Crowley's Existential Dread
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04 Sep 2017
Crowley looked like something one would like to soften with a sponge and possibly ask to calm down: all pointy angles and something in the way of agitation contained in the crooks and sinews. He looked laid-back, but in the sense that he’d been laid on a flaring surface of teething anxiety that prodded him to jump up occasionally. He looked a little bit of perpetually lost, and mildly like someone who would choose to sleep through a century just to shy away from having to continuously exist.
No, Crowley didn’t look like that, especially not at first glance, but that was exactly what Aziraphale could see in him anyway.
03 Oct 2017
‘I wasn’t exactly my brightest as of late,’ Aziraphale said, to his splayed out hands. Crowley didn’t think much by that point, quite overwhelmed. He just thought, well, Aziraphale’s hands were surely warm, and where was the justice in that?
to carthage then i came by Lvslie for HoloXam
18 Jul 2019
A liking for light, an attachment to it. What a wretched word. A love, then. Of the scared, misguided kind.
[Aziraphale and Crowley after the Apocalypse, on the brink of becoming something else than they have been, with all the doubts and apprehensions to still approach and work through.]