Isilzha



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    “And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t,” Crowley’s voice cracked.

    There was a forceful, anxious kick in Aziraphale’s chest. Oh, God, he was actually going to talk about it. Neither of them dared to for 6,000 years.

    Crowley tossed his head to the side. “I mean…The last few years, not really. And I know why we’ve had to pretend, of course. That’s obvious.” His eyes lowered to the floor. “Can’t ever forget about that, can I?” he said under his breath.
    ~~
    After being punished in Heaven for being in love as angels, Aziraphale and Crowley spend the next 6,000 years pretending their relationship never happened.

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    02 Sep 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley was still as stone beside him. His ears were cherry-red. “So...if we pretend we’re in a relationship, we’ll be safe.”

    “I believe so.”

    “And that would, that would involve, what?” he spoke hesitantly, softly. “Holding your hand, telling you that you mean a lot to me, kissing you for them to see?”

    Two great hands were constricting Aziraphale’s lungs. He fought back an undignified wheeze. “Yes, I think so.”

    “I can do that,” he croaked.
    ~
    In a panic, Aziraphale tells the archangels he survived hellfire due to his soul mixing with Crowley's because they're in a romantic and sexual relationship. They want him to prove it. Cue a fake relationship.

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    31 Aug 2025

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Aziraphale saw him sometimes in all-staff meetings, sitting toward the front but off to the side, lounging against a wall. Even then, he’d had style—wings tipped in gold and face painted with gold flakes in the pattern of the first constellation he designed. He was amazing, and eye-catching, and it was no exaggeration to say that he did not know Aziraphale even existed.

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    30 Aug 2025

  4. Public Bookmark 9

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    The Sugar Plum Fairy decides to spare Lapin's life, but what will he do with it? And what realizations come along with freedom?

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    29 Jun 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    sobbing

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    Lapin blinks slowly at Brassica as she steps up to the bars of his cell, the guards splitting around her like so much water over a stone. He inclines his head, trying for regal and probably failing.

    “Heretic.” Her voice grates against his eardrums. “You have awakened.”

    “Zealot. You haven’t killed me.” Lapin replies, dry.

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    26 Jun 2025