Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends?
Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?
Bookmarked by nocookie_foryou
28 Jun 2019
24 Apr 2019
The cottage isn't going anywhere, Crowley reasoned. There was no need to rush these things.
Or, before they settle down, Crowley and Aziraphale go on a road trip.
- Part 2 of how deep the sand
21 Jun 2019
For the first time, that evening, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. You couldn't hear it over the traffic but it was there all the same.
Who was responsible for it, no one could say. They couldn't be sure, either, too wrapped up in conversations with each other.
Whosoever's responsibility it was should possibly be credited, then, with what came next.
24 Jun 2019
The first time Crawley meets the angel, the celestial being is twisting its shining white robe in its fingers and looking wretched. It hardly spares him a glance as he shifts from snake to human, and Crawley is a touch put-out. It’s taken some practice to be able to do it so fluidly.
A story of Crowley's thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.
And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.
21 Mar 2015
Anthony J. Crowley's life seems like it's finally falling into place: his floral shop has begun to gain an undercurrent of appreciation in the design elite of London, and he might have even finally found a boyfriend who looks just right lounging on his Tenreiro sofa. Things seem almost perfect, until one day the empty shop across the street is leased to frumpy fellow Oxford alumni, who doesn't seem to remember Crowley nearly as well as he remembers him, which really shouldn't bother him as much as it does - it was ten years ago after all, and it wasn't even that good of a kiss.