The ineffable brainrotting

There is no way anyone can look at this expression, and say that this is the face of someone who wanted to give up his life for the „real universe”.

Like, I just can’t stop thinking about the fact Aziraphale got coerced by God into commiting suicide.

Because it was the head of that corrupted system that abused him his whole existence the one responsible for the coercion AND the execution.

It's actually way worse than if Gabriel had managed to kill him with hellfire in s1.

If there's one constant in Crowley's heart and soul that was never meant to change, it's his love for Aziraphale. It's so passionate, so indelible and so human.

All he wanted was to walk on earth alongside the one person whom he feels safe with. He wanted to dine with Aziraphale at the Ritz, he wanted to show his angel all about the constellations he created and tell him the meaning behind them, he wanted to spend lazy days inside the bookshop cuddled up on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand while both of them read Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" taking turns voicing the characters dramatically.

Crowley wanted to keep marveling at humans new technological advancements, he wanted to feed the ducks, water his plants and watch them grow, he wanted to see humans do human-y things, and all of this, was something he longed to do with Aziraphale by his side.

He has loved Aziraphale for 6,000 years, there's no way in heaven or hell or the faith of the universe where he would even THINK about giving that up. He loves Earth and is facinated by humans, but Aziraphale by his side is what made his love for these things matter in a much larger scale.

The Crowley I grew to love would not have sacrificed himself, but much less, sacrifice Aziraphale. That wouldn't have been something he would've even dream of considering.

Crowley choices always end up being tied to Aziraphale. That's what his heart wants and has always wanted.

This time for real.

‘Don’t you two FUCKING dare!’

And leaves.

Several large coffees, bottles of wine and a pile of Eccles cakes and a very long reading and interpretation session later Crowley sits back.

‘Beelzebub and Gabriel, huh? Did not see that coming.’

‘Never mind that, dear,’ Aziraphale says, as he continues carving symbols onto the floor. ‘There. That should do it. The Metatron can’t get in here now.’

‘And you?’ Crowley asks delicately. Aziraphale stands up and primly clasps his hands across his stomach.

‘I have no intention of going up to heaven under any circumstances and especially not now I know how it ends.’ He says. It’s his I Will Not Be Moved tone. Crowley knows it well. He is reassured.

‘Well, maybe pop up and get Muriel. But after that we seal up that lift, agreed?’ Crowley adds.

‘Agreed.’

‘Excellent. Dinner at the Ritz called for I think, to celebrate a very lucky escape. Coming, Angel?’

‘One thing…’ Aziraphale says, and Crowley notices the cheeks of his Angel have gone a little pink, and he is turning that ring on his finger round and round. ‘Prophecy number 547.’

‘547? Was that the one with the butterflies the size of giraffes?’

‘It was not,’ Aziraphale says.

Crowley takes a step closer. He always did enjoy this bit of the temptation, although he was not quite sure who was being tempted right now.

‘Ah, the one with the Welsh Choir serenading the Kraken with excerpts from popular musicals.’

‘No, not that one either.’ Aziraphale appears to have flushed a deep red.

Crowley takes a step closer now. He can feel it - the tingle in his fingers and on his lips.

There’s another first time coming. To add to the Wall, and the Temptation of the Ox Ribs and the Rescue of the Books and all those other first times that have led them step by step to this place.

A first time they had in any timeline, but this would their first time - they, Aziraphale and Crowley in this world, their world.

‘Oh, I know, the one with the crystal the exact size and shape of…’

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale snaps. ‘You know which one I mean.’

‘Oh,’ Crowley says softly. ‘The one where I tell you there’s an us.’

‘That’s the one,’ Aziraphale says, glancing down at the ground. ‘Of course, if you’d rather not, I understand, it’s asking too much, it’s…’

‘Angel,’ Crowley says, and he steps forward, taking off his glasses, and looks down at his angel, his enemy and ally, his closest friend. His love since he knew what love meant. ‘We have always been an us. We don’t need a prophecy for that.’

And Aziraphale, a soft and gentle angel, not a soldier or a leader, becomes a hero for that moment, and clasps Crowley’s collar and pulls him in for a kiss.

The stories you hear of people dying from rationing, this is what happens to their body.

Affordable insulin isn’t just a right, it’s a necessity.

snakes smell with their tongue

+ bonus: Stargazing Syndrome

I've gone. Not one for goodbyes, I thought it best to slip out quietly. Love to you all, Giles.