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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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    15 Jun 2019

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He's a highblood, and highbloods are prone to highblood rages. You can see it in the way his hands tremble, long fingers clenching in fury when he gets cornered, taunted by one troll or another; you can see him take his anger and lock it away, watch him drop into a state of false calm, and you worry more with every day that passes. You aren't sure how long he can keep himself under control, and you don't think any of you will come back to life if you die again. You don't want anyone to die, and you don't want him to be forced into a position that causes him to hurt someone.

    You don't want anyone to die, but everyone on this fucking asteroid seems hell bent on making it happen.

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    02 Mar 2019