IUsedToBeGifted177



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    Crowley has proven himself to be unpunishable by traditional means, so Hell has to get creative.

    And what better way to drive a wedge between the traitor and his precious angel than to make sure that Aziraphale never wants to go near him again?

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    08 Feb 2026

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    “Are you cold?” He croaks out, because he can’t think of anything else to say.
    “Oh, terribly,” Aziraphale moans, and Crowley feels his traitorous arm move of its own accord, circling the angel’s shoulders and pulling him close.
    Aziraphale makes a pleased little noise at the touch and Crowley almost chokes on his own spit.
    Very slowly, and as softly as he can manage, he says, “I need to know what’s going on, angel.”
    Aziraphale, curled up against his chest, nods. “It’s my punishment,” he replies, his voice small and quiet, barely a breath.

    🐝

    Aziraphale's punishment strips him of his powers and makes him particularly willing to cuddle with a demon who's been in love with him for a few thousand years.

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    18 Dec 2025

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    “Crowley.”

    “Angel.”

    “What's wrong?”

    Crowley fidgets. “You can be really annoying sometimes, you know that." Aziraphale holds his silence. “I’m not… hurt.”

    “But you,” Aziraphale starts, then bites his lip. “You keep… flinching. Is it—has it always…?”

    “What?” Crowley’s face is really so lovingly expressive. “No! No, you—you’re fine. It’s me.”

    “Crowley,” Aziraphale says, exasperated, “explain.”

    “I, er, drank some poison. On accident.”

    “Oh! You should have told me earlier! What is it—do you need—“

    “Aziraphale. I’m not dying. But I,” and he swallows, and falls silent again.

    “Would you like me to guess?”

    “No! How would that be helpful? No.”

    “Well what is it then?”

    Crowley grumbles something. Aziraphale is quickly coming to the end of his very, very long, almost endless patience—he steps forward and grabs Crowley’s wrist and Crowley makes a noise.

    It all goes very still. Aziraphale stays frozen in place, staring at Crowley with wide eyes.

    “Are you,” he starts.

    “You’re not hurting me,” Crowley mumbles, his face in his hands. Aziraphale makes an inquisitive noise. “I said, you’re not hurting me.”

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    17 Dec 2025

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Rumi was born with her mark.

     

    It's nothing odd; most people are. It just means she's younger than her soulmate - that they're out there, somewhere, and she doesn't have to wait to see what it says. It means that someone in the world was born without the words on their wrist - nothing special, either.

     

    It means she came into this world with someone waiting on her.

     

    And to Rumi, that makes all the difference.

     

    Or: Rumi knows her soulmate could never love someone as monstrous as her.

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    01 Aug 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 67

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    Crowley died. Sort of. It didn’t stick.
    Now he’s back - not a demon, not a human, just... mostly undead, vaguely unlabelled, and maybe in love with an angel he’s never seen before in his life. Or has he?

    Aziraphale is finally done pretending he doesn’t remember. Or want. Or care. Turns out, 6,000 years of repressed affection, divine bureaucracy, and one very snarky bastard who keeps returning can wear a principality down.

    They were always going to find each other again.
    Maybe this time they get it right.

    This is a story about breaking the cycle. About memory, desire, undead metaphysics, jealousy, fate, and a love that refuses to stay buried.

    Also: titans, kissing, drag queens, glam rock, a bench in Berkeley Square, a cat, always London.
    And a neon sign that says exactly what you think it does.

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    18 Jul 2025