#good omentober day 12

[grishaversegirlblogger]

inktober day 12: spicey // crowley

I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG BLOG OMFG

im too poosay to venture into the nsfw space this early into my tumblr days so u guys get spicey by azi's standard today 😍😍

[arsillanola]

Good Omentober drawing challenge Day 12 - Crowley

Speedrun

Following these prompts My other drawings in this challenge

[valartyn]

Good Omentober, day 12 : Crowley 🐍

Challenge by @disaster-dog

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 12 - Crowley

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Crowley struggles without Aziraphale and he tries to ground himself while being plagued with thoughts of their arrangement. This is kind of a continuation from Day 11.

TW. Implied Death/Injury, Implied SH, Car Accidents

Falling out of love was something Crowley was simply unable to do, he decided. Every single thought he had was poisoned by something innately angelic and it felt like his chest was heavy despite his heart being ripped out of his chest and left laid bare on the floor of a dusty bookshop.

He’d been driving the Bentley for hours and found himself on the side of some backroad, surrounded by fields. He dropped his head, his forehead landing on the steering wheel and he opened the floodgates for what he thought was the first time ever. He felt hot tears streaming down his cheeks and despite being something so human, the warmth burnt worse than hellfire. 

“We could’ve been us!” Crowley screeched, his hands banging against the dashboard as his emotions took hold. He lifted his head to fumble with the tapes in the glovebox searching for something, anything that would force the angel out of his brain.

Every part of Crowley’s body was screaming to cling on to whatever was left of the angel but his heart wanted to push it all away and shut down. His eyes darkened as he realised that the only music he was Queen and even worse, in his glove box held a small golden pocket watch he was painfully familiar with. 

He picked up the watch and gripped it as tight as he could. Some part of him wanted to break it or throw it away but he felt magnetised to it. As he fiddled with the mechanism he felt himself calm slightly, the repetitive movement soothing some part of his soul. The tears were still hot and heavy, leaving a wet mark on his black top but it felt more cathartic now. A release.

Crowley, at least out loud, would never admit that he would always carry a part of the angel with him. He wanted to be the stoic, cynical demon he always was but the angel had changed him. He had softened around the edges and what were sharp thorns serving as a warning sign was now a slightly twisted stem on the rose that was his personage. 

He hastily wiped the rest of his tears away and slipped the golden item into his jacket pocket. He got out of the car in a rush, slamming the door behind him and he began to saunter down the road. While in reality he knew that there were fields and livestock around him, he felt like he was walking back through time with his angel beside him. His footfall felt light and the sounds his footsteps echoed, like there was another person walking there as well.

Even if some things were fuzzy, Aziraphale was preserved in his memory, perfectly crisp and soothing like a mountain spring. The tingling sensation remained on his lips from his collision with Aziraphale and it was those sensations that pulsed through his whole body and pushed him forward.

He remembered when Aziraphale handed him the holy water all those years ago. He couldn’t believe the angel would turn back on his hard stance on the matter purely to stop Crowley from doing something evil. In some ways, it felt like Aziraphale was preserving the hint of good that is inside of him. Thinking there was even a slither of goodness left a bitterness on his tongue.

He remembered being on the West End stage with Aziraphale and being terrified of discorporating his friend. At the time, that seemed like the worst possible fate. It felt juvenile, now, but as he held the gun pointed at his friend's face he was shaking like a leaf. The entire world slowed after he pulled the trigger and although Crowley feared the worst, he simply couldn’t look away. He never could stop staring at Aziraphale.

When he saved Aziraphale from the Nazi’s it was an entirely selfish endeavour. The demon had an unhealthy obsession with the angel and he’d been damned if Nazi’s of all things were what took him away. Choosing to save his books was just a little sprinkle to sweeten the proverbial pot. 

Crowley didn’t know when but at some point, saving the angel became less of a friendship and more of a matter of self-preservation. He’d gotten so tangled up in his love for Aziraphale that anything other than him was insignificant.

During the French Revolution he couldn’t rest until he’d saved Aziraphale. He tried to be mad at the angel for getting into trouble but deep down Crowley couldn’t get past the feeling of relief that Aziraphale was okay. He could’ve given anything to not feel that again.

Even when he thought back to Eden he didn’t bother with the details, he thought of the angel perched on the wall, fretting over his own morality. A wily serpent would never be enough to satisfy such a light and Crowley just cursed himself for not realising it sooner.

Before he’d realised he’d walked so far the Bentley wasn’t even in sight anymore and the sky had shifted to a comfortable dusk with the first few stars peeking through. He could barely see them through his sunglasses. Maybe he didn’t deserve to. Maybe the stars were only for angels anyway, that’s why the humans use it as a backdrop. 

Maybe things that are that beautiful are locked behind some inherent goodness that Crowley would never be able to achieve. That’s why Aziraphale had to leave. Aziraphale was the most beautiful when he was closest to Crowley. That’s why they had to take him away.

Crowley summoned the Bentley back to him and slumped back into the seat. He started the car and began to speed down the road. He would have to settle for a different kind of beauty if you could call it that. The kind of scene so mesmerising you couldn’t look away, even for a moment.

In the early hours of the morning, police arrived at the scene to find a Bentley wrapped around an old oak tree and somehow, against all odds, Queen was playing on the radio.

[sparrowsortadrawzzz]

Good Omentober, days 9 through 12!

[underground-monarch]

Good Omentober Days 11+12: Aziraphale and Crowley

i wanted to do more of a proper finished illustration for this one, but i just didn't have the time or energy so it's just a sketch

[highlyillogicalandroid]

Good Omentober, combo edition! Days 11 & 12: Aziraphale & Crowley.

What if Crowley told Aziraphale he was homeless after Armaggedidn't?

(This one's spicy, folks. You've been warned!)