flash bastard

through the cold, i'll find my way back to you. asc w. @fallsafter

[foulfiend-blog1]

i amn just... a littl creacher.....thatse it . i canot change this

[foulfiend-blog1]

my choice || fallsafter‌:

     there’s  nothing  real  pleasant  about  becoming  sober  so  quickly,   even  if  it  doesn’t  really  leave  anything  like  headaches  behind.   it’s  just  the  jarring  shift  in  reality  that  comes  with  it.   either  way,   EITHER  WAY,   he’s  almost  surprised  by  himself,   that  it  is  with  such  clarity  that  he  sees  crowley—   REALLY  sees  him,   it  startles  him.   all  those  thousands  of  years,   the  sidelong  glances  thrown  his  way  when  crowley  thought  he  wasn’t  looking.   oh …   he’s  so  clever—   how  could  he  be  so  STUPID.   (  the  love  that’s  been  there,   ALWAYS  ALWAYS  ALWAYS  is  almost  OVERWHELMING.  )   (  it  took  him  so  very  long  to  catch  up,   but  he’s  never  been  one  to  be  quite  able  to  KEEP  UP  with  everything  around  him.  )

     he  had  a  million  things  to  say,   to  ask,  to  question,   to  start  placing  boundaries,   to  consider,   and  yet  now  that  he’s  here  in  the  moment  sobered  up  none  of  them  can  come  to  mind.  not  a  single  one.   the  only  thing  filling  his  mind  is  “i  love  you”  on  repeat,  a  broken  record,   his  favorite  song.  and  maybe  it’s  not  an  answer  to  crowley’s  half - question,   but  it’s  really  all  he  knows  to  say,   ❝  i  love  you.  ❞   six  thousand  years  of  a  slow  motion  fall  backwards  off  the  precipice,   and  that’s  all  he  can  say.   (  if  he  is  flying  too  high  then  crowley  is  the  SUN.  )   ❝  i  had  a  few  hundred  years  to  think  about  what  i  would  say  if  this  were  to  ever  happen.   yet  i  can’t  remember  a  single  one  of  those  practiced  words  other  than  i  love  you.  ❞   his  hand  covers  crowley’s  on  his  cheek.   it’s  overwhelming.   it’s  not  insufficient.   it’s  too  much.   it’s  not  enough.

     if  crowley  thought  that  aziraphael  kissing  him  was  overwhelming ,  this  is  something  else  entirely .  he  loves  him .  he  loves  him !  HE  LOVES  HIM !  the  words  the  angel  ---  his  angel  ---  said  repeat  themselves  in  crowley's  mind  like  a  mantra ,  like  a  catchy  tune  that  stays  in  your  head  for  years .  (  aziraphael's  voice  saying  i  love  you  is  the  best  sound  he's  ever  experienced  in  millenia  of  existence .  he  never  wants  to  hear  anything  else .  )  his  mouth  widens  and  his  eyes  soften ,  softer  than  he's  ever  been  before .  this  is  the  best  thing  that's  ever  happened  to  him  ---  and  he's  saved  the  world .  (  he  couldn't  have  done  it  without  his  angel .  )  (  his  angel .  his  angel .  wow !  )  a  current  runs  through  him ,  electric ,  and  he's  got  to  move .  he's  got  to  ---  but  he  doesn't  want  to  stop  touching  aziraphael .  

     so  he  does  the  natural  thing ,  and  stands ,  pulling  aziraphael  to  his  feet .  he  starts  to  walk ,  backwards ,  never  once  letting  go  of  aziraphael's  hands .  (  the  warmth  of  his  angel  soothing  ---  a  reminder  that  they're  both  here ,  and  alive ,  and  together .  )  and  he  can  say  it ,  now .  he  can  say  it  back .  back ,  because  aziraphael  said  it  first .  ❝  i  love  you  too ,  angel  ---  oh ,  of  course  i  love  you  too .  ❞    you're  you  and  i'm  me ,  he  doesn't  say .  doesn't  feel  the  need  to .  humans  talk  a  lot  about  soulmates ,  about  divine  ordinance  declaring  they  have  to  love  someone ,  but  he'll  take  this  any  day .  the  choices  he's  made  to  become  the  person  he  is ,  the  choices  aziraphael's  made  to  become  who  he  is . . .  that's  what's  led  them  to  this  point .  what's  led  them  to  be  so  perfect  for  each  other .  (  and  they  are .  their  souls  match  because  they  want  them  to .  no  two  others  have  ever  had  what  they  do  ---  could  never  have  what  they  do .  )  (  what  they  have  is  special ,  and  sacred ,  and  theirs .  )  he  pauses  in  his  backwards  trek  around  the  room  and  pulls  aziraphael  close  once  more ,  bending  just  enough  to  press  a  kiss  against  his  temple .  ❝  i've  always  loved  you ,  aziraphael .  ❞  and  he  always  will .

[foulfiend-blog1]

did i disappear for nearly a month only to come back on my bday and churn out 555 words? that’s just my sexy lil secret. anyway whaddup what’ve i missed.

[foulfiend-blog1]

you are brighter and more beautiful || fallsafter‌:

     aziraphael  hums  in  response  as  he  takes  the  bottle  from  crowley,   hand  briefly  brushing  with  his.   it  was  a  nice  night,  a  lot  of  nights  are  nice  when  it  comes  to  the  things  they  do  together.   (  all  entirely  by  fault  of  their  own.   aziraphael’s  not  a  fan  of  dreary  days  if  he’s  out  in  them.  )   (  rainy  bookstores  he’s  fine  with.  )   out  with  crowley,   however,   he  prefers  the  nicer  days.   maybe  it’s  because  it  reminds  him  much  of  the  first  time  they  met,   which  was  an  equally  nice  day.   (  all  of  them  had  been  nice  back  then,   for  there  was  only  a  few  of  them.  )   tonight’s  no  different.   except,   instead  of  shielding  the  demon  from  the  rain  as  if  it  was  only  natural  they  fit  together  so,   he  sits  by  his  side,   saying  he’ll  be  staring  at  the  stars  when  that’s  but  a  lie.

     one  bottle  of  wine  shared  between  them  won’t  be  able  to  really  do  much  for  them,   it  may  as  well  be  considered  JUICE  currently.   that,   of  course,   is  without  any  angelic  or  demonic  intervention.   the  bottle  fills  itself  of  what  aziraphael  had  drunk  as  he  holds  it  out  for  crowley  to  take  back.   he’s  not  looking  at  the  stars,   not  really,   because  everything  about  this  feels  cliché.   (  he  likes  clichés,   easy  to  keep  up  with  and  never  having  to  worry  too  much  about  how  it  might  all  end.  )   a  beautiful  night  under  beautiful  stars  beside  the  one  he  thinks  he’ll  spend  eternity  with,   passing  a  bottle  of  wine  back  and  forth.   it’s  romantic.   but  oh,   how  he  cannot  allow  any  of  that  to  be.   not  yet.   not  yet …   not since …  not  with  the  end  of  the  world  and that he is an ANGEL and crowley is a DEMON.

(  hereditary  enemies,   he  reminds  and  scolds  himself.  )

     how  long  has  it  been  since  aziraphael  took  the  time  to  pull  his  nose  out  of  his  books  to  look  UP  at  a  sky  so  wonderful?   a  few  hundred  years,   perhaps,   and  even  then  he’s  not  even  doing  it  right  now.   he  steals  a  glance  over  to  crowley  again.   ❝  ah …   WELL …    food  is  NEW.   the  stars  haven’t  really  changed  much  in  the  past  few  thousand  years  last  i  checked.   they’ll  always  be  visible  from  earth.  ❞   as  long  as  earth  is  here  goes  left  unsaid.   his  confidence  in  their  ability  to  do  this  correctly  hasn’t  really  been  as  strong  as  crowley’s.   he’s  told  Upstairs  what  he’s  going  to  do  and,   of  course,   they  doubt  him.   (  they  always  do  so  it  shouldn’t  be  much  of  a  surprise  to  him.  it  still  stings,   though.  )   ❝  i  suppose  the  only  difference  has  been  the  WOBBLE.  perhaps  that’s  the  draw  to  them.  we’re  technically  under  the  same  stars  we  were  under  when  we  first  met  if  you  really  think  about  it.  ❞   and,   he  doesn’t  say,   i  will  always  meet  you,   under  the  same  stars,   under  different  stars,   anywhere,   any  time.   crowley  will  come  to  him  again  and  again  and  again  as  he  always  does.   and  aziraphael  will  wait,   however  long.

     aziraphael's  hand ,  so  gentle  in  its  accidental  caress ,  sends  a  shock  through  crowley's  system .  he's  not  excruciatingly  hot ,  not  in  any  way  that  causes  physical  torment ,  but  the  difference  between  his  own  ice  cold  hand  and  the  angel's  divine  heat  is  enough  that  he  almost  jerks  his  hand  back .  (  almost .  )  (  so  much  of  him  is  wrapped  up  in  almosts ,  and  not  quites ,  and  maybe  one  days .  )  and  he  knows  that  aziraphael  didn't  mean  to  touch  him ,  but  there's  that  tiny  bit  of  hope .  (  there  always  is .  )  if  he  had  a  beating  heart ,  it  would  be  frantically  trying  to  escape  his  chest .  but  he's  lucky ,  there .

     he  lounges  out ,  one  hand  behind  him  to  keep  him  upright  and  one  hand  resting  on  his  thigh  for  easy  access  to  the  wine .  he's  the  picture  of  ease ,  the  very  embodiment  of  calm ,  cool ,  and  collected .  (  but  inside  it  feels  as  if  he's  a  rubber  band  about  to  snap ;  he's  worked  very  hard  to  cultivate  his  appearance  of  not  caring  about  anything .  )  (  unfortunately ,  he  tends  to  care  too  much .  )  here ,  though ,  in  the  dark ,  lit  only  by  the  moon  and  the  stars  and  THE GLOW OF AZIRAPHAEL’S SMILE ,  he  can  almost  let  himself  relax .  he  can  let  himself  pretend ,  just  for  a  moment ,  that  there's  a  future  in  which  they  could  be  together .  (  a  future  where  they  go  for  picnics ,  where  they  dine  at  the  ritz .  )  (  he's  been  holding  on  to  that  hope ,  to  that  possibility ,  for  years .  he  doesn't  think  they're  any  closer  to  it ,  doesn't  think  they  ever  will  be ,  but  it  keeps  him  going .  )  (  as  much  as  he  can  let  himself  pretend  in  glances  and  smiles ,  he  still  must  hold  himself  back .  can't  let  himself  hope  too  much .  )  (  dangerous  things  happen  when  you  give  yourself  too  much  hope .  )  (  words  swim  in  his  memory  ---  you  go  too  fast  for  me ,  crowley  ---  and  he  has  to  swallow  decades  old  disappointment  all  over  again .  )  

     crowley  reaches  out ,  wraps  his  fingers  around  the  neck  of  the  offered  bottle  before  bringing  it  to  his  lips  to  take  another  swig .  (  an  indirect  kiss ,  he  doesn't  let  himself  think .  )  he'll  never  say  it ,  but  he  does  delight  in  aziraphael  taking  him  to  try  new  foods .  it  makes  him  feel  special ;  that  there  are  things  that  aziraphael  wants  to  share  with  him  is  one  of  the  things  that  keeps  him  going  some  days .  he  chooses  to  ignore  the  implied  possibility  of  the  end  of  things ;  that's  not  why  they're  here .  (  besides ,  they're  going  to  figure  it  out ;  he  knows  they  will .  )  (  they've  got  to .  )  he  hums  in  response ,  trying  not  to  give  too  much  away .  knows  that  if  he  responded  directly ,  he  would  say  things  he'd  regret .  (  things  like ,  that  was  the  best  day  of  my  life .  things  like ,  i  still  think  of  you  sometimes ,  sheltering  me  as  if  it  were  only  natural .  )  (  things  like ,  i  love  you .  i  am  in  love  with  you .  things  like ,  without  you  there  is  no  me .  )

     instead ,  he  simply  holds  out  the  newly  full  wine  bottle  and  stares  up  at  the  stars .  ❝  did  i  ever  tell  you  that  was  an  accident ?  the  wobble ,  i  mean .  ❞    he  doesn't  think  aziraphael  had  too  much  to  do  with  the  creation  of  the  stars  and  planets ,  so  chances  are ,  this  is  news  to  him .  (  he  likes  telling  aziraphael  new  things .  )

[foulfiend-blog1]

fallsafter‌:

@foulfiend replied to your post: okay so basically i’m gay

oh you have a bf? who? 👀

[foulfiend-blog1]

     this  guy  seems . . .  vaguely  familiar .  something  of  his  essence  seems  like  crowley  should  know  him ,  should  recognize  him .  and ,  while  crowley  might  not  have  the  best  memory  for  matching  faces  to  names ,  he's  pretty  sure  he'd  remember  this  guy .  serpentine  eyes  squint  behind  too-dark  glasses  (  as  if  that  would  help  him  place  him  )  before  he  finally  sighs .  ❝  sorry  ---  have  we  met ?  ❞

                                                           @golddome || s.c.

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whomst wants a short starter

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whomst wants a short starter

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hm i know it’s probably like bad form to like, be barely active but still have Opinions or whatever but i rly rly wish people were more compassionate to psychotic people. stop using psychosis as a way to make ur oc edgy bc i promise that nonpsychotics are way scarier lol it’s not funny it’s not cute and it IS offensive and ppl need to stop.

[foulfiend-blog1]

don’t be suspicious don’t be suspicious | machinecogged‌:

        What  an  odd  situation !   It  almost  makes  Ariel  want  to  see  how  long  she  can  keep  it  going,  just  to  watch  the demon  in  front  of  her  squirm  a  bit.   But  no,  she’s  not  a  sadist.   Still,  so  rarely  did  she  get  to  talk  to  demons  that  this  little  accidental  chat  seemed  too  much  of  a  novelty  to  let  slip  away.   Clearly  he  could  tell  who   —   or,  rather,  what   —   she  was.   Ariel  rarely  ran  into  demons  of  her  own  accord.   Some  of  her  coworkers  had  told  stories  of  warding  demons  away  from  mortals  about  to  be  Tempted  into  evildoing,  but  Ariel  had  never  gotten  the change.   Was  this  an  attempt  at  Temptation ?   Could  she  have  interrupted  this  demon  in  the  middle  of  some  great  attempt  to  sway  some  virtuous  mortal  to  the  side  of  darkness ?      ❛     …   Just  a  cosmopolitan.   I  haven’t  had  a  good  whiskey  in  an  age.      ❜

     he  nods  for  probably  longer  than ,  strictly  speaking ,  necessary .  he's  a  little  worried  that  Up  There  may  have  somehow  found  out  about  his  and  aziraphale's  Arrangement ,  but  if  they  had ,  she  probably  would  have  been  a  bit  more . . .  aggressive  from  the  get-go .  (  he  remembers  all  the  smiting  Up  There  is  so  fond  of .  remembers  the  war .  this  interaction  seems  different ,  somehow .  )  he  clears  his  throat  and  looks  into  his  glass  before  draining  it  and  indicating  to  the  barkeep  that  he  wants  another .  ❝  right ,  right . . .  yeah ,  i'd  imagine  it's  fairly  difficult  to  come  by  for  you .  well ,  if  you'd  like  to  try  a  good  one ,  they've  got  some  nice  top-shelf  stuff  here .  ❞    he's  not  overly  focused  on  doing  any  Tempting  today  ---  or  tempting  at  all ,  really .  he's  had  a  long  week  already  and  it's  only  wednesday .  he  had  to  yell  at  his  plants  today ,  too ,  so  anything  more  would  be  just . . .  overkill  with  the  Doing  Things .

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crowley had dark hair and good cheekbones and he was wearing snakeskin shoes, or at least presumably he was wearing shoes, and he could do really weird things with his tongue. and, whenever he forgot himself, he had a tendency to hiss.                                                                       he also didn’t blink much.

pri & sel a.j. crowley from good omens beloved by arson template

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my choice | fallsafter‌:

     oh  crowley.   of  course  he’d  wait  for  HIM  to  make  the  move.   crowley  was  almost  ALWAYS  the  one  who  sought  him  out,   rarely  the  other  way  around  unless  it  was  urgent.   he  orbits  him,   aziraphale  a  celestial  body,   crowley  an  icy  comet.  except  instead  of  swinging  off  his  gravity,   only  now  does  it  feel  like  the  comet  has  stopped  his  cycle  to  create  his  collision  course,   aziraphale’s  gravity  too  powerful  to  ignore.   in  this  moment  he  understands  that  it  would  take  an  astronomical  force  for  crowley  to  stop  his  orbit  and  come  crashing  right  into  aziraphale,   and  that  one  push  was  all  it  needed,   apparently,   for  that  to  happen.   (  and  maybe  it’s  the  GRAVITY  of  the  world  NOT  ENDING  and  them  being  on  their  OWN  that  caused  this  all  to  come  stumbling  out.  )   (  or  it  could  be  the  alcohol …   that’s  probably  what  it  is.  ) 

     ❝  crowley,  ❞   he  breathes  like  it’s  the  first  time  he’s  said  his  name,   and  maybe  it  is,   because  he  can’t  really  tell  when  his  name  became  seared  into  his  mind’s  eye.   he  has  so  much  he  wants  to  say,   and  all  the  same  he  still  feels  like  he  can’t  quite  say  it  YET.   (  when?   he  asks  himself.   if  now  is  not  YET  then  WHEN  will  YET  be?  )   he  lets  out  a  shaky  breath  this  time,   ❝  i,  ❞   he  starts,   feeling  himself  stumble  trip  and  fall  finally  into  the  reality  of  what  just  happened,   ❝  i  really  hate  to …   oh  what’s  the  word …   make  the  mood  bad  but  i  think  we  should …   sober  up.  ❞   he  doesn’t  want  this  to  just  be  a  drunken  thing,   he  really  doesn’t,   he  wants  to  kiss  crowley  again   and  again  uninhibited.   (  will  it  ever  truly  be  uninhibited?   when  he  could  get  drunk  all  over  again  just  by  drinking  in  these  kisses  alone.  )

     crowley's  eyes  flutter  closed  when  aziraphale  says  his  name .  the  amount  of  emotion  behind  it ,  the  intensity ,  is  almost  too  much  to  handle .  he  feels  as  if  he's  going  to  break  apart  ---  he  feels  as  if  he's  finally  whole .  he  feels  like  he  could  fly .  (  well ,  okay ,  he's  always  been  able  to  fly ,  but  he  means  it  the  way  humans  mean  it ,  and  they  can't  fly .  )  (  can  they ?  no  ---  that's  why  they  invented  planes ,  right ?  )  he'd  probably  agree  to  whatever  aziraphale  wanted ,  right  now ,  regardless  of  the  sensibility  of  it ,  but  ---  oh  of  course ,  it  is  sensible .  it  makes  perfect  sense ;  crowley  doesn't  want  this  to  be  a  one-off  thing ,  or  something  that  only  happens  when  they're  drunk .  he  wants  to  wake  up  in  the  afternoons  and  see  aziraphale  beside  him .  he  wants  to  kiss  him  hello  and  goodnight  and  every  moment  in  between .  but  that  means  they  should  probably  talk  about  things ,  first .

     so  he  nods ,  presses  another  kiss  to  aziraphale's  wrist ,  and  takes  a  deep  breath .  and  then  he  forces  the  alcohol  out  of  his  bloodstream ,  wincing  ---  it's  not  necessarily  that  it  hurts ,  it's  just  immensely  uncomfortable  to  go  from  drunk  to  sober  with  nothing  in  between .  ❝  well ,  ❞    he  starts ,  tasting  the  remnants  of  the  wine  that  were  left  on  his  tongue .  (  there's  a  part  of  him  that  wants  to  be  worried ,  that  wants  to  convince  him  that  aziraphale  hadn't  actually  meant  any  of  it .  but  he  knows  better  than  that .  )  (  aziraphale  cares  about  him ,  because  it's  natural .  because  they're  them ,  and  that's  just  the  way  of  things .  )  ❝  that  was  a  temptation  that  only  took  six  thousand  years ,  hmm ?  ❞    he  smiles ,  and  reaches  out  to  cup  aziraphale's  cheek ,  lovingly .  (  he  doesn't  feel  too  unholy  for  this  anymore ,  doesn't  feel  as  if  he's  not  allowed  to  touch  aziraphale  with  meaning .  )  (  no ,  he  feels  as  if  he's  more  than  allowed .  feels  as  if  their  touches  are  a  better  than  a  holy  mandate ,  even  ---  THEY’RE  A  CHOICE .  )

[foulfiend-blog1]

— answer these questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better!

NICKNAMES :   arson  ZODIAC :   leo HEIGHT : 5′7″ but somewhere around 4′ in my chair TIME :   4:05 FAVOURITE BAND / ARTIST :   uhhh my chemical romance n all time low. i’m emo, i know. SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD :   i love you - woodkid LAST MOVIE I SAW :   the emperor’s new groove LAST THING I GOOGLED :   "hummus thoughts meme” OTHER BLOGS :   my personal, and then my multi @aperihellion​ and my prompto @lionsworn​ DO I GET ASKS :   adsjkfls yes, most times it’s theus WHY DID I CHOOSE THIS USERNAME :   i went to make a joke about how it was homophobic that tumblr wouldn’t give me the “foulfiend” url bc i too am a foul fiend and i Deserve it and went to save it to screenshot, and it. saved it.  FOLLOWING : less than thirty jfksafldsj; i’m not active enough to follow a lotta ppl just yet AVERAGE AMOUNT OF SLEEP :   what’s an “average” amount of sleep WHAT I’M WEARING :   black disturbed t shirt n black basketball shorts bc i’m a classy bastard DREAM JOB :   actor or professional prettyboy DREAM TRIP :   i wanna go to ireland so bad... FAVOURITE FOOD :   chicken tikka masala,,,,,,,,, PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS :   yeah ! i play violin and then also i have a djembe that was given to me,,,,,three years ago? four? but i’ve not played either of them recently EYE COLOUR :   greenish gray i think? HAIR COLOUR :   blond  LANGUAGES YOU SPEAK :   english MOST ICONIC SONG :   god not to be an emo kid but... used to skip down the halls singing blood by mcr after school so that’s what’s most iconic to ME but culturally probably bohemian rhapsody RANDOM FACT:   i’ve got a sleeve tattoo dedicated to the dragon age video game series despite the fact that i would physically fight any of the writers given half a chance DESCRIBE YOURSELF AS AESTHETIC THINGS :   a raven sitting on a pile of skulls, a black wheelchair that sparkles rainbow in the sunlight, a peacock splaying his feathers, a pair of wings on a weary back, two boys holding hands watching a sunset over the mountain, worm on a string

TAGGED BY :    @machinecogged​

TAGGING :   @fallsafter @saunterz @amazetm uhh. if u wanna do it say i tagged you

[foulfiend-blog1]

you are brighter and more brilliant | fallsafter‌:

     crowley  reminds  him  of  FREEDOM,   a  freedom  he  can  never  fathom,   can  never  reach.  and  yet  he  stands  before  him,   physically  he  could  touch  that  freedom.   that  he  can  INDULGE  in  things  without  any  worries.   he’s  the  freedom  that  aziraphale  doesn’t  even  know  he  wants.  they  live,   vicariously  so,   through  each  other,   with  each  other,   and  they  don’t  even  realize  it.  aziraphale  has  spent  a  long  LONG  time  on  earth,   surrounded  by  humans,   beings  that  get  to  choose  their  own  paths,   for  good  or  for  evil  by  the  end  of  the  day  it  was  STILL  their  CHOICE.   that’s  UNPRECEDENTED  for  them.   not  that  he  DWELLS  on  these  thoughts  very  often.   like  a  defense  mechanism,   whenever  they  show  up  he  always  finds  some  way  to  distract  himself.  bury  himself  in  the  books  he  so  cherishes.   the  books  of  humanity  and  all  their  fascinating  thoughts  and  ideas  and  CHOICES.   their  freedoms.   (  he  doesn’t  know  if  it’s  the  freedom  to  choose  he  wants,   or  the  freedom  to  love.  )

     mostly,   he  realizes,  he’s  afraid  of  Falling.   (  not  in  love,   no,   it’s  too  late  for  that.   he’s  already  fallen  in  THAT  sense.  )   he  doesn’t  know,   however,   that  in  the  end  he  will  Fall.   not  in  the  way  he  thinks.   not  in  a  loud  crash  or  the  singing  of  feathers  like  icarus  who  flew  too  close  to  the  sun  or  the  painful  screams  of  the  already  damned.   rather,   a  slow  decline  down  to  the  earth’s  level,   humanity’s  level.   crowley  is  his  APPLE.   (  his  introduction  to  sin  almost  in  that  same  way  crowley  started  humanity’s  descent.  )   mostly,   he  also  realizes,   he’s  afraid  of  losing  crowley.  losing  him  because  the  demons  of  HELL  are  far  less  likely  to  forgive,   and  far  MORE  likely  to  kill  him.   and  THAT  is  what  makes  aziraphale  keep  his  hands  to  himself,   no  matter  how  they  itch  to  hold  and  caress.

     aziraphale  is  charmed  by  crowley’s  attention  to  the  little  things.   a  blanket  and  his  favorite  wine.   of  COURSE  he’d  bring  those  about.   it’s  the  little  things  in  which  aziraphale  fell  in  love  with.   the  attention  to  small  details  he  gives.   he  glances  up  at  him  so  very  briefly  then  back  down  at  the  setup  and  sits,   making  himself  comfortable,   even  if  in  the  end  he  never  REALLY  ends  up  staring  at  the  stars.   ❝  thank  you,   my  dear.  ❞   he  looks  back  up  at  crowley,   expectantly,   for  him  to  sit  down  too  and  is  caught  off  guard  for  a  moment.   from  where  he  sits  on  the  ground  he  can  see  how  the  light  of  the  stars  hit  the  back  of  his  head.   (  like  a  halo,   almost,   but  aziraphale  won’t  say  that  out  loud,   knows  that  might  come  off  as  too  INSENSITIVE.  )   (  and  even  IF  aziraphale  is  the  actual  angel  here,   crowley  looks  more  the  part  than  he  ever  did  in  this  moment.  )   he  clears  his  throat,  looks  at  the  stars  instead,  and  pats  the  spot  next  to  him.   ❝  not  very  often  we  do  this  sort  of  thing,  hm?  ❞

     aziraphale  looking  at  him  like  that  makes  crowley  feel  seen .  it's  uncomfortable ,  he  thinks .  he's  unable  to  hold  the  angel's  gaze ,  not  when  he's  got  that  look  on  his  face .  (  like  crowley's  beautiful .  something  to  admire .  )  (  he  knows  that  aziraphale  doesn't  think  of  him  like  that ,  but  sometimes  his  heart  betrays  him ,  sometimes  a  little  bit  of  hope  slips  through .  )  (  always  quickly  squashed ,  of  course .  he  can't  allow  it  to  burrow  into  his  chest ,  to  make  him  do  something  stupid .  )  (  he'll  never  let  himself  ruin  this .  it's  too  important .  )  so  he  finally  looks  away .  looks  out  over  the  knolls  and  through  the  trees  and  sighs ,  quietly ,  carefully .

     he  hears  the  patting  of  the  blanket  and  wishes  he'd  made  it  just  a  bit  bigger  as  he  glances  back  down ,  sees  the  space  he'll  occupy .  sees  how  close  they'll  actually  be  sitting .  he  doesn't  dislike  being  close  to  aziraphale  (  quite  the  opposite ,  actually ;  every  moment  he's  apart  from  the  angel  feels  like  his  heart  is  being  held  captive  )  but  he's  always  afraid .  afraid  the  angel  will  finally  say  something .  afraid  that  this  is  going  to  be  the  moment  aziraphale  brings  up  what's  so  obvious ,  especially  to  one  who  can  feel  love .  afraid  that  he'll  say  that  this  is  the  last  time  they  can  spend  moments  like  this  together .  (  afraid  of  everything  ending .  )  

     a  quick ,  almost  nervous ,  smile  crosses  his  face  as  he  sits ,  lanky  limbs  folding  him  into  the  small  space  in  a  way  that  seems  gracefully  improbable .  (  almost  as  if  he's  got  too  many  bones ,  too  many  ligaments  and  muscles .  )  he  hums ,  quietly ,  in  agreement .  ❝  no  angel ,  it's  not .  usually  you  try  to  show  me  whatever  marvelous  food  you've  just  discovered .  ❞    his  voice  holds  a  tinge  of  humor ,  a  bit  of  teasing ,  a  hint  of  reminder  that  aziraphale  is  the  tempter  in  their  non-relationship .  (  that  aziraphale  is  far  more  concerned  with  material  things  than  crowley's  ever  been .  )  (  the  number  of  times  they've  gone  somewhere  simply  because  the  angel's  wanted  to  share  his  newest  temptation  is  nigh-uncountable .  )  (  crowley's  favorite  temptation  has  always ,  of  course ,  been  aziraphale  himself .  )  he  reaches  between  them  and  grabs  the  bottle  of  wine ,  uncorks  it  with  a  thought ,  and  takes  a  drink .  not  his  favorite ,  but  it'll  do .  he  holds  it  out  to  the  angel  (  still  not  making  eye  contact  )  and  glances  up  at  the  stars .  ❝  glad  it's  clear  out ,  at  any  rate .  would  have  been  shit  to  get  here  and  not  even  be  able  to  see  the  stars ,  eh ?  ❞    not  that  he  even  really  cares  about  that ,  in  all  honesty .  

[rosources]

—  sentence starters :  polygon’s unraveled, episodes 2 & 3.

‘ everyone knows that self-published doesn’t count. ‘

‘ i had two reactions to this. my first reaction was: wow. ‘

‘ what the fuck. hey ___? what the fuck! ‘

‘ history is so boriiiiing. ‘

‘ jrr tolkien did the world a disservice. ‘

‘ i don’t give two shits about a king who lost a war seven hundred years ago! ‘

‘ get outta here! ‘

‘ riveting! ‘

‘ at best, they are instructional books. ‘

‘ c’mon, man! that’s all i’m gonna say about that. ‘

‘ no one has ever enjoyed writing or reading an academic paper. ‘

‘ these are very boring, and these are slightly more palatable. ‘

‘ everyone knows that poetry and theatre are meant to be seen and not read. ‘

‘ what genre is ‘eh’? ‘

‘ good fiction. goooood fiction. ‘

‘ believe me when i say that these are the only good ones. ‘

‘ this is all i’m qualified to do now! ‘

‘ some thieves can’t read. ‘

‘ here’s how you pick a lock. ‘

‘ turns out, she’s dead. ‘

‘ he decides to get into necromancy. ‘

‘ it’s kinda weird, but it’s very well written. ‘

‘ this is kind of like the hobbit, except instead of a hobbit, it’s a mid-level bureaucrat. ‘

‘ who doesn’t love a little erotic lizard fiction? ‘

‘ there’s no way you can manage to maintain that level of erotic tension! ‘

‘ i’d like to see them try. i would like to see them try. ‘

‘ i straight up chortled. ‘

‘ they are valid. and they’re wrong. ‘

‘ i don’t care about that. it’s boring! ‘

‘ how dare you jettison my gift! ‘

‘ just how useful were these robots? were they useful enough to chance a robot uprising? ‘

‘ someone should try to do that. it’s me, i’m the one who’s gonna do that. ‘

‘ i’m not gonna touch that. ‘

‘ what kind of robots are good when they’re sentient? ‘

‘ i’m choosing to think of that as something like nuclear fission as opposed to choosing to think of it as dumb. ‘

‘ terrible name. ‘

‘ not that i’m shitting on the coast guard. ‘

‘ where’s my guy toad man? ‘

‘ looks and names can be deceiving. ‘

‘ we’ve done some shit to bees, y’all. ‘

‘ no one likes a narc. ‘

‘ why the fuck is he a top? ‘

‘ he took it really personally and then decided to become evil. ‘

‘ i call this category: no! ‘

‘ here’s the big rule of thumb: magicians are always evil. ‘

‘ technically not murder, but definitely bad. ‘

‘ you know what, i take that back. clowns don’t serve a purpose. ‘

‘ elon musk, don’t get any ideas. ‘

‘ this is what man has wrought. ‘

[foulfiend-blog1]