|| Open rp ||

Crowley wanted to die, he hated his life now after he had fallen for asking to many questions, he doesn’t really remember much of it though because it just hurt too. Since he’s fallen, he was brought back to heaven and kept there as a prisoner. It physically pained him to touch consecrated grounds and items so he tried to stay in the bed that was in his cell as much as he could but they didn’t allow that. Sometimes they would take his bed to torture and the cuffs never left his wrists, sometimes they would add chains.

They continually mocked him, especially Gabriel and they loved to cause him pain, diluted holy water, burning sage, and if they were especially cruel then they would mess with his wings and he hated that, he tried to pull them in to protect but it didn’t always work. They would hit him, using their daggers on him and pour stuff in the wounds. They continuously mocked his snake eyes that he would not let anyone see for fear of that same thing. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he had ate anything either, not that he really needed to eat anyway.

They decided to drag him from his cell and humiliate him, tugging on his wings, saying don’t you wish to know who you really are, along with laughing at him for being so weak and pathetic, kicking at him and tugging on his hair. He screamed as he felt a slice on his wings “No, please, don’t touch them” he tried to pull them in but he couldn’t.

Open starter

Crowley hadn't really intended to stay in the bookshop after---well, everything. But hell's finance department had seen no reason to continue paying for the flat now that Shax had left it, and he was beyond sick of living in his car.

And maybe some part of him secretly hoped the angel, his angel, would come back.

Which is why he was currently draped over one of the chairs in the back of the bookshop, long legs dangling over one of the arms, face buried in the back of the seat, breathing in traces of a familiar cologne. He didn't have to look to know someone was standing in the doorway, he could feel their presence. Damn. Muriel must have unlocked the door.

"Go away," he growled, not bothering to look at whoever it was. "We're closed."

📚Open Starter📚

-For Crowley-

"I-I-I" the words stuttered from Aziraphale's mouth as he opened and closed he was trying hard to understand what was happening.

After what seemed like an hour words formed into a whisper, "Do it again."

@walstarterblog​

somewhere along the way coffee had become a necessary evil.  probably the angel’s fault all that time spent going to bakeries or lunch causing them to order a drink just to keep up appearances.  here they were in life for coffee when they could feel someone staring at them.  they knew the sunglasses inside weren’t exactly normal but they were a necessity.  they’d only stand out more if they removed them and they very much did not want to answer questions about their eyes.  “didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to stare?” they questioned turning to face the individual.

“ the king is dead. long, live the queen. ”

"I think I might just...go. To the stars. Small trip. Back in a blink, but...it'd be nice to be among them again." No longer being tied to Hell, he could indulge in more nice things, right?

open starter for all perhaps somebody supernatural, or a mortal who is aware, canon g.o. characters or ocs very welcome

"You realise I really am the last person you should be asking for a favour, right? Between me and a wily genie, I'd find an ancient lamp to rub, take the three wishes and the ironic yet suitably funny consequences." The demon flipped back up his newspaper, not quite reading as his awaited the other to simply leave.

In a different ending, Hastur learns of Aziraphale and Crowley's friendship, then decides to set Aziraphale's bookstore on fire.

Hellfire.

✘ tag dump pt . i

she doesn't know if it's the full moon's doing, but talia feels a bit more energized than normal. it could also do with the fact that she just snorted a handful of grave dust, high off idea of sustenance.

leaning back against one of the tombstones, she raises her finger in the air, sounds coming from her cellphone speakers as she listens to a heavy mix of metal and pop music. across from her are three corpses, recently buried.

( and then subsequently unburied ).

the rotting hasn't begun yet, so they're relatively fresh, and they're currently performing a musical number to the song of talia's choice. something about being able to control the dead would probably be a heavy subject for most, but talia uses it for purposes that aren't exactly 'conventional' by any means. her mother uses her abilities to command corpses to clean the house, for christ's sake.

but then she hears the sound of footsteps, a tilt of the head causing her to glance over in that direction. finding her voice, she shouts.

"you here for the show?"

Crowley - open starter - for Aziraphale

What a week. Actually, that was probably the understatement of the century and then some. Several frantic days spent trying to avert the apocalypse, including a few too-many brushes with destruction for Crowley's taste. Somehow they had survived...not just himself and Aziraphale, but everyone, everything on Earth. The pair of celestials had celebrated with (what else?) an extravagant dinner at the Ritz, and then Crowley had driven Aziraphale back to the newly-restored bookshop. It was the first time Aziraphale had returned to it since it had burned down, and Crowley wasted absolutely no time settling in to watch the angel flit about, lovingly running his fingers over every tome, checking to ensure everything was, indeed, in its place, beaming like the sun all the while.

That blessed smile....Crowley could hardly bear to think about how close he had come to losing it forever.

Three times. Three times in the last few days, Crowley had nearly lost Aziraphale. First, when he had been discorporated; Crowley could live another six thousand years and remember with perfect clarity the feeling when he realized he couldn't feel the angel's presence anywhere on Earth. The second time was in Tadfield, at the airbase, with the ground rumbling beneath their feet. Crowley didn't like feeling indebted to anyone, but he really did owe Adam for saving their skin. Had he not used his power over reality, Satan would have destroyed them all then and there, Crowley was certain of it. And thirdly was when Heaven itself attempted to destroy the angel for daring to defy them.

Three times he'd almost lost his best friend. His only friend. His angel. The one he....

Well. Maybe that was why he felt the need to speak up. The wine was probably playing a part in driving his actions as well, but only insofar as it was ebbing some of his nerves.

"Angel..." he broke the comfortable silence that had been hanging between them for the past fifteen minutes or so, and then decided to start again. Properly.

"Aziraphale. Can I---I need to tell you something."

~ Open Starter ~ <anyone>

"I was wrong" a shaking voice left the angel's mouth. "I never should have ever believed in his promises"

OPEN STARTER ;; Tallulah Crowley

"I'm not sure I can trust someone who doesn't immediately start singing along when they hear Bohemian Rhapsody," Tallulah mused. "They're either a bloody psychopath, or just have no taste for good music, and either way, that is not someone that I want to associate with."

open to: anyone. | @indiestarter. muse: crowley. welcome to crossovers. season 2 spoilers welcome!

“ can't you see that i'm quite busy getting friendly with this lovely bottle of wine? buggar off. ”

Open to Anyone

He'd turn in his sleep which caused him to bolt awake in pain. Being drunk only dulled the pain a bit. Maybe if it were anything else he'd already be healed or could easily ignore it. By some miracle he can't just dismiss as stupid luck, he managed to escape the hunters that held him prisoner for however long they had him...but not whole.

On instinct he wanted to spread his wings...they ached like a phantom limb is said to. Almost as if they were there...but they weren't anymore.

He wouldn't leave his current place unless he absolutely had to. Being out of alcohol meant that he had to.

Not wanting anyone to see his wounds that he couldn't glamor or make disappear at the moment, but not bearing to wear much over them, he only donned on a blazer before heading out to the closest pub. He'd stop by a liquor store on the way back but first he needed a drink or five.

Staggering more than his usual strutting, he made it into a bar and sat at the first empty table he saw. He didn't care how many it was supposed to sit, it was his now. When his order was taken he said, "Bring me a bottle of whiskey."

"Welcome to Fell's bookshop. My dad's not here and he never taught me how to use the register, so whatever book you came to get, you can't have. Not that he'd sell it to you if he were here."

It wasn't exactly rare of him to be left to manage the bookshop while his dads went on errands or dates. Lately though, it's been happening more frequently and though he didn't mind it...some of his abilities were coming to light and Jay was struggling to decide if and when would be a good time to alert his family that...the Second Coming was potentially upon us. Schrödinger's Jesus 2.0 wasn't the best mentality to deal with customers, so he hoped he put enough of his Crowley's demonic rudeness into the delivery.

"Try again on Wednesdays. Better yet, try the cafe across the street. The Eccles cakes? Amazing!"