Maybe Its Because Im A Broke College Student With Crippling Depression But I Love The Idea Of Aziraphale

maybe it’s because i’m a broke college student with crippling depression but i love the idea of Aziraphale meeting this broke college student who came into the shop to see if he had a cheaper version of the textbook they needed and like instantly just fell in love with them in the same sense that you realize a puppy is a part of your family or that a piece of art would not make your house home unless it’s there. So he miracles them the textbook and loans it to them free of charge and they don’t really know what to do with that so they keep insisting that there has to be something they can do in return and Aziraphale randomly comes up with some task for them to do.

but actually shocker! they end up needing a whole bunch more books throughout the year and they always go to check Aziraphale’s shop first. He’s always thrilled to see them and the same sort of exchange occurs where they request a book, he miracles it into the back room and then they perform some menial task to “pay” for it, like changing lightbulbs or dusting shelves or even once helping assemble a new shelf that had come in the mail and Aziraphale had no idea how to go about hanging it on the wall but a drill and a youtube video later it’s ready to go.

this goes on for a long time, this little charade, and “Good morning, Mr. Fell,” becomes “Hello, Aziraphale,” becomes “Azi! Are you here?” and “I’m looking for-“ becomes “Do you know anything about-“ becomes “I’ve brought coffee-“

Slowly, Aziraphale catches on that this kid has a bad relationship with their parents and a worse relationship with themselves and it’s a whole load of nonsense to reassure them frantically that they’re always welcome in the shop and really, it’s no trouble at all, and you needn’t come and “make yourself useful. sit right there, i’ll bring you some tea.”

Until eventually they’re stopping in three or four times a week to look at whatever Aziraphale’s gotten his hands on that he’s particularly excited about or to have a cuppa or to taste whatever Aziraphale’s been baking (he’s gotten loads better, they must admit) or just to be away from school/dormitory/home for a while

sometimes, Azi’s… partner… is there, usually flung about whining about something or other and drinking, and at first they believed him to be standoffish but realized quickly that it was all just a bit of a farce to get Azi to take care of him. He’s awfully good at fretting, they would know.

Crowley even helps with maths homework sometimes, when they’ve got their head face down on the desk over Calculus, and he’s quite good at it really, knows lots of things about numbers and measurements. sometimes, he says he has to know, how else could he build galaxies and nebulas the way he did? They think this is one of his dramatic bits; he’s got a few of those, but sometimes when it gets dark out, he’ll pull out a star chart and show them all the little pieces of a section, and he’ll tell them what the stars looked like when they’d first been born, describing such lurid color and beauty that sometimes… they wonder if he really does know something…

That bookshop becomes the quietest, softest, homiest place in the country and really they’re there more often now than home and seeing Azi and Crowley more often than their own father and mother and really, maybe there is no point to wanting to kill yourself because Crowley will go on his little bit about the farm and Azi will roll his eyes but assure them that actually, he’s right, hard things are ineffable but life is worth living and there’s something so sacred about falling asleep hunched over Psychology textbooks in the dim light and knowing that Azi will carry you into bed like a child (he’s says theyre a tiny little thing; even if it’s not true) and the lights will all get hazy and Crowley will put on records if gets the chance- usually something slow and low unless Azi can get Saint-Saens on first- and it’s the feeling of being loved again, with the laughter and whispers from the other room and yes, you know what? They’ll be properly good on the farm, bad days are ineffable, but life is worth living

Do any of u have decent recipes that are like 5 ingredients (not including spices) and take 45 mins or less to prepare i gotta stop eating sandwiches for dinner

one day they might be brave enough

Sometimes I get too in my head with my writing. Especially about my smut. I reread every last word with the most critical of eyes and think, Ooh is that cringe? Will that be too graphic? Will this word or phrase take people out of the scene?

And then I read a book. A published, hardcover, NYT bestsellers list book and...

Did you get that?

Someone looked at this sentence (likely more than one someone, tbh) and was like, 'Yeah. We'll print that.'

So the moral of the story, my fellow heathen smut writers, is that we're fine.

As a matter of fact, we're actually fucking amazing.

dialogue prompts that give off ~chaotic vibes~

!!please credit me if you use any!!

"you idiot. now we're gonna die."

"american cheese. shitty yet addicting. kind of like my exes."

"everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."

"careful. those aren't designed for idiots."

"tssk, tssk. what would jeff goldblum think of this?"

"if you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working."

"i'm about to say 'shut up' and if you respond with a ridiculously flirtatious 'make me' i will slap you."

"i congratulate you. to convince them is no small feat." *pause* "though you do have small feet."

"don't worry. it's not lethal. i think."

"hey, did you fall from heaven when you hurt--fuck."

"no, but i can speak greek. είσαι σκατά." [you are shit.]

"can i? of course. will i? nah bro."

"we're gonna die and your tombstone will be engraved with 'death by dumbassery.'"

"i had a cat once. his name was stewart. i trained him in the fine art of jiu jitsu."

"what do you mean most people don't carry multiple knifes on them at once?? what if there's an attack?? or an urgent need to cut lettuce??"

"i swear to god if you post this on twitter i will steal your kidney."

"ok. fine. maybe i am a dumbass. but you gotta admit i'm a hot dumbass."

"ah, canada." (that's it. that's the prompt)

"is. is that a grenade."

"abso-fucking-lutely not."

"you know, this reminds me of the time i met the president."

"sometimes, your stupid astounds me."

"yeahhhh no. we're not doing that."

"is there actually anything in your skull or is it just dust and dumbass?"

"gordon ramsay is such a mood."

"this would be romantic if you weren't you and i wasn't me."

"most people just send a text, you know."

"goddammit. how many fucking beans did you spill."

"the world could be ending and you'd still find time to livetweet the imminent destruction of reality."

"you look like shit."

"i can kill a man with my bare hands but i can't unscrew this goddamn jar--"

extra challenges:

use all 31 in one work.

write one prompt every day for a month.

use a random number generator and write 500 (or any set number of) words, and only that amount of words.

to add some spice to #3, set a timer!

(reposted to switch to my prompt blog)

canon in my heart