i am out with lanterns

almost.

the trouble is—the trouble with the blank of my mind, and the numbness of my skin, and the empty, empty, empty hole in my chest—the trouble is that none of it has prepared me for the unbearable ache of wanting. of wanting… and of losing. i feel it in the spiraling of my thoughts, the pain in my palms, the relentless pangs of my heart that beats long past its due. ghosts, i imagine, trying to learn how to live in a world that is not meant for them.

(i wonder, sometimes, if it would have been easier to stay in the void. if the darkness would have been preferable to the burning.)

i can’t go back. i can’t have worked so hard and for so long learning to let myself be, just to turn my back on it now. i don’t know what would become of me if i had to.

please don’t make me find out.

and yet at night i find myself yearning for something more. in the dark i am lonely, despite not being alone. the people in my life shine bright as day, but in the evening shadows they are obscured into faint and distant things. i long for myself to be content, and yet i must admit that in those moments i am not.

the last time it happened was almost too predictable, and still i did not see it coming. the slow warmth of it growing, a gradual chipping of my barriers, the way i braced against falling and failed myself yet again. and when it ended, i was still taken by surprise. disappointed, to be sure, but oddly distant from the feeling. it took me only a day to move on, and even then with a strange sense of satisfaction, as if the universe was proving me right once more.

of course it would end, you knew in your bones that it would. impossible, that anyone could find you worth keeping, worth holding close.

it is an odd conflict within my mind. the stubborn resistance against any insinuation of fate or intelligent design, but still the doubt creeps in. perhaps the person i am (and i am fond of her, for once) is just not suited to be the subject of another’s affections. or, even worse, that i had only one chance at it and was found lacking, though through no fault of my own.

i will be happy, i think. i will make it so. i still have dreams of a home of my own, sun slanting through the windows and a cat curled up on the rug. if there is no one to slow dance with in the kitchen, so be it; i will dance with myself.

i think i might have been too much. i think i might have let my demons get the best of me. i think i was too scared and too foolish and i fell too hard too fast.

(it’s the falling that hurts the most, isn’t it. the moment of suspension, the hoping that someone will catch you, the realization that you’re on your own. the feeling of gravity bringing you in for a crushing embrace.

the falling.)

i think that my heart was too eager, too graceless. my words too shaky, too clumsy. i think about what i could have said differently, what magic words could have stopped this from ending, at least for a little bit. i don’t believe in fate and yet. it’s hard to shake the thought that i was always gonna ruin it sooner or later. in this world it is sooner.

most of all, i think about her. i think about her all of the goddamn time. what is she doing now. is she okay. is life treating her better. i hope it is.(does she ever think about me?)

and isn’t that the saddest thing, that even now there is the smallest grain of hope. stubborn, foolish thing. this isn’t like me, i have never been an optimist. push it down, push it away, bury it like i always do. let that flickering light fade away, let it die, extinguish it yourself if you must. just. let me let go.

i am trying to be kind to her, i swear i am. she is learning to be soft and vulnerable and she has been hurt by my own hand too many times for me to do it again.

take a minute. breathe. inhale, exhale. it’s going to be alright.

you’re not going anywhere, and as far as you can tell neither is she. you know how to be a friend, been doing it your whole life.

it’s okay to let your heart beat a little faster. let your stomach turn itself inside out with butterflies and lightning bugs. you can let your imagination run wild, wander through wildflower fields and dance gracelessly to love songs. and when it’s ready to come back, let it. be kind. welcome it back, gentle its unbridled energy (ask how the sunlight felt on its skin). sometimes it just can’t help overflowing with joy, and that’s nothing to punish it for. lord knows it’s been dreaming of this.

it’s okay if it doesn’t last. nothing does, really, and that’s no failing. sit on the shore, watch the waves lap at your feet. who knows, maybe she’ll sit with you, if only for a while.

you won’t fuck it up.

inhale. exhale.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Inspired by Doctor Who, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humor, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, First Kiss, lil bit of angst, Happy Ending, i'm emotional Summary: 

Crowley stubbornly stays silent as Gabriel steps even closer into his personal space. “Look at you,” the archangel sneers, circling around him in a perversion of Crowley’s usual saunter, “a demon following an angel around as if he’s on a leash. Pathetic. I don’t think your superiors would take kindly to that, you trailing after him like a lovesick—oh.” Gabriel stops suddenly, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disgust.

Aziraphale’s heart plummets. No, not like this. Please, not like this.

after the failed apocalypse, aziraphale vanishes, heaven tries to use crowley as bait, and it turns out that the angel has been hiding under everyone’s noses.

alternatively: just an excuse for me to rewrite That scene from “the husbands of river song” but good omens.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Established Relationship, i'm back on my bullshit, i cannot emphasize how soft and domestic this is Summary:

but the ‘what if’ is too attractive a thing to resist. a thing that never happened, but maybe could? a thing that i should be long over, but still makes my heart skip a beat? here i go again, opening the time capsule and spinning into a daydream. the kind of cliché that has me singing along to all the love songs on the radio and dancing alone in my room, makes me feel too big to fit in this body. balancing on a tightrope, doing the things i know i shouldn’t. it’s a thrilling high, all for someone who has forgotten i exist. oh, but how good it feels, until it all comes crashing down again.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Humor, Idiots in Love, They're stupid your honor, The Mortifying Ordeal of Someone Being Nice to You Summary:

Aziraphale rolls his eyes and carries on. "Yes, I know you’re not ‘nice,’ and yes, I know it’s against your demonic nature, and yes, I know it gives you allergies. But to be quite frank, my dear boy, you are my truest friend and you deserve to know it.”

“Eh…” Crowley trails off into a series of incomprehensible vowels and mutters something under his breath.

Aziraphale sighs. “Care to repeat that?”

“Yeah, uh… meant to tell you eventually, but… neverreallycameup.” Crowley sucks air in through his teeth.

(In which Crowley is not actually allergic to kindness.)

...

1. to be honest, you didn’t think you’d make it this far.

2. you don’t believe in god, but you think it’s funny to say that she nerfed you before you were born. it’s okay. you didn’t need her blessing anyway.

3. you are a nerd through and through. enjoy it.

4. you are never going to run out of things to be curious about, to learn, to investigate, to try to understand. do not stop doing this.

5. please keep writing. get your thoughts out, let them live on a page or in your phone. just make something. you’ll feel so much better.

6. oh my god you’re so fucking gay. oh my god i wouldn’t change a thing.

7. maybe get some more therapy. ao3 and uquizzes can only do so much. just a suggestion.

8. there will be an apartment. there will be a place for you. there will be plants in the windowsill and sun slanting in through the glass and stacks of books on every flat surface and maybe someone to slow dance with in the kitchen.

9. there will be a cat. you will love it so goddamn much.

10. there are only two reasons to exist. they are to be kind and to be better than you were yesterday. and that’s that on that.

11. whatever happens, you are strong enough to protect yourself. whatever happens, you will get through it.

12. there are people who love you. let them in.

13. whatever me is reading this in the future, i want you to know i am so excited to be you.

14. you’re gonna hate me for saying this, but there are good things inside of you. let them grow.

15. you’re going to be happy. on god you are going to be so happy.

16. some days it will sound like a threat. some days it will feel like the farthest hope.

17. it is a promise.

18. sometimes it will feel easy. sometimes it will be hard. sometimes you will break it.

19. it’s alright. it’s alright. it’s alright.

aziraphale’s smile morphs into a moue of disappointment. “i was just being polite,” he protests.

“i’d rather you not,” crowley grimaces. “it’s blessed and annoying and… and itchy.” he shudders at the thought.

“very well,” aziraphale sighs, then brightens. “what would you say to a bottle of wine?”

…

“that was very kind of you, crowley.”

“satan below, angel, warn a demon before you start throwing that stuff around.” crowley’s face twists up for a few seconds before he lets out a sneeze. rather adorable, in aziraphale’s opinion, if you discount the hellfire and brimstone.

reflexively, aziraphale says, “bless you.”

“for fuck’s sake.”

…

“i know you don’t like it when i thank you,” aziraphale begins, “but i want you to know that i really do appreciate you.”

“angel—” crowley starts, voice slightly strained.

aziraphale rolls his eyes and carries on. “yes, i know it gives you allergies, and yes, i know it’s against your demonic nature. but to be quite frank, my dear boy, you are my truest friend and you deserve to know it.”

“eh…” crowley trails off into a series of incomprehensible vowels and mutters something under his breath.

aziraphale sighs. “care to repeat that?”

“yeah, uh… meant to tell you eventually, but… neverreallycameup.” crowley sucks air in through his teeth. “‘m not actually allergic,” he says, wincing.

aziraphale blanks. “you’re what?”

crowley shuffles a bit uncomfortably and hunches his shoulders slightly as he shoves his hands into the tiny pockets of those damnably tight trousers he wears. “i’m not actually allergic to being thanked,” he explains, “or kindness, or any of it really. needed to keep a certain image—demon, you know—and it’s hard to do that when you’re so…” here he makes a gesture that aziraphale assumes means something between polite and an angelic prick.

“good,” crowley says instead, and aziraphale is taken aback.

“oh,” he breathes.

“it’s just, you don’t see yourself when you’re like that, angel,” crowley rushes on defensively. “all smiling and soft and delighted and earnest and, and—bloody incandescent, that’s what you are.” crowley shuts his mouth abruptly. “yeah, i’ll… i’ll stop talking now.”

“i see,” aziraphale says, winded. he sinks down into his armchair, his legs unsteady in the face of this revelation, and takes in the demon, his friend, standing frozen before him, a haphazard collection of limbs and nerves, black like splash of ink against the meticulously selected neutrals of the bookshop. takes in the reckless line of his mouth and the careful curve of his hands as those serpentine eyes dart back and forth all around the shop and every once in a while glance at aziraphale.

“crowley,” aziraphale says. he stops to take a breath before making direct eye contact with crowley and choosing his next words deliberately. “thank you for telling me.”

the reaction is immediate, and aziraphale catalogues it like it’s the most precious book he’s ever laid eyes on. crowley straightens, his mouth going slack with disbelief as he stares. a pink flush begins to emerge, starting from his neck and settling high on his cheeks. and his eyes turn gold from edge to edge, just like that first day in the garden, the pupils becoming impossibly round and his gaze is so full of adoration and surprise that aziraphale can scarcely breathe from the full force of it.

the thing is

do you remember when i told you my palms hurt when i cry, it’s happening right now, the aching pumped from my heart to my fingers and back again. another life line strung across the continent, another pair of scissors cutting too sharp.

the thing is it was my mistake. the thing is it feels like grief. it feels like loss, it feels like unwanted, it feels like being left behind.

how many more times will i get it wrong.

how many more times before i learn.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Trojan War, The Iliad References, The Odyssey References, Non-Explicit Sex, Tenderness, they just love each other a lot okay