thenotwriter



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  1. Public Bookmark 33

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    “I need you,” said Aziraphale, which was far more straightforward than Crowley had been expecting, even after two bottles of wine. The angel stared at his plate, turning as red as the little gems of pomegranate seed on it.

    “Well,” Crowley said, at last, trying to keep any giveaway hoarseness out of his voice. “Here I am."

    “It’s just that—oh, dear, some things are so difficult to say over the telephone apparatus, aren’t they? Especially if you have your voice messages on. It feels so impersonal, and I really couldn’t wait any longer to ask."

    “Good strategy. I’m right here, go ahead,” Crowley said encouragingly, wondering if he should reach for the angel’s hand. Unfortunately, the angel’s closest hand was gripping cutlery as if it was a lifebuoy. Crowley considered putting his hand on one invitingly touchable thigh instead.

    “Will you come to a party with me?"

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    21 Aug 2019

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Tucking his sunglasses into the neck of his black t-shirt, he scans the crowded space for the man Anathema had described. Blond, she’d said. A bit old-fashioned. Crowley had taken that to mean no shagging until the third date but his eyes land on a man who looks like he just returned from tea in the Victorian era and he just knows he’s found his date. Ezra Fell.

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    13 Aug 2019

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    He discovered the ring in John's sock drawer.

    It all went a bit downhill from there.

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    12 Aug 2019

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Oh. Yeah.” Crowley shuffled his feet, looking surprisingly boyish. “Come to New York with me tomorrow?"

    Aziraphale blinked. “Why?"

    “To see how Warlock is doing,” Crowley said, as if that was obvious. “You’re a terrible father for an angel. I’m a demon, and I make a far better mother."

    "We're not his parents! He has two perfectly good parents of his own!"

    "Fine."

    ---

    Aziraphale is almost certain that Crowley is only being perverse. But demons are unaccountable creatures, and Aziraphale finds himself flying to New York with him, for some high-end hedonism, and at exactly which point did Crowley start referring to him as his husband anyway?

    ---

    Complete 20th August

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    11 Aug 2019

  5. Public Bookmark 40

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    For the first time, that evening, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. You couldn't hear it over the traffic but it was there all the same.

    Who was responsible for it, no one could say. They couldn't be sure, either, too wrapped up in conversations with each other.

    Whosoever's responsibility it was should possibly be credited, then, with what came next.

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    08 Aug 2019