Book title ficlets (A/C)
Having nicked the idea of the book title ficlet prompt meme from it_grrl below...I bring these...
Title: Agents Of Light And Darkness
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 121
--
They moved in a world of definites. Black and white, good and evil. Doctrine set in stone. Literally.
But six thousand years is a long time in anyone's Book. Time for the edges to - if not blur, then at least soften, slightly.
Crowley beheld the shadow of the angel's wings, and the darkness of his anger, at the world and its cruelties. Unleashed, an angel's rage is a terrible, consuming thing.
Aziraphale watched the demon, watching him. Beheld the love that burned so brightly within him, the love Crowley kept hidden from all but him.
And when the fit fell finally from him, it was Crowley's arms waiting to hold him. And the light, and the dark, blurred into one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Title: Thrones, Dominations
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley (sort of)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 549
--
Technically Aziraphale was a Principality*, but people made jokes about that these days. [Good Omens]
~*~
It had been a particularly good lunch, and Aziraphale was musing more on the memory of the delicate salmon mousse that taking much notice of his surroundings. He therefore reached the Bentley before noticing that Crowley was no longer at his side.
Looking round in confusion, he realised the demon had stopped in the middle of the pavement, and was staring skywards with his mouth hanging open.
Aziraphale looked up.
Above the rooftops, great wheels of fire** were spinning in an intricate pattern, sparks raining down upon the oblivious crowds below. He noticed that whenever a spark hit someone, they immediately looked like a metaphorical lightbulb had gone off in their heads, and started moving more purposefully. Mostly towards arts and craft shops. Some were actually singing.
He winced.
"What are They doing here out in the open?" he grumbled.
"Well it's not like anyone else can see them," Crowley said, leaping suddenly sideways to avoid a shower of inspiration.
"But Thrones? It never does anyone any good to be that close to pure creative impulses. I mean, it's not as if they're giving out talent with it," fumed Aziraphale, getting into his stride. "All it does is produce a swathe of sudden bizarre hobbies that result in deformed toby jugs littering the shelves of charity shops nation wide. It's 1983 all over again."***
Crowley smirked. It always amused him when the angel started complaining about Upstairs, because eventually he'd remember who he was talking to and look embarrassed.
"Let's get out of here, before I develop the urge to take up basket weaving," he called, and they ran for the car, whereupon Crowley proceeded to display his own particular creative flair in choice epithets for the people that got in his way.
They drew up a little way from the bookshop, and eyed the figure standing impatiently outside the door.
"Is that what I think it is?" said Crowley, uneasily.
"A Domination,"**** agreed Aziraphale. "Oh fffff....." he spluttered. "Iddlesticks."
"Uck." said Crowley.
"Thanks."
Crowley grinned. "I think I'll be off if you don't mind. Wouldn't want to get you a detention for consorting with demons."
Aziraphale sighed. It had been rather much to hope that Crowley would come in with him, under the disapproving glare of what was essentially God's most self-important milk monitor.
"I've never consorted in my life," he declared instead, climbing out primly.
Crowley waiting till he'd closed the door before murmuring "Maybe you should. Bit of consorting, do you good." He pushed the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, and slammed back into the traffic.
----
* A protector and regulator of earthly boundaries, also charged with the preservation of religion. As opposed to, eg, Monaco. Aziraphale had a finely honed glare he reserved especially for anyone making Prince Albert jokes.
** Thrones express God's Divine Will via constantly flowing waves of creativity and appear as a fiery wheel with four faces.
*** When a badly judged emanation resulted in the entire Borough of Hammersmith taking up rag rugging.
**** The Dominations regulate the duties of angels. A Domination can generally be identified by its permanent look of disapproval, and the clipboard it will be holding.
--
Title: Agents Of Light And Darkness
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 121
--
They moved in a world of definites. Black and white, good and evil. Doctrine set in stone. Literally.
But six thousand years is a long time in anyone's Book. Time for the edges to - if not blur, then at least soften, slightly.
Crowley beheld the shadow of the angel's wings, and the darkness of his anger, at the world and its cruelties. Unleashed, an angel's rage is a terrible, consuming thing.
Aziraphale watched the demon, watching him. Beheld the love that burned so brightly within him, the love Crowley kept hidden from all but him.
And when the fit fell finally from him, it was Crowley's arms waiting to hold him. And the light, and the dark, blurred into one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Title: Thrones, Dominations
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley (sort of)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 549
--
Technically Aziraphale was a Principality*, but people made jokes about that these days. [Good Omens]
~*~
It had been a particularly good lunch, and Aziraphale was musing more on the memory of the delicate salmon mousse that taking much notice of his surroundings. He therefore reached the Bentley before noticing that Crowley was no longer at his side.
Looking round in confusion, he realised the demon had stopped in the middle of the pavement, and was staring skywards with his mouth hanging open.
Aziraphale looked up.
Above the rooftops, great wheels of fire** were spinning in an intricate pattern, sparks raining down upon the oblivious crowds below. He noticed that whenever a spark hit someone, they immediately looked like a metaphorical lightbulb had gone off in their heads, and started moving more purposefully. Mostly towards arts and craft shops. Some were actually singing.
He winced.
"What are They doing here out in the open?" he grumbled.
"Well it's not like anyone else can see them," Crowley said, leaping suddenly sideways to avoid a shower of inspiration.
"But Thrones? It never does anyone any good to be that close to pure creative impulses. I mean, it's not as if they're giving out talent with it," fumed Aziraphale, getting into his stride. "All it does is produce a swathe of sudden bizarre hobbies that result in deformed toby jugs littering the shelves of charity shops nation wide. It's 1983 all over again."***
Crowley smirked. It always amused him when the angel started complaining about Upstairs, because eventually he'd remember who he was talking to and look embarrassed.
"Let's get out of here, before I develop the urge to take up basket weaving," he called, and they ran for the car, whereupon Crowley proceeded to display his own particular creative flair in choice epithets for the people that got in his way.
They drew up a little way from the bookshop, and eyed the figure standing impatiently outside the door.
"Is that what I think it is?" said Crowley, uneasily.
"A Domination,"**** agreed Aziraphale. "Oh fffff....." he spluttered. "Iddlesticks."
"Uck." said Crowley.
"Thanks."
Crowley grinned. "I think I'll be off if you don't mind. Wouldn't want to get you a detention for consorting with demons."
Aziraphale sighed. It had been rather much to hope that Crowley would come in with him, under the disapproving glare of what was essentially God's most self-important milk monitor.
"I've never consorted in my life," he declared instead, climbing out primly.
Crowley waiting till he'd closed the door before murmuring "Maybe you should. Bit of consorting, do you good." He pushed the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose, and slammed back into the traffic.
----
* A protector and regulator of earthly boundaries, also charged with the preservation of religion. As opposed to, eg, Monaco. Aziraphale had a finely honed glare he reserved especially for anyone making Prince Albert jokes.
** Thrones express God's Divine Will via constantly flowing waves of creativity and appear as a fiery wheel with four faces.
*** When a badly judged emanation resulted in the entire Borough of Hammersmith taking up rag rugging.
**** The Dominations regulate the duties of angels. A Domination can generally be identified by its permanent look of disapproval, and the clipboard it will be holding.
--