#ineffable trainers

[caoimhe-from-hoenn]

Weird Pokemon Name of the Day: Karkat Vantas the Crabrawler

Also sorry for being gone the past few days, they+we caught the Zoroark causing trouble in town

[vidavalor]

The ineffable husbandry of Gabriel's outfit

It looks like that, when Crowley & Aziraphale finally got around to giving Gabriel something other than a tartan bedsheet to wear, they foraged him an outfit out of stuff that was within the bookshop, right? They were reluctant to miracle too much at the time and there's also no way Gabriel would be wearing something as normal as he was if Aziraphale had tasked Crowley with getting Gabriel something to wear lol. While Gabriel can pull off what they put him in, it's largely because Gabriel could pull off wearing a garbage bag. If you look at what he's actually wearing... while all the pieces are functional, they definitely look scrambled together from what was already there and don't make a lot of sense together otherwise. If one of them went out to get him something, the choices would have made more sense than the hodgepodge Gabriel ends up in... so, everything he has on is from within the bookshop.

If we presume that, then let your eyes go further than Aziraphale's spare work coat, trousers, and (the hilarious choice of) what is likely Aziraphale's Christmas Fair Isle sweater/jumper here...

There is no way on Earth that Aziraphale owns those sneakers/trainers. None. Zip. Zero lol. The tie is also 1970s/early 1980s-ish (and could not go less with that sweater lol) and is more Crowley's style than Aziraphale's. While the tie is older in style, the shoes are very current and even look relatively new. The only explanation here would then be that, if they foraged Gabriel's outfit from within the bookshop, when Aziraphale was pulling stuff out of his closet to make an outfit for Gabriel, his selection to choose from included random bits of Crowley's clothing going back decades.

Like the copy of 'The Crow Road' Crowley gives to Muriel at the end of the season, the shoes and tie are things that are hinted at in a way that makes them seem like they actually belong to Crowley and are mixed in with Aziraphale's stuff in the bookshop in plain sight. The Supreme Archangel-- who parallels both of them-- is actually wearing both of their clothes. What Crowley donated to the cause is especially amusing, symbolically, considering his early-season loathing of-- and history with-- Gabriel:

Crowley's tie:

and his shoes:

[nahokura]

I saw that were interested in making one shots or fun little mini comics and I saw Ineffable Husbands and now all I think about is....

Crowley and Aziraphale meeting as Pokémon trainers for some reason hahahhahaa!

I bet it would be so cute and it's just Crowley Motorbiking around with his pokemon and ends up lost in a smaller town and ends up meeting Aziraphale in a library or book shop with his pokemon (before you ask Crowley is strictly grass and fighting types while Aziraphale is psychic, fairy and normal types or at least it's my headcannon for them)

So do what you will with that and let me know if you come up with anything! ☆

Oh, I've got so many ideas.

Maybe making their relationship like the team Rocket? (Because I love them)

Making a mini comic ? YESS

(my comics are drawn on paper, I hope you don't mind)

Or make Crowley having a big ASS crush on him and the way Azi treats his pokemons

Crowley treating his pokemons like a queen

Btw, I've already drawn them as umbreon and sylveon not so long ago, sooooo...

[the-larxist-manifesto]

Whatnot ~ The long road to Saffron

Welcome to Whatnot, where I just kinda talk about random thoughts I'm having at the moment. Irl I say the phrase "... and whatnot" a lot—but do you ever wonder what exactly the whatnot is? That's what this blog will be.

I love me a good, long journey. I don't always know what decisions will lead me to a worthwhile journey, but the best ones tend to arise from spur-of-the-moment ideas and just saying "sure, let's give it a try." For example, this whole GameGirl31 project. Nintendo added GameBoy games to NSO, I noticed how few of the titles I recognized, and I decided it could be a unique challenge to play them. It is now setting in exactly how much time this will take me.

Pokémon Yellow, for instance. I don't know this particular generation super well, but I understand the Pokémon formula well enough. Despite this, more than 20 hours have been dedicated to this playthrough so far. I've only earned four gym badges (five if you count the one I skipped, accidentally?), meaning I'm about halfway through the experience. Just stating the facts here. We can imagine what the timer will read by the end.

I'm actually playing a session right now, taking a break in the middle to write this entry. I left off in the middle of route 14. In-game, I've been really wanting to return to Vermillion City because, about five hours back, I managed to completely avoid fighting Lt. Surge and then leave without the badge I need. That being said... five hours later, I couldn't be stuck on the more opposite side of the Kanto region. There is no quick way back to Vermillion from Fuchsia. I can only press forward. And the next leg of the journey is... the long, long road to Saffron City.

So, I packed as many hyper potions and ultra balls as I could into my trainer bag, and then started on the road. The journey is so long that it's actually made up of 5 separate routes.

Map; for reference, the path between any two cities in the Kanto region averages 1 to 2 routes

I can feel the length of the journey as I begin dismissing the possibility of travelling back to Fuchsia City for the Pokécenter. I'll just have to rely on the resources I've got. The only things to be found along these routes are other traveling trainers and the occasional patch of grass.

I've complained in the past about this game looking kinda ugly, in the graphics department. The overworld sprites are quite simplistic. The colors are limited. Often, it feels like I'm just staring at pencil lines etched in a white void. Yet somehow, the simplicity of the landscape around me as I bike the miles of this road... a true sense of distance sets in. DUCKIE is so far away from home. She's so far from anything that even resembles home. Only passing blades of grass, bushes, a small forest, abandoned fence posts... lines etched into the world by nature itself.

And then I read a sign.

Route 14 / West to Fuchsia City

There's something very haunting about a sign that only points you in one direction. Dead end. One way. Do not enter. Or maybe a highway sign that names a city you've never heard of about 50 miles away. This sign didn't tell me I was going anywhere. It only told me the quickest way back to civilization.

For those who don't know, in my actual life, I recently drove over 3,000 miles across the United States—nonstop except to sleep and eat, over the course of 6 days. It was another one of those decisions that felt so much smaller when it was just an idea in my head. Then I got into the car and drove away from my house, for once with no intentions of coming back. Then I crossed my first state border. Then I passed one last small town. Then, only the lines of rock and shrubs etched in the world around me.

I saw a lot of signs like this one on the long drive. Route 14 / West to Fuchsia City. It's just a practical sign to put up. A statement of fact as to where the nearest market would be, for instance. Yet something about it ineffably reads like a warning.

Subtle game design choices like this leave an impression on me like nothing else. The developers could have written "Road connecting to Saffron City," like they did with every other sign in the game. They could have put up no sign at all. But they chose this sign. I don't know; that made this world feel so much more real to me. And once again, for the first time ever, I think the simplicity of the graphics in this game do a great service to the tone and worldbuilding at this leg of the game. The same scenery passing you by over and over again. Eventually blurring into abstract lines etched in the void. You have grown so much as a trainer, to make it this far all by yourself. This is what it feels like to be far from home. It feels sickeningly lucid to become so aware of the bigness of the world.

That's a feeling only video games can give you, baby! And that's why video games are art, as if I even had to argue that. But who knew such strong emotions could come from a game that looks like... this?

Go on, guess which Pokémon that is. I bet you can't.

And so, I'm actually pretty excited for the long journey to Saffron City. It is, after all, just a small part of the long journey to beating Pokémon Yellow. Which is, of course, only a small part of the long journey to play 31 GameBoy games!

Well, at least for these journeys, I don't have to sleep in my car. :p

That's it for this edition of Whatnot! Too niche for GameGirl, but stuck out too much in my mind not to write about. I hope to do a lot more of these in the future (including non-video game stuff, ideally). Ta-ta for now~

[positivepumpkin]

Working on Gomens Pokemon Au

So far I’ve got a few ideas on who has what pokemon and a basic premise/loose plot.

So, in this au there’s two teams ala ruby/saphire magma/aqua. The teams are Team Fallen and Team Risen. Both are bad dudes for different reasons. 

Team Fallen:

Similar to Team Snagem and Cipher, these guys are stealing pokemon and using them as weapons. They’re experimenting on them, trying to make them corrupt and frankly, devilish. The pokemon are, in a word, rabid. They’re violent and bloodthirsty enough to kill, instead of faint. They’ve also taken to experimenting on some of their human members in attempts to put the power of pokemon into them.  Team Risen:

Think they’re better than anyone else, when really they just use pokemon for their own gain. Very impersonal and cold towards pokemon, thinks of them as tools/status symbols/means to an end. They regularly recruit promising trainers to fight against Team Fallen.  Anthony J Crowley: 

Battling Team: Honchkrow, Houndoom, Milotic

Companion Pokemon: Budew (later Roselia)

When Crowley started out as a pokemon trainer he got a Snivy for his starter. While out exploring, looking to catch more pokemon, he came across a rabid zigzagoon. He didn’t know what was wrong with it, just that he wanted to catch it so he could take it to a Pokemon Centre. Things quickly went wrong when the zigzagoon turned out to be much stronger and knowing moves it shouldn’t. Snivy is quickly fainted, but the zigzagoon doesn’t stop. Desperate to save his pokemon, he tries to intervene himself, but is knocked out when the zigzagoon attacks him with U-Turn and flees. He wakes to find his Snivy dead.

Team Fallen finds him, having seen the corrupt zigzagoon, they kidnap him and indoctrinate him into their Team. It takes years before he gets another pokemon. A young Murkrow who fell from his nest and injured it’s wing. He takes care of it and nurses it back to health, but when he goes to release it, it stays. They train together, but Crowley doesn’t like to battle, always recalling his pokemon before they can faint, calling matches early. 

But now that he has a pokemon, Team Fallen starts sending him out to steal pokemon. Rather than steal them for Team Fallen, he rescues pokemon from bad situations. He picks up a Houndour that was kept chained up with a too tight collar and let outside 24/7. Crowley works with it, it’s touch and go for a long time, and Crowley still has scars from Bites and Embers, but it eventually becomes extremely loyal to him. It doesn’t let anyone touch it except for Crowley, and eventually Aziraphale.

The Feebas, he takes from a person who put it in a too-small bowl. The poor thing’s scales are dingy and it’s got anxiety from not being able to hide/move for so long. It takes a lot of pampering and working with, but eventually it’s scales shine once more and it evolves. Crowley is pleased/thrilled to bits, and excitingly tells it that it can be free, find itself a life in the ocean, but Milotic isn’t having it. 

The last pokemon he picks up, is a poor little Budew. It’s leaves have burn spots in them and the little guy is extremely skittish. It’s terrified of Crowley, who has to yell and curse and wrestle the plant pokemon into submission in order to tend to it. The Budew tries to sneak out one night to get away from this crazy human, and finds him talking to Hastur. Hastur, who wants Crowley to stop wasting his time with Budew and just, throw it out or let it die already. Crowley fiercely defends Budew, causing the little plant to become enamored with Crowley. When it’s all healed up, Crowley takes it back to the place he found it, hoping to find it’s family, but when he leaves, Budew follows. It can usually be seen following behind Crowley, occasionally bumping into his legs when Crowley stops walking. 

Aziraphale:

Aziraphale got a Swablu when he was real young, mostly by accident. He’d been sitting near a berry bush, when he saw a spot of cloud-down. He offered some of the berries he’d been idly snacking on and a tiny ball of floof hopped out and quickly ate some before retreating into the bush again. Several days of this, of Aziraphale visiting the bush and feeding the Swablu ended with it coming home with him one day. They’ve been inseparable ever since. 

His second pokemon is a Magikarp. Since he already had Swablu, he didn’t get a starter pokemon like other kids. He found the magikarp in the shallows of a river, flopping pathetically as other trainers made fun of it for being weak, daring the others to ‘waste a pokeball’ catching it. Aziraphale stood up and told them off, before catching the Magikarp himself. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with being weak, he thought Magikarp was a fine pokemon. After battling with Swablu and training, Magikarp evolves into Gyarados. Aziraphale regularly takes him to a pokemon pool, so he can play with other water types and stretch out, there he runs into a Milotic, and the two fall in love. (They try repeatedly to get their owners together)

His third pokemon is a Dedenne, whom he finds hiding in the walls of Team Risen’s base. The little mouse has been pilfering food, chewing through cables, sapping electricity from outlets, and just being a nuisance. Aziraphale thinks it’s adorable, with it’s round cheeks, stuffed with berries. He offers to take the pokemon as his own, instead of fainting it and releasing it like Gabriel wants. 

His last pokemon, he finds eating out of the Team Risen dumpster. It’s a Munchlax, just gorging itself on garbage. He thinks, no, this won’t do, and takes the pokemon inside for a proper meal. The Munchlax just, never leaves. 

[the-flying-beetle]

Can you tell me anything about your Pokémon oc

BOY CAN I

brace yourself!

their name is Theda, like my own (when i started playing i really didnt think id be self inserting this hard… turns out im boo boo the fool)

they’re genderfluid and bisexual

their favourite types are ghost and fairy

their favourite town other than Spikemuth is Ballonlea!

they’re a hopeless romantic, both somewhat reclusive and bad at hiding feelings

strong emotions, cries easily, anxious, but calm and competent in truly critical situations or when others start to panic

takes leadership position when nobody else will, and is deadly serious about such responsibility

they’re originally from circhester and moved to wedgehurst with their parents when they were about 6

met zamazenta once as a child when they were playing knights in the slumbering weald

after becoming champion (about the same age as Piers, a little younger maybe) they started a project to recover, preserve and research artefacts (other than the rusted ones of Zacian and Zamazenta) as well as fossils

used their champion money to buy the fifth tapestry off that restaurant chain and have it put in the vault

raihan and them are coworkers on everything concerning storage and cataloguing in the vault (they got him to do that via a public bet and battle. just in case he might say no)

(they also made him stop using weather effects in the room where the tapestries are kept)

where as champion, Leon looked towards the future, Theda cares deeply about learning from the past (so that that future can be bright)

they love to sing and are just starting on the violin (also drawing, cause i can’t really imagine not being able to do that)

there was a fundraising concert with them and Piers to raise money for their project and Spikemuth

they made a pact to each get a piercing if the gig was a success, so Theda got a second one on their right ear and Piers got one through his tongue

they do most of their digging themselves, responsibly

especially when there’s ruins around, ghost pokémon get in the way, but Theda is quite good with them as they’re empathetic to the enraged types, respect boundaries and find ghosts to be a hopeful little rebellious thing against the finality of death rather than disturbing

they dislike using pokémon as means to an end, so their team is friends only

this goes so far as that they are reluctant to even catch pokémon via pokéball. they regret doing so in the past and would now slowly build up a friendship by regularly offering the pokémon berries instead of snatching it away

some of their closest pokémon companions are Babie the Corviknight, Ligeia the Chandelure and Garbageboy the Impidimp

occasionally goes looking for specific ghosts and afterlife related paranormal activity and brings piers

that was too much, wasn’t it. yeah. anyway quite some of this will in one way or another influence the art I’ll post, so! now you know, ahead of time. is it noticeable i’m writing this as fanfiction? nahhhhhh

thank you for asking 🖤

[mcmeao]

i just galaxy brained so hard omg

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Dark Pit, sound asleep: …

Leaf: *enters the room and walks over to him* Wake up, sleepyhead~

Dark Pit: *stirs slightly, then opens his eyes* Huh? Oh… Good morning, Leaf.

Leaf: It’s noon, actually.

Dark Pit: W-Wait, oh, crap, did I sleep in?

Leaf: Yeah. I came to wake you up. *gently pulls him into a sitting position* Now let’s go.

In another room…

Galeem: *bursts through the door* IT’S 12 PM, GET THE HELL OUT OF BED! *blares an air horn*

Dharkon: *shoots out of bed with a shriek* AAAAAAAAAH I’M UP I’M UP!

[scapegrace74-blog]

Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 8

A/N  Thank you for your patience while I worked out some issues with this chapter.  I hope that you’re as happy with how it turned as I am!  It ends with a bit of a cliffhanger, but the good news is that I’ve got part of Chapter 9 already written.

For those who have asked about the inspiration for Jamie and Claire’s routine, you can find a video of it here.   The move I’ve dubbed the “death spiral” starts at 1:12.

Previous chapters can be read here. 

Over the course of his years as an athlete and aerialist, Jamie had noted there were two types of performers.  There were those who excelled at the physical aspect of their jobs. Technically proficient, they drew joy and inspiration from the perfection of each move and sequence.  The audience’s enjoyment was an unintended consequence of their own focus on execution in its purest form.  He counted himself and most of his peers amongst this group.

Then there was the rarer specimen.  No less physically adept, their motivation was the audience.  Put them in an empty room and their performance would suffer.  But in front of spectators, they outshone the spotlights, bringing something ineffable to the stage that could neither be taught or contrived.

Witnessing Claire Beauchamp perform to a sold-out tent of rapt Japanese spectators, Jamie understood once and for all just how rare a jewel she was.  For while she had learned and then mastered the physical discipline that was the aerial straps with astonishing ease, her performance was on an entirely different level now that they were on tour.  

Night after night their act, placed just before the intermission of Tropico, drew a crescendo of sighs and gasps as Jamie lifted, twirled and spun Claire through the air like an iridescent feather.  His body was the podium on which to display the art that was his partner, and he’d never been more honoured to play a supporting role. She deserved every accolade, so when the klieg lights blazed for their second curtain call, he took a large step backwards, gesturing to Claire and bathing in pride as the typically reticent Japanese crowd acknowledged her with thunderous applause.

***

I had been to Japan once before, a three day stay while touring with the Royal Ballet.  We’d been entertained from morning to night, but my jet-lagged memories blurred Shinto shrines, imperial palaces and outdoor tea ceremonies into a chaotic cherry blossom slide show.

By contrast, the three weeks spent in Tokyo with Cirque des Étoiles left plenty of time for personal exploration, even with eight weekly shows and our regular curriculum of strength training and stretching.  With over two hundred artists, stagehands, musicians and supporting personnel, we took over a large hotel not far from where the touring big top was set up in Yoyogi Park, which meant all of downtown Tokyo and its eternal hum was at our doorstep.

Once my internal clock had adjusted, I developed a bit of a routine, rising early to walk the tree-line paths in the nearby park.  While the winter branches were bare, it was still an oasis of tranquility in the middle of one of the world’s largest cities. After breakfast, I joined one of the group Pilates sessions before making my way to the hotel gym where the physical trainers put me through my paces.  That left a handful of hours of leisure before I needed to report to the big top for costume and make-up.

“Did ye ken fugu is the Japanese word fer puffer fish, Tourist? Tis considered a delicacy, despite being more deadly than cyanide if it’s no’ properly prepared.”

And through it all, there was Jamie.  Always Jamie.

He was standing in the doorframe of my hotel room, nearly obscuring my view of the hall.  His hair was damp, darkening his curls to the colour of myrhh.  A subtle sniff yielded a whiff of sage and tree sap, the remnants of his post-workout shower in the room next door.

Either by design or cosmic happenstance, Jamie and I were placed in adjoining rooms.  By and large, this was very convenient as we spent most of our free time together.  It was only late at night, body weary but nerves jangling from another magic experience soaring through the air in his arms, that the convenience turned to torment.  Through the wall, I could hear Jamie going about his nightly routine, talking quietly on the phone to his family, settling into the mattress with a greedy sigh.  It took all my will power not to knock on the connecting door, knowing as I did that on the other side lay a promise of paradise.

“I’m pretty certain our employer would take exception to us eating potentially deadly fish, Fraser,” I smirked, returning to the search for an umbrella as Jamie flopped down on my bed.

“Ye’re probably right.  What about regular sushi, then?  Yi Tien was tellin’ me about a place he tried the o’her day.”

I made a vague affirmative noise as I continued to open and close drawers and peer beneath the bed.

“What are ye lookin’ for?”

“My umbrella.  I swear I hung it up in the closet yesterday, but it’s not there.”

Jamie glanced towards the window, a rogue curl falling rakishly over one eye.

“Tis barely a smirr.  Ye dinna need one.”

As it turned out, Jamie’s definition of a smirr involved us having to hop around puddles and duck under awnings as we ran, laughing, to a nearby office tower.  We were both quite damp as we descended, paradoxically, into the basement where there were a handful of small shops.  Jamie ushered me through the door of one of these with a shrug, and we entered another world.

A tiny Zen garden of rocks and bamboo greeted us.  I was now familiar with the Japanese custom that dictated we remove our outdoor footwear before entering any private space.  Jamie cursed as he tried to jam his massive feet into the modestly sized slippers provided by the restaurant.

“Look on the bright side,” I teased him as a kimono-clad hostess led us to our table.  “You can tell everyone that you’re big in Japan.”

“I’m big pretty much everywhere, Tourist.”  An awkward beat.  “Uhhhh, that didna come out quite right,” he hastened to add with a blush.

I could feel the colour rush to my own cheeks as I valiantly tried to stifle my giggles. I should have taken pity on Jamie’s Freudian slip, but I found I couldn’t.  Having spent a significant amount of time pressed intimately against his body, I also knew it wasn’t an idle boast.  Jamie glared at me playfully, but I caught the corner of his mouth pleating.

We were ushered into a small room divided from the rest of the restaurant by rice paper screens.  Watching all six feet four inches of muscular Scot try to fold his limbs on the tatami mat in such a way as to allow him to approach the low table set off my giggles again.

“Ye’re having a great deal o’ fun at my expense, Tourist,” Jamie grumbled good naturedly after our hostess left with a graceful bow.

“I can’t help it.  You’re like Gulliver in Lilliput!”

As it turned out, Gulliver’s Travels was one of Jamie’s favourite childhood stories and my comment initiated a conversation in which we lobbed the names of beloved books and authors at each other, finding we had a great many in common.

The sushi was undoubtedly good, although I had no recollection of what we ate.  What I did recall, long after we’d left Japan, was watching Jamie struggle with his chopsticks while he regaled me with a boyhood anecdote about digging his very own hobbit hole on his family’s estate.  There were raindrops scattered across the shoulders of his denim shirt, turning the fabric the exact same shade as his eyes.

***

Touring with Cirque des Étoiles was grueling work.  It sounded idyllic, travelling from place to place and experiencing local culture while performing to sold out audiences night after night.  There came a time, however, where Jamie just wanted to watch some television in a language he understood, make a proper home-cooked meal, and sleep in his own bed.

Fortunately, the Cirque planned each tour around the very real risk of performer burnout.  Which was why, after their five-week run in Hong Kong was over, Tropico went on one-week hiatus.  Performers had the option of flying home, taking a local vacation, or moving on to the Cirque’s next locale and waiting for their colleagues to catch up to them.

“Have ye ever been tae Bangkok, Tourist?”

Claire was rummaging through a stall of trinkets in the local night market, searching for a suitable souvenir.  Steam from a nearby cart selling roasted chestnuts was making Jamie’s wame rumble and he wondered if he could convince his partner to take a break from her treasure hunt to grab a bite to eat.

“No, never.  Have you?”

Finally settling on a jade figurine in the shape of a cat, Claire began to haggle with the vendor over the price.  Jamie watched on in amusement as she used her expressive hands and the calculator on her phone to arrive at a price that both she and the store owner pretended was an expedient hardship.  Her cheeks were flushed with victory as she joined him back on the street and he could finally answer her question.

“Aye, on a weekend break when Quitan passed through Hanoi a few years back.”

“Well, you can give me some pointers before you leave.  I’ll have a whole seven days to explore, after all. Is everything alright with your arm?”

Without realizing it, Jamie had been rubbing his wrist.  A nervous gesture, he supposed.

“Oh, aye.  Nothin’ tae fear, Tourist.”

He was quiet as they navigated the tightly packed pedestrian street, lights strung overhead making it as bright as day.  There was something he’d been meaning to ask Claire, but he’d been putting it off and now it felt like it was almost too late.

“You’re going to Phnom Penh, right?” she asked while they leafed through a selection of Chinese calligraphy on vellum, the chop marks bright red against their pale backgrounds.

“For a few days, aye.  I’ll be spending most of the time in Siem Reap.  Seeing Angkor Wat, y’ken?”

“Sounds lovely,” Claire replied, although to his ears it sounded half-hearted.

Jamie glanced sideways at his partner, trying to read her expression. She was so lovely, lustrous skin reflecting the sodium lights and hair curling wildly in the humidity.  Doubt sharpened its teeth on his insecurities, but he shoved it away and drew a fortifying breath.

“Tourist, I’ve been meanin’ tae ask ye… and ye dinna need feel obliged…but would ye…that is, could ye see yerself…ifrinn, what I’m tryin’ tae say is, would ye consider comin’ tae Cambodia wi’ me?  As my friend?”

Claire stopped walking and was staring up at him, her eyebrows furled in consideration.  Nearby, someone set off a firecracker that had them both flinching.

“As your friend,” Claire clarified, managing to sound both relieved and disappointed.

“Aye.  I enjoy yer company, Tourist, as ye ken well.  T’would be a more enjoyable break if ye came wi’ me.  Plus, I wouldna need tae worry about ye in Thailand all alone.  I’m stayin’ in budget hotels.  There’s sure tae be another room available.  And we can always explore Bangkok t’gether later, between shows.”

The certainty returned to those honey-gold eyes that haunted his dreams.  A strong hand, delicate and warm, linked with his own.

“Together.”

***

Our hotel in Singapore was arranged around a massive rain tree, with each guestroom facing an interior arcade.  While this made for a pleasant view each morning, it also meant a long walk from the lobby to my door.  I was coming around the final corner when I caught sight of John Grey entering a room about halfway down the hallway.  There was nothing unusual about this except that I was fairly confident my former partner’s room was on a different hallway.   In fact, I was certain the room he’d gone into belonged to Clarence Marylebone.

When I’d first realized the artistic director was on tour with Tropico, I’d expressed my surprise to Jamie.

“Tis no’ as unusual as ye may think,” Jamie had said between mouthfuls of udon.  “A circus show is ne’er a finished work.  Routines evolve.  Talent changes.  Even the costumes and music may need to be adjusted tae accommodate cultural norms.”

His explanation made sense, and it was the last time I’d given much thought to the pompous playboy getting a free ride around East Asia.  Until now.

I desperately wanted to tell Jamie what I thought I saw, but he and John had only just begun to mend their frayed friendship.  Without any way to confirm what John might have been doing in Marylebone’s room (although I could guess), I kept the incident to myself.

The following Sunday was a rare night off and some of the troupe went out on the town to celebrate.  Ever since we’d returned from Cambodia, I had noticed the other performers treated Jamie and I like a couple, always assuming we’d want to sit together at breakfast or share a taxi to the circus grounds.  We were no more a romantic couple than we had been before we left for Cambodia, but I certainly wasn’t going to set them straight.  As Jamie had implied, it was only a matter of timing.

“Rickshaws!”  Mary, typically soft-spoken, had consumed a fair number of Singapore Slings, and was therefore shouting animatedly at anything that caught her eye.

“Let’s take them back to the hotel,” I suggested, not particularly interested in navigating the uneven cobbled streets in my slingbacks.

“Let’s race them back to the hotel,” Mary countered.

There were three rickshaws and nine of us, so logic dictated three per bike.  Mary dragged me into the nearest one, with Jamie at my heels.  Before he could climb in, however, I grabbed Yi Tien Cho and pulled him up next to me.

“Tired o’ me already, Tourist?” Jamie joked, his eyes smoky in the dim light.

“No offence, Fraser, but you weigh more than three Yi Tien’s. And if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I hate to lose!”

With a hail of laughter, our driver accelerated away, motivated no doubt by Mary’s offer of a generous tip if we outpaced our colleagues.

“Come on, Jamie, jump in with us!” John cried from another rickshaw.

Watching over my shoulder I felt a warmth that overpowered the glow of alcohol observing Jamie and John, giddy as schoolboys, crying out encouragement to their driver.  The incident surrounding Marylebone’s hotel room faded from my mind as I listened to Jamie’s booming laugh echo across the narrow street.

***

My partner had been acting oddly all day.  After months in each other’s back pockets, we’d recently spent a week apart when Jamie travelled home to Scotland, and I visited with friends in Sydney.  He seemed happy enough to see me again when we regrouped in Melbourne but had since grown quiet and distant.  The previous night I heard him tossing and turning through the thin shared wall of our hotel. The water from his shower turning on woke me in the early morning hours.  Perhaps he was jetlagged.

I resolved to give him space.  Jamie worked incredibly hard, with an intensity that was almost frightening. If that made him moody from time to time, so be it.  Instead of inviting him on my afternoon visit to the St Kilda Botanical Garden, I slipped out quietly while he was conferring with Roland, one of the staff physiotherapists.

That night Jamie’s smile when we met backstage for our warm-up was radiant, and possibly a touch relieved.

“There ye are, Tourist.  Ye look beautiful.”

To my everlasting surprise, Jamie bent down and placed a tender kiss on the shell of my ear, one of the few places not artfully decorated in stage make-up.  I was wearing the same costume he’d seen me in for the past three months, but I tingled all over in pleasure nevertheless.

“Uhhh, thank you.  So, umm… so do you.”  Dressed as Marylebone’s vision of a noble savage, my partner wore little more than a loin cloth and some artfully applied vine leaves, but his perfectly formed body was beauty incarnate, so I wasn’t exaggerating.        

Jamie’s grin was reaching mythical proportions.  Before we could continue to stare at each other like addled simpletons, our five-minute call crackled over the stage director’s walkie talkie.

“Time tae get tae work,” Jamie said ruefully.  “Let’s make it one fer the ages, a’right partner?”

“You’re on,” I replied, placing my hand in his as we went to our marks.

And it was.  Whatever had dampened Jamie’s mood had passed like a thunderstorm, leaving him charged and utterly magnetic.  My afternoon spent surrounded by nature, the relief of seeing Jamie return to his usual sanguine self, his unexpected kiss; they all combined to lift my spirits and send a wash of endorphins through my veins.  Together, we were magic.  Every touch, every gesture was a perfectly struck note, humming in the air around us until I was convinced I could hear it.

So attuned was I to Jamie’s body that I knew something was amiss before it happened.  He was lowering me around his body like a hula hoop using his stronger left hand in preparation for the move I’d dubbed the death spiral.  One millisecond he was securing his grip on my ankle and the next I was being heaved skyward in an act of super-human strength.  Instinct forced me to grab for the loose strap where I clung for an endless second, staring at Jamie’s stricken face in disbelief. Before I could even make sense of what had happened, he was gone.  A sickening thud was the last thing I heard before pandemonium erupted.

Someone was shouting at the audience to stay calm.  A high-pitched wail sounded like a siren but turned out to be rising from the very pit of my stomach.  I peered downwards, searching madly for some sign that Jamie had survived the fall, but the stage lights blinded me.  My strap was lowered slowly, far too slowly, to the stage.  No sooner had my feet touched the ground than I was rushing to where Jamie lay, a motionless bulk surrounded by stagehands and the staff medic. I pushed someone aside to kneel by his head.  When I saw his marine blue eyes were open, I bent forward, unable to contain my relief.

“Jamie?”  My hands fluttered near his face, afraid to touch him anywhere he may have been hurt. I settled for brushing back his curls where they clung to his damp forehead.

“He’s dislocated his shoulder,” I heard the medic advise, and one glance at the gruesomely distorted joint confirmed this was true.

“Hold still, Jamie.  They’ll need to pop the bone back into place.”

I had to lower my head even further to make out his voice, more shape than sound.

“I dinna have. Much choice. In the matter. Tourist.  Got the wind. Knocked fair out o’ me.”

The fact that he was able to joke, however feebly, when he probably should have been dead broke the icy dam that was holding back my emotions. They rushed out in a flood, and the swiftest was anger.

“What the hell was that stunt you just pulled, Jamie?  You could have been killed!”

His eyes were growing unfocused with pain, each breath a ragged pant, but he still managed to answer.

“Promised ye.  I wouldna. Let ye.  Fall.”

His words hit me like a slap.

“Such a bloody hero,” I groaned, unable to hold onto my anger in the face of my gratitude.

“No’ a hero, Tourist.  Jes.  A man in love.”

[holycatsandrabbits]

Part 18 of Giant Post of Completed Good Omens Human AU’s: September 2022

Thank you to all the creators who bring us so much joy AND to the readers who support the creators! <3

Also! A searchable list of all of my Good Omens human AU recs.

You can use it to find fics where Aziraphale is a librarian, or fics with Ineffable Wives, etc.

More of my Completed Good Omens Human AU Recs on Tumblr

More Good Omens recs from me here: Dannye's fic recs and Dannye's artist recs

And here's me: Ao3 ~ DannyeChase.com ~ Linktree ~ Upcoming fics ~ Serial romance

**************

Series: (not all of these series are complete)

Billy Joel AUs (in no particular order) by @journeytogallifrey Rated T (Series contains unrelated fics: 1. Pianist C works in the gay bar A owns; 2. C & A are childhood friends)

Caedmon's Fergusverse by sheendav, with an OC by @caedmonfaith (Ao3 Caedmon) Rated T-E (C & A are introduced by a helpful friend in common)

Single Fics:

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by by @mirjam-writes (Ao3 MirjamOmens) 6471 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

An Arrangement of True Minds by @sodiumazideandothertoxins (Ao3 Sodium_Azide) 12,539 words, Rated T (C & A are in an arranged marriage)

because thinking makes it so by @naromoreau and @summerofspock 41,386 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Best Laid Plans by @arielavader 36,538 words, Rated E (C & A are college students)

Black and White Sunshine by @aziraamane (Ao3 Azira_Amane) 58,475 words, Rated E (A meets C on a work trip)

Body Man by @caedmonfaith (Ao3 Caedmon) 45,875 words, Rated E (C is assistant to writer/showrunner A)

Climb Every Mountain by @naromoreau 12,154 words, Rated E (Dad A & female nanny C)

Dressed in Purple  by GothRockFairy and @just-an-angel-and-his-demon (Ao3 KaytheJay) 25,108 words, Rated T (C & A are princes in an arranged marriage)

Drunk on Love by @hkblack 1615 words, Rated T (C & A are friends)

Everything But The Kitchen Sink by @bornonthesavage (Ao3 KiaraMGrey) 17,818 words, Rated E (Handyman C & homeowner A)

Fakes and Forgeries by Solimette and @waldos-art (Ao3 WaldosAkimbo) 156,464 words, Rated E (Art forger C & art conservator A)

Godfathers by AppleSeeds 4447 words, Rated T (Nanny C & gardener A)

Harder, Faster, Deeper (Save Lives) by AppleSeeds 3883 words, Rated T (First aid trainer A and trainee C)

Hate to Break it to You by @melibemusca (Ao3 Melibe) 1735 words, Rated T (Beelzebub & Gabriel are co-workers)

Heavenly Hands by @zehwulf 7513 words, Rated E (Female lawyer C & male sex worker A)

here to stay is a new bird by @tastymoves (Ao3 Sway) 6716 words, Rated E (C is a reindeer and A is Santa at a photo booth)

High Season by snae_b 46,756 words, Rated E (C & A in an AU based on the TV show Below Deck)

I 2 I by @caspianthegeek 1987 words, Rated G (A hires C as a date for a family dinner)

i bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints we would only find yours  by @two-hands-toward-the-sun (Ao3 marveling_under_an_open_sky) 791 words, Rated G (Ineffable wives: C & A are married)

Inevitable Con by @journeytogallifrey 3155 words, Rated G (C & A meet while cosplaying Good Omens)

I Knew I Loved You by AppleSeeds 90,575 words, Rated E (C & A become friends online)

King Me by @moveslikebucky 1818 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Love, Syncopation, and Other Key Elements of Jazz by rev02a 38,570 words, Rated T (C & A are a jazz duo)

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (Ao3 TawnyOwl95) 46,175 words, Rated E (Bartender C and club owner A)

Man to Man by leukozyna 61,517 words, Rated E (C & A are co-workers)

Negotiation by rev02a 224,240 words, Rated E (Omega C and Alpha A in the Regency)

Of Harpsichord and Falsetto by @saretton 105,768 words, Rated E (Rock guitarist C and pianist A)

Of Size and other Matters by @janara7 (Ao3 LCwrites) 28,204 words, Rated E (C & A meet via a wrong-number text)

Private Gig by @madrabbitsociety (Ao3 madrabbitgirl) 17,739 words, not rated (Rock star C & bookseller A)

Rescued by @fenrislorsrai 788 words, Rated G (Cat rescuer C & animal shelter worker A)

Sacrament by snae_b 5549 words, Rated E (Sex worker C & priest A)

Seven Minutes In Hell by AppleSeeds 4597 words, Rated T (C & A are college students)

Sinful and Forbidden Pleasures by @arielavader 8613 words, Rated E (C & A have an extramarital affair)

Slip and Fall by @madrabbitsociety (Ao3 madrabbitgirl) 2687 words, not rated (C & A meet in pottery class)

Something Borrowed by @feraltuxedo 8199 words, Rated M (C & A have a one night stand)

Sorry (Not Sorry) by @ineffablefool 2373 words, Rated T (C & A are childhood friends reunited)

Sunk On You by @ambrasue (Ao3 Ambra_Sue) 3141 words, Rated T (C takes his nephew Adam to a swim class taught by A)

Sympathetic Magic by KissMyAsthma 4315 words, Rated T (Magician A is a guest on a morning TV show hosted by C)

That Gay Pirate Show by @tawnyontumblr (Ao3 TawnyOwl95) 28,946 words, Rated E (C & A are actors playing captains on a pirate TV show)

That of the Obvious by @just-an-angel-and-his-demon (Ao3 KaytheJay) 2213 words, Rated G (C & A are professors)

The Best Man by @quefish77 (Ao3 Quefish) 1455 words, Rated G (A is the best man at C's wedding)

The blesséd language of flowers by @elfontheshelves (Ao3 elf_on_the_shelf) 59, 554 words, Rated E (Ineffable wives: C & A are rival gardeners in a small town)

The Fortune Teller by AppleSeeds 6513 words, Rated T (A tries to break C from a curse)

The Layover by @ineffable-writer (Ao3 ThatWriterKid) 1321 words, Rated G (Pilot C & coffee shop owner A)

THE SUMMER FESTIVAL by Aunt_Agenda 2143 words, Rated G (A meets singer C at a music festival)

The Unexpected Benefits of Using Rideshare Services by @quefish77 (Ao3 Quefish) 5951 words, Rated E (Rideshare driver A & passenger C)

Through the Looking Glass by @naromoreau 6548 words, Rated E (Building owner C & window washer A)

You can stay in my bed, if you like by AppleSeeds 3294 words, Rated T (C & A are roommates)

[lupstarnyx]

I think one of the most interesting consequences of the "losing is non-canon" approach to video games, in the context of Pokemon Rejuvenation, is how utterly untouchable the Interceptor appears.

If I recall correctly, there are exactly six fights you can canonically lose in game, those being your first two fights (when you're just starting out), a fight against a cyborg with mega evolution when you're four badges in (which used to just be a cutscene), the leader of the evil team with a fucking lvl 100 Yveltal, a small child, and Huey. All of these fights are technically winnable.

Whiting out and going to the Pokemon Center has no canonical consequence. I whited out to that random chick with the Lopunny in Gearen City three times, and yet every time I went back to that building in the Pier she was there, introducing herself as if she hadn't just swept the floor with me.

Imagine how that looks from the outside, though. You're a talented trainer or Pokemon Ranger or Anti-Assist grunt or what have you, and this random white-haired young adult (or red-haired biker lad? your partner is strenuously disagreeing with you) stops mere inches from your face, jogs off to god knows where, and comes back with a roster seemingly tailor-made to wreck your shit. If you're a gym leader, you have to deal with everything seemingly going exactly their way - they land three critical hits in a fight, or predict a move and switch into an immune pokemon, or you get the worst luck of your life and miss two nearly perfectly-accurate moves at once. Even though you have the field advantage, it's like they know exactly what's going to happen exactly when it does, and they're always there to press the advantage.

Hell, it's probably terrifying for their allies as well. Your best friend and potential love interest stops mid-speech during a meeting with a blank look in their eyes before going to the PC, changing out half their team, and returning to their seat muttering something about "dodging the crit". Are they seeing the future? Are they screwing with you? Are they possessed? (I mean, you know they're possessed, but like, by anything else?) Sparring is an exercise in futility - they know what strategy you're going to use before you do, and can change their own at the drop of a hat. They might completely change their team out between fights, or simply overwhelm yours with a hard counter you hadn't considered or even known existed.

The NPC trainers don't see the hours of preparation. They don't see the breedjects, the grinding, the calculations, the research, or the endless soft-resets to get just the right damage rolls and positioning. They don't see how hard-earned your victories are - their many wins are swept away, leaving only a singular, ineffable loss. No canonical defeats means that the MC appears unstoppable from all outside appearances, even though it's likely you've lost more fights than any other trainer in Aevium.

[superwho-am-i-kidding]

PROMPT LIST - INEFFABLE HUSBANDS

31，45 for illogical husbands please :p

Love them so much 😭

I AM SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS. I've been having a rough time of inspiration to write, paired with a metric fuck ton of stuff to do. This isn't my best work, but I needed to get back to writing.

Hopefully I'll have more time and motivation soon!

Please continue to send in prompts. I promise I will get to them, it just may be a little while. :)

.

“You don’t have to love me!” Alec shouted.

Bill glared back at him. “Of course I don’t, you Scottish twit! I love you because I want to!”

“Then explain yesterday to me!”

Bill shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Alec slumped down onto the couch in their small living room. “I brought lunch to surprise you at the hospital yesterday.”

“What? When was this?”

“Around the time you were flirting with your nurse. I saw you leaning against the door, Bill. You had that smile on your face that I thought was only for me. I guess it was pretty dumb of me to think that.” Aleck looked up and scoffed. “At least you have the decency to pretend to be shocked. Can I have the truth for a moment? If I ask you a question?”

Bill’s face was red. “Is it the question to explain myself? If so, I will happily oblige!”

��No,” Alec shook his head. “I know what I need to. You don’t need to explain how you’d be happier with someone else.”

“Hap–happier?” Bill sputtered. “How dare you imply that I¬–”

“I only want to know one thing, Bill. And I already know the answer, but I want to hear you say it.” Bill took a deep breath and clenched his jaw, waiting for Alec to just spit out the question. “The world was a little brighter yesterday, wasn’t it? Everything was brighter without me there.” Bill stared at the detective, mouth agape. “That’s all I needed to know. I’ll start gathering your–”

“Hold on a damn minute!” Bill exploded. “One. The world is terrible without you there. Everything is dark and cold. You bring the sunshine, Alec. You are my sunshine. Two. Maria is only a coworker. She asked me for how to get her trainer at the gym to look at her. All I did was show her the moves I used to win you over. I’ve never used them on anyone else, and I never plan to. You’re the one, Alec. And now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go.”

Alec’s eyes had welled up with tears. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Bill smiled. “Now come here and give me a hug.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec whimpered into his shoulder. “I’ve just had so many people leave me…”

“I’m not going to be one of them,” Bill swore. “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you, too. More than you know.”

[secret-teams]

How does Ghetsis react with a peaceful, idealistic trainer who gives off a mystical, dreamy vibe? For pokemon they might have, Fairy, Water, Grass, Normal, and the cuter Psychic pokemon like Musharna work!

"—Are you lost, perhaps?"

  Ghetsis had turned to the side; a set of menus in one hand as his visible eye, a striking shade of carmine, peered cautiously at the trainer with whom he happened to come across on his way to Archie’s poolside bar on the left-most annex of the castle. They did not answer him.

  The trainer in question was not a child, but by no means were they an adult either given their presence in a...place like this. Did their parents not teach them to stay away from such establishments? Were they looking to display some sort of rebellion by coming here? Even more notable was their appearance; a modest attire with soft, doe-like eyes curiously looking back at him all the while cradling a poofy little swirlix in their arms. They looked so tranquil, so...ineffably innocent.

  They looked so much like...him.

  A muscle in his jaw tenses up and his teeth grit but he does not show this, unwilling to convey even a hint of guilt mild irritation lest he face another scolding from the “boss”. It was either he kept this job, or go back to being on the run and eventually earn a lifetime stay at some cold, dingy cell in Arceus-knows-where which was not a place for someone like himself.

  Perhaps he could find some use for them? Maybe he could send them off to relay a message to one of his associates still in hiding? Could they even do that? convincing the seemingly impressionable trainer was no object, surely but...

  Did he really want them to? What would he do and where would he go now that the rest of the world knew of his misdeeds?

  In the end, against his better judgment, Ghetsis let out a sigh before begrudgingly walking past them in a direction opposite of where he had originally intended to go and, raising a gloved hand, motions for them to follow.

  “Come,” he offered almost bittersweetly. “at least allow me serve you some tea and biscuits before showing you the way out.”

[penguin-artist]

I was just casually listening to my music yesterday and I ended up coming with the idea for “Dear Future Husband” but with Ineffable Husbands and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing

[positivepumpkin]

Crowley’s Houndour when he finds it. 

The pokemon was used as a ‘guard dog.’ Left outside, it was half rabid half starved when Crowley took it. It still has the scar around it’s neck from the collar, even after evolution, but it’s since faded and doesn’t hurt anymore. He still doesn’t like his neck touched, however. 

[lady-divine-writes]

31 Days of Ineffables - “Making an Effort” (Rated T)

Summary: Every morning, Aziraphale sneaks out of bed to go for a run without telling his husband.

One day, Crowley finds out. (1839 words)

Notes: Written for @drawlight’s ‘31 Days of Ineffables’ prompt ‘warmth’. Warning for talk of anxiety and self-esteem/body issues.

Read on AO3.

Slap … slap … slap … slap …

The soles of Aziraphale’s trainers hitting the wet asphalt sound exactly the way he thought they would.

Like the shoes of a fat man hitting concrete.

It’s not that difficult a thing to describe, nothing poetic about it.

He could definitely do with a break, stop into a nearby shop and warm himself up with some cocoa and conversation, but he won’t let himself. He’s committed to this. Committed to changing, to evolving, to becoming something better than he is.

Something better than he sees when he looks in the mirror.

He erases thoughts of warmth and cocoa from his mind and tries to focus on the positives of being out here … jogging … alone … in the early December gloom.

At this hour of the morning, he gets to see the glorious sunrise. It brings him closer to God, bolsters a connection he’s felt lacking as of late.

Though if that’s not entirely his fault, he won’t own up to it.

At three a.m. when he starts his fitness quest, he gets to revel in the peace and quiet that comes from London still abed.

Oh. But that reminds him that his claim to London, his claim to the world, is also still abed and asleep without him.

Crowley.

He’d rather be with Crowley.

He’d rather be in bed with Crowley, warm and toasty, sipping cocoa and watching the grey clouds pave their way across the sky from behind closed windows.

Crowley doesn’t want this.

He doesn’t know about it, but if he did, he wouldn’t want this.

But won’t he be proud of Aziraphale when he sees the change? The looser clothes, the smoother skin, the closer hugs?

Aziraphale doesn’t have to tell Crowley about his plans in order for his husband to benefit from them, so keeping him out of the loop isn’t a bad thing …

… necessarily.

Great.

Now he’s cold and tired and keeping things from his husband.

How can this morning get any better?

“Looking good, angel.”

A wolf-whistle follows those words and Aziraphale’s heart shudders.

That’s how, he guesses.

Serves him right. He could never really keep secrets from Crowley, could he?

If not, Crowley would have never walked down the aisle of that church, hopping like a drunk jack rabbit, and saved Aziraphale from getting blown to bits.

Aziraphale debates running on by, but he knows Crowley will simply miracle himself to the next bench and wait for him there. And if there isn’t a bench, he’ll snap one up.

Aziraphale slows to a stop, panting from the stress exercise takes on his human form.

“You don’t have to make fun of me.”

“Not making fun,” Crowley says, waiting for his angel to give up the stubborn attitude and come sit beside him. “I mean it. You look good. Of course, you always look good to me, particularly when you’re red in the face and working up a sweat. I just wish you’d stay in bed with me and do it proper. It’s colder than fuck out here!”

Aziraphale glances over at his husband curling in on himself and shivering dramatically in the cold – a subtle attempt to get Aziraphale to cave and sit next to him.

Which he does because dramatic or not, he hates seeing his demon shiver, knowing how thoroughly the cold seeps through his skin. With a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale miracles up his own coat and slips it over Crowley’s shoulders, wrapping it around him, frowning when he sees how loosely it bunches on Crowley’s thin form.

“What in the world are you doing out here at this hour of the morning?” Aziraphale asks, as if the answer weren’t ridiculously obvious.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.”

Crowley watches his husband sit flush up against him, their arms touching, but from the expression on his face, he couldn’t be farther away. “Well, if you must know, it’s a sad and pathetic fact that I can no longer sleep without you.”

“Is it now?” Aziraphale says dryly.

“Yes, it is.”

“Sorry about that. But it’s easier to run in the morning.”

So I wouldn’t find out? Crowley thinks with a chuckle to himself. “And why’s that? Because that’s how the humans torture themselves, so you have to do it that way, too?”

“Because there’s less foot traffic,” Aziraphale defends. “Less chance of bumping into other runners.”

Or one runner in particular, Crowley surmises, knowing that Gabriel runs these paths on occasion for no reason Crowley can begin to comprehend.

Correction, he does comprehend it. But if he admits it, he’ll be running up the escalator to Heaven’s offices with all his might to punch himself an Archangel.

“If you’re really concerned with avoiding foot traffic, I could get you a treadmill. Or a stationary bike. Or one of those bizarre floaty contraptions that look like they’re from a sci-fi movie.”

“An elliptical?”

“Yes, an elliptical. Then you could exercise till your heart’s content in the comfort of our flat, and I’d get to sit on the sofa and ogle you all day long from behind.”

Crowley winks.

Aziraphale tuts and rolls his eyes.

“But that’s not the point, is it?” Crowley continues. “Because you’re not actually out here to improve yourself.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Aziraphale grumbles. “You know, sometimes you really are a snake.”

“You’re a supernatural entity, Aziraphale. You don’t have to exercise. Not really. You’re not concerned with your heart and your blood pressure. If you wanted to look fitter, you could snap your fingers and do it. Or I could do it for you so Heaven won’t find out.” Crowley lifts a hand out of his coat cocoon for emphasis. “I’m a demon. Expert at taking things apart. One snap and …” He makes an obscene sucking noise “… instant liposuction.”

“So what am I doing, in your expert opinion?”

“You’re punishing yourself, angel,” Crowley says softly. “And you’re doing it over nothing. Over no one that matters.”

Aziraphale wiggles uncomfortably on the bench. He doesn’t move away, but that distance Crowley felt earlier begins to grow. “H-how would you know?”

“Because I know you. I’ve known you for thousands of years. I know your thoughts, your desires, your heart. And I know that the voice in your head, the one that tells you you’re soft, you’re fat, you’re a pathetic excuse for an angel – that voice doesn’t belong to you. It never has. And it doesn’t belong to me either.”

Aziraphale sniffles, digesting those words while he watches the sun rise higher in the sky, lending light and life and hope to a weary world.

And one weary angel.

“It’s … been there for such a long time,” Aziraphale only half-voices, “and I … I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

“Does waking up at the butt crack of dawn and running the soles out of a pair of shoes till your bum knee aches get rid of it?”

“For a while.”

“Is there a chance that … making love to me gets rid of it?”

Aziraphale swallows. When he answers, his voice shakes. “For a while.”

“Then why don’t we do that instead?”

“Because it’s not an easy thing to admit to.”

“I know that.”

“Really?” Aziraphale scoffs. He steals a quick, angry glance down Crowley’s trim body hiding beneath his bulky coat, but never meets his eyes. “And how’s that?”

“You don’t think I have a few voices in my head, too? They might not be your voices, they may not say the same things, but they’re bastards, I’ll tell you that.”

“How do you get rid of them?”

“By doing the things I love – driving my car, drinking, sleeping. But mostly by hanging out with you.” Crowley threads an arm through the sleeve of Aziraphale’s coat and takes his angel’s hand. “Which is part of the reason why you haven’t been able to get rid of me since the day you left Heaven and I left Hell.”

That remark coaxes a partial smile out of Aziraphale. “I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Well, now you know.” Crowley lifts Aziraphale’s hand to his mouth, kisses across his knuckles one by one. “Listen, if you wanna keep jogging, be my guest. I’ll even help you.”

Aziraphale shoots his husband a comical look. “How?”

“I’ll … I’ll … I’ll chase you all over this damned park! I’ll throw ducks at you …”

“Crowley!”

“I’ll scream that you stole my wallet till the cops come running!”

Aziraphale does his best to look appalled by his husband’s suggestion, but the laughter twitching his lips at the image it paints wins out in the end.

“But only if you’re doing it because you want to do it. Otherwise … what good does it really do you?”

Aziraphale nods. He goes back to staring while he thumbs through his options, but the thought of Crowley throwing ducks and crying out in fake distress lingers so vividly, he’s certain Crowley keeps planting it there.

“I don’t want to jog anymore,” Aziraphale says finally.

“You don’t?” Crowley asks, not even hiding his non-surprise.

“No.”

“Are you, maybe, in the mood for some crepes? I know a great breakfast spot not too far from here.”

“No,” Aziraphale says with the firm resolve of a man triumphing over demons he’s been battling for decades.

But seeing as Aziraphale married his demon, his answer becomes less convincing.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at him. Aziraphale looks resolutely away.

But he smiles, too.

“Yes, I am,” he relents. “But I think I’d like to stay like this for a while, if you don’t mind. Sitting by your side, holding your hand - I want this more.”

Crowley rests his head against his angel’s shoulder. “So do I.”

They sit in silence together and watch the sun climb into the sky.

“This is nice,” Crowley murmurs, closing his eyes to block out the bright and focus instead on the warmth on his face.

“It is,” Aziraphale concurs. Over the thousands of years they’ve spent as friends, and the months they’ve spent as lovers, this is something they’ve had yet to do. They’ve been together in the presence of the sunrise, of course. And the sunset. But sitting together and letting it command their full attention – this is a first.

“You know, maybe I was wrong,” Crowley says.

“How’s that?”

“Maybe we should get up early and do this every morning. Not the running. Just the sunrise.”

“Perhaps. It might be nicer to watch it from the balcony instead.”

“Of course, of course,” Crowley agrees, close to falling asleep. “Much less chance of encountering foot traffic up there.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale breathes in deep, then breathes out deep into the cold, crisp winter air. He should have brought a book. And a Thermos. And a snack. “Can we go get those crepes now?”

“Yup.”

“And after the crepes, can we have sex?”

Crowley grins. “Oh absolutely.”