StarlingSeeker



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “Last night in Hell,” Husker says, and the look on his face makes Angel feel like he’s drowning. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. “You wanna make it count?”

    Angel answers easily, in spite of how hard it is to speak without choking on his own tongue. “I thought you’d never ask.”

    (In which tonight could very well be their last night in Hell before the war against Heaven, and Angel and Husker decide to give into temptation.)

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    24 Apr 2024

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley isn't sure how to ask for something when he doesn’t even know what it is that he wants.

    the following fic has not been modified from its original version. it has been transferred to a different account.

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    17 Oct 2023

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental.

    It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

    Language:
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    16 Oct 2023

  4. Public Bookmark 34

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    A glimpse into Crowley’s friendship with one of his favorite humans, a dissection of Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, and slight dip into the existentialism faced by immortal beings on a mortal earth.

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    21 Sep 2023

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Post-season-two. Crowley's moping, Aziraphale wants to fix things, and turns out, there's enough blame to go around.

    -----
    “You’re being ridiculous.”

    Crowley very nearly falls over.

    Like, actually. He very nearly loses balance for no reason at all and tumbles to the sidewalk next to his car. He’s been playing Aziraphale’s voice in his head for weeks, he’s been trying very hard to drown out the sound of it, in fact, and now suddenly, abruptly—

    “What are you doing here,” is all he can think to say. He whirls around, and there he is. On Crowley’s right, standing there like he’d never left. Where he belongs, Crowley’s mind helpfully supplies. He wishes he could punch himself in the brain, knock the thoughts right on out of there.

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    13 Sep 2023