#hereditary enemies

[starzishallfind]

Aziraphales favorite Disney movie is the fox and the hound send post

[slowlystupendousdelusion]

Props to Crowley because if I was supposed to enter my hereditary enemy's personal space on the same side each time I just wouldn't be capable of it.

He doesn't even do the L shape thing with his hands.

[ozzyoftheangels]

@lookitsstevie ART AS A STICKER DHJSJAJSJS

[tinsnip]

Once upon a time I wrote a fic about Crowley and Aziraphale, in which Crowley ponders why Aziraphale won't ever open his eyes during sex. People asked what Aziraphale's point of view was, and at the time I didn't know.

Now I think I might.

---

Aziraphale makes love with his eyes closed.

Crowley doesn't.

Which doesn't surprise Aziraphale at all. He knows Crowley too well, after all.

Well. Actually. There are perhaps some qualifiers: he thinks he knows Crowley. He is fairly sure about many conclusions he has reached about Crowley. Were he to write a treatise on Crowley, for what audience he cannot imagine, he is very nearly certain it would be well-reviewed and held up as a pedagogical marvel of accuracy, worth of the name of the renowned Doctor Aloysius Zephram Felle. [1] He's been watching him for thousands of years, hasn't he? That's got to be worth something, hasn't it?

And he's thought about this rather a lot.

The two of them have been dancing around each other for so long, circling closer and closer, and each time they pass within each other's orbit, Aziraphale learns a little more. How Crowley tilts his head. How Crowley flexes his hands. How Crowley laughs. He keeps adding to his private store of knowledge, and he's almost certain, really quite sure, that the little Crowley inside his mind is very accurate.

And of course that Crowley never closes his eyes. Not even when Aziraphale is with him. Really… well, with him. In a way that's rather Miltonesque, so to speak.

Even when Aziraphale has his own eyes closed… Crowley never does. Won't.

It's one thing, Aziraphale finds, to know a person. But it's quite another to understand them. And sometimes - most times - the way Crowley thinks absolutely baffles him.

(continue reading on AO3)

[9ndreus]

I bet you the phrase "dining with the devil" is a result of these idiots somehow

[ozzyoftheangels]

My silly little sad post S2 GO story

“I forgive you.”

“Don’t bother.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, his best friend, with his heart in his hands. At least, the heart that would be in his hands if he were truly human. He turned on his heel, walked out of their shop— out of Aziraphale’s shop, he climbed into their car— into his car, and held the wheel, his knuckles white with how hard he gripped it. He glanced through the window of the bookshop, and watched the elevator doors shut, Aziraphale disappearing behind them.

———

Aziraphale stood in the elevator, stepping out when he reached heaven. He stared at the button that would take him to hell, and for a fleeting moment, the idea crossed his mind. No. What’s done is done. He sighed, and stepped out of the elevator, nodding lightly upon being greeted by a few other angels, before he walked straight ahead, to his office. He bit his lip, looking around at the emptiness of the room. Aziraphale’s heart felt just as empty as the office. He already missed the books, and the cocoa, and the music…and Crowley’s plants.

“Oh, Crowley…”

He whispered, his eyes still wet from the tears Crowley had brought to them. He brought his fingers to his lips, which trembled. He could still feel the other’s lips against his own, and the way the demon had held the front of his coat so desperately, like he was scared to lose Aziraphale.

Like he was scared.

“..Oh, Crowley..” The angel whispered, a tear dripping down his rosy cheeks. “What have I done?”

———

Crowley slid his finger along the rim of his wine glass, glancing at the label on it. ‘Châteauneuf-de-Pape’. He sighed, and picked the bottle up, as if to pour himself another glass, before he let out an angry growl, throwing the bottle into the wall, making it shatter, and causing a pinkish red to seep into the wall, his plants trembling as they watched.

(Crowley had gone back to the book shop in a fit of anger, at first wanting to throw books around, but instead having gotten wasted and too drunk to stand properly for more than two seconds without needing to lean on something.)

He grumbled, and got to his feet, shooting at glare at his plants, snarling, and swatting their leaves angrily, his eyes wide, and furious. “What are you looking at?! I’m fucking fine!” He spat, his fingers curling as he dug his nails into one of the leaves on a larger plant. When he pulled his hand away, he ripped the plant, bringing the greenery with him.

“…”

He stared at the injured plant, his eyes widening in despair. Crowley brought his hands up to the shaking plant, and caressed the leaves, sobbing, his knees buckling as he fell to the ground. He clung to the pot that the plant was in, his face getting dirty as it was pressed against it.

Crowley had never truly cried like this before. In fact, he wasn’t sure why he was crying at all. It may have been because of the rejection he felt. Or maybe because he’d waited six thousand plus years to kiss the Angel. Or, perhaps, because hearing the Angel forgive him once again was his last straw.

“God damnit, Angel! I didn’t need you to forgive me! I just—“ He paused, needing to take a breath between his words, as the alcohol made it hard to think straight anyways.

“I just needed you to love me back!”

[tinsnip]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & The Bentley Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, The Bentley, Freddie Mercury (as the voice of the Bentley) Additional Tags: doesn't everybody talk to their car?, butter tarts, Canadian baking is not to be sniffed at, this is silliness, and i had a good time writing it Summary:

The Bentley rumbled disapprovingly, nearly sideswiping a city bus. “Look, there’s nothing I can do. He says we go too fast for him—” Rrrm. “All right! Fine. I go too fast for him. But you’re not helping.” Vrrrrm!

***

  In which Crowley talks to his car, the Bentley is passive-aggressive, and Aziraphale likes Canadian baking.

[tinsnip]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley Additional Tags: Conversation, Cigarettes, Animal harm (discussed), Sometimes it's hard to like humanity., Dialogue, Rationalizing Summary:

“I just think everything should get a say, that’s all. In how it gets used. Or what it gets used for.”

A sigh. “There is a plan, Crowley...”

“So you say. But I wouldn’t mind having a look at it. And I imagine the ducks feel the same way.”

Crowley and Aziraphale sit together, smoking, talking about Humanity.