#azeriphale

Guys, Imagine them playing Monopoly. Azeriphale would have all the money and houses. Crowley In jail constantly, slowly getting annoyed. 

‘So sorry-’

‘Shut up.’ Crowley said, Handing the £650 Monopoly money to the Angel. 

‘If it is any Consolation, I was running rather low on funds.’ Azeriphale said defensively. 

‘That’s because you brought a Hotel for Mayfair again!’ Crowley said as he picked up his glass and took a sip of the brandy they were both making their way through. 

Azeriphale rolled the dice and took his turn all whilst taking a massive bite of the cake he had on a plate to his right. Crowley laughed and then rolled the dice, landed on go-to jail and then threw the dice across the room. 

‘Did you-’

god I love this fandom.

CLOSED Role-play with @demonseekspeace

Azeriphale was, by his own definition, not much for parties. That is, unless it was a party of two. Otherwise, the angel truly had no interest in what others considered ' a good time. ' certainly, he wasn't one to judge ones particular lifestyle. It was against his nature, against the way that he had been taught to address such a situation. Though, even such a statement comes with technicalities.

The demon, Crowley, happened to be that technicality. From what he had heard through the metaphorical grapevine, the fallen angel was slowly wasting away. There was no desire to be among his own kind, to do any sort of bidding. He was, for lack of a better term, giving up.

Having known the other for centuries, there was urgency behind his visit to the small club in Dublin, Ireland. The urgency of getting the other to come to his senses.

That was what had brought Azeriphale to the acute, yet cluttered club in the depths of Ireland in the early 70s. He went looking for Crowley, to talk him out of his recklessness.

A thick smoke clouded the entire club. Women clad in lingerie dancing upon poles with immaculate upper body strength, Azeriphale noted. Men and women in brightly colored garments, dancing upon each other to whatever soft, Moody rock played upon the speakers of the club. What substance lined upon tables, being snorted by some of the more daring inhabitants. Others, less daring, sat in circles, puffing on a marijuana cigarette. Few drank, too busy in the other activities that the spot offered. " No wonder this is considered a den of sin." The angel whispered, squinting upon the smoke until he saw something familiar. Red hair, upon the smoke. Dark spectacles, laying upon one of the sofas covered in a particularly loud pattern.