#don’t worry crowley will make a miraculous escape

[scienceismygirlfriend]

some things are unforgivable, crowley (paradise lost was NOT “i dunno, kinda derivative, don’t you think?”)

for @racketghost’s prompt “bonfire” 🔥

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Droplets of Lethe, Chapther 2

Well, it’s up late but it’s here - the second chapter of my @do-it-with-style-events mini-Bang fic, Droplet’s of Lethe!

(Though I’m now at over 11k and just getting started, so there’s nothing mini about this mini-fic!)

In this chapter, Crowley begins to look for answers, but must leave Aziraphale alone in the shop to do so...

-- (Excerpt) --

The Bentley roared across the Thames, squeezing down the space between lanes, bypassing cars and buses and the occasional pedestrian. Crowley missed them all, one miraculous escape after another. Nothing would dare get in his way today. He didn’t have time for that.

He held the ring in his fingers, clutching it as tightly as he could.

Already the black tarnish had brushed off, which was good. It meant it probably wasn’t actual Hellfire, which would have destroyed the ring entirely. But there were still many types of fire down in the pits, and a faint scent of sulfur and brimstone hung over the bright gold metal.

It had to be Hell. He didn’t know why they’d come for the angel, but who else could it be? The claw marks all over his wards spoke of multiple attacks, yet Aziraphale hadn’t said anything. Not a word. Any time Crowley had asked, he’d just smiled and said this shop is the safest place in all of London, my dear boy. Stop worrying about me.

He’d almost let himself start to believe it. And now...

Crowley hadn’t really been able to reset the elaborate protections, merely looped the two ends of the wards together. Hoped it would hold. But above that, he’d woven his own protections, and once they were in place, no mortal or supernatural being would be able to see the bookshop until he personally pointed it out.

That was the kind of protection he could count on. Aziraphale might be the Guardian, but Crowley was very good at hiding.

Certainly much better than the demon he was looking for.

South of the Thames and eastward, the winds started to pick up, clouds dotting the sky that hadn’t been visible from Soho. He paused the Bentley at an intersection, cranking down the window to take a deep sniff. Despite the signs of rain, there was a hint of desert in the air.

It had already taken over half an hour to get here - and another ten minutes of driving around that Crowley could not afford - before he finally saw his target, lurking outside a park on an otherwise unremarkable street lined with brownstone townhouses. Dark curls of hair tugged and twisted in the wind, and the playground equipment rattled. Three children who had been clamoring all over the jungle gym clutched for dear life, trying not to fall on their heads, while their mothers pulled sweets out of backpacks for afternoon snacks.

“Oi. Wanker,” Crowley called, jumping out of the Bentley. “Stop creeping around kids’ playgrounds, you get arrested for that these days.”

The other demon turned to him with a smile more like the baring of teeth, showing fangs wide and curved like a lion’s. “Ah, Crawly. Where have you been hiding?”

“Crowley,” he snapped, shoving the demon’s narrow frame back against the fence. For a second, the pointed face seemed to pass through an inky mist, emerging from the other side with different, softer features - straighter hair, rounded chin, wider shoulders. “What the Heaven have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” the demon dragged fingertips across Crowley’s arm. They looked like human fingernails, but he could feel the claws tugging at his sleeve. “Chaos. Destruction. Someone has been letting the humans feel content and safe for thousands of years. Time to bring back a little of the old ways, don’t you think?”

“That include attacking angels in their homes?”

“They are the enemy,” the shifter scoffed. “And we are at war.”

“No, we aren’t. There is no war, there was this whole big thing about that. In case you missed it.” Crowley shoved the demon again, causing the fence to rattle and creak under their combined weight. Again, the face dissolved into black shadow, and returned, this time with soft dark eyes and pouting lips. “And I specifically recall telling you lot that he and I are to be left alone.”

“Can’t blame an udug for trying, can you?” The demon slid out of his grasp as easily as water, and moved down the fence, swaying like the wind. “I thought he was supposed to be this big, scary unstoppable warrior. What’s he doing, sending you to make his threats?”

“Like you don’t know.” Crowley clenched his fists, trailing behind. “What did you do?”

“I? Not a thing.” The wind howled again, and the jungle gym rattled, shifted, until one bar broke, leaving a child suddenly dangling, screaming in true fear. “Just as I won’t do a thing to those children over there. Just the work of gravity. I won’t intervene until someone asks me to.”

Crowley watched the mothers rush over to pull the children free, clutching them close, herding them away from danger. “It won’t work, you know,” Crowley grumbled. “Maybe three thousand years ago you could convince them to sell their souls to keep their children safe, but these days? If that thing breaks they sue the company that made it. Write angry letters to the council. And the kid gets to walk around school with a cast for everyone to sign. They don’t need you to protect them.”

“You sound almost proud.” The demon turned again to face Crowley, passing through swirling blackness to emerge looking ten years older, short hair streaked with grey, stubble growing across a square jaw. “We will teach them to fear again.” A cold smile, showing just a hint of fang. “But to more immediate matters, no, I didn’t do anything to your angel, apart from rattle his defenses in the night. Sounds like someone else was more successful.”

“You’re Hell’s new agent in London,” Crowley pointed out, crossing his arms. “If it wasn’t you, you know who did it.”

“Perhaps.” The demon circled around Crowley and sauntered away, ignoring the mothers as they hauled their children back to the bench, checking for injuries. “If you tell me what happened, I’m sure I can...guess.”

“I didn’t come here to play games. Who was it? How did they get in? What did they do?”

(Find out the rest on AO3!)

[seehowsupplethespineis]

Lift Home

(Here we have my first Good Omens fanfiction! Well, the first Good Omens fanfiction I’m posting; I’ve got plenty of WIPs for this fandom that I will one day share with the world. I wanted to cover all the things I’ve been wanting to write for this fandom in this one piece so expect lots of pining, bickering, and a car chase.)

(Warnings: Nazis, a tiny bit of blood, explosion, guns, accidental murder (of Nazis))

(Note: This story takes place directly after the scene at the bombed church, if that isn’t immediately made clear enough.)

The rubble of the razed church lay piled up around the angel, illuminated by fires that had sprung up from the ruins. The flickering flames cast haunting shadows over jagged edges of stone. An air raid siren in the distance, along with the far off screams of people nearby, added an ominous layer to the already depressing scene.

Aziraphale honestly couldn’t care less. He was a little too preoccupied with the demon sauntering off into the gathering darkness, the very demon who had, just moments ago, rescued him and his precious books in an undeniably selfless and courageous act of pure kindness. It was a hard concept to process in itself without the odd feeling of warmth and giddiness spreading from his chest to the hand holding his precious cargo. Adding that to the jolt of panic these sudden emotions brought, Aziraphale could hardly breathe, let alone move.

“Hurry it up, angel!” Crowley’s lazy voice made something twist in Aziraphale’s gut, “Don’t know how many Nazis might be lurking around! Should probably get a move on!”

Aziraphale took a few moments to find his voice, “R-Right! I’m...right behind you!”

Crowley spun back around and strolled unhurriedly yet with a few cautious glances into the darkness to the car he’d parked somewhere in the distance. Aziraphale took one step after him, then two. When he didn’t immediately combust in a shower of sparks, the angel found enough confidence to jog after the demon, clutching his books protectively to his chest and slipping and sliding over bits of rock as he went.

Being the unusually considerate demon he was, Crowley paused to allow Aziraphale to catch up to him. Aziraphale flashed the demon a nervous smile as he neared and averted his gaze for the remainder of the walk. He found himself in an odd state of being where he deeply wished he were alone in his bookshop while also wanting to never leave Crowley’s side. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way, though this time he had to reckon with the strange flips his stomach was doing.

Aziraphale wasn’t an idiot. He was an angel, and angels knew a thing or two about love, or at least were very good at detecting it. Right now, Aziraphale could feel it in himself, and the feeling was directed at Crowley. The feeling was strong, too strong, so strong that the angel tried to suppress it for fear it would come off of him in waves that would wash over Crowley and give him away. But Crowley just kept walking, oblivious, hands tucked leisurely in his pockets.

The angel and the demon eventually stepped over the last of the rubble and crossed the road to reach the car parked on the other side. It was a black car, sleek and well-looked after. Aziraphale wasn’t much of an expert on vehicles not involving horses, but it seemed of a good design and make.

He was about to say as much to Crowley in an effort to relieve the oppressive silence between them, when a gunshot went off nearby. Aziraphale winced as something whistled past the demon and him. He barely had time to realize that someone was shooting at them before Crowley was dragging him roughly by the elbow.

“Blasted Nazis!” Crowley hissed through clenched teeth. He yanked Aziraphale round to the front of the car, “Get in, angel!”

Aziraphale ducked down and hurried around the car to the passenger side while Crowley fumbled to open the driver’s side door. Another gunshot went off, closer this time. Aziraphale threw open the car door and dove inside, his bag of books still clutched firmly to himself. The angel noted as Crowley clambered in that the demon’s hat was missing from his head.

“Bloody close.” The demon growled as the car sprang to life beneath them.

Aziraphale twisted in his seat to see a car speeding up behind them, “I thought the Nazis I met in the church were the only ones here!”

“They were,” The car engine roared, “But some tailed me as I came here. Been keeping track of my movements for a while.”

“Why?” A bullet cracked against the glass windows of the car. Crowley muttered a curse.

“I’m kind of a big deal at the moment. Hang on!”

“Hang on to wha-?” The car surged beneath them and took off at a speed Aziraphale had never before experienced. An involuntary yelp escaped him as the vehicle accelerated, fast leaving the car full of Nazis behind. Aziraphale fumbled for something to hold onto and eventually just latched onto his seat.

“Crowley!” The angel didn’t mean for his voice to sound so shrill.

Crowley glanced at him, “Oh, right! Never been in the Bentley before, have you?”

“S-Slow down- Watch the road!”

“We’re fleeing from Nazis, angel! Not exactly a good time to take it easy!”

“You’re going to get us killed!”

“Those Nazis are going to kill us if we don’t keep moving!”

Crowley turned his head to look through the back window, “Speak of the devils.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut as the Bentley took a left turn at a velocity that defied whatever scientific laws God had placed on the Earth. He tipped dangerously in his seat and briefly made contact with Crowley’s tensed shoulder before snapping back to his seat once the car continued straight. More bullets rained on the car, burying themselves in glass and metal.

“Can’t concentrate enough while driving like this!” Crowley made a wild gesture with his left hand, “Do something, angel!”

“Like what?” Aziraphale shrieked as a bullet zipped past his face and narrowly missed Crowley’s hand. It transfixed itself in the front windshield.

“Anything!” Crowley shouted, “Just make them stop shooting holes in my car before they shoot holes in us!”

Aziraphale’s mind raced through all the miracles he could use. Make the car invulnerable? Turn their guns into toys? Miracle a flock of birds to blind them?

Another bullet whizzed through the now shattered back window. It moved too fast for Aziraphale to see but he heard the cry of pain Crowley gave a mere half second before the bullet crashed through the front window. The cry sent a jolt of something through Aziraphale and before he knew what he was doing he had raised his fingers and snapped.

The Nazi car exploded in a cloud of flame. The metal frame of the vehicle shot up into the air like a phoenix rising from the ashes only to crash back down to the ground on its head. The melting tires pointed upward to Heaven as a last means of salvation, but of course an agent of Heaven had caused it.

Crowley lowered the hand he’d pressed to the gash in his cheek to stare open-mouthed at the destruction behind them, the car slowing to a halt. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the orange light of the flames that danced around the inside of the Bentley.

The stunned silence went on impossibly longer until Crowley jerked back to face Aziraphale, looking from him to the fiery wreck and back again, “I...You... I didn’t...Uh...Good job.”

The angel refused to meet his gaze, “I didn’t mean to go that far. But you startled me when you...and...well...it’s done now.”

Crowley stared at him, the gaze made no less intense by his dark glasses. Aziraphale would have turned away, but the blood seeping from the wound on the demon’s cheek held his attention.

“Are you alright?” When Crowley seemed confused, Aziraphale gestured to his face.

“What? Oh, right. Yeah, I’m fine.” He smeared a hand over the injury and it healed up instantly, “Just a scratch.”

“Ah. Thank goodness for that.”

“Yeah…” Crowley didn’t take his eyes from the angel, “Thank goodness.”

Aziraphale glanced out the window and took a deep breath, “Well, we’d best be off, then. It’s getting late.”

Crowley reluctantly looked away from Aziraphale to glance at the sky, “Yeah…”

After miracling the car back to it’s original intact condition, Crowley sped away from the flaming wreck, though thankfully remained slow enough not to make Aziraphale fear for their corporations. More sirens blared in the distance, likely from fire trucks coming to put out the numerous fires the two entities had caused. It was best they make themselves scarce.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the Bentley as Crowley drove to Aziraphale’s bookshop. The demon was the first to break it, “So...tonight’s just been a night for blowing up Nazis, hasn’t it?”

Aziraphale sighed, “I didn’t mean to blow them up, not that I’m…”

Crowley turned to face him, “Not that you’re what?”

The angel gestured for him to keep his eyes on the road before responding, “Not that I’m upset about the whole matter. I’m sure Heaven won’t be upset with me for relieving the world of a few Nazis, especially in self defense.”

The barest smirk twitched across Crowley’s lips but he didn’t say anything.

Aziraphale looked at him. The demon’s glasses hid his eyes from view, and the angel wanted nothing more than to remove them to see the beautiful golden eyes beneath. Such a thought should have caused him to go up in smoke just as the Nazi car had done, but miraculously- er, luckily it didn’t.

“Are you sure no one else is following us?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley took a right turn that was still a little fast for Aziraphale’s liking but not too much as to worry him, “Pretty sure. I only counted one car following me when I drove here.”

That statement made another question spring up in the angel’s mind, “How did you know I was in the church?”

The demon shrugged, though Aziraphale noted the action was a little forced, “Like I said, pretty popular at the moment. Word reached me about some Nazis planning to double cross an old bookseller and I figured it was you.”

Aziraphale glanced at his bag and allowed himself to relax his hold on it. He nodded to Crowley, “I know I already expressed my thanks, but-”

“Don’t mention it, really.” Crowley waved the gratitude aside, “I should thank you for taking care of those other Nazis.”

“It was my pleasure.” Aziraphale gave a small smile.

Crowley simply nodded and the drive continued in a comfortable silence.

Aziraphale was far more reluctant than he should have been to bid good night to Crowley. The demon stopped the car right at his bookshop entrance. The sight of the darkened shelves sent a wave of loneliness through the angel. The sudden urge to invite Crowley inside seized hold of him and he spun to face the demon.

Crowley’s hair glowed red in the light of the streetlamps. One arm was thrown casually over the steering wheel and the other rested on his seat so he could face Aziraphale. His eyebrows raised as he sensed the question forming on the angel’s lips, his lips parting slightly in surprise and some emotion Aziraphale couldn’t read.

The angel instantly panicked and choked on his words, “Thank you for taking me home!”

Crowley sat still as stone for a few seconds before he gave his head an almost imperceptible shake and averted his gaze, “Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Fumbling with the door, Aziraphale pushed it open and stepped out into the chill night. He placed his hat on his head and held his bag in a two-handed grip. Without a backward glance, he marched up to his bookshop, threw the door open, and slammed it behind him. After a couple of seconds, the Bentley’s engine roared and quickly faded out of earshot.

The bookshop felt dark and empty despite the mass of his beloved books surrounding the angel. Aziraphale leaned against the door, not wishing to trek any further into this lonely establishment. But trek he did, with a thud in his step and an ache in his heart.

I’m an angel. He’s a demon. We’re hereditary enemies. Get that through your head, you stupid principality!

Aziraphale set his bag down and collapsed into an armchair, throwing his hat haphazardly into the gloom. 

He had made the right decision, at least that’s what he continued to tell himself in order to stifle the intense yearning he felt. If he had let Crowley into his shop, Aziraphale was sure he couldn’t have endured it. He loved Crowley. That fact wasn’t something he could ignore, however much he wanted to. It was something he needed to repress until it was rendered inert. That wasn’t how emotions worked, the angel knew, but he had no other choice. It was simply impossible for Crowley and he to be anything other than what they were so there was no point in loving him at all. Their relationship at the moment was already a forbidden one without adding love into the mix.

What kind of an angel am I? Aziraphale was forced to conclude he was a lousy one. With a sigh that came from nearly 6,000 years worth of wariness and one night of harrowing action and new discoveries, the angel popped open the first bottle he saw and poured himself a glass.

[duocreatix]

Ok, can I talk a little thing (or two) about Good Omens impressions?

Or actually, can I talk a little about the development of their love story as shown in the (glorious) third episode?

I was re-watching the series with my husband and, when it came to this specific episode, some things came to my mind while watching the marvelous half an hour of it that I’d like to put into words for a better understanding, for me and for y’all that maybe agree with me.

First of all, I’m gonna start from the idea that Crowley wasn’t primarily in love with him since the Garden of Eden, but acquired a heavy interest, almost an obsession, towards Aziraphale (the first angel that treated him as an equal) that slowly translated into pure affection (and eventual love) throughout 6000 years together. Where this transition occurred is not clear during the scenes, since the whole flashback is told from the angel’s point of view… except the 1967 scene, and this is important.

Secondly, I’ve already seen many people discussing that, in the 1941 church scene, Aziraphale didn’t found out he was in love with Crowley, but that he was being loved back, and I personally agree with this thinking line. This is also very important.

Why? Let’s go back a little bit…

(This is gonna be long, please bear with me…)

So, based on what’s written in the book, Aziraphale and Crowley agreed on sealing the Arrangement in 1020 AD, and the series showed very well the changes in their dynamics between 537 AD (before the Arrangement) and 1601 (after the Arrangement), where I’ll start.

Aziraphale leaves this marvelously obvious when he basically smiles at the sight of Crowley (even though he also smiled when saw him at Rome in 41 AD) and, well, asking for extra favors with that puppy eyes of him…

(and Crowley accepting, which is adorable in my opinion)

They’re doing favors to each other for almost 600 years by then, seeing each other more frequently than ever, so yes, they’re already seeing each other as friends (or at least kind of coworkers). Is Crowley spoiling the angel and said angel is starting to take advantage of this demon’s tendency? Absolutely. But romance…? Maybe not yet.

And then, well, comes French Revolution and Aziraphale is locked in the Bastille in the verge of being discorporated and Crowley comes to the rescue. Maybe the angel hadn’t fallen in love yet with the demon, but I’m in favor of the theory that, being the bastard that we already noticed he can be, Aziraphale walked into France aware he wasn’t appropriately suited for the historical moment (and with a miracle restraint) hoping to run into Crowley. So, yeah, that would justify the literal stars that shone in his eyes when he listened to his demon’s voice:

I could screenshot this entire scene piece by piece to prove my point, but I won’t, ok? The entire development leaves clear their mutual pining and how used to Crowley being always there Aziraphale became in those 770 years of Arrangement, to the point of risking his human form in the name of gluttony, almost in a leap of faith because he was sure Crowley would save him at the end.

(Aaaand he does all this not so little selfish things conscious that they could bring problems to Crowley, as he mentioned during the Globe Theatre scene, but the demon keeps doing anyway just to please his angel… Is Crowley already in love? Probably yes)

And then we arrive in 1862, and that for me was the breaking point in their relationship. Up to now, as I mentioned, Aziraphale always had the certainty that Crowley would be there for him, but this drastically changes here. I have my own thoughts about the holy water situation, and what amazes me the most is the fact that, instead of reading Crowley’s request as “I want holy water so I have a weapon to use against other demons if they ever come to me”, he read like “I want holy water to end my own life in case everything goes wrong”.

You can see, right here, his change of posture:

What does it mean? Simply that, for the first time in 5840 years, Aziraphale felt the fear of really losing Crowley, forever, no coming back, and panicked. The panic was big enough to label their relationship as other thing than friendship (probably as a defense mechanism against the fear of losing, even what they have done all those millenia is, indeed, fraternizing), which enrages Crowley: So what you’re saying is that I’ve been fooling myself all these centuries thinking of you as a friend, as someone I could trust my fucking demon life???

Thinking about it while writing, the whole “I-don’t-need-you-And-the-feeling-is-mutual-obviously” sounds like pure bickering from both sides trying to hurt the other. Do they succeed into it? Marvelously: they stop talking to each other, Crowley probably goes to his century-long nap (while hating himself for the fact that he knows he loves the angel, otherwise he wouldn’t be so angry with the fraternizing thing), and Aziraphale starts attending Gentlemen’s Clubs to forget his sorrows and try to detach from Crowley (any ficwriter can insert Oscar Wilde right here in Azi’s life). Their relationship ruins from here, and they’ll never be the same.

So, we arrive at 1941, both angel and demon living their lives fully apart from each other… but Crowley is unable to refrain himself from worrying about his angel. And then, that pathetic excuse of a demon, aware that Aziraphale was manipulated by the Nazis to hand over his precious books and was about to be discorporated again, enters a church, steps on consecrated ground and diverges a whole enemy attack to save the angel he loves.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale really considers he’s totally alone this time (i.e. without the guarantee of Crowley being around, because he barely knows if he still exists), doomed, forced to being discorporated and having to deal with celestial paperwork… Look at the despair in his eyes:

Thankfully, things go well and the two escape miraculously from the explosion, and Aziraphale can breathe again, like things can almost go back to how they were before. Almost.

 And then comes The Scene:

And that’s here, the exact moment, when Crowley, more than saving his life (which, btw, he had no obligation to do), also saved his books, that Aziraphale actually feels Crowley’s love for him emanating for the first time, and it leaves the angel absolutely astonished. His feelings are being returned for real, and he honestly doesn’t know what to do about it.

Look at him, look at his eyes and dare to tell me this isn’t pure love??? He thought he lost his friend, but in the end he came back in his aid, like some sort of knight in a shining armor… and also saves everything he cares about!! (bonus points for the romantic soundtrack, Mr. Arnold)

Poor Aziraphale. (evil laugh)

Finally, we arrive at 1967, where this whole consideration came from. As I said, this is the only scene from Crowley’s POV, and there’s a reason to it: up to this point, Aziraphale is finally certain of his own feelings and that he’s actually being reciprocated, but the other side isn’t. So, while Crowley keeps going with his plan, the angel decided to pay back the gesture from 1941 by providing the Holy Water he needs so much.

What does it mean? It means for Aziraphale an opportunity to stop Crowley from hurting himself again or being caught by Heaven’s lot during the robery (even if providing said water causes trouble to himself), but mostly is another leap of faith to both sides: Aziraphale is willing to trust that Crowley won’t kill himself with Holy water while asking Crowley to trust his word and keep the fucking tartan thermos closed until it’s needed (which he actually does).

So, what I really, really wanted to reach is this specific point:

Tbh, their interpretation was crucial to me here because, let’s be real, the dialogue in this scene is very subtle in its real meaning. This moment is Crowley’s time to realize and understand what’s going on with Aziraphale through the last hundred years, and it hits him like a rock: his angel loves him enough to go against his own principles to attend his request, sacrificing his rationality and risking being discovered. He’s right there, by his side, raw and truly open like he wasn’t for centuries, letting the demon sense his own feelings for the very first time. So yes, after everything he said, Crowley, he loves you back.

And, interesting enough, what’s his first reaction after acknowledging this fact? Offer a ride, wanting to spend some time with his beloved angel and, who knows, make up for lost time. But Aziraphale feels too fragile, too uneasy, about the fact that he opened himself for Crowley and now the demon truly knows his feelings, and needs time to rebuild his walls and create a convincing facade that’ll deceive his lot he has nothing to do with his hereditary enemy. He wants to reciprocate Crowley, but now like that, it’s too early for him yet: Don’t expect me to accept your advances right away, I’m feeling too vulnerable right now and I’m afraid that I’ll let you consume me completely if I surrender in my current state, so please respect my time.

Interesting enough, Crowley actually kept his cool facade in 1941, when he let the angel see his true feelings, something that seemed impossible to Aziraphale when he did the same. He’s an angel, after all, he’s unable to lie!

This way, he’ll probably only understand Aziraphale’s insecurities when he goes through the same situation, or at least the closest he’ll get: while the angel feared losing the demon, the demon really lost the angel, and with him his stability, his other half, his world:

And suddenly, running away from the Apocalypse didn’t matter anymore, to the point the sunny ballad of “You’re My Best Friend” turns into the anguished prayer of “Somebody to Love”.

[cryptidkieren]

come around (1/6)

ayy waddup its ya boy back at it again with good omens fic

i wrote literally the entire outline and the first couple chapters before my power randomly went out????? so i had to start from scratch rip

heres the ao3 link if you want it :)

edit: so i adjusted the tags a bit and it completely erased the body of the post???? i love being on tungle.com :)

-----

It first began, as these things were wont to do, on a quiet winter morning. This one happened to be in Aziraphale’s bookshop.

The angel had been enjoying his morning, flipping the sign on the door to ‘Open!’ somewhere around 10. The warm light of his gas lamps combined with the smell of old books still put him at ease, even after all these years. Snow was falling softly outside, muffling the chaotic noise of London a bit and bringing with it that impatient sense of the incoming holidays that December promised. He still hadn’t heard anything from the Head Office, not since Adam Young ordered both Heaven and Hell to leave them alone over 6 months before.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise, tea cup resting against his bottom lip.

There stood Crowley, wrapped in too many layers to be comfortable, snow and malice swirling around his feet as he clomped- yes, clomped into the shop. The heavy black boots he wore were packed with already melting snow, making small puddles on the hardwood under him.

“Do shut the door, Crowley, or are you trying to heat all of London?” Aziraphale set his cup back down on the tray beside him, lips twitching as he tried to fight off a grin.

“Anything to end this bloody weather, angel!” The demon waved a gloved hand carelessly at the heavy door, forcing it to close if it knew what was good for it. “I am sick to death of the cold! I might actually be sick! Can demons even get sick? If not, then I am definitely one of a kind!”

Aziraphale chuckled as he got up from his comfortable spot, allowing Crowley to rant and shuck his numerous layers onto the floor. “I swear, you get more prickly every winter, my dear.” The angel snapped his fingers and the scattered outerwear was miraculous hung up on the coat peg by the door.

Crowley glared at him, his dark shades slightly fogged and fiery hair a right state from his designer beanie. “I swear this is my punishment from the bust Armageddon. God is torturing me with this cold front, knowing I’m going to freeze my bollocks off and die!”

The angel snorted, cheeks heating slightly, and covered his mouth. How dramatic. He stepped up to unwind the crimson knit scarf hanging around the demon’s neck. “It’s only the first snowfall of the year, dear. I have no idea why you don’t retire to the south during winter at this point, to be honest. Greece is wonderful this time of year, and I know how you love to make fun of tourists at the Parthenon.” Aziraphale smiled at him, turning to hook the scarf on the coat peg with the demon’s jacket.

It was quiet for a moment. Aziraphale turned back to the other, an eyebrow raised in question. He willed it back down to a normal elevation; he had been spending too much time with Crowley.

The demon in question just stared at him, lips pursed and brows drawn behind his glasses. “You haven’t left your bookshop for that long since you opened it.”

“Um,” Aziraphale blinked, quite confused with the sudden topic change. “I-I suppose that’s true. How is it relevant, though?”

The angel could only as Crowley opened his mouth, paused, and let out a rush of air as he raked a hand through his already messy hair, turning to look out the frosted window. “I guess it isn’t.” He seemed… Dejected?

Oh!

“Crowley-”

Something in Aziraphale’s voice must have caught his attention, for he whipped back around to stare at the other, back ramrod straight and shoulders tight. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

It broke the angel’s heart.

“Crowley, darling,” he said, catching the way the occult being twitched at the endearment. He frowned, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable. “I-I mean, my boy, this isn’t like Alpha Centauri. If you wanted to go on holiday during the winter, you can always ask. I could never imagine having a problem following you across the world.”

Aziraphale caught up with his own words only moments after they escaped, causing his face to flame and panic to set his heart racing. After 6,000 years, he finally let the cat out of the bag and now Crowley was going to hate him or be disgusted by him or quietly pretend it hadn’t happened and he didn’t know which one would be worse-

Time seemed to slow to a standstill as he watched Crowley open his mouth, obviously about to deliver Aziraphale’s death sentence, when the bell above the door rang out and broke the moment.

They both turned to watch as an elderly woman hobbled in from the cold, snow melting in her silver curly hair. Her lilac colored coat was promptly hung up next to one of Crowley’s, standing out against the all the black. She looked around for a moment, leaning a bit on her wooden cane, before spotting them and smiling politely.

“Good morning, gentlemen! Are one of you the proprietor of this shop?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale choked, clearing his throat slightly as he took a step away from the demon. He valiantly swallowed his terror and slapped on his customer service smile. “That would be me, madam. How may I help you?”

“Oh, I was looking for a book,” she said, hobbling over to him on her cane. Crowley politely moved away from them, towards the counter with the old fashioned register that was barely used.

“Obviously,” the demon muttered, though not very quietly.

The customer narrowed her eyes in his direction, as if she were thinking of hitting him with her cane.

“What kind of book?” Aziraphale jumped in. After all, he didn’t want violence to break out in his shop. He had a feeling Crowley wouldn’t come away unscathed.

The woman turned to him again, making the demon let out a breath audible from across the room. She smirked. “It’s an old book, of course. My great grandmother used to read it to me when I was little, and I wanted to start that tradition up with my newborn grandson.”

The angel smiled warmly, feeling the love pouring out of the elderly woman. One of the perks to being an angel was the ability to feel good things everywhere, like love, which this woman seemed to have an abundance of. “Of course, madam. Would you happen to have the title or the author?”

Here, the woman sighed mournfully. “‘Fraid not, dearie. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I can remember bits and pieces, though, would that help?”

Even a demon couldn’t say no to her hopeful, pleading face. Good thing he wasn’t, as the angel jumped at the chance to help.

“Worth a shot, right?” Aziraphale smiled widely, ushering her over to his chair with the untouched tea service. A little twitch of his fingers and the pot was steaming once more. He sat on the small floor pouf decorated with little bow ties tucked under the chair, something Crowley once got him as a gag gift. “Please, make yourself comfortable and tell me what you remember.”

He listened as the elderly woman described her book and sipped her tea, smiling as he made notes on a little notepad from his pocket. He admired the woman’s dedication to details, such as the texture of the pages and the style of the front cover.

Of course, he also noticed how Crowley leaned against the counter behind her, watching them with his chin in his hand. His eyes were unreadable behind his spectacles, but the small smile on his lips was easier to define.

Aziraphale ducked his head again, hiding his own smile.

When the woman finished her description, the angel straightened up and checked his notes. It sounded familiar enough…

“Oh!” he grinned, swiftly rising from his own seat before helping the old woman to her feet. “I think I know where that is!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, apparently, as even Crowley grinned and moved out of the way when the angel came bustling around the counter. He headed towards a case in the North wing, already picturing where the novel would be housed.

Aziraphale grinned as he looked up at the top shelf of the case. There it was, sitting amongst its brethren, just as he thought it would be! As he reached up, he immediately encountered a problem: it was inches out of reach.

The angel frowned, straining and stretching his arm, trying to make up the distance. He contemplated performing a miracle to get it down, but the woman was watching him with barely contained amusement.

He dropped back to his heels, toes and side aching a bit, as he stared up at the offending novel. The angel heard a huff of laughter behind him before a darkly clad arm suddenly invaded his eyesight. “Honestly, angel, I’m going to buy you a step ladder one of these days.”

The heavy book was dropped into Aziraphale’s hands. He blinked at it for a moment before his felt his entire face grow warm. Wrinkling his nose at the smirking demon, he thanked him primly before turning back to his customer.

Before he could even start, the woman chuckled, deepening her wrinkles. “My wife used to do things like that for me too, bless her soul.” Her bittersweet expression only touched on the sudden feeling of melancholic love she pushed out from her soul, causing Aziraphale’s breath to stutter in his lungs.

It also didn’t help that her insinuation made his cooling face reignite with embarrassment.

“Oh! He’s not- We’re not- I mean-”

Crowley fled then, heading towards the back room with bright red ears . Aziraphale caught a glimpse of his hand over his mouth before he disappeared and the angel felt his stomach drop out.

Oh. Alright. Disgust was the answer to that question, then.

“Don’t worry, love,” Aziraphale’s quiet breakdown was interrupted by the elderly woman, whom he had quite forgotten about as his heart was breaking. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Your young man seems to love you very much.”

The angel smiled tightly at the woman, feeling his face flush further against his will. He quickly brought the book to the register, intent on getting her out as soon as possible. As he was writing out the necessary information for his records, the older woman placed a hand on his own, effectively capturing his attention.

“Listen, my dear, if you two really aren't together, then you're both blind.” The woman raised an eyebrow at the angel, a kind smile on her lips. “It’s obvious to just about anyone with eyes that you love each other, and time isn't forever. If I could go back and be with my wife sooner, I would, because there was already so much wasted time before we both had to buck up and have a little faith.”

She patted his hand, then, grinning mischievously. Hers was dark and soft against his own, heavily lined though he had lived so much longer than her. “Have courage, my dear. As the kids say, you only live once.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aziraphale bit his lip, ducking his head as the customer withdrew her hand. He finished cashing her out (at an extraordinarily discounted price, to boot) and helped her back into her coat. As she left the shop, the bell ringing happily above her, the angel sighed deeply as his earlier panic reared its ugly head again. He would rather face all of Heaven alone than go find Crowley at that moment.

Aziraphale steeled himself and determinedly made his way to the back room. It was cramped, the space not really made for what he used it for, but it was comfortable. The small kitchenette shoved in the corner was rarely used, while the tattered sofa and threadbare armchair dominated most of the space.

Crowley himself was lounging on the sofa, a glass of something amber in his hands despite the early hour.

“What a lovely woman,” Aziraphale said with a smile and a shake of his head. He moved to the kitchenette, determined to make himself a cup of tea the human way to soothe his simmering anxiety.

“Sure, lovely, right,” he muttered, draining his glass in one go. The angel tutted reproachfully.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that, Crowley?” He sat in the armchair with a contented sigh, sipping delicately on his too hot tea.

He didn’t have to see the demon’s eyes to know he was rolling them. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, etcetera etcetera.” He then reached for the crystal bottle on the table between them to refill his glass.

It grew quiet then, Aziraphale occasionally sipping from his cup while Crowley stared into his as if it held answers he was searching for. The old clock on the wall ticked away, the only noise in the room.

The angel took the time to ponder on what the old woman said. ‘Have courage.’ He felt his heart ache something fierce, a well of yearning opening up in him. He wished he had courage.

But courage couldn’t make Crowley love him. His expression as he made a break for it earlier was proof enough of that.

His mounting inner turmoil was then interrupted by the being who caused it.

“Tempt you to a spot of lunch, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled at him, feeling brittle, as he set down his cup. “It’s barely gone half past ten, Crowley. They’re not serving lunch anywhere at the moment.”

The demon huffed, sitting forward to set his own glass down next to the angel’s. He looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses, golden eyes sparkling in the lamp light, as a mischievous smirk settled on his face. “Brunch, then. I know how you adore those little pie things in that café in Athens.”

“Oh, their spinach and feta pites are to die for,” Aziraphale moaned, already craving the dish. A sudden choking noise made him turn back to the demon.

Crowley’s glasses had slid down his pointy nose, allowing him to stare openly at the angel. Two spots of color sat high on his cheeks. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley? Are you alright, my dear?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever trance held him then, jerking back as he roughly pushed his dark glasses back up. The color on his cheeks seemed to be spreading.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Crowley said roughly. He jumped up from the sofa then, giving the angel a start. “Race you to Greece!”

And he was gone, the bell at the front tinkling behind him.

Aziraphale shook his head with a small chuckle. He rose from his own seat at a more leisurely pace, snapping his fingers to clean the glasses and send them back to their cupboard.

“What a cheat.”

Then he chased after his demon, feeling content enough.

-----

[next chapter]

[get-your-fics]

i love you

Summary: Inspired by the Billie Eilish song, Aziraphale and Crowley unexpectedly run into each other in another era, except this time is unlike any other.

Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley

Warnings: Lots of fluff, and a little bit of angst for good measure

The air smelled like sweat and perfume and liquor and cologne. The gas lights hanging above cast a warm yellow glow down on the dance floor of crowded bodies, obscuring their faces until they all looked indistinguishable from one another. Some of the girls’ dresses caught the light and reflected it with every twist and spin. The sound of laughter and glasses clinking against one another and the live jazz music up on stage filled the air. The atmosphere was so carefree and jovial, it was hard to see any of it ever coming to an end.

It was hard to see everything ever coming to an end.

The year was 1928, and Aziraphale sat at a black, metal table at the back of the cramped speakeasy, slightly dizzy from the cocktail in his hand. He had to admit, he didn’t think he would enjoy spending time in barrooms like this one, but he found himself indulging in the convivial environment. However, he had his limits. In the past, some people had approached him and asked to buy him a drink or to dance, but he had turned them down. He liked to keep his distance and always observed the activity from afar.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he spotted movement at the door to the establishment. He turned his head, and sure enough, he saw it: a tall, lean shadow lurking at the back of the speakeasy and slinking along the walls. It dodged any light that intercepted its path and maneuvered around anyone that came close to it. But Aziraphale knew that was no shadow, but a certain demon he happened to be rather fond of. What was he doing here?

He observed the shadow until it drew close enough to him so it was within earshot. “Crowley!” he shouted over the loud music.

Sure enough, the shadow’s head snapped towards him. There was a moment of hesitation before it stepped into the little pool of light surroundings Aziraphale’s table, revealing itself to be the demon Crowley. His dark red hair was slightly shorter than when he had last seen him, and he had finally gotten rid of those God awful sideburns. He wore an all black, three piece suit and a fedora on top of his head. Even though it was dark inside the barroom, he had his signature sunglasses on to conceal his yellow snake eyes.

“Aziraphale.” There was a tinge of shock to Crowley’s voice, and he looked the angel up and down. “Still the same as always.”

If it weren’t for the dark interior, Crowley would’ve seen the hint of blush that made its way to Aziraphale’s cheeks. He was wearing the same coat he had worn for centuries. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on an assignment, so I thought I should come and check out the scene.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and looked around. “The Americans have had it good for too long. Their time must come to and end.” He focused back on Aziraphale. “What about you?” His eyebrows raised. “You’re not responsible for this, are you?”

“What, me? Oh, no.” He put a hand to his chest and laughed. “My people hate this sort of thing.”

Crowley tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you here?”

“Well, I have to say I do delight in some of the fun. It really is intriguing, the things humans choose to spend their time on.” He folded his hands in his lap.

“Shouldn’t you despise all of this?” He gestured around him to the dance floor. “Isn’t it supposed to be sinful?”

“Oh, my type couldn’t care less about prohibition.” He dismissed his statement with a wave of his hand. “I’m not going to be around for much longer anyway. There’s a man named Alexander Fleming whose about to make a miraculous discovery overseas.” He pursed his lips. “But are you sure it has to end so soon?”

Crowley leaned his shoulder against the brick wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe me, if it was up to me, this would continue for eternity, but orders are orders.” He crossed his ankles. “Don’t worry. I’ll probably just cause a little stock market crash, high unemployment rates for a couple of years. They’ll bounce back in no time.”

Aziraphale nodded his head, swallowing roughly. He didn’t really like the sound of that, but at the same time, there was nothing he could do. “Could I offer you a drink? This place has some of the best moonshine on the black market.”

He shook his head. “You know I don’t like to drink.” He pushed himself off of the wall. “I wouldn’t mind a dance, though.”

His eyes widened. “Need I remind you, angels don’t dance, Crowley.”

“Most angels don’t dance.” He smirked and extended a hand out to him. “But you’re not like most angels, now are you?”

Aziraphale’s gaze flickered down to Crowley’s hand. It looked unassuming, like any other hand made of flesh and bone and muscles and sinews and tendons and veins pumping blood. But he wondered what would happen if he did take his hand. Would he be consumed by hellfire then and there? He reached out his own, his palm hovering above Crowley’s, before finally making contact. He waited to burst into flames, but nothing ever came. The only spark that ignited was the one coming from his skin against his.

“Oh, all right.” Aziraphale smiled. “Just one dance.”

The demon grinned back at him and pulled him to his feet. He dragged him into the middle of the dance floor, dancing bodies surrounding them on all sides. There was no escape, but as Crowley started to move in time to the blaring jazz music, Aziraphale found himself not longing to flee. He started to dance, much more elegantly than his counterpart, though watching Crowley try to match the beat and rhythm of the music with his body put a smile on Aziraphale’s face.

He quirked a brow at him. “Are you laughing at me, angel?”

Despite the obvious laughter falling from his lips, he answered, “No, not at all,” his tone dripping with sarcasm.

They continued, periodically taking turns to twirl each other under the other’s arm. It must have been something, back in those days, to see two men dancing so closely with one another, but it was so dark and crowded in the room, it was impossible to tell who was who. Everyone was faceless, and their attire blended together in a blur of color. Aziraphale found it freeing. This close to Crowley, he could smell the scent of cigarette smoke and burnt wood that followed him everywhere he went and feel the unexpected amount of strength contained within his lanky limbs.

The song came to an end as the band stopped playing. Aziraphale and Crowley separated from each other and ceased dancing, opting instead to stare at one another. Aziraphale felt lightheaded, maybe from all of the spinning and the cocktails earlier. Crowley raked over his form. He anticipated his needs before Aziraphale could even say anything.

“Want some fresh air?” he asked.

They headed out of the barroom together, going unnoticed by the other patrons. This particular speakeasy was located in the heart of New York City in the back of a diner in a subterranean level of the building. It required a password to enter. Aziraphale and Crowley walked down the bustling streets shoulder to shoulder, listening to the consistent honking of car horns and catching snippets of conversations as people passed them. No one ever even knew there was a demon and an angel amongst their midst, let alone walking side by side.

They came across Central Park. It was the end of summer, so the towering trees and dry grass were already starting to wilt. The leaves shriveled up and turned brown, some already snapping off of branches and floating through the air where they eventually came to rest on the ground. It was a peculiarly chilly night, and Aziraphale was grateful that his coat shielded him from the cold bite of the night air. The wind weaved its way through the park and blew past them, ruffling the white hair on his head until it stuck up in soft tufts. Crowley chuckled when he noticed it. Aziraphale blushed and smoothed his hair back down with his hands.

“Fancy a walk?” the demon asked.

They strolled through the park in silence, listening to the chirping of the cicadas in the untamed bushes and the breeze whistling through the trees, causing them to sway this way and that. The deeper into the park they went, the further the neon lights got until they faded into the background. The only light illuminating their path was from the moon and the stars and the occasional streetlamp. Aziraphale nervously chewed on his bottom lip, the unsaid question lingering between them eating him up inside.

“Have you heard anything about,” he lowered his voice to a whisper even though he knew there was no one around to hear them for miles, “the end of the world?”

The pleasant smile on Crowley’s face vanished the second he finished his sentence. “No, I haven’t.”

Aziraphale faced forward. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” He tried to save face.

Crowley hummed in response. The topic seemed to loom over their heads more recently than it ever had before. Aziraphale could tell it was coming close. It could be days or even decades from now, but he could feel it, like a buzzing in the air, and it nagged him.

They came across a wrought iron bench looking over a little pond on the gravel path. Crowley sat down first, and Aziraphale took the seat next to him soon after. The light of the moon glinted on the dark water and highlighted the ripples on the surface as it pulled the tide in and out. Aziraphale listened to the slight splash of water and watched as a few ducks glided across the pond.

“Do you reckon there’s a way to stop it from happening?” Aziraphale broke the comfortable silence that had settled over them after a while. The clear quality to his voice like the ring of a golden bell sliced through it like a knife.

Crowley didn’t turn to face him. "Stop what from happening?”

“The end of the world,” he clarified.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I doubt it.” He looked out over the pond. The emotion in his eyes was indeterminable due to the sunglasses. “If heaven and hell want a war, they’ll get their war.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “But there must be something we can do!”

The demon whipped his head to gape at him. “We?” His face contorted with frustration. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re as subject to the Great Plan as anyone else.”

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek. He knew it was true. Angels and demons were supposed to be the fate makers, changing the path of history through temptation or salvation, but even they had things they couldn’t do. In this circumstance, they were as helpless as any unassuming human.

“I’ll find something to do,” he muttered, mainly to himself even though he knew Crowley could hear him. “There must be a way. I won’t stop until I find it.”

The demon beside him chuckled lowly. “I know you won’t.” Then, he said in the softest and most gentle tone Aziraphale had ever heard him use, “That’s why I love you, angel.”

Aziraphale felt like time stopped around him. It was his turn to stare at him out of bewilderment. From the look on his face, Crowley seemed to be taken aback by his own words himself. His complexion had turned a shade paler, and his lips formed into a small, round ‘o’ shape.

Aziraphale’s lips twisted into a frown. “That’s not funny, Crowley.”

There was a moment before he replied, “I’m not lying.” He scanned Crowley’s face for any hint that he was joking, but it was strangely blank. His lips were pressed into a thin, straight line, and his forehead was creased

Aziraphale clung to the bench like he might fall off the edge of the Earth if he didn’t. Was he hearing things? It couldn’t have been a slip up. He was the one who had been drinking, not Crowley. He knew he should’ve felt repulsed, maybe even disgusted, but all Aziraphale felt like was that the end of the world had come early and without warning.

“You can’t possibly feel that way for me, Crowley.” He wrinkled his brow.

“I know I’m not supposed to.” His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. His chin wobbled, and that’s when Aziraphale noticed the streak of tears leaking out from each eye underneath his sunglasses.

He was crying? Ethereal beings weren’t supposed to cry, weren’t supposed to feel anything close to any sort of human emotion that could make them cry. Had they been on this Earth for so long they had forgotten who they were? They were an angel and a demon. They were sworn enemies, opposite sides of the same coin. They were supposed to be inherently different, but as Aziraphale gazed at Crowley, he wondered if the only difference between them was that one of them had fallen and the other hadn’t.

He tentatively reached forward and pinched the frames of Crowley’s sunglasses. His jaw went slack, and Crowley raised a hand to stop him. But it landed limp on his wrist, like he wasn’t really resisting. Slowly, Aziraphale slid his sunglasses off of him. He folded them and held them tightly in his hand. Crowley’s eyes were closed, but eventually he opened them. There they were, the same shocking yellow with a black slit down the middle. They were always so cold and hard and unfeeling, but now they had a certain softness to them, like one more word and he would break. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes and stained his slim cheeks.

Crowley looked down, and Aziraphale put a finger under his chin. He lifted his face so he was staring directly at him. He felt himself lean forward until there were only inches between their faces. His body seemed to know what he was doing, even if his mind didn’t.

“I just want to see what it feels like,” he whispered as his gaze flickered down to Crowley’s lips.

Aziraphale closed the distance between them, and his lips made contact with Crowley’s. He was sure he was on fire now. The burning sensation spread from his lips throughout his body, running along his nerves until it reached his fingertips. He wondered if, when he pulled away, he would see smoke. Crowley froze at first, but eventually relaxed into the kiss, moving his lips against Aziraphale’s. He could taste the salt from Crowley’s tears mix with the gin he had been drinking on his own tongue, but it was sweet.

He felt kind of silly and ridiculous, kissing Crowley like they were two humans in love. Surely, angels and demons were above such things. What were they, and who were they pretending to be anymore? But for some reason, Aziraphale felt warmth spread through his limbs at the simple act of affection.

He pulled away and opened his eyes to meet Crowley’s snakelike ones. He moved his hand that was under his chin to cup his cheek. He brushed away a stray tear that had fallen with his thumb. His skin was surprisingly soft and smooth to the touch.

“We could run away, you know.” Crowley’s usually commanding voice was small and vulnerable. “The universe is billions of light-years wide. The Earth seems like a dust speck in comparison.”

Aziraphale laughed slightly. He would always wonder why God chose this planet out of all the others to meddle with. “I love you, Crowley,” the demon’s face lit up at his words, “but you know I can’t abandon this world. I can’t give up on it, on the people. Not yet.”

He thought that Crowley would be angry and retaliate as he usually did when Aziraphale spoke fondly of humans, but instead, he smiled. It was a painful smile, and Aziraphale could tell he mustered all of his strength to force the corners of his lips upwards, but he still did it. “That’s my angel.”

Aziraphale smiled back. He rested his head on Crowley’s chest, and Crowley wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He felt safe and warm and protected in Crowley’s arms, though he knew he ought to feel the opposite. He wondered when everything became so complicated. He and Crowley had only seen each other a handful of times over the centuries, very briefly when they had, but at some point between the garden and now they had fallen in love with each other. They held onto each other like they were falling apart, and even though doom was impending and the apocalypse was on the horizon and they didn’t know when they would see each other again, for a short, beautiful moment, everything was fine, and they were just in love, and they had each other forever, like it or not.

It wasn't the end of the world, but something had ended that night.

[mostfacinorous]

more Aziraphale and Crowley post-flood! how does their little camp fare?

This is a continuation of the story (backstory?) from days 24 and 31 of my Whumptober entries. You can find those here, on my AO3. No warnings apply to this fic, though, and all the backstory you really need is that Aziraphale and Crowley (still Crawly) are raising the kids they saved on the ark, once the waters have receded.

So without further ado…

As the sun shone hot and harsh and the water dried, first to mud and then to hardened clay, they were glad of the work they’d done on the land early on. All around them, a crust had formed, thick and tough, and it made travel easier for a time– for there was a solid, mostly flat surface to walk across, but there was little to travel to, save Noah and his family’s own encampment. 

They had disassembled the ark and used parts of it to begin again, which was handy for them. And, as it turned out, they had more lumber than they needed for their homes. 

Crawly decided to speak to them with a miracled pouch of seeds to trade– risky, of course, as they may not be friendly to one with eyes such as his, particularly so soon after their trials, and all the riskier because if they succeeded in their planting, that was one less thing that the childrens’ camp would be able to offer in future trades. 

But Crawly assured Aziraphale that it would be alright. 

“Only a third of these seeds are viable, and the ground is so hard, the nutrients sinking so deep, following the water– I don’t think they’ll have much luck with it, unless your side is planning to step in and help them out.” 

Aziraphale shook his head. 

“No, I think they’re mostly on their own for the moment; I’ve not received any orders. But… isn’t that.. dishonest?”

A few of the children were listening in, obviously interested in this exchange, and Crowley felt a pang of fear. The last thing he wanted to do was raise them to be wicked enough that God felt the need to give wiping them out another go. 

“Seeds are never a guarantee,” Crawly began, keeping his voice down in the hopes of escaping tiny judgments. “I’m not worsening their chances, I’m just not miraculously bettering them. And I am giving them a chance, which is more than She would do for others. I think it’s fair.”

Aziraphale frowned, but glanced over at where three of their boys were rinsing the grains that they’d multiplied for cooking, later. 

“We could just miracle up tools and repairs.” Aziraphale said offered, looking stubborn, but Crawly just shook his head. 

“The children have to learn. They have to be able to teach their children, and be able to leave if they want, and make choices for themselves. So we’ll show them how. The human way.” 

Aziraphale pursed his lips, but finally nodded, and Crawly let out a relieved sigh and a smile. 

“I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.” 

“With milk, if you can manage. Even through the miracles, the stuff from the ark has started going off.”

Crawly gave a swaggering sort of salute and headed off, letting his feet kick up tiny clouds of dust as he made his way over the small hill and through the plain that lay between their home and Noah’s. But he worried his lip as he went. Bringing milk back today would buy them another few months, perhaps, but then he’d have to go back and bargain for more. Still, he doubted there was much else he could do– unless Aziraphale was capable of duplicating animals the same way he did food. It was too much to ask for there to be more cows already; he wasn’t entirely clear on the process, but he was vaguely familiar with the timelines, and it seemed too soon for that. Besides, there was only so much he could ask for with nothing on offer but a bag of seeds.

“Father! A survivor!” Japheth called out as Crawly approached, and he saw several more of the family members look up and over at him, could feel the suspicion radiating off of him. 

“Hello!” he called, raising his hands up, bag of seeds clenched in one of them. “A messenger from God has sent me!” True enough– Aziraphale had asked him to bring back milk, so no lie there. “I am meant to begin trade and start a friendship between our two saved families.” 

He could see Japheth and Shem exchanging a glance, but Noah strode forward to meet him. 

“Of course– we could not have been the only good people to have survived– ah! Your eyes!” he drew up short, face going wary, and Crawly swallowed and looked down, contriving to seem ashamed. 

“I was cursed by a demon, before God’s messenger saved me. This mark I shall bear always.” He sounded as solemn as possible. “But I promise you, it bears no ill effect– we survived the flooding, after all. And I come with seeds to trade, seeds for fig trees, in exchange for wood and some milk, if you can spare it.” He was performing humility quite well, he thought. 

“Figs!” Noah’s face lit up, and he seemed delighted. “Yes, of course- as you can see, we have plenty of wood. Ham!” He called out, and the third of his sons came forward. 

“Yes father?” He asked, eyeing Crawly’s eyes warily. 

“Fetch some milk for– ah, I didn’t get your name.” Noah faltered, then recovered. “Oh, where are my manners? Come, you must be tired from your travels– you said it’s you and your family? How many of you? Are you far? How do you come to be without milk?” 

“I’m Crawly,” he said and stepped forward in the direction that Noah gestured, but then stopped. “I’m sorry, I mustn’t tarry for long. We were not instructed to build large, as you have– and our cow drowned in our efforts to stay afloat. My family is… well, we are family now, but we are not related. It is myself and a holy man, and all of the children we could save. That was what we were instructed to make room for. And the children need milk.” 

Crawly glanced significantly at Ham, and he nodded, clearly stricken by the story, and ran off to milk the cow, as instructed. 

Noah grasped him by the forearm. “Bless you, then. Only the two of you and the children– how are you faring?” 

Crawly looked around at Noah’s buildings, then shrugged. “We have made a home for ourselves, more humble than this, but I know how to grow plants, and we have already planted. We are surviving, in the meantime, on fish and forage.” 

Noah rubbed his hand along his beard, clearly considering. 

“Your need of milk will continue, then, until the children are old enough to eat and your crops have grown. I will make you a deal: Bring us seeds after your first harvest, trade with us your extras, and when your children and my grandchildren are old enough, perhaps our families might intermarry. In the meantime… we have a female unicorn who can be milked. Her mate was lost in the flood and she will be the last of her kind. Take her back with you, with as much wood as she can carry, and you will have everything your children need, for now.” 

Crawly felt his eyes widening, and a real sense of gratitude growing in him. 

“Truly? Thank you!” he answered enthusiastically. 

“God has chosen us for a reason. I would have our families be friends.” Noah answered gently, and squeezed Crawly’s arm again before letting it go. “I know you are eager to get back. But rest now while I have my children prepare you for your return.” 

Crawly handed him the seeds, silently making them more potent and hearty after all. 

One kindness deserved another. 

And when he returned, walking beside a unicorn laden with wood and carrying a pitcher of cow’s milk, on top of the milk she carried within, Aziraphale just shook his head, his incredulous smile warmer than the sun that lingered low on the horizon. 

Crawly didn’t tell him about the seeds, or the deal. He’d learn in time. “Nice folks, our new neighbors. You should go meet them next time. I have a feeling they’ll like you.” 

The children came running, wrapping themselves around his legs and staring up at the burdened unicorn with awe and delight. 

“Alright sprouts, figure out whose turn it is to be on baby duty so we can pile up the wood, and then I’ll show some of you how to milk the unicorn.” 

Aziraphale laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled. 

“If you’ll show me first, I can take over the teaching. Must have been quite the afternoon for you.” 

Carefully, Crawly reached up to rest his hand atop the angel’s, holding him to him gingerly. 

“Going to be a lot of long days. But I think we’ll be alright.” 

Aziraphale looked off, eyes sweeping over their little brood as they used hand games to decide who got which jobs. 

“You know, I rather think so too.”

[ineffable-human]

I really need to stop having theories at bed time

Okay so. I was thinking. Why don't the other angels call Crowley Crawley? Surely they don't care about a demons personal choice in name. Not with how rude they are to each other.

Then I was thinking about the scene in the sushi shop. When Gabriel brings up the name he's kind of like, unsure. Testing it out. Making sure Aziraphale is repsonsive to the name. And like, here's the thing. There are lots of ways for them to find out Crowley changed his name but (okay remember/look up the post about the earth observation files and how someone is watching them-mayve it gets report to Gabriel?) like Gabriel notices that Azi starts using the new names in reports. And like, I think that clearly Gabriel knows the two are fraternizing.

But, as they said, work gets done either way.

And Gabriel is using the name Crowley because he knows azi will respond more positively to him and everything if he does. Liek, yes angels are dicks in this, but in all honesty I think Gabriel is the least of them.

Like, okay okay just hear me out. Gabriel likes Aziraphale. He comes to earth and does all the weird human things Gabriel doesn't like and keeps and eye on things. He always reports on time and always does his job (or makes sure his job gets done at least). Aziraphale is a good angel and Gabriel respects that, being a good leader.

And just, just roll with me on this one, Gabriel likes Crowley. Gabriel is looking for closure from the fall. And here's this demon, going about saving an angel from trouble multiple times, performing blessings for him, making sure humans make miraculous escapes from the guns he gave them.

I think Gabriel has hope. I think Gabriel looks at Crowley and decides that there may be forgiveness and redemption for demons after all. I think that maybe, it's possible at least, that Gabriel is going into this war thinking it'll return everything to before. That good will triumph over evil and by doing so restore demons to their angelic ways (good fodder for some inneffable beuroceacy stuff here, I got u).

And he's so upset when Aziraphale and Crowley stop it cause he just! Wants! His! Angels! Back!

And personally I think he looks so stressed and a little tense in the heaven and fire scene. It's almost like he's playing a part, like he doesn't really want to kill Aziraphale (kill his hope in a sense) but he's also got everyone saying to do it and he really ought to be punished and all that nonsense.

And I think there's so much more worry to him when Aziraphale doesn't burn. On the one hand, he's worried like the others. Like oh my gosh he's still alive I'm scared what's going on.

But also? The opposite of what he wanted has happened. The demons didn't become angels. Crowley didn't turn good. Azi went bad. And he's terrified at that prospect.

And I like to imagine that Michael tells them about the scene downstairs and maybe Gabriel puts it together. Maybe he's just a little relieved. Maybe he starts to let himself hope again

Anyway wow sorry for the long post I just have a lot of feels about Gabriel tonight I guess

[wrangletangle]

Ok, but consider: Crowley takes the role of a trickster.

So we’ve got examples like Loki, Coyote, and the Monkey King, right? (and more, lots more) What are some things they have in common?

Terribly clever, the lot of them. Too smart, in many ways. Too curious. Fascinated with the world to the point of their own destruction.

“I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”

“Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.”

They usually prize wisdom and knowledge, even when the outcome is terrible. Some are self-sacrificing, like Prometheus. (Too staid, that Prometheus, but he had it where it counts.) Some just want to amuse themselves. (Reynard, you little scoundrel!) And some, like Sun Wukong, prefer to win and don’t mind raining a little destruction on their opponents in the process. What they are all absolutely against is any kind of stagnation or boredom.

“I didn’t really fall. I just, you know... sauntered vaguely downwards.”

“E-TEEEEERNI-TAAAAAAAY!!!”

Tricksters tend to wonder and worry about their place in the world. They usually have a sense of humor - often an absurd one - perhaps because they typically don’t fit in. Mischief, pranks, and sarcasm can act as a kind of armor over underlying uncertainty.

“Be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?”

“Glorious... tool.”

There is in most of them a mix of selfishness and selflessness that is uniquely human, contrasted against pantheons full of powerful beings who can feel a bit removed and unknowable. Often, tricksters side with humanity against those pantheons, though sometimes they oppose us. Either way, a trickster is relatable.

“Not the kids? You can’t kill kids!”

“We could go off together.”

“We’re on our own side.”

What differentiates a trickster figure from your standard antagonist or protagonist is probably some combination of wits and chaos. It’s the chaos part that really stands out on a narrative level, though. Many of them violate taboos at some point, and nearly all of them undermine the order of the world. Thieves and lovable rogues and occasionally even conscientious objectors.

[See: The M25, the phone system snarl, and googling yourself]

C:“Don’t your lot disapprove of guns?” A:“Unless they’re in the right hands. Then they give weight to a moral argument. I think.” C:“A moral argument? Really?” [2 minutes later] A:“There are people out there shooting at each other!” C:“Well, it lends weight to their moral argument.” [smirk] A:“They’re murdering each other?” C:”No, they aren’t. No one’s killing anyone. They’re all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.”

Let’s be honest: we love tricksters. They can be massively destructive, or they can bring untold blessings, but we love them either way. Because they also love. Maybe just themselves, or maybe more than that.

“Not like this. Not to destruction.”

“I lost my best friend.”

[See also: Crowley’s absolute and unreasonable love for his damn car, and his willingness to sacrifice it to the flames to save the world.]

Sometimes tricksters win. Sometimes they lose. Along the way, they make us laugh, they make us cry, they make us think.

“Oh Lord, heal this bike.”

“I won’t be forgiven. Not ever.”

“Why not put it on top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?”

And that is the point, I think, of a trickster figure. They’re there to shake up the order. To ask questions. To make messes. To make sense of chaos by giving it form and a tendency to backtalk.

“All I ever did was ask questions.”

“Crowley has something no other demons have: an imagination.”

Crowley is a trickster of the most ancient tradition.

[misssamericaschavez]

What’s Inside? (ASPTL Part - 1)

Pairings: Dean x Reader, OMC!Scott x Reader Warnings: physical and mental abuse, child birth, language, cheating, angst Summary: The reader works at a local diner trying to save enough money to leave her husband once and for all. What happens when all her plans of escape are put on hold because of a surprise pregnancy? Word Count: 1,100 A/N: This is a Waitress AU but I’ve changed a few things not too much but a couple things. Each chapter will be named after a song from the musical or the line of a song. The entire series is titled A Soft Place To Land mainly because that’s my favorite song from the musical and it just kind of called to me. That song was inspiration when making this series. I really hope you guys like this it’s been on my mind for a while. Song(s) that inspired this chapter (x)(x). Beta’d by @nighttimenooodle

You rinse your mouth out with Listerine attempting to kill the taste of vomit on your tongue. You can’t get sick, you have to work. Not working means Scott will be pissed that you’re not bringing in money like you should. Not working means you can’t hide money around the house. Not working means you can’t buy a bus ticket out of town to go to that pie making competition. Not to mention you could lose your job if you just don’t show because you may or may not be sick.

May or may not be? You better be sick. You hope like anything you’ve got food poisoning or with any luck you’ll just die. Knowing your luck though, the fact that you’ve yet to have your period yet coupled with your possible morning sickness means death won’t come as soon as you’d like it to. No, you’re almost positive it’s definitely not food poisoning. No use dwelling on what it possibly could be right now when you’ve got to get to work.

When you arrive, you head straight for the kitchen running past your boss to make your new daily pie. Pie making was something you always enjoyed, something you and your mother used to spend quite a lot of time doing together. Making pies always managed to calm you. You could always bake a pie filling it with all your problems and worries and at the end of the day when every slice has been sold it’s off your plate and on someone else’s. Yea, baking always made things easier. Closing your eyes, you imagine it. Deep shit blueberry bacon pie. Sugar butter flour. All the things you need to make a perfect pie. You start making the crust and then moving onto the filling. You’re so focused on the pie you don’t hear your boss yelling at you.

“Hello, did you hear me?” says your boss, Crowley. Your eyes snap up to his and you have to stop yourself from rolling them dramatically. “What’s the special today?”

“Deep shit blueberry bacon,” you say unfocused going back to your pie in front of you.

“Shit?” he asks glaring at you. “I don’t think I can write that on the menu.”

“Dish- I meant deep dish blueberry bacon,” you correct quickly. “Sorry.”

“Of course,” he replies huffing and rolling his eyes before walking out of the kitchen leaving you alone with your pie. How’d you get yourself into this? It had to be that night he got you drunk. You don’t sleep with your husband. He is not a good man so having sex with him barely ever happens. So it had to be that night. Of course he’d wait until you were drunk to fuck you without a condom. At least, you don’t remember him pausing to use protection. He’s so careless.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts you laugh at yourself. You’re being stupid. You have no clue if you even are pregnant. You go about your day as normal. Your regulars come and go and then there’s Samuel Campbell. He’s the owner and he’s terrible. He’s picky and if it’s not perfect he’s a pain in the ass to deal with. He’s practically senile so him yelling about shit that he didn’t ask for happens almost daily. 

You’d made it through half of your day without feeling sick, but when you turned the corner to go pick up an order your stomach started gurgling again. You grip the counter and try to swallow the feeling back down, but no such luck. You pass right by Jody as you run to the bathroom.

“Honey what’s wrong?” she calls after you. You ignore her and run straight into the bathroom and spill the contents of your lunch into the bowl. You hear the door open a couple seconds later and you look up to see Jody and Donna standing behind you in the doorway. “Oh no are you sick?”

“God don’t tell Crowley,” you say wiping your mouth. “He’ll send me home. I can’t afford not to work.”

“Well you can’t breathe on people’s food all sick,” Donna says watching you sympathetically. “You’ll get everyone in town sick.”

“I’m not sick,” you say before standing up and going to the sink to rinse out your mouth. “I wish I was sick I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my god,” Jody gasps walking up behind you rubbing your back.

“Oh honey I’m sorry,” says Donna watching you in the mirror behind the sink.

“I’m-” you start before you’re interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Ladies you have customers,” Crowley yells. “What the hell are you three doing in there?”

“Nothing,” you yell back. “Coming.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Jody says firmly giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze before walking out of the bathroom Donna trailing behind her. You continue your day and when it’s done you barely notice it goes by so quickly. Before you know it, you’re sitting outside the diner waiting for your husband to show up. Today he’s actually on time so you don’t get a chance to talk with Jody or Donna about the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He pulls up honking obnoxiously though he knows you can see him. He does this to embarrass you. When you get in the car, he takes the money you’ve earned for the day, shaking his head at how little you’ve made.

When you get home, you fix him dinner like you do every night and make small conversation. You say very little, but not too little or you might piss him off. If you say too much, he’ll interrupt you to talk about himself so you pretend to listen to him talk. When you’re tucked into bed, he rolls over kissing at your neck trying to coax you into sex. That’s what got you into this possible mess so you pretend to have already fallen asleep. He still tries thinking maybe if he keeps bugging you you’ll miraculously wake up and be in the mood, even though you’ve already told him you’re not interested.

When you hear his obnoxiously loud snores, you peel his arm off of your torso and tip toe into the living room. You find one of your hiding places under the couch and hide the money you managed to keep from Scott. You still hope with all your heart that maybe you’re not pregnant. Maybe just maybe things will go good for you for once. You have hope that maybe this pie contest you wanna enter will go well and you can win that prize money and get away from Scott once and for all. You hope, but when have your hopes ever gone your way?

The Negative

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean Girls

@nighttimenooodle @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @bunnywinchester @akshi8278 @deanandsamsbitch @thebikiniinspector @moonlightxhs @snowy-67 @chicagolove88

Wanna be tagged?

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: Who We Are/All Along the Watchtower (12x22/23)

Uhhhhhhhhh okay. I remember last season's finale was a big ol' anticlimax, although it did set up some potentially interesting ideas. This season finale was... is... I mean... not an anticlimax, let's just say that. Yikes. I'm going to review both episodes in this same post, but I'm going to break it up into sections.

Who We Are

Cons:

I know I complained about this in last week's review, but it bears repeating: Sam and Dean being trapped in the bunker really doesn't make sense. We didn't get any explanation here as to why Ketch thought that was a good idea. Like. What. Of course they got out. They just blew up a small part of the bunker, and they were free and clear. Oy. This felt like a bit of a wasted opportunity, also, in the sense that it took all of ten minutes for Sam, Dean, and Toni to escape from their near-death. There could have been more material with this, if they were going to go this route.

Toni agrees to help Dean try and un-brainwash Mary, but only with the promise from Dean that he'll let her get a head start so she can try and escape. Cool. Unfortunately, while Mary and Dean are both unconscious and hanging out in Mary's brain somehow, Ketch shows up and kills Toni. We don't actually get to see it happen, we just see Dean waking up and he notices Toni lying there with her throat slit. All of the baggage that they built up with Ketch and Toni... leads to nothing. I feel like this should have been a bigger moment somehow.

Pros:

For practically every season of this show up until now, I feel like the brothers have had to take turns being the myth-arc lead. Being the one who has to do the awesome thing to save the world at the end. The last two seasons have been Dean, Seasons Five and Eight were obviously Sam... you get what I mean. This year, Sam and Dean both had different quests, and they both pulled out major victories, sharing in the glory of winning the day. It was so refreshing to have Sam lead a battle, while Dean tapped in to his emotions to free his mother. Neither task felt more important than the other, and both were done with great pacing and care.

The opening scene where Sam, Dean, and Toni work to break out of the bunker was pretty cool. The way that this premise came about was obviously stupid, but whatever. I like how Sam had a solution that involved magic, and then when that didn't work, Dean came up with using sledgehammers, and then when that didn't work... the grenade launcher. The fact that they've been planting that all season is just so hilarious to me. Chekhov's grenade launcher. I love that Dean got a chance to finally do what he's been wanting to do since he laid eyes on that thing. So great. We also got a lovely little brother moment, where they despair at their lives ending in such a way. They always thought they'd go out in a blaze of glory. Dean laments the fact that recently, he thought they had it all. Cas, Mom, each other... and now it's all gone. This was a good way to establish their despair, so that the victories they achieved later in the episode had greater weight.

Once they escape from the bunker, they get a call from Jody. Their mother showed up to kill her. Luckily, Jody, with an assist from Alex, managed to subdue her and tie her up. God, I love Jody. I didn't think they'd be stupid enough to kill her, but after what went down last week with Eileen, I figured anything was possible. It was so great to see Jody and Alex, and we even got a mention of Donna (although, hey, where the heck was Claire during all of this?). The famous "kick it in the ass" line is said by Alex to Jody, as she wishes her adoptive mother well on her quest. Even better, Jody's presence in the episode is more than just a cameo. Here, we get to the part where Sam and Dean each have their own tasks to complete.

Sam rallies a group of hunters to take down the British Men of Letters, giving a rousing speech about how the American hunters are in the right. They know to follow their guts, and that hunting is more than just killing. This is a great moment of leadership for Sam. He falters a bit at the beginning, but then gives a speech worthy of Buffy Summers. I love all the callbacks here. We see earlier Dean on the phone with Garth, we get Walt and Roy showing up to help in the assault... apparently there are no hard feelings for the whole murder thing.

Sam and Dean have another emotional moment, when Dean says that due to his leg injury from the grenade launcher, he's not going to go with Sam and the others to take out the British. He'll stay behind and try to save Mary. The brothers share a hug, with Dean telling Sam to come back, and Sam promising that he will. They exchange a Winchester I love you: "Bitch." "Jerk." I love this moment because it encompasses so many things about their relationship. Dean knows Sam can handle this on his own, and so he takes a step back. He trusts Sam to do it right, and that's something Dean has had a really hard time with over the years. There's also the fact that this whole British Men of Letters plot started with Sam getting shot and tortured by them. It's very satisfying to me that in the end, Sam gets to be the one to lead the strike on their headquarters.

And it's a pretty bad-ass take-down, I gotta say. Some of the hunters do indeed fall on the assault, but the remaining ones manage to breach all the way through to Madame Hess, who tries to stop Sam from killing her by saying that he'll need the British Men of Letters to help take down Lucifer. Sam is shocked to hear that Lucifer has escaped, and that Crowley is apparently dead, but after only a moment's hesitation, he declines the offer to keep working for these lunatics. Hess reaches for her gun, but before she can do anything, Jody shoots Hess in the head, dropping her instantly. So. Cool. I'm glad Jody got to take the shot, since it shows just what an awesome hunter she truly is.

Meanwhile, Dean gets Toni's help hooking himself up to Mary's brain to try and break through her conditioning. The way they do this is just brilliant. Dean shows up in his childhood home. He sees baby Sammy, he sees himself as a toddler. And he sees Mary taking care of them. Dean talks to her, but she doesn't react. Dean eventually discovers that Mary is choosing not to acknowledge him or respond to him, so he forces her to acknowledge him by giving her this amazing speech. He tells her: "I hate you." He blames the entire messy life he and Sam have lived on the fact that Mary made that deal with Azazel all those years ago. He had to be a father and a mother to Sam in order to keep his little brother safe, and that wasn't fair. Eventually, however, he says that while he hates her... he also loves her. He can't help it. And he forgives her, because he's made deals to save the people he loves. He knows what that's like. He begs her to see him, to turn around and really look at him. They can start over. They can move past this and be a family again. Mary does seem to acknowledge Dean. They are then both pulled out of their connection by Ketch's arrival, and just as Ketch is about to kill Dean, Mary shoots and kills Ketch instead. Yes!

What's so brilliant about Dean's speech is that it's the buildup of his emotions during this whole season, and yet I don't think any of us really understood how he was feeling until this moment. His whole life, he felt abandoned by Mary. And knowing that she had been responsible in some way for her own death made it that much harder. And then Mary has miraculously returned, and what's the first thing she does? She leaves them again. This speech was also amazing because it mirrors what Mary must be feeling about herself. This is why she stayed away. She wanted to help, but she didn't want to be around Sam and Dean. She was just so ashamed of what she had done to them. Jensen Ackles knocked it out of the park in these scenes. Great acting. Great emotion. A+ resolution to the Mary Winchester story-arc of the season.

And things get even more lovely from there. Sam shows up as Dean and Mary are talking about moving forward as a family. Mary is worried that Sam won't be able to forgive her, but Sam quickly assuages that fear and pulls her into a hug. Dean, relieved and proud that Sam is back, goes in for a hug as well, and the three of them stand there in the bunker in a group hug. My heart exploded.

Ultimately, the first half of this finale was a better episode than the second. It may have been less of a finale, in that it didn't end on a giant cliffhanger, but it was good because it gave agency to Sam and Dean in a way that they've been missing for most of the season. They worked together, they worked separately, they both succeeded in their missions and came together at the end victorious. It was exactly what we needed to see before jumping in to a second hour, where things were ripped from their grasp quite firmly once again.

All Along the Watchtower

Cons:

I'll start with the smaller complaints before getting to the biggie. Another off-screen death of a recurring female character. Rowena is apparently no more, and judging by the charred remains, I'd say this one's going to stick. I feel like killing Rowena was pretty unnecessary, but more than that, it sucks that we don't even get to see her put up a fight first. Just like Ketch and Toni had all of this relationship drama that we didn't get to see play out, here we have Lucifer and Rowena, another fraught sort of partnership, and we don't get to see that resolve. Feels like a wasted opportunity.

I kept waiting to understand Crowley's motivation for keeping Lucifer out of the cage, and I feel like we never really got it. Sure, Crowley talked about how Lucifer humiliated him or whatever, and there was a nice moment where we learn that Crowley hates his job, as if we didn't already know that... but at the end of the day, Crowley came across as a total dumb-ass for not being able to handle the Lucifer situation.

Kelly never really solidified for me as a character. She spends the episode lamenting the fact that she'll die never getting to be a proper mother for her child, who she has named Jack. She paints his room, builds him a crib, makes him a video where she tells him she loves him... I get the sense that I'm supposed to be moved by all of this. Cas and Kelly have this relationship where it seems like Cas is really coming to care for this woman who is inevitably going to die. All of it feels lacking, somehow. I can't make myself care about Kelly, and I can't make myself care about Cas caring about her.

The episode ends with Sam running in to the room to see that Kelly is dead, sort of as an afterthought. He then follows some weird burning footprints up to the baby's room, where he sees a fully grown man with strange glowing eyes sitting in the corner. I'm not sure if I'm all that thrilled with another baby-turned-insta-adult. Didn't we just do that with Amara? Sigh. I'm trying to reserve judgment until I see what they do with this guy next year, but... c'mon, guys.

Supernatural is a show with many weaknesses, and one of those weaknesses is how it treats death. Let's just... talk about that for a second, here. I think for the most part, the characters who died in this episode are going to stay dead. Kelly is out. Rowena, probably out. Even Crowley... I think that actually may have been the end for him, and it was a good one. But Cas? I don't know if he's dead-dead, or just dead-for-now. And that's a problem. Am I supposed to be shocked and crushed that Cas has been killed? He's died several times on this show already, and he's always popped back up when the story wanted him there again. So there's a paradox, right? Because if I'm not supposed to believe that he's really gone, and he is really gone, then that death moment wasn't big enough to be a sendoff. And if he's not really gone, then I won't be surprised, and the effect of the moment itself doesn't work. I want Cas to be alive. Very badly. And if they do kill his character off permanently, I'm going to want something a lot better than what we got here.

Because, yeah, this is another thing - Why did Cas even bother going in to the alternate universe in the first place? Sam, Dean, and Crowley had this plan to seal Lucifer away in an alternate plane, and it looks like it would have worked. But at the last second, Cas comes storming in to pointlessly stab Lucifer. He comes back into our world through the rift, everybody smiles for half a second, and then Lucifer shows up again through the rift and stabs Cas, killing him. What was Cas doing? Why on earth would he have thought that a puny little angel blade was going to do anything against Lucifer? His motivations were totally unclear and completely stupid. I hate the idea of Cas dying because he made another bad decision. That seems to be the pattern. Cas does something dumb, it goes poorly, and everybody pays a price for it. If this show kills off Castiel, then it has got to be a lot more meaningful and epic than what I just witnessed.

Pros:

In the first half of the finale, Sam and Dean were able to take real initiative and be agents in the story for the first time in a while. In the second half, they were back to reacting to everything. Oddly, it worked perfectly. After an hour of triumphs, of defeating a season-long foe and getting the family back together, Sam and Dean watched as everything crumbled around them. They had a plan. They nearly executed the plan. And then they lost Crowley, a long-time ally, Cas, their dearest friend, and Mary, their only recently restored mother, all in the span of minutes. Frankly, it was chilling how much they went through in such a short amount of time. Having them be so helpless in all of this was a great way to set things up for next season. To have peace and victory so very close, and then have it all ripped away... ouch, ouch, ouch.

As I said, Kelly never did much for me as a character. However, I did like the moment when Mary and Kelly are sitting together while Kelly is in labor. It gives us a chance to see the bond of motherhood. Kelly is scared, but at peace with her death, as she is willing to die for her son. Mary knows what that feels like.

So, the real wrench in the proceedings comes into play as we introduce an alternate realty. Somehow, the unborn nephilim creates a portal that Cas goes through into an alternate post-apocalyptic wasteland. Cas later brings Sam and Dean in, and they meet an alternate version of Bobby, one who doesn't recognize them. Turns out, this is a world where Sam and Dean were never born, and they therefore didn't save the world. Sam, Dean, and Crowley quite cleverly perceive that this would be a way to trap Lucifer away from their world, as what Lucifer is after has already happened on this alternate plane. What I love about this is the possibilities it brings for the future. If Jack the nephilim has the power to open a portal to another dimension, could he do it again? Are there infinite dimensions? Could this be a way of bringing back virtually every character that has ever died on this show? If so, yes please. I remember when we were first introduced to the Darkness. I was hoping that we'd end up in a post-apocalyptic world for the next season, and really force things to the next level. That didn't happen. But maybe this time it will. Maybe this time we'll actually spend some significant time interacting with realms different from the original one. That could be really fascinating.

Also, Bobby. Just... Bobby. I'm so glad he showed up. He was as ornery and delightful as always, and his gun was named Rufus. Please let him reappear next season. Please.

Before we get to the serious stuff, a brief break to talk about my favorite comedic moments of the episode. We get a mention of "The French Mistake," the crazy world where Sam and Dean were actors, and as Dean remembers and says to Sam "you were Polish." Their line delivery was just great. Also, lots of funny moments with Crowley. When he first shows up, Dean just immediately punches him and is about to kill him, when Sam stops Dean, a bit half-heartedly. Dean and Mary both say "seriously?" Later, as Dean is despairing in the craziness of their situation, he says: "I don't even know where to start," and then suddenly Crowley just appears out of nowhere, and Dean says "Oh, come on!" Another great line read from Jensen. Humor is always very important to lighten the mood when it comes to such serious episodes.

Before all this shit goes down, Dean has a line where he says: "I have faith in us. You, me, mom, Cas, and... Crowley. Sometimes." This line is all the more depressing when you realize that Sam and Dean are about to lose all three of the other people that Dean just listed.

Cas. God, Cas. I wasn't thrilled with all the stuff with him and Kelly in this one, but I still really do love him. I love the fact that Cas and Dean basically act like lovers in the middle of a fight who are both trying to stow their crap to get on with more important things. Cas heals Dean's leg sort of off-hand, and Dean says that they'll work out their problems, just like they always do. It's lines like these that make Cas' death all the more difficult to bear. Setting aside my own hangups about this death, I did really appreciate Dean's reaction to it. Just... dead inside. Just... drops to his knees and doesn't even know how to keep going on. Again, we contrast Sam and Dean in their behavior with Cas. When Cas rushes through the portal to attack Lucifer, Dean is the one who shouts Cas' name and tries to run forward, while Sam pulls his brother back to the portal and to safety. After Cas dies, we have Sam, who looks terribly sad but then rushes off to figure out what happened inside the house with Kelly, and then we have Dean, who doesn't even make a move to follow Sam inside. He just stares at Cas and drops to his knees. This just breaks my heart.

Mary gets to punch Lucifer in the face with brass knuckles, and it's super awesome. She also gets trapped in an apocalyptic wasteland, which is less awesome. But does this mean we get to see Mary and Bobby team up in an alternate reality next season? That would just be everything I never knew I needed. Honestly. I don't have much to say about Mary in this second episode. She's amazing, and I hope that now that all her insecurities are behind her, she can come out the other side of this whole apocalypse thing a stronger person than ever.

Crowley. I love Crowley so much, but I really do hope that this is the end for his character. Because if so? Amazing. So amazing. To start off with, he goes to the Winchesters for help in defeating Lucifer, because he knows that he can count on them above all others. And then he ends this episode by killing himself to protect the world from Lucifer. Or, probably more accurately, to screw Lucifer over in his own personal vendetta. But do you know what? It's still a noble sacrifice! Earlier in the episode, he promised Sam and Dean a reward if they helped him stop Lucifer: he'd close the gates of Hell, meaning none of them would ever have to deal with another demon again, other than Crowley himself. He has realized that he hates his job. He's spent so long fighting to keep power that he forgot to notice how much he actually hated having it. I couldn't imagine a better resolution to this character we've known for so long. I've been saying for seasons and seasons now that Crowley should either become the final big bad, or die heroically in the quest to stop the final big bad, throwing in a last-minute redemption as he exits. And that's what this was. His final words are to say goodbye to Sam and Dean, which just... rip my heart out, why don't you? I know I'm supposed to be more emotionally connected to Cas' death, but it was Crowley's that tugged at my heartstrings. This truly feels like a fitting end to his character.

So... uh... yeah. Let's do a little death tally on these two episodes, shall we? How about just named recurring characters?

Toni Ketch Hess Rowena Kelly Crowley Castiel

Yikes? Especially yikes to Crowley and Cas, obviously. I've complained above about the impermanence of death in Supernatural. But even keeping that in mind, killing off two main characters in a single episode is very ballsy, especially with a show like this one, where the cast is so very teeny tiny to begin with. It's a risk that I really appreciated, and as I discussed above, I actually do hope that this is the end for Crowley. It would be such a fitting way for him to go. For Cas, I'm less convinced. I don't like the idea of him dying because he made yet another ill-advised move. It happened too quickly, and I think we all deserve a lot more out of the departure of this show's main non-Winchester character. Obviously, Sam and Dean will do what they can do to get Mary back. But what about Cas? I'm trying not to freak out, since I have to assume they can bring him back... Gosh, I don't know. I guess I'll leave it at that.

I'm glad we're getting a Season Thirteen. I'm not sure that Supernatural has actually been a good show in a very long time, but it's a show I take great comfort in. I still feel really connected to the characters and what happens to them. I'll be with this show til the bitter end, whenever that may be.

9/10