the_deep_miracle_perfection



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The Second Coming is imminent. Aziraphale and Crowley, naturally, spend four days and three nights at a motel in Palm Springs dealing with their own issues.

    Language:
    English
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    24,403
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    8/8
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    06 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 31

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    Understanding came slowly, but Aziraphale was certain it had arrived at last. “It feels," he said, "like you’re defiling me. Is that it?” It was. Yet there was more. “And you can’t bring yourself to do it.”

    Crowley almost could not even bring himself to say it. Finally he did. “Yes.”

    It was one of the most outrageous things he had ever said. “That’s ridiculous.”

    “Trust me,” said Crowley, “I’m aware.”

    Language:
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    01 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "Crowley, this is a disaster. This is everything I ever wanted. We’re in love. And there’s a picnic. And we don’t seem to be able to get…amorous without causing earthquakes.”

    Aziraphale attempts subterfuge. Crowley sees right through him.

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    11,014
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    1/1
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    29 May 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Aziraphale?” He prompted as he fiddled with the seal of the bottle, tugging at the stubborn cork. His sharp fangs came down to worry at his bottom lip. “Your idea?”

    “I’ll get to it in a minute.” Aziraphale looked practically disheveled, and beautiful, and despite everything that happened, he looked perfectly, utterly, calm. “I was hoping to talk about us.”

    The cork gave, and Crowley hit himself in the face.

    Crowley’s venom is a truth serum, one he has used on himself for centuries, dosing himself in private to admit to his own carefully buried feelings— but accidents happen, and Crowley bites himself the night after the Apocalypse.

    There are a thousand and one ways to say I love you, and consent is a part of every single one.

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    28 May 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Post-season 2, post-second coming. Hurt/comfort, love confessions, first times, a journey to hell; Aziraphale rescues Crowley for once.

    It wasn’t until late that evening that Aziraphale found the note left for him in the backroom, scrawled in a spiky script that he recognized at once.

    Come find me, said the note, and then followed a sigil that burned fire-bright and hot when Aziraphale pressed his thumb to it. It was Crowley’s true name in the original alphabet from which all other alphabets descended. Aziraphale had never seen it before, but he recognized it at once.

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    26 May 2026