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    Aziraphale doesn’t say anything for a moment. This is usually the part where he withdraws his arm. Instead, his fingers flutter at Crowley’s waist, a split-second pressure that’s gone as fast as it is light. He doesn’t remove his hand. “Why did you sit up?”

    Crowley wasn’t expecting that question. He stutters unintelligibly for a moment, trying to figure out how to ask Was I not supposed to? without, you know, actually saying that.

    (Or: Crowley constantly overthinks, and Aziraphale finally puts his foot down.)

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    29 Nov 2024

  2. Public Bookmark 22

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    The place bursted with green. Glossy, broad-leafed plants mingled with curious blossoms painted in vivid hues over every surface. The perfume of distant rainforests suffused the air. Fecund and contained, the glasshouse was an Eden, transplanted far from home.

    “Clever, isn't it?”

    One amber eye peered sleepily at Aziraphale from across the room.

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    28 Nov 2024

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    ‘Fell?’ the man asks. ‘Doesn’t suit you.’

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    27 Nov 2024

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Maybe he’d shown Crowley how to perform a few miracles, but that Crowley had taken to them so well was surely a sign that he wasn’t all bad. And maybe Aziraphale had let himself be called upon to perform a few temptations, but that was just testing the will of the faithful if you looked at it from a different angle.

    He wouldn’t have needed to resort to these techniques, he told himself, if Heaven hadn’t recalled so many of their other agents over the years, if humans with their sins and their saintliness hadn’t multiplied quite so quickly, if someone had explained to him precisely his position in the Plan. But they hadn’t, and he had to get along somehow.

    And anyway, if it were really so bad someone surely would have told him to stop doing it.

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    27 Nov 2024

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Aziraphale is always very careful with his wording. Crowley's never really been in a position to question it.

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    27 Nov 2024