Aziraphale Thought Crowley Might Need A Little Help With Handling A Gun, But Things Didn’t Go Quite

Browsing books in libraries has been the direct cause for me of discovering new authors, new genres, and just basking in a deep sense of content to be (in the restful company of so many books and book lovers).

I found a new brush I love please have three of my Crowleys (hot lesbian blue collar Crowley, "we stan women in STEM" angel Crowley and book Crowley)

Er… books plural. Comfy fantasy reread + life shattering dark prose + gentle poetry + graphic novels.

I’m bored and nosy. Please reblog this with the book you’re currently reading.

“We’ve seen a lot, haven’t we?” said Crowley, contemplating the New Year’s festivities on the telly. The cottage was quiet, a gas fire going against the damp chill. They’d foregone any local celebrations for a bottle of port indoors; if Aziraphale noticed the miracle that caused it to refill every time they poured out another glass, he didn’t comment.

“A good many calendars too,” said Aziraphale. “It’s properly 5784 in the old reckoning, isn’t it? – or, no, eighty-five. And four thousand and something, I think, in China. Until sometime in February. The only constant is they all celebrate. Though I can’t think the Earth itself takes much notice.”

“Ah, humans. Any chance to get smashed.” Crowley gestured with his glass. “Or laid.” Eyebrow lifted.

“Is that a grandly romantic proposition? My, my. How old and married we’ve become.”

“Show you married.”

The handclasp that followed was, regardless of commentary, very fond, and very married.

“I think,” said Aziraphale, “it’s because humans tumbled to something early on that Heaven and Hell never did. We got to it in the end, you sooner than I, I fancy.”

“Wot’s that?” Crowley settled back against the cushions, regarding the blue glow of the London Eye on the screen, soon to be engulfed in cascades of fireworks. It always took him back to moments before Time started, though he never mentioned that to Aziraphale. Maybe he should.

“Well, that things can change. All those centuries, our Head Offices were playing what I believe is called a zero-sum game. A certain number of souls, a certain number of blessings and curses, a final reckoning where one side would win or lose. Eternal perdition or eternal glory. The best to be hoped for was a static and, to my mind, rather dreary perfection.”

Crowley hummed the opening bar of “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” (his pitch was execrable, but Aziraphale recognised it).

“Exactly. And then Adam came along and upended everything. Because he was, ancestry regardless, to his bones human. He’d learned humanity from the way he was raised. And the best thing Humans do, I think, is imagine that things could be different.”

A presenter was breathlessly advising viewers that in a few minutes, the display would commence, as if this were unexpected.

“They blunder and they do horrid deeds, and far too often they put your old firm to shame -- to say nothing of mine -- and yet somehow enough of them always seem determined that it doesn’t have to be that way. That misery can have an end, and cruelty isn’t inevitable. And even the least thoughtful of them mark these rather arbitrary dates with celebrations, and vows that next year they’ll work to become better. Even when there’s very little to celebrate, and everything seems to be dragging them backward into the dark, there are always those who carry on. That wonderful defiance that they do so well.”

“Lot on their plate this time,” said Crowley. “Let’s hope they don’t make a bollocks of it.”

“Here we go,” said Aziraphale, as flowers of fire began to bloom, blue and gold and crimson, across the small screen. Crowley chinked his glass against the angel’s.

“To hope,” said Aziraphale. “Happy New Year, darling.”

Comment and toast on AO3

Anyways now I need fanart of Crowley getting ‘Angel’ tattooed on his wrist as a gift for Aziraphale pleaseeeee

Reliable narrators do not exist. There are only degrees of unreliability.

I feel like many people have a fundamental misconception of what unreliable narrator means. It's simply a narrative vehicle not a character flaw, a sign that the character is a bad person. There are also many different types of unreliable narrators in fiction. Being an unreliable narrator doesn't necessarily mean that the character is 'wrong', it definitely doesn't mean that they're wrong about everything even if some aspects in their story are inaccurate, and only some unreliable narrators actively and consciously lie. Stories that have unreliable narrators also tend to deal with perception and memory and they often don't even have one objective truth, just different versions. It reflects real life where we know human memory is highly unreliable and vague and people can interpret same events very differently

Hi. Shout in!

Shout out to all the Aces who aren't Aro and the Aros who aren't Ace, we are lumped together so often so I'm here to say hi. Demi Queer, hopeless romantic here. Love uuuuuuu.

To Catch a Ghost - A Paranormal Vlog AU

To Catch a Ghost: The show where two (not) supernatural entities are on a quest to prove (or disprove) the existence of the paranormal. Without letting their unspoken feelings for each other get in the way.

Enter: a mad (?) old lady, an unassuming (haunted?) country cottage, and a nice-and-accurate book of prophecies that definitely can’t know their secrets (right??). Will they catch a ghost? Or (even more unlikely) talk?

Enjoy the show! Or else.

***** To Catch a Ghost – Read the full fic (human au, rated T) on ao3 now!

Written for the Great Omens Big Bang. Incredible artwork done by @cakegnome, beta work by @ineffablerainstorm and @beerok23. Thank you all so, so much!

10 or 11 little ducks have been spotted crossing the dash board