#camels hate crowley

[feralbutfluffy]

Crowley and Poetry

In the book, Crowley says G.K. Chesterton is "the only poet in the twentieth century to even come close to the Truth."

Take a look at these Chesterton quotes:

“The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”

“The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.”

“To have a right to do a thing is not at all the same as to be right in doing it.”

“Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.”

“A man does not know what he is saying until he knows what he is not saying.”

[felicitywilds]

Captivated

Aziraphale/Crowley | Gen | 2k

Tags: Historical | The Arrangement | Canon-typical Banter

SUMMARY

Crowley pretends to be Aziraphale's prisoner as part of their Arrangement. ~~~ Written for the @do-it-with-style-events Good Omens Reverse Minibang, based on art by Penemue.

EXCERPT

Out of all of God's wondrous and magnificent creatures– for which Crowley has an unending fondness as a steadfast defender of the innocent– he hates horses the most. Thankfully, he's not riding a horse. He's not technically riding a camel either, but rather slung over the back of it on his stomach, so he still doesn't know if it's harder on the buttocks than a horse is, but he figures he's enough of a passenger for it to count. Towards his right to complain about it, that is.

Read more on AO3

[internerdionality]

This is a really brilliant line, and I want to talk about it for a second.

The humor, of course, comes from the fact that we think of being kind of something that’s very easy and noncontroversial, and so the idea that everyone would get upset about such a message is funny. And then Crowley’s reaction, implying that he fully understands why everyone went apeshit over it, sells and underscores that surface humor.

But, of course, Jesus’ actual message was incredibly radical, as is the actual meaning of “be kind to each other” if you follow it to its logical conclusion (as Crowley obviously did). Stop judging other people—either no one is morally impure, or we all are. Observing rituals and adhering to the law alone don’t make you a good person. Be kind to each other. Stop oppressing and excluding people, including chiefly prostitutes (also implying those who society today considers sexually immoral, aka queer and trans people) and people with disabilities and chronic illnesses. Be kind to each other. Feed the beggar. Clothe the poor. Please for the widow. It’s easier for to thread a needle with a rope/camel than get a rich man into heaven. Be kind to each other.

And, of course, this exact misunderstanding is what the vast majority of Christian history and Christians today are still making about their own damn religion. “Be kind” isn’t an easy commandment. It is and always has been a radical, paradigm changing concept. That’s why we argue about it so much.

“That which is hateful to you, do not do unto others. That is the whole of the Torah; the rest is commentary. Now go and study!” (Hillel)

Happy Easter

[ineffably-good]

Prompt: Road Trip

Summary: A look at three memorable road trips over the course of an ineffable friendship. 

This is part of the Good Omens 30th Celebration Prompts - see all of the ones I’ve completed on AO3. 

---

 Outside Thebes, 1500 BC

“Imagine running into you here!” a familiar voice said on the docks of the Red Sea port of Elim, in the kingdom of Egypt.

Crawly blinked and turned around, trying hard to not show how much he wanted to kneel down and kiss the ground, now that he was back on dry land. “Angel!” he said. “Did you just arrive as well?”

“I did, yes,” the angel said, peering at him closely. “You look a little green around the gills, Crowley. Are you all right?”

“Oh,” the demon demurred, trying to be cool. “You know. Boats and me. I’m fine!” He waved a hand and swallowed hard, fighting a wave of nausea.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, not fooled in the least. “You’re headed for Thebes, I expect? Come travel with my group, I’ve got a camel just for you.”

“A camel!” Crawly said. “I’d prefer to walk, thank you.”

“You’re not walking from here to Thebes. It’s the desert. You’ll die.”

“Well then I’ll fly!” Crawly said. “I can wait until nightfall.”

Aziraphale made a face filled with compassion underlain by the tiniest bit of mockery.  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Crawly!” he purred. “I didn’t realize you were afraid of camels! How foolish of me to offer. They are rather terrifying beasts, I can see how a demon would be put off by one. I’ll just see if I can arrange for you to be taken over on an ass, would that be better?”

Crawly rolled his eyes, his bluff having been successfully called. Now that the angel was calling him a coward, there was no way he was going to do anything other than ride a freaking camel from here to Thebes. How wonderful, to have a reputation to uphold.  

This led directly to Crawly finding himself bumping and rolling along in a group of about twenty on the world’s surliest camel, several hours later, holding desperately to the saddle horn in front of him and trying to find a rhythm which did not exist in the animal’s god-forsaken gait. The camel was draped in blankets and tassels and other accessories which served to make it look cute and harmless, but its appearance didn’t match its demeanor. Every chance it got, it turned around and bared its teeth at Crawly.

Aziraphale pulled up next to him for long stretches of the journey, offering him encouragement and advice. “Try scratching behind her ears!” he shouted helpfully. “Isn’t the scenery gorgeous?”

Gorgeous, the demon thought sulkily. He tried Aziraphale’s suggestion and the camel turned around and tried to bite him, causing him to wobble and almost lose his seat.

The camel (whose name was Sheba, of all things) came to a dead stop and looked him straight in the eye, assessing something. Crawly frowned and concentrated, pulling up every ounce of demonic threat he possessed and allowing his eyes to darken to a gleaming red for a moment, trying to convey the sense of immediate damnation if the bloody ungulate didn’t pull itself into line and immediately. The tar pits of hell were perfectly sized to fit a few dozen camels, after all.

The camel was completely unimpressed. Hell didn’t frighten Family Camilidae – they had met demons before, and there wasn’t a demon among the bunch who didn’t find camels to be meaner, trickier, and less trustworthy than their fellow inhabitants of the lower circles. Most demons would rather be roasted on a spit than end up in a one on one fight with a dromedary, no matter what they were armed with.

Crawly kept up the glower and bravado for as long as he could, and was somewhat relieved when the camel broke the stare-off first. Had he won? He sat up straighter in his seat, pleased with his courage – he had won! He was fairly sure he had won.

The camel had other ideas, breaking free of the path and heading directly for the cliffside overlooking the Red Sea.

“’ziraphale!” Crawly shouted, losing all pretense of being in control of this situation as he held on for dear life. “She’s trying to murder me!”

The camel lopped along at a surprising rate of speed until he got directly to the edge, then skidded to a halt, performing a complicated bucking maneuver that sent Crawly flying over her neck and down over the edge of the ravine.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured, calling the caravan to a stop. “Stupid Sheba! This can’t be good!”

He dismounted and ran to the edge, to look for his friend.

Crawly was alive, about 20 feet down on a small rocky ledge that had broken his long fall to the river. He waved a hand weakly at Aziraphale but seemed unable to get up from where he was lying, a cloud of dust around him obscuring the extent of his injuries.

Somehow his words drifted up to reach the angel’s ears.

“Bloody…. Camels…” he moaned. “Can’t anyone invent something better than this?”

Aziraphale put a slight miracle on the entire party, distracting them from what he was doing as he flew down to rescue his companion and “help” him back up to the party. Time to put Crawly safely on a litter and with a substantial pain block for the rest of the journey. Once they reached Thebes, he would nurse the demon back to health.

 --

 Scotland, 1730

Usually, Crowley and Aziraphale traded duties whenever they could when their assignments involved long stretches of travel, but sometimes they had no choice but to carry out their duties themselves, even if they were headed to the same area. And so they found themselves both called to Scotland, on their way to Edinburgh to attempt to influence a series of rich nobles to their own aims.

Nothing said they couldn’t travel together, though. They took a rough carriage as far as Northumberland, then were handed a set of fine horses by one of George II’s lords to take them the rest of the way.

“Can’t we just – you know, snap our fingers and show up in a nice, cozy inn in Edinburgh?” Crowley groused.

Aziraphale looked somewhat sympathetic. He wasn’t a huge fan of horses either, although he had to admit that having some extra padding in his hips and thighs probably made the ride a lot more comfortable for him that it was for a bony specimen like Crowley. And he did enjoy the fresh air and the scenery.

“I don’t think we should,” he said. “It would definitely draw the attention of Above if I miracled myself directly to the castle three days early. And then they might notice that I had a demon with me for the whole trip, which could lead to questions, and that could be –”

“Oh, all right, all right,” Crowley snapped, knowing he was right. He did, though, magic himself up a little extra blanket on top of the saddle of the large thoroughbred he was riding. She was a mare, high spirited and a lovely dark brown. Although better than a camel, she obviously objected to having a snake demon on her back, which she showed by rolling her eyes and wickering madly whenever he came to mount her, and then either plodding along at a maddeningly slow speed or racing at breakneck pace ahead. She outright refused to do anything Crowley asked, but would, infuriatingly, obey like a sweet little lamb whenever Aziraphale intervened.

The angel’s horse, a large chestnut stallion in fine form and fettle, gave him no trouble whatsoever. And don’t think that Crowley didn’t notice how smug Aziraphale appeared about this sometimes. He did. He filed each and every instance of smug away in his mental files, to be revenged upon later.

After the horse threw Crowley for the third time in three days, Aziraphale had to admit defeat. They were simply going to have to find another form of transportation before Crowley ended up discorporated on the side of the road.

“Shaddup, angel,” the demon said irritably as he picked himself up out of the ditch and brushed off a combination of sodden vegetation and rot. “It’s not my fault, she just hates me.”

The gorgeous mare stomped her front hooves and made a noise of agreement. She did hate him. She really did.

“I can see that,” Aziraphale said. “Shame, really, you and horses. They’re such a convenient way to get around.”

“For you, maybe.”

The angel moved to take the reins of both horses and began leading them down the road. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked.

Crowley grunted his assent and began limping down the road, putting Aziraphale’s broad form between him and the animals. If he was lucky, they could make it to the next town without one of the horses kicking him in the head.

“Great,” he sighed. “Walking. Even slower and more tortuous.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said pleasantly. “I rather enjoy walking. And it’s only an hour or two until the next village. Then we will try to get you onto an ox cart or something.”

Crowley was not to be mollified. He leaned back and spread his arms. “Could someone please invent something to make these fucking horses obsolete?” he shouted at the sky. “I’d consider it a personal favor!”

--

London, 2020

Crowley pulled up in front of the bookshop and, feeling insouciant, laid on the horn instead of going up to the front door to knock. He hopped out of the car and leaned against the bonnet, grinning broadly as Aziraphale appeared at the front door, frowning and looking affronted.

“Is this what we’ve come to now?” the angel asked acerbically. “The romance is over? No more coming in to greet me, you just blurt the horn until I come outside?”

Crowley grinned and produced a bag of pastries from behind his back.

“Oh, well then,” Aziraphale said with a wriggle. “You’re forgiven!”

“Let’s go for a drive, angel,” the demon said enticingly.

Aziraphale pretended indifference. “I’m not so sure about that, my dear,” he said. “You’re such a frightening driver, after all. Why would I want to do that?”

“There are three excellent reasons for you to go on a drive with me, angel,” Crowley said, his mood too perky for the angel’s game playing to make a dent. “Number one, it’s a beautiful day! Number two, I know an excellent place in the country where we can get crepes, about two hours north of here. Right where that really interesting inn used to be in the 18th century – do you remember? Rosie and Violet and their roadside inn?”

Aziraphale cast back and encountered the memory of good stew, cool ale, and excellent company. “I do!” he said. “That was such a lovely place.”

“Well now there’s a restaurant there, same plot of land. Shame you’ve never been there,” the demon said coyly. “Should really do something about that.”

“And reason three?” the angel said, smiling.

Crowley walked over and swung open the passenger door. “Reason three? It’s a CAR. An automated vehicle with horsepower but no horses!” He gestured at the leather interior. “Sitting comfortably, a tin of biscuits in your lap, while we zoom through the countryside with nothing to bite you or buck you or try to kill you with its bad temper?”

“Crowley, my dear, you know I’ve seen your car approximately a thousand times before,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Shaddup, I’m having a moment here!” Crowley said. “Can’t we just stop and appreciate now and then that we are not on the back of animal when we have to get from point A to point B?”

Aziraphale laughed. “I see you woke up in quite a mood today.”

Crowley grinned at him. “Get in the car, angel. Places to go, people to see.”

Aziraphale stopped feigning resistance and allowed himself to be ushered into the car, his door to be carefully shut behind him, and his seat belt to be adjusted for maximum comfort. The demon was in rare high spirits, and he wasn’t truly going to resist participating in them for anything in the world.

[castielmacleod]

thoughts on Gavin?

Hi! Honestly I prefer to ignore his existence, sorry 😭 I DON’T hate the character I think he’s genuinely fun but it juuuust. Bugs me that Ben Edlund wrote Crowley as a gay character and then another writer came along and inserted this Crowley son plotline out of nowhere.... I don’t know if it was to try and assert Crowley as not gay because like, it’s not like a gay man living in medieval Europe having to straight marry and have children is even remotely unheard of but the thought of Crowley having to have gone through that kind of trauma makes me so sad. So for that reason Gavin's existence kinda inherently makes me uncomfortable unfortunately, and when he’s mentioned in a fic or something I close the fic

If I WAS to consider Gavin existing (which again I don’t like to think about, but for the sake of your ask) then I don’t think Crowley EVER would have hung around to see him grow up or anything like he apparently did.... uhhhh more on that under the cut so people don't have to scroll as much if they don't care lol

But yeah I genuinely think it would have just freaked him right out to have a biological kid and if he took one look at baby Gavin it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back for his horrible pretend marriage. He would ironically probably pull the exact same crap his father pulled on Rowena, and that Rowena pulled on him and make the extremely shitty decision to just. Leave. He’d go anywhere as long as it was as far away from that experience as possible. I like to think that he would have left money and stuff to his spouse before checking out but maybe not because he was a shitty person. But running from your problems runs in the family with the MacLeods I think. But again that's all pretty awful and sad to think about on all sides so I'd just prefer if Crowley had been a confirmed bachelor his whole mortal life

I also headcanon Crowley as trans, which I’ve seen some people bring up as an explanation for how Gavin came to be, but I’m not a trans man myself (like I honestly don’t think I’m cis but I mean I’m like. amab) so I don’t want to overstep and have detailed headcanons like that for an experience I’m not part of, since I don’t think it’s my place. If any of my trans guy followers want to chime in on the subject you’re more than welcome

Anyway tl;dr I like Gavin on his own but not as Crowley’s son so I tend to just ignore him. People who write about Crowley and Dean parenting him are extremely strong though and are doing gods work

[twstarchives]

Admissions Videos Transcripts

● Video Source: https://admission.twisted-wonderland.aniplex.co.jp/ ● Info: These videos first debuted at an in-person event at Shibuya Modi on October 26 & 27, 2019. Attendees were given an invitation card (pictured above) and instructed to place it in a “fire” where it then turned into a card with a keyhole. There were designated screens at this event which appeared blank to onlookers, but if you looked through the keyhole you received, you’d be able to see one of the dorm leaders greeting you. These videos were later posted on the official website on December 25.

                            ・━━━━✥◈✥━━━��・

Dire Crowley

Please allow me to welcome you today to the mage-training school Night Raven College’s admissions experience. I am the school’s headmaster, Dire Crowley. Now, please place that invitation you are holding in the light.

Are you ready? If we were to host a proper entrance ceremony, the Mirror of Darkness would select a house that perfectly matches your soul. Today, however, is a special admissions experience. I will use my own magic to choose a house for you. What do you think? Aren’t I so kind?

Another thing, today is a bit different than an official sorting. Regardless of which house is chosen for you, please refrain from any complaining. Now then, shall we begin?

One! Two! Three!

A keyhole linked to the gates of Night Raven College has opened in what used to be your invitation. Now, don’t be afraid; take your invitation back from the light. Hold the keyhole up to your eye, and take a peek out from the gates. I wonder where your soul will be guided?

Riddle Rosehearts

My name is Riddle Rosehearts. I’m the dorm leader ruling over Heartslabyul, which was founded on the severity of the Queen of Hearts.

You’re the new student, right? Since you’ve joined Heartslabyul, you must obey the laws of the Queen of Hearts just like a card soldier. First, start with a greeting.

…No. Speak more nicely. Don’t twiddle your fingers. Turn out your toes, and curtsy! Open your mouth a little wider!

Very good. You have quite a bit of promise in you. I don’t hate a person who obeys the rules. I have faith you’ll be able to follow all 810 of them.

But I’ll tell you just in case: If you ever were to break one of this dormitory’s rules…You already know, don’t you? It’ll be off with your head. Keep that in mind.

Leona Kingscholar

Are you the new kid?

What? Why do you look so excited?

Yes, well, forgive me for not leaping for joy. I’m Leona Kingscholar. The dorm leader for the house founded in the indomitable spirit of the King of Beasts, Savanaclaw.

We have only one rule here that’s absolute: Obey the king. It’s something even an herbivore like you can understand. Not too much to ask for, right?

You want to know what happens if you break that rule? Oh, no, no, let’s not think about things you don’t need to. I’m worried something horrible will end up happening to our adorable little newbie.

There are tons of aggressive guys in Savanaclaw. You wouldn’t want to end up in a mess with a pack of starving hyenas, right? If you want to see the light of another day, then curl up your tail and do as you’re told.

Azul Ashengrotto

Hello. So you are the new student everyone’s been talking about. Allow me to welcome you to Octavinelle, the dorm founded on the mercy of the Sea Witch. I work as its dorm leader, Azul Ashengrotto.

You are really quite fortunate. Since you’ve become an Octavinelle student, you’ll be able to spend your school life without feeling miserable, lonely, or depressed!

Why, you ask? Should anything happen that leaves you troubled, I will immediately come to help you. Yes, feel free to ask me anything at all. As dorm leader, I’m only doing what’s expected of me. I am very kind to those who are obedient.

Of course… In the case that you are unable to pay the price… I would have to punish you. Even I would feel just anguished if I had to hear your screams. You wouldn’t do anything to make me sad… would you?

Kalim Al-Asim

Oh?! You’re here! I’m Kalim Al-Asim. I’m the dorm leader for Scarabia, the house founded in the tactical spirit of the Sorcerer of the Sand. I’ve been looking for you. ‘Cause we can’t start the party unless everyone’s here! Today’s gonna be so much fun!

Golden camels, purple peacocks, white Persian monkeys, birds that warble on key… and a whole bunch of other animals; we’ve brought them all! And also… a magic carpet!

We’ll watch the parade, dance and sing, and have the best time of our lives!! Ah! Obviously, I had a whole lot of food prepared too! Hehe! The food our vice leader makes is the absolute best!!

He… told me this isn’t the time to throw a party, but… don’t you think there should be a little fun in this, too?

RIGHT?! I have a really good feeling about you coming to our dorm! Don’t even worry. I am an excellent judge of character.

Vil Schoenheit

This is Pomefiore, the house founded on the heavy efforts of the Beautiful Queen. We’re the fairest dormitory at this academy, as well as the most historic. I’m the dorm leader, Vil Schoenheit.

Are you our new student? Hm~? Well, let’s see if you’re eligible for now. Although… This still isn’t good enough.

Do you think the color of that top really suits you? Do your hair and skin always look perfect? Do you keep your nails nicely polished? Right now, I spare no effort in making sure that I am the most beautiful. And since you’re a student here too, I’ll make sure you’re working to improve your own self too.

Pomefiore has no room for lazy people. If you ever try to go behind my back and even think about slacking off… You’ll experience something that will make your breath still and your blood congeal. Please prepare yourself.

Idia Shroud

I-I’m Idia… Idia Shroud. Hello. I-I’m the dorm leader for Ignihyde, the house founded on the… diligence of the… Lord of the Dead. Anyway…

Y-You… really are unlucky to have been chosen for this dorm. Welcome to a school life that’s nothing but dark and gloomy; I’m so sorry for you—it really almost feels like you’ve been abandoned by the Goddess of Fate herself, doesn’t it!

T-There’s a lot more accurate information you can find on the internet about our dorm than you can get from me; you can look those things up yourself.

…Do you still need something? You really are persistent. Unlike you new students, I have a really busy schedule.

If you want to get by peacefully at this academy, my advice to you would be to not stand out. The people here are nothing but bad news.

Malleus Draconia

Oh? There’s quite a clamor over here.

What? An admission experience? Hm? That’s what all these festivities are? In that case, are you one of the humans who were invited here?

Then I will introduce myself to you, who is nothing more than a baby. I am Malleus Draconia. The dorm leader of the house founded in the noble spirit of the Fairy of Thorns, Diasomnia. And… I’m a descendant of the king who reigns over all dwellers of the night.

What’s the matter? Don’t look so frightened. I’m not going to suddenly transform into a giant dragon and set you on fire or anything like that.

I would love to chat with you a little while longer, but I’m afraid we must part for today. I was not invited to this glittering assemblage, you see.

I apologize for barging in uninvited. …Tell that to the Headmaster for me.

Of course I’m not angry. I’m not.

There are several Disney easter eggs hidden in these dialogues. I reworded some of them to better match the version spoken in the English versions of the movies.

Below I gathered the official lines for both the EN and JP dubs if you’d like to compare! If text from the JP dub was different enough to point out, I translated that in italics.

Alice in Wonderland

The Queen of Hearts’ dialogue:

Look up, speak nicely, and don’t twiddle your fingers! Turn out your toes. Curtsy. Open your mouth a little wider. もっと丁寧に。指を動かしてはいけないよ！左足を引いて、敬礼！口をもっとおおーきく開いて、こういうんだよ。

The Lion King

Scar’s dialogues:

Yes, well, forgive me for not leaping for joy. そうか、飛び上がって喜べなくて悪いな。

You wouldn’t want to end up in another mess like you did with the hyenas. この間のようにハイエナに襲われたら大変だろう。

You shall never see the light of another day. お前は二度と、太陽を拝めぬ身の上。

The Little Mermaid

All of these cameos are lyrics from the song Poor Unfortunate Souls.

The miserable, lonely, and depressed 憂鬱で悩める人

On the whole, I’ve been a saint いい子には優しい (I’m kind to good children)

Someone couldn’t pay the price and I’m afraid I had to rake ‘em cross the coals お代もらえず、お仕置きするの　泣きながら

Aladdin

All of the animals Kalim lists were also mentioned in the song Prince Ali.

Additionally, one of Kalim’s lines reflects a dialogue spoken by the Sultan:

I am an excellent judge of character. わしの人を見る目は確かじゃ。

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

The Evil Queen’s dialogue:

Her breath will still, her blood congeal. 息は止まって、血も凍りつく。

Hercules

“A little dark, a little gloomy” is how Hades sardonically describes the Underworld.

“The Goddess of Fate” refers to the Fates, who are called the “Three Goddesses of Fate” in JP

Sleeping Beauty

“Glittering assemblage” is the phrase Maleficent uses to describe Aurora’s birthday celebration

[goodbyevanny]

All-girls school AU - Good Omens

This has since been edited and posted on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201279/chapters/53005516

Writer’s note: I saw a prompt on tumblr, and it hit me hard, as I went to an all-girls Catholic school and definitely did my fair share of pining over my best friend. That said, I’m in the US, in a very specific part of the country. So, in the spirit of write-what-you-know, the setting is in the US, and you will see some culture references to that. Keep in mind this is an AU. I’m gonna be honest, this is just a lotta self-indulgent wish fulfillment and me working through my own issues. 

Summary: Aziraphale Angeles has been given a fresh start as a first year at prestigious all-girls Catholic school and she LOVES it. She’s finally being left alone by her family, and she loves her uniform, her books, her tea. It’s practically Eden, if only she didn’t keep running into that trouble maker, Antonia J. Crowley! She does NOT need more questions in her life...

Rating: T

Warnings: Main characters both experiencing and participating in fat-shaming, homophobia, transphobia. Aziraphale grew up in a very religious, patriarchal household and her views will be in line with that upbringing. Of course, this will change through the story.

It will begin, as always, in a garden. 

It was the second week of starting at Immaculate Conception Preparatory Academy for Girls, and Aziraphale Angeles was feeling guilty over just how much she was enjoying herself. When the term had started, she hadn’t been sure as to what to expect, but so far it was surprisingly, well, wonderful. 

Honestly, she had expected to hate it. The Holy Angels University system was designed to so that you could spend the entirety of your academic career within it (and, in her family’s case, even after) and Aziraphale had known from when she was very young that she very likely would. This meant that entering high school was a simple matter of walking up a very steep hill to a new building. Her classmates, for the most part, had transitioned with her, and of course, she had a plethora of cousins in the school as well. 

She had anticipated her troubles from her younger years following her here, schoolyard taunts of ‘Azira-FAIL’ echoing in her head. She’d imagined being ostracized at lunch, eating at the end of a table filled with family and their friends, only being acknowledged with the occasional snide comment about how much she was eating, and how she never pulled her nose out of a book.

But it hadn’t been like that at all. First, the homeroom that she had been placed in had none of her former classmates. As the most prestigious private school system in the city, students from all over matriculated in, not just from the associated middle school, so there had been plenty of new students to meet. 

Even better, her homeroom was presided over by the head of the Theology department, which was always one of Aziraphale’s best subjects, and she’d managed to impress her professor on the first day. She was given the job of class rep, and that alone had given her the kind of protection and independence she had craved in her younger years. At first student council meeting she received a gold brooch with the emblem of the institution: a heart, encircled by thorns, pierced by a sword, wreathed in flames. Aziraphale had wrinkled her nose when she had received it, annoyed by the heavy-handed, overlapping imagery. But even so, she felt proud to have it shining on her lapel.

It wasn’t just the pin she loved; it was the whole uniform. Her brand new oxfords, with the sharp contrast of white and black. The silky feel of her stark-white summer knee-highs. Her brand-new summer uniform, the polyester skirt in inverse eternity tartan, with the matching camel colored tartan blazer and tartan bowknot tie. Her starched linen blouse, neatly tucked in, and large white grosgrain bow, perched like wings atop her perfect high ponytail. Or at least, her attempt at a perfect high ponytail. She found her white-blonde curls rather refused even the most maximum hold gel or hair spray, so by the end of the day a cloud of frizz had usually fought free it’s constraints and made it look like a haze or halo around her head.

Also, the high school was much more lax in how it corralled its students. Meaning, classes were held at regular times, and it was up to you to make sure you attended the correct number of sessions every week; other than that, your day was free for independent study. Aziraphale was allowed now to spend almost the entire day in the library, or quiet classrooms with cozy window nooks for reading. Combining that with her class rep pin, which allowed her to roam the halls as needed, she felt free for the first time in her life. It was heady.

Her evenings had been a delight of tea and cocoa, cozy blankets and books now that she had moved into the dorm. Her cousins, including Michael, were all in the upper years’ dorms, so after dinner, she didn’t even have to see them. Even better, some combination of her family’s connections and her pristine academic record had scored her a single room. The only thing that had disturbed her peace so far had been the loud music coming from the room across the narrow hall, but even that had been turned down when she knocked on the door, without her needing to say anything. 

She knew this peace wouldn’t last, but for now it was all just so lovely. 

Now, two weeks in, she was comfortable in her routine. She was in the back of Professor Tracy’s classroom, where there were several very cozy chairs set on a plush, if worn out, rug. It was one of her favorite classrooms so far; set on the third floor, overlooking the school’s science building and extensive gardens. The chairs were set in front of an unlit fireplace that probably didn’t even work, but Aziraphale thought gave a nice ambiance to the room. She was quite comfortable and, having already completed attending the necessary lectures earlier in the week, full intended to camp out in this chair for the rest of the day. She’d plugged in the electric kettle on the nearby shelf, intending to enjoy a cup of tea with the pastry she smuggled out of breakfast in her handkerchief. She’d gone so far as to carefully unlace her oxfords and set them next to her book bag, so she could tuck her feet under her. 

Today she intended to begin on the recommended reading list that had been provided to her by the terrifying University library assistant, and had checked out the few books that were carried by the high school library. While she waited for the kettle to be ready, she stared out the diamond paned windows that arched upwards, almost reaching the painted tin ceiling. It was probably the best view on Mt. Eden, overlooking the gardens and orchards that tumbled down the hillside to the valley below. Her eyes traced the highway that hugged one side of the mountain, only to then twist away into the distance, raised high above the valley so it nestled between the treetops. 

She could see dark clouds gathering at the edge of the valley and could see it would likely rain soon. Thankfully, she didn’t have any classes in the science building, which was detached, but she had her white ruffled umbrella with her anyway, and thought she might come up with some sort of excuse to go outside with it later today. Her brother had brought it back from Japan, and she was somewhat eager to use it, even if it wasn’t really needed. 

She had just settled in with her cup of tea, taken a bite of the pastry, and read the first page of Dangerous Angels when Professor Tracy interrupted. 

She hadn’t meant to interrupt her, of course. Instead, the teacher who was rapidly becoming her favorite professor was standing at the windows, peering down in the direction of the orchards. “Oh no, Mr. Shadwell. Ohhh leave them alone, they’re fine,” she fretted, and then finally reached for the hand crank to open the window. As soon as it was swung open, she was calling out and waving, “Mr. Shadwell! Mr. Shadwell! Oh dear, I don’t think he hears me, Sargeant Shadwell!” 

Well. There would be no reading through that nonsense. Aziraphale untucked her feet and wandered in her socks up to the window to look out, and immediately saw the problem. From this vantage point, it was easy to see the three girls lounging in the stone circle at the center of the orchard, and farther up the hill, the insufferable Mr. Shadwell making his rounds. The last call out of Professor Tracy had stopped him in his tracks, leading him to stand, eyes roving over the building, looking for the offending distraction.

There was no time to waste. Aziraphale was already back in her chair, shoving her feet in her oxfords and desperately tying up her laces. She’d have to leave her things, but she thought it would probably be fine, as Professor Tracy and her had an understanding...and with one last glance around she snatched up her umbrella and ran out of the room.

Aziraphale hated running. It conjured up the worst memories for her, sweating and taunted in gym class, in white T-shirt that she felt was unnecessarily tight. Michael, her cousin, laughing and pinching the flesh above where Aziraphale’s gym shorts dug in. “Like a fat frosted cupcake,” she teased, and the nickname had stuck. It had taken over a year before Aziraphale could eat cupcakes again without furious tears. (Not that she had give up eating them, though, because Michael was not taking that away from her too. She just sniffled through through deliciousness.)

Yet now she was running, out of the classroom, down the hall, and then down the stairs in leaps and bounds, taking multiple steps at a time and then out outside, down more steps towards the STEM building and the accompanying gardens. She had recognized one of the students from the orchard immediately: Eve. They’d met in homeroom, and had started a tentative friendship; at any rate, Eve saved her a seat every morning and afternoon in their homeroom.

The heat outside was oppressive, even with the increasingly storm dark skies, the humidity instantly freeing wisps of curls to halo her face and fluffing her ponytail. She tried to smooth the white blond strands back against her scalp even as she ducked behind an impressive hedge of oleander, trying to see where Shadwell had gotten off to. She sighted him as she passed the long line of towering cypress that ran alongside the driveway behind the school. He was shouting up at Professor Tracy, who was hanging partly out the window, obviously hoping to catch the notice of the students and get them to move. Shadwell sounded apoplectic, and was alternating between stomping his feet and vigorously pointing at the professor. 

Aziraphale hurried down the limestone steps at the edge of the slope  to the gravel path that wound through the orchard, gritting her teeth as sweat began to drip between her breasts and collect along the underwire of her bra. Eve and her were going to have words this afternoon in homeroom over this. 

When she reached the stone circle, she pulled up short. Eve was there, sure enough, with her long dark curls, lustrous eyes and smooth complexion. Aziraphale couldn’t help but return a helpless smile as Eve caught sight of her and grinned, a mischievous brow arching. But Aziraphale’s smile faltered when she caught sight of Eve’s company. First, there was a boy. Wearing their uniform, no less. Where had he even gotten it? From Eve? What was she thinking? If she was caught with a boy they would be expelled! And her other friend—Aziraphale gave this second girl a look over. “Good Lord,” she muttered. 

This second girl lounged on the stone benches that made up the ring of circle, long legs spread out before her and weight resting on one arm, while the other was propped up on her bent knee. The only thing that kept it from being ridiculously lewd was that she wasn’t wearing the skirt uniform. Instead, she was wearing the pants, in the black eternity tartan, completely out of season. Her matching blazer had been tossed over the bench behind her. Her shirt was untucked and her tie was tied like a boy’s. She was wearing what were likely very fashionable sunglasses, because they looked ridiculous, and her head tipped back so she could look down her nose at Aziraphale as if Aziraphale was the one that deserved to be judged. 

But, worst of all, was her hair. Loose, like Eve’s, but carefully styled, deep red curls. It hung down her back in ringlets, and Aziraphale was sure it wasn’t naturally that color. No one had the right to that much color, on their head, it was obscene, and wasn’t that just the perfect word for this creature, she thought, as her eyes traced down the long line of her tanned throat, and did she have her top button undone?!?

Eve was laughing, “Oh c’mon, if you glare any harder you’ll burn a hole through them,” and the floozy had the gall to smirk. 

Aziraphale whirled around to face Eve, hands on her hips, white umbrella still clutched tightly in one hand.”Have you lost your mind? What are you doing down here? With a boy?” She threw out an arm and waved it up and down to encompass the offending human, who was adjusting a pointless, but lovely, matching headband on their shaved head. 

“Oh? Jealous already, Azira?” Aziraphale stepped back and her mouth fell open, eyes wide. “What? No! Of course not! I just,” and hold on, she wasn’t the one out of line here. “BOY!” she snapped back, and gestured again.

“It’s just Adam. We’ve been friends forever, Adam having such a time of it at the boys’ school, and Tony had the brilliant idea to have them hang out with us here! I mean, if they’re in uniform, and we just hung out in open classes, how would anyone even tell? We’re firsties, professors don’t even know us yet, really.”

There was so much wrong with that statement, and too little time to unpack it all. “You and I are going to have a talk after study hours tonight. But for now, Shadwell is doing his rounds, and you all need to get out of here,” she could already hear him cursing and sliding on the gravel at the top of the orchard. Tony–of course this delinquent would have a boy’s name–looked up the hill in what might have been a vaguely interested way, but it was impossible to really tell with those stupid sunglasses. Then, quick as a snake, she was up on her feet and was exiting the circle, one hand saluting with a “Ciao.” She slipped between the trees and was gone.

Aziraphale rolled her eyes, and went to follow, but Shadwell had spotted them. “I see you, ladies, stay where you are! Miss Angeles!” He was in sight of them now, but was slowed by the steep incline of the gravel path.

“Oh!” Aziraphale spun in a circle, fretting, and finally her hands flew to the gold brooch on her lapel. “Oh no,” she lamented, but there was nothing for it. She unfastened it and then quickly reattached it to Eve’s blazer. “Stay behind us,” she told the boy, who wisely hadn’t said anything so far, thank the good Lord, because she didn’t think she’d be able to handle any more idiocy at this point. 

They barely had time to turn around when Shadwell burst through the bushes. “Out of class!” he spat. “Smoking? Drinking?”

“Please, Sergeant Shadwell, I think you know me a good deal better than that.” Aziraphale stepped forward.

She hated “cheating” in this way, but she also knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle to get Shadwell to get him to let this go. Angelic influence was required. And by that she meant, of course, the Angeles family name. Her family was the founding benefactors and remained the principal donors to the Holy Angels University System, and being a part of that family did come with certain privileges. 

“Eve is a class rep with me, and um, Professor Tracy saw this student out of bounds so we were sent to escort them back in. For demerits,” she said, nervously tucking wisps of her white-blond hair behind ears. 

Eve stepped forward and tapped the badge for good measure, trying to distract Shadwell from getting too close of a look at her companion. Although, Aziraphale really wished she hadn’t, because now Shadwell would ask—

“Hrmph. And where’s yours, then?”

“Oh, um,” Aziraphale glanced around like she actually expected to see it lying on one of the stone benches, and not like it was pinned to Eve’s blazer plain as day. “It’s around somewhere. Forget my own head next,” she smiled and laughed weakly, and prayed Shadwell didn’t ask why the girl behind them had no hair and broad shoulders. She was delivered, though, by a single distant bell toll. “Oh goodness, we need to get going to our next class! Thank you Sergeant, you’ll take over patrolling where we left off, yes? Ok!” And then she was steering Eve and the boy forcefully up the gravel path, through the break in the crumbling stone wall around the orchard. 

It wasn’t until they were back in the building, the halls crowded with students passing to their next class that her heart started to calm. They followed her as she ducked down a side stairwell that lead to the basement level and pushed open the door on the distant side of Mt. Eden. The slope would lead to the bridge that connected their crest of Mt. Eden to the lower hill of the boys’ school.

She turned to Eve. “Ok, you have to get him back to his own school, he can absolutely not be here when classes let out for the day. All in all, this was a terrible idea and I can’t believe you let that girl tempt you into it!”

“Azira, thank you so much for coming to get us—

“No, best not thank me, I do feel a bit like I’m sending you into the lions’ den. I have no idea how you’re going to get him back on campus.”

Eve reached up to her lapel and began to unfasten the pin, but Aziraphale reached out and covered her hand with her own to stop her. “Oh, no need to worry about that. You can get it back to me another time. You better hold on to it for now, it might be useful.”

Eve smiled, dazzling Aziraphale, and then threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly, and for a moment Aziraphale was breathless. Just as quick, Eve stepped back and took up Adam’s hand, and pushed open the door. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

“You better!” Called out Aziraphale, but then the door swung shut with a heavy snap, and she wasn’t sure if she’d been heard. It seemed too final, and she wanted to see that Eve and that stupid boy were safe, so she headed up the stairs. She cleared the basement level, then passed the stairwell entrances that lead to the classrooms, one, two, three, floors. Here, a red velvet rope cordoned off the stairway, like an exclusive club awaited beyond, and she awkwardly stepped over it. When the staircase turned again for the next level, the marble steps gave way to concrete. There was a heavy wood door here, with a keyhole, but she knew it would open for her. She pushed it and now she was in an empty storage space, under the sloped roof of her school. It smelled musty and old, it was hot, but stronger than that was the sharp scent of cedar, which paneled the entire space; roof, floors, walls. All intended to drive away the moths, she supposed, because stacked floor to ceiling, across the wide space, were hundreds of books, stacked to the roof, forming twisting corridors interspersed with antique furniture. Aziraphale left this all ignored and picked her way through until she came to a ladder against the wall. 

Looping her umbrella over her wrist, she climbed up until it reached the hatch in the roof, and leveraged it open with a strong, firm shoulder against it. It gave, flinging open and she made her way through. She was in the bell tower; the large brass ladies hanging heavy overhead, a choir of sixteen, ropes strung across the soaring space overhead. Aziraphale spread them only a quick glance of appreciation before she opened the side door and headed out onto the roof.

The roof was bordered by a white limestone crenelation, and Aziraphale stood behind one of the merlons to stay hidden from anyone looking up from the ground. She could see Eve and the boy approaching the bridge. Mercifully, it was cooler up here. She wasn’t sure if that was because the roof was able to better pick up the increasing breeze, or if it was because the storm was finally closing in. She reached up to smooth down her frizz against her head to no avail. She could feel it instantly curling back up.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see Eve’s friend sauntering up to her. Because of course she would know how to get up here. 

“I’m sorry, what,” snipped Aziraphale, already at her wit’s end with this girl. 

“I said, ‘that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Oh, yes, rather,” snarked Aziraphale, because honestly, whose fault was that?

“Well it just seems a bit of an overreaction if you ask me, handing out demerits for sitting outside.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Yes, sitting outside and demerits, that’s definitely what you had Eve risk,” she said with another head to toe look over of Tony that shouted, you are as slow as you are pretty. A second lookover did not improve her opinion. Tony was still in the eternity tartan pants and black blazer, with her tie tied like a boy’s. As the breeze whipped her deep red curls back, away from her graceful neck, Aziraphale noticed a pair of long black snake earrings, twisting in loops down from her ears and definitely longer than allowed by the student handbook. 

“Seems a bit ridiculous, though. Big stone seating area in the middle of an orchard, why put a bunch of benches up if you don’t want anyone to sit there? Why give us all this free time and the ability to sort our own schedules if they don’t trust us to go inside to class when we’re supposed to?

 “Oh for g—for goodness sake, you brought a boy on campus! Eve could have been expelled!”

Tony smirked. “Eve, huh?” And anyway, the point is that we wouldn’t have even been noticed if we were allowed to sit outside. Doesn’t make much sense does it?”

Aziraphale could feel her face hearing. “Best not to question things. The rules are the rules, and they’re not that hard to follow. Just because something seems ineffable, doesn’t mean that it isn’t right.”

“Ineffable? Did you really just throw the word “ineffable” into conversation, just like that?”

Aziraphale answered with a glare.

“Just trying to give you some trouble,” she said, giving a blinding white smile.

“Well, I dare say you’ve succeeded. What were you thinking, bringing a boy on campus? And dressing him in our uniform, have you lost your mind?”

She paused because she could see how, across the bridge and down the hill, she could see Eve and the boy duck behind a crumbling stone wall as campus security drove by in a golf cart. 

“A boy? You mean Adam?”

She really should have reported this girl when she had the chance. “YES. HIM. Who else would I mean?”

Tony shrugged and leaned her shoulder and hip against the merlon next to Aziraphale’s, somehow lounging while still upright. “I dunno. Adam’s probably more a girl than me, I figure. They certainly look better in a skirt.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but glance down at Tony’s long legs, somehow making tartan pants look fashionable. They would just have to agree to disagree about that one. When her eyes came back up, Tony was smirking again, and the heat of the day seemed to have returned. Lightning flashed in the far distance, and they could see a curtain of rain begin to steadily make its way across the valley below.

“They’re going to get caught,” fretted Aziraphale, and she wasn’t sure if she meant in the rain or by security. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Tony took off her sunglasses, hooking the arm of them in the V of her linen blouse, which only emphasised that yes, she really had left the top button undone. She peered down the hill and then back to Aziraphale, and frowned. “Aren’t you a class rep?”

 Aziraphale’s brain had short circuited the moment she had met Tony’s eyes, no longer hidden by the sunglasses. ”What?”

‘“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” Tony asked, reaching out and twirling a finger over Aziraphale’s lapel, thumb smoothing over the spot the material still indented in. “I’m sure you did. It was glittery as anything.”

Aziraphale had never seen anything like her eyes. Like harvest moons, golden to the point of glowing. “Oh, um. Yes.”

“Lost it in the mad dash, huh? Or did Shadwell confiscate it?”

And there was that damnable smirk again, which finally broke her out of the spell of Tony’s eyes. “Well, if you must know, I gave it to Eve,” she huffed, her face burning under Tony’s scrutiny.

“You what?!” Asked Tony, her smirk dropping into an open mouthed, genuine laugh. 

“I gave it to Eve! She was trying to take Adam all the way back to the boys school, it’s dangerous! If she’s caught she could be expelled! So I said take the pin, don’t thank me, could help you get out of a tight spot, and don’t forget to be back before you’re missed. Oh, I do hope I made the right decision.”

Tony started to roll her eyes, seemed to remember she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and abruptly turned to look for Eve again. “Oh, I’m not sure an angel like you can do the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank a bit. Angel? What does she mean by that? Not that she cared what this delinquent thought of her, but she had thought she was being judged on the basis of her own merits, not by her family name. 

“Well, thank you for the reassurance, I guess,” her ingrained good manners forcing her response. Lightning flashed, immediately followed by a boom crack of thunder overhead. The curtain of rain swept up the mountain, obscuring their view of Eve and that idiot Adam. Aziraphale hurried to open the umbrella and with a flick of her eyes, communicated to Tony she should step under it. Not a moment too soon, because the rain poured down around them.  It was a tight fit, and Aziraphale could feel the heat from Tony’s body seeping into her body, from shoulder to hip.  

They stayed there together, eyes straining to see their friends through the storm.

TBC

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #290

“you’re a little pistol, & i’m fuckin’ pistol-whipped.”

What’s the biggest argument you’ve ever had with a family member? Did things ever go back to how they were beforehand? Definitely something with Mom. The biggest was probably in the car one night where she got so mad at me that she tried to kick me out of the car. No, I didn't listen. I don't really remember exactly what we were arguing about... other than it was something small that blew up about bigger themes. Have you ever experienced some kind of natural disaster? Hurricanes. If you have pets, do you feed them human food or do they just get regular pet food? If they do get human food, what’s their favorite thing to have? Roman only gets cat food. He's actually really well-trained about not taking human food after he did once as a kitten. Now he might just sniff around curiously and give it a look, but food can be pretty close to him and he doesn't go for it. Have you ever been in a physical fight? Who won? No. What were you lighting the last time you used a lighter or matches? Probably a candle. What’s the mode of transport that you take or use the most? Mom's car. Are there any sequels to things that you prefer to the original? I'm sure. Oh, Shrek comes to mind; I love the original, but the second is my favorite. What games do you play on your phone, if any at all? Just Pokemon GO, really. I have a couple others up there just for my niece and nephew to play. Aside from family, who was the last person you spent time with? How do you know that person? miss rona doesn't allow "hanging out." Do you spend a lot of money on your appearance? No. Have you ever had a zoo keeper experience or anything where you’ve been able to go behind the scenes and look after/feed the animals? I wish! :( Do you have an item that is your good luck charm? No. Your favorite thing about your job (or school)? N/A Least favorite thing about your job (or school)? N/A Do you have a "funny" toenail? No. Favorite canned soup? Meh, not a soup person. Do you have a particular coffee mug you drink from? No. Your take on declawing cats? It's cruel as fuck and you're despicable if you think it's all good and well to torture your cat like that. Do you have smoke detectors in your home? Yeah. What was your favorite snuggle toy when you were a child? First it was my little stuffed bunny that held a polka-dotted blanket, but through most of my childhood I cuddled a stuffed moose I got from Ohio at Cabela's. Brownie is still on top of my dresser. :') What did you do on your first date? Got Sonic and saw Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance in the theater. I had the weirdest first date in that he invited my mom lmao. I still count it as our first one, though. The last time you let someone go, was it to make yourself happy or them? Myself. Who was the last person that could tell something was wrong with you? My ma. Have you ever thought about online dating? If so, were you desperate? Well I had a long-distance relationship, but it wasn't through a dating app or anything. Had one of those once and am mortified by it (even though no one shoud be), but no, I wouldn't have called myself "desperate." I was just incredibly lonely. Do you try not to take a lot of medicine or do you take it whenever? I just take it if I need it, honestly. I've been medicated pretty heavily most of my life, so whatever. Are you ever scared of people reading your survey answers? I wouldn't put them out there if I was. Would you ever go back to your most recent ex? That's the plan if things go ideally, but I'm not letting my hopes get too high. It'll be nice if that happened, but I'll still live on if not. What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)? She has lots of pets. There's Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Jane Marie, Doris, Buster, Mango, and for her fish, I only know the one pleco's name: Raisha. When was the last time you got a splinter? I'm not sure. Are there any spiders in your room right now? I mean, probably. Somewhere. Have you ever taken a picture while laying in the grass? Not of myself. Who’s your favorite Disney charater? Dory. Are there any framed pictures of you in your house? In family shots, yes. What was the first television show you were obsessed with? Pokemon. Do you and your friends normally say you love one another? Definitely. How often would you say you get sick? Almost never. Let's not jinx it. Is there anything you get for free as a benefit for being a member of something? No. When were you the saddest in your life? 2016 was a year I'd wish upon absofuckinglutely nobody. Do you think bald guys are attractive? It would depend on the person? I don't find them inherently unattractive or attractive. If you don’t recognize the number of who’s calling, do you answer anyway? Nope. How do you pronounce route? "Rowt" What's the last thing you looked at under a microscope? Something during a biology lab when I was still in school. We looked at a number of stuff. Pretty cool. What internet service provider do you have? ... We just moved and changed providers and I already don't remember. Do you ever hear of something disgusting that you haven’t seen, so you go and look it up? This is very rare. If something is *disgusting*, I don't exactly wanna see it. If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be? I'd have to think on this. I'm not opposed to a subtle face tat anyway, maybe near my ear or eye. Has someone ever made you a Build-A-Bear? No... but I've always kinda wanted a partner to lmao that's cute as fuck. Who was the last person you were “in a relationship with” on Facebook (including anyone you may have put “in a relationship with” for a joke)? Sara. Were you ever “the other man/woman”? How did it turn out? How do you feel about it today? No, and I never would be. What do you think of open relationships? If your partner suggested it, what would you say? Not for me whatsoever, but it works for some people. I'd honestly leave the relationship because I'd feel like I wasn't good enough. Would you ever date out of your race? I have before, would do it again with no problems. Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? Oh, plenty! Did you have a swing set when you were a kid? Yes. Swings were my favorite outdoor "toy" as a kid. What is a book that you really want to read? The Testaments by Margaret Atwood. I fucking adore The Handmaid's Tale and I literally have the book, I'm just too into WoF to make time for it. What is something that you really want to try, whether it’s a hobby, food, etc.? A lot of things. I guess to name one... wow, now that I'm actually thinking, nothing is coming to me, lmao. What sort of things do you like to post or look at on Tumblr? Mark-related stuff, what a shocker. What type of people are you usually attracted to? "Different," but not in a super weird-you-out way. I like clearly unique, truly one-of-a-kind people. What song are you listening to at the moment? "Watching For Comets" by Skillet is on. I'm surprised I feel okay listening to it. How often do you take naps and how long do they usually last? Almost daily. They can be an hour or two... embarrassingly, haha. Who’s one person who changed how you viewed something? Hannah Hart on gay rights. How many pillows do you like to sleep with? Two. What was the best conversation you’ve had recently? I dunno. Have you ever considered modeling? Nooooooooooo sir. When was the last time you did something daring? ME? DARING? Who in the world knows. List five of your favorite foreign foods. Uhhhh. 1.) This requires a lot of thinking and 2.) I'm very uninformed in what is *actually* truly foreign food that I've eaten and not just an American adaptation. I'm not very adventurous with foods, either, especially when I know it's "foreign." What types of seafood are your favorite? I just like shrimp. Do you write a lot for pleasure? I wouldn't say "a lot" anymore. Do you like bacon? Oh yeah. Do you like Rammstein? Hell yeah, they're in my favorites list. Have you ever been to a State Fair? Maybe, but I don't think so. Do you like YouTube? Maaan, I don't know what I'd do without it lmao. If so what's your favorite channel? I like that Mark R. Pliers guy a little bit, and lately I've really been digging Snake Discovery and Hazelnuttygames. Good Mythical Morning/Rhett and Link are deep, deep in my heart still, even though I don't watch them anymore. There is truly a *lot*, it's why I don't need television, haha. What is your favorite small dog breed? Papillons, probably. When was the last time you went through a McDonald's Playplace? Oh yikes, no clue. I definitely haven't ~really~ been in one since I was much younger (uhhhh and smaller), but I do have a faint memory of starting to go in one chasing after a kid. Maybe my nephew when he and his dad visited? idr What was the first comic book you ever had an obsession over? I was never into comics. Do you like kids pop-up books? BITCH you are LYING if you say you don't like looking at the cool effects lmao. Have you ever ridden a camel? No. Have you ever punched somebody? No. Can you sing opera? Oh, definitely not. Who was the last person you video-called with? Have you done this more often since COVID hit? My therapist, and you could say that, considering I never did before because I hate video calls. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them annoyed you? What happened? Roman (my cat) was just playing too rough with my hand. He's always hyper in the morning. When was the last time you took a dog out for a walk? Is this your own dog or did you borrow someone else’s? Wow... it's been many years. I walked Teddy sometimes, but that definitely slowed down and eventually came to a halt as he aged and his joints got bad; he would hesitate going down the porch steps, and I didn't want him to get too tired mid-walk and then have to go up them. Have you ever been the victim of a theft or robbery? What was stolen? Did the police ever catch the person who did it? No, thankfully. Are you a fan of garlic bread? Do you eat it on its own or as part of a bigger meal? Garlic bread would ruin my life if I let it, lmao. It's always a side. When was the last time your area was under some kind of weather warning? Did it end up being as bad as predicted? There was literally a tornado warning three days ago. I don't think so, no, but then again I didn't really look into it. Do you prefer having the blinds/curtains open or closed when you’re at home? Does it depend on the weather or the time of day? OPEN. You NEED natural light, I promise. I used to like my room as dark as possible in my worst times, but I am so glad I cut that out. I like, feel a part of me lighten up when I open my blinds in the morning. Who was the last person to tag you in something on social media? How do you know that person? My mom shared something that reminded her of Roman. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No; I don't like lettuce in my burgers, so I'm sure I wouldn't like it. What brand is your vacuum cleaner? I'd have to check. Where was your favorite hangout as a kid? So at my childhood home, down the road was a "stream" (aka a ditch and drainage pipe going underneath the road) that usually had at least some water in it, but if it rained, it really started to feel more like a real stream to us kids because of the movement. It drained into the pond just beyond the woods, and my sisters and some neighbors loved to play around that area. What’s your favorite pizza topping? Pepperoni,ig. Which sport do you suck at the most? All of 'em lol. My hand-eye coordination is awful, and hell no can I run. Are you good at rapping? I've never tried, but I'm certain I wouldn't be. I stutter so badly, and it's been getting worse. Can you say the alphabet in more than one language? I know it in German. Do you eat three meals a day? It varies. What do you want out of life? Fulfillment. To feel like I did something worthwhile.

[olivianeesan]

AZIRAPHALE - Female-inspired

and most people didn’t even recognize the costume let alone want to hear my nerdy details about why I put it together the way I did so I thought I’d share with you, the Good Omens fandom, instead XD

I look terrible in waistcoats. TERRIBLE. So when hubs said he wanted to dress as Crowley and Aziraphale-- and he’s taller and skinny and I’m short and round so the assignments were clear --I had to start thinking about how to put together an Aziraphale look I was comfortable with.

So I thought, if Aziraphale fell in love with clothes in the Victorian era, what if he’d been presenting female at that time and had fallen for female Victorian clothes instead? So what if the look was still “Victorian-era clothes updated to moderately modern times (but still pretty old-fashioned looking)”...but starting with what’s popular in the Victorian era?

I managed to buy almost the entire thing on Amazon and fairly cheap!

- High-neck blouse with tie...and I lucked into some light brown and blue tartan fabric to replace the white tie it came with <3

- High-waist skirt selected to mimic a corselet skirt (more Edwardian than Victorian but SO WHAT). Color was originally a more russet brown but I used RIT dye remover to fade it into the cream color photographed

- COAT...this is the thing that took me the longest to find something I liked and that I could reasonably afford for a costume (cream/camel’s not my usual color). I wanted something that had a little more of a drapey/cape feel because in the Victorian era women wore CAPES. I woulda gone with an actual cape if I could have found one in the right color!

- Shoes - I wanted something with buttons that had a little bit of the right feel, I didn’t want to wear spats or faux-spats. I tried to find a French heel but didn’t find one I liked in the right color and price range so I went with these (which I will wear again).

- Shitty blonde wig. I hate wearing wigs because I always buy crappy cheap ones-- I took this off maybe a half hour or so into the party --but I don’t usually wear costumes that require wigs so there’s not usually a point buying good ones...oh well.

So...yeah. I hope some costume / fashion history nerds find this and enjoy this (even if it’s to rip me to shreds) ^^

[ineffablegame]

I was reading the prompt list you reblogged and thought 17 would be interesting to see play out. Especially in an older setting, when Az and Crowley aren't as comfortable with each other. Maybe using the deleted scene of Az opening the bookshop? Though I'm sure you could make the modern setting just as enjoyable

@vvcorvusvv I hope it isn’t too long! and I hope you expected Moses when you made this ask, because of course Moses.

Warnings for some disturbing imagery and minor (Biblical) character death, as well as images borrowed from Prince of Egypt.

Also published on my Ao3.

Reeds

The moment Crawley enters the Egyptian city of Pi Ramesses, he knows something is deeply wrong.

It clots the air, a miasma of anguish so choking it sets him back on his heels.  As angels are attuned to the divine emotions – love, joy, contentment – so demons are to the infernal, the sorrow, the wrath, the hate.  It is a sense not unlike smell or taste, and the grief billowing downwind from the Nile carries distinct notes of death and rot. His camel arches its neck in alarm and he tightens his grip on the reins.  Bile sours the back of his throat.  To his knowledge, Hell played no part in this, which means…

Crawley is about to turn his camel around and flee when a fresh wave of grief barrels into him.  This one is entirely different from the rest – a glacial knife of shock and sorrow.  Crawley recognizes the divine imprint of that grief.  He hesitates.  His tongue darts out, viper-swift, and tastes the faintest trace of apples.

“Blast,” he mutters, and flicks the reins.  The camel plods into the heart of Pi Ramesses.

It takes time, winding through the narrow streets, chasing the elusive taste of apples.  Crawley counts himself lucky the angel did not linger long in the city, did not trace and re-trace the maze of dusty pathways, leaving his scent everywhere, impossible to track.  But his relief withers as the scent leads him through the Egyptian quarter – clean, quiet, untainted by grief – and toward the slave ghetto.  The two neighborhoods are separated by shallow decline of sandstone and a stretch of bare earth.

Crawley halts his camel at the top of the hill.  If he stretches his senses, he can just catch them:  scraps of wailing and screaming, babies crying. Whispers beside the tidal grief crashing over him.

And there it is again:  the angel’s sorrow, cold dread.

Setting his jaw, Crawley guides the camel down the hillside and across the empty land.  The lamentations grow louder as the distance shrinks, the raw clamor of emotion very nearly overwhelming.  Every tendon in Crawley’s body is strung tight as he urges the camel into the melee, cursing the beast for its good sense to be afraid, cursing himself for being fool enough to keep going.  As he moves through the ghetto, chasing the trail, screams and sobs assail him.  They come from the homes, little more than clay hovels, and bleed shrieking into the streets.

Crawley drags the camel to a stop as, scant yards ahead, an Egyptian man emerges from one of the hovels.  A screaming baby is slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.  A woman chases him, eyes streaming, face contorted in a rictus of horror.  The man backhands her and she staggers against the wall of the hovel, dazed.

Crawley doesn’t think – only reacts, hand flying up to pluck a shred of infernal power from Below.  The Egyptian’s eyes glaze over and he slumps, topples.  Crawley snatches the baby from his limp grasp the moment before he hits the ground.  A boy, mere weeks old, maybe less.

“Take this,” he snarls in Hebrew, shoving the baby into his mother’s unsteady hands.  “And get out!”

He forges onward, horror prickling at his insides as the truth of the situation sinks in.  Boys, all baby boys.  Boys held aloft by their legs, thrown over shoulders, ripped from their mothers’ arms. Babies screaming in uncomprehending, instinctual terror.  He helps where he can, throwing miracles like sparks cast off a flame, but the Egyptians are endless.  He may as well fight the ocean with a guttering candle.  

Crawley sucks in a breath as the camel rushes out an alleyway and into a clearing beside the Nile.  In the burnished light of the sinking sun, the water runs a carnal red.  Reeds crowd the riverbank, swaying in a placid breeze.  For the briefest instant, Crawley’s focus is fixed on the reeds:  the peaceful, hollow rattle of husk on husk.

And then the scene crashes over him in a torrent of grief.  A woman lies inert on the shore, arms tangled over her head. Her face is turned toward the sky, splattered with red clay-mud, eyes fixed sightlessly on the inkblot twilight. The neckline of her shift is dark with congealing blood.  A pair of children stand beside her, a boy and a girl.  The boy is sobbing, great, heaving wails that seem wrenched out of him with every gulping breath.  The girl simply stares.  She is beyond tears.

Crawley casts his gaze out across the Nile and sees him:  Aziraphale, standing waist-deep in the water just beyond the reeds. The angel has a dark bundle cradled in his arms.

Crawley clicks his tongue and the camel trudges forward.  As they near the riverbank, the demon slips off the camel’s back and lands with a wince.  With a snap of his fingers, the children are frozen in time.

Mud sucks at Crawley’s sandals as he stops, stiff-legged, on the edge of the Nile.  “Aziraphale!”

The angel startles as if from a daze.  Turning slowly, Aziraphale regards him.  “Oh.  Crawley.”

“Get over here, you great fool,” Crawley calls.  He doesn’t know why he bothers, doesn’t let himself dwell on it.  “Hurry, before—”

His words are drowned in a rush as the waters of the Nile mound up around Aziraphale, snapping apart in a cascade of droplets.  The maw of a crocodile appears, scything the water with horrible speed, teeth bared to ruin and rend.  Aziraphale fumbles with the bundle only to bend double when it threatens to slip out of his arms.  The crocodile speeds closer and Crawley’s heart leaps into his throat.  Aziraphale pries an arm free and raises his hand to pluck down a miracle from Above.

A snap reverberates through the air. The crocodile collapses sideways in a shower of water, submerged.  When it resurfaces, it has become a piece of driftwood, hollow and termite-ridden and floating fast downstream.  It may return to crocodile-shaped before it reaches the delta.  If it remembers to.

Aziraphale, still clutching the bundle, stares at Crawley in disbelief.  “You…”

Crawley lowers his hand, fingers still smarting with infernal power.  He can’t begin to fathom why he just did that.  Clearing his throat, he calls, “Get out of the river, angel.  Before another one comes along.”

Nodding, still dazed, Aziraphale trudges toward the bank.  The bundle in his arms resolves into a basket of reeds and pitch, slick as fish scales.  The angel steps onshore, his linen kilt soaked through.  Crawley averts his eyes.  “Miracle yourself dry, for pity’s sake.”

“Oh.”  Aziraphale shuffles the basket in his arms, which emits a faint whimpering noise. Crawley’s heart sinks.  Growing impatient, he snaps his fingers – no sense in subtlety at this point – and Aziraphale sucks in a breath as the water purls off his skin, out of his kilt.  “Um. Thank you, Crawley.”

“What’s that,” Crawley demands, eyeing the basket.

Aziraphale’s blank expression crumples into sorrow.  Crawley winces, stung by the keen chill of it.  He extends his empty hands.  The angel surrenders the basket with infinite care.

Crawley lifts the lid and hisses out a curse.  A baby boy lies inside, damp and grizzling but overall unharmed.  The basket was clearly made with care, bound tightly with twine, each gap stoppered with pitch.  The love imbued between the reeds stings Crawley’s hands.  He darts a glance toward the three humans, still frozen.

“It’s hers,” he surmises, meaning the dead woman.

Aziraphale’s voice is low, quavering.  “Yes… yes, he is.”  He swallows. “Was.”

“What happened?”

The angel drags in a shuddering breath.  “She tried to escape.  Been hiding the child for months, apparently.  Her plan was to… to hide the baby in the reeds until the Egyptians left, but…”  His eyes dart to the mud, to the red rush of the river.  Anywhere but to meet Crawley’s gaze.  “An Egyptian man saw her and…”  He gestures, helplessly, eyes flitting skyward.  “I sent him away.  I couldn’t… couldn’t kill him.”

Crawley can hear the words beneath the words, whisper-soft:  I wish I was strong enough to.

He buries his pity.  “This madness had better not be your lot’s doing.”  He means it to be bitter as gall, but the words emerge a plea.  He thinks of lashing rain, pillars of salt.

Aziraphale tenses.  Blinking hard, he shakes his head.  “It wasn’t.  It couldn’t have been.”

You don’t know, Crawley thinks, but holds his tongue.  The world is still new, still an infant bobbing helplessly along in the current of time, and he has not yet exhausted the endless quirks of his human body, but he knows what is it to weep.  If Aziraphale hasn’t learned that yet, he is about to.

“I see,” he says.  “But why…?”

“Pharaoh was worried the Hebrews would become too strong,” Aziraphale says. He lowers a finger into the basket, touches the baby’s brow.  The whimpering infant subsides into sleep at once.  “So he… h-he…”

Another wave of anguish rolls off the angel, nearly dragging Crawley into its icy depths.  Shuddering, he gathers the basket closer, pressing the sting of love to his chest. “Humans always find ways to outdo us, don’t they.”

His thoughts are on the Flood and they pour into his voice, fouling the words. Aziraphale’s mouth flattens in a grim line that belies his unshed tears.  “They… they had done wrong, that time.  God was angry with them.”

“Just like She was angry with Sodom and Gomorrah,” Crawley volleys back.  “Yes, I’m sure they all deserved to die.  Just like those babies in the river.”

Aziraphale flinches as if struck.  Crawley’s fingers bite into the reed hull of the basket and he steels himself. Regret sits rancid in his belly.  He hadn’t wanted to hurt the angel, not really, but if he hadn’t uttered the words, hadn’t come up for breath, the noxious cacophony of memories swirling between them would have choked him.

“Angel,” he begins.

But Aziraphale has already unfurled his wings, a hard light battering back the misery in his eyes.  “God has plans for that child,” he says, beating his wings in a gust of mud and grit. “If you don’t want to be destroyed, I would counsel you leave well enough alone, fiend.”

He is gone before Crawley can reply, rising into the sky and winking out of sight.  The cold aura of his sorrow lingers, burrowing into Crawley’s bones.  The demon rises, basket held close, and approaches the reeds.  As he lays the basket in the water and urges the current to carry him someplace safe, a sense of loss worms its way inside him.  It makes a home, hollows him out.

He goes to the frozen family and stares down at the woman.  She must have been alive mere minutes ago.  Her hands bent the reeds, tied the twine, laid the pitch.  Crawley wishes he could breathe life into her.  Animals and plants he can do, but a human life is beyond his power to reclaim.

Crawley kneels before the children and snaps his fingers, restoring time. The girl stares at him with mute shock.

“You will forget this,” Crawley intones, “and come with me.”

-

Later, there will be whispers in the slave ghetto about Jochebed and her children.

The whispers will say this:  that Jochebed was forever changed after the Egyptians came for the baby boys on that terrible day.

This would, in itself, be unsurprising.  Every woman who felt her child torn from her arms to be given to the Nile was ripped in two, that day, never to be whole again. That was the way of the Egyptian masters – they took you apart, piece by piece by precious piece, and found still more to crush underfoot.

But Jochebed was changed beyond that.  Oh, she was still Jochebed, to be sure.  But after that day, a peculiar witchlight entered her eyes, a gleam that seemed almost golden if you looked at it right.  A predator’s stare, one that dared its foes to threaten her or her children. A serpent’s stare, always coiled on the verge of striking.

Her children were changed, too.  After that day, her son Aaron grew sharper, always ready with a quip, always dropping pithy pieces of knowledge like grains of sand in his cupped palms. Silvertongued and keen, his wit surpassed even that of the Pharaoh’s counselors.  And then there was Miriam, whose singing could coax asps to lay pliant in her hands.  She had a songbird’s voice and light, dancing feet, and her mind sheared holes in the fabric of the universe to wheedle out its secrets.  Prophetess, they would call her.  One day.

The baby boy was restored to Jochebed for a time to be nursed.  When Pharaoh’s men came to take the baby to his new home, the whispers say Jochebed wept.  But none dared ask her if it was true.

And when the time came – when Aaron and Miriam were grown, able to fend for themselves and care for one another – Jochebed vanished.  The whispers say she took herself off to the Nile, as had so many other mothers who lost their sons.  No body was found, but that was common enough – the crocodiles were always waiting, always hungry.

The baby boy – Moses, he was named – has a story all his own.  But that is a tale for another time.

[butternbeansohmy]

The Feeling Of Rain

Second prompt written for @ineffablehusbandsweek

This is also on my AO3 and the link is on my tumblr page :)

Day 2: Rain

Crowley/Aziraphale, 1,532 words, romance

Crowley had always liked the rain.

You could blame his reptilian side for that probably. Overcast skies and humid air always put him in a good mood - which made him stand out even more from the population of humans he lived amongst.

There were days where he'd just stand in the rain, letting it soak through his clothing and his hair, and he'd grin like a maniac, scaring anyone who found him like that.

Aziraphale had scolded him many times, especially when he would arrive at the bookshop dripping wet, the water leaving puddles on the wooden floor. Crowley would shrug him off with a simple, "it's just water", and then collapse onto the couch in the back. He always made sure to make it water proof though because it would ease Aziraphale, and he rather liked the couch and didn't need to see it get moldy from being damp all the time.

Crowley always tried to get the angel to go in the rain with him, but it was impossible to do so. The angel was stubborn when he wanted to be, and he always started his arguments with fussing about his clothes getting wet. As if they weren't capable of miracling away the water afterwards, or making the clothes waterproof.

It was the idea of it Crowley supposed.

Even after everything had happened, Aziraphale was still a bundle of worries and stress. Crowley didn't remember a time that he'd ever seen Aziraphale fully relax.

They were sitting in the book shop like usual, Aziraphale sipping his hot cocoa and reading some victorian era book for the hundredth time, and Crowley was laying on the couch, a plan starting to form in his mind.

"Hey angel, do you know what the weathers going to be like tonight?" He asked as casually as he could.

Aziraphale made a non comital noise, and Crowley could hear some rustling. "It's supposed to rain tonight dear, why?" Aziraphale asked airily.

Crowley wasn't facing Aziraphale, so he had no idea how the angel would react to his next words, so he decided to get up and face the music. He arranged himself so he was sitting upright and turned towards Aziraphale. That seemed to get the angel's attention and Aziraphale set his book down.

"Is something wrong dear?" Aziraphale asked cocking his head to the side like a confused dog.

"No, everything's fine." Crowley cleared his throat nervously and splayed his legs out more, trying to give off the air of confidence.

"I wanted to ask a favor of sorts-"

"What did we talk about Crowley?" Aziraphale interrupted.

Crowley stopped and pouted, of all the bloody times Aziraphale had to remember their new arrangement. Which wasn't really a new arrangement and was more so only affecting Crowley. The angel had given a long spiel after the apocalypse that now that they were on the same side now they needed to have absolute trust in each other. Crowley thought that they already had it, but Aziraphale had explained that him keeping his sunglasses on all the time would encourage him to lie since Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see his eyes and determine whether the demon was telling the truth or not.

So there went the sunglasses, unless they were in public or Aziraphale forgot to mention to Crowley that the demon should take them off. Crowley was a little hurt that the angel still needed a visual to tell him Crowley wasn't lying, but the demon assumed that old habits died hard and he tried not to let his emotions show too much in front of Aziraphale.

Crowley let out a sigh and took off his glasses, laying them gently down onto the seat cushion beside him.

"As I was saying," he drawled, throwing a pointed look at Aziraphale, "I wanted to ask a favor of sorts. You do something for me - just this once - and in return I'll do something for you."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and shifted forward so he was leaning all his weight on the chairs arm rest closest to Crowley.

"I'm intrigued." He said, waving his hand for Crowley to continue.

"I will read a book, one book only let me reiterate, if you go out in the rain with me tonight."

Aziraphale's face scrunched up with displeasure. "What is your obsession with the rain." Aziraphale huffed.

Crowley sheepishly looked away and that made Aziraphale lean in even closer, seeing that Crowley was becoming uncomfortable with question. Crowley looked down to where his sunglasses were, resisting the urge to snatch them up. They vanished from his line of sight as soon as he looked at them, and he turned his head to find them in the angel's hand.

"That's not fair." He murmured.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and snapped his finger, sending the sunglasses somewhere inside the shop. Or maybe, because Aziraphale despised them so much, he'd sent them to the Arabian Desert so a camel could step on it.

"Well?" Aziraphale asked expectantly.

"Well..." Crowley took a deep breath and tried to keep eye contact with Aziraphale. "Because it means a lot to me and i'd like to share it with you. You always talk down about it but you haven't even tried it." There was a small begging tone to Crowley's words and Aziraphale's face softened.

"I get to chose the book then." He said eventually.

"As long as it's not boring." Crowley said smiling, excited that he'd gotten Aziraphale to agree with him. His smile dropped as he thought it through and changed to a grimace, "and whatever you choose, it better bloody not be Oscar Wilde."

Crowley spent the rest of the day struggling to read Shakespeares "Much Ado About Nothing." He wouldn't admit it to Aziraphale but the reason why didn't like to read was due to the strain it put on his eyes. He couldn't go longer than ten minutes before a dull ache would start behind his eyes, and blossom into a full blown headache.

He counteracted the strain from his eyes by closing his eyes every now and then, and telling Aziraphale that he was just processing all that he had read. Aziraphale had been taken away by how into the book Crowley was, and didn't make any further comments when the demon shut his eyes.

The things he did for his angel, Crowley thought to himself as the dull headache returned after another bought of reading.

***

He was nearly half way done when the soft patter of rain hit the shop windows.

Crowley looked away from the book eagerly and set it down open faced on the table. Aziraphale sent him a disapproving look and reached over to close it properly.

"Let's get going angel, we'll start with just a drizzle." Crowley leaped off the couch and launched for the door, not waiting for Aziraphale to catch up. As soon as he was outside he lifted his head up and just let the rain splatter onto his face. The water was cool but the swirling humid heat cancelled it out.

He turned back to the shop and crooked a finger for Aziraphale to come out from the shelter of the bookshops doorway, and step into the rain.

Aziraphale hesitantly stepped out and shuddered as the rain's pace changed, going from a light drizzle to a steady rain fall. Lightning lit up the night sky, showing off Crowley's tender and welcoming grin and Aziraphale's hesitant eyes.

"Its just water." Crowley said soothingly, urging the angel to come closer to him.

The streets were pleasantly empty - neither side was sure if the other had miracled it that way - and the soft warm glow from the streetlights caused shadows to dance over their faces. To Crowley, Aziraphale had never looked more beautiful, with the soft light framing his body, and his curls getting matted down from the rain.

Aziraphale was having similar thoughts, as he watched Crowley make a large spinning motion with his arms spread wide open.

"Just breathe it in." Crowley yelled.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "You're crazy!" He called back, wrapping his arms around his cold figure.

Crowley paused and stood stock still, his body turned towards Aziraphale, but his head was still titled up towards the sky. He said something and Aziraphale moved closer, unable to hear over the pounding rain.

"What dear?"

Crowley looked down at him just as another lightning flash illuminated the sky. Crowley's yellow eyes were a beacon in the rain, drawing Aziraphale in as the demon regarded him in silence. A slender hand cupped Aziraphale's round chin, and Crowley leaned down, his eyes locked on Aziraphale's blue ones.

Aziraphale shuddered but it wasn't from the cold rain.

"Maybe I am crazy." Crowley whispered, his lips mere inches away from Aziraphale's, his eyes searching for an answer to a question he didn't dare ask, but Aziraphale was more than willing to answer.

"Does that scare you?" Crowley asked, the rain pounding around them faded to the background as Aziraphale whispered, "no," and pulled Crowley into a soft but determined kiss.

Maybe Aziraphale didn't hate the rain as much as he used to, Crowley certainly loved it even more.

[dorotheajanegilmore]

Devil’s Daughter [Dean Winchester]

Catch up: 1

CHAPTER TWO

I came too in a warehouse, tied to hard metal chair with wet ropes that were burning my skin.

"Well look who finally decided to join us." Came a male British voice. The man stepped out of the darkness, walking towards me with a bottle of water. He was wearing a black suit and had a smirk tugging at his lips, looking at me with a cruel smile.

"What do you want from me?" I breathed out, my flesh sizzling under the rope.

"My name's Crowley and I need your help devil spawn. I want your father's ass back in a cage and you and your little powers are the only thing that can help me."

"Excuse me?" I lifted my head, looking up at him in bewilderment. "My father? Cage? Powers?"

"Yes?" Crowley narrowed his eyes at me and looked me up and down. "There's something wrong with you..."

"Gee, thanks."

Crowley bit back a smirk and shook his head. "No. You're more...human, than I expected. Do you know who you are?"

I shook my head and he sighed. I shrugged and told him, "It's like my head's been wiped. I had a flash back earlier but it was just of my friend calling my name."

Crowley stepped closer to em, it was a slow menacing step that had adrenaline cursing through my veins. He reached into his deep pockets and pulled out a knife. He flipped it in his fingers so the blade was pointing towards me.

"Whatcha got there friend?" I mumbled, starring at the metal blade that he was about to pierce me with.

Crowley chuckled and lifted the rope from my arm. He sliced the ropes and let them hit the floor before holding out a hand to me.

I skeptically took it and he pulled me from my seat. He threaded my arm through his and helped me walk out of the warehouse.

The sun had disappeared and was now replaced with a starry night sky, a beautiful dot to dot of sparkles.

We turned a corner and there in front of us was a shiny black car. It was a vintage beauty, gleaming under the moonlight. As we got closer the two front doors opened and two tall men stepped out.

I recognised the first guy from earlier and sent him an uneasy smile. He looked relieved to see me, he gave me an uncertain smile. "Hey Dean." I nodded and he nodded back, not saying anything.

"Elle, we're gonna go somewhere and I'm going to explain everything to you. I may be evil but I'm certainly fair." Crowley told me in a raspy voice as he placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me to the car, Dean opened the back door and I got in.

I slid across the smooth leather until I met the other door. I strapped in and tried not to cry, feeling my emotions rushing the surface. I truly had no idea who I was, where I was going or what I was about to face.

We were thirty minutes into the drive when the guy in the passenger side spoke up. "So, Elle is it?"

"I think so." I answered truthfully. He gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded.

"Well, I'm Sam. I'm Dean's brother. He told me about those guys and I'm so sorry."

The memory of Clay and Davey entered my mind and I looked at Crowley with wide eyes. "Were those your guys?" I snapped, feeling fear creep up once again.

Crowley gave me a sad smile and raised his hands. "I needed to get you somehow. But hey, as far as I was concerned you were this mega evil devil child that would kill me."

I narrowed my eyes at him and shook my head. "So what did you just hire these guys to ambush and drug me or were the beatings your plan too?"

"Just a simple drug and drag, they had to fight you. You were a feisty one." Crowley sighed and pulled out his phone. He brought up the name clay and pressed call.

"Hello imbecile how are ya? Yeah it's Crowley. Listen, so the girl you kidnapped for me...yeah, brown eyes...that's the one...all right, calm down...yeah she is...say that again and I'll rip your throat out! Disgusting!"

A shiver ran up my spine and I felt disgust at whatever that horrible man was saying about me. It's a good thing I'm not some powerful being, I'd tear his head off.

"Yes, well turns out she's not the girl. Mhm...no no, I won't punish you, not for this. Simple mistake really." Crowley continued and rolled his eyes at me, he raised a hand opening and closing his fingers to his palm, mocking him as Clay yapped in his ear.

"Righto. Well I was just calling to let you know that she's not happy with your treatment, and neither am I. You see you took the torture a bit too far and now I have to deal with a skittish vessel and that's not gonna do me any favours. I'd watch your back if I were you."

Crowley hung up the phone and gave me a big smile. "Don't worry, darling. As soon as we get your powers back he's all yours."

"I thought you said you had the wrong girl?" Dean cut in from the front seat, clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white.

"Well I had to say that didn't I. Nobody can know about this. As soon as word gets out that Lucifer has another child, especially a more powerful one, hunters from all over will start to track'er down."

I shook my head and tried to block out all of his nonsense. As soon as we get to wherever they're taking me and I figure out who I am, I'm outta here.

———

I followed them into a run down building that looked derelict. Sam referred to it as "the bunker" and told me how they were legacies of The Men Of Letters, a phrase that meant nothing to me. But I nodded politely and followed him inside.

Something about Sam put me at ease, made me feel safe. Dean had an uneasy vibe about it, sure he might have saved my life with turning his shirt into a tourniquet but right now, he seems like he hates me.

Walking through the front doors I noticed two people stand up and approach us. I hide myself behind Sam's large frame and he held a hand out for me to grab. Worried that Clay and Davey had returned I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, praying that they wouldn't hurt me.

"You can stop praying, we won't hurt you." One of the Guys said, sounding much different than Clay or Davey. I peaked around Sam and saw a guy in a camel coloured trench coat and a younger guy in a plain white t-shirt and jeans.

“How did. I didn't.. what?"

The man shrugged not knowing what to tell me.

I shook my head, I must be going crazy. I cleared my throat and followed Sam, Dean and Crowley into the parlour. They offered me a seat on the couch and I took it, feeling exhausted and the burning on my thigh increase.

I hissed as my thigh hit the leather and Sam looked at Dean in concern. Dean disappeared around the corner and reappeared seconds later with a medical kit.

Dean sat beside me and gestured to my leg with his large hands. "Can I?" He asked and I nodded. He brought my leg up to rest in his lap and began untying the blood soaked flannel.

The two men stood behind the couch opposite us as Crowley sat down, scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.

The flannel came off and I looked away, not wanting to see the hole in my leg. I heard a gasp and turned to see Dean looking bewildered at my leg.

"What?" I asked before looking down. My pale thigh had a thick layer of blood but there was nothing fresh.

Dean took a cloth and began to dab at the wound, looking at me for a reaction. But it didn't hurt. He did it harder and all of the blood was wiped up, ravelling a scar-free thigh.

"Was there definitely a wound?" The friendly guy in a trench coat asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I plugged it with my shirt."

"I felt it burning a few seconds ago." I told him and he nodded.

Feeling self conscious I lifted my leg from Dean's lap and twisted so I had both legs on the floor and was able to rest my elbows on my knees. I hide my face in my hands and tried not to cry.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and then heard Dean awkwardly clear his throat. "Hey, Elle. It's okay. We're gonna help you ok, well figure this out."

I let out a tired laugh and shook my head in my hands. "I have no idea who I am, where I am or what you people are gonna do to me. I'm willingly sitting on a strangers couch with wounds that healed in a matter of hours. With a guy who can read my thoughts, a guy that was beaten with me but is apparently fine now, his brother and the guy who sent those freaks after me."

"Hey, we can help you." Dean confirmed. I sighed and pulled myself up to look at him, I raised a brow and he took a deep breath. "I promise. And I don't break promises."

"No offence but that doesn't mean much to me."

"I wouldn't expect it to." Dean nodded with a chuckled. "But give me a chance."

Tags:

@lilulo-12

[waterofthemoon]

Advent Calendar - Day 7

Advent Calendar Master Post | The Holly and the Ivy on AO3

7. Silent Night

Crowley finds him standing outside a church in the middle of the night, staring at the nativity scene in their courtyard.

Aziraphale doesn't say anything for a long moment. He feels a bit silly, honestly, but then, Crowley's never minded that too much. Still, he keeps on not saying anything until Crowley rests a hand at the small of his back.

"Do you—" Remember, like I do?

"Yeah," Crowley says. "'Course. Hard to forget, that." His voice sounds a little rough, which is reassuring. "Wasn't a night like this, though. Bit warmer."

"Mmm," Aziraphale agrees. The large figurines the church is using are a bit tacky, and woefully inaccurate besides. But the scene still brings him back to that dark night, the smell of the animals, the cry of the Almighty’s very human newborn child.

Crowley laughs suddenly. "Remember your old boss? And the shepherds?"

"I do," Aziraphale says, and he laughs, too. He was supposed to be in the angelic chorus that night, but he got distracted by one thing or another, and then by Crowley turning up in disguise as a snake. By the time they got there, the shepherds were cowering in fear, except for the ones who were giving Gabriel extremely skeptical looks, which was most of them. Gabriel didn't wear a suit in those days, but the effect was the same.

"And the magi," Crowley continues. "That was my favorite part. Bunch of scholars and philosophers, caravaning through the desert, asking if we happened to have seen a baby. I remember, you put that great light in the sky."

Aziraphale frowns and turns to stare at Crowley, incredulous. "That wasn't me. Have you spent all this time thinking I did the Star of Bethlehem?"

"It wasn't? Huh." Crowley pauses momentarily, then shrugs. "Well, anyway, they were great fun to travel with, especially the one guy who worked out that I knew something about astronomy. Awfully nice of them to loan us a camel, too."

"Come now, you hated that camel," Aziraphale protests. "It spit on you, as I recall."

Crowley shudders. "Thanks, I was repressing that."

They look at each other and share another laugh, and then Crowley offers his hand. "Come on," he says. Aziraphale is glad, for once, that he doesn't say angel. "Let's go home, hmmm? You can relive the past some more once we're cozy in bed, instead of out here, freezing our wings off."

Aziraphale takes his hand, a lifeline against the darkness, as it always has been. He starts to turn away from the nativity, then stops.

"Do you think He knew, how it would all—do you think She—"

"You know they didn't," Crowley says, soft. He squeezes Aziraphale's hand. "It's all—what's your favorite word again?"

"Oh, stop," Aziraphale says, but he lets Crowley lead him away from the church and through the silent night.

[dustydreamsanddirtyscars]

Question. What was your take in the episode where Dean killed himself-with the promise of Sam reviving him? I keep reading where people think Dean was committing suicide with no intentions of coming back. Selfishly (their words, not mine) leaving Sam behind. I see it as yes, he did want to die for the purpose of the hunt but fully intended to be revived. It was only after the little tête-à-tête with Billie that he made the decision to stay. She was the straw that broke the camel. 1 of 2

After everything he’d been through and lost - and yes his brother did as well but let’s face it Sam didn’t have the same relationship or closeness with Cas nor is his default setting stuck on “I’m worthless unless I can save everyone”. And his mom? And Chuck help me, Crowley? Dean was emotionally hanging on by a thread. One more powerful entity showing up pushing him around like a chess piece? I think he was like the lizard over the spit. Stick a fork in him, he was done. Oops I forgot...  And if Dean is guilty of selfishly committing suicide what do they think Sam agreeing to go with Death at the end of Sacrifice was? After he told Dean in the church he wanted to live. I never got an answer for that question from the poster who was so disgusted with Dean for being a coward by committing suicide and not telling Sam why or that that was what his intent was.

Hello dear anon!

I’m sorry it took me days to get back to your ask. Really, life just leaves little free time lately. :/   

I guess you are referring to the episode 13x05 “Advanced Thanatology”, right? Because for a second I thought you may also talk about 11x17 “Red Meat”, which definitely works as a mirroring episode somewhat, but of course that hadn’t featured Mary yet, so...

My take on Dean pushing the needle down and how quick he was to go for the possibility overall absolutely worked as a framework for how fragile Dean’s grip on wanting to live was and how depressed and disillusioned the past events (his whole life really) left him, but I do agree that Dean - even though he wouldn’t have minded to die in the process - did first and foremost use “dying” here as a means to solve the case. If his life would have ended up being collateral damage, but would have worked in saving others however I think Dean would have been okay with that.

I think it is a very difficult, complicated and two-fold moment in which two things can be true at the same time even if on the surface they might cancel one another out. Dean has been battlign depression and lack of self worth his whole life, that he is still standing after everything he’s been through is a miracle, so it is not surprising that a few times over the course of the show we see Dean (and Sam as well) come to his limits. The problem is (and that also showed in this week’s episode again) that the show only brings these aspects up in extreme manner here and there, but don’t include it over more episodes (in this regard S7 imo was golden in terms of characterization with Dean’s depression and drinking, because it was very decidely part of almost every episode in one way or another and it was similar during the MoC arc) so that for some people it feels thinsg come out of nowhere and have no base - especially when the boys are shown to be perfectly okay the next epsiode (that is just inconsistent and lazy writing sadly).

So to come back to your original question and point, I actually think that both was true at the same time:

a) that Dean was okay to die just so it could all be over, because he was at the end of his rope

and

b) that he didn’t think the consequences through but just chose that option in order to work the job, but didn’t consciously “kill himself” there

It may not make sense to anyone, but to me these things aren’t mutually exclusive, especially when topics as heavy as suicide, depression and the likes are concerned - things are never easy and never black and white.

As for the events of 8x23 “Sacrifice” and 9x01 “I Think I’m Going To Like It Here”, the turnaround to that imo played out over S10 and in particular 10x23 “Brother’s Keeper” where Dean wants to go with Death, but is held back by Sam.

I don’t know why this fandom needs to paint one brother’s decision of the same nature - in this case dieing - in a more favorable light than they do with the other. There is no difference. There are just two characters who have been through literally hell and back and they have their struggles they face every day and sometimes they just can’t seem to fathom to be able to go on any longer. And none of them is better or worse than the other in the times they were “ready to die”. If the person you refer to painted Dean’s decision in being okay to die as “selfsih”, then Sam’s can be seen that way just the same. And frankly, I don’t think what the show intended to be the takeaway for any of those scenes for the audience to place blame and hate on any of the brothers. If that was a takeaway to said person I think they should think again.

Hope I did manage to somehow give a decent reply, but it is a delicate topic, so I hope none of this was triggering or upsetting for anyone to read. If so I sincerely apologize, it was not my intention at all.