slimy_crocodile_tears



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    “Finish it out,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Go on. Ask it.”

    Nolan shifts in his seat. “Are or are you not attracted, at the very least, to Wilson?”

    House knocks his forehead against his cane. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

    [In which Nolan pulls at the Wilson thread, and House can't stop it all from unraveling. Repression is a hell of a drug.]

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    22 Jul 2026

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    House subtly seduces Wilson. Somehow.

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    21 Jul 2026

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    “D’you realize,” [Crowley] said, “that we never tire of things humans get bored with on the regular?”

    Aziraphale shrugged, lazily basking. “I’ve always assumed it’s that we don’t tire of each other.”

    [#75 was added on 14 February 2019; this story ran from 10/1/05 - 2/14/19. My love to GO fandom, always.]

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    18 Jul 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 43

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    Attached at the hip through university, Crowley and Aziraphale parted ways at the end of their studies with all kinds of good intentions. They were going to keep in touch, stay friends and, if they were lucky, perhaps life would lead their paths back together again. Perhaps there was a future past goodbye.

    Fate had other plans. It's been nineteen years since they saw each other, and they've gone through life separately. Maybe not quite in the way they intended, maybe not in the way they planned, but they've made it this far. But now the date of their promise is coming up.

    The date they swore that, if they were still single, they would meet once more and marry. Ridiculous, of course, since they're both 40-year-old men now, and haven't seen each other in almost two decades. It was a foolish oath made by young optimists, and not the reality of now.

    Which didn't explain why Crowley was sat waiting in a bar, and it certainly didn't explain why he had just seen Aziraphale walk through the door.

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    01 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark 9

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    This was big. Bigger than giving away a sword. Bigger than lying to an archangel. Bigger than thwarting the Apocalypse. Because all those times he’d had someone beside him. Someone to give him reassurance and strength.
    “You’re up to something. I can smell it.”
    A voice, unmistakable, just over his left shoulder.
    It wasn’t Crowley – it couldn’t be.
    Aziraphale kept his eyes forward.
    “I hope you know what you’re doing, Angel,” the voice drawled in his ear.

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    30 Jun 2026