PSL's Catch-All

[guardianofeden]

Because hey, I just realized that sometimes people want to do PSL's that aren't attached to memes, right?

If you have a PSL in mind, just ask me or leave a starter here! ٩( ᐛ )و

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[guardianofeden]

The sound of the demon's sobbing was almost enough to make Aziraphale's concern veer off into mild panic, his own anxious nature vibrating inside of him, wanting to fix it, to reach out, hold him until he was calmed, but too afraid to hurt him or scare him any worse then he already was. He stood for a moment, his hands flapping lightly in front of his stomach, as if he could shake the anxiety out of his body through his fingers like some tangible thing, before squeezing the fingers of one hand with the other.

When those unruly wings sagged and draped in a pathetic mess, it was finally too much, and though he still did his best not to touch, he stepped up close enough that if he focused on it enough, he could feel the heat of Crowley's body, close enough that he could drop his voice down lower than a whisper, soft enough that were it not for his demonic hearing, the Crowley behind them wouldn't have been able to hear his words. At the very least, it gave some semblance of privacy.

"Crowley, you're alright. You're safe. Put your wings away, dear boy, I won't touch them again. Please come out of the corner, no one is going to harm you. I won't let them, I promise. You don't have to tell me what's happened if you're not ready, but I would very much like to get you somewhere more comfortable. Is that alright, Crowley?"

Where he was behind them, holding out his hand for the small lizard, the words and the name Aziraphale used for the other demon made it impossible to ignore the unbelievable suspicion that had settled itself into Crowley's brain, and he shook his head, covering his mouth in thoughtful disbelief as the tiny creature climbed up into his hand. He did his best to pretend it wasn't happening, his head twitching to the side with a guttural grunt that wanted to sound nonchalant but sounded much closer to bewildered acknowledgment to trained ears.

"You're demonic, that's all I know." His eyebrows pinched closer together in obvious concern at the sight of the lizard's tears (he may not have known a lot about a lot of animals, but he knew enough about reptiles to know they didn't get tears. He was the exception to the rule, and that was bad enough as it was, thank you very much!) but once she was settled on his shoulder, he shrugged with the other before standing back up and shuffled across the room to the small tea nook and the accompanying liquor cabinet. "Got a better idea, actually. Well. Maybe not an alternative better idea, but an addition. Ngk. Hold on. Just...drinks first, telling after."

Inside the cabinet, he moved bottles around for a few moments before pulling out one of the angel's strongest bottles of scotch, the really good stuff, and reached for a trio of whiskey glasses before closing the cabinet with a bump of his hip and carrying the lot back to the other side of the room. He took a moment to set them on one of the side tables so that he could pour three fingers worth of the amber alcohol. He shuffled over to hold one of them out to Aziraphale, who took it unconsciously before realizing what was in his hand and giving the demon a confused but chastising look and almost seemed about to protest, but Crowley was already shifting around to reach close enough to set a second glass on the shelf just near the other demon's elbow.

"Here. Drink this. Angel's got the good shit."

"No, Crowley, really now, I don't-...is this really...Perhaps that's not the wisest thing right now..."

But he was already walking back to sit next to the table with the bottle, downing his entire drink in one go and pouring another glass and settling in to sip it properly.

"Naw, s'fine. Kid's been through some shit, right? Take it from me, Angel; I were in the state he's in, I'd have gone for the alcohol a long time ago." And with that, he turned his head to look down at the lizard on his shoulder, nodding at her with a jerk of his head. "Now. Alright. I'm sitting. What's going on?"

Which was immediately followed up by him getting a thoughtful look on his face for a moment before holding out the glass in her direction.

"Oh, uh, right...I didn't...shit. You ever had whiskey? Here. Try it. You're not a normal lizard. Should be fine."

[eyesofaserpent]

Crowley slowly calmed with Aziraphale's warm presence. His Aziraphale was long dead, but this one, this one was alive and well and right here. Right here and trying his best to help him. And he wanted so desperately to allow him to do as much. He wanted to tell him everything. Every last little detail he'd been too stubborn to tell his Aziraphale. But even now he held back. It wasn't fair to this Aziraphale to have all his emotions dumped onto his lap. This Aziraphale wasn't responsible for forgiving him of his regrets. This Aziraphale couldn't change the past. And he wouldn't be the fool to ask him to.

It took him a moment to gather himself together enough to winch in his wings, but he did so, eventually. Well, about in time for the other... Crowley... to set the glass of scotch on the shelf near him. He looked up briefly, his yellow serpentine eyes meeting their reflection in his ginger version's sunglasses, before ducking his head back down to look at the offered glass. Aziraphale was protesting because of course he was. But even Antia knew better than to suggest he not. He took the glass in his trembling hand and looked at it for a long moment before he knocked it back.

He would have agreed it was the good stuff had he taken any time to savor it. As it was, it burned all the way down and warmed him from the inside. The soothing familiarity of the sensation grounded him. brought him back to the present. Held the ghosts of his past at bay if even for a moment. At least long enough for him to turn around and pitch forward against the angel's chest, drinking in his presence and just... Appreciating that he was alive.

Well, that is before he mustered up the courage to say in a raw whisper, "It's not... It's not my blood. It's... It's Aziraphale's."

Antia sniffed and stared at Crowley as he awkwardly offered her the whiskey before shaking her head. "Thanksss, but you should keep it for yourself."

She thought for a long moment, trying to decide just how much she should say. Surely some of it they had already figured out. Some Crowley had already told Aziraphale. Still, she wanted to talk loud enough so that Aziraphale could catch or confirm any details he hadn't yet. She took a long, unnecessary breath and began.

"Crowley we are, for lack of a better way to describe it, your double. We come from a world where every being with a soul manifests that soul outside their body in an animal shape, a daemon. I'm that for Crowley. I'm sure you've already figured it out, but this is why you have to be careful with me. Were something to happen... Were I to be separated, or worse, destroyed... Well, he wouldn't be Crowley anymore. He would be but a husk. A soulless, living corpse. And you don't just go around touching other being's daemons. I'm only granting you this liberty because of who you are and because you just don't know any better."

Crowley's breath hitched and he clung tightly around Aziraphale's waist, knowing full well what Antia was about to talk about. Not that he could, or would, stop her.

"That out of the way, our world had our apocalypse. It was messy. It was brutal. There aren't many on either side left. The Earth was reduced to a lifeless ball of rubble where once there were buildings and blood where bodies of water used to be. The sun was extinguished. Before it got that far, however, we tried to negotiate a truce. We didn't think it would go the way he wanted. We knew something bad would happen. Tried to talk him out of it. Even Zaphira thought it was a bad idea, but he wouldn't even listen to his own daemon. He had to try. Well, sure enough our suspicions were correct. Michael ran Aziraphale through with his flaming sword right in front of us and there was nothing we could do. We knew we had to run and hide and survive as soon as Zaphira faded away."

Antia paused, looking at the Crowley whose shoulder she was perched on. "That was thirty years ago, we think. Bit hard to tell the progression of time with no sun. 'Sss gonna take a bit for us to adjust to there being so much light again." And then she looked over at Aziraphale. "Haven't seen his wings since that day. Bit of a shock the blood's still there."

[guardianofeden]

There was a small moment of relief as Aziraphale watched Crowley's wings hitch back into the ether, and though he protested to the thought of him having the alcohol when he was already in a compromised state, he simply clicked his tongue and sighed as he watched him down the entire glass as if it were necessary for his survival. Well, he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised, anyway. He was self-aware enough to admit that the two of them might probably have been considered "high-functioning alcoholics" at the best of times, if they'd been human. And he had seen the way Crowley dealt with trauma, in those few times the demon had let him find him when he was having a bad spell. It hard hardly mattered, until now; they weren't human. It had little chance of harming them and they could simply be rid of the effects of it if they so needed to. Still, it seemed a bit ill-advised to start pouring a mood-depressant into the mouth of an already obviously-distressed Crowley.

But then all of his consternation at the drink was shaken out of him when the demon immediately fell against him, and he reached up in surprise to wrap his arms around his shoulders, heedless of the way it caused him to spill a good half of his own drink onto the floor as he held him steady in momentary worry that he had collapsed instead of simply turning to Aziraphale for comfort. It was so strange, so new, and yet such a twisted mirror of something he'd secretly wanted for so long, that the moment he realized just what had happened, he found his own breath catching in his throat as he held onto him more tightly.

And those whispered, pained words didn't help quell the struggle within him. It wasn't necessarily the surprise or relief of learning that the blood wasn't Crowley's, nor of learning who's it was. In fact, he found himself far less surprised to hear that it was the blood of another Aziraphale than he might have imagined. After all, if there were two Crowleys, that only stood to reason that there would be two of him, as well. But the implications of what those words implied-...

Behind him, the red-haired demon shrugged at the lizard's refusal of the drink and was halfway to bringing the glass back up to his mouth before those whispered words registered in his mind, and he froze, staring, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. When the small voice continued so close to his ear, he glanced anxiously between her and the two forms standing nearby, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. The blood-...Angel-...! But the lizard-...his head continued to glance back and forth as if on a swivel, the glass lowering to the table as his other hand reached up to cup around where she sat at glacial speed as if suddenly worried about her falling off and harming herself but too dumbstruck to know what to do with the things he was hearing.

She hadn't even finished her explanation before he realized he very much did not want to hear another word, did not want the images they caused to fill his mind. Because he could imagine it, all of it, found that it was far, far too close to the things he'd imagined only days before when he stood in the middle of a burning bookshop, when he drove away in a state of numb horror and found himself trying to drink away the mental images in the middle of a bar.

It wasn't often that Crowley let himself get drunk to feel physically ill. After the first time millennia ago, he was much more mindful, being careful to rid himself of the alcohol before he reached such a disgusting, painful state. He felt it, now, not even a full glass into his drink, and he swallowed hard against the sour taste in his mouth, grinding his teeth against the sudden burning behind his eyes. He didn't know where to let his eyes rest, beginning to sway slowly in the way he did when he felt threatened and anxious. No, he refused to think about it. He couldn't. This wasn't happening. He brought the drink up and downed it in one gulp, an almost mirror image of the other demon only moments before. But at least he had the bottle, and when the glass was empty, he put it down on the table, picked up the whiskey, and poured the amber liquid clear to the top before downing it again.

Aziraphale's gaze turned to watch him as he looked up at Antia now that he'd kicked the start of his increasing blood/alcohol levels into high gear and reached up slowly to hold his hand out for her to climb onto again.

"Come on. 'Sss too...too high up there. Don't need to be ssso tenuo-...per-...pruh-...ngk. Nuh-...On the table, 's-sssafer..."

Aziraphale sighed softly, his face pinching at the clenching feeling inside of his chest, but he directed his attention away and up around them, taking in the lights of the bookshop before reaching up to snap, the shades drawing and the lights dimming around them until they were in barely more than what might have been the light of a single candle, even the massive domed window above them darkening miraculously without even the need of curtains or blinds.

"We'll keep the lights down low, then, until you're more acclimated to them." Another gesture of his hand, and a throw blanket was in his grasp where he could lift it and wrap it around Crowley's shoulders. He didn't want to let him go too far, though, his arms returning to their place around the demon, and before he could even stop to think about what he was doing, he turned his face to press his lips delicately against his temple. A moment too late, he turned his face slightly away again, and gently guided Crowley back over to the sofa as if he hadn't done it at all.

Behind him, Crowley's eyes took in the entire moment, his swaying slowing to an almost standstill before returning with a vengeance, a low, distressed hiss starting in his throat despite the way he fought against the urge.

[eyesofaserpent]

Antia just watched as the Crowley she was perched on started getting immediately hammered. Not like it really surprised her, honestly. She was letting him in on a lot of heavy information. His protective hand amused her as well as his insistence the table was safer. She looked from his hand to his eye with a deadpan expression and then just opted to scale his face and perch on the top of the frames of his sunglasses.

"Might be, but I'm not made of glass you grade a dingus. I said all that so you would understand why I have to be near him and not treated like a pet, not so you would cover me in bubble wrap. I'm you, in a sense. I can take care of myself! Survived this long without the kid gloves."

She peered down between his sunglasses and his eyebrow to look him directly in the eye with eyes that were far too similar to his own. "I know you better than you know yourself and I know you won't do something so catastrophically stupid as to hurt me knowing what I am. So I need you to trust me to know what I'm doing. I will bite you if you treat me like a fragile object again."

Crowley, for his part, was aware enough to register the gentle kiss on his temple. He wasn't in a place to do anything with that knowledge though his heart fluttered slightly in his chest. The Aziraphale of this world was alive and had his arms around him and in spite of everything, despite himself, he felt... safe. He easily moved at the angel's insistence, shuffling over to the sofa again. He sat down on the sofa, taking the angel with him and curled against his soft, warm body.

"Thank you, Angel..."