black_talon



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    Aziraphale presses his suit. Crowley mostly has a lot of questions.

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    06 Nov 2019

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    After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.
    ---
    Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?

    But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.

    However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

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    09 Sep 2019

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    “I just…I thought things would be different, you know?”

    “They are different, Crowley,” Aziraphale pointed out, trying to be gentle about it. “The world’s still here for one.”

    “No they aren’t,” Crowley growled, sitting up unsteadily to look more directly at Aziraphale who froze where he was. “Nothing’s different. Nothing that matters at least."

    Crowley and Aziraphale react rather differently to the the not-end of the world. Aziraphale is determined to find out why.

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    05 Sep 2019

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    When it comes to having joined up with Hell, Crowley would say he more sauntered down than Fell. It reflects an element of choice, and that’s rather the point.

    The thing is, it was less of a fall and more of a headfirst dive—and it was not from Heaven, but rather off the cliff face of a garden.

    It goes like this, you see: When Woman was told she was made for Man, she decided she’d be better off not being a woman at all. This was not part of the Great Plan, of course, but it rather happened anyway.

    Never let it be said Crowley was good at listening to directions.

    (In which Crowley isn’t quite a demon, but was certainly never an angel, either, and—in a garden now long, long gone—his name was Lilith, once.)

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    18 Aug 2019

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    “What do you want, angel?” Crowley asks before Aziraphale is even properly in the room.

    “Hullo my dear,” Aziraphale sounds cheery but also awfully worried, “I hadn’t seen you since - well, since-” Since they’d swapped bodies back; since Crowley had turned tail and ran from St. James’s Park like the Devil himself had been on his heels.

    (in which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead)

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    03 Aug 2019