RueFoot



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  1. Public Bookmark 28

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    Summary

    “Crowley, you can’t steal a swan from the park.”
    “I concur, angel. I have quick hands and very deep pockets.”

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    5,155
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    23
    Kudos:
    162
    Bookmarks:
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    17 Nov 2019

  2. Public Bookmark 20

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    Summary

    Fraternizing.

    The word was acid on his tongue when he went to sleep in 1862, and it's still burning there when he wakes up in 1912. It's burning as he throws off the black sheets and down comforter, which has spectacularly failed to live up to its name, which is fine because he doesn't want comforting. He wants to bite things.

    Fraternizing.

    Crowley miracles himself up a new set of clothes, not caring if they're fifty years out of date or not, and stumbles out of his flat in search of information and alcohol, not necessarily in that order.


    Or, what Crowley does during those eighty years.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    2,914
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    14
    Kudos:
    116
    Bookmarks:
    20
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    09 Nov 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Days turn into weeks turn into months, and Crowley starts to feel restless. He considers booking a ticket on the Titanic just for a lark, but can't be arsed. He feels very little when he hears the ship has sunk. Clever humans, but never underestimate the power of an ordinary cock-up. Or of water, in any of its forms. The Flood taught him that one.

    Fraternizing.

  3. Public Bookmark 25

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    Summary

    “It’s just an apple, angel.”

    Only that was never the case, was it?
    When you have consumed as many stories as Aziraphale had during his long life - when your longest standing relationship was a clandestine affair with a demon of all people - you knew that an apple was never just an apple.

    -
    Aziraphale, on temptation.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    8,438
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    23
    Kudos:
    129
    Bookmarks:
    25
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    828

    27 Oct 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “I know you like your first editions.” the demon says when questioned, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Beneath them, the Bentley swerves onto Regent street at a casual ninety-miles-an-hour . “And I like how the candyfloss versions of fairytales are the most popular ones these days. Old Jacob and Wilheim haven’t stopped rolling in their graves since the nineties.”

    “And I suppose you just happened to pick Snow White? Accidentally?”

    “You’ve got to admire someone that dedicated to aesthetics, angel.”

    ***

    This is sweet to read while drinking cider.

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Summary

    Crowley had waited six thousand years, kept it all in check. But this was the slipperiest slope he’d ever set foot on and as soon as he’d indulged in a few discretionary acts of kindness he was falling face first into pining, tumbling into flirting, about to dislocate his knees on the sharp rocks of intimacy.

    Was this really it? What he had waited six thousand years for? A stupid flower show? Aziraphale wasn’t pulling away from him. Maybe… maybe this time he wouldn’t? Maybe they’d hold hands again. Maybe tonight with a bottle of merlot in them he’d finally work up the courage and just kiss him and he wouldn’t pull away.

    The very moment he’d thought it he spotted the problem at the flower show.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    46,188
    Chapters:
    10/10
    Collections:
    2
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    321
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    675
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    23 Oct 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “No need to be smarmy.” The words lacked any bite and Aziraphale was avoiding his eyes. Not in the bad way, in a way that made an egg timer in Crowley’s brain go bing!

    Heads up, look alive. The angel wanted something.

    “Anything interesting in the paper?” he asked casually.

    “As a matter of fact...” Aziraphale paused and Crowley knew this would be good. Something he could really sink his teeth into, put on a big show of reluctance, make the angel all but beg. Make it something he had to ask for all out in the open and then be so pleased and cherished when Crowley indulged him.

    “Spit it out,” Crowley said.

    “The Sandford village fete. It’s on this weekend.”

    Jackpot.

    ***

    I find this to be so sweet and terrible, in terms of what it does to one's emotions while reading. I love the flashbacks to the plagues and I love the negotiations that both Aziraphale and Crowley engage in.

  5. Public Bookmark 83

    Words:
    125,450
    Works:
    19
    Bookmarks:
    83

    20 Oct 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    This is such a beautiful, canon-compliant series.