#almost bit crowley too

[edith-is-a-cat]

Posting about my yuu bc I need 2, it's not welcome to be only known by me anymore in honor of me carrying three bags everywhere Ede had it's backpack with them when they arrived to wonderland

It had a beat up water bottle, random snacks, about every charger you could think of, two pairs earbuds, a pair of bluetooth earbuds, a really nice pair of wired headphones, a laptop that has a messed up screen and was kinda bent, a 3d ds w/ a case and a few games btw 3d ds was modded to all hell and the stylus is only a little chewed, way too many pencils and pencil cases that no one would know what to do with it all, a few folders, a few notebooks (sketchbooks), a jevil plushie (bc i find it funny and representative), and least but certainly not least A WHOLE FREAKING BLANKET… what a first day of school Oh yeah did I say Ede literally got iseaked while leaving the house? walked into the road and got hit with a horse

[arashixyarts]

🪄

art for march’s prompt! - almost kiss :3

[egophiliac]

CROWLEY SSR THOUGHTS

there is zero basis for this, but I can't get this thought of my head

I don't know why I decided to draw it this way

[sunderwight]

Thinking about the weird camaraderie that exists between demons but not angels in GO.

Have we ever seen two angels who are actually friends? Or even friendly to one another? We have met angels with a capacity to be friendly in general, but I think the closest we've come to two angels actually getting along would be Gabriel making a point to laugh at Sandalphon's terrible "can't have a war without War" line in S1.

Most scenes between the angels actually seem to have an undercurrent of absolute hostility. Teeth-clenched teamwork. No wonder it took them so long to notice that Aziraphale wasn't on the same page as the rest of them! The rest of them are barely on the same page as one another, either! When Gabriel goes against the majority vote, no one bats an eye at demoting him and wiping his memory. Michael and Uriel immediately begin vying for his job. The only times we've seen angels team up is when they're working together to bully someone else, like when they're trying to intimidate Aziraphale in S1 or going to the aftermath of the bookshop raid in S2.

Saraqael's overall neutrality towards Muriel is the closest we get to two angels in Heaven getting along, and it's more a lack of hostility than any kind of friendliness. At least until Gabriel loses his memories and Muriel shows up to spy on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale decides to be kind to both of them.

Demons, on the other hand, actually seem to form alliances and even friendships among one another. Hastur and Ligur are awful, but Hastur seems genuinely distraught over Ligur's death, not just fearful of suffering the same fate. Shax and Furfur conspire together and even though the 1940's investigation into Crowley's fraternizing doesn't work out for Furfur, it's not due to any double-crossing on Shax's part. Unlike the angels, who stick almost exclusively to making threats until the Metatron decides to try dangling a carrot at the end of the season, demons actually offer rewards to other demons when trying to work together. Beelzebub offers Crowley a promotion if he can bring them Gabriel, Furfur offers to back Shax up politically if she goes for the Duke position opening, and Crowley successfully stalls Hastur in S1 by pretending everything was a test and he's going to be put in charge of a legion as a reward for passing. They're still not great at socializing, but they're significantly ahead of the angels.

Of course, it's a fact that demons are awful to one another (Eric's treatment is really bad, they throw that random demon into holy water just to test it, "it'd be a funny world if demons went around trusting one another", etc) but they still seem more capable of forming friendships than the angels do.

I think that's because Hell cramps and crowds everyone together to try and increase their suffering and hostility, whereas Heaven isolates angels to decrease the odds of questioning or rebellion. Hell's methods are unpleasant, but it still ends up putting demons together, and some of those demons inevitably forge alliances and make friendships. Because as Crowley and Beelzebub demonstrate, demons are still social creatures with the capacity for love and affection, even if it's strongly discouraged and buried under nine million layers of trauma and a cultural mandate against kindness.

Angels are the same, but isolation makes is harder to form connections than overcrowding. Muriel and Jimbriel are both so eager to make friends, but Muriel's spent the past millennia shut in an empty office, and Gabriel has been distanced from his peers both through his position and also through Heaven's culture of fear and surveillance. He only breaks away from it when he finds something that's stronger than "choosing sides" (stronger than the fear of being rejected by Heaven and Falling, in fact strong enough that Falling seems worth it if he gets to be with someone he loves). Both Muriel and Gabriel are only able to start forming connections when they're away from Heaven.

I just think it's interesting that demons, despite being supposedly devoid of love, have an advantage in forming relationships compared to angels. Angels are supposed to love, but have far fewer opportunities to actually do so. Demons aren't supposed to love, but they make connections anyway.

[winepresswrath]

I do gotta say tho, even tho I’m mad at aziraphale because he’s being a terrible boyfriend like what you said about the “I forgive you like” because WHAT. But also I really like the way the show really demonstrates the underlying cruelty of heaven and it’s angels. Really shows the hypocrisy of a group of beings who are supposed to do good, especially aziraphale who really buys into the heaven propaganda, who hurts people, particularly the person who means the most to him. Because like you said he fully just takes advantage of that devotion Crowley has for him. Insane, this shwo makes me INSANE

I missed this anon and yeah! The angels were one of my favourite parts of the season, and I think the strongest element aside from Neil Gaiman deciding he's just a simple man who wants to put his otp in situations. They are deeply awful and I kind of love them. They are the exact kind of moralizing hypocrites who are callous and cruel precisely because they think being on team good means everything they do is justified and it's actually impossible for them to be in the wrong (they're angels! is it even possible for them to do the wrong thing?).

but!! To me, they also seem like they're basically kids? Obviously they're not literally children, but there is this very consistent reoccurring joke about how childish/sheltered/immature they are. Muriel is the most obvious example, but the archangels come off like bratty twelve year olds to her sweet little kid.

Gabriel is basically teenager in love flipping off his family as he runs away with his backstreet guy. Uriel is constantly picking at Michael, Michael is playing at being in charge like it's a game, and it's ridiculously easy for both Aziraphale and Crowely to trick them obvious half assed lies. They're not allowed to ask questions! The Metatron treats them like badly behaved kids out past their curfew. At any point an old man with a beard may pop up to scold them and send them home, and they're all scared of doing something wrong by his standards and getting in trouble with this guy who is pointedly not God but who lines up exactly with the pop-culture idea of god the father, and who offers Aziraphale, among other things, a respite from the hard work of figuring out what the right thing to do is for himself. It's fine! You don't have to question the belief system you were born into or make a painful break with everything you've ever known! Aziraphale has had six thousand years on earth to grow up, but the other angels have been sitting in a sterile white box playing "i'm not touching you" games with each other and filing paperwork.

And I think that's extra interesting because this season also really emphasizes:

Heaven has Institutional Problems

Aziraphale isn't the only angel who's unhappy in heaven. Gabriel and Muriel were both completely miserable. They just didn't understand that they were unhappy because they'd never experienced anything else.

Angels who aren't Aziraphale can change and grow! There's very explicitly Gabriel being changed by love and Muriel growing up a bit on earth, and from a more fan-theory angle there's also Jimbriel, who I think is probably basically Gabriel minus the war and six thousand years of playing referee for Michael and Uriel while unleashing an assortment of plague and calamities on earth because that's God's will! Buck up champ.

We also get Gabriel and Beezelebub talking about how their underlings basically live for Armageddon, "if you can call that living." This is so bleak. They've all been on a six thousand year time out just dreaming of the day they get to beat the shit out of each other until they feel better, but it won't work because eternity is just more of the box.

Anyway I think it's going in a distinctly eden adjacent direction. Aziraphale is going to tempt those angels with knowledge and the capacity for change. I have veered so far from your ask anon i'm sorry you're right heaven really went all out on sucking this season & while Crowley and Aziraphale are both fucking it up Crowley refrains from being spectacularly cruel to Aziraphale about it and Aziraphale should learn to return the favour. I forgive you!! I forGIVE you. I forgive YOU. "you can be an angel again" is actually a worse thing to say than "you're a demon. i don't even like you." when he finally picks crowley over heaven i'm going to lose my mind.

[schrodingers-intelligence]

I wonder if Neil Gaiman just randomly sits down in a chair in his living room, grabs a snack and just scrolls through the shambles that is the tumblr Good Omens community

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[harunayuuka2060]

Ace: Prefect? Where's your mom?

MC: She's looking for a job outside.

Ace: Bruh— Didn't Crowley give her an allowance?

MC: She hates it. Trust me, she almost yeeted Crowley out the window of his office.

Ace: ...

Ace: How about you? Why are you dressed up?

MC: I just got a job. It has a decent pay.

Ace: Huh? You're going to work too?

MC: Yes. I'll give the money I earn to my Mom.

Ace: But she's not your responsibility?

MC: She's good at handling money. Besides, we're going to save up so we can buy a small land in Briar Valley.

Ace: ...Yo, why in Briar Valley of all places?

MC: She likes nature. And she's fond of animals and fairies.

The interviewer: ...

MC's mom: *looking serious*

The interviewer: You don't have any records—

MC's mom: That's because I'm not from here. But I tell you this, back in my country, I've done all jobs. From cooking to cleaning and pulling out babies from their mothers' wombs.

The interviewer: ...

The interviewer: That sounds reassuring, alright. You're hired.

Malleus: Congratulations on getting the job, Mother.

MC's mom: Thank you, thank you.

Malleus: However, isn’t the salary a bit too low?

MC's mom: It is? Wait. I'm going back in.

Jamil: *pulls her back* No, Ma'am. The pay is reasonable. Malleus here is a prince so he doesn't know.

Malleus: Huh?

Grim: Are you not going to eat, hench-human?

MC: I'm going to wait for my Mom.

Grim: Mryah, she might've already eaten outside while looking for work.

MC: She'll still be hungry when she arrives here.

Grim: Your Mom's a glutton.

MC: *looks sternly at him*

Grim: ...

Grim: Okay, I'm sorry.

[linkemon]

Romantic tropes headcanons

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Other headcanons from Twisted Wonderland can be found here.

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This part contains: Idia Shroud, Floyd Leech and Kalim Al-Asim.

Idia Shroud • Grumpy x Sunshine

• When Idia met you for the first time, he felt like he had gone blind. It was a bit like staring straight into the sun. You reminded him of Kalim Al-Asim — everywhere at once, loud and not very respectful of personal space. You were like an MC in an anime. Always looking at things positively, facing every obstacle life threw at you with a smile.

• Idia wasn’t too keen on becoming friends with you. Besides, he usually only saw you through his tablet screen. If you were the sun, then he was the moon. He felt comfortable hiding away in his dorm with his gears and passions. It wasn’t until you saved him from his Overblot that he started seeing your persistence and openness in a different light. With a hint of envy, he realized how easily you made friends.

• Shroud never expected you to get everyone to play one of his favourite games. Sitting on the couch with a controller in his hand, he looked at you in disbelief. At that moment, watching your smile, he thought that maybe you weren’t blinding at all — just warm. And maybe… he wanted to bask in your light.

• He didn’t even notice how, after that incident, he slowly started following your lead. The real shock came when, one day, in his room, you admitted that you were utterly exhausted. Carrying the weight of all the responsibilities the headmaster had dumped on you had finally taken its toll. Without thinking much, Idia called Crowley a noob and a final boss in one. Then, he told you to do the same. This strange little ranting session somehow helped you let off some steam. Right after, Idia declared that you had the rest of the day off. If anyone came knocking, including the headmaster, Ortho would take care of it. Idia pulled out a stash of snacks and put on one of his favourite comfort series. Wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito, you could finally let your guard down — at least for a little while.

Floyd Leech • Kabedon

• Floyd doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. He’s always right next to you, squeezing his little shrimp to the brink of suffocation. By now, you’ve gotten used to it.

• So it was no surprise when one day, in the school library, he pulled a kabedon on you. The two of you stood behind one of the towering bookshelves. The librarian had seen him come in and was now searching for him with frantic determination, loudly calling out his name. He had quite a few overdue books piled up — not that he had actually read them...

• Floyd pressed a finger to your lips, effectively silencing the protests that were about to escape them. His broad shoulders blocked out your view and his hand landed right next to your head. The only thing you could see was his face, adorned with a mischievous grin. You wanted to wipe it off him but your heart was beating faster and faster. The distance between you kept shrinking and you could feel his quickened breath.

• Dust particles danced in the air. There was a faint scent of the sea lingering in your nostrils. Leech looked like he was having the time of his life as the librarian passed by, missing you both by mere inches. The moment she was gone, he stepped away as if nothing had happened, vanishing before you could even collect yourself. Almost unconsciously, you touched your warm cheeks, trying to shake yourself out of the trance.

Kalim Al-Asim • One Bed

• Kalim is a true altruist. The moment he heard about the renovations in your dorm, he immediately offered for you to stay in Scarabia. In his mind, this was the perfect excuse for a sleepover and a pajama party! He threw himself into preparations with boundless excitement.

• The evening was spent in an incredibly pleasant atmosphere. There were mountains of delicious food prepared by Jamil, which made Grim especially happy. You all played games late into the night, sprawled across soft cushions, while upbeat dance music played from the speakers — completely mismatched with your cozy outfits. Kalim eagerly encouraged everyone to dance, his infectious smile making it impossible to refuse.

• But when the excitement finally died down and you lay in the guest room assigned to you, you found that you couldn't sleep. Whether it was due to all the excitement or simply missing the familiar creaks of your own bed, you weren’t sure. But after tossing and turning for what felt like the hundredth time, counting sheep with no success, you decided to do something about it.

• Hesitantly, you knocked on Kalim’s door. The sight of his sleepy face immediately filled you with guilt. Just as you were about to apologize, he sleepily tugged your hand, listening to you patiently before suggesting that you stay with him instead. Had it not been so late, maybe you both would’ve cared that there was only one bed — but at that moment, it was the last thing on your minds.

• Kalim started telling you fairy tales from the Scalding Sands, weaving in softly hummed lullabies between his words. He fell asleep before you did, struggling to keep his eyes open but you were grateful nonetheless. He held your hand the entire night.

• When you woke up in the morning, your face was nestled against his chest and his arm was gently wrapped around your waist. You carefully slipped out of the room before Jamil could see you. You figured neither of you needed his scolding — and knowing him, there was no doubt it would have been inevitable…

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[happy74827]

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley."

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

[grntaire]

fun musical bit about this scene!:

the piece that the car is playing (the "classical music that stays classical music") is a tone poem, saint-saëns' danse macabre. it's a super famous piece that you've probably heard before and is associated with all things spooky. but it's not just spooky bc it sounds spooky: it's spooky bc it tells a story! a tone poem is a piece of music evokes a poem, short story, landscape, etc. in short, it's a piece of music that's describing or outlining something.

danse macabre tells the story of death, who every year on the stroke of midnight on halloween plays his fiddle to raise the dead. the dead dance for him until the following dawn, where they return to their graves until the next year. (musically it does a lot of cool things to reflect this: there's 12 notes at the beginning representing the 12 strokes of midnight, and the frequent use of a specific musical interval called the tritone. in the medieval period the tritone was also called diabolus in musica, literally meaning "the devil in music" bc of how dissonant it sounded to listeners at the time. it also quotes the dies irae chant as well!)

so the fact that it's what the car chose to play is SUPER cute. bc it's classical (technically it's from the romantic period, but w/e), like aziraphale wants, but it's also reminiscent of crowley. bc i bet the car knows just how much aziraphale loves crowley, too. it's a really subtle nudge that the car knows both of them and it's like the car is finding a musical middle for them both, almost.

it's also a subtly brilliant choice bc in the flashback prior, aziraphale said that crowley asked to meet aziraphale in the graveyard at midnight. just like death met the dead on halloween.

[halemerry]

Alright, not to be too predictable, but I wanna talk about space and color as it's used in the intro to episode 1 for a minute. And you know, show some gorgeous space shots.

So we open in the dark. There's distant lights and the occasional flare from them moving through space but for the most part we get the angel that would eventually become Crowley alone in enough darkness that he himself isn't even giving off particularly significant amounts of light.

But then, enter Aziraphale. He arrives in a big ball of blue light shining above him that really emphasizes Crowley's red hair. They get tied to the colors we most often see them attached to, especially in promotional materials.

From here the entire scene gets slightly brighter, even once Aziraphale's light dims down. They're both lit up once they're together, even it the middle of literal nothingness.

They start the universe next, using Crowley's hand crank, which gives off a magic that's a combination of their two colors - purple.

A very similar color to this shows up in heaven as a signal flare for their accidentally too powerful half a miracle. It's a color tied to a miracle so big it could've revived someone 25 times and also a miracle that got the engine of the universe running.

And then. Creation starts. Our first image is a very Heavenly aesthetic. It's a blueish light cutting through the clouds much like Az just cut through the dark.

And what explodes from that is the thing that set me down this little rabbit hole in the first place: it's purple scattered through with red and blue lights.

As the initial burst fades, the blue and the red separate, the color fading except for this tiny blue dot and this growing red zone on the right.

The blue then fades, leaving us with an extremely Crowley coded palette here and a very orangeish red. There's shades of gray, a little bit of light, but not nearly as much color. As the sequence moves the darkness grows but does start slowly filling with small points of light.

We then end up with shades of gray both light and dark. There's balance here, even if it's not particularly colorful.

And then all at once a pinkish red bursts forth with these intense clawing tendrils. At the core of it, from the heart of it, is a bright blue ball of light.

It fades into a blue heart surrounded by darkness with whisps of white resembling a certain someone's hair. Or, as some friends pointed out two people embracing.

As the nebula settles a few other colors set in but the primary scheme is still red and blue. An almost violent plume of red emerges on the left side of the image.

And from this moment on most shots of the two of them back them with their respective color schemes.

They chat and Aziraphale gets anxious. He looks for a distraction and is immediately drawn to the space where the colors mix.

And as we fade out the other colors in the picture fade. We get the most balanced blue and red get. And on the far corners fairly clear dark and light.

So what does this mean? The purple speaks to them being very powerful together. And, the rest is arguably just representative of the plot. We have Aziraphale as a beacon in the dark - a signal flare we know Crowley has throughout history been aware of and drawn to. We have them brightening each other. We have Az's color breaking out of heaven to mix with Crowley's to create something new and wonderful and powerful. Aziraphale's color fades, leaving Crowley alone. We then get a burst of a red closer to Crowley's current hair, with Aziraphale's blue in the core of it that eventually becomes a blue heart surrounded by darkness. That too fades, replaced by the pillars becoming their familiar hand shape and slightly more colors seeping in. As they talk together and move closer together their own colors settle back in and come to balance.

[bettystonewell]

COUPLE THINGS #2

Putting You x Dean Winchester through everyday relationship stuff - 1300 words

Pasta and Pie

It’s a rare moment when you can cook in the bunker. Not just make a meal, but cook from scratch with fresh ingredients.

Pasta that’s not al dente after two minutes in the microwave, but the kind you put in a pot and boil. Nevermind it’s dried and came from the local grocer in a plastic bag that’s flakey and easy to break. It’s the thought that counts.

Yes, you bought tinned tomatoes, but you picked up some mushrooms and onions to counteract them. A carrot and a small zucchini like your mom used to do for you because both Winchesters need their vegetables. They’re growing boys, after all.

You’re just chopping them up fine for Dean and countering again with bacon and minced meat.

“Meat man,” you whisper with a grin and place everything at the ready. You reach under the steel bench for a bowl, and up top for a pan, swinging overhead. Stretch behind for a knife just as Dean walks in.

His hair still holds the water from his shower. It’s dishevelled, but it’s clean, free of monster guts.

“Feeling better?” you say as he pads over to you.

His bare feet slap on the polished floor as he crosses the room. “Yeah,” he croaks.

His fingers grip your waist. They shuck up your shirt. Palms smooth over your skin. Toned chest covered in a simple Henley reminds you Dean Winchester has a heart. He nips your jugular from behind, tugs on your chin, then demands a kiss from your lips.

“What’s all this?” he says, when he pulls away just enough. Breath touches your nose, fresh with mint, cooling and sweet.

“I told you I was making pasta. Got you pie for dessert, too.” You wink.

“Oh, yeah?” His hand finds your ass. Taps you once. Smooths the skin beneath through the soft material you wear.

There’s no need for stiff jeans or FBI gear when there’s snow days afoot. Rest and recuperation is key. Your bra was gone the second you got back from the store.

“What if I want you?” he husks. Plants another nibble below your ear and behind it.

Hmm. You hum. “Later.” You grab an onion and slide the wooden chopping board close.

The blade glides through the skin. Chops it clean in half, and you’re soon peeling and dicing the layers into sizable chunks.

“You’re going to cut yourself,” he says, and your knife hits the wood with a dull thud.

“What?”

“Just. Here.” Dean’s calloused grip pries the handle from you. Snatches the second half of the onion, and starts chopping with you in the middle. “See. You gotta keep your fingers clear of the blade.”

“I know that.” You just find it awkward.

Any retort you had gone as you watch on, however. His hands, steady. His glide smooth.

“Who taught you how to do that?” you say. You can’t recall him ever using onions on his Dean Deluxe’s. Just store-made patties, lettuce, cheese, tomato. Sauce.

His “Lisa” is quiet. His eyes stay on his hands as yours did, making quicker work of the vegetable than you ever could.

Your tongue pokes at your cheeks. Swipes up and down. He never mentions them, though you know of her and Ben, of course.

They were still together when you met the guys. At least Dean was trying to make it work. You saw what Crowley did to her. Saw the pain Dean felt when he let them go, and you picked up the pieces of a broken heart years later.

You’re left unsure whether to ask about her or pass the moment off and forget it, so “She teach you how to grate, too?”

You’re an idiot.

His, “Yeah,” crackles on the end.

He looks your way. Eyes almost amber in the bunker’s light. “Same principle.” His voice deepens, and he flashes a grin. “Keep the fingertips away from the sharp bits. Makes ‘em small enough to hide in the sauce.” He cocks a brow.

“A wise woman.”

“She is.” He nods. “Never fed me bacon, though.”

“No,” you exaggerate. Full of fake disgust. Eyes widen, but you can’t help the smile. “Guess she wanted to keep you ‘round.”

You shouldn’t have said that.

“And you don’t?” He squeezes your waist with his arm.

“It’s bacon!” You nudge him back with your hips. “If you don’t want it—”

“No, no, no. I never said that.” He drops the knife. His hand grips your wrist and turns you to him next. Pauses. “I want you ‘round.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens. Even more so when he repeats you. Your hand finds its way to his chest.

It rises, heartbeat holds firm below the warmth of his body. He leans down and gives you another quick kiss. “Lisa was in my past. You know that.”

Your nod can only be curt when his lips still sway next to yours. Eyes flutter close, breath breathes him in. His soap, toothpaste, his musk. You’d never be able to describe it to anyone, but it’s the best in the world.

“I know,” you say. “I’m thankful for that.”

He pulls back. Blinks, pouts. His throat bobs up and down. The question of why plays on his features, his brow, the dimple just above his chin.

“She shaped you into who you are.” You pat his tummy. Palm thuds on the one too many burgers. The whiskey gut on a beer diet.

The worth he never gives himself credit for flashes through his eyes, and just as he’s about to pull you in and kiss you again, you open your mouth, and swoop in for the kill. “Now I’m gonna ruin it with more bacon.”

He takes another pause. His brows furrow, then relax when his grin pulls them down to squeeze his cheeks as his fingers squeeze you.

He leans in and ghosts your lips. “And I’m gonna ruin,” he starts and you’re breathless now, heart rate climbing fast, “that pie. Where is it?”

You snort first. He follows. You give him a soft smack, landing on his pectoral. It shakes beneath your palm as an airy snicker hisses past his front teeth. The bellow that comes next flitters through your ears and into your own chest, now warm like the bridge of your nose above it.

“Is it here?” Fingers creep under the elastic wrapped around your waist, spreading more warmth into your skin. You’d melt if it weren’t for his arm holding you upright. Your grip on the steel bench helps as his breath comes back to take yours again, interrupting the shake of your head.

You could stay like this for minutes, hours. Mould into and let him carry you away to the stars or some other poetic place bordering on lust and lecher, only he pulls back.

And though you’re partial to continuing, wanton for a different kind of feast, when he says, “Later?” gaze flicking down to the shelf below your chin? You nod with your eyes. Bite grazes your lower lip. Tongue rubs the upper. It’s a promise.

“So.” He clears his throat, lets you go. Puts his hands on his hips and scans the counter. “Want me to grate the other stuff?”

“If you like.” Your thumbs rub your fingertips, nails scratch your palm, willing your brain to think. For the high to subside enough to continue the task at hand.

“I’ll start on the mince,” you say and move to the fridge to get it. Heart in a flutter, making itself known in your chest. Mind aware of the tall hunter, grappling with the lid of the slicer that won’t quite fit. It’s a son-of-a-bitch, or so he says. Heaven help the carrot and zucchini that are about to face his wrath.

Heaven help you later.

This one is thanks to a poll I remember answering a couple of months ago, regarding which SPN character could chop an onion correctly. I voted for Rowena on account of the potion making she no doubt has experience in, but I can also imagine Dean commandeering a knife in this instance. Hoping to do a Sammy one next - Beth ❤️

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[nawoken]

How will the NRC boys react when you overblot with the thought of suicide?

I don't know what I am doing, but since many people are interested in Suicide Overblot Reader, I will write something for it then. Reference to this post.

I think I will try to do all of them. I hope...

Some might be OOC because I don't understand their character enough (Trey and Cater in this post case), sorry if it bothers you guys.

I don't really write it as platonic or romantic, try to keep it neutral so u can read it the way u want?

Warning: Mention of suicide, self-destructive, angst, depression(?), blood,... a bit heavy thought I guess?

Part: Hearslabyul

Riddle

- When he reaches Ramshackle and sees you got overblot, he is uneasy but still remains calm and serious.

- Slightly think that part of this is his fault for not paying more attention to you. He knows that you had to bear a lot of things lately, with school, with Crowley's unreasonable quest,...

- But, he has to stay strong, he has to, he is a Housewarden after all.

- But... when Riddle sees you hurt yourself, he is stunned and terrified. This can't be happening, it shouldn't be.

- He hears your faint cries about your insecurities, your fear of being a burden... and your wish to disappear.

- It makes him heartache, wonder what has made you reach this point. Then, it hit him, every word he told you when you guys first knew each other, before his overblot, and before he changed.

- This must be his fault, he has hurt you... Riddle lost in his guilt, almost overblot right then and there.

- Even Trey can't pull him back to reality, but Ace's punch can.

- "Stop blaming yourself, don't you want to save them?" It actually helps Riddle calm down.

- Riddle braced himself, he had to make it right, so he could apologize to you properly.

- You got him traumatized. And you guys will also have a longgg conversation after things end.

Trey:

- He is... a lil bit shocked and worried about the situation. But, years of taking care of Riddle and his maturity helped him stay calm.

- Even when you hurt yourself, he only flinches a bit before pulling out his pen and trying to destroy the black inky thorns without hurting you.

- Things get worse when Riddle loses his sanity and starts to blame himself while Ace and Deuce lose their cool, kicking and fighting to get to you.

- Try to calm Riddle down. But it's no use.

- Ace's outbursts still make him surprised every time, but at least things have become more stable. They can focus on the main problem now.

- He keeps calm through it all, but when everything comes to an end, he falls to the ground and exhales all his built-up tension.

- He will check in on you a lot more. Reaching out to you, asking about your day, and baking you a lot of treats. Become your figure mother at some point...

Cater:

- Like Trey, being the third-year he is, Cater is much more mature and reliable than he seems.

- Use his unique magic, protect the first year, and even try to lighten the mood while keeping an eye on you.

- He is not too worried since everyone is gathering here, to save you! So nothing can be wrong... right?

- The moment he sees the blood splatter out of your body, he inhales sharply and trembles slightly before turning around to block the view of the freshmen.

- But he fails to keep them from the view, so now Ace and Deuce go berserk. At least Epel and Jack are still sober enough to hold the duo back.

- Multitasking. Become much more serious.

- After it all, he won't force you to tell him things but he will talk with you a lot more, maybe about this funny meme or some new trend on Magicam. Do his best to make you laugh.

Ace:

- He first tries to joke about this when he sees you in your oveblot form. Act cool and funny but can't hide his care for you. Swear that he will knock you on your head a few times for making them worry sick.

- The moment you hurt yourself? Ace and Deuce tried to rush toward you but got held back by other first-years.

- Scold you, told you to stop hurting yourself, and even threatened that if you don't stop he will fight you...

- Also scold you for being stupid. Yes, you're magicless but you also have survived many life-or-death situations that even a pro mage can't. You're not useless!!!

- Asked Riddle to do something just to find out his dorm leader is having a mental breakdown right there.

- He punches Riddle (the second time), how can he act like that when you're still in danger?!

- Ace also cooled down after that, he left the job of returning you to normal to the Dorm leader while helping others destroy those blot-made thorns to prevent them from hurting you.

- You guys will have to talk a lot after this, and you know can't avoid it, Prefect.

Deuce:

- His face turned pale the moment he saw you. Out of anyone, he doesn't think you're the one who got overblot.

- Especially when you stab yourself, he lost his mind. The moment he runs out to you, Epel holds him back. Others told him to calm down, to make a plan.

- But, Deuce can't even hear a word, all he can hear is your whimpering and the scene of the thorns lunging through your flesh keeps playing in his mind.

- Like Riddle, he also blames himself. The difference is that he blames himself for not looking out for you more. You guys have been friends since the beginning and you are always taking care of them, but they have failed to do so for you.

- The guilty feeling building up inside him made him mad, he wanted to punch, to fight, to take his anger out on something.

- After the "fight" between Riddle and Ace went off, Deuce finally calmed down.

- After things end, the moment you back to normal, he will immediately run to you and hold you close, afraid that if he lets go, you will disappear.

- Says sorry to you again and again...

- Become a bit paranoid and protective after your suicide attempt.

____________

5.C: This took me forever to finish, now I have 17 more to finish. Gotta say, Riddle is the easiest person to write about.

[insanity-laughs-under-pressure]

Can we talk about how lost Crowley was this season. He drops hints at certain points like when he talks about things being "pointless", but whenever he would be having a down moment it would be brushed away almost instantly by something else.

For instance when he gestures to Aziraphale to stop and have a glass of wine, Crowley is literally talking to him about how he's scared that Gabriel could have smited him during the night, but then that fear is brushed aside by Aziraphale and Crowley's usual banter taking over the conversation.

Then there's the bit where Crowley claims that "It's always too late", like that feels like a really pointed thing to say and no ones really done a deep dive into what he actually means by that (half of it is foreshadowing because Crowley opened up to Aziraphale too late, as heaven had already gotten there first).

Then there's Crowley's absolute panic during the ball, where him and Aziraphale literally just end up dancing around the problem.

Not to mention he's living in his car and the only person who knows is Shax. (yes I would have liked to see more of Crowley living in his car but that's just me).

The most painful moment out of all of this, for me, would be the scene after the argument in ep1. Crowley leaves, shoots lightening everywhere because he's clearly trying to bottle up far too many emotions, and then when he gets back to his car he just looks so defeated. He knows the dance him and Aziraphale do, he knows it will all probably be fine in the end but he just looks so tired of everything:

But then once again this small moment is broken by Beezelbub summoning him back to hell.

So basically, to conclude, God needs to give Crowley a break and someone needs to give Crowley a hug.