The more I think about the last minutes the more I’m sure Crowley was saying goodbye from the minute Aziraphale told him he’d said yes to Heaven. He doesn’t confess his love like he’s hopeful, he confesses it like a eulogy. He doesn’t kiss him to make a beginning, he kisses him to seal the end. He watches him go like it’s the last time.
Crowley knows Heaven. He knows they’ll want to either make Aziraphale just like them, or destroy him. Either way I think he believes he’s seen his angel for the last time.
10K notes
·
View notes
a continuation of this post
-
Demons do not need to sleep, and yet he does, mostly because time spent unconscious is not time spent crying, which demons also do not do, and yet.
A deep, crushing pain resides in the middle of his chest—a heartbreak not entirely unfamiliar; he never forgot the smell of burning books and the lack of his angel's presence anywhere on earth. He never forgot what it felt like to lose Aziraphale, and the reminder he received was entirely unnecessary.
If anyone were to ask, he'd deny the crying, arguing that technically not a single tear has left his eyes in the last three months, sixteen days, and seven hours—not that he is keeping count—although there is no one left to care. Except Muriel, who adjusted surprisingly quickly to living on earth and having a demonic snake curled up by the window.
Crowley sleeps and endures a never-ending series of nightmares for about two months, and while he wakes and slithers out of his chair, he decides to remain in his serpent form.
The most surprising development is perhaps how easily he bonds with Muriel. They offer up a steady arm, having switched the uniform for a sunshine-yellow pastel jumper and a simple black skirt, and to hell with it all, the warmth, the touch, the soft breaths, and the regular heartbeat pulsating next to him do not heal the wound, but they stop the bleeding; for a while, anyway.
So they go about their days, Crowley coiled around their shoulders while they read or do inventory, reorganise books, and then organise them differently as soon as they're done, never selling a single copy. They sing, too, having apparently discovered a lot of earthly pleasures during his nap, low and quiet, soothing in a way he did not expect.
Once upon a time, not too long ago, the Serpent of Eden wrapped around an angel's shoulders was a familiar sight. The serpent remains unchanged, although if you were to ask anyone regularly passing by the shop, they'd tell you it seems sadder now, somehow.
The angel has changed, however.
As time passes, Crowley waits not in a garden but in a bookshop, longing for a thunderstorm and a white wing above his head. He watches the sky, he watches the door, and he waits and waits and waits.
4K notes
·
View notes
what i hate most about the dynamic aziraphale and crowley have is the way people somehow always seem to interpret it as crowley loving him more than aziraphale loves him back. and it's sooo frustrating because yes crowley is more open and honest about how he feels but aziraphale shows it, reeks of it. literally one of the things that fuel his internal conflict is that he cares for and trusts and loves crowley so much that for the first time something actually rivals his devotion to heaven, so much that he agrees to the fucking arrangement because he trusts crowley more, so much that he doesn't even know where to put it or what to do with it or how to admit to it
every single time he "chooses heaven" it's because he's allowed himself to sink too deeply into this love and that's what springs the catholic guilt into action. the final scene isn't even aziraphale choosing heaven over crowley, but him saying i can make heaven good enough for you, and he's so fucking happy because he thinks he's finally found a loophole, and when crowley says no he literally thinks he's the one being rejected. quite literally the entire show is aziraphale trying to find a way around it and explain it away and make excuses but my brother in christ he loves him so much he can't even bear to face the magnitude of it
3K notes
·
View notes
*bracing myself on my knees and trying to breath, nursing a cramp*
I got here as fast as I can. I just wanted to point out that THIS…
Is one of the gayest fucking lines of television I’ve heard in my life.
Even if the presence of the song itself somehow wasn’t a flashing spotlight enough, the literal voice of God directly draws attention to it. Telling us that in universe, a nightingale really is in fact singing in Barkley square, and to know its music is sweet regardless of if we can hear it. Just like there are really in fact angels (one fallen but we’ll let it slide) dining at the ritz, and they’ve been falling in love regardless of if they’ve been allowed to openly pursue that feeling.
And hell, maybe it’s BECAUSE of the traffic that the nightingale finally sings. Perhaps it wasn’t ready until it was sure no one else could listen.
5K notes
·
View notes
Everyone talks about The Bentley alot. About their personality, what role they'll play in S3, ect.
But I haven't seen anyone mention The Bookshop.
And I hope The Bookshop will be left alone in S3
She got burnt down in S1
And in S2 she got invaded
AND her owner left
In S3, I want Crowley and Muriel take good care of her, and nothing bad to happens. Poor Bookshop needs a break!
532 notes
·
View notes
it's the fact that crowley became more protective of aziraphale after he thought he lost him in the fire.
he experienced what it would feel like to lose him and he knew he never wanted to go through that again, so in season two he does everything he can to keep him from harm.
he threatens and he fights and he leaves only to return just as quickly, and he makes the promise "i won't leave you on your own" because the last time he left in anger he came back to find that aziraphale was gone.
and if he has to experience that heartwrenching grief that had him sobbing on the floor of a flaming bookshop ever again then what would be the point of it all?
1K notes
·
View notes