chartyourowncourse



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    Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

    The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love.

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    04 Aug 2019

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    "You know," Crowley said conversationally, "abject terror is really quite exhausting."

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    04 Aug 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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    19 Jul 2019

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    "Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me."

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    19 Jul 2019

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    “Port gives the worst hangovers in the world, did you know that?” Crowley slurred when the bottle was all gone. “Don’t know who got credit for that one. Nice drink, lovely drink, shame it makes you want to die in the morning.”

    “Such a shame,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, watching Crowley stretch out on his sofa. He did like port. He liked Crowley stretched out on his sofa, too.

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    27 Jun 2019