#amrefevr

[a-musing-mixologist]

@amrefevr​ asked:

“HOT BELGIUM WAFFLES! Wait…I’m alone! I can swear for real! SON OF A— “

Gravity Falls || Accepting

[crowleyisms]

@amrefevr​ Game Over, man, Game Over:  ( worse possible ending meme )  ‘GAME OVER’

“STOP!!!”

The demon’s voice rang out as if a thousand voices at once erupted forth from a single source. 

“Don’t. Don’t do that to him. Please. It’s my fault all of it from the very beginning it has always been my fault. If I hadn’t tempted Eve with that damn apple none of this would happen. Don’t blame the angel he had nothing to do with it. I’m the one who switched the babies. I’m the one who drug him into this. Just-”

The demon’s voice hitched with a quiver as he looked over towards Aziraphale. Both of them on the same level as each other, waiting for both Heaven and Hell’s judgment. No fancy fire or holy water this time, this time was more personal and hands-on as an archangel and a prince held weapons ready to destroy them both. Crowley couldn’t let it happen, not to Aziraphale at least and so he resigned himself to his fate for one single reason.

To save the angel he loved.

“If you’re going to ruin someone ruin me. Get rid of me. Don’t hurt him. I’m begging here take me and only me but let him go. He’s better than the rest of you lot and keep to himself and won’t hear a thing ever again won’t you, Angel?”

A smile came to his face as tears slipped past the edges of the dark glasses before he could let Aziraphale respond.

“You and I know he won’t be a thorn in your side if you leave him to his books. Never caused trouble to no one if I wasn’t involved.”

There seemed to be some conversation between the two sides. Bitter hisses and sharp whispers exchanged before an agreement was made. If anything he was what both sides wanted and he knew that and while he wasn’t sure if they’d keep it when it was all over but they agreed. Take him, spare Aziraphale never to bother Heaven or Hell again. If Aziraphale said anything he didn’t hear it as he nodded his head. Yes. Yes, he could live with that. Crowley would give his life up over and over and over again if it means his angel, the light of his life and only true love he ever had, was safe then as God as his witness to it all he would do it.

Glasses were removed from his face and thrown to the side. Blade of the archangel’s spear tipping his chin upwards before pulling back. Crowley closed his eyes and waited only for golden eyes to snap open once again as the blade hit home in the center of his chest, sinking in as far as it could before hitting the guard.

The divine power of Grace ran through him from the Holy weapon buried in his chest. He could feel it slowly eat and crack at him from the very surface of his being all the way down to the core of what he truly was. Eyes were wide as the last of silver trails faded and dripped from his cheeks. Truly agonizing it was but he dared not to cry out to give them that final satisfaction. Instead, he turned his head to look at sad blue eyes that watched him. If this was the last thing he was to see he wanted to see nothing but the Angel he fell in love with 6000 years ago on the very top of that all.

All because he gave his sword away. Always the dutiful and kind Angel he so loved and wished he could have continued to love.

“It’ll be fine, Aziraphale. I promise. You’ll see it’ll all work out... we’ll see each other again... on a bright and sunny day.”

Crowley gave one more smile of genuine love before he couldn’t hold on to that last thread any longer. The divine nature having consumed him to his demonic core to be no more.

The demon was no more. Corporation giving out into a flurry of light that seemed to sparkle and shine, unlike demons before him. 

A star marker who only loved an angel returned to stardust.

[traumaturgic]

--------------------------------- 🔮 I KNOW YOU'VE GOT WINGS, DAMNIT ˎ ˊ ˗

' OKAY, LOOK. DEMONS WERE ANGELS,   but they clearly aren't anymore. It's in the Bible, or something. My job is literally to keep guys like him out of this dimension. I really don't want to do the whole ' Sorcerer versus ethereal being ' thing right now, so can you just, you know, tell him to go off for a minute ? Or maybe forever ? ' // @amrefevr​

[weirdtongued]

( muse injured meme ) 'oh my god!'

Send ‘oh my god!’ to find my muse injured // accepting.

          Whenever Crowley pays Aziraphale a visit, it’s usually beautifully staged in accordance with the rules: he arrives in his Bentley, a bottle of wine tucked under his jacket – or a box of chocolates, – he invents a false pretence, something about business, but why wouldn’t they share a drink first? And then they do – they share a drink, a pleasant conversation until they are too drunk to care or until it’s late already and it’s time to leave.

           But this time, the visit isn’t social. Crowley simply appears at the bookshop, having gained the last of his powers to perform the easiest of miracles, and leans against one of the shelves, sinking slowly to the floor.

          There’s blood all over him – black stains on black clothes, barely even visible if it weren’t for his face, pale and tormented and bruised. He’s never looked so exhausted before, not when Aziraphale could see, and he’s never let himself be seen in such a wrecked state, usually patching his own wounds far away from the rest of the world, but now…

          Now he’s a mess of oozing gushes and broken bones, a monument of pain if one ever existed – whole body shaking, breath shallow and every movement raising up the hell he’s been put through in the past few hours. And about that Crowley isn’t going to talk. Not to the angel. Not to anyone. Because how that happened doesn’t matter. What matters is that he didn’t know where else to go – so he came here. He doesn’t say it out loud, but it reads in his eyes, filled to the brim with aching and weariness behind his helplessly broken sunglasses.

           Something he hoped would never happen.

[sauntering-serpenta]

@amrefevr

( alternatively ; a copy of the comedy of errors , a bentley figurine , snake eyes dice , oysters , & a pillow ? )

    “... Also quite a good selection.  More than acceptable.  Consider me summoned.”

[sxvenwonders]

@amrefevr sent a lil kiss meme! 

She was nearly out of breath from laughing, Mina panted and held her chest to try to steady her breathing in between the giggles. Thanks to Mr. AZ Fell, she was pleasantly drunk off a delicious wine that she’d never tried before, nor have been able to without his impressive private collection. 

It had been difficult being in London, away from her coven and away from the people that felt like home. Thankfully, Mina had found some comfort in the company of Aziraphale, and to some extent in Crowley (though he was more sporadically entertaining than consistently supportive). 

“I needed this, really...” she said with a deep sigh, thanking him with a soft smile before leaning over and gently pressing her lips against his cheek. “...you’re one of the good ones.” 

[orneryknight]

( magic sentence starters ; neutral ) ❛ what’s so special about it? nothing, of course. it’s not special. ❜ ( him probably trying to hide a miracle he just preformed ?? )

I Believe It’s Magic

“Angels, always so meek until it’s time to talk about the Lord Almighty, then it’s ‘I’ve come to grant your request at the Lord’s command!’ Carrying off teenagers who haven’t the slightest idea of what happens when invoking the Name.” Galahad jeered at the angel, though he was pleased that he had cleaned up his mess after startling him so much that he’d spilled his tea all over his copy of The Book of Abramelin the Mage. A seventeenth century edition, it wasn’t quite priceless, but it was old enough that he would have been very angry to see it ruined. 

Dusting off the pages as if that would possibly benefit them now that they were completely dry, Galahad centered his full attention on Aziraphale. “I meant the book. A Rabbi who I studied under gifted it to me in 1862, it’s very special to me.” Snapping the book shut, he returned it to its place beneath his desk and went to retrieve his tea kettle from the corner. 

“Would you like a cup? I seem to have spilled mine.” 

[oncomingstcrms]

@amrefevr said: “tea?”he held out a steaming cup towards crowley,“there’s a splash, perhaps two, of brandy in it.” he hoped to heighten it’s appeal “i opened my finest bottle for this. & if you promise not to throw it back like cheap wine, the decanter is just there should you desire more.” he motions with just his eyes to the age old bottle on the table. a glass too. he sits beside crowley near enough for the other to lean on should he wish or lounge out more so to rest his head on his lap.

    “Are you tryin’ to get me drunk?” Crowley smirks dryly, but takes the cup anyway. There’s no denying it, this feels nice, being cared about, and he’s always said tea without a bit of something stronger makes absolutely zero sense.

     He appreciates the gesture anyway. A somber mood like this usually makes him crave a drink, the stronger the better, without so much as thinking the word ‘decanter’, and they haven’t even talked much so far – it was a rough day. All the days have been rough, ever since the Apocalypse didn’t happen. Some were better, some were rougher and Hell has been on his tail all along.

      On the tip of his wing, that’s more like it. Demons don’t usually have tails, whatever art may suggest.

      “Thanks, angel,” Crowley mutters, feeling the heat of the cup rise and pulsate under his cold fingers. He likes the sensation and hot things in general – it’s a snakish habit, no internal mechanism to regulate body temperature. Some things never change.

     The splash of brandy in the tea spills warmth inside his chest, soothing, as he shifts closer to Aziraphale and looks at him with adoration hidden behind his sunglasses for a moment. After the bookshop had been brought back to life, Crowley began to visit more often than before, until he realized he was practically living here.

      Which, to his surprise, wasn’t bad at all.

      “I’ve been thinking ‘bout leaving London,” he says at last. “You know, travel around a bit, see what we’ve saved, settle somewhere in a nice cottage...”