#no more loneliness And crowley is there too

[number-one-hog-hater]

Gsjakssj

[snek-eyes]

I keep thinking about what slotting the Job sequence in between the Flood and the Crucifixion does for Crowley’s arc, and his relationship to both Aziraphale and heaven.

@amuseoffyre did a great analysis of the importance to Aziraphale's arc here that sparked this thought, but it sent me down a rabbithole because A+C are both having very different experiences here.

Compare how Crowley bounces up to Aziraphale at the flood vs how standoffish he is when the angel shows up to the Job situation. Aziraphale is the one who's all friendly, "Oh it's you!" while Crowley... is pretty businesslike, at least until he gets the chance to start rubbing the reality of the situation in the angel's face. 

The flood pissed Crowley off. Job is the first time we start to see the more bitter Crowley we'll get to know. In the Garden he was bemused about overreactions and almost having fun poking this angel with questions about God's plans. Beginning of the flood sequence he was pretty playful. This whole earth thing hasn't been so bad so far, and oh here's that weird angel again, that's fun. 

But then he gets hit with God turning on their creation without warning, again. And the flood was at least in God's name ("That's more the type of thing you'd expect my lot to do," he said. Wasn't heaven supposed to be the good guys?). But now with Job? God turns their back and just... doesn't stop hell. Heaven's hands stay clean while hell dirties their evil little claws. Oh, so this is how things are, Crowley realizes. This is the part he's meant to play. Fine. 

And seeing how he acts here... I can't help but feel like he'd mostly given up on Aziraphale after the flood. After Crowley went, "Wtf, this is clearly an atrocity," and Aziraphale stuck to "You can't judge the Almighty!" ...well. Giving away the flaming sword was probably a fluke. Just another tool of heaven, that one. Disappointing, but what should he have expected? 

So all through their Job interaction he plays up his demonicness, trying to force Aziraphale to toe the party line and prove Crowley's new view on things right, once and for all. But there is a crack there, because not-so deep down Crowley would love for Aziraphale to surprise him again.

(After all... he is lonely. Try some wine with me, or have an ox rib, angel.)

(Fascinated by the difference in Crowley's gleeful "That's just how it started for me, see you in hell" vs. "I'm not taking you to hell, Angel. I don't think you'd like it." And only admitting to the loneliness once he isn't totally alone anymore; I think the original lie was more to himself than anything. He's angry, he's bitter, these righteous angels shouldn't think they're any better than him, not when they can doubt too. But when it comes down to it? No, I don't actually want to drag you all the way there. Something about guns and miraculous escapes, and his comment about Wee Morag, it's different when it's someone you know, isn't it. Hm. Anyways.) 

By the end of the Job situation they have a moment where they confirm they are more similar than they thought. But it's not a happy thing. It won't be until Rome when they start enjoying each other's company just for the sake of it. So at the crucifixion Crowley comes up to Aziraphale still prodding at him. You happy about this, Angel? You smirking over how righteous it is? But now instead of, "You can't judge the Almighty," we get "I'm not consulted on policy decisions." Implying he disagrees without really saying it. And that's enough for now, Crowley will take it. 

From the flood -> Job -> crucifixion -> Rome, we see Crowley get angry, then more and more resigned and bitter. Until Aziraphale reaches out and pulls him out of it.

[actual-changeling]

i feel like all my meta posts just clicked and solved a puzzle in my brain. however i am also currently upping my sleep med dosage so if any of this sounds like the incoherent rambles of a mad man it's cause i am. incoherent and insane and rambling that is. (not a man)

but i have to write this post since i had a lightbulb realization moment.

because the thing is, besties, that aziraphale is a fucking horrible liar. he gets nervous and fidgety, he stutters, you can SEE him sweating anxiety. just look at him in the bookshop when the archangels inquire about their not-so-little 25 lazarii miracle.

his best "lies" are when he is actually telling the truth but twisted. he has never been a good liar (see job) and that has not changed in six thousand years. all smiles directed at archangels are visibly wrong, his discomfort is tangible.

whenever he panics it is written across his face clear as day, including, and this is the important bit, when he is talking to the metatron.

now, you are wondering why exactly that matters, and the point is something we have all talked and thought about for ages but my brain just. formed some new neural pathways.

because he is a terrible liar, he is horrible at hiding his emotions.

but you know who isn't?

crowley.

unless you know him, it is very hard to read his facial expressions with his glasses on. he can turn his emotions "off", he can put a wall in front of them and by extension around himself.

i talked about it more in this post, so for background info have a look at it (if you want to)

it's crowley's thing yet there is one moment, one, glorious moment in which aziraphale executes it perfectly. and that moment mirrors crowley putting on his glasses, it is aziraphale attempting to hide away all of his feelings and thoughts so no one can tell what he is really thinking.

the parallels besties. the fucking parallels.

what really sells it to me is that last comparison because it matches too well to not be intentional. honestly, after the sink story i think every little thing in this show is done on purpose and with attention to detail, so.

the empty look, the heartbreak, the pain - the realization. this is it. i am not walking away from this unharmed but i am walking away. or rather into the loneliness, the absence of the person i love.

for aziraphale also the realization that the world is about the get fucked and he is not.

after that we have the inhale of courage. taking a deep breath to calm yourself, to find your way back to your body. a kind of preparation we have all done at one point or another.

the mask slides into place. or at least you want it to slide into place, you are trying to fucking jam it into the spot you need it to be but sometimes it's like trying to push the square peg through the round hole.

it's a disconnect, it's putting up a physical and emotional wall. crowley does it to hide away from aziraphale.

aziraphale does it hide from heaven and the metatron, yes, but he does it to hide from himself. at his core, aziraphale compartmentalizes. he is so fucking good at cognitive dissonance it's scary, and that's what happens here.

he knows, he KNOWS, that he needs to lock up his feelings or he won't be able to get into that fucking lift and do what he thinks he needs to do.

and so he walks away from crowley just like crowley walked away from him, copying him and doing exactly what he has seen him do a thousand times: putting up wall after wall after wall. ripping out every sprout of vulnerability before it can bloom.

except that he stopped doing it after the no-pocalypse, and that is why it hurts so fucking badly when he puts his glasses back on.

he is not ripping out a sprout, he is uprooting an entire fucking tree

aziraphale cannot hide behind sunglasses by crowley so he hides underneath an angelic persona, the person he thinks he should be, needs to be, and the problem is that whenever he slips into that role, it becomes him.

getting crowley to take off his glasses again is going to be a herculean task and the same goes for getting aziraphale to drop his act. they're one and the same in shape and origin and purpose but they are not indestructible.

because listen. all of this is painful and it hurts. it really is.

the fun part, however, is the fact that we know exactly what it takes to destroy that barrier, we have seen it happen to crowley before.

my point is that we are missing the parallel for said destruction.

[hikarry]

Badass Aziraphale is fun. We love to see him with all the divine wrath and playing the protector he was meant to be, blinded by love and duty. Eyes everywhere and flaming sword at hand ready to smite or confront anyone that dares step his way

And that's the version we see the most in the fandom. Vengeful angel Aziraphale Guard of the Eastern Gate raining righteous fury over anyone who dares harm Crowley

It's beautiful. Poetic even. I love it

BUT

There is nothing in this whole fandom that's more powerful and gorgeous than protective Crowley

That man knows what is like to lose the love of his life. He has lived it, for as brief as it might have been. All the despair, the lost of hope, the absolute loneliness. He has been there and that's a place he refuses to go back to

All the fear turned into rage. Ready to burn down Heaven and flood Hell to protect his angel. He might not be the strongest and he might not be a match for more than one archangel at a time, but he would rather die than let anyone take Aziraphale away from him again

He would become so blindsided by terror he wouldn't stop to think about the consequences. His only target is Aziraphale and Aziraphale only and he would pull any stunt to make sure he was safe and, do you wanna know the best part? This is canon

We have snippets of protective Crowley all throughout season 2 but this scene? Oh boy, this scene

Crowley doesn't trust Gabriel. He tolerates him because he promised Aziraphale he would help, but he is on high alert

As soon as Shax shows up and threatens Aziraphale, he redirects his fear turned rage towards his main target: Gabriel. Because this is his fault. Beelzebub is looking for HIM. They/Heaven indirectly threatened Aziraphale with being erased from the Book of Life because of HIM. If something happens to Aziraphale because of this stupid charade he got himself involved with because he promised to protect Gabriel, Crowley will hold no punches

He's already full to the brim with the stunt Gabriel pulled during Aziraphale's "trial". Oh no, Crowley hasn't forgotten his words and his righteous smile while he condemned the man he loves to death even though some years have gone by and he is still furious about it

He is a wrong step away from exploding and destroying everything that presents itself as a threat to Aziraphale in the moment.

He is so scared of everything (Gabriel, Beelzebub, Shax, Heaven in general, the Book of Life) that he spends most of the season compressed like a spring ready to pounce at the minimal real show of danger

The only reason he leaves Aziraphale with the demons in the bookshop to go and try to figure out what the absolute fuck is going on is exactly because the demons can't enter said bookshop and he trusts everyone present not to be stupid enough to let them in (I'm sorry, Maggie. I still love you babes)

The worst part is: all his fury, all his rage and fear are useless in the end because Aziraphale walks into the danger willingly and Crowley would face anyone that tried to hurt his angel, but the angel himself

Don't get me wrong, he sees the danger. Maybe a tad to late. After the demons are gone and so is Gabriel and Beelzebub, he let's his guard down and allows himself to truly relax, planning their little breakfast at the Ritz

Because he thinks it's over. He was completely blindsided by Metatron. He himself says "Go angel. No problem. Can't get weirder than whatever the fuck just happened". Oh my poor sweet summer child

But he does see the danger eventually and goes on high alert again, but it's too late. He would never hurt Aziraphale, but he pulls all the weapons on his arsenal to try and stop him from going where he can't follow. Where he can't protect him

And he fails. Like he always feared he would. Not only showing his hand to Aziraphale in a desperate attempt to protect him but also losing him in the process with nothing he can do about it but watch his angel go until the very last second

[scottishmushroom]

Bildad the Shuhite - Cobbler, Obstetrician, and Liar.

Bildaddy does more than craft footwear and assist birthing people. He’s also a weaver of untruths. Let’s explore them, shall we?

#1:

Of course as the audience, we know from watching Crowley throughout the last 6,000 years there’s some shame and self loathing when it comes to his identity as a demon. He is a fallen angel, therefore a demon unworthy of forgiveness. So to hear him phrase this as he does, comes off to me a little bitter. On the exterior his delivery may be one of stating a fact (he is technically a demon), but his inner conflict of being cast from Heaven but still wishing good in the world is a painful reminder of his loneliness.

But a step further, we also know as the audience that he is in fact lying to Aziraphale (and Hell) in this scene. Not about having permission to destroy everything Job owns, we know that’s true. But when he turns around and blows up the goats and sarcastically quips, “Seems legit to meeee” he is in fact lying. The goats are fine, and it wasn’t legit at all.

#2:

Crowley sets Job’s house on fire, and Aziraphale, just short of clutching her pearls says, “But… you said you wouldn’t.” This is followed by the very first time we hear Crowley say “I’m a demon. I lied.” We then get a very scrumptiously assertive Aziraphale standing his ground and insisting the children are safe, and Crowley is not going to harm them. Crowley is being challenged here by an angel, again. An angel. They’ve had limited encounters up to this point since his fall, and here he is being forced by the opposition to question where he truly stands. By backing down and saving the children, he’s not just going against Hell’s orders but also appeasing an angel. Crowley really cares what Aziraphale thinks of him. I’ve already written a meta that talks about this that you can find here: https://www.tumblr.com/scottishmushroom/730259715377020928/gif-credit-dancingcrowley-i-think-by-now-we-can

#3:

This one is like a stab to the heart. He says it so gently, so soft. On one hand, there’s that shame again. Regret and sadness at his identity as a demon, the inability to embrace who he is. The other aspect of it is about protecting Aziraphale. During the cellar scene, if you’re not too distracted with the sight of Aziraphale going absolutely rabid on that ox, Crowley denies that it is lonely going along with Hell as far as he can. By then, he is well aware that Aziraphale and him have that in common when it comes to their respective home offices. He doubts Hell’s decisions, and knows Aziraphale doubts Heaven’s/God’s. But he recognizes that Aziraphale is going to have a much more difficult time with coping with this realization. He lied about it not being lonely to protect him. To soften the blow he knew was eventually coming. To gently ease him into this new reality.

His soft delivery of “I’m a demon. I lied” here is a kindness. This is the true beginning of them on this path together of figuring out how to do their jobs even when it conflicts with their personal beliefs/morals. And also the beginning of neither one of them truly being alone. They may not recognize it just yet, but they have each other now. A group of the two of them.

My favorite thing about Crowley as a liar is when he does lie, it’s either a redirection to hide the truth (that he’s actually doing GOOD instead of evil), or to protect Aziraphale. Which makes it all the more heartbreaking that he always pairs his identity as a liar to his identity as a demon. True demons that lie, do so to cause harm. He lies to protect. He’s not a true demon. Just an angel that sauntered vaguely downwards.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I love your blog so much! Do you happen to have fics where aziraphale is suicidal/self-sicrificing himself? Thanks!

Hi. We have #self-sacrifice and #tw suicide tags, so check those out. Here are fics which include Aziraphale having suicidal thoughts. Mind the tags on all of these, folks!...

Porcelain Hands by Kyndoor (M)

Aziraphale falls into self dispair after a city collapses under his care. Over the years, he finds himself unable to stop his self-hatred.

On the Rooftops of London by Little_things_in_life (M)

Aziraphale’s thoughts become too much. Will Crowley be able to stop him in time?

Desolate by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

On assignment in an isolated area, Aziraphale suffers from loneliness. The longer he remains alone, the more his mental health deteriorates until he has a complete breakdown. Will anyone ever come looking for him?

The wounds of the innocent by Achillesinagaypanic (T)

After the non-armaggedon happened, Crowley and Aziraphale decide to move to a nice cottage in the middle of nowhere, looking for tranquility. They have found their little haven, but Aziraphale is bothered by thoughts about his past and the life he lived.

Fallen (But Not FALLEN Fallen) by wolverinedoctorwho (T)

A few weeks after the Nopacalypse, Aziraphale cracks under the pressure of Heaven, and finds the slippery slope to recovery is steeper than he could have imagined.

flightless by viperinz (T)

Crowley finds Aziraphale injured and without his wings long after he stops the Second Coming all on his own. He just didn't expect their reunion to be so morose, and so final.

- Mod D

[mimisempai]

Yellow is the color

Summary

Aziraphale borrows the Bentley again and customizes it once more. When Crowley finds out, he gets annoyed all over again and asks him the reason for the color choice. The angel's answer doesn't have the expected effect.

Notes

Our demon isn't ready for the answer…

On Ao3

Rating G -  1367 words

"Keys, my dear?"

Aziraphale was standing between the screen and him, holding out his hand.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, " Hm?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, "Don't pretend you don't know, I told you I needed the Bentley to get to Cookham. Apparently there's a museum library that's about to close and it looks like they have some very old manuscripts and..."

Crowley was no longer listening. 

Of course he remembered. Aziraphale had been talking about it ever since he'd gotten a call about it. On the other hand, Crowley had deliberately chosen to forget that the angel had needed the Bentley to get there.

"Crowley? The keys, please."

Crowley fumbled in his pocket and, with obvious reluctance, placed the keys of the Bentley in the angel's outstretched hand.

Aziraphale smiled indulgently and said gently, "It's only for a few hours and I promise to take good care of OUR car."

The rascal, he knew full well the effect it had on Crowley to hear him speak of the car as a common possession. Crowley sighed and the angel leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the room. As he walked through the door, he turned and told him with a wink, "I promise not to make too many changes."

Crowley called out, "Angel!" and heard Aziraphale laugh slightly as he left.

The demon stood and couldn't help but look out the window as the Angel got into the car, and he followed the car with his worried eyes until they were out of sight.

"Um...Crowley? Could you help me?"

He turned to Muriel and raised an eyebrow as he asked, "With what?"

Muriel replied, "Well, I'd like that book, but it's too high for me."

Crowley looked at the top of the shelf and turned to them, saying "You know you have abilities, magical ones?"

Muriel replied hesitantly, "But... but it's not right to use them for such trivial things..."

"Says who?" asked Crowley gently.

Muriel answered shyly, pointing to the sky, "Up there." 

Crowley leaned toward them and said quietly, "I'll tell you a secret, whether it's up there or down there, they're pretty blind. Aziraphale and I have been using our powers for little things for thousands of years with no consequences. So don't worry about something as trivial as taking a book off a shelf, they won't see anything."

Seeing the angel hesitate, he added: "Aziraphale and I won't let anything happen to you.

Muriel asked, "Why are you both being so nice to me?"

Crowley leaned against one of the columns and replied, "The fact that you ask the question gives you the reason. You shouldn't have to wonder why people are nice to you when you've done nothing to deserve anything but kindness. Because we know how people like you are treated up there, and you don't deserve it. I've seen your loneliness, my little bee, and you don't deserve that either." Then he added playfully, "And then I saw that there was some potential here in breaking the rules. I like that."

He gestured to the top of the shelf and asked them, "So, are you going to bring that book down?"

Crowley watched in amusement as Muriel narrowed their eyes and the book quickly floated into their hand. Then they cautiously opened one eye, then the other, as if expecting retaliation.

Suddenly, Crowley frowned and Muriel looked at him anxiously, "They've spotted me, haven't they?"

Crowley shook his head, "It's Aziraphale, the car, he's done something to it again. It's okay, you can read your book, I need to talk to him."

Muriel nodded before they hurried to their favorite spot in the alcove of a window and began to read.

Aziraphale was on his way out of town when the Bentley's radio emitted some interference.

"Angel! I know it! You've done it again!"

Aziraphale replied innocently, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yellow! The wheels are yellow! Change them immediately!"

Aziraphale sighed and replied, "You're really not funny."

"Why yellow anyway?"

Aziraphale hesitated a bit before answering, then smiled gently, figuring it was easier to tell the truth when you couldn't see each other.

He said softly, "Crowley, my dear, what color are your eyes?"

Only silence answered him.

"Crowley?"

The radio resumed playing the music the angel had chosen just before, indicating that the demon had cut off communication, then the song changed.

He needs you anyway, anyway 

Not often easy to say

Anyway, anyway

Ooh-ooh ya 

Who knows what it leads to 

Just know that he needs you 

Anyway

That was enough for Aziraphale, who said to the car, "Turn around, we're going home."

This time he didn't care about the speed limit.

It took him less than twenty minutes to pull up in front of the bookshop. He entered and saw Muriel reading in their usual corner and asked, "Where is he?"

The angel shook their head, "He went upstairs and hasn't come down since."

Aziraphale nodded and hurried up the stairs. When he reached the room, he saw Crowley standing at the window and, a rare sight when he was inside, his glasses on his nose.

The angel called softly, "Crowley?"

The demon turned and exclaimed, "Angel? You're back already?"

Aziraphale replied, "Well, the way our conversation ended, I was worried about you, so I rushed home."

Crowley sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head, muttering, "I don't understand..."

Aziraphale crouched in front of him and, placing his hands on the demon's knees, asked softly, "What don't you understand?"

Shaking his head, Crowley replied, "How can you love a color that reminds you of these eyes? My snake eyes, my demon eyes..."

Aziraphale raised his hands and removed the demon's sunglasses before placing them on the bed beside him.

Then he sat down on the other side and, turning to Crowley, cupped his face in his hands and said softly, "These are your eyes, how could I not love them? I don't see a snake or a demon when I look into them, just you. I see their warm color, the hues that change with your mood when you're not wearing your glasses."

Crowley asked softly, "But...wouldn't you rather my eyes be like the day you first met me? Like before..."

Aziraphale sighed before answering, "That is a difficult question..."

"I knew it..." Crowley started to turn his face away, but Aziraphale stopped him and said, "Silly, I didn't mean it like that. To have your eyes like before would mean you hadn't gone through everything you did, the fall, etc., so in a way yes...but also no, because I love the demon you are now and no longer the image I had of the angel. Don't you see? I love who you are, not the idea I had of you. Which means I like those eyes too..." he traced the eyes with his thumbs before moving his face closer to the demon's and kissing him softly on the lips. 

Pulling back, he continued, "And so, yes, I love the color that reminds me the eyes of the one I love."

Crowley muttered, "That's no reason to change the color of the Bentley."

Aziraphale raised his hands in surrender and replied in an amused voice, "I promise I won't do it again."

Crowley grabbed the angel's hands to pull him close, then wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest. He whispered into his hair, "Thank you for loving who I am."

Aziraphale replied softly against his chest, "I wouldn't have you any other way."

The demon pressed him a little closer, burying his face in his neck, and when the angel felt a certain wetness where Crowley's face touched his skin, he simply tightened his embrace and continued to whisper words of comfort and love into Crowley's hair. 

A few minutes later, when the demon lifted his head, his beautiful eyes glistened with the tears he had shed.  Aziraphale kissed each eye devoutly and then pressed his lips to the demon's in a kiss that made him understand, far better than words, how much he was loved for exactly who he was.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[vavoomed-for-crowley]

Living With(out) You Chapter 4: Silent Night

Out now on AO3

A little teaser:

"Aziraphale, you damn idiot!" Crowley yelled at the sky again, although this time the pain could be heard in his voice. He noticed this himself, took another long sip and just stared at the starry sky above him for a moment. Emotions were surely the least useful thing in his existence and he'd drown them out for as long as he needed to. He didn't see much in the sky, which was not only because the streets of London were too brightly lit, but also because he was already so drunk that he could barely see clearly at all. It wasn't like the stars had any answers for him anyway. They would stay just as silent as a certain angel he missed so much. And Crowley felt lonelier than ever as his back dropped against the Bentley. He exhaled deeply and looked at the bottle in his hand. It was almost finished so why waste it, he thought and finished the rest.

He had been near the bookshop every day. How could he not? The bookshop had been there for years, centuries even. And Crowley had always been welcome. It didn't matter that the last time he had been inside had been rather painful. He came nonetheless. He didn't know what else to do. They had spent the past few years together, seeing each other multiple times a week and now Aziraphale was just gone... Where was Crowley supposed to be at when not at the bookshop or at least near it?

[...]

He wished to just sleep for a few decades. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried. But something kept him awake. Or rather: someone. Whenever he had closed his eyes, Crowley saw him. His beautiful blue eyes and white curly hair. His sweet smile. Even his stupid glasses when he was reading. He felt every touch of him that was sometimes more and sometimes less unintentionally. And then... Then, Crowley saw his sad eyes before Crowley put on his sunglasses in front of him for the last time, he heard his voice that told him that he forgives him... And he had been wide awake again. And most times even grabbing the next bottle of alcohol to drown out the memories; to somehow cope with his emotions.

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut to stop any tears that were about to form and angrily threw the empty bottle against one of the walls of the buildings, luckily not hitting any window, which, to be fair, was close. "All of this for them? For heaven? You damn idiot!" 

Had Aziraphale ever loved him like he loved him? Were there ever real feelings? All those looks, the touches, the risks they had taken for each other... The peaceful existence they had carved out for themselves... Everything they had worked for over the last few years... Had it all mattered half as much to Aziraphale as it had to Crowley? 

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

weird post inspired by crowley's walk but kinda sad what is this fandom doing to me

Okay, I was watching a bunch of compilations of Crowley's walk (don't look at me, you've been there) and I had a thought that I sincerely doubt was anyone else's first thought looking at them walk.

It was more specifically that scene, you probably can see it right now, when they get out of the throne-chair hip first, so absolutely fluid, and saunter off.

I wanna be like that. I want to be that light on my feet. I feel that every time I watch the recordings of plays especially musicals, looking at the theatre actors, and yep, I know David Tennant is one too. And it's not just because I've always wanted to do theatre but never have, though that is true.

(TW: uh, talk of being tired/ill, I want to put the warning just in case)

It's because I'm not very well, and I haven't been for a while. Nothing serious, I don't think, but I have very low stamina to start with, and because of medications for my mental health I'm always so tired. Even standing up or walking without waiting a whole minute can make me dizzy enough to flop right on the ground. Even when I (probably) had COVID a couple of years ago, my main symptom was intense, intense tiredness. A few months ago, I had a viral while living alone, and had to crawl my way around (hehe crawl) (this is the state of my dark humour, I am sorry).

And watching Good Omens just reminded me of everything that I want to do, looking at them dancing around rooms and racing in cars, walking through streets for ages and sitting on the arms of chairs. The show is just so filled with life, sprawling in bathtubs and driving through the English countryside, children running around and on rope swings, desperate kisses and reading in a bookshop.

And I want that so, so much.

I want to be able to spring up from chairs and be around human beings and saunter around the city. I don't want to be sleeping through more of the day than I am awake for.

Anyway, just thoughts.

But I do want to take this post to give some love to all of you, and special love to any of you who are struggling with illness. Chronic illness or otherwise, mental illness or physical illness, just any illness. Even if it is just that heavy, heavy tiredness, that we know all too well. When I studied disease, it was broken down into its roots: dis and ease, a lack of feeling at ease. And I am reminded of that one post I saw about chronic illness, and I'd like to say what I read there to you all:

"I hope the pain eases soon."

I know that life is waiting just outside this screen, but as long as I am too tired to go out to meet it, I'm so grateful to this show, to this fandom, and to all of you maggots for bringing life to me. The loneliness has eased since I've been here, and the smiles are a little more often, the tears a little less.

And I think that's really quite wonderful.

[thethingswedotomorrow]

How hard it must have been during the thousands of years Aziraphale and Crowley had to spend distanced from each other, so close but just barely out of reach?

Aziraphale thinking of Crowley every time something notable happened, mentally preparing all sorts of stories to tell him the next time they met. Passing his time working out how to frame his words in just the right order to pull a rare smile, or Heaven help him, maybe even a laugh.

Crowley ambling through towns half drunk, scanning every crowd for a head of white curls he knew would never appear. Searching for a smile he knew could never belong to anything other than a divine being, for eyes that Crowley knew he'd never in eternity earn the right to be seen by.

Aziraphale feeling such disdain at the demonic workings of the Other Side, and all they'd hope to accomplish with humanity, but still searching out one very specific, very serpentine demonic mark anywhere he went. When questioned, he would claim it was a principality's duty to be aware of his enemies. But he got a sort of sinking feeling in his stomach, the kind he could only match to the incident with Job, and a certain flaming sword.

Crowley trying to roam the Earth and relish all that humanity offered. All the pride and greed, if he took the credit he figured he'd might as well benefit from it. He was there for the greatest moments, the orchestras and the plays, the monuments and the paintings. All any of it did was remind him of the one other being in existence who he would like to enjoy it with. Without Aziraphale, it all just seemed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Aziraphale finding himself, on days when he can't seem to quiet his own thoughts, turning to his left without quite knowing why. He only knew that he was always disappointed beyond measure when all he found was empty space, and no quick witted comment or sympathetic eyebrow raise.

Crowley driving down Whickber Street once a week like clockwork, but never brave enough to let himself slow when he passes Aziraphale's shop. He only allows himself one quick glance, just to ensure the Angel's safety. Anything else would be selfish, and Crowley knew deep down that he never was a very good demon.

Aziraphale stopping in at local pet shops around London, but only ever goes to the reptilian section. He'd never admit it, of course, but the sharp eyes and pointed tongues reminded him of companionship. A luxury he was keenly aware he could never afford.

Crowley, sitting in the backroom of an empty bookshop. Realizing now just how very close they had been. They were within reach. They had reached, he did at least. After four years, he realizes now how complacent he had gotten, so much so that he'd forgotten just how much loneliness stung.

He'd been worse off before, of course. After the fall he truly had nobody. No one to trust, to turn to, not even anyone to pray to.

All it had taken was four years free of Hell and Heaven, four years full of Aziraphale, of daily lunches and strolls through parks and gluing coins to the sidewalk to make the Angel sigh, of drinks after dinner and almost brushing hands, four years of almost, four years of not quite pretending.

He thinks they could have gotten there soon enough. Without the whole Gabriel and the Second Coming business, they could have made it. Their entire existence, they'd been a team. They'd spent so many centuries too close and too far at the same time, what's a few more years? He'd never know now.

Crowley, sitting in the backroom of an empty bookshop.

Aziraphale, sitting in his newly appointed office, reviewing the paperwork for his new position as Supreme Archangel.

They were so close.

[greenchrysanthemum20]

Between a Pyramid and a Hard Place

I'm soooo excited to announce that my fic for Good Omens Minisode Minibang 2024 has been posted!!

For the reverse bang, I was paired with the wonderful @qwilanikan whose beautiful art felt like two pieces rolled into one!

I had an amazing time digging deep (pun intended) into the history of Egypt and the archaeology done there! So, if you love Egypt, the pyramids, Crowley, drunken shenanigans, or in depth character studies, you will love my fic!

Summary:

After the disaster that was St James Park, 1862, Crowley takes a drunken nap in a shipping crate, and wakes up in Egypt, 1905. Through a series of drunken mishaps, one including Howard Carter, Crowley finds himself stuck at the archaeological dig at the Great Pyramids of Giza, with orders from Hell to make trouble. But Crowley has other priorities, like nursing his loneliness and not thinking about Az, that insufferable angel. Trouble finds him anyway, as he wanders the pyramid on a night when it is all too willing to give up its secrets. The sands of time will not let him forget the past....or the future.

Excerpt:

“Uh,” Crowley said. “That is to say, I’d like to…staymhm in Eghyughpt,” he said into the cup’s rim, punctuating the statement with a deep gulp of the wine that he had already drank once. 

“Ah!” the Italian man only seemed to get more cheerful. “You are looking for a dig to join, that is it! You should talk to Reisner then. I am getting out of Egypt, as is good for these old bones, but you, you have the ambition of youth!”

Crowley’s eyebrows did a wiggle. A what-the-hell-are-you-on-about, I’m-obviously-middle-aged wiggle. The Italian did not notice the wiggle.

(And a shout out to my amazing beta readers, @contritecactite, @suspiciouscharacter1895, and @qwilanikan!!)

[actual-changeling]

crowley with chronic pain that gets worse whenever he is forced to return to hell is actually so dear to me and it provides excellent angst material

as someone who had chronic migraines and headaches (not anymore luckily, getting away from my abusive parents solved a lot of issues in that regard) i know exactly how irritated and taut it makes you. the pain never goes away and it never stops hurting, at some point it simply becomes your new normal because it's either that or dying.

so crowley returns from an unplanned trip to hell after doing one good deed too many, and the first and only thing he wants after that experience is aziraphale. his angel is familiar, comfortable, and, most importantly, safe; there's no place he feels and is more protected than in the bookshop with aziraphale by his side.

at first, it's one wave of relief after the other, aziraphale hasn't said anything about his slightly unusual behaviour and silence, just brought him a cup of tea and shooed him towards the sofa. crowley is desperate for a nap, he closes his eyes and blocks out what little light still gets through his shades, every ray of sunshine a piercing knife in his optic nerve, and tries to doze off.

just that aziraphale is chatty today. very chatty. crowley loves listening to him, he really does, but hell is noisy, he is completely overstimulated, in pain, and by god he wants quiet. but he's in aziraphale's home, he's a guest, so he can't ask him to stop talking, can he?

light-headed and with increasing pain, he attempts to ignore it.

it doesn't work.

after about an hour, every muscle in his body is as tense as metaphysically possible, his head is a pulsating drum of pressure and agony, and the next time aziraphale's voice intensifies with excitement, crowley snaps.

"for FUCKS sake angel, can you shut up for one minute? please?"

he regrets it immediately. there's no need to look at him, he knows exactly which expression is spreading across aziraphale's face, and he is not going to cry, he won't, he's a demon.

crowley breathes in the silence, once, twice, three times, each inhale more shallow than the last, and then the frayed thread holding him together snaps, too.

he has miracled himself home before aziraphale can open his mouth or he can make it worse, and his flat is dark and quiet, comfortably cool, and he curls up under his sheets. tears run into his silk pillowcase, the only texture that doesn't exaggerate his migraines, and he spirals down an infinite abyss of guilt and self-hatred until he falls into a fitful sleep.

the pain of loneliness far outweighs that of his migraine, and crowley years and regrets and loves like he always does, like he always has, always will.

(if crowley had waited a moment longer, aziraphale would kneeled next to him, concerned)

(if crowley had tilted his head to look at him, his angel would have gently pressed his palm to his forehead and asked what's wrong?)

(if crowley had stayed, aziraphale would have listened to him talk about hell and the pain it causes him, and he would have understood)

(but they're not like that, are they?)

(but they could be)

[hikarry]

As immortal beings, by definition, Crowley and Aziraphale don't have to worry much with mortality.

Sure, they are surrounded by it constantly. After all, they live amongst humans, and they watch the few friends or acquaintance they make through the ages come and go systematically. They are aware of mortality, of death, they just don't think much about it in regards to themselves

To them mortality is not scary. It's just another step in the humans' lives when their eternal house is decided. It's something natural and unavoidable. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aziraphale has helped some humans cross to the other side more peacefully.

My point is: As immortals, they are aware of mortality. But they don't think much about their own unless they are thinking about being caught by Heaven and Hell, but that's just a what if. An hypothetical. A real one at that, yes, but not reality yet.

Now, the bookshop fire.

In this moment, Crowley is punched in the face by the mortality of immortals.

Something he doesn't think that much about just falls into his lap by the hand of no other but Aziraphale.

Suddenly he is faced with utter loneliness. The ending of a life that, technically, should be eternal. A life he took for granted for more or less 6000 years.

In theory, he has always known both him Aziraphale could die. By their bosses' hands. By the end of the world itself. But it's very different to think about it in theory and living it.

Crowley wasn't prepared. This happened suddenly.

He was on his way to find Aziraphale, possibly to apologize again over the stupid shit he said and talk about the whereabouts of the Anti Christ, and suddenly a day that was actually not going that bad anymore (aka escaping Ligur and Hastur with little to no collateral damage) turns into his worst nightmare.

For 6000 years he has had the theory, and suddenly he his gifted with reality.

And the last thing he had said to Aziraphale's face was that he wouldn't even think about him when he left. You bet those last words started playing in his head as soon as he saw the fire.

And there's a whole hidden layer there: it wasn't just his best friend that went up in flames, which in on itself is already painful as fuck. No. The man he has loved for 6000 years also was destroyed.

Coming to terms with your own mortality as a supernatural being and the destruction of your companion since Eden would drive anyone into shock. Would be ingrained in their brains like a new trauma. The new notion of how actually fragile life is gifting you a whole new perspective.

No surprise Crowley probably has PTSD with fires. Or that he has nightmares about that day often. Or that he forbade Aziraphale from having anything fire related in the bookshop and convinced him to buy electric candles and a shit tone of fire extinguishers. Or that his mind went into "Fuck this, let the Apocalypse come. I'm too tired to deal with this anymore". OR that his first instinct was hidding in a random bar and getting sloshed out of his own mind to try and put the pieces all together. (Like, cmon, my man was about to open his third bottle)

The actual relief he must have felt when he found out Aziraphale was only discorporated must have been fucking abysmal! Like taking a cold shower after a fever! But you bet his encounter with mortality has changed him. You can't go through something like that and remain the same. And he didn't.

Imagine how he must have felt when Beelzebub told him about the Book of Life. The fucking flashbacks he must have had. No surprise the first thing he did was drive to Aziraphale, apologize and agree to his dumb plan of helping Gabriel. Anything to keep him under his eyes. At least if they go down then, they will go down together.

Or so he thought, innit? We know how this story ended.

[nicolegmattos]

Requested by @khlara

(I’m really sorry about the giant delay! Hope you like it 🙏🏻❤️)

Aziraphale had never been to Crowley’s flat that much. He could list that one night after the “Almost-geddon” and just a few other times before that. But that was all. They were used to spend more time in the bookshop.

Still, he was certain his plants were greener then. And there weren’t so many empty bottles on the floor. The smell of alcohol had already impregnated the air.

- Crowley? - Aziraphale called. For Heaven’s sake, this place is a mess, he thought.

- I’m here - The angel found him lying on the floor, surrounded by more empty bottles.

His sunglasses were a bit crooked on his face, so Aziraphale could see his eyes were shut. He probably didn’t recognize Aziraphale’s voice. And was way too drunk to ask what a stranger might be doing in his flat.

- Hey! - Crowley protested when he took his sunglasses.

The look of pure shock on his face when he realized Aziraphale was standing there was heartbreaking. Suddenly, it was like they were replaying their last meeting on their heads. At the same time.

- Ang… - Crowley stood up and recomposed himself. - Sorry. Supreme Archangel.

- Crowley… - Aziraphale started, and then stopped himself. It wouldn’t help at all. - I need to talk to you.

He handed Crowley his sunglasses.

- Take your time - He put them back -, Archangel Aziraphale.

- Can we not do this, please?

- Do what? - Crowley opened his arms. - Talk? That’s what you wanted to do, right?

- This is not how I imagined it - Aziraphale murmured.

- What?

- I need your help, Crowley.

Pause. An awkward silence.

- Oh… - said Crowley, at last. - So that’s why you’re here.

- Crowley… - Aziraphale started.

- You need my help? - He confirmed. - My help?

- That’s what I’m saying.

- My help? - Crowley continued. - After you left me? After you chose to leave me?

- It’s not what it seems… - Aziraphale tried.

- And for what? Heaven. Of all things - He lowered his head. - You know, after everything… I thought you had changed. For once, I thought you finally saw Heaven as it is. But I was wrong. Like always.

- I had to go back.

- No, of course - said Crowley, sarcastically. - You’re the good guys and Heaven is so ineffably wonderful. Why stay on Earth when you can enjoy the holy loneliness up there?

- Crowley, I need you - said Aziraphale. - I can’t do this without you. We’re a team, remember?

He reached for Crowley, in an attempt to make the demon look at him. But he flinched.

- No, Aziraphale. Not anymore.

He had barely looked at Aziraphale during the whole conversation. Now Crowley had decided it was better to turn his back to him. That almost made Aziraphale lose his hope.

- They’re planning the second coming.

Crowley hesitated. That seemed to truly scare him for a while.

- Good - He said. - It was about time they found a way to destroy this place once and for all.

That made Aziraphale’s knees weaken. Crowley didn’t mean it. Did he?

- I know that’s not what you want. You love Earth just as much as I do.

- Not much then - Crowley spat. - Since you chose to leave us for the greater good.

- Listen to me - Aziraphale stopped right in front of him, making him look away. - I have a plan. I know how to stop it. But I can’t do this alone.

Crowley kept looking at everything that wasn’t Aziraphale.

- If you’re going to say no you could at least do it while looking at me.

- I can’t.

- Why not?

- Your eyes…

His eyes. The eyes that used to be blue, but that he now knew were a sickening shade of purple. Gabriel’s eyes. The thing that marked him as Supreme Archangel.

- Oh, Crowley… - said Aziraphale, lowering his head. - I’m sorry.

He began walking towards the door. There was nothing he could do. But Crowley stopped him, grabbing his wrist. Aziraphale slowly looked at him.

- I forgive you - said Crowley.

He took off his sunglasses and placed them on Aziraphale’s face.

- There. Much better - He managed to put a sad smile on his face. - They look good on you.

- So… - Aziraphale was afraid he could suddenly say the wrong thing and ruin everything. - Are you helping me?

- Yeah… - said Crowley, putting on another pair of sunglasses. - Someone has to put an end to this madness. And it won’t be either of our sides.

- Crowley, we don’t have a side - said Aziraphale, extending his hand to him. - We are on our own side.

That made Crowley smile. A true smile. The one he hasn’t been able to show since the angel left him.

- So I guess we have a world to save.

- One more time - completed Aziraphale, his hand still between them.

- One more time - echoed Crowley, taking Aziraphale’s hand. - Together.

And together they went. To save the world once again. For the last time.

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild Presents - Why Does the Ortolan Sing? Chapters 2 - 6

Written by OneDapperCat on our subreddit!

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Following his mother’s death, Azira sets out to prepare his family’s bookshop for reopening. While appreciating the shop’s new sign, he hears the beckon of a siren’s song sounding from the coffee shop over the road. He succumbs to temptation to find the source of the hypnotic voice is an auburn-haired songbird. Intrigued by the singer’s beauty and haunted by his apparent loneliness, Azira is determined to introduce himself. There’s only one problem: the musician’s menacing, jealous, and possessive partner.

CW: Domestic abuse, loss of a loved one, adultery, toxic relationship, murder, blood, organized crime

Content warning for these chapters: implied domestic abuse, loss of a loved one

Excerpt from chapter two:

Heaven help us… Be my compass…

Those nearly yellow eyes glanced up once more, and Azira couldn’t help feeling like they were locked specifically on his own. He dropped his hands into his lap, his lips slightly parting, drawn into Crowley’s eyes, like a snake being charmed, as the corner of the crooner’s mouth slightly twitched.

Out of darkness… cause I’m a fallen angel… finding my way back home…

Once again, meeting the songbird’s golden gaze made Azira feel as though the world around them faded out of existence, leaving only the singer on his stool and Azira in his chair. The words of his song were passing between them, like whispers between lovers. He could imagine those perfect lips brushing against his ear, his hushed aria meant only for Azira. There was something else beyond the suffocating sensuality of his voice — something extremely familiar.

I’m just an angel that’s fatally lost… I tried to be something I know that I’m not…

Sadness. Azira felt overwhelming sadness bearing down on him, as though the burden the songbird carried on his own shoulders was being passed over to him. It felt like a desperate cry for help that the bookseller desired nothing more than to answer. He wasn’t just looking upon a singing songbird, but a caged one. Yet why would a caged bird sing so beautifully? Another thing about the mysterious man that he needed to know.

I danced with the devil and I’m so ashamed… Too far down the road to go back where I came…

Continue from chapter two on ao3…

Or start with chapter one.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey! I love love love reading unrequited love, and although obvi their love is utterly mutual they don’t necessarily know that sooo

If you know any, could you recommend me some fics were Crowley is ‘pining’ for Azi?

They don’t need to have a happy ending where they get together (might even prefer without) but can do!

Anyways love ur blog tysm :)

These are hard to find! Most are not actually unrequited love. I found a few with hurt/no comfort, and a couple of longer ones where they do end up together in the end, but there is a lot of feeling unloved, pining, and angst before they get there.

i wanna fade away (with you) by Lilyofthevalley26 (G)

Armageddon had come, and Armageddon had passed. They didn’t have head offices to report to anymore. They were free agents. A new emotion joined the others in his chest. It felt like hope.

No Problem by LeotheLionathefootofOrion (M)

No problem, Crowley thinks. No problem at all. Anything for you. Even after two months of radio silence and not even a message on my birthday. No problem. - x - The whole friends with benefits thing really isn’t doing Crowley any favours.

Microcosms by oceantears (G)

“So, Alpha Centauri,” Crowley says, “you never did go there with me. Why? Jus’ not- Not wanting to stick it to Heaven? Still believing in the greater good and all? Not wanting only me for the rest of eternity, afraid you’d get bored of me?” It’s honesty and fear disguised as barely a jab, barely a joke, and they both know it. Crowley can call the stars into existence, but he cannot successfully hide 6,000 years of loneliness and longing and pain. Aziraphale only looks at him for a moment. If he tried, Crowley thinks helplessly, he could find constellations in the angel’s eyes. He could find another universe in them, one entirely untouched by God and Heaven and Hell. One that could be theirs, if only Aziraphale allowed it to be. “Neither,” Aziraphale finally says, “I just- I was afraid. And I… Well. I always found reaching for the stars a rather pointless endeavour when I already have everything I want right here.” Crowley takes a deep, shuddering breath and makes himself say it. Makes his tongue move and form those words they both know so well but have not had the courage to say out loud yet. “But you didn’t,” he forces out, “you didn’t want me. You still don’t.”

Attempts At Healing by alcyme (T)

Imagination can only get you so far. And then there are things not powerful enough to make it to reality. Like feelings of love. Time mends all wounds and that includes a broken heart. After all, what is healing than just reversing time. It would be a shame if The First Healer can’t even heal himself.

Crowley and His Army of Grandmothers by burnt_oranges (NR)

Crowley had impulsively stopped by Artisan Du Chocolate, the next place on Aziraphale’s meticulously ordered list of chocolatiers to sample, and now Crowley wonders--is it too much? He had bought a hundred fucking pounds’ worth of chocolate, of course it’s too much, but would Aziraphale notice that it was too much? That is the question.

Warmth by indigo (E)

Friends with benefits really had to be the very best solution there was for any self-respecting immortal being on Earth. Handy. Convenient. The perfect way to de-stress with none of the hassle of trying to find a human willing to overlook the more demonic parts of appearance. It was reliable. Comforting even. Dependable, emotionless relief. Perfect, Crowley thought. Right up until the point when, well, it wasn’t.

- Mod D