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#angel – @ineffablerainstorm on Tumblr
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Danger noodle of Eden

@ineffablerainstorm

30s, queer af, any pronouns
Good Omens hyperfixation At least 80% Crowley at all times Apparantly stuff about leaning on things and not sitting straight Every snek Crowley deserves a boop 🕶️🐍
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sometimes i hate the fact that i have to go to work and not think about good omens for a while but then i remember i work in a bar that serves talisker in an area of london called angel, islington and i'm yeah they're always with me<3

Ahh but you know what my brain did with that information?!? Mini fic incoming:

Crowley can’t go to Soho. He can’t face the bookshop with the wrong angel inside. He can’t go to the park either. Or the museum. Or the theatre. Memories of Aziraphale are everywhere.

So he goes to pubs and bars instead. He drinks and drinks and drinks until he can almost pretend to forget his aching heart.

He doesn’t plan to go anywhere in particular. But somehow he finds himself gravitating to this one place again and again.

He tries to tell himself it’s not because it’s in angel. No, certainly not.

He orders Talisker. Always a large one. Never only one. He sits in a corner and he drinks.

He wonders sometimes, when his thoughts are still clear enough, which angel is responsible for the name of the area. Or if humans came up with it all by themselves. He also wonders if angels come to drink here too. Probably not.

But mostly he thinks about one angel in particular. His angel.

And so sometimes, in the corner of a bar, in a place called angel, a demon clutches a glass of Talkisker for support and cries.

Have fun at work 😭😂

Hey @ineffabildaddy remember me? I’m here now, so where can I get that Talisker? 😂

Avatar

sometimes i hate the fact that i have to go to work and not think about good omens for a while but then i remember i work in a bar that serves talisker in an area of london called angel, islington and i'm yeah they're always with me<3

Ahh but you know what my brain did with that information?!? Mini fic incoming:

Crowley can’t go to Soho. He can’t face the bookshop with the wrong angel inside. He can’t go to the park either. Or the museum. Or the theatre. Memories of Aziraphale are everywhere.

So he goes to pubs and bars instead. He drinks and drinks and drinks until he can almost pretend to forget his aching heart.

He doesn’t plan to go anywhere in particular. But somehow he finds himself gravitating to this one place again and again.

He tries to tell himself it’s not because it’s in angel. No, certainly not.

He orders Talisker. Always a large one. Never only one. He sits in a corner and he drinks.

He wonders sometimes, when his thoughts are still clear enough, which angel is responsible for the name of the area. Or if humans came up with it all by themselves. He also wonders if angels come to drink here too. Probably not.

But mostly he thinks about one angel in particular. His angel.

And so sometimes, in the corner of a bar, in a place called angel, a demon clutches a glass of Talkisker for support and cries.

Have fun at work 😭😂

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