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assorted shitty people

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☆ caught in the rain meme ☆ little steps meme ☆ affectionate physical contact meme ☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy ☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU ☆ melodrama is ultimate tier ★ SHIPPING AND FILTHY THINGS: ☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh ☆ things I won't rp: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character ☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty ☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

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[gentlyfell]

[Heaven will throw a fit, because loving thy enemy isn't meant to involve actually fucking them. Hell will, because tempting an angel is all well and good, but love isn't a part of that, and oh, the Almighty Herself knows he's acted solely out of selfish love these past twenty four hours (or eleven years, or six thousand).

So yes, they'll throw a fit. But they're going to anyway, so they might as well really sell it, huh?]

Which means we ought to figure out what to do with-- with those sides.

[He doesn't pull back, because he doesn't want to, but his voice is at least a little more brisk.]

Does Heaven execute people? Because Hell does. Hell loves that kind of thing. Do you know how many demons I've seen on trial? That's their whole shtick: awful punishments for varying crimes.

[oldsofa]

[Oh, good, they can get this messy business out of the way at last. It won't be a relief, not until the morning or whenever Heaven and Hell decide to make their moves (which will undoubtedly be at the same time, so very alike as they are, ultimately), but it's progress.

They do work so well together, after all. Aziraphale still finds a moment to run his fingers theough Crowley's hair with a curious little hum.]

You get trials?

[So, yes, things are actually quite grim. He moves right along, looking over his shoulder at where his coat was left earlier and quirking an eyebrow; a scrap of paper drifts out of his pocket and floats over for him to pluck it out of the air.]

I— or perhaps more accurately, our dear friend Agnes— had an idea. Look.

[Read this and come to the immediate obvious conclusion he did, dear.]

[gentlyfell]

[They're hours from potentially dying. The world isn't about to end, but things still look remarkably grim. And yet even so, Crowley finds time to groan softly, because he's comfortable and he's got Aziraphale's fingers in his hair and this is literally all he's ever wanted.

But fine. He rolls over just slightly, squinting up with one yellow eye to read the writing. Agnes couldn't have used a spellchecker, huh, she really just went for it with all those words . . .

It isn't subtle. He can appreciate that, at least. Choose your faces wisely, and there's plenty of metaphoric ways to interpret that, but there's also one very literal one.]

It'll be risky.

[That's not nearly the word for it. Hell finding an angel in their midst would be . . . hm. It doesn't really bear thinking on, actually, and he shifts a little, edging in closer, like maybe sheer body mass might protect Aziraphale from that possibility.]

Heaven won't check. They'll think you did the right thing and turned up for your Divine punishment, no matter what it is. But Hell might just. You ready for that possibility?

[oldsofa]

[Risky is putting it mildly. Crowley presses close again and Aziraphale welcomes it, holding him too tightly for post-coital cuddling but not nearly tight enough to protect him from what they are definitely, surely about to do.]

Technically, getting into a fight in Hell would be the right thing to do, if I were to be discovered. Viewed through a certain lens, that is.

[Ah, but they'll be in so much trouble if they're caught, simply being discorporated and properly executed would pale in comparison.]

Still, I could pretend to be you for an hour or so. I know you. I'm sure I'll do a very good you.

[gentlyfell]

You'd have to get back for it to be viewed at all.

[But that's not the point here. There's no other option but this, both because it's the only solution he can think of and because-- well. Agnes predicted it, and the old witch was right about everything else, wasn't she?

Still. It leaves him anxious, not that he'd ever call it that.]

Try it, then. Go on. We might as well give it a go now.

[oldsofa]

What, right now?

[Like it's not urgent. How can he just pull a Crowley impression out of thin air...]

You're just going to have to trust me, my dear. I'll be sure not to smile too much unless it's inappropriate.

[gentlyfell]

Not just that. I mean--

[U G H this is so wildly inconvenient for him, personally. He sits up on his forearms, staring down at Aziraphale. He screws up his face, but he knows what Aziraphale looks like, he's known it for centuries, so it's easy to just--

--be him, change the hair and eyes and shorter legs and shorter face and just shorter in general, actually, but then it's there, all but perfect. He blinks eyes that aren't his, disliking the odd way they feel.]

[oldsofa]

Oh, yes—

[Yes, he can do that. All it takes is a blink to get a little taller, a little slimmer, darken the hair and do something very strange to his eyes and gaze back at Crowley with his own face.

He frowns.]

Gabriel is going to know it isn't me if you keep making that face, Crowley.

[gentlyfell]

Shall I do an cherubic sort of smile?

[He does, actually, smile, falsely and too largely, something that doesn't suit Aziraphale at all. Also, incidentally, has Crowley teased Aziraphale before by calling him a cherub, yes, he has.]

I'll just-- you know-- bluster. Talk about how I was justified in the Almighty's eyes and so on. It's not as if Gabriel ever looks closely, you know him.

[oldsofa]

Very good, very good. Throw in something about the greater good, he'll appreciate that.

[Here, "appreciate" means "be very, very pissed off about," and isn't that the point? To really let them have it, or at least to really look at them snidely.

Aziraphale tries out his very best detached disapproval face.] How do I look?

[gentlyfell]

[It's very surreal to see himself like this. It's him and not, like watching a mirror that's just gone distorted.]

Try more attitude. You can't just be passive, you've got to-- you know-- really put the demons in their place. Act better than them.

[oldsofa]

[Aziraphale raises an eyebrow - act like a smug piece of work? Oh, he's gifted in this area.]

Taunt them a bit, then? Act like I've places to be after my untimely demise?

[He'll tell them he has a date with some crepes, perhaps.]

You could say just about anything and Gabriel will get cross [ahaha] about it.

[gentlyfell]

Oh, well, I wouldn't want to piss off the world's first prat, would I? I still don't know why he got picked to tell Mary she was knocked up, can you imagine?

[It's probably a bad idea to shittalk your boyfriend's boss when you look like your boyfriend, but it's also not like they can get in more trouble.]

[oldsofa]

[No no, if this is their last night, shittalking Gabriel is a valid part of that.]

I did think of making a polite inquiry, but you know how he gets. It wouldn't have been worth it, but that poor girl. Tried to smooth things over when he'd gone, but, hmm.

[gentlyfell]

What, another nice young man telling you that your sudden virginal pregnancy is perfectly all right isn't comforting?

[Drawled out. Honestly, he's sure Aziraphale was comforting. Far more than Gabriel. He sits up, and it must be very odd, seeing Aziraphale's form lying back languidly in that way Crowley has, all flash bastard even in bed.]

At least he got kicked upstairs after that.

[oldsofa]

I did what I could, Crowley.

[Indignant!! He tried, you know. It was a trying time for everyone involved.

Crowley might be wearing his face, but he still slides a hand over to thread their fingers together. Romantic shit talking...]

It was very nice to get some peace and quiet.

[gentlyfell]

[Hm, hello, he likes this, and he squeezes his hand, his thumb brushing against the back of his hand. It's not impossible to maintain this form, but it is an effort-- so good, they're distracting themselves. It's good practice (or something).

Although--]

How often did he hang around you when he was on earth?

[oldsofa]

[Hmm, yes, holding hands is the best plan for distraction. He frowns up at the ceiling, recalling an old, old memory...]

Oh, more than enough. He's always been very, you know— he needs someone to speak at or he gets bent out of shape.

[gentlyfell]

[It's not that he's jealous, because he knows there's nothing to be jealous of. But at the same time, he really doesn't like the thought of Gabriel hanging around Aziraphale, purely on a defensive basis, and also, Gabriel is just . . . gross, he's just so gross, Crowley never liked him even when he was an angel.]

So what did he do, just come around and bother you til you paid him mind?

[crowley that's literally what you did]

[oldsofa]

[Crowley, babe. Darling. Honey. Aziraphale gives him an even look; yes, dear, you did that same thing.]

Something like that, I suppose. I don't think he cared much if I was actually listening, just present...

[gentlyfell]

Huh.

[Well. Well, and he actually looks a great deal like Aziraphale in that moment, huffing softly to himself.]

Right. Good to know.

I'll keep that in mind tomorrow. Oye, what do you think they'll try, anyway? Maybe they'll try to make you Fall . . .

[But it's Crowley, who has already Fallen, so it's fine.]

[oldsofa]

[Oh. Look at him... that's kind of cute, but only because he's imagining Crowley's face instead.]

Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty of Hellfire. That shouldn't be half as bad as the posturing, though.

[gentlyfell]

[Agnes had spoken of fire (or fyre), so yes, that's probably accurate. But Hellfire will kill Aziraphale, and yes, that's the fate he expects in Hell, but there's something a little . . . disturbing about hearing Aziraphale acknowledge that so matter-of-factly.

So yeah, there's a moment of shock. He blinks, nods, refocuses.]

Yeah.

Suppose it's back to the fire and brimstone days with them sometimes, then.

[oldsofa]

Most of the time, when it comes to— well, traitors.

[Which is the first time Aziraphale has acknowledged out loud that they are, in fact, traitors. Being on their own side is some kind of dramatically romantic, that's easier, but traitors? Hmm.

Still, he has this odd feeling...]

You know... I think we're going to be alright.

[gentlyfell]

[Traitors, and that's perfectly apt for what they are. But he doesn't mind. He minds very much the thought of Aziraphale down in Hell alone, surrounded by demons who aren't creative, but don't need to be.

He melts away into his proper body, and now the worry is evident in his gaze, the quiet way he squirms in closer.]

Tell me that again when you return. Yeah?