Liz89



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  1. Public Bookmark 7

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    29 Nov 2019

  2. Public Bookmark 37

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    He heard it before he felt it — the tinkle of breaking glass, the crunch of shards as they embedded into something soft.

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    23 Nov 2019

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “It doesn’t make sense, does it? Why create something only to make them suffer? She says they’re Her chosen creations,” Lucifer snorted. Raphael looked up. Lucifer’s golden eyes were fixed beyond the two of them. They’d always had the same eyes and the haunted look in Lucifer’s was mirrored in his own. It was only years later that he’d learn how well Lucifer could lie. “Shouldn’t life be about happiness?”

    Not then, not yet, but it was the beginning of it.

    Raphael fell.

    All he ever did was ask questions.

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    11 Jul 2019

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    As their lunch stretches on Aziraphale slowly comes to realize that Crowley is—enjoying him. Enjoying Aziraphale’s conversation, and company, far more openly than he has in most of Aziraphale’s memory. And Aziraphale knows that he himself is just chattering on, letting conversational tangents carry him along, and—it’s definitely relief, for him, knowing for the first time in a long time that they aren’t being watched, that no one is keeping score for now.

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    Aziraphale realizes that Crowley's been saying something rather loudly for a week.

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    24 Jun 2019

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.
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    Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?

    But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.

    However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.

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    18 Jun 2019