The Captain's Table (multimuse sideblog)

A multi-muse, multi-verse blog (sideblog to canspotatimeagent). .01 home .02 ask .03 submit .04 muses .05 about .06 rules .07 thread tracker .08 starter calls (also please be aware mun in a PhD student and therefore replies are likely to be slow)

[the-captains-table]

anderwhohn​:

the-captains-table​:

The angel in question has been dusting the shelves of his bookshop. Well, he had started out dusting them, but then he happened upon a particular tome that he completely forgot he had acquired and for the past two hours, has stood unmoving from that spot as he reads through a history of the Phoenicians, chuckling to himself every now and then at the fond memories he and Crowley have from that time period.

As well as the multiple inaccuracies the antiquarian author includes in the text.

Distantly, he hears the Bentley approach, park, and have its door slammed shut. He barely has time to register that Crowley has even entered the shop before he’s being slammed against the wall, dropping the book to the floor. 

As Crowley rants, Aziraphale’s eyes widen, suddenly panicking that this is it, this is when Crowley decided he’s finally fed up with him and his fussy ways enough to leave for good. However, as the rant continues, the angel softens, his face falling.

“Oh, oh my dear boy, no, not at all,” he starts, reaching a hand up to cup the demon’s cheek. “Crowley, of course I love you. I’m an angel, that’s simply what I do.” He hesitates then, as this is the first time they’ve truly broached the subject of proper feelings. “And more than that, my dear… well, suffice to say, you needn’t leave. Ever.”

Behind the dark lenses of his shades, serpentine eyes widen in shock at the initial touch before he all but melts into it, pressing his cheek further into Aziraphale’s hand, greedily soaking up the affection as it’s offered so freely to him. Eyes drifting near closed with contentment from the touch alone, he nearly misses his angel’s words themselves before his brain catches up with the rest of him.

There’s a desperate vulnerability to the fallen angel… demon… as he swallows thickly, torn between his relief at hearing the words ‘I love you’ fall from his angel’s lips - directed at him, no less! - and that part of him that was nearly broken so long ago by Her rejecting him for simply asking questions, stubbornly refusing to believe it’s even possible for anyone to love him anymore, much less his being loved by someone like Aziraphale.

Crowley’s gaze flicks down to Aziraphale’s lips, so close as they have been several times in their millennia together, and just like every time he’s found himself in a position like this, he wonders just what it would be like to kiss his angel. [A curiosity that may well have already been answered had it not been for the incompetent satanic nun who interrupted them too soon during their desperate search for the misplaced Antichrist…]

But just like all those times in the past, he hesitates, hiding behind the safety of his sunglasses to keep the look of want from being quite so obvious even as he can feel his corporation betraying him as heat crests in his cheeks.

“Right! That’s… ngk…” His words cut off as he’s obviously flustered, given how he’s still practically pinning Aziraphale to the wall, the fight having left him as quickly as it started. Though he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let go of his angel or step back from him either. “That’s good then. Very good. Very, very good.”

“I’ll just… stay, then,” he finishes awkwardly, fidgeting in place even though he still hasn’t let go.

Those blasted sunglasses. Aziraphale both loves and hates them. He hates that Crowley insists on wearing them, hiding away one of Aziraphale’s favourite things about his demon. But he also loves that he’s the only one (as far as he knows) that Crowley takes them off for. He likes to imagine that it’s only when Crowley is at his most content, his most comfortable, that he lets his most ethereal side shine through. And only Aziraphale gets to see it.

Despite the glasses, Aziraphale can see when - and where - Crowley’s gaze dips. A bastard little smirk plays at his lips then, and his hand moves from Crowley’s cheek to instead tug those blasted sunglasses off.

“My dear,” he starts, leaning in ever so slightly. “I do hope you’ll stay a bit closer...”

[the-captains-table]

anderwhohn​:

@the-captains-table || semiplotted thingy.

Six thousand years. For over six thousand years, Crowley has tried. He has tried, and yet his angel stubbornly refuses to see what's right in front of him.

Well, fine! If that's how it's going to be. They've ended the bloody Apocalypse-that-wasn't together, for Hea-... Hel-... Someone's sake! Surely that meant something.

Doesn't it?

Of course it does! And if Aziraphale can't see that, well... Crowley will just have to... Have to... Bloody hell, why can't his angel just see what he's been trying to get through to him for thousands of years?

Stepping out of the Bentley, he gives the car a quick pat before sauntering into the bookshop, glaring at the lone customer who lets out a startled squeak and hurries out the door, giving the demon the prime opportunity to snap his fingers, locking the door and turning the sign to 'CLOSED' with a demonic miracle.

"Angel!" he snaps, giving the angel little warning or quarter as he shoves him up against the nearest bookshelf, undirected anger radiating off him in waves. "This had to end. Here and now. I can't do this anymore. I won't do this anymore!"

"I've been your friend sssince the beginning. But I can't... I just can't! Not one more day!" Grasping the angel's ridiculous tartan, he gives him a meaningful shake as he hisses, "I won't be ignored by you anymore! You either love me back or I'm leaving! For good thisss time!!"

The angel in question has been dusting the shelves of his bookshop. Well, he had started out dusting them, but then he happened upon a particular tome that he completely forgot he had acquired and for the past two hours, has stood unmoving from that spot as he reads through a history of the Phoenicians, chuckling to himself every now and then at the fond memories he and Crowley have from that time period.

As well as the multiple inaccuracies the antiquarian author includes in the text.

Distantly, he hears the Bentley approach, park, and have its door slammed shut. He barely has time to register that Crowley has even entered the shop before he’s being slammed against the wall, dropping the book to the floor. 

As Crowley rants, Aziraphale’s eyes widen, suddenly panicking that this is it, this is when Crowley decided he’s finally fed up with him and his fussy ways enough to leave for good. However, as the rant continues, the angel softens, his face falling.

“Oh, oh my dear boy, no, not at all,” he starts, reaching a hand up to cup the demon’s cheek. “Crowley, of course I love you. I’m an angel, that’s simply what I do.” He hesitates then, as this is the first time they’ve truly broached the subject of proper feelings. “And more than that, my dear... well, suffice to say, you needn’t leave. Ever.”

[anderwhohn]

@the-captains-table (Aziraphale) || random starter.

There was a new book in Aziraphale's shop. That, in itself, was not an unusual occurrence, given the angel's love of books, in particular books of prophesies. But what made this book stand out to Crowley, however, was that he recognised it from somewhere from one of the few others he tolerated to be around besides Aziraphale himself.

"Angel?" he starts, a wry smirk twisting at his lips as he struggles to keep from outright grinning. "Where did you get this one? Last I'd seen it, it was in Layla's private collection."

"Surely a celestial being such as yourself would never stoop so low as to steal it, would you?" he asks, his words nearly dripping with sarcasm and maybe just a hint of pride for his angel's lesser seen devious side.

[the-captains-table]

"My dear," the celestial being pulled himself to full height, tugging his waistcoat down and adjusting his bowtie. "I would never steal anything, and I'm frankly insulted you would insinuate otherwise."

With his nose firmly in the air, full of self-importance and prim outrage, Aziraphale shifted his shoulders, a rather smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I prefer to think of it as rescuing a poor, discarded treasure and placing it in a setting where it would be appreciated and well-cared for. Honestly, you know how full her collection is, she'll hardly notice that it's missing."

[canspotatimeagent]

IT'S OFFICIAL, I HAVE HANDED IN MY THESIS.

611 pages, including appendices, and something like 200,000 words (the main text itself is around 95k).

Now I sleep for a week BUT THEN. ALLLLLLL THE RETURNS.

[canspotatimeagent]

//the return...?

//I have an official hand in date for my thesis!

as some of you may know, this has been the write-up year for my doctoral thesis. it's been... a hell of a year. BUT! I will be handing in on 20th December so expect me back around Christmas time! for those who are still here, at least <3

it's not the full end of my doctoral journey - after I hand in, my examiners will spend about 2 months reading it and marking it, then I'll have to do my thesis defence/viva, which will only take 2 hours but will be NERVE-WRACKING. then I'll be told if I pass with no corrections (very unlikely), minor corrections (most common), or major corrections (god I hope not). then I'll have a month to do those corrections and resubmit, AND THEN it's all done. so even though my hand-in is in December, the whole process isn't done until about April, BUT AT LEAST I'LL GET A REALLY NICE BREAK IN THERE.

i'm so ready for this research project to be done.

[elizamaru]

There is an unfinished piece by Sir Thomas Lawrence in which most of his process is visible. I find it very fascinating, so I tried the same thing with the lovely Ineffables in his style :)

*In the end I actually reconstructed his workflow after painting everything in because we don’t work the same way. What a perverse thing to do...*

[slashgod]

Crowley accidentally getting into an argument with an astrophysicist, proving all current scientific theories flawed, and providing a brand new theory with solid foundations.

It gets dubbed the devils theory, or in some places, the serpents science.

[slashgod]

Carin this is the perfect addition!

[slashgod]

Crowley getting invited to give guest lectures at conferences. He figures he’ll be rude and obnoxious, comes in wearing heelies and a crop top that says ‘bottom space bitch’, and the guests loose their fucking minds.

They love him!

[quietwhim]

I can just imagine Crowley’s reaction to all of this!!! He would be like

“Come on!!! I look horrible and disrespectful!!! Kick me out!!!”

[slashgod]

And they’re like “no! You’re exactly what we need! Someone with fresh ideas and uncaring of the stuffy rules academics have in place”

[starlighthawke]

The lecture hall is packed, experts and students alike attending from all over the world. Anyone would feel honored by the attendance, not to mention the buzz the event has been generating for nigh a year. Rumors were flying, whispers about the potential of a Nobel Prize being awarded.

Any normal human would be feeling at least a bit anxious, probably sweating and dropping notecards all over the place in a tizzy of excited nerves.

Good thing Crowley isn’t human, then.

Aziraphale was in the audience, of course. Aziraphale, the angel who never let him live his mistake down, who brandished his book at any and every possible moment like both weapon and shield, only ever silenced if Crowley managed to kiss the thoughts out of that heavenly body.

He’s going to kill him. But it’ll be worth it to get everyone off his back.

It’s time. Throwing open the door to the hall, Crowley announces his entrance by taking the loudest, most obscene slurp ever heard in the history of man from his 7/11 slurpee, burping immediately after. The room goes silent at once, every eye on him as he rolls down the aisle in freshly bought heelies, standing tall to proudly display the hot pink crop top he’s wearing. Obnoxious and curly letters proclaim “Bottom Space Bitch” in loud colors, most definitely an eyesore to any who look at it. Forfeiting his normal skinny jeans, he sports a pair of space-print leggings (styled after Alpha Centurii, of course) that leave nothing to the imagination, every curve of his body on display. On top his head rests a dark green beanie, a silver snake adorning it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find his angel’s horrified face and he tosses him a wink, raising the slurpee cup in greeting. The embarrassment ripe in those eyes causes him to chuckle, taking another noisy drink.

Not a sound beyond his own can be heard in the room as he rolls to the stage, deciding to put a pin in the entire affair by jumping directly up to the raised floor rather than taking the stairs like a civilized being. He’s a demon, after all; manners only matter if they serve his purpose.

I did it, he thinks, turning to gaze upon the stunned audience. I’ve broken their admiration.

He hasn’t felt this proud since designing the M25.

“Hello,” he says, tapping the mic and grinning when feedback echoes throughout the room. “I’m Anthony J. Crowley, and everything you thought you knew is wrong.“

Before he can continue the entire room stands, their boisterous applause causing him to take a step back in surprise. What’s this? Whistles break out of the crowd, and people begin shouting absolutely ridiculous things.

“What a breath of fresh air!”

“Thank you for bringing life into the field again!”

“Your shirt is amazing!”

Mouth open, he pops down his sunglasses, eyes scanning the crowd is disbelief. They... like it? This train wreck of a man he created?

Well, now what is he supposed to do?

His gaze lands on Aziraphale, sitting in third row center, arms folded and laughing the hardest he’s ever seen. Eyes narrowing, he hisses under his breath.

This event just turned from fun prank into boring lecture.

And he’s going to make sure to thank Aziraphale for it later. Properly.

[thechekhov]

To quote ye gods of old.... my hand slipped. 

[thechekhov]

bonus:

[slashgod]

💙💜🖤❤️🧡💛💚

[saturncix-deactivated20250309]

wow

[saturncix-deactivated20250309]

just thought i would bring this back so i can see it more often

[big-sharp-cutty-thing]

@thechekhov i adore the fact that az had to use a not-at-all frivolous miracle to operate crowley's smartphone.

[agxntkeen]

ineffable husbands + love tropes

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

[asparklethatisblue]

A great miracle happened there… quite on accident actually. Crowley just wanted to keep moral up a little bit. For the second day of Chanukah Omens, with “Blessing”

⭐️ Commission Info ⭐️

[whispsofwind]

You know what.

The more I think about it, the less I think Aziraphale is an introvert. At least, not an introvert in the sense that he prefers to keep away from big groups of people all the time, like I occasionally saw him described as. I see this in human AUs especially, where he's sometimes a shut-in snob compared to Crowley's nocturnal social butterfly.

I should preface it by saying that I don't think introvert and extrovert are opposite. They're two extremes on a scale where everyone needs different amounts of human interaction and loneliness to be happy. And it seems to me that Aziraphale is kind of in the middle of this scale.

Looking at his hobbies, the things that make him happy - outside of the books - are all activities that require people around him.

Theatre and concerts and opera are all activities born from common people getting together to enjoy themselves. Going to theatre or listening to opera meant to be surrounded by people. To share the experience.

But ok, one could think Aziraphale enjoyed these activities despite other people.

Except, then there is his "discreet club", with a dance that required a lot of people on the dance floor.

There is his magic act: not only a magic act requires an audience, Aziraphale had signed up for a class.

He had attended a class in the 1870s run by John Maskelyne, and had spent almost a year practicing sleight of hand, palming coins, and taking rabbits out of hats.

In the show we see him go to a Japanese restaurant, and we see that he throughly enjoys every facet of it, knows the chef personally, and is in good terms with the man.

And I can't help but think of Aziraphale, playing a table game all by himself, in a public space, and lightening up like the sun when he recognizes Crowley in the popina.

Even the fact that some of his books are signed "to my dear friend Aziraphale", or something along the same lines, suggests that Aziraphale sought some writers out, perhaps went to literary circles at some point.

What I'm getting at here is that I suspect Aziraphale craves the connection and the companionship. He was denied that connection from his fellow angels, he doesn't fit in there, so he looks for it elsewhere. With humans... and with Crowley.

And then, sometimes, he needs to be alone for a while. To relax in his own private space, sometimes with Crowley (the only person who is even allowed in Aziraphale's private space), and sometimes completely alone. Which is something Crowley understands.

“Not much more,” said Aziraphale, who had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late?

And Crowley had always got the hint.

So what I'm trying to say is, I feel like Aziraphale really loves spending time in good company, and most of his hobbies are enjoyable precisely because they're shared. Obviously Crowley is the best company, but Aziraphale seems to really like spending time with humans as well.

And then, when he's tired, he recharges his batteries in private with the company of his beloved books and perhaps a good cup of tea or hot chocolate.

What do you guys think? Am I completely missing the mark here?

[lwgph]

I think you're right!

[indieninja92]

for me personally i actually have never headcanoned them as aziraphale=introvert, crowley=extrovert, i actually think theyre the opposite. in the book, crowley spends his free time watching telly on his own, going to the cinema on his own, reading books (and pretending he isnt) or hanging out with one (1) chatty angel. he reminds me of my introvert friends who want to hang out one on one, in places we can talk, and where they know i will happily carry an entire conversation with myself if they dont have the energy lol

meanwhile aziraphale does things, joins classes and clubs, enjoys eating in restaurants and getting to know the chefs (and i suspect the wait staff lol) i think hes the type to chat to you at a bus stop at the smallest provocation. he doesnt like people in the shop but as anyone who's worked in retail knows, customers arent people 😂 ive always headcanoned him as a basically extroverted, outward-facing person, with a one big quiet sitting down hobby in reading. meanwhile crowley I think is more introverted and introspective

[dec-d]

💍

[flurgburgler]

I just thought they should have had some fun medieval hats that’s all

[nadsdraws]

"I'd marry you, you know, if it were permitted for men like us."

A year ago I've read a fic that inspired me to pick up the pencil again, after almost 10 years of inactivity. Since then I bought a tablet and been drawing like crazy:) That story was Pray for Us, Icarus by @brightwanderer and this particular era stuck in my memory so much I've always wanted to portray it. Thank you, bright, for your works ❤️

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

[hollow-head]

☕🐍

[brokendeathangel]

Gahhhh! Neil Gaiman making Aziraphale more cute! Whyyyy hnggg! My heart can’t take it! Aughhhhhhhhhhhh!!! My love for Aziraphale grows 1000% moreeeee ;w; 

When Aziraphale is thinking, he visualizes his thoughts in old timey-wimey theater style. HOW CUTE IS THAT WHATTTTTTTTTTTTT?!! AAAAAA!!!