#sparkkeyper

Prompt list #1 Fluff #46: “You’re hurt. Please just let heal it.”

Aww, thank you! Please do keep sending prompts, either from the lists or not! This prompt is from this list - please anyone feel free to send me any other prompts from it or any of the ones in this tag

‘I did try to warn them,’ Aziraphale says sadly, watching the humans fight in their new languages and start to gather in groups defined by them. ‘I really did try.’

Crowley snorts. ‘Humanity. Never going to listen and that was before this new thing of Hers. What is it called again?’

‘Languages,’ Aziraphale sighs. ‘I do wish it hadn’t meant splitting families over it.’ He nods down at the poor mother screaming in one language as her child weeps in another. ‘They hardly deserved it.’

Narrowing his eyes Crowley turns towards Aziraphale. ‘Not doubting Her are you?’ Please don’t angel. I... I don’t think you’re cut out for down there and... and Earth would be strange without you, he thinks but does not say.

‘Oh no, never. She has Her wisdom and this must be a part of the Plan. You know. Ineffability and all that.’ He looks down at the screaming child, now being held by their mother despite the language gap. ‘Just it is a rough Plan to watch happen.’

Crowley laughs at that. ‘It is indeed angel. Come on, I hear there’s some wine left over by the builders and they’re hardly in any state to drink it. Can’t let it go to waste, I hear it’s sinful.’

Aziraphale’s eyes light up. ‘Oh, they did have such good wine. Yes, we mustn’t let it go to waste.’ 

He takes a step forward and his leg goes out from under him. Crowley only just manages to catch him, one arm under his shoulder and one around his waist. Aziraphale groans and flinches and Crowley pulls up his robe. 

Thank you anon! <3

4. total number of words you wrote this year

According to Ao3, 108,017 (not quite as much as I expected, but I don't have another full non-2020-year of fic writing to compare it to)

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

I'm not really in the habit of listening to music while I write, but if I had to pic one for GO fic writing it would be Queen, for obvious reasons.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

There have been so many good fics this year, I couldn't pick just one:

Flowers from Hell, by @entanglednow - rated T, 41,968 words - part kidfic, part getting-together, all parts adorable and wholesome

The Genesis Loop, by @improbabledreams900 - rated M (violence and temporary character death), 53,151 words - Crowley gets stuck in a time loop of the first few hours after the Beginning, and tries to put his memories back together. Intense, thoughtful, and beautiful.

Tightrope, by @sparkkeyper - rated T, 1,298 words - Okay I'm not actually sure if I read this for the first time this year, but my bookmark was dated from 2021, so I'm counting it. An exploration of Crowley's anxieties regarding his relationship with Aziraphale, full of feelings, with a very very satisfying resolution. One of my all-time favorites.

This is the biggest mood I’ve ever seen. If having children makes somebody else happy, fabulous, but I am never ever EVER having kids and I’m sick of media/fic not bothering to show that as an option

It’s like there are two choices. They don’t want kids, and so never get pregnant, or they do get pregnant, and it turns out that deep down they really wanted kids after all.

Well fuck, I know what I'm drawing next

@sparkkeyper what do you mean

Writing GO prompts. Send me some here! I’m out, so please send more!

Crowley’s turned over for the third time when Aziraphale sighs and gets out of bed. He’s halfway across the room before the demon manages to flop over and look at him. 

‘Angel?’

‘They’re hurting you again,’ Aziraphale says simply, digging through their wardrobe. ‘Don’t even try to say they’re not.’ 

A sigh from the bed, followed by the sounds of Crowley untangling himself from the blankets. Complete with hisses of pain - it’s worse than Aziraphale thought.

‘A-ha!’ He pulls out the metal tub he was looking for and heads straight to the bathroom to fill it up.

‘I can Feel the healing miracles on that from here,’ Crowley calls as Aziraphale consults his selection of oils. ‘Still don’t think they’ll be much use.’

‘They won’t hurt,’ Aziraphale says as he waddles back in with the full tub. ‘Feet please.’

Crowley rolls his eyes but puts his feet into the tub, a small hissing noise escaping him. ‘Oh that’s nice,’ he says as Aziraphale rolls back his sleeves. 

Aziraphale smiles and gently lifts one foot up, swallowing his grimace at the scars covering it. With careful fingers he starts to massage them, trying to help in what ever way he can.

He can’t take away the pain, they both know that. But these burns, Holy as they are, are like any other wound. Any other scar. With Aziraphale’s care and a miracle or two, they have been able to improve them to a point they rarely bother Crowley anymore.

Rarely however, is not never. 

‘Will you be able to walk today?’ Aziraphale asks as he moves onto the other foot. ‘Or should I coordinate my outfit to match you?’

Crowley hums. ‘Not sure yet. Will let you know later.’ He leans back with a sigh. ‘Might be snakey either way.’

‘That’s perfectly fine. You are the finest thing I wear,’ Aziraphale says and Crowley opens one eye to glare at him.

‘Course I am. You’ve got no fashion sense without me.’

From this list - feel free to send me any other prompts from it or any of the ones in this tag.  More of my fics here

Crowley is full of light right now and he’s too dazed to care.

It’s a golden afternoon and they’re having a picnic in St James Park, on a tartan blanket Aziraphale had smuggled into his car when he wasn’t looking. Right now Aziraphale is recounting the latest of his successes in thrawting ignorant humans with the audicity to think they can buy books in a bookshop, waving around his cracker like it’s not loaded with cheeses. Between them sit two bottles of champagne, one unopened while the other is barely drunk. 

There’s no need to. Crowley has no desire to grease his words so he can say things he would never dare to sober and from the way Aziraphale’s not drunk anything, neither does he.

It’s a perfect day.

Crowley smiles, sinking into his angel’s words.

Then Aziraphale stops. 

Crowley blinks. ‘Angel?’

‘You’re smiling,’ Aziraphale says with wonder. ‘I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages.’

Squirming, Crowley feels the smile drop from his face. 

‘Don’t do that!’ Aziraphale cries. ‘I... I miss your smiles when they go.’ He looks down at the bottles then clenches his fists. ‘I hate that as the years passed, you stopped smiling like you were carefree.’

‘Hard to smile in Hell,’ Crowley says. ‘And harder each day to smile knowing...’

‘Yes rather.’ Aziraphale reaches out and pushes Crowley’s head up. ‘I would give anything on this Earth to see your smiles again.’

Crowley huffs, an amused noise. ‘Don’t have to go that far angel.’ He lets himself smile - not a forced one, but not as carefree as it was a moment ago. ‘Every smile I have is for you.’

Aziraphale leans in and kisses the corner of his smile, turning it into a real one as heat creeps into Crowley’s cheek. 

‘Much better,’ Aziraphale says leaning back. ‘You’re beautiful when you blush.’

‘Angel!’ Crowley snarls, the blush creeping up his face until the entire thing is red. He can’t seem to hide his smile. ‘You’re a bastard.’

From this list - feel free to send me any other prompts from it or any of the ones in this tag. Angst for sure this time?

The bell rings and Aziraphale looks up, already smiling. There’s only one being that would want to come into his shop on a day like today, even without the lovely bad smell he’s been cultivating for the past week. Sure enough a moment after the bell rings, Crowley strolls around the corner.

Aziraphale freezes.

‘Hiya Aziraphale,’ Crowley calls and wanders over to Aziraphale’s desk. ‘Watcha working on?’

‘You’re not you,’ Aziraphale says softly as he looks into the glasses of this thing with his love’s face.

It blinks, lifting the glasses. ‘What do you mean Aziraphale? I’m me.’

Its eyes are near perfect, the look in them the same Crowley has for any creature of the planet. But it’s not the look he has for Aziraphale, not the look he’s worn since the moment Aziraphale kissed him.

This is not Crowley.

But it is Crowley’s corporation.

‘Where is he?’ Aziraphale asks, rising from his desk and letting some of himself into his voice. ‘Where is Crowley?’

‘I’m right here you daft angel, look!’ Crowley shakes himself a little, rolling his eyes. ‘Who else could I be?’

Aziraphale snaps, pulling down the miracle he and Crowley set up the day after the world didn’t end. All doors and windows slam shut, the wards going up to keep the world out.

And, fortunately, stopping anything from leaving. 

‘What did you do?’ the thing with Crowley’s face says, voice suddenly cold. 

Aziraphale glares, calling on the Grace of his Lord and the fiery anger in his heart. ‘What Crowley and I planned,’ he says and holds out his hand, flexing it as he Calls.

‘Now, you are going to tell me where Crowley is.’

‘And if I don’t?’ the thing sneers.

Aziraphale closes his hand, his Sword in his grip. The thing steps back with wide eyes. ‘Then I Will Make You,’ he Says, the Word of the Lord in his voice. ‘And You Will Regret It.’

The thing blinks. ‘You won’t... you can’t... they said you’re useless!’

You. Took. My. Crowley. 

He raises his sword. Holy fire burns along it, the heat oppressive in the room. Books shy away from it as the thing begins to sweat.

You. Will. Give. Him. Back.

The thing takes one last look at the sword, eyes wide, before it shakes its head. Black smoke leaks from Crowley as he collapses, the demon possessing him headed straight for the door.

Aziraphale ignores it, dropping his sword so he can catch Crowley. It can’t escape anyway. He won’t let it.

‘Crowley?’ he says, blinking back tears.

‘Hey angel,’ Crowley whispers, eyes barely open and voice hoarse. ‘You saved me.’