#my badness aziraphale but what ARE those humans doing in the bushes?

[edosianorchids901]

War's Quick Fire

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "fight or flight"

Crawly wasn’t much of a fighter. It wasn’t that he was scared of everything—well, some days he was scared of everything, especially when he had to go to Hell—but a matter of power. He fell thoroughly into the standard demonic range, nothing special.

So at the first sizzle of Heavenly power, he fled. At first on foot, jogging into the desert. And then, when the sizzle turned into an inferno, he abandoned that and rippled into the shape he’d first used in the Garden. Long, scaly, and fast.

But not fast enough for flight to be a viable option. And flight—the sort with wings—wasn’t an option either. If the still-arriving angels could spot him slithering, they’d spot him flying.

He dove under a cluster of shrubby bushes, and came face to face with another angel.

Instinctively, he reared up and bared his fangs, rattling as he coiled to strike. Luckily, before this form’s fight response could take the form of striking, he recognized the angel. “Aziraphale? What’re you doing?”

“Oh, taking a lovely little doze,” Aziraphale said with a surprising amount of sarcasm. Gosh, it seemed like he’d finally figured out how that worked. “I’m attempting to avoid your people, what do you think?”

“My people? My people? I’m trying to avoid your people!”

Something exploded. Thankfully not right on top of them, but close enough that the ground shook. Crawly slithered closer to Aziraphale’s trembling form and coiled around his hand.

“What’re you doing?” Aziraphale tried to whisper and exclaim at the same time. The effect was a bit strangled. “I warn you, if you attempt to constrict me, I shall… I shall have words for you!”

“Oh, wordssss, never been ssssso terrified in my life,” Crawly hissed, letting every bit of sarcasm possible drip through his voice. “M’ not constricting you. Holding your hand. You were shaking.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sounded embarrassed. “I suppose I am, a bit. Um. When did you get rattles, by the way?”

Crawly stared at him. Outside, more explosions went off in the skirmish between Heaven and Hell. “I don’t have rattlesss. Just shaking my tail. Pretty effective in the sssand.”

“Oh. Yes. I suppose it is.” Aziraphale was still shaking, and Crawly constricted in what was hopefully a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t see in the dark.”

“Really? Really?”

“A little, but not very well. About the same as the humans, I suppose.”

Crawly considered that. “Sssso, you mean I coulda just kept fleeing, and your people wouldn’t have noticed me?”

“I suppose, but then I’d be all alone.”

“Fair point.” Careful not to move too quickly, Crawly piled his coils right against the softness of Aziraphale’s side. It was warmer there, that was all. At least, that was what he told himself. Definitely didn’t wanna comfort the scared angel or anything, oh no. Not a demonic thing to do at all. “Any idea what they’re fighting about?”

“Afraid not. I had no idea any angels were even down here until you said so.” Hand steadier now, Aziraphale petted Crawly’s scales. Crawly really should have protested, but it was warm too, so he didn’t. “Are you all right, by the way? Didn’t get into a fight with any of them?”

“I’d be a charred lump of sssnake if I had, wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose that’s true.” Aziraphale shuddered again, and this time Crawly suspected it wasn’t out of fear for himself. Wow. That was weird, honestly, to have an angel be this concerned about the safety of a demon. And vice versa, probably, but Crawly wasn’t interested in letting himself acknowledge that. “I was able to duck under here right after I felt the arrival of all those demons. I really have no idea what they’re up to.”

With a soft hiss, Crawly rested his chin on the back of Aziraphale’s head. It was comfortable, kind of like particularly fluffy grass. Or a sheep, although Crawly had never actually tried sleeping on a sheep. “Probably just Hastur or sssomeone in a bad mood. Or showing off. Have a quick fight, report they ‘engaged with Heaven’s forces’, everyone’s happy.”

“Ah. Well. I’m sure that no one on my side would do anything so devious,” Aziraphale said in a tone that made it clear he was sure of exactly the opposite. “I suppose they must have needed to come down to, um. Battle your evil.”

“What’d I do? What’d I do?”

“Well, your people’s evil.”

Crawly subsided, snuffling into Aziraphale’s hair. “Better.”

Aziraphale squirmed. “Crawly, that tickles.”

“Does it?” He did it again, right behind Aziraphale’s ear, and the angel giggled. “Ssssounds like you enjoy it.”

“Well, I don’t.” Soft, plump hands curled around his coils and tugged him down. Crawly hissed in protest, but he was nowhere as strong as a Principality, regardless of his form. “Come here, you absurd serpent, and stop trying to make me make noise.”

Crawly stared at him in the dark. “We’ve been having a full-on conversation for ssseveral minutes.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into silence for a bit after that, just waiting for the explosions to die down. Smoke filled the air, which was unpleasant, but otherwise nothing disturbed them.

It wasn’t long before the explosions and smoke and everything died down, and Aziraphale peeked out from under the bush. “Well, it seems they’ve gone home. Would you like to? Come home with me, I mean. I-I-I have beer. And date cakes.”

He looked embarrassed. Crawly eyed him, fascinated, and then dipped his head. “Okay. Okay.”

“Good!” Without further ado, Aziraphale picked him up, burst out of the bush, and strolled off across the sand.

And while Crawly protested the indignity of being carried, he didn’t try to flee. Angels were dangerous, on the whole, but not this one. Someday, maybe they could even be friends.

[crowlixcx]

For the brainrot series - as though you don't have enough requests, but I heard this song again today and the resulting assault on my imagination has irrevocably damaged my sanity, and I had to say something because I will not be suffering alone.

Okay, so, picture this:

Crowley is tired of the way things have been weird in this vague post-S3 world I'm picturing, and he's decided he's gonna Do Something About It (mostly because he's already about 'if I'm not a bush I'm not no one' levels of drunk). Naturally, he decides that what he's gonna do is woo his angel.

Easy enough. Humans do this shit all the time, and without the benefit of 6000 years of mutual pining and some slinky hips. In fact, thanks to his extensive knowledge of romcoms (a must for any demon if they want to learn inventive ways to sow discord among couple, etc, and for no other reason), he's decided that the perfect course of action is to serenade Aziraphale with a song that perfectly encapsulates his squishy, kind of embarrassingly soft feelings that the angel just has to give in and accept his expertly plighted troth (probably not a euphemism).

He is, at this point, at the 'I'm washing me and my clothes' stage of his drinking binge, but he's nervous, so sue him.

It takes him foreeeeever to pick a song (he only knows "bebop" won't do, but unfortunately that covers such a wide and sometimes contradictory swath of all music made since the 1940s, it's pretty impossible), and he keeps second guessing himself, so he makes it to the 'Kiefer Sutherland tackling a Christmas tree' stage of blitzed and hits shuffle on his 'Embarrassing Angelfeels I Can Never Admit To Even Under Pain Of Total Annihilation' Spotify playlist et VOILA! The perfect song! Crowley can't believe his luck, and he sets his plan into motion before he can do something stupid, like sober up.

So, it's about 3 in the morning at this point, and Crowley has set up his speaker system in the middle of the street facing Aziraphale's bookshop, and as you do, he climbs onto a stolen crate (containing an order of dildos the adult entertainment shop three streets over is going to be looking for in about five hours) and shouts for Aziraphale until the angel, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be hanging around at 3am on a Wednesday (mostly Mrs. Sandwich and her girls and poor Nina, who has unwisely chosen to arrive extra early to wait on a delivery of hazelnut syrup), pops their heads out to see what the deuce is going on.

Once he sees his darling angel, Crowley takes another swig of frankly embarrassingly cheap vodka for a demon of his tastes, hefts hus microphone, and starts to sing (for a given value of sing).

It starts off soft, all chimes and romantic piano, full of joy and longing, and Aziraphale's face does that thing where he's definitely embarrassed, but also pleased, so Crowley shuts his eyes, and that's when the disco beat drops.

Oh yes. Crowley is about to fucking boogie down for the love of his life.

He busts out all the moves, wiggling those slinky hips (because he's never been one not to use every weapon at his disposal), belting out mostly the right lyrics in somewhat the right key, generally on time and everything.

Aziraphale's face, if Crowley would open his eyes and look, is now crossing over into horrified, yet hopelessly enamored, with a dash of down bad. His tastes are varied and interesting, okay?

The music fades out before Crowley does, still belting for a good thirty seconds after the track changes to 'The Edge of Glory', which isn't as perfect for his purposes, but Aziraphale hasn't fallen to his knees in besotted supplication (also not a euphemism, probably), so Crowley figures he may as well, and the whole street is both glad and a little disappointed that this is when Aziraphale steps away from the shop door, reaches up for Crowley's hand, and drags him off the box of dildos and towards the shop.

"That's lovely, dear. Why don't we go inside so you can sleep this off before we talk about it."

Crowley, of course, follows along happily, about 80% sure that is a euphemism, and decides send a little blessing to Barbra Streisand in gratitude. He knew 'The Main Event/Fight' had been the right song to choose.

(It was not, in fact, a euphemism, and Crowley thinks the squirming agony of having to listen to Aziraphale somehow turn a love confession into a lecture about proper methods of courtship and being considerate of human sleep cycles while suffering the worst hangover of his entire existence is possibly the best worst thing he's ever experienced. Hell should take notes.)

(They spend the rest of the day getting to know each other, and that is a euphemism.)

Now.

Did I fail to peel this mental image off the surface of my brain for the last 24 hours and decide to share the agony and the ecstasy of it? Oh yes.

Is it the perfect song to confess your love to your ineffable crush with? Debatable, but it has good results of one (1) success and no failures so far, so we can't really say no.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

The level of detail in this is unmatched. The creativity? Inspired. When I started th brainrot series never did I think I would receive something of this gravitas. Bravo my dear, I'm in the palm of your hand. And the specificity of the playlist turning to Edge Of Glory? Delicious. This is truly, marvellously unhinged. God bless the Babs and to you for the gift you have bestowed upon me. I will treat it with love and care.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I'm on vacations up in the mountains of the state that I put Celestial Harmonies National Park in (which is my home state), and today my sister and I tried to go for a hike, couldn't find the trail, decided to drive around and check out the sites (we saw a badger and found the jawbone of an elk), then ended up high up on a mountain and found huckleberries.

And it gave me an idea for CHNP's au, with Crowley and his eldritch boyfriend going berry picking.

Please note, most parks don't want you to go berry picking because most of those are meant for the animals, especially bears. However, if there is a massive abundance of certain kinds, yeah, sure, but in certain amounts. Or if you go to a national forest or grassland, you're free to pick as much as you want.

Warning: chokecherries and the bad reaction you have when eating them fresh, angelic body horror (Aziraphale is in his true form, which is really, really weird, and he made himself more of Crowley's size rather than his normal, giant size)

On with the fic!

--

"I really shouldn't be showing you this place." Aziraphale started as he moved through the branches, Crowley keeping to the ground along a barely used path. At least, barely used by humans, the dried tracks in the dirt indicated animals.

"And yet you are." Crowley smirked.

Aziraphale huffed, turning his nose up. "It is illegal."

"And, again, you are showing me this berry patch." Crowley looked up at him, wagging around the bucket in his hand. "Because you want me to bake you up all sorts of treats. Oh, and to try my hand at homemade jams."

There was a loud thump as Aziraphale dropped his body down onto the ground, using his many, freaky hands to crawl across the ground alongside Crowley. "Just don't tell anyone where you got them from, alright?"

"Promise." The human said, trying to keep from looking smug.

They walked a bit further ahead until Crowley could see the large patch of bushes scattered about, hidden among the trees. Lots of ripe blue and purple berries were in sight, and Crowley could even spot red ones as well. Clearly they hadn't been picked clean by the local fauna, though he would leave plenty for them, he didn't want to piss off any bears or whatever.

"Man, look at these, I'm gonna be busy for the next few days." Crowley stated, going up to a bush to pick a plump berry, then popped it right into his mouth. Perfectly tart and juicy, yep, these are ready to be picked.

He got to work, careful to not squish any, as Aziraphale watched. "You wanna help? I could use a hand." Crowley said. "Or several pairs."

"Oh, ha-ha." Aziraphale rolled several of his multiple eyes before making his way over, starting to pick a bunch of the huckleberries, dropping them into the bucket.

Although Crowley did notice that not all of them went into the bucket, quite a number of them were going into the large mouth on Aziraphale's stomach.

He didn't say anything though, Aziraphale seemed rather delighted with the berries, and he was still helping anyway.

Until he noticed that Aziraphale started to pluck from the bushes containing the red berries. "Oh- oh, angel, those are-"

Crowley winced when Aziraphale tossed a handful of the red berries right into his mouth and chewed on them for a moment. Then he paused and all his eyes widened before vanishing and Crowley watched in fascinated horror as Aziraphale's mouth literally spiraled into his body, his face doing the exact same thing.

Then the angel started gagging, coughing way too hard as his features returned. Crowley sighed and held out his water bottle, which Aziraphale gladly took and started to chug.

"Angel, you've lived here for decades, did ya forget what a chokecherry was?" Crowley asked.

"I-I don't usually see them in the wild!" Aziraphale sputtered. "They're normally jammed or in a tea...!"

Crowley laughed and plucked a few, throwing them into the bucket. "Oh yeah, that's the best way to eat 'em. Trying to eat them raw is askin' for trouble."

He ignored the many glaring eyes looking at him, and just smiled, putting more berries into the bucket.

--

Chokecherries live up to their name cause they leave your mouth feeling horrible due to how super bitter and sour they are at the exact same time. However, they taste good when baked, jammed, or turned into a tea.

Huckleberries are super tasty though, or at least I think so, but I only like them in syrup, ice cream, and candy form.

[kurgarru]

But why is it St James’ Park that Crowley and Aziraphale use for their extremely incognito rendezvous point, for centuries?

We know Crowley’s particular brand of evil is niggling annoyance, and he particularly enjoys getting humans to screw with themselves. Please feast your eyes on the notoriously pornographic poem “A Ramble in St James’ Park”, composed (probably in the early 1670s) by one of the most infamously provocative men of history, that chaotic bisexual human gadfly John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester:

“Much wine had passed, with grave discourse

Of who fucks who, and who does worse

(Such as you usually do hear

From those that diet at the Bear),

When I, who still take care to see

Drunkenness relieved by lechery,

Weent out into St. James's Park

To cool my head and fire my heart.

But though St. James has th' honor on 't,

'Tis consecrate to prick and cunt.

There, by a most incestuous birth,

Strange woods spring from the teeming earth;

For they relate how heretofore,

When ancient Pict behan to whore,

Deluded of his assignation

(Jilting, it seems, was then in fashion),

Poor pensive lover, in this place

Would frig upon his mother's face;

Whence rows of mandrakes tall did rise

Whose lewd tops fucked the very skies.

Each imitative branch does twine

In some loved fold of Aretine,

And nightly now beneath their shade

Are buggeries, rapes, and incests made.

Unto this all-sin-sheltering grove

Whores of the bulk and the alcove,

Great ladies, chambermaids, and drudges,

The ragpicker, and heiress trudges.

Carmen, divines, great lords, and tailors,

Prentices, poets, pimps, and jailers,

Footmen, fine fops do here arrive,

And here promiscuously they swive.

Along these hallowed walks it was

That I beheld Corinna pass.

Whoever had been by to see

The proud disdain she cast on me

Through charming eyes, he would have swore

She dropped from heaven that very hour,

Forsaking the divine abode

In scorn of some despairing god.

But mark what creatures women are:

How infinitely vile, when fair!

Three knights o' the' elbow and the slur

With wriggling tails made up to her.

The first was of your Whitehall baldes,

Near kin t' th' Mother of the Maids;

Graced by whose favor he was able

To bring a friend t' th' Waiters' table,

Where he had heard Sir Edward Sutton

Say how the King loved Banstead mutton;

Since when he'd ne'er be brought to eat

By 's good will any other meat.

In this, as well as allthe rest,

He ventures to do like the best,

But wanting common sense, th' ingredient

In choosing well not least expedient,

Converts abortive imitation

To universal affectation.

Thus he not only eats and talks

But feels and smells, sits down and walks,

Nay looks, and lives, and loves by rote,

In an old tawdry birthday coat.

The second was a Grays Inn wit,

A great inhabiter of the pit,

Where critic-like he sits and squints,

Steals pocket handkerchiefs, and hints

From 's neighbor, and the comedy,

To court, and pay, his landlady.

The third, a lady's eldest son

Within few years of twenty-one

bWho hopes from his propitious fate,

Against he comes to his estate,

By these two worthies to be made

A most accomplished tearing blade.

One, in a strain 'twixt tune and nonsense,

Cries, "Madam, I have loved you long since.

Permit me your fair hand to kiss";

When at her mouth her cunt cries, "Yes!"

In short, without much more ado,

Joyful and pleased, away she flew,

And with these three confounded asses

From park to hackney coach she passes.

So a proud bitch does lead about

Of humble curs the amorous rout,

Who most obsequiously do hunt

The savory scent of salt-swoln cunt.

Some power more patient now relate

The sense of this surprising fate.

Gods! that a thing admired by me

Should fall to so much infamy.

Had she picked out, to rub her arse on,

Some stiff-pricked clown or well-hung parson,

Each job of whose spermatic sluice

Had filled her cunt with wholesome juice,

I the proceeding should have praised

In hope sh' had quenched a fire I raised.

Such natural freedoms are but just:

There's something generous in mere lust.

But to turn a damned abandoned jade

When neither head nor tail persuade;

To be a whore in understanding,

A passive pot for fools to spend in!

The devil played booty, sure, with thee

To bring a blot on infamy.

But why am I, of all mankind,

To so severe a fate designed?

Ungrateful! Why this treachery

To humble fond, believing me,

Who gave you privilege above

The nice allowances of love?

Did ever I refuse to bear

The meanest part your lust could spare?

When your lewd cunt came spewing home

Drenched with the seed of half the town,

My dram of sperm was supped up after

For the digestive surfeit water.

Full gorged at another time

With a vast meal of slime

Which your devouring cunt had drawn

From porters' backs and footmen's brawn,

I was content to serve you up

My ballock-full for your grace cup,

Nor ever thought it an abuse

While you had pleasure for excuse -

You tht could make my heart away

For noise and color, and betray

The secrets of my tender hours

To such knight-errant paramours,

When, leaning on your faithless breast,

Wrapped in security and rest,

Soft kindness all my powers did move,

And reason lay dissolved in love!

brkMay stinking vapors choke your womb

Such as the men you dote upon

May your depraved appetite,

That could in whiffling fools delight,

Beget such frenzies in your mind

You may go mad for the north wind,

And fixing all your hopes upon't

To have him bluster in your cunt,

Turn up your longing arse t' th' air

And perish in a wild despair!

But cowards shall forget to rant,

Schoolboys to frig, old whores to paint;

The Jesuits' fraternity

Shall leave the use of buggery;

Crab-louse, inspired with grace divine,

From earthly cod to heaven shall climb;

Physicians shall believe in Jesus,

And disobedience cease to please us,

Ere I desist with all my power

To plague this woman and undo her.

But my revenge will best be timed

When she is married that is limed.

In that most lamentable state

I'll make her feel my scorn and hate:

Pelt her with scandals, truth or lies,

And her poor cur with jealousied,

Till I have torn him from her breech,

While she whines like a dog-drawn bitch;

Loathed and despised, kicked out o' th' Town

Into some dirty hole alone,

To chew the cud of misery

And know she owes it all to me.

And may no woman better thrive

That dares prophane the cunt I swive!”

Headcanon: Crowley takes Aziraphale to St James’ Park in the way a person might hopefully take a date to an arthouse film they’d heard was exceptionally horny but plausibly deniable.

[puffinsional]

hey! so in honor of good omens’ 30th anniversary and the drama’s 1st anniversary, here’s something i’ve been working on and off for about a year now...

presenting our side, a good omens story playlist!

i was inspired after coming across so many fantastic songs that work for aziraphale and crowley (many from listening to other peoples’ playlists, actually) and i thought it would be interesting to recount their entire journey through those songs. my goal was to make it feel like you were listening to the story just by listening to the playlist.

you can listen to the playlist on spotify or youtube! track list, lyric links, and story markers are under the cut.

special thanks to @rcmclachlan, @askazicro, and other good omens playlist makers for helping me discover many of these songs. i’m also including their playlists/tags under the cut if you wanna check out even more songs! also thank you to thomas ginnona for some classic rock consultation.

extra special thanks to my fantastic friend @humananalytica for helping me this entire time i’ve been working on this, sending me songs to listen to, helping bounce off ideas and give a second opinion every time i pester her, beta-ing, and for just in general being someone i can share my love of good omens with.

i’ve worked really hard on it so i’d be delighted if y’all can give it a listen! thank you very much!! m(_ _)m

TRACK LIST:

OVERTURE: A Tale of an Angel and a Demon

“Come With Me” - Chxrlotte

“A Rainy Night in Soho” - The Pogues

“I'll See Your Heart and I'll Raise You Mine” - BellX1

ACT I: The History of the World, Before the Armageddon

It Starts With a Garden

“From Eden” - Hozier 

"I'm With You" - Vance Joy

“An Act of Kindness” - Bastille

Hereditary Enemies

“Iris” - Goo Goo Dolls

"Losing Battles" - Josh Ritter

Policy Decisions

"The Garden" - The Crane Wives

“A Thousand Years” - Sting

"The Only Way (Hymn)" - Emerson, Lake, & Palmer

"Antichrist" - The 1975

Invitations

"Valentine" - Hope Tala

"Sit Next to Me" - Foster the People

"Try to Be" - Bonny Doon

The Arrangement

"Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" - Kate Bush

"Heads/tails" - Hotspur

"Walk Across the Water" - The Black Keys

Fraternizing

"How Does a Duck Know?" - Crash Test Dummies

"Monster" - Pomplamoose & dodie

“Chasing Twisters” - Delta Rae

Sorry, Consecrated Ground

“Do I Wanna Know?” - Arctic Monkeys

"What Kind of Man" - Florence + The Machine

A Bag of Prophecy Books

"The Thief" - Brooke Fraser

“Who Is In Your Heart Now?” - Studio Killers

“I Can't Behave” - Caravan of Thieves

“Devil's Backbone” - The Civil Wars

A Thermos Full of Holy Water

"Pick U Up" - Foster the People

“Holy Water” - Tommy Newport

“Waiting for the Miracle” - Leonard Cohen

Slowing Down

“How Long” - Matchbox Twenty

Delivering the Antichrist

"So Desperate" - The Mountain Goats

"The Things We Do For Love" - 10cc

“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” - Queen

Purely Social

“Drink!” - They Might Be Giants

"Heroes" - David Bowie

The Gardener and the Nanny

"Keep Her Closer" - Swimming Tapes

"Snakes and Lovers" - Spandau Ballet

"Five Years" - David Bowie

Harry the Rabbit

“Just Like Heaven” - The Cure

"1999" - Prince

"Someone's Missing" - MGMT

The Naming

"Apocalypse Please" - Muse

"London Calling" - The Clash

INTERLUDE: Crowley Yells at Some Plants

“Music to Soothe the Savage Snake Plant” - Mort Garson

ACT II: The World Has Started to End

To a Little Village in Oxfordshire

“Absolutely No Decorum” - The Ark

“Ride” - Clans

Tip-Top Shape

“Damn Your Eyes” - Etta James

Four Letter Words

"I Am Not a Robot" - Marina and the Diamonds

"When You Die" - MGMT

Velocipede

"Pedal Your Blues Away" - R. Crumb and the Cheap Suit Serenaders

Foolish Principalitie

"Put Down the Duckie" - Sesame Street

"Baby Blue Eyes" - Peter the Human Boy

"666 Conducer" - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

The Third Alternative Rendezvous

"Just Between You and Me" - Lou Gramm

“End Love” - OK Go

"Allies or Enemies" - The Crane Wives

“Stomach It” - Crywolf

“December” - Collective Soul

It's Over

"Leaves" - Gregory and the Hawk

“Silence & Sirens” - The Narrative

"Drowning Shadows" - Sam Smith

A Plea (If She's Listening)

��Bad Blood” - Sleeping At Last

The Lords of Hell

"Warrant" - Foster the People

“What If the Storm Ends? (The Lightning Strike, Part I)” - Snow Patrol

Alpha Centauri

“Something Happened on the Way to Heaven” - Phil Collins

“Origin of Love” - Mika

"Eternally Missed" - Muse

“Flowers for a Ghost” - Thriving Ivory

God's Spokesperson

“The Truth” - Foster the People

"All These Things I've Done" - The Killers

How to Navigate

“Gravity” - The fin.

"Dear Wormwood" - The Oh Hellos

“Hold the Line” - Toto

No Longer Keeping Score

“Hurts Like Hell” - Fleurie

"Can't Smile Without You" - Sleeping At Last (cover of Carpenters)

“Never” - Seira Kagami*

Aziraphale's Plan

“The Sunlight Through the Flags (The Lightning Strike, Part II)” - Snow Patrol*

“Sure as Hell Not Jesus” - Cosmo Jarvis

Crowley Drives Through the Flaming M25

"Get Yourself Together" - The Black Keys

“Burnin' For You” - Blue Oyster Cult

"Dreams and Disasters" - Owl City

Things That R.P. Tyler Would Like to Say (But Can't)

“You're On Fire” - They Might Be Giants

Aziraphale and Crowley Watch the Others Stop the Apocalypse

“Dream Sweet in Sea Major” - Miracle Musical

Adam's Satanic Father

"Hells Bells" - AC/DC

“Get It Together” - Mystery Skulls

Beside You

“The One Moment” - OK Go

“Daybreak (The Lightning Strike, Part III)” – Snow Patrol*

Agnes Nutter's Last Prophecy

"Butterflies and Hurricanes" - Muse

If You'd Like

"Breakfast Square" - Hana Vu

"Landscapes" - Gregory and the Hawk

The Swap

“Heaven or Hell” - Digital Daggers

Holy Water and Hellfire

"Crossfire" - Brandon Flowers

“Sinners” - Lauren Aquilina

Temptation Accomplished

“In Our Bedroom After the War” - Stars

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" - Belinda Carlisle

CONCLUSION: The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

“First Day of My Life” - Bright Eyes (covered by Jesse Daniel Smith)

“Nobody” - Hozier

"Our House" - Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young

“A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” - Vera Lynn

* indicates a song that’s only included in the YouTube playlist

Sources: rc’s music tag/playlist, askazicro music tag/community playlist, michael sheen’s hardcore gomens playlist, other referenced playlists (x x x). also my local cvs. yes really

[miraworos]

Fuck COVID Fic Recs

Look, I figure if we all have to hole up and wait out this mf of a virus, we might as well do it while reading amazing fic. 

So here are a few of my latest favorites…

Argumentum a fortiori (Teen And Up) by PerturbingPrism (@bouncygin)

Crowley could be a rising star at Brimstone Chambers, if he could control his temper and apply himself. Aziraphale is on the edge of losing not only his job, but his entire family over a disagreement over which organisations he has granted funds to through his beloved Miracle Foundation, the philanthropic arm of his family's angel investment firm. Anathema tries to help her old friend out by introducing him to the only lawyer she knows who might be crazy enough to take on the might of Celeste & Sons.

Two people with different ways of dealing with their issues strike up an unlikely friendship, leading to love and healing. Lots of bickering, bookshop silliness, boozing, bentley rides, shared desserts and blushing.

My notes: Best-in-class world-building. After reading this, you’ll think you’ve become a barrister yourself. More pining than you could possibly shake a stick at. Fabulous side-characters to fall in love with as well. A deplorable Gabriel you’ll love to hate. Family, both found and birth, and how choosing yourself makes both better. The writing is absolutely stellar in this with multiple passages that took my breath away. So much love for this fic.

Technicalities (Mature) by curtaincall (@fremulon)

Aziraphale is always very careful with his wording. Crowley's never really been in a position to question it.

My notes: This is going to sound like a strange endorsement, but this is basically the Clinton-impeachment crack fic you had no idea you needed. It’s thought-provoking and funny and then takes an unexpected turn, getting all up in your feels. Excellent writing with some bonus crass Latin as a treat.

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire, and Back Again (Teen And Up) by 29Pieces (@29-pieces​)

A demonic assassin. A bank robbery in the wrong place at the wrong time. An angel and a demon forced to outwit their enemies without using miracles. They've been in bad spots before but this is one Crowley might not survive. Whump, shenanigans, and of course comfort.

My notes: This fic is so much fun, action-y and hilarious, with quite a healthy portion of protective!Aziraphale and angsty hurt/comfort toward the end that just makes it all that much more satisfying. Not to mention, Aziraphale pretending to be a demon is one of my favorite things. Highly recommend.

Darksome Night and Shining Moon (Teen And Up) by Z A Dusk (@azfell-and-his-demon​)

In which Anathema invites Crowley and Aziraphale to Tadfield, Aziraphale agrees to help with a summoning, Crowley isn't having any of it, and Madame Tracy learns some truths about herself.

My notes: This is a great ensemble piece with several POVs. Fluffy, established relationship where they’re still working out some kinks. Crowley has a bit with Wensleydale that makes my heart melt into a puddle (I’m a sucker for pretty much anything with the Crowley is Good With Kids tag). Great choice for when you need a feel-good, return-to-Tadfield piece to cheer you up.

Like Any Rose It’s Not Itself (G) by infinitevariety (@infinitevariety​)

A single white rose grows from one of Crowley’s plants. Which is weird, because none of his plants are rose bushes.

My notes: This fic is so incredibly sweet and fluffy, especially the ending. If you’re in the mood for unintentional love confessions with a miraculous twist, then this is it. It just makes your heart feel good, and who doesn’t need that right now?

Good Neighbours, Good Fences (and Other Misunderstandings) (Explicit) by out_there (@out-there-tmblr​)

The first time Crowley meets his downstairs neighbour, Aziraphale is breaking into his flat. He's not what Crowley imagined in a burglar -- he's fussy, old-fashioned, and surprisingly adorable. Crowley is intrigued, Aziraphale is ready to share a good wine... and possibly more.

My notes: Incredibly hot neighbors-to-lovers human AU with a dose of hurt/comfort and a delightful abundance of feels. Aziraphale is a well adjusted book author, Crowley is a consultant with a few hang-ups that lead to some misunderstandings that need ironing out. Overall, a thoroughly satisfying journey of smut with feelings.

Those are my recs for today. The longer I’m stuck in the house with children, the more I’ll add to this, I’m sure. So stay tuned! In the meantime, enjoy the above, and please feel free to reblog and add your own recs!

Stay healthy and safe, you ineffable nerds. <33

[ourownsideimagines]

Ignorance is No Longer Bliss (Aziraphale x Nephilim!Reader)

Characters: Aziraphale, Nephilim!Reader, Crowley, Hastur and Gabriel (briefly).

Requested: yes

Requested by: @crowley-is-a-danger-noodle

Point of View: Third Person

Summary: (Name)’s being followed - and then a mysterious man approaches her, and everything changes. Forever.

Warnings: Stalking. Some angst, but mostly fluff.

Words: 2768

A/N: I am SO sorry. It’s been like 5 months since I posted a story. Also, mostly unedited.

---

Moonlight.

(Name) could see the figure of a man in the moonlight that spilled from between their curtains. (Name) was stiff, trying not to breathe too deeply, and trying not to alert the man of their consciousness.

He wasn’t moving. All he did was stand there. He had no real defining features, from what they could tell in the dark. There was a strange, massive blob on the top of his head, and he smelled of cigarette smoke. A part of them wanted to scream. A part of them almost did, when he opened his mouth and spoke - his words made no sense, and they suddenly got the feeling that someone, or something else, was looming over their other shoulder.

Then, they were waking up. Sunlight bathed the room in a golden glow, from open curtains (name) was sure they had closed the night before. (Name) tried to brush off what they had seen the night before. They told themself it was a dream, but deep down they knew it was something more.

(Name) couldn’t remember having fallen asleep last night.

In spite of their worry, (name) got ready for the day and headed out. They were low on almost everything in the kitchen, and would need to at least get water, and snacks. The shop wasn’t a very far walk, so they decided to skip the bus in favor of enjoying the warm weather. This time of year, it was rarely ever warm.

But even at the shop they didn’t feel very safe. (Name) would glance over their shoulder, and the isle would be empty. Or someone would be rounding the corner, whisking themself away. While getting themself some coffee grounds, they had met the eyes of a man, but once they looked away they could hardly remember what he looked like.

Had he had purple eyes?

No. No, that was ridiculous.

Yet, they couldn’t get the thought out of their head. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. And it became even clearer when another man, dressed in all black with the exception of a silver scarf around his neck approached them. He tilted his sunglasses down, allowing them to see the yellow snake-slit eyes behind them. (Name) dropped their shopping on the ground, and almost backed away from him.

“I need you to listen to me.” He spoke softly. “There’s two men following you, probably more. The fellow in the grey coat, and the short bald one.” (Name) didn’t look behind them, but they could picture the two in her mind. They had been following (name) around, now that they were really thinking about it. The man with the purple eyes and the grey coat. And his friend. It was all coming together in their head.

“And there are two more, very dangerous men, waiting for you at your flat.”

The man from the dream. (Name) was itching to run.

“I can help you,” He spoke sincerely. “My friend and I have been trying to contact you for months now.”

“Who the hell are you?” They demanded.

“My name,” The man paused, and glanced over their shoulder. “You can, uh. You can call me Anthony.”

“That sounds fake. You don’t look like an Anthony.” (Name) frowned.

“Well, if I said my other name, we’d be in more than a little bit of trouble.” Anthony grumbled, then sighed. “I really do want to help you. You just need to trust me.”

“I don’t even know you.” (Name) said. “How do I know you don’t have bad intentions as well?”

“You don’t.” He said. “But I’m just the first one to approach you. And I’ll probably be the only one to offer you help without trying to kill you first.”

“You’re not making this situation any better.” (Name)’s voice was shaking. They had to get away.

“Yeah, that’s never been my strong suit.” Anthony muttered, more to himself than to (name).

“Look, just, leave me alone.” They tried to walk past him, but he stopped them.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“Excuse me?” They scoffed.

“Your age. How old?” He repeated, treating them like a child. (Name) jerked their arm away from him.

“That’s none of your-” They started, only for him to cut them off.

“Thirty eight?” He guessed, which made their lips seal tightly. He was right. “You don’t look a day over twenty-three.” (Name)’s heart began to race. Even now, when they couldn’t see the men trailing them, they could feel their eyes burning into their back.

“What do you want from me?” They all but moaned in misery.

“I want to keep you safe.” Anthony insisted. “And we can only stand here for so much longer before they realise who I am.”

“I just want this to be over with.” They said.

“I’m afraid it’s only just begun.” He glanced behind him and frowned deeply. “C’mon, follow me.”

Anthony had an old, but fast car. (Name) was holding on for dear life as he spread through the streets. Buildings rushed by, people came so close to getting hit, and yet, (name) knew that they were safe in this car. And when it came to a stop, they found that their breathing was easier than they’d thought it would be.

Anthony helped them out of the car.

“Crowley.” He said.

“Excuse me.”

“You said Anthony sounded fake. You’re right. My name is Crowley.”

“Crowley…” They repeated. It shouldn’t have sounded more realistic, but it did. Crowley suited him a whole lot better than Anthony.

“Come on, we better get inside.” Crowley led them to the corner bookshop - they had no idea where they were, but the crowded streets and sidewalks made them think they were far from where they had started.

The bookshop was messy, but it seemed methodical. Like whoever had made the mess had done so with intent. All the piles were neat, no books were bent or splayed open. Stacks piled the walls, and (name) felt a bit more at ease in the homey territory.

“Crowley, you’re back already?” A voice called from the back - another man, from what (name) could tell. After a minute, a plump man dressed in a nice, brown suit with a beige coat appeared. He had soft features, including the shock of blond hair on his head, and kind blue eyes. “How did the meeting go-” He stopped in his tracks when he saw them. “Oh,” His eyes widened. “Crowley-”

“Didn’t exactly go as planned, Angel.” Crowley sighed. “Those pricks from above were following them.”

“Oh, dear.” The man rubbed his hands together. “I do hope my friend here didn’t scare you, my dear.”

“I was already scared,” (Name) said, their voice surprisingly steady. “I just want to know what the hell is going on. Who are those men? What do they want with me? Who the hell are you people?”

“I’ll make the tea.” Crowley grumbled before going into the back room.

“Follow me, please.” The blond man said before following after. (Name) sighed, but did as they were told. When they entered the back room, the first thing they noticed that Crowley had a tea set, with tea already prepared, waiting for them. The blond man gestured to one of his plush seats, which (name) collapsed into.

“Here,” Crowley passed them a tea cup, which they took with a short thanks. Crowley handed another to Aziraphale, and took the last one for himself. (Name) took a slow sip, surprised to find it exactly how they liked it.

“So, my dear,” The blond man started. “I feel I should introduce myself. I am Aziraphale,” He said. (Name) nodded, but it was like words were stuck to their tongue. “You must be very confused right now-”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted. “Beating around the bush isn’t going to help us.” (Name) took another, nervous sip of their tea.

“You’re right,” Aziraphale sighed. He turned back to (name). “My dear, do you believe in Heaven?”

“I-” They stopped. Their mother had been rather religious when growing up, but (name) had never found themself to be a true believer. “Not really?”

“Do you know what a Nephilim is?” Crowley piped in next.

“A what?”

“A Nephilim.” Aziraphale repeated. “The offspring of a human and an Angel.”

“Oh,” They said. “That’s, uh… Nice?” (Name) took another long sip of their tea.

“Not really.” Crowley said bluntly. “Angels don’t like Nephlims, they think they’re disgraceful. Demons want to use them against Heaven.”

“You’re talking like this is all real - that’s ridiculous!”

“Not really,” Crowley set his tea cup down in spite of the fact that he hadn’t really had any. “What do you know about your father?”

“I don’t have one. He left before I was born.” (Name) brought the cup to rest in their lap. “I really don’t see how any of this is going to explain what the hell is going on-” they stopped when Crowley snapped. The cup became heavier in their hands, and they looked down to see that the tea had been refilled. They looked back up in shock.

“Crowley-” Aziraphal began, but Crowley brushed him off.

“Think about it,” Crowley started. “Have you ever done anything in your life that you couldn’t explain?” The nervousness was coming back. They could feel their hands shaking. “Ever heard voices, but you didn’t know where they were coming from?” They took in a deep breath, sure that in a moment they could calm themself. They just needed Crowley to stop talking. “What about your mother?” That broke it - the memories of their mother, lying in bed, on the verge of death.

She should have died. (Name) prayed every night that she wouldn’t. They went to the hospital, and they made sure their mother was comfortable. They had prayed. And they had wished. And they had crossed their fingers, and cursed the world - and their mom had survived.

The tea cup fell to the floor, staining the carpet as (name) rushed out of the back room, but not out of the shop. Their heart was beating so fast, they expected it to come crashing out of their chest. Hot tears rolled down their cheeks, and they slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle their sobbing.

It was a minute before Aziraphale came to see how they were doing. He looked rather nervous. As he approached them, (name) tried not to flinch away. He offered them a handkerchief, which they took gratefully. Once they had calmed themself enough, (name) took in a deep gasp of air, and spoke.

“What are you?” They asked. “Are you a-” They stopped themself. They weren’t sure. “Are you a demon?”

“Oh, heaven’s no!” Aziraphale said. “I’m actually, quite the opposite.”

“You’re an angel?” Aziraphale gave a short nod. “And Crowley is… He’s an angel too?”

“Ah, no, he would be a demon, actually.”

“This is insane.” (Name) said. “This is fucking insane.”

“I feel I must apologize for my friend’s behavior. He’s not exactly… subtle.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” They glanced towards the back room, but could not see nor hear the demon. “So, uh… What am I then? Am I a… what did you call it?”

“Nephilim.” Aziraphale confirmed. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

“So that’s why those men were in my house last night? And why those other men were following me at the shop?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded. “You see, Crowley and I… Well, a couple of years ago we helped stop Armageddon-”

“You two stopped the literal end of the world?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded again. “We deviated from Heaven and Hell. And when we got word about you, we… Well, we felt a need to help.”

“Why?”

“Because Heaven would kill you otherwise, and Hell would use you as a weapon.” Crowley had suddenly appeared from the back room, making (name) jump in shock.

“He’s quite right.” Aziraphale sighed. (Name) watched him frown - they didn’t like when he frowned. It didn’t suit him.

“Okay… Well, what do we do now?”

That was how (name) ended up where they were now. A cozy cottage far from the cities, and quiet, and safe. With their favorite angel and hard-headed demon.

They were currently making dinner when they heard the front door open and close.

“Crowley?” They called out.

“No, my dear, it’s me.” Aziraphale replied, and appeared a few moments later. He had taken off his coat, leaving him in just the brown suit. (Name) had thought it a bit silly that their roommates always wore the same clothes, but never said anything. It just meant more closet space for them. “What are you making? It smells divine.”

“I’m making chicken and biscuits. My mum used to make it all the time when I was young, and I found the recipe in one of the cookbooks she gave me.” (Name) set aside the spoon they were using to stir the gravy, and turned to face Aziraphale. “Close up early today, then?”

“Yes - it was a rather slow day, and those who came in seemed to get the hint fairly quickly.”

“Have you ever thought of stocking up on books you’re actually willing to part with?”

“I’ve tried, but my dear, books are very easy to get attached to. I once purchased a bible that was simply falling apart at the seams, thinking ai may be able to sell it to someone else, but it’s um… it’s still sitting in the back room. I refurbished it.”

“Silly angel,” (Name) laughed. “You could just… miracle away the attention. Couldn’t you?”

“Heaven and Hell are only so tolerant of mine and Crowley’s miracles. Gabriel would have our heads on spikes if he thought he could actually get rid of us.”

“You could just put all your books in the house… make a basement library or something.” (Name) turned their attention back to the stove.

“That… isn’t such a bad idea.”

“I’ve got a few of those as well, if you need them.” (Name) moved back to the gravy as it began to bubble, and turned down the heat.

“Crowley has enough of them. What is he doing today anyway?” Aziraphale came to stand beside the,, watching as they continued preparing the food.

“Not sure. Said he was gonna be out for a good part of the day. Didn’t say if he was gonna be home for supper.” They said. “Pass me the glass pan.” Aziraphale grabbed the pan, which had the uncooked biscuits, and handed it to (name), who set it on the counter.

“Then it may just be us?”

“Seems that way, yeah.” (Name) poured the gravy over the uncooked biscuits, and then moved to set the pan in the oven. “Alright, we have about twenty minutes until this is finished. Want to read a book?” (Name) walked over to the other end of the counter, where they had set their copy of Dorothy Must Die by Danielle Paige.

“That sounds delightful.” Aziraphale snapped, and an older, more weathered book appeared in his hand. (Name) walked to the living room, their angelic friend following close after. They sat down on the plush couch Crowley had conjured up when they’d first moved in, and Aziraphale sat beside them.

This had become a habit of theirs - (name) would have their book, Aziraphale would have his, and they would sit together and read. They enjoyed the quiet, and the company. Even Crowley would sometimes curl up with them, in his snake form, and take a nap.

(Name) leaned into Aziraphale, getting comfortable, and let out a hum of contentment as Aziraphale put an arm around their shoulders, using his other hand to hold the book open as he read.

One thing (name) had noticed during these readings of theirs, was the way that Aziraphale sometimes muttered what he was reading under his breath. It had been a bit distracting at first, but (name) had grown to find it adorable. In fact, they thought a lot of things about the angel were adorable - breathtaking, even.

They found themself dozing in spite of the circumstances, their book long forgotten in their lap, and comfortably snuggled into the Angel’s side, legs tucked up beside them on the couch. They could stay like this forever, they thought to themself.

And when Aziraphale noticed that they had fallen asleep against him, he smiled. Lifting up one hand, he snapped, pulling downward a miracle from the heavens, so that the food would not go wasted. It was packed away for another time, because as much as the Angel loved food, he loved the time spent with the dear Nephilim a little bit more.

[dickwheelie]

Day 16: Flowers

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

This one was fun to write. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now, but never expected to actually turn it into a full fic. This prompt was the perfect opportunity. Enjoy!

_________

If there was one thing Crowley truly didn’t understand about humanity, it was their ability to be superstitious about all the wrong things. Angels, demons, witches, miracles, and yes, even God, these were all real—and, true, to their credit the humans did have their odd beliefs about all those things. But there were so, so many more things they believed in that were complete and utter nonsense.

Vampires, for instance, were entirely fictional. Black cats were just like every other kind of cat, and had nothing to do with bad luck—or good luck, for that matter.

Crowley spent centuries laughing behind his hand at the utter ridiculousness humans were capable of. He loved them for it, but it was hilarious all the same.

Then, one day, Crowley did what he did best: he played himself.

You see, Crowley was always keen on using humans’ more outlandish beliefs against them in his demonic work. He was the one who started the rumors about stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, after all. One day, sometime in the 1700s, Crowley was inspired to whisper to a woman at a florist’s display that if she bought a flower, she’d be able to find out if the object of her affections was in love with her. (He really just wanted her to buy a flower because of the bee that was taking up residence on it.)

When she asked him how that could possibly be true, Crowley did what he was second-best at, and improvised. “You haven’t heard? They say that if you pick off the petals, one by one, saying ‘He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me,’ and so on, the last petal will reveal the truth. It’s a well-known witches’ spell, they do it all the time.”

This was, in and of itself, not the biggest mistake Crowley could have made. His big mistake came when, several weeks later, out of sheer curiosity and nothing more, he tried it himself.

He told himself it was pointless anyway, because he didn’t have anyone in particular he was thinking of. He told himself that he only used the pronoun “he” because it was what he’d said to the woman. He told himself, as he plucked the petals off the daisy he’d picked, that the result didn’t matter in the least bit.

“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not—” Crowley paused and stared down at the little, decimated daisy. One petal remained. Crowley slowly picked it off and tossed it away. “He loves me.”

It was pure chance. Fifty-fifty. A flip of a coin. It meant, literally, nothing at all.

A decade later, Crowley found himself at a garden party, his part of the Arrangement complete (blessing a boy who would later grow up to do great things, apparently), and utterly bored. Wandering through the bushes at the edges of the garden, away from the guests, he picked a flower on impulse and tried the game again. “He loves me, he loves me not . . .”

In the end, he came up with “He loves me” again. Well, there was nothing strange about getting two heads in a row. Crowley picked another flower and tried again. Anything was better than doing back to the party to mingle.

“He loves me,” said Crowley, as he picked the last petal. He frowned. Three in a row was odd. But, he supposed, not unreasonably so. It was all about probability, wasn’t it? The previous flips had no effect on the current one, after all. He picked another flower.

For the rest of that afternoon and well into the evening, even after the party had ended, Crowley sat in a far corner of the garden in a feverish daze and pulled petals off of flowers.

Every. Single. One. Turned. Out. The. Same.

“He bloody, bloody well loves me!” Crowley cried, tossing away the nth flower. He’d lost count long ago; the numbers no longer mattered. Probability could sod right off. Fifty-fifty, his arse. This many in a row was simply impossible. There must be something wrong.

Maybe, he thought with a stroke of optimism, this bunch of flowers were bred for their odd-numbered petals. That way, he’d always get the same result. Well, he’d just have to try other flowers then, wouldn’t he?

Crowley immediately made his way to the nearest park and plucked a random perennial from the ground. The result was the same. Growling in frustration, he picked another one. The same. He picked a flower and counted its petals out, one by one. Twelve. Brilliant. This one definitely wouldn’t work.

But again, the result was the same. Even though it shouldn’t have been possible, Crowley plucked the last petal just as he said “He loves me.”

Desperately, he tried again, this time starting on “He loves me not.” But again, the result was the same.

Crowley stood up from the pile of decimated flowers and stumbled over to the nearest park bench. What did it mean? He knew the answer, of course; he simply didn’t want to admit it to himself. Because all of this time he had, of course, been secretly thinking of Aziraphale. And because he’d come up with the little flower trick, it couldn’t possibly be real. So the only real explanation was that Crowley was doing this to himself; he’d reached a level of self-delusion so great that he’d caught himself in a loop of misery, trying to convince himself that Aziraphale loved him when he knew it wasn’t true.

But then again, Crowley thought with a tilt of his head, if he knew Aziraphale didn’t love him, why would the flowers think otherwise?

If Crowley was the only supernatural force involved here, why did the flowers insist on trying to prove him wrong?

Crowley didn’t even try to conceive of an answer to that. He made a beeline for the nearest pub and drowned out every voice left in his head that night.

For the next three centuries or so, Crowley simply tried to avoid flowers altogether. Best to just forget about the whole thing, he thought. And when the business of the holy water came up, it was one of the last things on his mind anyway. Soon after that, the Apocalypse kept him and Aziraphale busy for quite a while.

It was another few years after Armageddon that Crowley was reminded of the flowers again, and it wasn’t exactly because of the flowers themselves.

He was in the bookshop, as he was more often than not these days, lounging on the sofa as Aziraphale made himself tea in the kitchen. Crowley hadn’t been intending to nap, but it was a warm, slow summer day, and he felt himself dozing off.

He snapped awake, however, when he heard Aziraphale’s voice float in from the kitchen, casual as you please: “He loves me, he loves me not . . .”

Crowley was standing in the kitchen so quickly that reality itself might have looked back and forth from him to the sofa in confusion. Aziraphale did, at least.

“Crowley, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked him, alarmed. He was holding a red flower, and a vase full of a bouquet of them was sitting on the table.

Crowley pointed at the vase. First things first. “Where’d you get those?”

Aziraphale stared at him, confused. “Erm. Miss Device gave me this bouquet this morning, she’s got so many of these flowers around her house. Very kind of her. Spruces up the room, I think. Crowley, are you quite all right?”

“ ‘M fine. What were you doing with that flower?”

Aziraphale looked down at the flower he was holding, which was conspicuously missing a few petals. He reddened just a bit. “Ah. It’s a bit silly, really, but I was doing that little game, you know, ‘He loves me, he loves me not.’ ” He let out an embarrassed laugh. “Just for fun. No other reason.”

Crowley took a step closer to him. His heart was beating quite fast all of a sudden, without his permission. “Aziraphale, d’you remember the first time you played that game?”

“The first . . . ?” It might have been his imagination, but Crowley could have sworn that Aziraphale’s eyes went wide for just a moment. “Erm. Well, if I remember correctly, it must have been sometime around the 1700s. I think.”

They were standing quite close to one another, now. “Aziraphale,” Crowley said quietly. “If I tell you something completely embarrassing and ridiculous, will you promise not to laugh?”

Aziraphale swallowed, but nodded solemnly. “Only if you let me tell you something completely embarrassing and ridiculous first.”

“Hm. Maybe we should just say both of them at the same time. Get it over with.”

A twinkle flickered in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Oh, good idea, dear boy.”

“Alright, on the count of three,” said Crowley. He could barely contain his grin.

Aziraphale seemed to be having a similar problem. “One . . .”

“Two . . .”

“Three!”

***

Crowley stopped trying to avoid flowers after that day. He also stopped picking petals off of them. So did Aziraphale. After all, the point of the game was to find out if the object of your affections was in love with you.

No point in playing, really, if you already knew the answer.

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - 1766BC - Peniel

Notes: Went back to the Bibbly again for this one :) Been a while, hasn’t it? You can always tell when I’ve had sleep. There are words everywhere!

1766BC - Peniel

Everything was in place.

The extended family of the man were across the stream, along with all his beasts and the possessions of his household. The man remained, setting up a small campfire, and looking around. He was waiting for something. Or, more accurately, someone.

Aziraphale dusted down his robes, checking that they looked pristine and spotless. It wouldn’t do to make a bad impression. There was a smudge of dust on one sleeve and he frowned, rubbing at it, before performing a surreptitious miracle to get rid of it.

“Oh for Satan’s sake…”

Aziraphale’s heart sank. “Oh no…” He turned and found an indignant demon glaring at him. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? Here he comes, stepping on my toes, and he asks what I want?”

“Stepping on your–” Aziraphale puffed up indignantly. “Excuse me, but this chap is one of ours!”

“Yours?” Crawly said, hands on his hips. “Excuse me, who tempted him to steal his brother’s birthright? And con all those animals out of his uncle? And have it away with every member of the female household?” The demon shook his head. “Nope. He’s ours. Definitely ours.”

“He’s of the house of Abraham!” Aziraphale protested.

“Ooh!” Crawly made a face. “Some pedigree there! Is this the same Abraham who would’ve offed his own lad?”

“That was a test!” Aziraphale wailed. “Don’t keep on about it! He was never going to hurt him!”

“No, course not.” Crawly waved a hand. “Just tying him up and putting a knife to his throat. Definitely not at all traumatising for the poor little sod.” He took a step closer, in what Aziraphale could only assume was meant to be a threatening stance. “Bugger off, angel. I’ve worked hard on this one!”

“And I haven’t?” Aziraphale bristled indignantly. “I was the one who blessed him! Who guided his path!”

“Who made him have sex with the help?”

“I–” Aziraphale glowered at him. “You know very well that was Rachel’s own idea!”

Crawly made a face. “Yeah. Tell me again how they belong to your lot.” He peered out through the branches of the trees. “What are you here for anyway?” His eyes flicked over the angel and he arched an eyebrow. “Looking all dressed up as well…” His mouth opened. “This is a manifestation for a blessing, isn’t it?”

“Um…” Aziraphale fidgeted. “Well. Yes. Sort of.”

“Sort of? How can you ‘sort of’ manifest for a blessing?”

The angel huffed, folding his arms. “I don’t see why I should tell you, demon.”

Crawly stuck out his forked tongue. “Fine,” he snorted. “You’re blushing enough to tell me I’m right.” He drew back from the bushes and walked in a tight circle. “So… here’s the thing. I’m here to do a bit of tempting.” He considered the angel again. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Aziraphale blinked, bemused. “I beg your pardon?”

Crawly made an impatient gesture with his hand. “We play for it.” He made three hand gestures. “You do one, I do one, and one of us wins.”

“That’s hardly fair, when you know the rules and I don’t.”

“Ugh!” Crawly threw back his head, rolling his eyes. “Satan’s sake, angel!” He huffed noisily. “Fine. I have dice with me. We can use those.”

“No!” Aziraphale said firmly. “I’m here to do a blessing and I’m…” The word stuck on his tongue.

“Go on,” Crawly goaded, grinning. “Say it. Say you’re ‘damned’.”

Aziraphale scowled at him. “I’m jolly well going to do it.” He strode out through the bushes, then yelped in dismay as a demon smacked squarely into his back, bearing him to the ground. “Crawly!”

“Can’t do it, angel!” Crawly hissed close to his ear. “My lad. My job.” He vaulted off Aziraphale’s back and sprinted, hiking up his robes, sandals flapping on the loose shingle of the riverbank. “Oi! Oi, Jacob!”

“Crawly!” Aziraphale’s voice reverberated with divine outrage.

“Jacob!” Crawly yelled even louder. “Glad tidings! Great news!”

The human scrambled to his feet, whipping around, rapture and dread on his face in equal measure.

“Ignore him!” Aziraphale bellowed, gaining ground on the demon.

Crawly spun around with a wide grin and snapped his fingers and the world shifted sideways so sharply that Aziraphale lost his footing. When he found it – or some semblance of it – it took him a moment to make sense of why his robes were over his head. And more specifically, why he was upside down.

Ten minutes of fighting later, he managed to untangle himself from the tree Crawly had dropped him in and lowered himself to the ground.

“You–” A series of suitably bad words lined themselves up on Aziraphale’s tongue and he bit down on every single one of them, stamping back in the direction of the riverbank.

A squeak of pain greeted him, before he even stepped out from between the bushes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Crawly yelped. “That’s not what I said!”

Aziraphale peered out through the trees, then clapped a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Crawly was on his belly on the ground and Jacob was sitting on his back, pulling his legs up in an unforgiving wrestling lock. “I’m just saying!” the demon protested, scrabbling at the ground, “That maybe you want to consider–”

He grunted hard, the air driven from his lungs as Jacob flipped them both.

Aziraphale stepped out among the bushes and sat down on a rock. With a mild flourish of one hand, he swept away the grass and bark stains from his robe and, for good measure, added a divine glow so Crawly couldn’t miss him.

“Angel!” Crawly scrabbled at the stone, trying to break Jacob’s grip on him. Say what you wanted to about shepherds, but they were sturdy fellows. Hefting a skinny demon was probably nothing compared to wrestling a stubborn ram into submission. “Angel, help!”

Aziraphale took his time straightening his robes, then folded his hands in his lap.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaangel!” Crawly wailed as the human managed to pin him again.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said innocently. “I thought this was your job? Weren’t those your exact words?”

Crawly managed to break Jacob’s grip on him, staggering to his feet. The human was back on his feet too, his centre low, his eyes fixed on the silver-outlined figure of the demon in the moonlight, sparks of gold from the fire casting strange highlights.

“You can have him,” Crawly panted. “S’all yours.”

Jacob charged like a bull and Crawly made a sound oddly like “neeeee?” as the human’s shoulder caught him in the middle and lifted him off his feet.

“It looks like you annoyed him,” Aziraphale said helpfully, trying very hard not to laugh as the demon futilely pummelled on the human’s meaty shoulder.

“Not helpful!” Crawly exclaimed, wriggling and squirming like the snake he was.

Aziraphale made a show of examining his nails, while Crawly was hauled, carried, rolled and generally twisted into forms that no human – and possibly no demon, except one who was by nature a serpent – could possibly survive.

“I do wonder how the temptation is going, dear fellow,” he said, adjusting his pinkie ring.

“Bastard!” Crawly wailed.

It should have grown boring and embarrassing very quickly, but Aziraphale had to admit it only grew more entertaining when Crawly – in a fit of desperation – shifted back into his serpent form. If anything, that enraged the human even more and abruptly, Crawly found himself closely resembling the shape of a pretzel. When he finally managed to untangle himself and slunk behind Aziraphale’s rock, he was breathing hard.

In the name of fair play and mercy, Aziraphale drew a shield over them both for a moment.

“Enjoying yourself, angel?” Crawly groaned, rubbing at his limbs.

“Maybe next time, you don’t try and interfere in my business?” Aziraphale suggested primly. He peered down at him and winced. “Those are some rather nasty bruises, aren’t they?”

The demon threw a black look up at him. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

Aziraphale sighed and reached down, pressing a hand to Crawly’s shoulder. It wasn’t much of a miracle, but it was enough to shrink the purpling bruises to faded green and gold. “I’ll step in, my dear. You really aren’t built for wrestling.”

Crawly stared at him. “You’re… you know you don’t have to wrestle him. He’ll probably be delighted to see you.”

Aziraphale rose from the rock. “Therein lies the trouble, my dear. You didn’t let me finish. He was here to confront an envoy of the Almighty.” He tapped his chest. “It seems he assumed that confront meant combat.”

“But you’re–” Crawly staggered to his feet. “You can’t.”

Aziraphale smiled slightly at him, though not without a little sadness. “I was a soldier, Crawly. I’ll be perfectly fine.” He turned and stepped back through the veil to meet Jacob head-on.

To his credit, the human did put up a decent fight, although Aziraphale had to hide a little relief when – inexplicably – Jacob’s hip popped out of its socket. The angel didn’t allow his eyes to flick to Crawly, though he had a sneaking suspicion it was less his leg-lock and more demonic intervention that had caused the damage.

The poor fellow was black and blue all over, bleeding from the nose and rasping with every breath when the sun began to crest the horizon.

What could have been a brutal final blow, Aziraphale offered with gentleness, pinning the man, but a hand behind his head to shield him from the worst of the impact. “We are finished here, Son of Isaac.”

Jacob grasped at his arm, the arm currently locked across Jacob’s throat. “No, Lord,” he gasped out, blood frothing the corners of his mouth. “Bless me. Bless me before we are finished. I will not release you until you bless me!”

Aziraphale looked at the proud, bloody, beaten human beneath him. “Give me your name.”

Jacob gave him a pink-toothed smile. “Jacob.”

Aziraphale drew his arm free easily of the man’s grip and touched his brow. “Your name will no longer be Jacob,” he said gently, letting the blessing pour into every word. “You have struggled with God and with Men, and you have won; so your name will be Israel.”

Jacob struggled to sit up, staring at him. “Tell me your name,” he asked, his hand at his aching hip.

“Why do you want to know my name?” Aziraphale shook his head and rose. He touched the man’s face, offering him one last smile, then stepped back from him and back into the place where only Crawly could see him.

The demon was sitting on the rock, arms wrapped around his upraised knees.

“Not bad,” he said quietly.

“Hm?” Aziraphale limped over, far stiffer and much sorer than he liked.

“You,” Crawly said. “That.” He gave Aziraphale a lop-sided smile. “Didn’t know you had it in you.” He made a face. “But you’re a right state now.” He made a sharp gesture and the blood and dirt and stained vanished from Aziraphale’s robes.

“Oh!” Aziraphale blinked in surprise, looking down at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

The demon unfolded, getting back to his feet. “And you could’ve let me get pummelled all night, but you took the beating instead. Call us even.”

“Even,” Aziraphale agreed, then added, “but if you ever drop me halfway up an oak tree again, I will leave you to be pummelled all night long.”

The demon grinned at him. “That’s fair.”

[macabretrees]

Title: Reprimand A/N: Read here on ao3 @diversetolkien Summary:  When Aziraphale makes an offhanded comment about snakes and their eyes, Crowley takes it to heart. Upon realizing what he's done, Aziraphale moves to make amends. or Crowley is insecure about a lot of things--his eyes included. Unfortunately, Aziraphale forgets this when comforting a girl who is terrified by a snake toy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't often that Crowley enjoyed his time outside. There was something about the wide outdoors that made him feel exposed. The demon couldn't put his finger on it, but his kind didn't do the light. Not when they'd waged an entire war trying to escape it, and not when they bore the scars of the Fall as plain as day.

Crowley wore the glasses to cover his and had unintentionally evolved the gesture into covering his entire body. He kept to himself often, drew his posture in, and hunched his shoulders. He kept away from people--too close and they'd see his eyes, or smell the burning, or notice the way he leaned too freely like a snake or stayed still like a statue.

And when he had to be in public, it was with Aziraphale. He bared it for Aziraphale. His angel who loved the light, who loved to be exposed, and who loved to be conversational (to the point of dragging Crowley along with him). Today was one of those days.

Between the ice-cream man and the friendly dog owners, Aziraphale had spoken to just about everyone in the park while Crowley lurked behind him. It was hard to make conversation with his partner when he'd given his full attention to the humans, but the demon wasn't too bothered. It was nice to watch Aziraphale interact with the very beings he was meant to protect. It was in his nature after all, and Crowley found himself leeching onto the angel's happiness.

Though today it was short-lived.

Aziraphale was midsentence in his conversation with a park worker about the different types of plants lining the walkway and their care when a child came ramming into his legs at full force. Crowley looked down slightly concerned but hid his gaze behind his glasses. He'd always had a soft spot for children, but this was better left to Aziraphale.

"Oh dear, little one, what on Earth is the matter?" Aziraphale, ever the angel, knelt down to the distraught child's level. She was a mess of tears and hiccups, though upon settling her eyes on the angel she seemed to calm. Crowley kept a distance away, just in case the little girl's gaze wandered.

The little girl, seemingly calm, managed to gather her stammering words and still her quivering lips, just long enough to say two words: "S-snake eyes!"

Aziraphale made to turn over his shoulder, the gesture barely noticeable to anyone accept Crowley. But the girl's whimpers reclaimed his attention, and Crowley's throat suddenly felt very tight. Not to mention, he felt guilty. It was he who caused humanity to fear snake after all.

"What on earth do you mean, little one? Have you seen a snake?" There was a slight edge in his voice, though barely audible to human ears. But Crowley didn't have to think twice to know what the angle worried about. Even with his shades on, at the right angle, the sun could--

"My-my brother g-got a t-toy that w-was a snake and h-he chased me a-around with it, and I-I got scared. It-its eyes were scary, l-like on a movie." Whatever calm Aziraphale had placed upon her seemed to disappear as she willed imaged of whatever movie had traumatized her back into her mind. Once more, she was a mess of tears and hiccups.

Though Crowley was happy. It hadn't been him.

"Oh dear one, come here." She threw herself onto the angle like a life source, her tiny arms trying to encircle his body. For someone who hated getting his clothes dirty, Aziraphale seemed little bothered by a crying child smothering her wet face in his jacket.

"They are ghastly things, aren't they dear. Bright and yellow, positively scary for one such as yourself."

The relief had withered away, and all that was left was a feeling of emptiness. Crowley felt more self-aware than he had in a long time. Bright and yellow? Ghastly? Was that really what Aziraphale thought of his eyes? A hopeful part of him wanted to believe otherwise, but the demonic part of him--the one that whispered uncertainties and insecurities in his ears, learned towards the more reasonable side. The girl hadn't even described what kind of eyes she'd seen, yet Aziraphale had just offered a description of his.

"Angel, I just realized I had some business I needed to attend to." He said with a slight hysteria in his voice, trying his absolute best to sound casual. And judging by the angel's pure obliviousness, he'd accomplished it.

"Crowley do you think you could wait? On top of being terrified this poor girl is lost. I was wondering if you could help me look for her brother! She says he's here."

"Oh, I don't know about that. With the ghastly, yellow eyes, maybe I wouldn't be the best person for the job."

Now there was a realization, and Aziraphale whipped his head around like he'd been slapped.

"I hadn't even realized, Crowley, oh goodness I didn't mean--" He was torn between leaving the girl alone and running after the demon, but ultimately his nature and Crowley's reprimand stayed his movements.

"It's alright, Aziprahle. You said what you needed to say, no use in arguing."

Whatever Aziraphale said, Crowley didn't hear. In a rush, he vacated the park.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aziraphale had nearly thrown himself into a mad frenzy searching for the demon. As soon as he'd relocated the little girl and her brother, and given the latter a stern scolding about teasing his sister, he'd made his way to his book shop. It had been a silly mistake, as there was no way Crowley would return to the shop. Not when Aziraphale had hurt him.

Now, his sanctuary of safety had been anything but. His largest insecurities had been spat in his face, and Aziraphale had been the cause of them all. He ran to the phone and dialed Crowely's number, waiting anxiously as the dial tone went on and on. With every ring, his heart plummeted, and when the phone went to voicemail, he stopped breathing.

The right thing to do was to hang up and wait, and while Aziraphale did the former he hesitated to do the latter. Crowley wanted to be alone. That much was obvious. But Aziraphale was selfish at his core, especially when it came to Crowley. What he'd done was inconsiderate and terrible, especially considering how insecure he knew Crowley was. And while Aziraphale meant no harm, his habit of running his mouth had hurt the one he loved the most.

Moreover, encroaching on his privacy would no doubt hurt him more. The angel sighed and redialed Croweley's number. When the phone went to voice mail, he did the proper thing and left a heartfelt message.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Crowley stood awkwardly outside of the bookshop just as the sun settled in the sky. There weren't many people out, and they're certainly weren't many people out near the bookshop. According to its erratic hours, today it was closed. That said, Crowley had the key, and was invited to visit whenever he wanted.

However, the more he stood in silence, the more he thought that showing up was a bad idea. There was no telling how Aziraphale actually felt about him, and while he was initially devastated that his angel had found his eyes unappealing, making him uncomfortable would absolutely ruin Crowley.

Right, thought Crowley, best to count my losses and just go back to the flat. No use in c-

"Crowley?"

Just as he made to turn on his heel and disappear, the door swung open to reveal a rather dejected looking angel who's eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of Crowley. And while Crowley's heart jumped, he kept his expression schooled.

"Well do come in." Aziraphale broke the silence and stepped aside letting Crowley enter, and though the demon was hesitant he willed his body to move passed over the threshold. He showed himself to the sitting room as usual, though he stood awkwardly before he took his typical seat, and in fact waited for Aziraphale to seat himself first. Some might call it overreacting, but he genuinely did not know where he stood.

"I got your message." He avoided the angel's gaze as he spoke, instead, looking at his feet against the smooth floor.

"I see." Aziraphale cleared his throat, and straightened himself up in his chair, "You should know I meant it. What I said about snakes and their eyes--"

As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley tensed. He hadn't expected the angel to get to the point so quickly, but he was never one for beating around the bush. Crowley supposed he should be grateful, but acknowledging the situation at hand seemed to hurt him more than he thought.

"Was completely uncalled for. I admit it hadn't even registered to me that I'd offended you with what I said. But then you said what you said, then ran, and had gotten all small like you do when you get upset."

"I don't get all small." Crowley interjected, "I just don't like to be seen."

"Well regardless of what it was, I was in the wrong. There is nothing wrong with your eyes, Crowley. Or any other serpent's eyes for that matter. In all truth, your eyes are some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

The demon scoffed, "You don't mean that, angel."

He wanted so badly to believe Aziraphale, but he was just so uncertain. If his eyes had truly bothered him, what else about the demon did? And what if he was telling the truth? What if he had genuinely made a mistake. Would Crowley be willing to risk an episode like this again?

"I don't lie, Crowley." He was upon him in a second and had moved so quietly that Crowley hadn't even noticed he'd left his chair.

"I do, however, run my mouth. And I will endeavor to watch what I say in the future" Now his hands had made their way to the handles of Crowley's glasses, and gently he removed the shades from the demon's face.

"But make no mistake Crowley, your eyes are beautiful. You are beautiful. And that is something I will never take back"

Crowley would have looked away, but Aziraphale's gentle hold kept him from doing so. And in the angel's eyes was pure remorse and genuine love.

Suddenly, Crowley felt foolish for even making a fuss out of it. Maybe he could have just asked Aziraphale how he felt instead of storming off.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, Angel," Crowley said as his own fingers wrapped around Aziraphale's wrist.

"Nonsense, you're entitled to your feelings." Aziraphale chided, "never feel bad for speaking out."

Crowley sighed, and let his face lean in Aziraphale's grasp.

[occult-castiel]

Reversed Omens

Pretty much a proof of concept from this post. Also on ao3 cause why not

Heavenly Demons and Damned Angels

He was Falling.

It was a simple order, Aziraphale supposed.

“Just go be a leader. Confident.”

Angels in kilts lined the white halls of Heaven. It was always pristine. A sterile, perfect white. The most interesting thing about Heaven, he found out later, was that it really didn’t smell like anything. The second most was how there was a permanent coolness in the air. Enough to make a person just uncomfortable enough to notice. He always had goosebumps.

Everyone was in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder, kilts brushed together. Their chests bulged so far they almost seemed deformed, an unnatural curve. Rigid arms were lifted to their foreheads, a perfect, angular salute. Statues.

Aziraphale couldn't help but notice the burning anger in their eyes. The clicks of his heels reverberated in silence as he walked past dozens upon dozens of waiting soldiers.

Lucifer- Satan now- had gone against the Almighty Herself, and brought down a third of the angels with him. He’d seen them, some of them, Fall.

It started with a question, a slight attitude. And then their eyes would widen. Some dropped to the ground, a few clutched their chests as they stared into space. Some sobbed. And then the fire would come. He swallowed.

“Aziraphale!”

A man with a twisted, brown mustache yelled at him a few paces ahead. A row of stars adorned his white, militarist jacket. Not a single soldier flinched at the noise. Aziraphale fidgeted with his pinky ring.

“Yes?” he called out.

“Your platoon is waiting for you!” The man snapped, and a sword appeared in his hand. He shoved it towards him. “You’ll be on the front lines.”

He took the sword, and it lit, flames consumed its crystal-like blade. “The fire. It’ll hurt them, the demons.”

Demons. The ones born in fire. Fire and tears- “I-I don’t think that's the case.”

His eyes widened, “Is that dissent, soldier?”

He tried to smile, but looked at the floor. “No.”

“Good-”

“But,” a glare, “Our-our siblings, they’re born in fire, are they not?”

He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked to the man's face. “They are not our siblings. They’re the enemy.”

He could feel ten thousand eyes on him, staring at his back. All of them ready to fight. 

But Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had seen them cry. He saw angels go from having a bad day, maybe saying something not exactly tasteful, to having the worst possible day imaginable.

Angels weren’t meant to crumble and sob. And the fire. He could see the orange and red fury of flames dance out of the corner of his eye, as the General held him in place, examined him.

He was expected to burn them again. 

“I-can’t- can't someone else, lead them?” He tried to swallow again, but it wouldn't go down. “Someone more qu-qualified?”

He heard the clanks of the sword as it hit the ground before he realised he fell too.

It was like his blood was replaced with a liquified, concentrated panic. His breath quickened. All the whites meshed into one, singular blur as he looked from side to side.

He could feel his skin prickle. The goosebumps that littered his skin moments before multiplied. They pulled. Twisted. And then, then they burned. It was a slow and fast transition all at once. Each little craves between warmed first. Hotter, hotter, hotter.

He didn't hear himself scream, but he felt the hoarseness. His skin popped and crackled, busted open into flame.

All he could see was red.

He felt his wings erupt open. The fire jumped to them, and his back snapped backwards.

And then he was falling.

The solid ground had dissipated.

And he was Falling. There was an emptiness that spread from his chest and consumed

Everything was dark and red and seemed to go on for an eternity, or an instant. 

He passed out before the lake of burning sulfur consumed him.

---

God's green garden was the most radiant shade of green imaginable. The plants were perfect- crisp, spotless leaves. Each tree and bush was artistically spread. Nothing was too close to anything else. There were no uneven sides. Hints of color were dotted around in a way that made everything feel like it had a place, a purpose.

Anthony, Angel of the Eastern Gate, frowned. It was all… Boring.

He’d been stationed here for over two weeks. The flaming sword he’d been assigned hadn't left the spot on the wall he’d leaned it against. Nothing happened, nothing changed. Paradise.

“Go and look after the Almighty Human creations. Ensure no trouble comes.”

He’d agreed easily enough, the thought of actually seeing trouble was alluring. It seemed he missed a whole rebellion due to a particularly long nap, and was quite confused when he woke up. Briefly thought he managed to sleep all the way up to the holidays, with all the missing angels.

Not that he wanted to fight, but. Well. It would've been at least a little interesting, see what was happening.

Instead of walking around the same wall again and again and again. It was punishment, he supposed. All the other artists were still crafting the wonders of the Earth. Which was fair, sleeping for two weeks straight had been a little excessive.

But still, the wall was exactly 3,879 paces around. Which he’d counted. Several dozen times.

A soft yelp below caught his attention. He peered over the edge of the wall, and saw someone that definitely was not one of the humans.

He was plump, and blond hair was a ball of short, blond twists. The edges were frayed. A black tunic hung like a satin blanket around his pale skin. The contrast made him smile.

“Hey! You down there!”

The man jumped, his head flicked up and he squinted at him. “Uh, yes?”

“What’re you doing down there?” he called out.

He gave a response, but Anthony couldn’t really make it out. 

“What?”

The man repeated it, to no avail.

“Alright, alright look. I need you,” he pointed down, and motioned back upwards, “to come up here.”

He watched the blond man struggle to climb the wide of the wall for a few moments before sighing, and snapped.

The stranger materialized next to him, and instantly fell on the floor. He looked up and smiled, “Oh-oh thank you,” he stood himself up. “That would've been dreadful, to go up the whole thing.”

His eyes were like pools of plasma. Swirling streams of blue that engulfed his iris. The pupil, while circular, was more of a deep indigo than a true black. He’d made stars that looked like them, in a way. His wings were as dark as the depths of creation itself, the endless void they’d painted with spirals and nebulas.

They were like crow's wings. A very newly named animal. Cunning creatures, ones he could respect

“So, you’re a demon, hm?” His head tilted to the side as he examined him, from his feet to the crown of his head.

He sighed, “I’m afraid so. Aziraphale.”

“That’s an angelic name.”

Aziraphale looked like he was punched. ‘Well, I missed the renaming ceremony since I was a, uh, late arrival.”

“Well, that's unfortunate.” And he did, suppose, it was. A permanent reminder of something lost. “Could change it anyway.”

And that was a thought. The freedom to choose one's name. An identity crafted by yourself. A crow flew past them.

“Oh no, I quite like my given name.”

He chuckled. “Very demonic of you.”

The demon fidgeted with his tunic, and seemed to find the floor quite interesting. “Lord Beelzebub wasn't too pleased.”

He hummed as he watched the birds fly over distant trees. “Well, if a demons keeping his name, I suppose I could change mine. If I wanted, hm?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if that’s the best idea-”

“Oh I’m sure fallen angels know all about great ideas,” he stuck his hand out, “I think I’ll go with Crowley.”

Aziraphale returned the gesture and they shook. His nails were as black as his wings. “Crows,” he made the connection instantly. “Clever creatures, those one’s.”

“So what brings you to Eden, demon?”

He let out a long breath, shoulders slumped. “I’m supposed to be causing trouble, but I haven’t the slightest idea how to do that. Very,” he searched for a word, “vague. I think Lord Beelzebub sent me here to get me away from them, really.”

“I can relate to that one. Punishment and nonsense orders.” He motioned towards the garden, and then leaned towards him. “I'm only here because I slept through the rebellion. And then I'm given some silly order to protect this place-” he stopped, and snapped his gaze to Aziraphale. “And what's with this apple business?”

“Oh, I wouldn't know,” he shrugged, “No briefings in Hell it seems.”

“You know what I think,” He looked back to the greenery, “None of this makes any sense. If the Almighty’s so concerned with some fruit, why not put it on the moon?”

Aziraphale instantly glares at him, “That's- That’s borderline blasphemy! Are you trying to Fall?”

His eyebrows shot up, “And why would that concern you, hm? Shouldn’t you want more soldiers down there?”

“What I want is to never have to go back to that dreary place,” his nose scrunched as he scowled, “Hell desperately needs new plumping.” He motioned to his body, “And color pallet.”

He was- he was pouting. Was this seriously the dastardly enemy he’d been warned about?

Crowley cackled, laughter shook his whole body. “You,” he gave an airy laugh, “You know. Heaven, while clean, is rather dull too.”

“At least they have manners upstairs.”

He laughed again before he spoke. “You know,” he let the words drag out, “I bet they’d leave you alone for quite some time if you got the humans to eat that apple.” He put his hands in the air. “Not that I’m telling you to do that, of course.”

The demon just stared at him, and quite bewildered, said, “Are you sure you’re an angel?”

“Hey- I’m the one with the white wings here.”

Aziraphale's eyes trailed their way to the middle of the forest. Looking at the tree, perhaps. He bit his lip for a moment. “I do think you might be right about that.”

“Plus, the almighty can't be too mad. She did put a pretty big neon sign on the blasted thing.”

Soon enough, Aziraphale had slipped away, and stumbled down the wall. Off to do thing Crowley assumed he was meant to thwart, but he really did want some sort of change to happen. And if head office asked, he’d just spin some story about how he thought they meant dangers outside the walls.

By the end of the week, humanity had been banished, and Crowley was demoted down to a principality. 

“Go and watch over the humans, and this time actually do some thwarting, Anthony.”

He thought of the odd demon, and how he was probably tasked something similar and smiled.

“Of course Gabriel. My pleasure.”

This could be fun

[igottoomuchwriting]

To Have it All and Give it All Away

“How is it fair that God has all the power, and we just get to do things like create stupid stars?” The angel snapped. Raphael looked at him with a confused look.

“We didn’t just create the stars. We have helped create animals, plants, everything in the universe.”

“But we never get the final say!” A second angel yelled. Raphael let out a deep sigh. He has had this conversation with his friends multiple times before and he gets where they are coming from. God has given them all choices in creations that he puts on Earth, the planet he has deemed the most habitable, but there have been many times that She has shot ideas down. Especially from his group of friends.

“We could take over,” the first angel said.

Raphael let out a scoff. “How would you even get away with doing that?”

“We are not the only ones who want to see change here,” Angel Two spoke. “Many of us want to see God show us some respect.”

“And how do you think we could get away with that?”

“Easy.” Angel One smirked. Raphael and Angel Two stared at him waiting for an answer. He looked between the confused faces on his friends before snapping. “What?”

“If it’s easy,” Raphael drawled, “then what’s the plan?”

“Well,—” he stopped, glaring at Raphael. “Well, does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. What, you think overthrowing our creator would work if you did it on impulse?”

“Of course it wouldn’t work on impulse, you dumb fucks,” they heard a fourth voice say. They all turned to see Lucifer, archangel and God’s second-in-command. The three angels froze in fear. Would he tell God what they were talking about?

“Lucifer,” they all spoke at once, bowing their heads. Lucifer let out a scoff.

“Lift up your heads, I don’t need your obedience.” The trio looked back up at him, all varying looks of worry and shock.

“Are you going to tell God what we were talking about?” Angel One asked. 

“Are you kidding?” Lucifer laughed. “You all have the same ideas I have. Why would I get rid of my followers?”

“Followers?” Raphael snapped. “What—”

“Raphael!” Raphael snapped his head behind him to see—

“Why is your lover here?” Angel Two snapped. Raphael shot a glare at the angel. 

“Because unlike you, people like to hang out with me.” The angel was about to snap back at Raphael when the fifth member joined.

“Oh, hello everyone!” he cheered. “What seems to be going on here?”

“Just talking about God’s plan,” Lucifer smiled. There was something about that smile that sent a shiver down Raphael’s spine. He looked between all the angels to see if he should be going along with it, but there was no use.

“Nothing important, love,” Raphael hummed. “Come on, we can go somewhere else.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to take you from your friends,” he tried denying, but Raphael was already walking away. He knows he doesn’t like his friends, and he loves God more than anything. If he knew what the four of them were talking about, he would freak out.

“I will see you guys later!” Raphael called back as the couple walked away. He didn’t bother to wait for their responses as he shot up into the air away from the conversation.

It wasn’t long before the couple got to their favorite place in Heaven. You could see the stars and constellations that they have both created, and the one star that they had created and named together. Being surrounded by things that showed their love and the strength in their friendship brought so much love into the air.

“What were you talking about with the archangel Lucifer?” His angel asked once they had settled down.

“Nothing important, love,” Raphael purred. “He was just asking about our thoughts.”

There was a gap filled with silence. This was never a good thing, but there was nothing Raphael could do about it. There was obviously a lot going on in his lover’s head and he wasn’t going to force him to talk about it if he wasn’t done processing it.

He took a deep breath. “Those two… don’t believe in God’s plan, do they?”

The question didn’t shock Raphael. It was common that his friend’s were open about their doubt in God, but Raphael had faith. There was no harm in what they were doing.

“They are just… angry,” was the best he could explain it. “We all have questions and wonders of why anything is happening.”

“Do they question God’s authority?” Raphael stared at the star that they both shared, thinking hard.

“...I don’t think so.” The answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was enough. The couple fell back into silence, with Raphael’s love leaning on his shoulder and wrapping his wings around him. This was a very common scene between the two when they needed to calm down. To always be surrounded by creation and plans for the soon-to-be planets was a lot of stress on the two, especially when the archangels would never give answers.

“I don’t think you should hang around them anymore.” Raphael snapped his attention to the angel leaning on his shoulder in shock.

“What?”

“I just—” he let out a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “They seem like they are going down the wrong path, and I don’t want you falling down that path as well.”

“I won’t,” he assured. “They are just questions. There is no harm in what they are doing.”

“Do you promise?” he asked, looking Raphael in the eyes with so much hope, so much fear. There was no way that he could ever see that look in his eyes again.

“I promise,” he mumbled before he leaned in for a kiss.

That promise was all he could think about when he saw the fire burning around him. 

That promise is what brought tears to his eyes as he faced the angels and God while standing by his friends sides, who were all chanting Lucifer's name.

That promise was all he could think of when he was shoved from Heaven and started falling.

And falling.

And falling.

His wings burned, charing black like the abyss that he found himself stuck in and surrounded by.

He couldn’t remember the angel, couldn’t remember the love of his life. He couldn’t even remember his own name, only that he has been renamed Crawly, his friends Hastur and Ligur cheering past the pain of falling. 

He couldn’t remember the star that he created with his love, or the stars that his love created himself.

He lost his memories of Heaven, destroying his link to what his life once was.

He forgot everything.

Almost.

He could never forget the promise he broke. 

---

The loud voice booming through the sky startled all the angels guarding the garden. She was angry, angry at the best humans that God had believed were perfect for the garden.

They all nervously looked over the wall to see Adam and Eve cowering behind bushes, staring at the sky in fear. The angel’s watching nervously as lightning struck the ground outside the garden.

The angel who was guarding the East wall was especially upset over this. He had bonded with the humans, had grown close to them, and they had made one mistake. Of course the one mistake they made was the only one that God demanded that they don’t make.

Adam and Eve dawned some clothes to cover their parts, getting ready to make their way into the unknown. Eve was expecting the first human child that will be born without God’s direct help and she was in pain, emotions all over the place, and Adam wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

The angel watched with deep sadness. He looked around the wall nervously, checking to see if any of his fellow angels were nearby. Satisfied that no one could see him, he dropped down into the garden, right in front of the entrance. Adam and Eve looked at him in shock.

“Aziraphale?” Adam asked. “What do you want?”

“Do you know what is out there?” he asked, anxious. Adam and Eve shook their heads.

“God didn’t tell us,” Eve choked out. She was the one that the snake tempted, she must feel the most guilt.  

Aziraphale studied the humans in deep thought. They were really going out into the wilderness with nothing on them. Not even the knowledge from the tree could help them in this situation.

“Here.” He reached down and pulled out his flaming sword from its sheath, holding it up to the couple. They both took a step back in fear before Aziraphale continued. “Take this! It should help you stay safe.”

They hesitated. Aziraphale understood why, as Heaven should be mad at them right now. It was one mistake though, and to leave them unguarded would be too unkind. 

Adam reached out slowly and grabbed the sword from Aziraphale. He willingly let go of the sword, smiling as Adam studied with interest. Eve looked at him smiling, hand on her stomach and arm around Adam’s waist.

“Thank you,” she spoke.

Aziraphale let them leave and now he stood at the top of the East wall, watching the couple make their way through the desert. They were scared, worried, unknown to what could happen, but at least they had some protection.

Another presence joined him on the wall, but he didn’t look. He could tell by the energy that it was a demon. Demon shouldn’t be anywhere near the wall.

“Well look at them go,” he purred. “Really, kicking them out of the garden for eating fruit? Seems kind of harsh.” 

The demon turned his head to the angel who was still avoiding eye contact. The angel was rocking back and forth on his feet, hands crossed in front of him in that posture that all sophisticated angel’s held.

“God had one rule,” he spoke. “It was to not eat the fruit from the tree. They broke the rule, so they must suffer the consequences.”

“God’s rules have always been too strict,” the demon scoffed. “What was the worst that they do with the information? Ask questions?” He quietly mumbled under his breath, “like that is such that bad of a fucking crime.”

Aziraphale glanced at the demon with a sad look, though the demon did not look at him. He kept his glowing eyes forward on the humans, watching as they fought a lion off. His red hair blew in the wind gently, wings spread out wide to show them off. He has obviously worked hard to keep them groomed and it would be a shame if he hid them away. Aziraphale couldn’t believe that this man had fallen, let everything go.

He wanted to tell the demon that asking questions can bring everything to an end. Asking questions can shatter relationships, asking questions could bring the ash to your lungs. If you ask the wrong questions, you would be questioning God. God isn’t someone to be questioned. Indeed, She knows all. She knows what She wants.

Instead of that, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Crawly,” he answered, finally looking at Aziraphale. “And you?”

“Aziraphale.” Crawly nodded his head politely—a weird motion for a demon, a motion that shot pain through Aziraphale’s heart—before turning back to the humans.

Crawly couldn’t understand why, but this angel felt familiar. He feels like he has known him forever, years and years, as if they were friends. He feels as if there is something about him that Crawly is forgetting, as if there is something that he should remember about him.

He brushes this all away. He asks about the angel’s flaming sword that he has given away, thinking that he would never associate with an angel that was this irresponsible, even when he was in Heaven. He has also probably met a lot of angels when he was in Heaven, even if he can’t remember them. God has let him remember some things from before he fell, as if She is tempting him with knowledge, trying to get him to repent his sins.

But he won’t. He has no interest in going back.

Once it started raining, Aziraphale raised his wings out of impulse. Crawly moved closer and stood under the protection, pulling his wings in so that they don’t get messed up.

There was something familiar about the motion, they both thought.

One knew why, one didn’t.

One was surprised, happy that this situation was happening. Happy that there was some protection in his life, something that he could hide under, even if it was from the rain. The other—

Well.

The other held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had secrets that he could not speak, secrets that will remain hidden. He was deeply saddened, wishing to only revel in this slight moment. Hoping that maybe in the future, it will all change and the secrets will be released.

And neither of them had a clue.

---

They had successfully avoided Armageddon. 

Crowley never thought they’d be able to do it, once Adam had named the HellHound and was coming into his powers. Turns out the power of ‘friendship’ and your dog being scared of you was stronger than any force of good or evil that you could ever face in your life.

Now Crowley and Aziraphale had much free time on their hands. They could basically do what they want, now that Heaven and Hell thought that they were just their own beings that couldn’t be destroyed normal ways. With all of this time, what could they do? They could work on their relationship, cause chaos, explore the world—

Or, Aziraphale could disappear to Satan-knows-where and leave Crowley all alone in his bookshop with nothing to do.

Crowley groaned and threw his head over the armrest, glaring up at the ceiling above him. Aziraphale had said he would be back from the store ten minutes ago and yet the angel still hadn’t returned.

Crowley was getting bored. He never actually liked reading, but instead watching TV or listening to music. The problem was that Aziraphale didn’t have a TV in his book shop and he didn’t have any music that Crowley would willingly listen to. So here he was stuck in the bookshop with nothing to do.

Annoyed as all hell, Crowley sat up on the couch and looked around. He has been in this bookshop thousands of times, studying every nook-and-cranny and committing it to memory. With Aziraphale gone, he had nothing better to do than go over everything that he has already seen before.  

Crowley walked around the books, scanning every name and every cover with a new interest. There are books from the 1600s, and some that Crowley was sure that were released last month. Books that were paperback and some that were hardcover. There were a lot that looked like Aziraphale read it everyday for hundreds of years and some that have never seen the light of day.

One book caught his eye.

Right in the middle of a bookshelf shoved in the way, way back was the Bible. Not the regular Bible that Crowley sees in hotels or on shows, or even in some restaurants that he goes to. No, Aziraphale has the original Bible that is written in Hebrew, one that humans printed by hand to distribute only a few at a time. You had to share the Bible through villages and homes, everyone listening to one man read the Bible in church.

Crowley sees Bibles all the time. It’s something that humans these days are obsessed with, that they would rather die than not see the Bible every few seconds. Frankly, Crowley didn’t know how it became so woven in their cultures but he didn’t like it. He was biased though.

There was something different about this one. Maybe it was the fact that it was the original Hebrew print, or that it was giving off an aura that Crowley just couldn’t help but focus on. Whatever it was, it threw Crowley back to when he was an angel. To the few memories that he has from before he fell.

Sometimes I feel like Adam, cause I have more than I need

He never wanted to fall, this much was true. Crowley truly had questions for God, questions for how everything was being run up in Heaven. He wasn’t angry about it all, he was just curious.

Why were archangels a thing? Why couldn’t they all be at an equal level so that there is no tension between angels, no hatred within groups and ranks?

Why couldn’t they help with more than the stars and the planets? God has always had the last say, and frankly, Crowley thought he had plenty of great ideas.

Why did they all have to go by he or him? Some angels had female presenting bodies, but were forced to use male pronouns because God used she or her, and no one can be on the same level as God. Crowley didn’t want to be the same level as God, no. He just wanted to be seen as a girl sometimes. Humans were the only ones who would use the female pronouns. 

These questions, and doing nothing but hanging out with the wrong group caused Crowley to fall. He listened to Satan when he said that ‘God won’t let you do what you want. I will give you more freedom’ like an idiot. Satan gave him the same amount of freedom that God did, not giving him free choice. The only difference is now it is a more hostile environment. If you can’t fend for yourself than you might as well die.

For a few moments, Crowley was thrown back to the war. The fight between Satan and God, angels and the fallen. He could remember the fire and the smoke. He could remember the edge cracking with all of the angry standing on the edge. He can remember feeling the heartbreak and anger from everyone around him. 

He can remember seeing Michael grabbing Lucifer by his wings and shoving him off of Heaven first, taking bits of his wings in his palms, never to be grown back on Satan’s body. 

He can remember looking back at an angel as Gabriel shoved him off the edge, keeping eye contact with his lover. 

He remembers letting a tear down fall down his face as his lover turned away, choosing to stay in Heaven than fall with his lover.

I want what’s out of reach

His lover. He can’t remember who his lover is. He can’t remember their face, their body shape, their name. He can’t remember his favorite place to be, how his wings felt in his hands or what his lips felt like against his.

He can remember being with him all the time, holding his hand and brushing his wings. He can remember keeping him away from his friends because they made him uncomfortable.

It was like God was tempting him, tempting him to repent his sins so that he can just learn who it was that he loved. Who it was that cared enough to warn him of the evils going on in Heaven.

Sometimes, Crowley thought he should.

Maybe I should learn my lesson

His lover was the only question he had. He never cared about what animals he named, what plants he created, what wars he fought or what angels were his friends. He could give less of a shit for that stuff.

No, the only thing he wanted to know was his lover’s face. That alone was enough to have Crowley question being a demon. He would always question giving it away, turning it all around, just to see that angel one last time.

If he could have a name and then be thrown back to Hell, that would be fine by him. 

If he got one last kiss and was disintegrated with holy water, that would crush every feeling of guilt he has.

If he could just have one clue as to who the fucking angel was.

“Darling?”

Crowley snapped his head up to see Aziraphale standing in the doorway to the hidden room. He was holding a paper back that most likely had new books in it and he was giving Crowley a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Of course!” he replied. “Just bored out of my damn mind, angel. Where have you been?”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” Aziraphale set down his bag and walked over to Crowley. Crowley reached out and grabbed his hand, keeping him at a comfortable length. “I got caught up in the store. I also saw a new coffee shop has opened up down the road and I was thinking that we must go! It looks very cute and the smell of their food is divine!”

Oh, what a waste

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s face lit up at the mention of the coffee shop. His smile alone was lightening up the room, and not just because he has Heaven’s light embedded in his smile, but because he was just so happy. He always loved supporting up-and-coming humans and their dreams.

Crowley loves seeing that look on Aziraphale. He has the same look when new books are released, or when a customer has an interest in an old book. Aziraphale will talk with someone for hours over philosophy and is left glowing for hours after. He beams like that when Crowley brings him a gift, or when Crowley decides to try and bake something for him when every shop around them is closed because it is two in the morning. Aziraphale is so different from all the angels Crowley has ever met, and that alone cements the decision to not go back to Heaven.

Yes, he could go back to Heaven, find the one who he loved and who loved him. He could make up for the promise he broke, could try and fix everything that he destroyed by falling. He could live a happy life in Heaven and not have to worry about watching over Earth anymore. He could do all of this if Heaven was perfect.

Crowley knows that if he went back to Heaven, no one up there would trust him. If he went back up there, they would treat him differently, and who is to say that he wouldn’t stop being ‘evil’? Why should he risk giving up everything, upsetting himself and having to go through the pain of falling again just for one angel that is either dead or doesn’t care about him anymore. Why should he risk what he has with Aziraphale just to answer the one question he could never answer?

Aziraphale is all he needs. Aziraphale is the light in his dull life, the one who has given him a chance and understands that he didn’t want to fall. He understands that he only fell because he hung out with the wrong group and asked the wrong questions. He is the one who loves Crowley for who he is, not for who he used to be. Aziraphale has clicked with him, as taken time to get along and learn. Sometimes it truly feels like they have known each other for more than six thousand years.

Yes, he regrets falling and regrets asking questions when he shouldn’t have, but when he’s with Aziraphale, that all goes away. 

Crowley pulls Aziraphale close against his body and places a firm kiss on the angel’s lips. Aziraphale let out shocked sound, but quickly leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s shoulders.

“Sure, angel,” Crowley mumbled once he pulled back from the kiss. “We can check it out. I need to cause some chaos, anyway.”

Aziraphale gave him a disappointed look and—dare he say—a pout. “Do not cause any chaos, darling. It’s such a nice day.”

“Perfect time to ruin it!” Crowley cheered, walking out the door. Aziraphale doesn’t know that Crowley won’t do much, only make someone trip into a mud puddle, but he has to keep the illusion.

“Crowley, dear!” Aziraphale huffed, following the demon out. “Do not, please—”

To have everything and give it all away

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - 534BC – Kapilavastu

@arianaderalte reminded me I was a bit short on non-European places and historical incidents, et voila! A non-European place :)

534BC – Kapilavastu

It wasn’t the first time Crawly had visited a garden.

They were good places for a tempting, he’d found. This one was a fine one as well, wrapped around a many-towered palace. The upper crust and lounging in gardens always went hand-in-hand. Picking the low-hanging fruit, so to speak.

He slithered through the undergrowth.

There were some things it was easier to do as a snake and getting through low, dense bushes with spikes was definitely one of them.

Ahead of him, by a shallow pond, he could see the young human he’d been given orders to tempt. He frowned as much as his features would let him, pausing and tonguing the air. Yeah, okay, sometimes they sent him after the pious ones – who were surprisingly easy to poke at – but this one was a bit… different.

If his clothes and appearance were anything to go by, this one definitely belonged in the palace. He was striking, for a human, his dark skin clear and his hair groomed and drawn up on his head. His eyes, to Crawly’s surprise, were a shockingly pale shade of blue.

And – he noticed belatedly – they were looking right at him.

“Er,” he said.

The human’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he didn’t move, watching Crawly warily. “You spoke,” he said.

“No I didn’t.” Crawly winced and wished he’d bitten his tongue instead. “Bugger.”

The young man slowly moved from his seated position, into a crouch, able to flee if he needed to. “What are you?”

Crawly stared at him, then very deliberately looked down the length of his body that was sticking out of the undergrowth. “Guess.”

Those clear blue eyes fixed on his. “Not a snake.”

Crawly grinned. “Smart boy.” He stretched himself upwards, his body shifting until he was kneeling on the grass, the pleated folds of his red-stitched black dhoti spread around him. Like his target, his hair had arranged itself in a knot on top of his head.

If the young man was shocked, he didn’t show it. “Ah.” He nodded gravely. “A nāga.”

Crawly cocked his head. “A whatta?”

Now, the young man looked suspicious. “From the underworld?”

“Ohhhh! Yeah.” Crawly gave him a cheerful wave. “That’s me.”

The young man studied him. “Why have you come?”

Crawly scratched at his nose. “See what you’re up to, I s’pose. Not much, if you’re just sitting about in a palace, eh?”

Those clear blue eyes gazed at him. “No. I… suppose.” He glanced around, as if taking in the garden around him, then looked back at Crawly. “I have a duty to my father.”

Ah, there was the chink in the armour.

“Ahhh.” He nodded sympathetically. “So you’re stuck here. Shame. It’s a big world out there.”

The young man was watching him, though Crawly had a sneaking suspicion there was a lot more going on behind the eyes than the young human’s face was showing. “It is. Tell me, nāga, have you walked in the world?”

“Walked, slithered.” He nodded amiably. “I get around. You seen much of it?”

“A little.” The man sank back down to sit, one knee upraised. He propped his arm on it. “My father would have me happy. I want for nothing. I see people happy and at peace. This, I am told, is the best of lives.”

Crawly wrinkled his nose. “Don’t sound all that happy to me. Nice shiny cage, but still just that.” He jerked his head. “You tried going outside?”

The blue eyes flicked up to the walls and the guards posted at intervals.

“Ohhh.” Crawly winced. “Yeah. That’d be a problem. Unless you have a back door out of here?”

The young man’s lips twitched as if Crawly had picked up on his thoughts. “Ah, but my friend and I… we are guarded well. Our flight would be noticed.”

Well, that was easily remedied. Crawly leaned forward conspiratorially. “They don’t have to notice you leaving, y’know.”

“Impossible.”

Crawly grinned. “Try me.”

-----------------------------------------

Several decades later – Yangzhou

The work on the new canal was going well.

In the broad ditch, Crawly was carefully prodding at a worker’s resolve to keep digging when he felt the prickle of a familiar presence. He poked his head over the edge of the trench and grinned in delight.

“Oi! Angel!”

Aziraphale almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to turn around. “Crawly?” He looked genuinely surprised, as Crawly scrambled up out of the ditch. “Good Heavens. What on earth are you doing here?”

“Same as you – or, y’know, opposite direction.” The demon beamed at him, wiping his hands down on his hips. “Can’t have humans getting too efficient. Makes my lot look bad.”

“Hm.” The angel pursed his lips and with a flicker of a gesture, the dirt vanished from Crowley’s clothes.

Crawly snickered. “Bit pointless, when I’ll be going back down there.”

“It’s the principle,” Aziraphale retorted. He paused, then leaned a little closer. “Can I ask you something?”

Crawly shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

“There have been some interesting… ripples, a little further west. Spiritual ones.” He glanced around, as if he was planning a heist or something. “There’s some kind of holy man. I saw him briefly. I can’t help feeling he might be someone significant. Do you know anything about him?”

“A holy man?” Crawly made a face. “If he’s that holy, I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near him. Where’d’you hear about this one?”

“I was doing some work near the Ganges,” Aziraphale said softly. “I followed the river for a while and kept hearing his name. My side don’t know anything about it and I think it may be worrying them, if he’s as influential as he seems to be.”

Crawly shook his head. “Haven’t been along that way for a good while now. Could ask around down below. What was this holy man’s name?”

“They were calling him Gautama Buddha.”

Crawly blinked very slowly at him. “Gautama?”

“Yea.” Aziraphale frowned. “Are you all right, Crawly? You’ve gone a little pale.”

“Fine,” Crawly croaked. “F’you don’t mind, I should get back to work.”

He fled back down into the ditch, sinking down on the nearest boulder. Well, it was going to take one hell of an explanation to explain how the man who he’d helped to flee his duty and his mantle of royalty had ended up an infamous holy man.

“Why me?” he groaned, flopping back against the rock.

Sometimes, he wondered, if his life was just God’s idea of a grand celestial joke.