Argenti who believes you (player) are Idrila… the being who’d saved him countless of times, the one who protects him in times of peril. The reason he only meets you in near death situation is due to how the universe works, determined to only let you meet those who adore you once they’re at their weakest and need your help to return to their true form. Every time a new soul comes to you, arriving at the Express’ doors, you welcome them and work tirelessly to give them strength unattainable through other means.
Albeit not knowing how you truly look like, he can see your silhouette in his mind’s eye. He knows the broad brush strokes that compose your face, even your eye color and hair texture immortalized in his memory. He knows deep down that there will never be any being that can rival the beauty of his Lord.
Argenti, who once finally home with you, can finally rest easy knowing that you are with him – watching over him and giving him strength in your own way. However, he still cannot touch you, he hasn’t been able to clearly see your face yet. His journey isn’t done, now he must find a way to bring you to him so he can spread the word of your arrival and power while adoring you in his arms.
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Sickfic Recs
I'm down for the count with Covid after avoiding it for three years, and thus have been reading/rereading some sickfics that have brought me comfort. I figured while I was at it, I may as well make a list of a few of my favorites, in case anyone else was in need of the same!
In no particular order:
1. A Tree of Life by aknightofthe7kingdoms
Summary:
Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Proverbs 13:12
Crowley was certain that he wasn’t ill. He just wasn’t feeling...quite well.
2. La Grippe by LadyWallace
Summary: Aziraphale had watched it take too many lives already, he wasn't going to let it take his friend too. It was lucky then that he just happened to stumble across that deserted barn somewhere in the green fields of France. Sick!Crowley Historical backstory
3. Helped By Angels Unawares by Sodium_Azide
Summary: In the late middle ages, Aziraphale stumbles across a human tragedy that has somehow also affected his demonic adversary, and abruptly understands much more about what he is willing to do for the sake of the Serpent of Eden.
4. Fever Dreams by Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)
Summary:
Angels don’t get sick.
They can, however, burn through enough of their grace that their corporations begin to malfunction.
This happens to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.
Aziraphale gets a fever and Crowley takes care of him!
5. A Matter of Opportunity by PinkPenguinParade
Summary:
The pain danced sharp and angry, lit up ragged nerves. Pulled him on, toward that fuzzy promise of rest. Fifteen feet, maybe? He could do fifteen feet. Could do fifteen feet standing on his head, right?Seven feet.
Four.
He reached out for the door and slapped it once, twice, the wood pulsing against his skinned hands.
6. Such Selfish Prayers by spargelseason
Summary:
Crowley, while still apparently comatose, had somehow managed to wrap himself so thoroughly around Aziraphale on their way up, that any attempt at dropping him onto the mattress without being pulled down as well proved futile.
And hence, quite defeated, Aziraphale found himself lying in a warm tangle of Crowley and blankets. He felt a little stunned.
7. The Words We Say by QixxiQ
Summary: Aziraphale calls Crowley a plague rat one time and it kinda messes him up for roughly 300 years.
8. In Sickness And In Hell by entanglednow
Summary: Crowley picks up something unpleasant while mingling in Hell, and is determined that Aziraphale not see him while he's sick.
9. Temper by TeaCub90
Summary:
‘Angel, I told you not to fuss,’ Crowley croaks, somewhere underneath the blankets – and then he emerges, all tousled hair and black vest, looking both three shades paler than usual and more than a little annoyed at the absolute audacity of the angel for bringing him a hot drink.
‘It’s no bother,’ Aziraphale bats away his irritation, ‘this should be better for you, especially after you threw the Lemsip at the wall. And the hot Ribena.’
10. And In Health by Kalimyre
Summary:
One of the many ways Hell is awful is the demon flu that is always going around the office. Crowley comes down with it, and this time he allows Aziraphale to help.
Indulgent, soft fluffy fic, because Crowley deserves to be taken care of sometimes.
+1 Bonus self rec (cause I'm learning how to get better at doing that)
Our Side by theshoparoundthecorner
Summary:
Aziraphale gets sick. He doesn't know how, and it really shouldn't be possible, but he does and unfortunately there's nothing he can do about it. When he decides he has to cancel his plans to see Crowley, Crowley insists he come over to the bookshop with soup. When he arrives, he looks worse than Aziraphale.
Cue a mysteriously sick Angel and a mysteriously sick Demon, taking care of each other in a London Soho bookshop, drinking tea, eating soup, and having an oddly easy time of it.
Well, at least for the first forty-five minutes.
In which Crowley and Aziraphale see each other at their worst, love each other for it all the more, and learn that being on your own side isn't so bad after all.
Those ten are just a few of my favorites, and I have more that I've been reading and bookmarking, so I might do a second rec soon! Meanwhile, if anyone else has any good omens sickfic recs they want to make (or self recs!!), feel free to do so in the reblogs or comments!
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for the prompts: will you just sit still?
“I need to make sure the kids are okay—” she pants, doing her best to shove aside the pain that spikes through her body as she tries, for the third time, to look over her shoulder.
Also for the third time, Fred sighs. “They’re fine,” he assures, threads of exasperation weaving in at the fringes of his voice. “I can see them. Will you just sit still?”
“Ash took a direct hit from the—”
“Veta.” Huge hands—hastily stripped of their armor and now stained crimson—clamp firmly, but gently, against either side of her face, keeping her anchored. “The kids are fine,” he repeats. Slower. Softer. “Trust me, they’ve been through a lot worse. You can check on them after I get this shrapnel out of you. Stop moving.” A slow second crawls by. She’s reminded—again—how much Fred’s eyes look like the ocean. “...please.”
Her instinct to nod is overridden by the heat radiating from his hands, still pressed tight right below her cheekbones. If this were anyone else, she’d feel threatened. Cornered. She doesn’t.
She breaks the settled silence a few moments after he’s finally released her and resumed his first-aid. “...you called me Veta.”
He doesn’t look up. “Trying to get your attention.”
She hums; a neutral non-answer. His hands had left echoes of warmth behind her jaw—smears of her own blood, too, but amidst the sting of injuries and biofoam, it’s doing her more good to focus on the former. “......you called them kids.”
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