#crowley's secret is safe for another day

[unforgivable-thatswhatiam]

The (Ineffable) Art of Loving

The secret of GO lies in the pure beauty and profound depth of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. Theirs is one of the most moving love stories I’ve ever encountered in fiction—without a doubt.

They weren’t made to love each other. And yet, they discover that they are.

From the day 1, they struggle against their feelings — the attraction, the fascination, the longing. But despite five millennia of efforts before the Arrangement began, they can’t stay apart.

So, they make a choice. Perhaps not fully realising it was love at the time — but still, they chose each other.

“Love isn't something natural. Rather it requires discipline, concentration, patience, faith, and the overcoming of narcissism. It isn't a feeling, it is a practice.”

I think these words perfectly describe what Crowley and Aziraphale share. And I hope that Erich Fromm wouldn't mind if in this post I'll quote his The Art of Loving to explore more deeply the nature of the bond that binds the Ineffable Couple, their real love.

First, they show concentration on the other

They have patience - and respect for the other's needs

They have faith in the other - put their lives in the other's hands

There isn't in them - or I haven't noticed - any narcissism to overcome.

They aren't the typical dysfunctional fictional couple that audiences are trained to romanticise. They're not some Ross&Rachel or Buffy&Spike. Their relationship is anything but dysfunctional.

Aziraphale and Crowley don't hurt each other out of whim or caprices or the tropes of longing streched thin by time and space, they hurt each other because they love too much: I can't give you holy water, it'll destroy you completely; you are so clever, but also so stupid for still believing God might do something for the humans, but She ignores all of us; and so on with other painful truths spoken when love has nowhere safe to land.

To love someone whose very nature is meant to oppose yours — who was literally made to be your enemy and has the precise office to cancel you out — as an angel and a demon, should be impossible. It's difficult even for us, ordinary humans with our different natures! It seems unthinkable for them. And yet... their bond is ineffable.

Across the centuries, we see them dance together and get their own rhythm, softening the edges. They adapt, adjust, and grow — in the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, not only gazing at each other, but looking together in the same direction too.

And they choose. Again and again, they choose.

“Love is a decision, it is a judgment, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go. How can I judge that it will stay forever, when my act does not involve judgment and decision?”

“Love is not primarily a relationship to a specific person; it is an attitude, an orientation of character which determines the relatedness of a person to the world as a whole, not toward one “object” of love.”

“If I truly love one person I love all persons, I love the world, I love life. If I can say to somebody else, "I love you," I must be able to say, "I love in you everybody, I love through you the world, I love in you also myself.”

They love each other, and they love humanity too, even if it puts them at risk. To love, in a world of orders and oppositions, is dangerous, sometimes even lethal.

But they love anyway. From always.

“What does one person give to another? He gives of himself, of the most precious he has, he gives of his life. This does not necessarily mean that he sacrifices his life for the other—but that he gives him of that which is alive in him; he gives him of his joy, of his interest, of his understanding, of his knowledge, of his humor, of his sadness—of all expressions and manifestations of that which is alive in him. In thus giving of his life, he enriches the other person, he enhances the other's sense of aliveness by enhancing his own sense of aliveness. He does not give in order to receive; giving is in itself exquisite joy. But in giving he cannot help bringing something to life in the other person, and this which is brought to life reflects back to him.”

Here we have a crowd of exemples, when it comes to the sacrifice: Crowley saving Aziraphale from the Blitz, Aziraphale giving the Holy Water, knowing what it might mean... Moreover, every time they meet, every time they speak they risk their life.

And they are full of each other's life, having something that in many long-term marriages is only a dream: to know each other by heart, to carry the other always within oneself. In magic, books, sadness, anxiety, tone of voice, sarcasm, glances...

"He does not give in order to receive; giving is in itself exquisite joy.”

"But in giving he cannot help bringing something to life in the other person, and this which is brought to life reflects back to him."

“Mature love is union under the condition of preserving one’s integrity, one’s individuality. Love is an active power in man; a power which breaks through the walls which separate man from his fellow men, which unites him with others; love makes him overcome the sense of isolation and separateness, yet it permits him to be himself, to retain his integrity. In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two.”

Infantile love follows the principle: "I love because I am loved." Mature love follows the principle: "I am loved because I love." Immature love says: "I love you because I need you." Mature love says: "I need you because I love you."

My favourite one. The first line isn't given to our ineffable pair, but we can find its echo in Adam. He's truly loved by his family, and because of that love, he loves Tadfield and the familiar world around him: he chooses love too, he chooses not to be the Antichrist, giving up unimaginable power in order to protect everything he loves.

Mature love follows the principle: "I am loved because I love"

Immature love says: "I love you because I need you." Expressed e converso, in denial - by both of them

Mature love says: "I need you because I love you"

“Love is an activity, not a passive affect; it is a “standing in”, not a “falling for”.

“Love is possible only if two persons communicate with each other from the center of their existence, hence if each one of them experiences himself from the center of his existence. Only in this “central experience” is human reality, only here is aliveness, only here is the basis for love. Love, experienced thus, is a constant challenge; it is not a resting place, but a moving, growing, working together; even whether there is harmony or conflict, joy or sadness, is secondary to the fundamental fact that two people experience themselves from the essence of their existence, that they are one with each other by being one with themselves, rather than by fleeing from themselves. There is only one proof for the presence of love: the depth of the relationship, and the aliveness and strength in each person concerned; this is the fruit by which love is recognized.”

But they are not whole — not yet: neither is one with himself, they flee from themselves. Each admires the other’s best, loves his uniqueness, and silently wishes he could accept it too: yellow is pretty — Aziraphale longs for Crowley to show openly his demonic and beautiful eyes and spread their yellow everywhere, and with this, the beautiful soul he hides behind dark glasses; Crowley, in turn, treasures Aziraphale's gentle heart and softness — that set him apart from other angels — and wishes Aziraphale wouldn't feel guilty or less angelic because of these. This is what goodness truly is, not blind obedience to orders, even from God, but compassion.

Still, they are more complex than humans. Crowley can't fully accept himself because he didn't mean to fall, he never truly understood the reasons of his demonic condition and so he couldn't fully accept it — yet he can't return to being an angel either, because they are "just pretendy good", not "properly good". Now he's only himself, less brilliant than his angel, not fully demonic, but perhaps still too much a demon to believe he could ever be fully loved by an angel. As a demon, he also feels powerless to protect the angel he loves from both Heaven and Hell, which means he can’t fully live this love in the open. The same is true for Aziraphale, who thinks he's not enough for Crowley's love, and struggles to accept himself also because he's still tied to a toxic and abusive Heaven - that has traumatised him but, even more, has deeply hurt his demon. And he couldn't do anything to stop it. He represents Heaven, somehow, and fears Crowley can't love him fully for that (even though he's the one who Crowley still calls angel).

They don't accept themselves, so they can't love themselves - and as a result, both fear they are not enough for the other, that they are unworthy of being loved (beautifully explained in this post by @dalliancekay), and they suffer for fear of abandonment too. Aziraphale because everytime they argue Crowley walks away (then returns, but...), except in the Final15, and Crowley is shaped by his trauma: he has already been abandoned, betrayed and metaforically killed (his POV) by Someone who claimed to love him.

But no love for another can be complete without self-love. Without it, love becomes fearful and needy. A love like this may be unconditional, but it stops being free, turns a relationship into a lifeline, the first if not the sole reason to go on. And no one can love wholly or safely without first loving themselves.

Actually, neither of them wants to be what they were institutionally made to be; instead, they belong to their own side, defined by human morality and human love. And they can't accept being anything else. So, I hope they might become everything they long to be on Earth ("we've come to a decision"?), finally free from fear, guilt and pain, so that they can simply love openly, safely, in peace 💞

“To have faith requires courage, the ability to take a risk, the readiness even to accept pain and disappointment. (...) To be loved, and to love, need courage, the courage to judge certain values as of ultimate concern — and to take the jump and to stake everything on these values.”

[twstwizard]

Common Interests

Type: Scenerio, fluff, SFW, Romantic

Characters: Jade Leech; GN!Reader

AN: It came to me in a dream... Might be OOC

"Oi! Jadeee... Where are ya goin'? I ain't cleaning the floors myself." - Floyd groaned mop in hand, his lips forming a slight pout, the twin obviously unhappy with the prospect of cleaning up by himself, especially so late in the evening. "Floyd, I told you before hand, that I have important business to attend to." - Jade replied with his signature smile as he placed all his cleaning utensils back in the closet, dusting his gloved hands off.

"Eh? Going on your play dates with Shrimpy again?" - Floyd whined, his mood slowly shifting to a less pleasant one. It was no secret that after some time since the 'contract' fiasco Jade and the Prefect started spending more time together, yet no one could quite pin point what exactly the two were doing, not even his twin brother. - "Maybe I also out to visit Shrimpy... You're boring anyway." - the other Leech hummed, abandoning his mop and started walking out of the Mostro Lounge. "Now now, Floyd, if you abandon the task now, Azul will be displeased." - Jade hummed in turn, slightly rolling his eyes as his brother had his back to him. - "And besides, you do owe me a favor, remember?"

The other moray eel groaned, stopping halfway through the doors. Logically Floyd knew that he can just screw it all and walk away, but he absolutely hated being in dept to Jade of all people. With a loud groan he shut the doors he was about to exit and stomped his way back towards the forsaken mop and bucket, picking the first one up and grumbling under his breath begun to aggressively attack the floor, cleaning. Jade simply smiled at the display as per usual and swiftly made his exit, knowing that next time he'll have to find a different way to slip away into Ramshackle without neglecting his duties.

After successfully manipulating all his surroundings into finishing up his tasks for him and avoiding all of those preying questions Jade happily made it to the Hall of Mirrors and afterwards onto the main campus. The walk to Ramshackle wasn't eventful, the same pavement, the same bushes, all greeting him in their own way. And then finally he was at your from door, knocking a soft little tune that the two of you jokingly begun using with one another.

Upon opening the door you greet the young man warmly, expressing happiness upon him being able to make it, while letting him in. "The pleasure is all mine, Prefect. I could never skip our bonding time after all." - Jade smiled in turn taking his shoes off and hanging his coat and hat. You simply smile, sharing the sentiment, knowing the Leech twin by this point fairly well, understanding that any more honeyed words would simply lead to an awkward pause with him subconsciously trying to wrap you up into some kimd of capitalist scheme. He really doesn't mean to, or so he says, whenever that happens, but being friends with Azul does leave an imprint on people.

The familiar atmosphere settles between you two, no real words exchange aside from simple necessities and clarifying if the other is comfortable. When the two of you settle on an old couch and Grim is snoozing safely on your bed, you turn on the tv, which was successful blackmailed off of Crowley's persona by Azul, as a small compensation for emotional damage. It seems you were just in time for today's episode.

"Her arms were cut off, Her legs were cut off-" -The narrator started to explain another gruesome end of someone's life int the true crime series, while you begun to eat the popcorn Jade prepared for today's hang out. "My... The murderer sure had time on their hands, Fu-fu-fu.. "- the said eel merman remarked, sitting by your side. You shared the sentiment with Jade, offering him some popcorn too, asking if he had any theories as to who did it already. You leaned your head on his shoulder in a familiar motion, relaxing after a long day, his presence providing strange comfort, as the man leaned his head against your own in turn, telling you his theories on this episode.

It was nice to share your interests, especially if it was with someone who you really cared about and knew you wouldn't be judged.

[holylulusworld]

The inventor

Summary: You try to make the hunter’s life easier.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, grumpy Dean

A/N: I saw the idea with a hula-hoop on social media and had to turn it into a fic.

“I got a new idea!” You exclaim as you run inside the library. Since Dean and Sam saved you from a werewolf and took you in, you try to help them. You are their research buddy and their personal inventor.

“Not again,” Dean groans. He rolls his eyes as you carry your invention book, your laptop, and a plastic bag filled with God knows inside the library. “I try to drink in silence. Please don’t let anything explode again.”

“Oopsie!” You giggle. “Dean, that was an accident. It was your fault, though. You tickled me, and I dropped the liquid fire I invented.”

“You didn’t invent anything, Y/N!” Dean mutters under his breath. He wanted to celebrate another successful hunt with booze and watching porn. Now you are placing a construction plan in front of him. “What's this again?”

“A salt-filled hula-hoop ring! You know, like a salt ring, but you can carry it around because it’s inside a hula-hoop!” You excitedly tell Dean about your newest invention. “You can put it around a person and keep them safe from ghosts while you gank the monster. “Oh, it will work with demons too.”

Dean snorts. “I don’t think this will work. The hula-hoop will weaken the effect. We don’t put a box of salt in front of a person to protect them, either.”

“But—” You harrumph. Dean just had to ruin yet another idea to improve their hunting arsenal. “A box is not the same as a hula-hoop!”

“I won’t carry that thing around.” Dean points at the construction plan. “We will stick to salt rings.”

“Water—wind—spit. Anything can break a salt ring, but not my hula-hoop salt ring!” You won’t give up. “Maybe we can try it out on the next hunt! OR WAIT!!!” You gasp as the next idea floods your mind. “Let’s summon Crowley. We can check if he can break the salt ring!”

“No.” Dean cuts you off. “This is not handy, and just stupid!”

“Your face is stupid!” You grab your construction plan and storm out of the library, cursing Dean’s birth.

“SAMMY!” You’re panting while chasing after Sam. He tried to enter the library for research, and now you are hot on his heels. “What do you think about wearing silver rings on every finger to punch werewolves and ghouls in the face? I could make you some. Maybe secret compartment rings. I can put salt inside.”

“You want us to wear rings on every finger? We can’t do anything with rings on our fingers. What if we want to shoot a werewolf, and the huge secret compartment rings get in our way?”

You sigh. Damnit. You worked on the first ring for days and didn’t think about using a gun while wearing it. A fine inventor you are…

“How about car mats with a devil’s trap? This way, no demon can enter your car,” you proudly point at Baby stand in the garage. “That’s a good idea, right?”

“Uh—I hate to tell you so, but we already have a devil’s trap painted to the roof of the trunk. And trust me, no dirty demon will enter my car on my watch.”

You purse your lips. “Fine, let any demon sneak into your car, Winchester.” You storm off, cursing loudly as you decide to never help them again.

“DEAN! I got an idea!” You run inside the kitchen, a water gun in your hands. “LOOK! A water gun filled with holy water and some salt!” You grin proudly. This is it, the idea of the century. Even Dean must see this is the only way to defeat demons.

“Hmm…” He grumbles. Dean eyes the colorful water gun. He shakes his head and turns to walk out of the kitchen. “That looks like Barbie’s gun. I won’t use it.”

“I can spray it black,” you offer. “It will look cool. Dean! Wait!” You chase after Dean, determined to convince him to use the water gun from now on. “It will work!”

“Nope,” he shrugs when you tell him he’s a jerk. “I won’t use your toy gun. Just stop inventing shit.”

“One day, I will invent something to shrink your dick!” You yell after Dean, making him chuckle. “You’ll see Winchester. One day you will wake up and whimper, oh no, my dick is tiny, and I need a magnifying glass to find it!”

Dean laughs while walking toward the library. You follow him, telling the hunter how much better all your inventions would make his life.

“If you invent something to turn dust into a pie, I’m game.” He grins when you look at him with glassy eyes. Dean wants you to invent something.

“I’ll turn every dust mouse into the most delicious pie!” You exclaim before storming out of the library. “You’ll beg me to give you a slice.”

Dean watches you leave the library; he cocks a brow, wondering if you can turn dirt into a pie.

Tags in reblog.

[di-42]

Apology of Aziraphale

Like for many of us, Good Omens has been an almost constant thought since when I watched season 2. Like many of us, I'm heartbroken and I need to make sense of something that appears to be senseless. Why were we led to believe we were in a much safer, if, admittedly, slightly less eventful, place for the whole season only to have our hearts mauled and our precious, peaceful  fragile existences turned upside down in the last 10 minutes?

So, like many of us, I immersed myself in fanart, fanfiction, more characters analysis than I can count and different interpretation pieces to try and make sense of it all and attempt to make it to season 3 (or the promised book, if it all goes horribly wrong) with some of my sanity left.

Although I am sure there must be analysis that read the (in)famous last 10 minutes the way I do -because I CAN'T be the only one- I am yet to read any.

So, though I'm no writer, I thought someone had to play, well, the Angel's advocate.

For the sake of brevity, I'm not going to consider the coffee theory, the body swap theory, the theories that see the Metatron offer as a genuine offer or the theories that see Aziraphale as a power-hungry angel (I mean, COME ON!)

The theories I'm going to confute here are the Aziraphale-still-thinks-heaven-is-good-and-can-be-fixed theory, the Aziraphale-hasn't-recovered-from-his-religious-trauma theory, the Aziraphale-wants-to-do-the-right-thing-even-if-it-means-sacrificing-his-own-happiness theory and the Aziraphale-is-lying-to-keep-Crowley-safe theory.

I do wholeheartedly agree with the theory that has the Metatron make an either, direct or indirect threat to Crowley's very existence were Aziraphale not to go to heaven. I believe this would be the only possible explanation for Aziraphale's choice, only not in the way it's been talked about so far.

It would also explain the narrative device of us (the audience) be shown the conversation between Aziraphale and the Metatron only through Aziraphale's recount of it. Not that it needs an explanation other than "we wanted to do it like that and if you don't like it you're at liberty to go". But still.

 Aziraphale-still-thinks-heaven-is-good-and-can-be-fixed theory

Good Omens is a story about Faith. Aziraphale is an Angel of Faith. Aziraphale has nothing but Faith. Aziraphale's Faith is unshakable. Going by what we are shown in season 2, Aziraphale's Faith lies entirely in Crowley. "I knew you would come through for me. You always do". In season one we see that he's not quite there yet up until just before the almost Armageddon and in the scenes set in the past his reactions at Crowley coming to the rescue are more "I was hoping but not assuming" rather than plain, confident Faith.

But in season 2 we are shown a different Angel. Someone, in another post, suggested that the minisodes in season 2 are in fact Aziraphale's memories, so we see them from his present day POV. I don't know if it's the case but it would make much sense as we see that Faith, that blind trust in Crowley that Aziraphale acquires during/just after almostgeddon in those minisodes. The whole season is shouting at us "The Angel trusts the Demon with his life! The Angel trusts the Demon with the humans' lives! With children's lives! The Angel trusts the Demon with his secrets, the Angel trusts the Demon with his bookshop, the Angel trusts the Demon with his magic tricks! The Angel trusts the Demon completely, blindly, unquestionably."Are you sure, angel?" "Yes, quite sure"; "I'm getting the humans out of here and then I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own" "I know"; "I knew you would come through for me. You always do.".

Where does Heaven-is-good-and-can-be-fixed theory come into play in this? It doesn't. Aziraphale has all but forgotten heaven. He doesn't need it. It has been shown to Aziraphale, over and over, that heaven is not better than hell. Heaven is a distant, unpleasant memory of the past. It can be scary but it's certainly not where his Faith lies, certainly not something he sees as good, hasn't for a long time. Aziraphale is not a soldier of the army of Truth, Aziraphale is a heroic deserter of the army of Deception. "I've made my position quite clear". I believe we would be doing Aziraphale a great disservice if we quietly accepted that the Metatron's speech changed that quite clear position in a matter of minutes (or hours, or years, for that matters). If nothing else, I believe NG loves his and TP's child too much to set him back to a place where he thinks heaven is good and can be fixed.

So: Aziraphale thinks heaven is bad and can't be fixed.

Aziraphale-hasn't-recovered-from-his-religious-trauma theory

And thinks he can't love Crowley freely on Earth because that would be a sin. But he could love Crowley of a heavenly love were Crowley to become an Angel and that's why he let the Metatron convince him to return to heaven and take Crowley with him. He and Crowley can be together and be safe.

Have we watched the same series? Aziraphale is so ready! He's happily out on the other side waiting for Crowley to join him! I honestly think his arch regarding this is complete. He is a different character to the one we were introduced to at the beginning (and before the beginning, too), he's done the learning and the growing and HE. IS. READY.

Look at how comfortable he is when Crowley is around, look at his body language. Look at the way he looks at Crowley, well, always, but just to mention a few scenes: the apology dance, Crowley talking to Muriel about love; "smitten, I believe" and my favourite: the way Aziraphale looks at Crowley when Crowley mentions Alpha Centauri to Gabriel and Belzebub. Micheal-the-king-of-all-the-wild-acting-Sheen manages to makes his pupils dilate and tell us what Aziraphale is telling Crowley: "you are talking to me and I know you are talking to me. And I am ready. You just watch me pack my best waistcoats and we can be in Alpha Centauri tonight. I'll miracle an orchestra just so that you can invite me to dance and you'd better invite me to dance this time. I'll stare into your eyes for eternity and I'll kiss you and I'll love you like no one has ever loved before. And as soon as this lot is gone I'll tell you that because I. Am. So. Ready".

Aziraphale-wants-to-do-the-right-thing-even-if-it-means-sacrificing-his-own-happiness theory

Aziraphale senses that something is wrong and thinks that the only way to avoid disaster for humanity is an act of sabotage from the inside.

I believe this could be true to an extent (though I'm hoping to see something more dramatic that an act of sabotage) but I don't see it being the reason why he accepts the offer. It appears that Aziraphale learns about the Second Coming only after everything was said and done with Crowley and besides, didn't they manage to avoid Armageddon once before, the two of them together, from Earth? And if this was the reason he's accepting the offer, why hurt Crowley so badly? Aziraphale knows that Crowley won't go back to heaven, he knows that suggesting he be turned back into an Angel must be insulting, does he really believe this to be the best way to handle the situation? The Metatron might have been watching, someone will say but still, why hurt Crowley so much? He loves Crowley, he trusts him, did he really need to punch so low just to make him understand the gravity of the situation? It almost looked as he was deliberately trying to drive him away.

Which leads us to...

Aziraphale-is-lying-to-keep-Crowley-safe theory

This theory is the closest to what I believe happened in that it's based on the threat theory. The Metatron threatens Something Terrible will happen to Crowley unless Aziraphale goes back to heaven for good. Being erased from The Book Of Life comes to mind. That would of course be an ongoing, eternal threat to live under. Aziraphale can take Crowley to heaven as well, it doesn't really matter. If Crowley accepts, he will be reinstated as an angel so as not to cause too much trouble. If Crowley declines, it's just as well in the Metatron's eyes.

I'm not sure whether the Metatron really believes Aziraphale to be naive and easily manipulated or if he's having to make do with plan B given that (in my personal opinion) heaven doesn't actually have the Book Of Life and therefore can't take more drastic measures against Aziraphale and Crowley.

According to this theory, Aziraphale lies to Crowley as to what the real reason is of him accepting the offer. If he told the truth, Aziraphale knows Crowley will try and stop him,  will insist on running away together. Crowley won't care about the threat: the only way to keep Crowley safe is to hurt him, to break his heart.

Aziraphale knows that freedom is more important than safety for Crowley. Always going his own way, always asking questions.

Crowley WOULD tell the Metatron where to stick it.

Aziraphale knows that Crowley would always put freedom above safety. We have known Crowley for roughly 500 pages and 12 42-to-60 minute episodes and we know it, Aziraphale has known Crowley for over 6000 years, surely he must know too.

Except...

"I knew you would come through for me. You always do".

Crowley would always put freedom above his own safety.

"I knew you would come through for me. You always do".

But what would Crowley do once the penny dropped and he realised that he wouldn't be the only one in danger? That Aziraphale would be under threat too if he refused to go to heaven?

"I knew you would come through for me. You always do".

Crowley wouldn't allow any danger to come to Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows it only too well. Would Crowley just accept to part ways without the heartbreak, if he knew about the threat? If he knew this was the only real reason of Aziraphale "accepting" the offer? Would Crowley accept to part ways, knowing that Aziraphale is sacrificing everything? Knowing that Aziraphale would always be in danger anyway, no matter what? I believe Aziraphale thinks Crowley wouldn't just leave him. "I knew you would come through for me. You always do". 

I believe Aziraphale thinks, and I with him, that Crowley would hang his head low and follow Aziraphale to heaven, admitting defeat. 

I believe that over his dead, discorporated, erased from The Book Of Life body, would Aziraphale let that happen. Crowley, who gifted humanity with the ability to tell good from evil and the freedom to choose between the two, reduced to be an angel again at the mercy of heaven, deprived of free will. Aziraphale won't allow that. 

Aziraphale is not lying to keep Crowley safe. He's lying to keep Crowley free.

What Aziraphale will do is being the hero we always knew he was going to be. What Aziraphale will do is gifting Crowley the freedom he didn't know he was about to lose.

What Aziraphale will do is telling Crowley he's one of the bad guys but he can be turned good again and be second in command in heaven, nonetheless. The side of Truth, of Light. Aziraphale will listen to Crowley saying things that don't bear listening to right now and he will look at Crowley in the eye and tell him that nothing lasts forever. He will utter the words "I forgive you" after a kiss he has been longing for, for so long. He will break Crowley's heart and his own in the process but he'll make sure Crowley keeps his freedom, be that the last thing he does.

I believe that if we, the audience, had any doubt as to which side Aziraphale chooses, then we really weren't paying attention for the last 6000 years. 

I believe now it will be time for Crowley to complete his arch and do the growing and the learning. Wonderful, brave, generous, compassionate, wounded Crowley. He said "trust me", Crowley. He said "trust me".

But Angel, oh Angel. You, just like Crowley, mean so much to us. Oh, the magic of storytelling! You both really do mean so much to so many of us and we just want to take your hand and tell you that everything will be ok in the end. 

But there's sorrow on the way and pain and loneliness. And possibly another Armageddon to prevent.

But Angel, oh Angel. Don't lose your Faith. Ultimately, you do know it, do you not?

You know he will come through for you. He always does.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 25

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 7655

Warnings: Dean's "memories" from the night at the bar when he saw her again after leaving after graduation.

A/N: Well, here it is everyone, what Dean was going through over the course of the story. I hope it was worth the wait. Things will pick back up on 10/24 with Chapter 25 and you'll still get next Friday's up on the 25th with Chapter 26. <3

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 25

Dean’s heart skipped a beat, his body tensing, but Crowley seemed delighted. “Ah, wonderful. Show them in.” A few moments later, familiar faces flooded the dining hall—Sam, Ellen, Jodi, Bobby, Mary, and John. Dean stood, his eyes immediately scanning Y/N as Ellen moved quickly to her, pulling her into a tight embrace, both women in tears. Ellen’s voice trembled with a mix of sadness and relief as she reassured her niece.

Dean’s chest tightened as he watched the reunion, knowing just how much this moment meant to Y/N. She had needed this for months—the comfort and reassurance that only being around family could bring. Dean knew he hadn’t been enough to fill that void for her while the two of them had been in the bunker, but he had done what he could for her. 

Dean exchanged hugs with Sam. While Sam exchanged hugs with Benny, Dean embraced his parents, having missed them far more than he cared to admit. Even Jodi and Bobby shared hugs with the boys before turning their attention to Y/N, wrapping her in soft, relieved embraces.John’s voice broke the moment, softer than Dean had ever heard. “We’re here for ya, kid.”

Crowley, ever the perfect host, gestured to the empty seats. “Please, join us. There’s plenty of food, and we’ve much to discuss.”

As everyone settled back around the table, the atmosphere shifted. Dean felt it—the sense of a team coming together, united by a common enemy. It reminded him that even though Crowley was a lawyer, he was still just a man, a man who had to carefully tread that fine line of the law. He really was on their side, and he realized that with how his family interacted with the lawyer. They had gotten to Cali a day before Dean, Benny, and Y/N because they had flown out. So, they had already gotten to get to know him.

Just as Dean was about to relax further, feeling Y/N begin to relax as well, he felt her mark burn, that painful sizzle like it was his own skin on fire. He was already out of his seat and at her other side before the pained sound slipped past her lips.

Crowley snapped his fingers a couple of times, watching the scene unfold. He had already prepared for this, and the servant immediately left the room to retrieve the cream. Dean moved her dress a little, exposing her mark just as the servant returned, holding a tube of cream out for him. “It’s okay. I’m right here,” Dean murmured, applying the cream to her mark, his voice low and steady.

The room fell silent, all eyes on them as he tried to soothe her. He knew they all could see what he’d seen a couple of days ago, the last letter fully formed. Dean hadn’t had a chance to speak with any of them since they had gotten to the safe house. It had been one thing for him to state it in court during his testimony, but it was another for them to see that he had been telling the truth when he’d said it.

“Well, now, this changes things,” Crowley mused, leaning back in his chair with an air of amusement. “Why wasn’t I informed about that?” 

Dean shot a glare at Crowley, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He hadn’t had a chance, thanks to the FBI, but he couldn’t precisely say that at the moment. Y/N, clearly confused and in pain, looked at Crowley, her brows furrowing in frustration. “About what?” she managed, her voice laced with annoyance before Dean could open his mouth.

“With that,” Crowley began, gesturing toward her mark, “we’ve got a little more leverage.”

Dean’s heart sank. He knew what Crowley was implying, and he hated the fact that he still hadn’t told her everything. The guilt that he thought had been almost gone, hit him like a punch to the chest. He hadn’t even told her that the last letter had come in on her mark. He felt her frustration flare at the situation, at being left out.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, quite frustrated now.

Crowley chuckled lightly, a sound that grated on Dean’s nerves. “Dean, you haven’t told her yet?”Dean’s jaw clenched, heat rising in his chest as he shot another glare at Crowley. He was about to retaliate when Y/N spoke up, her voice sharp and demanding.  “Tell me what?” Her hands clenched tightly in her lap, mirroring the tension that filled the room.

“I was waiting,” Dean finally managed through gritted teeth, trying to suppress his irritation at the lawyer.

Y/N’s anger boiled over, and Dean could feel her frustration wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. “Will someone tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I’m tired of this, of all of you keeping secrets from me,” she snapped, looking around the table, searching for answers that no one could give her yet.

When silence followed her question, she stood up abruptly, anger radiating from her as she slammed the dining hall doors behind her.

Crowley sighed, the moment she left the room. He nodded to one of his servants—a young woman with kind eyes. She rushed after Y/N while Dean just watched, feeling guilty, angry, and upset. He wanted so desperately to run after her, tell her everything, but he couldn’t.

Dean, still fuming, stood up, “We agreed to tell her when her mark came in more.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, although he wasn’t pleased about his secrecy, “It slipped my mind. Besides, she has a right to know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t helping. How did she not notice one of the letters came in all the way?”

Dean sighed and sat back down, “She never looked in the mirror at it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to.”

“Son, she’s gonna be more hurt if you wait much longer,” John told him sincerely.

“Does she have at least an idea of how you’re connected to all this?” Crowley asked, although clearly frustrated, but needing further information.

“Not completely,” Dean reluctantly answered.

“Benny, did she even pay attention when Dean testified?” Sam asked, fairly puzzled how she wouldn’t have found out.

Benny sighed, “No. I was talkin’ to her. Tryin’ to help er’ relax a little.”

Crowley was usually a calm, collected man, but this frustrated him: "What does she know?”

Dean grabbed his beer, taking a sip before he answered, staring at the label, “I told her I know she’s my soul mate, part of the thing with Lisa, and that she’s an empath.”

“That’s it?” Bobby exclaimed in annoyance and frustration.

“That explains why she knows we’re hiding something,” Mary sighed, looking back at the closed dining hall doors.

“I didn’t want to make it harder on her,” Dean mumbled quietly.

“Dean, she has to be told, before her birthday, or it’s gonna hurt her more, and not just emotionally,” Sam told him, his tone soft but firm. “I know what I told you before, but she’s quickly running out of time.”

Dean’s attention went to the doors, his mind on only her and what she was feeling. He’d hated not telling, not letting himself get closer to her than she’d let him. He’d felt everything from the moment he’d seen her that first day at the bar, and it was tearing him up inside that she still doubted him. Sam had warned him of the risks of waiting too long, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time and he didn’t want to do it once they had gotten stuck in that bunker. “Dean, are you even listened?” Crowley asked him, frustrated and now leaning forward in his seat, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I wasn’t listening,” he grumbled.

An annoyed sound left Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Her birthday is in two days. Either you tell her tomorrow, or I’ll have to make sure the doctor is here.” His tone was of concern for her more than for Dean.

Dean looked down at his beer, “She’s gonna hate me, but… I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Son, she’s gonna be mad at all of us, but she’s not going to hate us, especially not you,” John tried to reassure him, feeling bad for what not only his son had to go through, but also what she had had to endure.

Dean tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment, then back to the label on his beer bottle. He could feel her emotions tormenting her, and her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Then, his gut knotted up, and he felt sick. “She saw her mark,” he groaned out, trying to keep the contents of his stomach from coming up. “She’s trying not to let herself believe that it’s my name trying to come in.”

Sam let out a long sigh. This had been his concern all along—that the unspoken truths would catch up to them—that her doubt could possibly cause Dean to go through a sort of rejection sickness. “Want me to go talk to her?” he offered, wondering if perhaps he could help.

“No. I need to be the one to tell her, but it would have been so much simpler if she had just heard what I said in court,” Dean muttered, his voice still tinged with the discomfort of his knotted stomach.

The silence stretched until Ellen’s voice broke it, “What is it she doesn’t know?”

With that, Dean looked up, meeting her gaze. There wasn’t much she didn’t know at this point. “She doesn’t know that it has to be her to let me in, to trust that I’m her soulmate, or she could end up in the hospital on her birthday when her mark does finally come in all on its own,” he answered as a frown found his lips at the thought of her in an induced coma due to the pain of the connection that would repair itself without her acceptance, thanks to the Vaughts.

“She also doesn’t know that she’s having premonitions or that if her mark comes in before she is supposed to marry Cole, it’ll nullify the contract,” Dean added quietly, as those were the two things that were supposed to wait until her mark had come in at least a little more—the things they were supposed to tell her together. “Or that if she has to go through with marrying Cole, it’ll be his name to show up on her instead of mine.”

It had been why he never pushed anything, never did anything more than she initiated, like cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. Or even holding her at night when she had nightmares so they would go away. Why, no matter how badly he wanted to, he had only kissed her the one time. She had to let herself believe, to hope, to love. For three months, he had waited. Waited for her to let him in. He had never crossed that invisible line she had drawn between them.

The others stayed for a little while, catching up with Dean and Benny while talking about the case together. Dean tried to enjoy seeing them again, but all he could think about was her, up in a room trying to figure it out on her own. His guilt was back in full force, like it was when he saw her that first night in the bar, eating at him from the inside. Benny tried to be there for him, but there was nothing his friend could say that would bring him any relief. Finding himself in one of Crowley’s sitting rooms, Dean sipped a whiskey when that familiar wave of emotion washed over him—loneliness. Her loneliness. Typically, back at the bunker, he’d go to her, hold her while she processed everything. Then, he would have done something silly to pull her out of her head. Right now, though, he couldn’t get out of his own head to give her the comfort he knew she deserved.

He’d allowed himself to relax in the last three months, even letting his guard down. But now, it was like reality was right back in his face. Right now, his thoughts were about how things were supposed to have gone after he got back. Dean took another sip of his whiskey, enjoying how the light burn reminded him of simpler times for now.

They were supposed to work together at the garage, get to know each other, and become friends. Then, all the adults were supposed to sit down with her, all the ones she trusted, along with John and Mary. They were going to tell her about things, their suspicions of the car accident being deliberate, the risk of telling her too much too soon and overwhelming her. Hell, even Sam had planned on flying back for that.Dean sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if somehow he could see her through the structure in her room. How did things get so complicated? He leaned forward a little, taking another sip. The stillness in the room kept his thoughts on how it should have gone while the weight of his guilt constricted against his chest.

He knew her now; she would have been eager to know everything, and he would have been there for her when it all hit her. And he knew it would have hit her hard, but she was a fighter, she was strong. She would have gone through anything to learn the truth, even back then. But now, they were in this mess, all because he couldn’t find the words to tell her what he needed to.

Her thoughts whispered through his mind, in pieces again. She’d kept her walls up, kept him at arm’s length, but her heart knew the truth, as did her soul. Dean had been grateful for at least that much. She was piecing things together like she did when it came to working on a car. The memory of watching her work pulled a small, almost unnoticeable smile to his lips.

Again, his gaze went to the ceiling, briefly, though, and with a sigh, he sank back into the couch. She’s questioning me, my actions, or lack thereof. “If only I could tell you, Sweetheart,” he whispered out to the empty room.

When he felt her finally fall asleep, without the threat of the nightmare, he went to his own room. He didn’t want to be around Crowley, and Benny knew he needed space. At least she was resting, and that gave him a slight reprieve from her whirlwind of emotions, like one of the weights had lifted off him. Now, it was just his own guilt.

Hours felt like days as they dragged on. He knew it was due to what he had to do, had to tell her. No matter how he worded it in his head or spoke it out loud, it just seemed so unfair. Hope had broken her so many times, and he had to ask her to trust him, trust that he was her soulmate, and let him in. She had to hope and believe. How could he ask her to believe in something that had caused her so much pain before? To let him in when hope had broken her so many times already?

After sunset, a servant knocked on Dean’s door, and then led him to a room that he hadn’t even noticed when they had come into the mansion of a house. It was a study, but it was also like a security room all wrapped into one. Bookshelves were along the walls, filled with books. There was a sitting couch, one of those fancy sort of ones off to the right of what looked like a very expensive desk. On the other side was a long desk with several monitors. It reminded Dean of the security room in Y/N’s bunker, but Dean didn’t smile, he looked back at Crowley, also ignoring everyone else in the room. Something was wrong, he could feel it.“What?” Dean snapped, harsher than he meant, arms crossed over his chest as he sized up the room and activity.

“We have a situation. It’s safer in here,” a man with a British accent responded to him, his focus on one of the monitors.

Dean’s heart pounded, his pulse quickened as he turned toward the door. Two men blocked his path, and he glared at them. “Move,” he growled, his hands at his sides, clenching into fists. He had to get to her, protect her like he promised he would.

“My men are handling it. They’re retrieving her,” Crowley frowned as he watched Dean.

“It’s not your job to protect her, it’s mine,” Dean shot back, stepping toward Crowley’s desk, the need to protect her was overwhelming.

Three of Crowley’s security team shifted, moving to block Dean’s path, but Crowley just raised a hand, locking eyes with Dean. “And who is going to protect you, hmm? You think she’s their only target. If they get you too, they’ll have all the leverage they need, and you’ll lose her, forever.” Crowley calmly told him, almost patronizing.

Dean froze, the memory of her nightmare flashing through his mind. His body remained tense, even though part of him knew Crowley was right. He wasn’t about to admit that, though. Silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional click from the men monitoring the security feeds. Then, a faint, eerie howling echoed in the distance before the quiet crept back in. Dean’s nerves were raw. He knew he had to get to her.

“Good, the hellhounds have found their target,” Crowley said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as Dean’s jaw clenched.

He hadn’t moved from where he had stopped, halfway between the door and Crowley’s desk. Then they hit him out of the blue—Y/N’s emotions—panic and fear, then concern for him. The force of them all staggered him, his body swaying a little as he took a breath, trying to stay upright. She was having another premonition. Damn it! He needed to get to her, but the how wasn’t coming to him with the suffocating cloud of her emotions mixed with his thoughts.A tug. Barely there, almost like a thread pulling at his chest. Even though it was so gentle, barely even there, it took his breath away. It was her, reaching out to him, but the walls she’d built around her heart were in the way. Her emotions poured into him like the waves of a tsunami. They nearly consumed him as she attempted to connect the bond between them without having chosen him. He felt like he was being pulled beneath the waves, down deep underwater, making it hard to breathe.

He fought to ground himself, though it felt nearly impossible without her there beside him. Her emotions and his concern for her safety muddied his focus. The sense of time seemed to disappear as any sounds were drowned out. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, sifting through everything that wasn’t his own, trying desperately to gain his bearings. 

Benny, leaning silently against one of the bookshelves, looked over a Dean. He saw the struggle his friend was currently wrestling with, even if he didn’t fully grasp the depth of it. Slowly, Dean’s gaze met his as the whirlwind calmed slightly, and Benny gave him a quick nod, a silent conversation letting his friend know that he’d help. A tiny, tight-lipped smirk formed at Benny’s gesture. He knew he could always count on him.

It happened in an instant, the two of them working together without having to speak a word. Benny moved first, distracting one of the guards, while Dean shoved the other aside, slipping through the door before anyone could react. Thank you, Benny. Words he didn’t have time to speak at the moment as he took in the silence of the dark mansion.

Dean took a slow, deep breath, centering himself amidst the storm of emotions that weren’t just his. She was looking for him, and he could feel her fear mixing with his own. He knew he needed to find her before someone else did. His steps were silent as he made his way toward the dining hall doors, glancing only briefly toward the window above the landing. She’s not in her room.

He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on her again. Her fear and worry were stronger now, tugging at him like it used to back at the bunker.

Kitchen.

Quickly but silently, he made his way through the dark dining hall, glancing out the windows as he passed them. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, making it far easier to see the tiny outlines of furniture and the doors on the far side of the table. Just as he opened one of them, he saw her, and the light outside the far kitchen window.

There was no easy way of getting her attention, and the last thing he needed was for her to scream and alert the intruders to their location. In one swift motion, he covered her mouth with one hand while wrapping the other around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.“Shhh, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he whispered softly as relief washed over him. She’s safe. As he lowered his hand from her mouth, she whipped around in his arms, wrapping hers tightly over his shoulders. “I was so worried something had happened to you,” she breathed out in a quiet whisper.

For a moment, he just held her, trying to calm them both down as he kept watch at the light of a flashlight outside the kitchen window. It moved with whoever was holding it. “It’s okay. Come on, it’s not safe here.”

He didn’t let go of her as he led her back through the mansion, his focus sharp. When they entered Crowley’s office, Dean closed the door with his foot so he didn’t have to let go of her. Dean focused on her, letting her presence ground him while he attempted to calm her. She’s safe. Those words repeated in Dean’s mind. Dean mostly just glared at Crowley, a warning for the man to keep his mouth shut about things he wasn’t ready to talk about. He should have known that it wouldn’t have worked, though, and he knew it.

“You knew they’d come after me?” she asked Crowley, quite confused, pulling Dean from his thoughts.“Love, he’s not just after you. He needs leverage, to make you comply. Figured you would have realized that already,” Crowley answered smoothly while shooting Dean a knowing look. “That whole family knows they only have so much time before you’re useless to them.”

Dean knew what was coming, even before she pulled away from him and looked up at him. Her eyes swam with confusion as his guilt gripped his chest. “What haven’t you told me?” She was blunt, almost confident, but Dean knew better. He felt her fear of what the answer could be. 

The pain of what the truth could do to her hit him first, and all he could do was look down at the floor. She needs to know. As if that thought was a switch, he hid his pain, then answered her. “If Cole marries you before your mark comes in, it won’t matter who your soulmate is, your mark will change to his name, because you’re an empath.” The words slipped out quietly, a confession he hadn’t wanted to tell her. As silence settled on the room, he wanted to take it back, wished he could, as he felt the weight of his confession sink in. A new piece to the puzzle she’d been slowly trying to put together. He knew she thought it was the last piece, but it wasn’t. He knew there was another question lingering in her mind, and he prayed she wouldn’t ask it, not now. 

“How do I make my mark come in all the way?” she’d spoken it, even though her voice trembled slightly. She’d pushed past all her fears and asked the one question he hadn’t found a way to answer. 

Believe I’m your soulmate. Hope that I’m telling you the truth. Trust that I really can feel you, that the name on my shoulder really is you and not some other Y/N.

God, even now, it sounded horrible in his head. His eyes were on the floor, but he wasn’t really looking at it. He reworded it so many times, and was doing that again as the moments stretched in the silence of the room. Dean couldn’t even hide the pain that accompanied his guilt the answer to her question brought to his soul. If only things had been different. It’s not fair. He’d been trying to find a way to tell her for the last three months, but still, nothing sounded right.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley stated impatiently, annoyed at Dean’s hesitation, again. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

Dean shot him a glare before he finally looked down at Y/N. Her eyes were so full of hope for an answer, while also just as terrified at what he might say. Somehow, though, he managed to take a deeper breath, even if it was shaky. She deserves the truth.

He hadn’t even been able to open his mouth before that damned Brit said the hellhounds had done their job. At the same time, though, Dean was thankful he didn’t have to give her an answer. 

Crowley took an annoyed breath, “Thank you, Ketch. You may all return to your rooms. The situation has been handled.”Y/N went to the door, slipping through it first. Dean let out a quiet sigh, feeling how heavy her emotions were weighing on her heart. The few servants who worked the night shift followed her, along with several guards, to return to their posts. Dean was about to follow them when Crowley spoke up.“Dean, your luck is going to run out eventually, and it’s only going to hurt her in the long run.” Crowley all but growled at him. His frustration and aggravation at Dean’s incompetence flared in his eyes. “You, Dean. You could have literally prevented all of this had you been competent in your task. One job. That was all you had, and you couldn’t even do that properly.”

“Crowley, it’s not that simple,”  Benny began, pushing off the bookshelf he had been leaning against, in an attempt to defend his friend, but Crowley shot him a glare, quickly silencing him.

“Had Dean told her the truth instead of playing house, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” Crowley snapped as he stood, still glaring at Dean.Dean flinched, but his anger bubbled beneath the surface, overshadowing his guilt at the moment. There were so many things he debated saying. Half of them just sounded like excuses and the other half just sounded like an argument of a petulant child. Dean ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath.

“You have until tomorrow evening, Dean, or I tell her.” Crowley’s tone wasn’t quite as loud, but Dean could still hear his annoyance. 

He knew it wasn’t that Crowley had any ill intentions. If that were the case, Crowley probably would have told her when they showed up at his mansion. “I told you, I’ll tell her tomorrow, after breakfast,” Dean stated, his eyes still on the lawyer for a moment before finally looking away.

Dean’s gaze went to the door where she’d gone. Then, panic coursed through his entire body, his heart pounding, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to think. Something was wrong. He’d gone from feeling her heartache to feeling absolutely nothing, like she was unconscious. Dean knew she was still alive, but this was something deeper than her just being asleep.

Crowley and Benny were hot on his heels, but when Dean reached her door and flung it open, he stopped breathing for a moment. Her room was empty, a breeze coming through the open window.

“Damn it!”Dean cursed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail, every shadow, every flicker of movement, searching for any sign of where she might have been taken or by whom. The sheets were rumpled, and a pillow lay on the floor, but other than that, the room looked untouched.

Crowley appeared behind him, his expression grim as he surveyed the room. “They were quick,” he muttered, moving to the window and looking out at the grounds. He knew he should have anticipated something like this; the other men on the grounds had only been a distraction to keep the hounds and his security occupied while the real threat made its move. 

“Sir, you’ll want to see this,” Ketch stated, now standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Dean tore his gaze away from the room and followed Ketch, a sense of dread settling in his stomach. He could feel his pulse racing, his hands trembling slightly as he walked down the hallway. Each step felt like an eternity, the air thick with tension and unspoken fears. He could still feel her, so he knew she was alive, but that wasn’t what he was worried about most.

The three followed Ketch back down to the main room, then to a side room where there were three other men, their faces illuminated by the glow of computer monitors. They were all watching the footage, their eyes glued to the screen as they went through the recordings. 

“I didn’t think he’d send his best, but I should have,” Ketch told them, pausing one of the recordings from outside her room.

On the screen, it wasn’t just one man; it was a strike team, led by Asmodeus, the Vaught family’s tactical security lead. Alastair was there too, with two others, Ramiel and Dagon. It was the best the Vaughts had. Dean’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of anger and fear. The precision with which they moved, the seamless coordination of their attack—it made his blood boil. His hands clenched into fists at his side, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

They’d come in through the window while she had been in the study, then hid in the shadows, waiting. The alarm linked to the window had never gone off. Once she sat down on her bed, Alastair approached her silently and, with a swift, practiced motion, injected something into her neck that knocked her out instantly. They then lifted her gently, as if handling a fragile doll, and slipped back out the window.

“Olivia has already been taken into custody and is being questioned,” Ketch informed Crowley, his tone cold and efficient. “I’ve also already sent out two security teams to retrieve your guests from earlier.”

“Good. Now, to make a phone call,” Crowley replied, his voice calm but tinged with a steel-like determination. He was pleased at how quickly his security team had gotten the job done. His next focus was to get his informant to find her before the end of the following day.

Crowley leaned back in his chair as he pulled out his phone, Dean’s eyes never leaving him. “I’m calling in that favor. Find her. Asmodeus’s team took her.” And with that, he hung up the phone. “Ketch, let me know the moment the others get here. They’ll want to know what is going on.”Dean couldn’t stay there in Crowley’s presence, knowing he was moments away from going off on the man. With his jaw clenched in frustration, he went to one of the studies, pouring himself a whiskey. It was only after ten, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, not with her having been kidnapped. 

Even after the others got there and offered their support, Dean couldn’t relax. Watching and hearing Ellen go off on Crowley brought him a small piece of relief. At least he wasn’t the only one who was pissed at the man. Crowley had brushed it off, not phased in the least by the woman’s angry words and threats. Ketch, on the other hand, eyed her suspiciously, having a feeling that she would actually do what she’d threatened.

After they’d been filled in, there wasn’t much to do except wait. That was hard on all of them. The tension, worry, and anger that filled the air of the study was thick. “You don’t think they’d try to do the wedding early, do you?” Jodi’s question and the broken silence pulled their attention to her. It was the same question running through all their minds. She had been the only one brave enough to speak it.

“I wouldn’t put anything past that family,” John answered, running a hand over his mouth as the tension grew.

Sam sighed, his gaze going from his brother to the floor for a moment. His brows furrowed as he gathered his thoughts. Sam was probably the only one at the moment who knew how good Crowley was. “I know none of you want to trust Crowley,” Sam began before looking back up at everyone in the study.

“He’ll get her back, before the Vaughts can force her into marrying him. I know none of you trust him. But I’ve spent the last several weeks with him. I’ve seen his track record. Please, even if you don’t trust Crowley, trust me,” Sam asked, an almost plea.

Dean had once again been trying to follow that thread that connected them, but he still couldn’t feel anything from her. To him, it was like a part of him was missing without her emotions there, mixing with his own. “I’ll try, Sam,” Dean whispered, his gaze on the floor as if somehow the answer on when she’d be found would appear there.

Hours passed like they were days for Dean, each minute seeming to stretch on like a never-ending nightmare. No one emotion was strong enough to feel over the other - anger, heartache, worry, and the lack of feeling her. They were all restless, but Dean didn’t find comfort in their presence or the light conversation anyone tried to make. His gaze was distant, lost in his thoughts of what she could possibly be going through.

He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed before he felt her again as the goosebumps prickled along his skin. Dean swallowed hard - she was afraid. The glass of whiskey in his hand began to shake slightly as his breathing became shallow. Far too many thoughts bombarded him all at once. 

Sam’s hand on his shoulder made him jump. “You okay?” he asked, worry and concerned in not only his tone, but also his features.

“She’s awake,” Dean whispered in return, desperately trying to calm his racing heart. 

Dean felt the pain that ached through her body, the panic that hit her hit him, and then there was how it was hard to breathe. Sam said something else, but Dean was so consumed by his connection to her that he hadn’t heard a word of it.

“Dean, is she okay?” Sam repeated, this time a little louder, causing Dean to meet his brother’s gaze.

Dean took a breath, shifting his body a little to shake some of the weight of what had hit him so he could focus again. She’s at least awake. “She’s afraid, but it’s different, like she’s alone.” he tried to explain, desperately tracing the strand of the connection she had put her walls up to keep at bay.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was better than if she was already being forced into a wedding ceremony. “Let me know if anything changes,” he told his brother, giving him one of those reassuring smiles as he gently squeezed his shoulder.

Again, the minutes stretched on as Dean focused on her. He felt every shift in her emotions. When she began worrying about him, a sad smile formed on his lips. I’m okay, Sweetheart, and I’ll be here when you’re brought back. Even though he knew she couldn’t hear his thoughts, he still hoped they would comfort her in a way. He felt her struggle, her determination which made him smile, and then, more worry. Dean updated Sam any time her emotions shifted  Dean loved how strong she was, despite how her life had gone. It was when slight relief washed through her that he finally let himself relax, after who knew how many hours every muscle in his body had been tense, waiting for the worst.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered, leaning back against the bar in the sitting room, letting out another breath as his shoulders slumped a little, relaxing, the tension easing.

Dean sipped his drink, glancing toward the door, often. I’m telling her everything when she gets here, even if she hates me afterward. He was done keeping it all from her, done letting his guilt overrule the things he needed to share with her. That burning sensation of her mark irritated his own, as it had done in the past. He knew she was thinking of him, both worrying but also trying to piece things together.

It was when another wave of relief washed over her, and through him that he stood and began making his way to the front door. Dean didn’t even realize how quickly he was moving. He needed to see her, feel her in his arms again, and let her presence ground the tornado of emotions coursing through him. He flung the doors open and, for a moment, stopped breathing when he saw her standing there only halfway up the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he didn’t even give her a chance to move as he pulled her into his arms, letting her soothe him in a way he knew she didn’t understand.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, fighting against the lump in his throat and the tears burning his eyes. 

When she said Meg’s name, Dean looked over at the woman. Could she be Cas’s soulmate? The guys had shared their soulmate’s names with each other years ago, when they’d come in. Then, on numerous nights, they would make jokes and push to mask that worry of possibly never finding them. If circumstances were different, Dean would have said something, even spoken with her. But not today, not now.

Most of everything after that was a blur for Dean as he focused solely on her. His guilt was eating at him again. She was hurt, and to him, it was his fault. He had told her he’d protect her, keep her safe, but he hadn’t. Dean had moments where he let himself relax, like when she would squeal, but his mind was on telling her everything, after he took care of her wounds.

He felt her watching him as he cleaned her cuts and scrapes. Dean knew the others were there, but everything around him had seemed to disappear, except for her. He felt her confusion, curiosity, and her desire for the missing pieces. He heard her whispered questions dancing around his mind. With her one, his jaw clenched. After I patch her up, I’ll tell her.

Dean knew he couldn’t convey everything, not the way he wanted to. It was a feeling that couldn’t be put into words. Love wasn’t even the right word, as it went so far beyond that for him, and that scared him, as did the possibility of her rejecting him. He couldn’t even hide his emotions anymore when she would ask him questions. God, he never felt more vulnerable in his life.

You shifted next to him, pulling him from his dreams. Dean’s eyes fluttered open as he inhaled deeply. He smiled as he looked down at you, still asleep in his arms. You were still there. He kissed your forehead, causing you to stir again.

“You’re safe, Sweetheart,” he whispered, his eyes taking in your features as you slowly began waking up.

It was warm, and you felt safe, content. As you opened your eyes, you smiled, seeing those beautiful green orbs lazily staring down at you, full of adoration and love. “Afternoon,” he told you, half asleep and still groggy.

“You slept too, good,” you chuckled sleepily as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Feeling his emotions was still something you couldn’t quite put into words, but it felt right, normal even. Lying in his arms felt like home, and it made the rest of the world and all the issues going on seem like they didn’t exist. 

“I always sleep when I get to hold you,” Dean replied, his voice still having that gruffness of just waking up.

You could have laid there all day with him, but your stomach had other ideas as it began to grumble, making both of you laugh a little. The lightheartedness of the moment only deepened when he reached down and cupped your cheek before giving you a tender kiss. 

I love you.

Neither of you were sure who’s thought it was, but it whispered through both your minds. Your breath hitched in your chest as both your hearts sped up, and your lips parted slightly after he pulled away. For a moment, all you could do was stare into his eyes, searching for something. But, before either of you could speak, a knock on the door and hearing it open made you both move so you could see who was intruding, reminding you both of reality.

“Lunch is served, and Crowley requests both of you to join him,” the butler stated, standing there with the door open.

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, which made you giggle a little. That made him smile as he leaned down toward your ear. “I get to help you put some pants on again,” he whispered before leaving a soft kiss on your neck, sending a shiver down your body.

“Tease,” you grumbled, but the smile on your face gave away that you weren’t upset at all.

“We’ll be down in a minute,” Dean told the butler so he’d go away for just a few more minutes of having you all to himself.

“Five minutes,” the butler replied, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Dean propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you, that mischievous smirk on his lips. “Five minutes…” he repeated in a rather suggestive manner, making you giggle, music to his ears.

He knew better, though, than to start something now. Dean wanted to love you, the way he’d been wanting to for months, and five minutes wasn’t enough time. “Alright, I’ll behave,” he sighed before throwing back the blankets and climbing over you, on purpose.

You bit your bottom lip and practically held your breath when he was on top of you, and your eyes met his. He even lingered for a moment longer than he needed to, mischief, love, and desire flickering in his eyes, matching the emotions that mixed with your own. It caused both your bodies to thrum for a moment before he finally got off the bed, and you could take a deep breath.

Using your elbows, you maneuvered yourself to the edge of the bed, remembering not to put weight on your wrists. He chuckled a little after grabbing your jeans, feeling you watching him, and trying not to focus on the images that played out in his mind, knowing they weren’t all his.

“You know, Sweetheart. I’m pretty sure you’re the bigger tease.” He told you, quite amused as he helped you into your jeans, teasingly slow again. He loved how your body responded to him and he hadn’t even really done anything.

“At least I’m keeping my hands to myself,” you quipped in return, sitting up.

Dean tapped the side of his head with his finger. “Your thoughts are quite… detailed,” he replied before licking his lips, wanting nothing more than to act on the things you were thinking.

A deep blush found your cheeks, and traveled down part of your neck as your body flushed. Thankfully, the butler opened the door, stating your five minutes was up, making the two of you laugh. Dean scooped you up into his arms again, carrying you down to the dining hall, following the butler. 

He had an idea of why the two of you had been ‘summoned,’ but he didn’t want to say anything. “We’ll face it together,” you told him softly, your head leaning against his chest, feeling his worry.

“That’s gonna take some getting used to,” he chuckled.

“What, me being able to read you like a book now?” you asked with a slightly teasing tone as you looked up at him.

Dean made the mistake of looking down at you, and god, the thoughts that went through his mind were downright sinful. He took a shaky breath, quickly looking away. “Yeah,” he replied, his breaths still a little shaky as he tried to shake the images from his mind.

The butler held the dining hall doors open, “I’ve retrieved them, Sir.”

“Oh, good. The lovebirds are finally awake, and clothed,” Crowley cooed from the far side of the hall, making most of the others roll their eyes. No one had left, which almost worried you.

Dean gave you a gentle squeeze, “Relax. I’ll be right there with you.” He whispered.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 26

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19

@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197

@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911

@megs-gadom @dianawinchester03 @nikimisery @cheekygirl2309 @ashleybutler

@deans-baby-momma

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[goodomenscalendar]

What is this? | Submit your own event or tag us! | Be sure to click through to the original post for the latest updates! Last edited: October 12th.

Ending Events

Good Omens Holiday Exchange | Prompt Claims close Oct 4th

The Good Omens Holiday Exchange has operated every holiday season since 2005, so by now it's something we consider a fandom institution-- and you could be a part of it this year! Sign-ups are closed, but you can still claim a prompt to fill for someone else! - @goexchange-mods - Claims List -

GOAD Fall Ball Kink Thrall | 18+ | Sign-ups close Oct 31st

Autumnal kink roulette split into two sections. One 'edge' event taking place over a month of writing or drawing. One 'heat' sprint style event weekly on the sub (over the posting period). Prompts sent out November 1st! - @goodomensafterdark - Reddit -

Good Omens Fairy Tale Bang | Posting continues!

This is a Good Omens Mini Bang themed entirely around Fairy Tales! Writing your own or adapting a favorite! All versions of all Fairy Tales and Mythology are welcome! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @fairytalegobang - AO3 Collection -

DIWS: Silver Screen Bang | Posting continues!

The Good Omens Silver Screen Bang brings writers and artists together to retell a movie through a Good Omens lens! AUs and fusions welcome! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @do-it-with-style-events - Twitter - AO3 Collection -

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Ongoing Events

Chill Omenstober | Runs all month!

A chill list of Good Omens themed October prompts filled with lots of break days. Feel free to use with any form of art! Good luck and have fun! - Prompt List -

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A month-long prompt list full of truly Ineffable kinks! This isn't a challenge, do as many or as few as you are inspired to! - Prompt List - Twitter - AO3 Collection -

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Whumptober is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like! - @whumptober - AO3 Collection -

Upcoming Events

Thwarting Wiles Zine: Vol 2 | 18+ | Applications open Oct 5th

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Ineffably Grey Zine | Pre-orders open Oct 18th

From the Grand Opening in 1898 to modern times, follow this Demon and his Angel on their adventures, and the routines that surely follow at a table for two for An Evening At the Ritz! All proceeds donated to The National Center for Transgender Equality. - @ineffablygrey - Twitter - Instagram - BigCartel -

The Ineffable Society: Langhorne, PA Meetup | October 19th

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Good Omens Spooky Bang | Posting begins Oct 28th

A spooky Good Omens bang to kick off the autumn season! Whether it's Aziraphale pumpkin-picking, a pumpkin spice latte coffee shop AU, or Hell hosting a Halloween bash, you're invited to the Spooky Bang! Featuring both SFW and NSFW content. - @spooky-bang-good-omens -

Ineffable Secret Angel Event | Sign-ups TBD

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On The Horizon

Keep an eye out for these works-in-progress in the coming months!

Good Omens Frames | @gomensframes Good Omens Monster Bangers Bang | @gomonsterbangersbang

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (11)

Yuu= He/Him cuz its people pov

The coffin did not contain a single person but instead two people, stuffed in together uncomfortably: a boy and a girl whose appearances mirrored each other as expected of twins.

Crowley did not know this when he first declared Grim and one of the twins to be two in one package students because one wandered off when this happened. Once united, the twins realized that if they admitted there was a third person, it would either be the other twin or Grim, who might not be able to go to NRC.

They had made the decision to fool everyone that there were only two beings instead of three living in the ramshackle dorm, just so that no one could separate them.

The twins became one person, exchanging places every day and making sure they detailed their day down to the specifics in case someone asked them.

Since they had different genders and personalities, naturally, their behavior didn't match up, so they tried to create another persona mixing some of their characteristics instead of creating a new one, which would be hard to play the role.

The way they moved was easy to mimic because they were twins who had done everything together, but sometimes it was easy to forget who they were supposed to be, leading to the image falling apart. So, the persona must have a certain gait made from a mix of them.

The same goes for the rest of their characteristics. They took the differences between them and mixed them into one. The soft-spoken girl and the hot-tempered boy became a person who was well-mannered but wouldn't be afraid to retaliate. The brain and the brawn combined to be a competent person.

This person was Yuu, a persona which the twins must become so that their secrets are safe.

It was hard to maintain this persona, but the twins got to rest some days when it wasn't their turn, and the paperwork dropped by Crowley was done much faster with two people. In addition, one could even go to school while the other did some errands outside of school. This meant easy money stockpile, although it dwindled slightly since there were three living beings now.

They were certain that their secret was safe, even though some had cast suspicious looks at them, but no one had ever spoken out loud about it, so that was fine.

However, being seen as something not entirely human did not crossed their minds.

-

Everyone thought Yuu was strange. Almost all who paid more attention would notice that there was something wrong with him.

Yuu's voice couldn't stay the same tone. It changed frequently and subtly. It would be low and high-pitched, like a normal male voice trying to sound a bit like a woman, and another would resemble a young boy trying to imitate a man's voice by deepening it.

They thought Yuu was messing with them or it was just his way of talking. Not that they fully believed it, but it was better to ignore things, you know?

Often, Yuu spoke politely, and then the next moment, he would send a glare or speak with a hardened tone to someone who managed to offend him in some way. People didn't really get scared at that, seeing as it was just a mild scolding.

Another day, he would do the same, but it was different. This one seemed forced when speaking softly, yet when he was mad, that's when it was the most genuine, and it scared most people.

Someone once caught Yuu looking at a mirror and practicing his expression.

The said person thought it was funny until Yuu said, "My facial muscles are too stiff. I can't get it right."

They all thought Yuu was similar to Floyd, but clearly, this was a different case.

And not to mention, Yuu's movements seemed calculated, as though he was scared of making a mistake. Sometimes they were too stiff, and other times there were too many sways or the steps were irregular, and so on. Some noticed that Yuu's eyes widened slightly before assuming a certain gait that the others had seen plenty of times.

"I almost forgot how to do this…" his murmurs could still be heard, and it made everyone break into cold sweats rapidly.

Some beastmen thought they smelled the scent of a female on Yuu, but the next day it was male. It was different every day, and sometimes it happened in a row. He confronted Yuu one day and was met with a blank face, and then a rather tight smile.

He did not get an answer, but the next few days, the scent of a male on Yuu continued, and Yuu's gaze bore into his soul with a vicious glare.

His mind had come to a conclusion that Yuu was not human.

Some say they witnessed Yuu's doppelganger in some random place before stumbling upon another Yuu, which frightened most people because Yuu denied having seen them, and he had an alibi with Grim.

Yuu's friends, the first-years, thought that Yuu and the ramshackle dorm were weird and creepy. Often, they would hear Yuu talking to himself or loud noises coming from a different room or sudden shuffling when they looked back.

Yuu had them all convinced to announce their presence before opening a room because of ghosts or something. Yuu would also cook plenty and then eat and leave one serving behind, telling them not to touch it.

Yuu would then leave the room and return after a couple of seconds to eat that one serving, much to everyone's confusion and surprise. After all, Yuu usually ate little, and sometimes the plate was full, but this time, there were two plates.

When asked, Yuu who devoured the food almost like a starving animal simply replied, "I'm hungry."

Seeing his everyday strange quirks, the meaning simply changed into something else.

[lauriegraham01]

rare is this love, keep it covered

pairing: crowley x angel!reader, gn!reader

summary: sneaking behind heaven and hells back, you and crowley reach the end of the road and he has to make a choice whether or not to let you in

tw: angst, fighting, religious themes, hurt/comfort, lotta hurt at first tho

wc: 1,615

a/n: inspiration stems from run by hozier

In the eons of Crowley's existence there had been very few times where they've felt true pain. Living through devastating natural and manmade disasters, the rise and fall of empires, famine, and death - none of those had left an impact on them quite like the your absence has made in their life.

You and Crowley's relationship could be described as corrupt in the eyes of Heaven and Hell if they knew the true nature of it. The truth was that the two of you had spent centuries pining over each other, but neither of you had acted on it in fear of punishment and bearing the wrath and hatred of some other mans belief. Despite this, you two managed. You knew where your relationship stood, and with this you came to love each other in secret, laws of Heaven and Hell neglected whenever you were in each other's embrace.

Life with the fallen angel was exhilarating, Crowley brought out a side of you that you never thought possible. Danger and mischief seemed to always lurk around the corner but you didn't mind because you knew you were safe as long as you were by Crowley's side. You rubbed off the demon as well, you amplified the gentle side that you knew was always there but they just kept hidden, locked away. You showed them what it felt like to be loved unconditionally and you brought a light into Crowley's life that they'd been searching for since the fall.

While embarking on adventures and loving each other through the monumental and the mundane- the highs were high, but the lows were abysmal. Crowley had their flaws, and you weren't perfect by any means. So whenever you would clash, it felt like the dread of an oncoming war. Pain and destruction would remain whenever you and Crowley were at your worst, and this time you felt that things were too broken, too devastated, too damned to mend.

It had been four months since you left Crowley's apartment in the middle of the night without so much as a note telling of your whereabouts. Crowley, still blinded by their anger brushed it off and assumed that you would return once you've cooled down. But days, turned into weeks, and months and after four months away without so much as a letter or a phone call from you, Crowley knew that the situation was graver than previously imagined. Their self-loathing was immensable, knowing that it was their actions and self-sabotaging that drove you away. It took another angelic intervention to be able to find their way back to you. Aziraphale was the only one who knew of your whereabouts and swore to not say a word of it to anyone - but when his demon friend came into his bookshop, bloodshot eyed and begging to know where you were, well he couldn't help himself.

That's where Crowley found themself now, on coastal roads in the south of France. Growing more impatient and anxious the closer they got to your address. You heard that precious Bentley from miles away before you even heard the knock on your door.

"Piss off!" You shouted bitterly from the other side of the door.

"How'd you bloody even know it was me?" Crowley said surprised that you immediately knew it was them.

"The only one who comes to visit is the mailman and he doesn't blast Queen!"

"Sounds like you need a better mailman," Crowley muttered to themself underneath their breath.

"Look would you just open the fucking d-" Crowley then heard the creaking of a gate opening and closing not too far off in the distance. Groaning in frustration, they march off behind the cottage you were staying at until they find the gate and is met with the sight of you trekking your way through the sands on the rather solitary beach.

Rushing to the shore to meet you, Crowley's met with the raging sea foaming with your loneliness.

"Save it Crowley, I don't want to hear whatever it is you have to say," you shout at them without sparing a look behind as you stomp your way to shoreline where the seafoam of the moving waves soaked your bare feet.

"Well that's not very nice of you, angel," Crowley quips back mockingly.

"You've used up all my niceties, Crowley. I have no more grace to offer you."

"Look love, i'm terribly sorry, okay? I'm sorry for the way we left things when you left. Now can we go home and get off of this fucking beach, you know how much I hate sand."

"No, Crowley." Finally facing them, your cold stare and unwavering tone catches Crowley off guard.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said no," you responded bitterly.

"Look y/n, I know how I am. I'm all ill tempered and hateful and push everyone away until they bugger off for good but for my sake y/n will you just please get in the car?"

"No, Crowley. You hurt me, okay? You don't get to come here and think an apology is going to fix what's shattered here. It doesn't work like that...not this time." As your voice trailed off at the end you stand up taller as you look Crowley in the eye.

Beats of silence pass between the two of you as Crowley tries to find the words to say. They knew it would be hard to be able to clean up the mess they've made, but your cold stare in your eyes made them uneasy in ways they've never felt. Here, you looked almost unrecognizable from the way Crowley's always know you since the dawn of creation. Eyes of wonder that looked into your ancient soul had always been a stark contrast to their hungry eyes carried by sneering menagerie. But now that light of wonder was windowed by pain, and at their hand. Crowley took note of the darkened sky above them and the distant thunder that rolled over the sea. Crowley could feel your anger and pain as you shifted the weather, winds growing stronger as you stood unmoving in front of them. Crowley felt crisp trepidation washing over them, a dread weighing down on them as it settled deep within their stomach.

"You knew what you were signing up for the day that we," flinging their hand between the two of you, "...became us. I told you from the very beginning that I'm too much, I'm scarred and torn beyond repair and I've built walls to protect myself and you from that pain, from that ugly shame."

"That never scared me and you know it, Crowley. I know who you were, who you've always been but you know that you don't have to suffer alone. It hurts me to see you carrying it all alone when I can help."

"S'not fair to you. You deserve better."

"I don't want better Crowley, I want you!" Lighting striking down as you exasperatedly shout back at them.

"I am somewhere outside your life, Crowley. I keep scratching but somehow I can't get in!"

Beneath your sky and punishing cold, Crowley knew that they couldn't live without you. That would be true Hell to them. With their serpent eyes never leaving yours, Crowley does something they haven't done since before the fall. Body slowing sinking down, they kneel before you. As the wind howls through their ginger locks, your breath hitches at the scene in front of you. Marveled at the sight of Crowley baring their onliness.

"My life is in your hands. It always has been."

Their hands creep up, knuckles turning white from clutching onto your side tightly as if with just a thought- in an instant you too would be washed away by the waves.

"In all of my eternity living-aimlessly walking through this earth, for once I see the truth in you. No one sees me but you. Forget Heaven and Hell, they're just words to me. I surrender my life to you, y/n."

The storm raging of ancient misery you've conjured slowly grows weaker as their words fully sink into your soul. You knew Crowley was good at heart, that they weren't inherently evil, but with them kneeling at your feet, their soul exposed and in your hands.

Sinking slowly into the ground you kneel in front of them, as you remain eye-leveled with Crowley you lift your hands to slowly caress their face and upon contact their eyes shut as a shudder escapes their lips. Feeling the dried tears that had fallen down their cheeks.

"Our sides may think that there is something wretched about this but I don't give a damn-I know there's something precious about this. Rare is this love Crowley, I need you to vow to keep it covered."

"With my wretched soul."

A small shudder of a chuckle leaves your lips and for the first time in a very long time, hope embeds itself into your heart with the promise of blossoming fully.

"Your wretched is my precious, my dear."

Crowley's lips curve into a small smile as their chest sinks, exhaling airs of tension they had bottled up.

With arms snaking their way around you even tighter, Crowley pulls you in as they crashes their lips onto yours. Desperate and all consuming, devouring each other other in attempts to make up for all the love lost and this new beginning you've found. With burning lungs you pull away and press your foreheads against theirs. Catching your breath you open your eyes to find Crowley's loving gaze already staring at you.

"Know that I love you, y/n," Crowley confesses hoarsely.

"I know," you say breathlessly. "I love you, Crowley."

[zayray030]

How would the teachers react to parents day where it’s revealed Ace’s auntie is coming.

For this prompt Ace’s wine aunt (Arca Tarot) is basically someone who knows the teachers dirty secrets as their senior,

For example Arca outing that Crewel used to have an emo/goth phase (Vil would most definitely cringe at that style)

Vargas used to be a twink,

Sam used to be that one annoying guy that follows the rules (now look at him now lol)

(nothing for Crowley or Trein because they were teachers before her)

So since girls can't got to NRC, there are always girls schools and I have a feeling that schools would get together for tournaments and the like and this is how she managed to get all her blackmail on the teachers

Crowley thanking the Lord that that Arca didn't go with him to school so his secrets are safe forever

However the rest aren't doing so great...

Crewel is trying his hardest to fix his image in Vil's eyes, meanwhile Idia is hero worshiping the man

Vargas has never been so ashamed. Azul, for once feels a sense of camaraderie between him and the man. Leona however is shocked at the blatant audacity Vargas had for kidnapping him for 'slacking off' meanwhile he looked like that. Ruggie and Riddle are slightly grateful because it means that there's still time for them to build up their muscle

Sam is incrsasing prices for ANYONE who brings up his high school days. Azul tried to bring it up and left having to almost sell 1/4 of mostro lounges property.

Trein is just happy that he was a nice teacher to her because one way or another she would have gotten blackmail on him.

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild - Whisked Off My Feet

Author: throwawayaccount_rdt on Reddit

CW/TW: First time, love confessions, Crowley is a virgin, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, Crowley has a vulva, Aziraphale has a penis, fluffness overload and fun miscommunications. Author enjoys sweet lovemaking and makes it everyone's problem.

Summary:

Aziraphale is reminded of his pandemic-acquired hobby of baking due to the upcoming Valentine’s Day holiday. And he knows just who he wants to be his Valentine. Safe to say, things do not go as planned as millennia-long secrets come to light.

Excerpt:

Valentine’s Day came, and Aziraphale enjoyed a cup of tea while he sorted through the Cooking section of the bookshop. After having watched too many reruns of The Great British Bake-Off while sulking, he was struck by an idea.

Crowley had never tasted Aziraphale’s baking. This was mostly because he didn’t really have a habit of baking, besides a one-week frenzy during the pandemic after he had given up on knitting and caught up on his reading. His attempt at a sweater had ended up coming out like a scarf, and he couldn’t even eat it afterwards.

This was a much more enjoyable endeavor, and he even had the opportunity to share his baked goods with three friendly teenagers from the neighborhood who came to visit him one night, apparently looking for the cash box (what for, Aziraphale couldn’t say. The ancient thing hadn’t seen as much as a penny since the 1940’s). Though he had to inform them social distance was still to be maintained, he was happy to send them home with Tupperware full to the brim with cake.

And he was an angel, for God’s sake, of course he enjoyed doing nice things for others, and he cared about his friends. And if he happened to bake a heart-shaped cake on a particular holiday to gift to his best friend, it was purely coincidental, really.

...

“You got a card… for me.”

“I thought that much was obvious,” Crowley mumbled.

“Why?” Aziraphale looked intently at the nape of his neck, wishing that the demon would turn around and face him more than anything. He needed to see him.

“Because – I thought – fuck, angel. Because I wanted you to have a nice bloody Valentine’s Day,” he gulped, “with me.”

“With you,” he repeated, plainly.

Crowley turned back to face him. He had forgotten to put his glasses back on, and Aziraphale could have sworn the demon looked almost vulnerable.

“No need to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s a bad thing for me to want.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what, Aziraphale?” Crowley breathed deep, mentally counting down from ten to calm himself down. It was one thing to love your best friend unrequitedly, and another different one to be outright rejected.

“Want?” Aziraphale nearly squeaked. He straightened himself to try again, “want me?”

Continue reading on Ao3

[ivory--raven]

Femslash omens day 15, haunting. Michael (and Dagon) at Crowley's trial.

Destruction is destruction. For angels and demons. Discorporation is one thing, being temporarily bodiless is fixable, but destruction is permanent. Ligur has been destroyed.

Michael finds out through official channels, for once. She has a string of texts from Dagon, all saying this is important, once everything has settled down there’s something you need to know, I’m okay, which is ominous but she barely has the chance to glance at the messages, let alone think about them or talk to Dagon, because Armageddon has been cancelled. There are ten thousand angels Gabriel just told to stand down, and someone has to do something with them while they wait to complain. For once she doesn’t envy him his job. He’s been in talks with The Metatron about it, being chastised - how could he have let this happen? - and it seems like every angel has a personal complaint to bring up with him.

It’s while Gabriel is having a five minute reprieve, hiding from the constant criticism, that the official Hell line goes active. He picks up the phone.

“Archangel Gabriel,” he says. “Yes… I see. We can send someone.”

“Not them complaining as well,” she says, because annoying as he may be she doesn’t hate him, but he shakes his head.

“They need to carry out an execution.”

“A proper one?”

He nods. “They need holy water for the demon Crowley.”

“Because of his role in..?”

“The charge is destroying another demon. Duke Ligur.”

No. “Duke Ligur has been…”

“Destroyed, yes,” says Gabriel. “Hell needs Holy Water to destroy his destroyer. Just, isn’t it?”

Ligur. Destroyed.

Ligur. He’d been a friend, she thinks, something of a friend to her. Destroyed.

“An eye for an eye,” she says, and then before she can think better of it, “I’ll go.”

“You’ll go into Hell? You don’t have to do this, Michael, it’s nasty down there.”

“You’ve never been!” she retorts.

He squares his jaw. “Neither have you.” And she hasn’t, officially, so she has to give him that.

“I ought to, keep an eye on that Holy Water. We can’t send just anyone.” She’s making this up. She has to be the one to take revenge.

“You’re right,” says Gabriel. “You’ll go.”

She will avenge Ligur’s destruction. Ligur, Ligur didn’t deserve to be destroyed like this. Ligur was a friend. He had a life, a husband. How could he have been destroyed like this, to stop the Armageddon they were supposed to have?

A demon destroyed is a demon no longer existing, but at least no longer existing means they once did. Ligur did exist, once. If she avenges him, if she keeps him in mind, that will be a better fate than being forgotten. A better fate than being erased. Ligur will have existed. He will have mattered.

He haunts her when she takes the pitcher and fills it with the holiest Holy Water Heaven has. She knows this is the murder weapon, she knows it is inherent to her nature to create, to live with it. He should be haunting her. The universe has a void now, whispering Ligur was here, Ligur was here. 

He haunts her as she steps into the lift, presses the dingy Hell button, goes down, down, down. He haunts her through the long corridors he once showed her through. She remembers him as kind. As knowing, surely he knew, and keeping her secret. Keeping Dagon safe.

Dagon - Dagon doesn’t know. That's what she forgot to do. Tell her she was coming down here, and with this deadly weapon.

She sees her when she enters the room they have set up for the trial, at Beelzebub’s right hand, in her element. She looks unsettled, her world off kilter slightly and she can’t fix it. There’s something like shock in her eyes when she sees Michael, and as soon as it appears it’s gone, replaced with apprehension.

Is Dagon really afraid of her? Micheal hopes she’s not. She would never hurt her.

Even if it was necessary in battle? She wonders, but she knows the answer. She wouldn’t, and that’s been true a long time.

Her eyes are fixed on Dagon. I wouldn’t hurt you, she wants to reassure her, I love you. She can’t. All she can do is watch her.

“The Archangel Michael,” says Crowley. “That’s… unlikely.”

“Cooperation with our old enemies,” says Dagon, smirking with teeth, eyes sliding past Crowley to Michael.

“Well, wankwings, you brought the stuff?” asks Hastur.

“I did,” says Michael. “I’ll be back to collect it.” She holds it out to him. Ligur was his husband, he should be the one exacting revenge with his own hands.

He shifts back. “No, I think perhaps you should do the honours,” he stammers. “It’s… I’ve seen what that stuff can do.”

Of course. Of course he doesn’t want to touch the very substance that killed Ligur. 

She pours the Holy Water into the bathtub they have set up - it’s so out of place, but what else could they use? She looks at Dagon again, sitting on her chair at Beelzebub’s right hand, and hopes she knows she’d never hurt her. The water keeps on pouring.

Dagon looks away, smirk twisting into something guiltier. She hasn’t done anything wrong, Michael reminds herself - it’s not as though Dagon prevented Armageddon.

The water stops.

“That’s Holy Water,” says Crowley.

“The Holiest, yes,” confirms Michael.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Michael, but of course we don’t trust you,” says Beelzebub, leaning to the side on their throne, “Hastur, test it,” and Hastur (Ligur’s husband, he deserves this trial more than anyone) tosses a small round demon in the water where he dissolves, his protests dying alongside him. Destroyed. Gone forever. That’s what happened to Ligur - what Crowley did to Ligur. The water is murky. Destruction is better than being erased, destruction leaves a trace. Michael cleans it up. Once she has, she retreats into the hallway - no reason to take up space, to distract from the spectacle of his destruction.

The traitor Crowley maneuvers himself into the tub so that his feet stay dry. It’s odd, the slinky way he moves his body, like his bones aren’t all there. He was the Serpent, she supposes. There’s something else odd about him - he’s almost familiar, almost angelic.

She comes back a few minutes later, expecting scummy water, announcing “I came to bring back the-”

She has to cut herself off. Dagon looks unnerved and afraid, Hastur is angry, and Beelzebub is on their feet in front of the bathtub.

The bathtub in which the demon Crowley lies, completely unharmed.

“Michael! Dude! Do us a quick miracle, will you, I need a bath towel.” And he stretches out a glistening hand.

Stunned, she does, summoning a white towel and passing it to him. What can she do? He should be gone. Dissolved. Destroyed. Nothing more than damp muck left behind. 

“I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don’t you?” he says, as if a traitor like him is in any position to make demands - and he is, because if Holy Water can’t kill him nothing can. He is the most powerful being in the room and he knows it. Beelzebub nods their agreement, and then so do Hastur and Dagon. He looks at her, and Michael nods too. “Right.”

The trip back up to Heaven is as quick as the trip down, but it seems to drag on, the Holy Water heavy in her grasp. They have a demon who is immune. Is he even a demon anymore? The world can’t be the same as it was before. A world where demons cannot be punished for using Heaven’s own weapon. The memory of Ligur hangs over her, haunts her. He is unavenged. Destroyed by an undestroyable demon.

Destruction is no longer simple.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Yuu can do it!

Part 60

First - Previous - Masterlist - Next

Ito hummed to themself as they prepped dinner.

Kuroki had finished chopping mushrooms and spinach for them, and apparently needed something to do while he waited for it all to cook. This took the form of fighting Enma with an empty paper towel tube. Enma was weaponless, but honestly that just helped make things more fair.

Ito ducked under a stray ‘blow’, popping a mushroom into their mouth to decide whether it was done. Decided that it was. They carefully scraped them into a nearby bowl. Jack hated the texture of mushrooms, for some reason, so they had to keep those separate…

A delicate cough met their ears, and the three Yuus glanced up. Ace was leaning in the doorframe, his eyes flicking over the three of them, his lips pursed into a thin line.

Enma snatched the paper towel tube from Kuroki and broke it over Kuroki’s head. Kuroki gasped, more offended that his weapon of choice had been destroyed than genuinely wounded.

And then he turned his attention back to Ace.

“Food’s not ready yet,” Kuroki said.

“I know,” Ace said, glancing behind himself, into the living room, where Deuce, Jack, and Grim had been banished. He pulled the door closed, and Ito grimaced at the sound of a lock clicking into place. The wind in the room picked up – which was strange, because there shouldn’t be wind inside at all. “I just… needed to talk to you guys about something.”

Ito turned off the stove, and then leaned their arms on the countertop, smiling. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“What’s… wrong with you guys?” Ace asked, looking between them all with narrowed eyes.

The Yuus glanced at each other, briefly.

“Take a guess!” Enma decided.

“... I have three theories. Honestly, they're all a little far-fetched, but you’re very obviously not telling the truth about yourselves, so…”

“Is one of the theories that we’re spies?” Kuroki asked.

“Yes,” Ace admitted.

They struggled to maintain straight faces. Not because they were spies, as Ace apparently suspected, but because it had happened again.

“But I doubt it,” Ace added. “It would make some things make sense, but everything else…”

“You said we were ‘obviously’ lying,” Ito said. “Where’s your evidence?”

Ace began counting off on his fingers: “You switch between claiming to all be from the same place and claiming to have met when the school year started. You lack a lot of basic knowledge about the world. You constantly make jokes and references that no one understands. Ito speaks a language I’ve never heard before. Enma infodumps about things that don’t even exist. Kuroki can touch the ghosts like a freak –.”

“We all can?” Ito said.

(They wouldn’t have bothered with trying to touch a ghost if Enma hadn’t asked them to, but if it made him happy they supposed they could spend a few seconds as a guinea pig from time to time.)

Ace pointed at them. “Exactly! What’s wrong with you?!”

There was a beat of awkward silence. The Yuus looked between themselves, considering what to say. Ace had clearly been collecting information for a while. If pressed, Ito was pretty sure that he had far more evidence about things that didn't quite line up about them.

Ace had, politely, left out any mention of their argument from a few days ago.

He had a mountain of proof at his disposal.

Which meant…

Kuroki grimaced. “I mean, so long as you’re not, like, a government op…”

Ace snorted. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Ito raised an eyebrow, and then remembered Ace wasn’t a faerie like Crowley. If he wanted to deceive someone, he wouldn’t have to rely on careful wording, he could just lie.

And, if Ace was deceiving them, then Ito supposed they could live with being picked apart by the government. Maybe they would accidentally figure out how to get them home between all the torture and dehumanization.

“We’re from another world,” Ito said.

Ace nodded, slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought was going on…”

Enma leaned forward, curiously. “I thought you had another theory, too?”

Ace flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, thanks to the whole ‘Kuroki can touch ghosts’ thing I was starting to think – uh – maybe you guys were ghosts, too?”

Ito’s blood ran cold.

Their lips pursed into a small, concerned frown. They exchanged a worried glance with Enma, and then the two of them looked at Kuroki. Who was suddenly far more pale than he’d been just a moment before.

Ito reached over, gently poking Kuroki’s shoulder. Kuroki flinched away, his eyes falling to the floor.

Ace continued on, unaware: “And I was thinking… ghosts don’t remember their pasts, you know? So, that would explain why you didn’t know anything about the world.”

(Well, that might explain why the nametags on the ghosts’ uniforms were devoid of names – they didn’t know their names, either.)

Ito spared Kuroki one last look, before smiling at Ace. “I’m kinda offended by that, y’know. We don’t exactly look like ghosts, now, do we?”

Ace cleared his throat, awkwardly. “I mean. It was a theory. You don’t gotta rub it in… not all of my theories could be right, and one of them was, so I’m gonna take the win.”

“You don’t know that,” Ito said. “We could be undead spies from another world.”

“Ah, yes, how could I be so blind?” Ace deadpanned.

“And here I was thinking we hid everything so well…” Enma groaned.

Ace gave him an incredulous look. “Guys. You haven’t been subtle at all. Like, I get that you’re all used to talking about it freely when at Ramshackle, but you slip up a lot in front of other people because of it. I mean, if it wasn’t such a – a – an insane thought, I’m pretty sure everyone would know by now.”

Ito and Enma both winced.

Kuroki had stuffed shaking hands into his pockets.

Absently, Ito tugged on one of their earrings, smiling. “So, now that you know, are you still mad that we're here?”

Ace blinked. “Hm?”

“You’ve brought up us ‘getting into this school without qualifying for it at all’ too many times for me to think it was just a coincidence,” Ito said, shrugging.

Ace grimaced. “Ah. I didn’t… think you knew that. I’m…”

Ace petered off without saying sorry.

“Don’t worry, you can help make up for it,” Ito said.

Ace looked appropriately wary. “What do you want?”

“Well, as you have so kindly pointed out, you have magic and we don’t,” Ito said, looking up at him through their lashes. “And, if we’re going to get home, then we might need your help.”

Kuroki jolted back to awareness. Good.

Enma’s eyes were trying to bore a hole through the side of their head. Less good.

They kept their eyes on Ace.

Ace looked… reluctant. But, slowly, he gave in, nodding. “If… if that’s really what you want, then… I don’t know how much I can help, but I’ll check some things out for you.”

Enma gave them a wide-eyed, betrayed look. Ito didn’t think they deserved it. They could have kept it a secret – done all of this in private. Hell, they had considered it a few times over the past few days, when Ace’s eyes had lingered on the three of them for just a moment too long after their argument, when he had questioned the little slip Enma made when asking about the coral reefs here.

But Ito hadn’t kept quiet about it. They’d given him fair warning.

If anything, they were being too kind to him, but fine. If he didn’t appreciate their efforts, then they would be happy to go back into working on a way out from the shadows. Surely, he’d be happier when they randomly came up to him in a few months with a way home.

After all, they’d promised to not have any hard feelings, right?

“But!” Ace said, dragging their attention back to him. “You’re – you’re all here right now, right? So, why not enjoy it? Break starts tomorrow, so… let’s just have fun, yeah?”

Ito lifted their hands in a shrug. “Sure. I need to meet your family.”

Kuroki nodded along. “It’ll help us understand why you’re so…”

“Like that,” Enma said, as polite as a person can be while also actively insulting someone.

To their surprise, though, Ace looked relieved. “You guys really are back in sync. Thank fuck.”

“What, did you think we were lying about it?” Kuroki asked, bemused.

“I wouldn’t put it past you guys.”

That was fair.

The Yuus were still going to complain, though.

Not that Ace seemed all that intent on listening to their totally real and genuine complaints. The wind in the room died down, and Ace opened the door to the living room once again, poking his head out to tell their friends the good news: “Guys, we don’t have to do Operation: Divorcees.”

There was a collective cheer from their friends.

The Yuus, however, were just confused.

“Operation: Divorcees?” Enma echoed.

“Yeah! If you weren't back to normal by the time break rolled around, we decided we were going to fix it ourselves. I was going to take Ito, Deuce was going to take Kuroki, and Jack was going to take Enma, and we were going to hope that ‘distance would make the heart grow fonder’ or whatever. Hopefully, after two weeks apart, your codependent asses would completely forget you were mad at each other and make up the second you saw each other again.”

Deuce and Jack were nodding along sagely.

“Who was going to take me?” Grim asked, raising a paw.

“We were going to draw lots,” Jack said.

Grim’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Because all of you wanted me to come with you, right?”

“Yyyyyyyeeees,” said Deuce, in a tone that suggested perhaps the loser was the one who would have to deal with Grim.

Grim’s mouth dropped open in offense.

Ito was quick to walk over and scoop up the monster before he could attack someone. And then, when Grim looked like he might attack them, they started scratching him behind the ears.

“What would you have done if we didn’t make up?” Enma asked, perhaps to distract Grim further.

(Deuce sent them both a grateful smile.)

“Then we would have started Operation: Parent Trap,” Jack said.

“... parent trap?” Ito murmured, their mind going to a board game they’d played once with their siblings where you were supposed to drop a cage onto your competitors to win. They did not want a cage dropped on them. That sounded like it would suck.

Deuce lit up, jumping to his feet. “Okay, so it’s this movie where these two twins meet up at –.”

~

In the middle of Deuce’s explanation of the identity reveal of the twins, something thudded against the window, and Ito turned to see Crowley holding his head, scowling at the glass as if it had personally offended him.

It probably had.

Their lips threatened to curl into a grin. Crowley really was a bird, it seemed, inability to see glass and all. Laughing was entirely too tempting, even if it would set back a good chunk of the progress they had made with the man.

They managed to keep a relatively straight face, walking over and pulling the window open, offering him a hand to help him crawl inside. “We have a door, you know.”

Crowley shrugged, dusting off his clothes – they weren’t the fancy suit and tie Ito had gotten used to, but instead what looked to be the most Tourist-Dad outfit they had ever seen. Probably because he was planning to spend the break on a tropical island. He must be excited, if he was dressed to leave a day early.

A hand rested on their shoulder. Ito glanced at it, and then decided to let it stay.

He smiled, turning to the room at large. “I would like to talk to –.”

Jack, Deuce, and Grim all abandoned ship before the Headmaster had even finished asking them to leave.

(Or, at least, they were pretending to leave, the walls of Ramshackle Dorm weren’t exactly thick. Disappearing into the next room would allow them to both listen in and have plausible deniability, which was exactly the way their friends liked it.)

… Ace, however, was still there.

“Trappola-san, if you could give the three of us a moment to talk, that would be great.”

Ace smiled coldly.

Oh, great, another one of their friends hated the Headmaster. Ito sighed.

Crowley cleared his throat, awkwardly, when Ace decidedly did not leave, apparently deciding that it wasn’t worth it to force him out. He looked down at Ito.

“Now,” he said. “We will be going on vacat – excuse me, investigating how to get you home in a far off land, and I needed to make sure that you were all packed for tomorrow.”

“We?” repeated Ito, a little confused. They had booked Crowley’s hotel, his restaurant reservations, which rental car he’d be using… none of that had suggested that he would be taking anyone with him.

(Except for the rental car, perhaps. The mental image of Dire Crowley in a car just… could not be created, it seemed. It was too strange.)

Crowley smiled at them. “Of course!”

“No,” snapped Kuroki. “We already have plans.”

Ito figured that Kuroki would have said no regardless of whether or not they had plans, but politely opted to keep that thought to themself.

They glanced at Enma. Who was also glaring at the Headmaster. Jesus Christ. This man was not winning any of Ito’s friends over, was he?

Enma managed to school his expression into something more polite, though, as he shook his head. “No thank you, sir.”

They supposed that decided it – they weren’t going to investigate with the Headmaster. Ito was pretty neutral overall. Despite Enma’s fears that they might actually figure something out, Ito knew Crowley’s itinerary, and it didn’t leave much time for investigation. Unless he believed that swimming with the sea turtles would find them a way home, in which case Ito had more faith in Ace being able to help them. And they really doubted Ace would be of much help anytime soon, so that was really saying something.

In the end, they simply shrugged to show their indifference. “Sorry, Crowley, I don’t think we’re going.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked out for just a second, and then his shoulders slumped. “I suppose it’s for the best…”

Ito’s eyes narrowed. They didn’t like the sound of that sentence, for some reason.

“I suppose someone will have to stay behind to tend to the fire faeries around the school.”

It was silent for a solid minute as the teens took in the new information.

And then they all, for lack of a better word, blew up on the Headmaster.

Ito pinched the bridge of their nose, sighing.

No wonder none of their friends liked the man.

"You can't just – keep us here!" Kuroki said, throwing up his hands in frustration.

Crowley rested a hand on his hip. "I will not require you or Yuuken-san to stay."

"Man," Enma said, his forehead pressing against the counter, seeking comfort from the unforgiving, unfeeling wood. It didn't seem to be working out for him. "This sucks. I was so looking forward to checking out the Queendom..."

"I do not believe that they are listening to me," Crowley remarked.

Ito was not either. They had gone back to cooking dinner.

~

Ito hummed to themself as they portioned out everyone’s meals, listening idly to their friends' argument with the Headmaster. Jack, Deuce, and Grim had immediately come out of hiding to join in on dogpiling the man. Of course, Jack, Deuce, and Enma were trying to air their grievances in a ‘polite’ way, by carefully pointing out the hypocrisy of allowing Ito to go on a trip with Crowley but not with anyone else. Kuroki, Ace, and Grim were being… less polite.

“– just because you’re a petty bitch doesn’t mean that you can do whatever you want!”

The Headmaster was persistently pulling on Ito’s sleeve, trying to annoy them into helping him. Ito was getting a headache from all of the yelling, so this actually sounded like a good idea to them.

But Crowley wasn’t the only petty bitch there, so Ito was going to let him suffer a bit. He certainly deserved to be chewed out... in general, really, but especially right now.

But, if asked, they would say that they were too busy trying to figure out what to do with the extra pasta. Enma would probably appreciate the opportunity to bulk up, but Kuroki was (in their always correct opinion) dangerously thin, and Grim would complain if they gave someone else more than him…

Once they had decided that they’d had enough, they pulled an extra bowl from the cabinet, making an extra portion for Crowley.

Kuroki stopped talking mid-sentence, giving them a wide-eyed look.

“He is not staying for dinner,” Kuroki snapped.

Crowley held the bowl of warm pasta in his hands, his expression strange. “It’s – er – against my culture to accept food from others.”

Ito hummed their understanding. “‘Guess I’ll put it in a T–… Supperware, then, one of us can eat it tomorrow –...”

Crowley cleared his throat, hugging the bowl closer to his chest. “You didn’t let me finish! I… I can’t accept it, without offering something in return!”

Ito blinked. That… wasn’t what they were expecting. They had just wanted confirmation that fae here used food to incur ‘debt’.

After fumbling with the bowl for a second – Crowley seemed reluctant to put it down, as if Ito might change their mind and snatch it away (Ito wasn’t the one he should fear, Kuroki was glowering at Crowley as if he was heavily considering smacking it right out of his hands) – he pulled out…

His phone?

He cleared his throat, awkwardly, and then held it out to Ito. “I was looking into buying a new one anyway. Try not to overuse the data. It can get expensive, real quick, got it?”

[nefertiti-fooling-fellow]

A Study of Good Omens and Taylor Swift Lyrics

AKA: These are the songs/lyrics from Taylor Swift songs that I connect to Good Omens (in honors of 1989 (Taylor’s Version))!!

1. YOU ARE IN LOVE (1989)

Hands down my favorite Taylor Swift song EVER.

Here are some lyrics that I think fits the Ineffable Spouses:

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

I mean…Aziphale and Crowley having to communicate through glances and touch because they can never really say they truly mean through the ages?

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Crowley literally STOPPING TIME because Aziraphale threatens to stop speaking to him!!! Simp behavior!!

You're my best friend

THEY. ARE. BEST. FRIENDS.

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

To me, it makes sense that they wouldn’t really have a good grasp of individual love quite yet at the beginning. Angels like Aziraphale are obligated to love ALL of God’s creation, but that’s a very distant kind of love. Crowley, a demon, whose very job description details that pure love is something he cannot feel.

But as they spend more time around humans, they finally realize the quiet companionship they feel around each other is LOVE. They find love in each other, in the simple pleasures of the human world around them.

(Am I reading into this too much?? Who knows! I’m having fun, I hope you’re having fun, let’s continue)

2. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Reputation)

I loved you in secret

Self-explanatory.

Deep blue, but you painted me golden

I think this line relates to both of them, especially recalling the Job minisode in S2E2. They were both lonely, both struggling with their faith in their respective sides but found common ground and a sense of belonging with each other!!!

I loved you in spite of

Deep fears that the world would divide us

I think this is self-explanatory again but it just needed to be said, such a good lyric.

Yeah, we were dancing

And I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing

This lyric reminds me of their Arrangement. I see a lot of people on here describing the rituals that Aziraphale and Crowley form over the years as an intricate “dance” around one another and I wholeheartedly agree.

Even though they don’t really think of each other as “hereditary enemies” (case in point: “foul fiend! After you,” from Season 1, Aziraphale stopping mid-smiting in S2E2 when he recognizes Crowley, “I trust you,” in S2E4, the Arrangement, etc…) they still dance the same lines of arguing that they are on different sides and therefore inherently different because their hands were tied (metaphorically) by their respective loyalty to Heaven or Hell.

3. Wildest Dreams (1989)

This song feels to me like it’s from Aziraphale’s point of view, if we were to relate it to the Husbands.

Exhibit A:

I thought Heaven can't help me now

Nothing lasts forever

Yeah…sounds familiar?

He's so tall and handsome as hell

I just think that this is how Aziraphale would pine over Crowley in his mind, it’s very…Austen, he would write this in his diary with a glitter pen.

I said, "No one has to know what we do"

Did someone say the Arrangement? Unlikely alliance??? Perchance.

4. Peace (folklore)

If Wildest Dreams is Aziraphale’s pining moment, then Peace is Crowley’s.

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

Angels in heaven has no concept of love, they believe Crowley wholeheartedly when he says “you have to wait a few days and see,” and even Crowley himself thinks that love is equivalent to sheltering under the rain and sharing one sweet, perfect kiss.

But that’s not why we, the watchers, recognize that Crowley loves Aziraphale, we see that when he walks through consecrated ground and saves Aziraphale’s book!! Crowley cares!! He would do anything to make sure Aziraphale’s safe!! And that’s love!!

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

THEY. ARE. FRIENDS.

5. Right Where You Left Me (evermore)

Season 2, Episode 6. Yeah.

[lostaroace]

"May I?"

Day 4 of the 30-Day short story challenge

The prompt given by a friend was "May I?" and so I decided to make a very small and simple Good Omens fanfic. It's my first for this fandom. There isn't much.

Fandom: Good Omens | Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley

Warnings: pre-slash, spoilers? | Words: 1026

Also available on AO3

Here it goes:

If one were to ask Anthony J. Crowley when did it begin… Well, for starters one would have to be struck by incredible luck to find Mister Crowley in any mood for engaging in a self-revealing conversation. Then, of course, one should specify what one meant by IT as Mister Crowley could venture that one meant The Bening, or even Before that, seeing as he was a demon and all that fanfare.

Once that IT had been specified, though, Mister Crowley would scrunch his nose in concentration, his yellow eyes unfocusing under his dark shades. 1862 may be the answer. The year Aziraphale became incredibly outraged when he asked the angel for holly water.

Things had been turning in Hell, and not for the better if one ought to speculate what "better" meant for Hell. Rumors vibrated under Hell's floors, restlessness infected high and low demons alike, and meanwhile, there he was, on Earth, fraternising with the enemy.

Angels and demons were on opposite sides planning the magnificent war that would take place on Doom's day. However, on Earth, Aziraphale and Crowley had an agreement in order to fulfill their supervisors will and yet enjoy all the perks of human nature. That was clearly dangerous and although it had always been the case, Crowley found himself in desperate need of a plan B. Succumbing to Hell's sentence if they found out about his conversations with the angel was a dreadful idea. He'd rather cease existing by his own means, thank you very much.

The angel hated the idea, of course, and so a long period of them not talking to one another began.

It started then, perhaps. A lurking feeling of loneliness and pointless existence nested in his chest, making themselves terribly comfortable there. Crowley reproduced the exchange in his mind over and over trying to pin down the exact word he should've changed or added in order to make the anger understand that it was imperative that he became the owner of a bottle of holy water.

Crowley tried to force his path and Aziraphale's in order to break the ice that kept growing between them, but it was fruitless. All he could do was observe Aziraphale's SoHo bookshop from a safe distance, his heart aching painfully and pitifully.

After that, Crowley took a nap. One shall be well versed in the notion that even when neither angels nor demons have the need to drink, eat, or sleep, they can do so if they so much as please, although a nap from them could entail a few decades.

It wasn't until 1941 that they met again in a London church at night. Crowley had heard about the nazis tricking a Mister Fell into finding them extremely rare books. They put a double act on Aziraphale, as they used a sweet miss to pretend to be a secret agent working with Scotland Yard. Only the angel could be as naïve as to trust and fall for it, Crowley was sure of it.

All in all, Crowley entered that church to aid whom he still thought of as his colleague. Friend, perhaps. It wasn't easy. Consecrated ground did awful things to the soles of his feet. If only his jittery tippy-tap wouldn't make his arms shake on his sides he could've entered much earlier and snatched a big bowl of the holy water resting there. Unsupervised!

Again, summing it up, Crowley and Aziraphale saved each other that night. It might've been then when it started, probably. Standing on top of the church ruins after the German bombing over London, Crowley cleaned his dark lenses as Aziraphale cried in distress about the rare books the nazis had asked him to bring and that he thought were lost under the ruins. Calmly, Crowley seized the bag full of books from one of the dead nazis and handed it to the angel.

"Lift home?" he asked playing it cool.

If one were to ask him how he knew it had taken place, Crowley would answer that the angel's eyes were unable to contain a certain affection from all the drive to SoHo.

Their night did not end there. No, Crowley had an appointment with one of the nightclubs, and Aziraphale went with him. The angel was beaming at the perspective of performing his magic tricks on a stage, and so Crowley humored him as nicely as he could.

During the magic performance, it appeared again in the form of pure trust. Crowley had never been trusted so blindly, so bloody well undeserving, and yet there was the angel handing him the gun to perform a magic trick where none of their miracles worked. The trick was a success and the beaming came back to Aziraphale as he played with the feathery boas in the dressing room, a flamboyant energy pouring from his smile and movements.

Crowley was captivated.

It nearly meant his end, as their understanding was found out by another demon, but he couldn't care anymore. Not when Aziraphale was just there, so damned happy and innocent.

Crowley was quick. His brain, that is. He was fast to acknowledge the thing-y in his being that pulled him towards the angel with such fervor it made him dizzy. Crowley was deeply and utterly in love with Aziraphale.

More so when Aziraphale showed that, using some handy work, he had snatched from the demon the photograph that proved that they knew each other rather well. They dined together, toasting their success, closing the gap those years had craved in their relationship.

Then, long after the food had been digested and the wine had been drunk, Aziraphale escorted him to the bookshop door.

"May I?" he asked, with his posh manners and his feelings falling down his sleeve.

Crowley obliged.

Aziraphale assisted him with his coat, and his hat, and he even straightened his red tie though it did not need any adjustment.

That is when it started. The moment Crowley knew Aziraphale loved him with the same ardor as he loved him. Sadly, Aziraphale has always been the slower of the two as well as the most afraid of Heaven's ire. 

The end.

[vidavalor]

Thanks for reading. 💕 Glad you found it thought-provoking. I can answer the Crowley's S2 living situation stuff.

<<He's a supernatural being, surely he could snap his fingers and have a place to stay??>>

Indeed. Only one reason why he wouldn't, right? If he didn't feel the need to because he already had a place he considered his home.

There's a deceptively simple answer that I wrote about in more detail over here. The short answer is that he never bothers with getting another place because he has been basically living with Aziraphale for some time now.

Crowley doesn't want to get another place because that's a pain in the ass. He'd have to actually be there sometimes. To have Aziraphale stay there would then be a whole other set of secret shenanigans to set up and that feels exhausting. His bed is the one he shares with Aziraphale. He has no desire to go get another one and he also doesn't know how Aziraphale would take it if he said he felt he needed to (which he doesn't really feel) when they're closer to taking a leap and living openly together than they are to taking more steps than they already do to hide their relationship.

From what we can see in other scenes, the "rules" of their arrangement that Aziraphale mentions in Lockdown is that Crowley goes a bit Romeo and always leaves out the side door before dawn so that anyone who might be watching them won't come away with the impression that Crowley is spending the night in the shop. It's also why Crowley parks The Bentley away from the shop when he's staying past business hours. (Normal people business hours, not the bookshop business hours lol.) You can read more about things along that line over here, if you're interested.

That is how Aziraphale never realizes that Crowley no longer has his flat. It's because Crowley is slipping out of bed at the same time he always does. He and Crowley don't do mornings because they're trying to avoid being spotted together at any time of day that might suggest that they spent the prior night together. Even in 2008 in 1.01, after their sushi date is interrupted by their head offices and Armageddon begins, they still wait until noon the next day to meet up in the park.

Crowley used to go back to his flat during that morning time before and Aziraphale just assumes he is doing that up through S2. Crowley is literally spending so much time in the bookshop that they're effectively living together so it never occurs to Aziraphale that Crowley doesn't have a home to go to because they both have always seen the shop as Crowley's primary home anyway. It's more safe for Crowley than his Hell-owned flat ever was so it's where the two of them have set up their world together.

Crowley was lying to Shax about living in his car. I mean, technically, he was sort of living there from about sometime around 4:30am to noon-ish everyday but, on days when he was not meeting Shax, he probably usually just took himself to breakfast or the movies or whatever for a few hours before he saw Aziraphale again. If Aziraphale had to go away for a night or two during that time to see to the cottage in the South Downs he's not yet told Crowley about some book thing or whatever lol, then Crowley probably just magically checked himself into a really swanky hotel for a bit. He's not really living in his car.

In S2, Crowley thinks that it's better that Shax thinks that he sleeps every night in his car then it is for her to realize that he's living with Aziraphale so he makes sure that she sometimes meets him at his car on a side street in the morning while he's fake-napping/quasi-napping, as if this is where he spends all of every night. To him, Shax needs to believe he's without a place to live so that she'll tell Hell that they really did a good job doing Crowley rotten by taking his penthouse flat and leaving him to live in his car.

In reality, though, Crowley does genuinely have a bed to sleep in every night. He just doesn't want Heaven and Hell to find out that it's the one Aziraphale sleeps in, too.

Hello lovely! I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about Maggie in Final1 5? Isn't it weird that she wants to go back to talk to Az and Crowley while Nina's working? Something about it feels off to me.

Hello right back. 💕 There's chamomile mint tea and shortbread since we're on a Maggie theme, if you'd like some. Maggie's behavior from that scene on is super fucking weird, I agree.

Before the milk run-- when Maggie becomes the only involved character whom we lose track of a bit during The Final 15-- versus how she behaves when she returns is so strange as to be something that I consider maybe additional proof that things are not at all what they seem to be in The Final 15.

On Maggie and Crowley's weird Final 15 behavior, a possible meaning to all the allusions to robbery in S2, and what Maggie and Nina might be able to tell us about what happened at the end of S2.

TW: brief mentions of show's non-consensual possession/rape analogy.

Think for a moment about how truly weird Maggie's request for her and Nina to go back to the bookshop in that moment actually is...

It's only been a matter of minutes since Maggie and Nina were basically hostages in the bookshop who were almost killed by Michael and Saraqael. Crowley saved their lives in getting them out of the shop maybe, what? It's been a minute since I rewatched that bit of it but it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes prior?

The beings in the shop but for Maggie and Nina are supernatural and so left magically without using the door but while we the audience know that these people are no longer in the shop because we were watching it, Maggie and Nina do not know that. When Maggie suggests to Nina that they go talk to Crowley and Aziraphale, they have no way of knowing if the beings that just tried to kill them are still in the shop. They didn't even see Aziraphale leave with Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing yet because Nina was all "where's the other one?" to Crowley when they arrived back in the shop.

Maggie is literally like: Nina, I know you opened the business you own late and are the only one working right now and have a line of 20 people waiting for their morning, pre-work coffee but what if-- just hear me out-- we just made them wait an indefinite amount of time to voluntarily go back into the place where we nearly died a matter of minutes ago that could still be full of the people who wanted us dead and we did this for no other purpose than just to tell off my beloved adopted godfather and his partner, who just risked harm to save both our lives? And to maybe then also stick our noses into their love lives in return or something?

I mean... WHAT?!?! lol

Consider, even, how even more weird that is when Maggie, just *prior* to having gone to the mini-mart, had never been more on the same page with Nina and never more understanding?

She sacrificed her own want to go sleep behind the counter of her shop to offer to help Nina. It's a big moment of change in their relationship and shows a lot of growth for Maggie. She's gone from someone who is caring but has a tendency to only think about how things make her feel to seeing things from Nina's perspective. She's matured through the season into being someone more ready to be a partner to Nina. Maggie offering to help Nina with her morning rush-- and Nina accepting the help-- is the sweet, romantic moment showing that these two are heading in a positive direction, both individually and together.

When Maggie gets back with the milk, though? After she's been out of our sight for a few minutes? She's behaving very differently.

During S2, Maggie is shown to be a pretty guileless character. She might have the occasional judgemental moment but she's not deceptive or tricky and she really wouldn't hurt a fly. When Maggie comes back from the milk run, though, her insistence on Nina dropping everything and going with her in that moment is not just weird behavior but manipulative in a way that could not be more out of character for Maggie.

Nina has been in an abusive relationship where she was afraid of displeasing Lindsay. Maggie is aware of this, as it's been the subject of multiple conversations between them throughout the season. So, when Maggie gets so bizarrely insistent on Nina dropping her work-- her livelihood, her purpose, her job-- to meet Maggie's demands in that moment? When this isn't an emergency of any kind and isn't at all time-sensitive and there is no objective reason why Nina should be halting her job to do what Maggie wants in this moment? Maggie is being controlling in a Lindsay-like way. She keeps at it, knowing that Nina will give in and agree to go with her because Nina is used to doing that with her partner.

Nina hesitates and isn't sure whether or not to go with Maggie for a moment and I don't really blame her? This is the complete opposite behavior to Maggie before she left for the mini-mart. Maggie is suddenly acting quite a lot like her polar opposite-- the Lucifer-and-Heaven-paralleling Lindsay.

Maggie is also literally on Nina's shoulder like a devil the whole time in the scene in which she's convincing her to step away from the shop and go across the street with her to the other shop for a chat and...

...listen to what we just said there...

...it's a parallel to the thing that Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing is doing with Aziraphale, is it not?

So, what happened on the milk run?

Who did Maggie run into at the mini-mart that we couldn't see in the ending of S2 without it giving the game away? I wouldn't be surprised if, on this mirror-happy show, on the other side of learning in S3 that it was The Devil with the coffee in the bookshop in The Final 15, we also had a scene that showed that, while on her milk run, Maggie had a run-in with Sister Teresa's killer.

Did Hastur possess Maggie as part of Satan's plan? Was the idea to use Maggie and Nina to further trip Crowley and Aziraphale towards disaster to get Aziraphale? If so, it kind of half-worked. I'm not convinced that anything Maggie and Nina said to Crowley really mattered-- I think they weren't telling him anything he didn't already know or feel and that it's largely misdirection for the audience. What was effective, though, was the impression Aziraphale got upon seeing them leave as he was coming in.

Maggie and Nina being back in there at this weird time and then rushing out with smiles and comments like that they were "just leaving" and they were sure Crowley and Aziraphale had "a lot to discuss" seem to have led Aziraphale to assume that Crowley had asked them to come back and to the conclusion that he must have done so to tell them of his intent to ask Aziraphale to marry him. It's Maggie and Nina leaving the shop that reinforce to Aziraphale the idea that, when Crowley stands up afterwards, takes off his glasses, and says he supposes he has "something to say", that Crowley is only trying to communicate a proposal and not a plan.

It's what helps-- big time-- to lead Aziraphale to not listen for a shred of coded language for the entire scene. Neither he nor Crowley are listening for that with one another, which is why neither of them can truly understand what the other is saying, but Aziraphale's part of that is really fucked to Hell by the presence of Maggie and Nina in the shop when he came back. That's all pretty suspicious since Maggie was out of our sight for a few moments and came back fixated on the idea that she and Nina needed to go to the bookshop right that very moment and that it couldn't wait.

The Final 15 is a dark parallel to The Baby Swap plot and Maggie and Nina are full of shadows of Sisters Mary and Teresa to a point that the final shots of both of them in the series are mirror images of the final shots of their S1 characters. Nina looking through glass at Crowley departing is the last shot of Sister Mary both in 2008 and 2019, while Maggie's last shot?

To me, it's one of the most eerie moments in the entire series because of how much it visually resembles Sister Teresa's death.

Basically two minutes after we hear about The Second Coming... in the same season where Maggie and Nina's partial-vavoom gives way to a (possessed?) Gabriel saying: the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more... we are shown Crowley and Aziraphale's apparent adopted goddaughter unresponsive on the counter of her shop.

Is Maggie dead?

Is Maggie asleep, like we were led to believe she wanted to do earlier in the episode? Maybe. Is she comatose/unconscious? Maybe. It's just that, best I can tell, she does not take a breath during the shot which I feel had to be intentional on the part of Maggie Service, and she's in the same position as we last saw Sister Teresa in S1...

Then, there's the robbery theme and how Maggie and Nina foreshadow so much of the end of S2 back in this scene here:

In Good Omens, the shop is the character. Maggie is, symbolically, the records she sells. The show also explains that Maggie's shop used to be a part of the bookshop. Now, there are three characters, not two, who are A.Z. Fell & Co.: Aziraphale, Crowley and Maggie. At the same time, Aziraphale is also The Small Back Room. The shops are intertwined as the characters are, essentially, family in the story. The fate of one is the fate of the other, which makes what Maggie and Nina foreshadow when talking about Maggie's shop while trapped together in Nina's not just the fate of Maggie's shop in S2 but also of the bookshop.

Maggie says that if she can't close the door to her shop, someone could walk in and take records. Maggie is the records she sells so, symbolically, this means someone could take Maggie. We got a bit of a preview of that when Shax appeared to get into her mind during the attack on the bookshop and Maggie also became the one who unintentionally "let the robbers in."

These robbers, Maggie frets... they could empty her till-- take all her money on a literal level... take her mind, or maybe even her life, on another. (Not to mention the now chill-inducing use of money-related words and coins with regards to the paralleling Crowley...) These robbers could take forcible ownership of Maggie's shop-- so, of Maggie. Maggie's shop was born of the bookshop... so, they could take forcible ownership of the bookshop, too.

Not just the physical bookshop, though that, too. The symbolic bookshop. Which is not only Aziraphale but Crowley and Aziraphale.

But, if The Small Back Room was originally part of the bookshop, then the bookshop really isn't just Crowley and Aziraphale-- it's Crowley, Aziraphale and Maggie.

If the robbers come for the bookshop, they've also come for The Small Back Room because it is all born of the same, symbolic shop.

Is that what they did?

Is that why Maggie is last shown to us non-responsive in her shop?

Now, Nina's even more foreshadowing reply:

Nina said that, if she owned a record shop, she'd be more concerned about "someone breaking in and leaving more records behind."

What are records? They're the literal records in the musical and old film sense that Maggie sells, yes, and also Maggie herself. They're also books, like what Aziraphale sells, and Aziraphale himself. But they're also a third thing that's very much of note in S2.

They're also the life's work of a scrivener, like what Muriel does.

Nina foreshadows someone breaking in and leaving "more records behind"... which is exactly what happens in The Final 15.

Elspeth's graverobbing. Bildad stealing Job and Sitis' wine and food. The 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Aziraphale having the missing Shakespeare Robin Hood play in the box in 2.06. The robbery-based fantasy Aziraphale was telling Crowley in Lockdown: ...the other night, when a couple of young lads broke into the back and tried to steal the cash(cache)box!

The Final 15 is a robbery.

The last two episodes see the shop attacked during The Meeting Ball and into the next morning. Aziraphale is robbed blind of his entire life. Characters are taken hostage. Signals for help are tried and fail. The cop, it turns out, was a stooge for the robbers. Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing broke in through the open door and robbed the place blind, as Maggie foreshadowed. As Nina foreshadowed he would, what did the robber leave behind?

More records. Muriel.

To rob, as we know, is to steal. It's to plunder or strip a place from someone through force and/or violence. That is why it was once, in addition to being descriptive of physical goods stolen from a person, also a word that was used for rape, for which non-consensual possession has been analogous since the show's first episode. That is why some of us think that the music goes insane on the look to Crowley in the scene below. Satan is robbing Crowley-- forcing him to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the angels and to let Aziraphale go alone with him.

Satan attacked Crowley in front of Aziraphale and, while Aziraphale pretended he didn't see it, he did, which is why he led "The Metatron" straight out the door in an effort to get him away from Crowley. Because, speaking of characters behaving very weirdly... anyone have a better explanation for why guard dog Crowley sat in that chair like he couldn't get out of it and encouraged Aziraphale to go alone with a guy who once tried to kill them? It just doesn't make any sense unless his words are not really his own and there's only one character we've seen do that to him.

And if Crowley's not the only one behaving out of character, then what else happened to Maggie at the mini-mart but something similar?

What happened in The Final 15? Satan robbed the bookshop.

He and The Metatron don't give a toss about the shop itself and plan to destroy it alongside everything else once Armageddon gets rocking. They're there to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon by dividing and conquering. Just because we've yet to see blood doesn't mean this wasn't robbery by force.

Satan took hostages at the start-- letting the ones go he didn't care about go and keeping the ones most likely to influence the shop's owner: Crowley and Muriel.

Satan and The Metatron sacrificed Muriel to their plan, not caring if Muriel explodes along with the shop when they kick off Armageddon a matter of *checks watch* basically any minute now after S2. We think Muriel is better off in the shop at the end of S2 but I'm not totally sure they are. I think it actually might be one of the most dangerous places to be in right now. The bookshop didn't burn down this time-- it was burned as safe space in every possible way. It's a crime scene.

The Metatron and Satan are here for revenge. The Metatron is letting Satan have Aziraphale to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon. There is no real job offer-- it's all Satan tempting Aziraphale into falling. Satan's revenge on Crowley and Aziraphale is to force Crowley to help him take Aziraphale right out from under his nose. That's the start of it, anyway.

Besides Armageddon and daring to have a relationship and a sense of self outside of the demonic collective of Hell what is Satan really pissed at Crowley and Aziraphale about?

His kid. Adam. Crowley and Aziraphale helping Adam against him.

If Satan has been lying in wait, still very, very angry at Crowley and Aziraphale for turning his son against him and if he's now here for revenge, then who else besides Aziraphale is then most in peril here?

Yes, my Job-and-Sitis-paralleling poppet... your big, cross duck and your kids are most imperiled here and S2 showed us that your kids are not just humanity writ large but, specifically, Maggie. The Small Back Room is of the bookshop that is you and Crowley. Maggie is your Adam. Will Satan come after your daughter? It's a concept posed in your paralleling/foreshadowing story earlier in the season... actually, it was also the entire plot of that paralleling story earlier in the season as well...

I feel like not going with Ennon and Keziah's theories on Satan's behavior is probably the best way to form a Good Omens theory 😂 so I'll stick with the idea that Satan very much would dare leave a revenge body count of Crowley and Aziraphale's adopted kids, as the Job minisode proved he'd do even with the spawn of "God's favorite human", let alone anybody else.

As, speaking of foreshadowing lines, this is really even more S2 than it was about S1:

Satan will even have a whole pseudo-philosophical chat about it with you first, amused that he's standing in a place called Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and ordering a coffee while the plan is likely for this place, the women making him the coffee, and everyone on this street and on most of the planet to be dead by tomorrow.

Maggie is the only character who actually asked for coffee using that exact word in S2.

[josnhoes]

In a regular au of twisted wonderland but Yuu is a girl and keep it hidden quite well enough to pass as a guy with feminine features

And witch character of your choice say break in the Ramshackle as always but this time they discovered with Yuu wear a simple dress that the ghost given her as spear clothes since it laundry day, cooking in the kitchen singing a song from their world

I like listening Caravan Palace - Moonshine, since summer is nearly over and it fits well somehow

Content warning fem!mc/yuu

Pretending to be a man was fairly easy. Crowley had provided a binder since he couldn't let the school's reputation suffer. Which was insulting that a woman being at the school would make the school look bad. You know it's really so word doesn't get out about his tremendous screw up in calling a magicless human into this world and forcing her to be slave labor. You knew that was his game.

There was ups and downs to the act. You had to miss a week of in person classes every month or the beast men would catch on, and while it was nice to not have when you were angry being excused as hormones or being irrational the sting when you got called an asshole was new. Freeing in a way too.

A big downside to it all is the lying. You feel so much guilt keeping this from everyone you had made friends with. But you didn't know what would happen to you should it come out. Would you be forced of campus and made homeless? You didn't have an offical paperwork her so you couldn't get a job job. There was just too much to worry about more important then your guilty conscious.

A long day was ahead of you, it was Sunday which meant laundry day. The crow had set up a washer and drier in the old dorm you were in, and your friends all knew Sundays you cleaned so no one showed up. It was an unspoken rule, if anything happens on a Sunday you were on your own. Even Crowley managed to respect that.

You cleaned diligently as the washer ran in the background. The gentle rhythm of the water relaxing you as you swept. You didn't even noticed you had begun to sing. Swaying with the broom like a dance partner, the hem of your dress swishing with the movement. For this moment you weren't lost in another world, or afraid of what will become with. You were calm and Tranquil, flourishing as you sung and the repetitive actions.

Of course the peace never pasted long; as you finished your song you heard clapping and froze. If you didn't turn around they wouldn't know who it was. "This is not what I was expecting when Rook told me to check in on you prefect."

Vil the perfectionist had seen and while he was the least likely to spread the information it was Rook who had told him to check on you so two people knew.

"V-Vil! What brings you here?" Play dumb!

"I had thought you where injured by the way my vice-warden was behaved so I came to check on you. But little potato I can't believe you kept this from me." Vil seemed legitimately hurt.

"I've kept it from everyone. I have to."

"Then tell me why you *had* to." The dorm head of Pomefior sat on on of the chairs. And explain you did, you told him everything. The headmaster behavior, your fears, and how worn out you were. The guilt of keeping this silent. The washer had been long since done by the time you finish your venting.

"You should tell everyone, you have made many friends and powerful allies her potato. Even Malleus is indebted to you for solving his overbolt incident. That's more then enough power and influence to keep you safe alone, but you have myself in your corner too and I am quite good at pr." The blond had a point. Maybe you should come open, say fuck the self proclaimed generous man who made you an indentured servant.

"And if I *don't* want to?"

"Then I'll help you keep it secret." You were lucky Vil wasn't the type to hold things over your head. "But you'll have to join me on a date or two off campus."

Well you thought he wouldn't hold it over your head.