this is the book i never read. these are the words i never said. this is the path i'll never tread. these are the dreams i'll dream instead. this is the joy that's seldom spread. these are the tears, the tears we shed. this is the fear, this is the dread, these are the contents of my head.
"Walking away from anything that doesn’t honour who we are is not failure. It doesn’t mean we lack commitment. Walking away shows the greatest commitment of all. To ourselves. To our truth. To me that sounds nothing like failure, and everything like success." - Julie Harper
fucking incredible art by @chernozemm (full on ao3)
flawless (E) (35k) (1/5)
When Crowley had snaked himself across the bar top, half purring, half snarling for Aziraphale to live a little, this wasn’t exactly what he meant by it. Not exclusively, anyway. If there was a list of possibilities, it may have been on there somewhere; scrawled as a hasty afterthought, perhaps under a subheading of Things That Would Surely Never Actually Happen.
But the sight of Aziraphale lying naked and debauched in the middle of his black satin sheets was not something he was about to hesitate over.
(If there was a second list, one surreptitiously scribbled on a napkin in the dark corner of a crowded bar, it would be titled Things Crowley Had No Right To Crave As Much As He Did, and it would start and end with this single bullet point)