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crowley-fe11 · 8 months

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Possible Lost RP (RoleChat)

You, Crowley, are connected to Probably Ed or Crowley Your partner selected the Roleplay server. Please keep the chat clean. Your partner has a starter. Type /starter or tap here to see it.

Your common tags are ineffable husbands

Crowley: /starter

Probably Ed or Crowley: ((Ineffable Husbands -- Most certainly Canon Divergence whenever s3 hits; 2 days to Christmas and Aziraphale has been gone since that day in the bookshop; narrative direction is Crowley as the Vessel for the second coming of Christ as a miraculous birth)) For once, snow was falling on London. A white Christmas. Just hideous. Crowley was furious at the whole world. He didn’t do anything. He walked around heavy, sometimes drunk and sometimes painfully sober. Shax’s new status meant that Crowley regained his flat, but he tended to haunt it now rather than live in it. His plants had grown too comfortable and their leaves turned brown and fell to the floor. The Bentley still got driven, but even she had become tired - the radio silent, the gears stiff. Crowley himself had managed to keep it together on the physical surface of his form, but look beyond the clothing and the coiffed hair and he was falling apart in much the same way. Nina called it depression, something Crowley had ignored. He didn’t go to Whickber Street much, but sometimes it was like he was being pulled in by his own temptations. He went to the coffee shop and felt a brief moment of happiness at how Nina and Maggie were now tentatively seeing one another, then angry at humanity for trying to spark joy in him. He doused it with bitter espresso and Nina chose to ignore how the blue sky outside her shop turned a dark grey and rumbled with thunder. On this particular day -- just two days from Christmas now, Crowley was in the park. He was sat on his usual bench under a miserable black sky, watching the ducks eat bread some tyrannical toddler was throwing into the pond. He’d have put a stop to that right away if he’d had the energy, but now he just watched the ducks clear every part of the loaf. There was a brief moment when he thought about tripping up the child’s mother, glued to the screen of her phone, so she fell into the pond but then the little brat started screaming that he was bored and the two sped along and left the ducks with the consequences. Snow was starting to gently fall and Crowley only found it more miserable. He glared at the ducks.

Crowley: As much as Aziraphale tried to push back on the next Great Plan, he couldn't find any way out of it. Though before he knew it- before he could prevent Crowley getting caught up in everything, it was too late. And now he had a job to do, just as Gabriel had before him. It'd been his first time back on earth since he'd left the shop, and he soon found himself bundled up and heading toward the bench he and Crowley usually shared. He could see the red headed demon there, and he drew in a deep breath as he drew closer. "Hello, Crowley," he greeted softly, knowing he'd have to tread lightly.

Probably Ed or Crowley: Crowley had been planning to get up and leave the park. There was a pub nearby he tended to haunt. Good spot for drinking -- no one paid him any attention, no one cared. The bartender happily plied him with drinks -- even let him have a whole bottle if he paid up in advance. Alcohol and sleep were the only ways to really numb the feelings that kept bubbling to the surface, and Crowley /hated/ the feelings. Aziraphale had abandoned him for some grand master plan up in Heaven... for some effort to be accepted and fit in or whatever tosh the angel had been thinking. He fucking /hated/ it. All of it. What was the point of any of it if Aziraphale wasn't here? But hearing the angel's voice so suddenly, feeling Aziraphale's presence when he hadn't been prepared... it was somehow even worse. Crowley scowled and immediately got to his feet. "Aziraphale." And then he turned to leave, trudging through the dusting of snow along the path that would lead back to the entrance. Back to the street. Toward the pub. Escape.

Crowley: Aziraphale shook his head and sighed to himself when Crowley started to storm off. "Please, you're going to want to hear this," the angel called after him as he followed, trying to keep up with the demon's longer stride. "I mean, at least a heads up. A warning, news, whatever you'd might want to call it." It was unavoidable, after all, and Crowley needed to know. Or they at least had to figure out a way out of this, if they could even move past things and work together on this. "Things are afoot again, and I don't know how to stop it."

Probably Ed or Crowley: "Planning the end of the world again?" Crowley replied, his tone icy. He paused for just a moment to glance over his shoulder. Mistake. Mistake. /Mistake/. Aziraphale was wearing the awful, boring gray and white suit that pegged him as an Archangel of Heaven. Practically a uniform. It made something in his chest clench to see the angel in such sterile colors. Fuck. "I'm not saving you this time, Aziraphale." He took a breath (technically unnecessary, but it made him feel better) and kept storming toward the entrance to St. James's Park. He used the angel's name, refusing to call Aziraphale by the old, sweet pet name /Angel/. That was a relic of a warmer, kinder time. Aziraphale no longer deserved that name.

Crowley: Aziraphale knew there was no good way to have this conversation, but the cold response was heart-wrenching in its own way. The angel furrowed his brows as he tried to shove those feelings aside and focus on what mattered. After all, it seemed Heaven just wanted a puppet to oversee their plans, not any actual change. "I've been trying to do that for you, Crowley. You've already been written into this one, and I couldn't stop it."

Probably Ed or Crowley: /You've already been written into this one./ Crowley did not like the sound of that. The Archangels were fucking nefarious. Could give any of the Dukes of Hell a run for their money with all their machinations. He kept walking, hurrying his pace. Whatever Aziraphale was going to try to tell him probably merited a healthy dram of whiskey. "Write me /out/ of it," the demon hissed as they reached the entrance to the park. Snow fell at a gentle pace on the high street. It muffled sound in a way that Crowley found imminently appealing, but just now he didn't like the idea of not being able to hear footsteps. Whatever Aziraphale was trying to tell him might involve the sudden appearance of /other/ angels and Crowley really did not want to have to deal with that. He stormed across the street, beelining directly to the favored pub.

Crowley: "You think I haven't already tried to?" Aziraphale replied as he fought to keep pace. As Crowley's choice of escape got more evident, his heart sank even further. Why did it need to be this way? It was probably best he be transparent, and before the other reached the pub. "Please, this is the Second Coming we're talking about." At least he hoped getting more specific would at least get the demon to listen. "You've been chosen."

Probably Ed or Crowley: The Second Coming. Of /course/ this was about the Second Coming. Aziraphale had stepped into Gabriel's shoes. Crowley had witnessed the argument of the Archangels. He knew what they were trying to plan. He was vaguely aware of how eager Hell was for the challenge in it all. They /all/ wanted the big fight envisioned in the Second Coming, the Rapture, and the ensuing Apocalypse. "I've been chosen for /what/ exactly?" The demon turned to give Aziraphale as withering and irritated a look as he could muster. He didn't want to deal with any of this and he hated that Aziraphale was a willing agent of the End. Crowley shook his head and tugged the door open to the pub. He knew the angel would follow. Crowley gestured at the bartender as he crossed the dimly lit room. /Whiskey. A double/, the gesture said. He had been here often enough that his regular order was well known by the few employees that maintained the bar. He stalked to his familiar corner booth and sagged down into one of the seats.

Crowley: Aziraphale decided to follow him into the pub sliding into the seat across from the other, determining just how to phrase this to the other. Crowley seemed to respond best to just putting it bluntly, but this also required somewhat of a delicate touch. He drew in a deep breath, fidgeting with his hands as he looked at the demon across from him. "Well, they've decided to go with the same sort of entrance as last time, miraculous birth and all," he explained briefly, his heart pounding. "And you've.. been chosen as the Vessel."

Probably Ed or Crowley: Crowley did his very best to /not/ look at the angel when Aziraphale slid into the seat across from him. He looked at the table, the wall, the bar. Where exactly was that drink? But when the angel started to speak, it was hard to not bring his attention back to the angel's face. Crowley stared at him. "The Vessel," he echoed, face blank. He looked up, grateful as the bartender came over with his drink. Thank fuck. The bartender looked to Aziraphale, as if trying to gauge whether he needed a drink too. Crowley sighed and leaned forward a little, elbow sliding onto the table. "Get him the same." Then Crowley took a long gulp of whiskey. His eyes closed as he hissed. "Chosen by /whom/ exactly? And... look... fucking /unchoose/ me. It's stupid. Why would a demon be the 'Vessel'?"

Crowley: Aziraphale was secretly grateful that Crowley ordered something for him as well. It'd been so long since he'd had anything to drink, and after these long months, he could certainly use one. He gave the server a small smile before turning his attention back to the demon across from him. "I've been overruled at every turn. There's no way I can stop this, and certainly not at this point," he explained, exasperation behind his eyes. "Something about redemption, I suppose?" He answered. He'd like to think if Crowley had accepted his offer, that maybe he would've avoided all this, but there was no guarantee that was the case.

Probably Ed or Crowley: The demon hunched forward and laughed. "Redemption?" He felt like he was slowly losing his mind. After months and months of alternating between drunkenness and sleep, Aziraphale was /here/ in front of him and trying to tell him something utterly absurd. "I'm not a Vessel." Crowley reached for his drink and took an exaggerated swig to emphasize his point. "Just tell them 'no', because I'm not bringing about the end of the world in any way and I'm /definitely/ not going to do /that/..." It was hard to even say the words. Carry a Christ-kid. A pregnancy. An Immaculate Conception. Whatever the right words might be... they echoed like absurdities in his head. They made him feel just a little crazy.

Crowley: "Crowley, it's going to happen," Aziraphale mentioned, desperation beginning to break through in his tone. The server had very fortunate timing, and his drink was soon brought over, and the angel look a good long drink from the low-ball glass before putting it down. "In all seriousness, this is going to happen, and I can't find a way around it. I have been ever since I stepped into this role, but I don't truly have a voice, and I don't have any power over what's to come."

Probably Ed or Crowley: Crowley glared at the angel from across the slim, aged wooden table. "I am /not/ doing it," he hissed. The demon punctuated his insistent statement with a long swig of whiskey. Then he gestured at the bartender for another. This first glass was /not/ going to be enough. "So you've worked out that you're a fucking pawn. A fucking figurehead. Grand. Good for you, Angel." The demon suddenly quieted. He hated how he had immediately slid back into the comfortable nickname for Aziraphale. He wasn't going to do that again. "I hope it was all worth it." Crowley hesitated only a moment before knocking back the rest of his drink. "I'm not going to be pregnant. Not going to carry a ticking time bomb for humanity. That's insane. Completely insane."

Crowley: Aziraphale sighed. He knew Crowley didn't have a choice, but he hadn't really expected much different. He certainly deserved the harsh words. "Not a minute goes by that I don't regret the choice I made," he admitted softly. "I genuinely thought I could make things better. That I could make heaven worthy of you, regardless of whether you're there or not. But I know I still hurt you in the process and left all we had together behind, and that's what I regret most of all." He met Crowley's gaze, or at least tried to with his dark glasses covering them. "I've missed you terribly."

Probably Ed or Crowley: "Good," the demon replied, leaning forward as his eyebrow arched. "/Good/." He wanted the angel to regret the choice. He wanted Aziraphale to go back in time and take it back. He wanted the angel to /see/ the desperation he had felt. Crowley knocked back the remainder of his glass of whiskey and hissed, eyes closing for a moment. "Make Heaven worthy of me? Fuck that. Fuck all of it. That's crazy... Aziraphale, you shouldn't have gone in the first place! That's insane. Completely." And he looked away. Crowley just couldn't look at the angel. It made him feel jittery and a little insane. He watched as the bartender returned with another drink and handed off a tenner to the man in gratitude. "You miss me. Great. Grand. Good for you. Now go put the Christ kid in some idiot's belly. Have fun. Annunciation day. Go for it."

Crowley: Aziraphale shook his head. "I know, it was a ridiculous idea. But I remember the angel you were, and you never deserved what was dealt to you," he told the other fighting the tears that started to blur the corners of his vision, though he fought them back as best he could. "But they've got a close eye on me right now, and I really can't waiver, as much as I agree that this can't be going forward at all, not with anyone." He took another drink from his glass, finding some semblance of comfort in it, even if current company didn't want to offer any. Not that he was deserving anyway. He should have listened, after all, but they'd still have a similar issue to worry about. "I need some sort of work around..."

Probably Ed or Crowley: That stopped Crowley up short. No. He /hadn't/ deserved the unceremonious Fall. He had only asked questions! Questions! And down he had tumbled for it. And now God was just /fine/ with him as the Vessel? That seemed ludicrous. He snorted and took a sip from his fresh glass. "A work around. Right. What exactly is the plan, Aziraphale? When is the Annunciation supposed to happen? I mean, when is the..." Oh, fuck. What was even the right terminology for this? "When is /fertilization/ meant to happen? We can walk the high street and find five willing idiots."

Crowley: "Finding someone else willing is all well and good, but that's not in the plan," Aziraphale told him. "It's supposed to happen any day. The message will to come to you in a dream- or vision, if you happen to be awake- and then it will be done." If anything, things were in motion already, and it seemed unavoidable so far. "There are already failsafes in place to ensure the pregnancy goes forward safely, so it's not as if we can easily just abort. I'm not sure what else can be done at this point."

Probably Ed or Crowley: Crowley hunched forward, elbows resting on the table. His jaw dropped as Aziraphale ran through a quick explanation of the process. "So. You're saying that I could actively try to /abort/ the fetus and God would just... prevent it. That's... this is torture. Aziraphale. That's fucked up. I'm not doing it." There was apparently no choice in the matter, so it didn't really matter that he was objecting... but Crowley was going to protest as loudly as he could anyway. He was done being an instrument of Her will.

Crowley: "Unless you can think of a way to get around it, but I'm out of ideas," Aziraphale mentioned. "Though I agree. It's extraordinarily fucked up. Makes you even wonder if She has a hand in things anymore," he mentioned. He knew a comment like that could land him in a great deal of trouble, but he knew the most he could accomplish would be to give Crowley a warning of what's to come, even if there wasn't anything they could do to stop it.

Probably Ed or Crowley: The demon's eyes widened, though Aziraphale couldn't see them. The angel had /actually/ said 'fuck'. It was a rare thing -- not completely out of the realm of possibility and it had certainly happened before, but it was beautiful in its rarity. He loved to hear the angel curse. This moment was a bit clouded though by the whole... situation. His fingers tapped against the glass of whiskey. "You're here to tell me I'm going to be up the duff with God's spawn and there's nothing you can do about it. A grand Annunciation in the style of Gabriel. Now what?"

Crowley: "The only thing I can think of is to try to ward it off somehow, but I'm not even certain that it would buy us much time. Or even work for that matter," Aziraphale mentioned with a shake of his head. "I figure if anything, you might have an idea of what we could try? If there's anything powerful that could keep you out of Heaven's reach." It could all be in vain, but he supposed if there was even a grain of hope to be had, maybe it was worth a shot.

Probably Ed or Crowley: Aziraphale looked genuinely dejected -- like he was actually trying to suggest solutions and as if he actually hadn't been the one to suggest a demon as the Vessel. That didn't really improve matters, but Crowley appreciated the notion that it at least hadn't been /Aziraphale/ nominating him for the job. "I could go back to Hell..." Crowley hissed and took another gulp of whiskey. He could stay in Hell for the rest of time to keep God from doing this to him -- She wouldn't want Her child born in Hell, after all -- but Crowley also didn't want to be there. And he couldn't just make it a year-long sojourn. God was as immortal as he was. She could wait him out. "I could go to... the Wolfhead Nebula or... some place in space. an't exactly have a kid born in the vacuum of space."

Crowley: Aziraphale mulled over the options Crowley gave him as he sipped from his glass. Hell was an undesirable, but realistically sound option. Though it would only delay the inevitable, and that in and of itself could put an early start to the War if Heaven sent anyone to extract him when they grew impatient. And space had a similar issue, where someone might put a stop to his escape. "Let's keep thinking," he mentioned. "Your flat is technically Hell's, right? Could that potentially be fortified any further?"

Probably Ed or Crowley: As annoyed and angry and hurt as he was, Crowley kind of appreciated that the angel was brainstorming solutions. Aziraphale had a focused, thinking expression on his face and Crowley could tell that he was actually trying. It made him feel at least a little better. Not a /lot/ better, but a little. And it put a temporary hold on all the hurt feelings swelling up in his chest. "It's not an embassy like the bookshop. Doesn't work that way. I could fight off angels with Hellfire, but that's kind of it. But you said the Annunciation would be in a dream. Not... it's not going to be some arsehole like Gabriel."

Crowley: Aziraphale shook his head. "No. If anything, this is the closest you'd get to an Annunciation in the classic form. If anything, it's sort of a Pre-Annunciation, in a way," he mentioned, though he could still see the pain in Crowley's expression. "I am sorry about all of this. I wouldn't wish it on anyone," he added as he looked across at the demon. "But I'm here for you, no matter what happens. However you want me to be there."

Probably Ed or Crowley: At least it wasn't Gabriel. There was that. Then again, Gabriel was off in the stars somewhere with Beelzebub, so of course it wasn't Gabriel. But it /was/ Aziraphale... and that was worse somehow. He looked down at his drink. "Yeah, well. Fine. There isn't really much you can do, is there?" And fuck. Crowley wasn't sure he even wanted to be here in the pub anymore. They shouldn't be talking about this where humans might overhear. He downed the remainder of his glass and then snapped his fingers. They were both suddenly in his flat. The space was darkened, curtains blocking out all the sunlight. Crowley immediately headed to the kitchen to seek out a bottle of something. It wasn't hard to find his way through the darkness. These last six months, the demon had embraced darkness.

Crowley: "I'm afraid not," Aziraphale mentioned just as the other miracled them to his flat. The change in venue wasn't a bad idea in the slightest, though it was clear how much the last several months had affected Crowley, even at the core. His plants, while they grew, they weren't as lavish as the demon always kept them, and the amount of darkness that overtook the room from the blackout curtains was on a whole other level from what he'd seen before. "I suppose... Oh, that's probably not the best of ideas either..."

Probably Ed or Crowley: "Not a lot of good options," the demon muttered, grabbing the bottle and a pair of glasses. He navigated his way around the kitchen island in the darkness, beelining to his kitchen table. The demon settled in his favorite throne chair, hunching forward to pour overly generous glasses of scotch. "Sit and drink or get out." He pushed one of the glasses toward a chair opposite him before taking a sip from his own. The burn just wasn't quite enough. It scratched an itch, yes, but it didn't save him from the angel's return, nor did it save him from the apparent future that lay in wait.

Crowley: Aziraphale listened and stepped toward the seat that was offered to him, sitting down across from the demon before picking up the glass. "The only solid defence I can think of is this: You can't exactly get pregnant if you already are," Aziraphale told him. "It's the idea that many humans take advantage of for contraception, is that they use hormonal supplements to trick their bodies into thinking they're already with child. I just don't know how else you do that with beings like us..."

Probably Ed or Crowley: Crowley snorted. "Can't get pregnant if I'm already pregnant. That isn't helpful at all." He wasn't exactly trying to get pregnant in the first place and God was omnipotent. If She willed it, he would be carrying Her spawn. Wasn't that how it worked? "You playing matchmaker now, Aziraphale? Trying to get me set up with some human in defiance of God?" Or, worse, with a demon. He suspected there were plenty willing down there in Hell. Demons were all about the visceral sins. They liked pleasure and pain and all the rest.

Crowley: "Well," Aziraphale started his heart pounding as he considered the whole idea. "If you would prefer me to play matchmaker, I can." How on earth was he supposed to bring it up? How he'd never forgotten just how perfect Crowley's lips felt against his own. How he would give anything to have that again, to make up for the way he pushed him away afterward. "Or, we even could," Aziraphale mentioned, wondering what Crowley's thoughts might be, though he was fully prepared for that to be thrown back in his face.

Probably Ed or Crowley: The demon's head snapped up in the darkness of the room, trying to study the angel's face. "We could /what/, exactly?" Crowley was pretty sure he knew what Aziraphale was trying to say, but he wanted the angel to say it directly. He wanted the opportunity to shoot Aziraphale down /directly/ and make it hurt. For six months, Crowley had harbored pain, anger, and resentment. There had been no way to assuage those feelings. They just clung to him day in and day out. Alcohol helped. Sleep helped. Being awake and sober was just... hard. Now was his chance to shout and rail against Aziraphale's choices. "Say it."

Crowley: "Look, I know I'm the last person you'd ever want to turn to, but just hear me out," Aziraphale told him. "Heaven doesn't have anyone physically doing the Annunciation. That means when it's attempted, it won't happen. And more importantly, if someone comes to check on you, make sure it's been done, they'd sense the child is of heavenly origin, so it would look like it worked." For once, it seemed like it could be the right call, at least to put the biggest stall to the Second Coming that he could. "I know I hurt you before, and this is such a twisted situation, but I want more than anything to make up for the decisions I've made, Crowley. You.. You mean the world to me, and I love you. Hence I wanted to make Heaven be a better place, and why I wanted you there with me. It was selfish of me to try to make that decision for you, but I want to make this right, if you'd be willing."

Probably Ed or Crowley: The demon huffed. He stared. He scowled. A shocking array of emotions crossed his features as he tried to process Aziraphale's suggestion. Despite his insistence, the angel wasn't saying it outright. Aziraphale was talking /around/ it rather than propositioning him directly. Crowley decided that was exactly what this was. The angel was propositioning him. Aziraphale's little plan was to put Heavenly spawn in his belly before God could do it. Trick the circle of Archangels who might actually check with a fetus of divine enough energy to pass as the Christ kid. It would be clever if it didn't just /hurt/. Crowley knocked back the remainder of his glass of whiskey, then hunched forward to grab the bottle again. "Your plan is to knock me up before God can." It wasn't a question.

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#ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands rp #rolechat #rolechat rp #mpreg #second coming #though is it really mpreg yet?#I would love to pick this back up if you're out there!!#lost rp

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