Treklockian_on_K2



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    There’s a battle strategy devised by humans many millennia ago that's designed to overcome an adversary who is particularly well entrenched. Some walls are too tall and thick for a frontal assault, and must instead be bested through sheer dogged stubbornness.

    Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know it, but they were about to be put under siege.

    Fed up with an angel and a demon who are still avoiding any talk of Feelings, God starts to interfere. When it comes to the ineffable plan, sometimes things need a bit of a push.

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    21 Aug 2019

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    One night, in the bookshop, they were particularly drunk for no particular reason. Crowley snapped their wine glasses full, yet again, and slurred, apropos of nothing: “I was ‘fraid of heights for a while. Not the heights exactly… th’wind.”

    (Or, a headcanon that turned into a wingfic.)

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    21 Aug 2019

  3. Public Bookmark 13

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    Crowley was beautiful. Always. Every time Aziraphale saw him, he was struck by it. He wasn’t, of course, what an angel should find beautiful. He wasn’t light and pretty and ethereal. He was dark and dirty and made of bone and flesh and fire.

     

    Aziraphale liked Crowley's hair long.

    Prompt fic for "Braid or Curls" challenge on Agnes Nutter's Nice and Accurate Prompts.

    Language:
    English
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    1,000
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    20 Aug 2019

  4. Public Bookmark 3

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    Mrs. Dowling lit the last tealight candle, and stood back to survey her work. Is it enough? 100 tealight candles glowing in the dim, vast kitchen, and reflecting off every metallic, shiny surface. On top of the stove, on the counters, the center island, shelves, refrigerator. She ran through a mental checklist of all the prepared elements (last on the list was the tealights—check!). Doubt caught her for a moment—It should have been in the formal dining room—until the manifest magic of being surrounded by so many small flames, like fairy lights, sent a wave of chills over her neck and down her limbs.

     

    She sighed.

     

    If these two idiots don’t understand this, then, well…

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    20 Aug 2019

  5. Public Bookmark 6

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    “Bit of a theme for us, wouldn’t you say?” Crowley held out his hand, palm flat. A green stem wove free of the earth, stretching and twirling. Leaves sprouted, emerald and vibrant, before blossoming into a bright white flower. He smiled, voice distant, “Gardens always make me think of you.”

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    20 Aug 2019