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vocab_drabblesTitle: Pointlessly Pondering
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters: Crowley
Words: 301
Summary: Precious, peaceful, and fragile isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Notes: Implied depression. During and post S2.
Truth be told, precious, peaceful, and fragile wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be.
Crowley sat on the park bench, watching the ducks and occasionally berating someone for feeding them bread. Head propped up on one hand, he sighed, thinking about checking his mobile and immediately discarding the idea. He didn't feel like making the effort.
He should have felt wonderful, finally being free from hell. Officially retired (fired? Cast out?), an odd anomie has descended on him. Hell, he couldn't even be bothered to get himself a new place to live. It was just easier to stay in the Bentley.
Feeling like this was a surprise, he would have bet money that it would be Aziraphale who'd feel bored and cut adrift, his identity as an angel an integral part of him. He'd certainly reminded Crowley of it enough times - as if the demon could forget. Instead, said angel seemed perfectly content with his books, classical music, and dinners at the Ritz.
Who was he now, this ex-angel/ex-demon? Life went on (now that they'd saved it). Humans scuttled here and there, busy with their finite lives; angels and demons continued plotting their evil machinations; Aziraphale sat surrounded by his beloved books and bookshop.
And Crowley wasn't sure where he fit in.
Sighing again, he picked up the Tadfield Advertiser from where it lay beside him. It was good, it was lovely. No one trying to kill them, it was a beautiful sunny day in the park, with the freedom to watch the ducks and read the paper.
Just perfect.
A few days later, as Crowley stared out over the water without really seeing it and his mind played over how horribly everything had gone wrong, it was painfully apparent that there were far worse things than being bored.
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters: Crowley
Words: 301
Summary: Precious, peaceful, and fragile isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Notes: Implied depression. During and post S2.
Truth be told, precious, peaceful, and fragile wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be.
Crowley sat on the park bench, watching the ducks and occasionally berating someone for feeding them bread. Head propped up on one hand, he sighed, thinking about checking his mobile and immediately discarding the idea. He didn't feel like making the effort.
He should have felt wonderful, finally being free from hell. Officially retired (fired? Cast out?), an odd anomie has descended on him. Hell, he couldn't even be bothered to get himself a new place to live. It was just easier to stay in the Bentley.
Feeling like this was a surprise, he would have bet money that it would be Aziraphale who'd feel bored and cut adrift, his identity as an angel an integral part of him. He'd certainly reminded Crowley of it enough times - as if the demon could forget. Instead, said angel seemed perfectly content with his books, classical music, and dinners at the Ritz.
Who was he now, this ex-angel/ex-demon? Life went on (now that they'd saved it). Humans scuttled here and there, busy with their finite lives; angels and demons continued plotting their evil machinations; Aziraphale sat surrounded by his beloved books and bookshop.
And Crowley wasn't sure where he fit in.
Sighing again, he picked up the Tadfield Advertiser from where it lay beside him. It was good, it was lovely. No one trying to kill them, it was a beautiful sunny day in the park, with the freedom to watch the ducks and read the paper.
Just perfect.
A few days later, as Crowley stared out over the water without really seeing it and his mind played over how horribly everything had gone wrong, it was painfully apparent that there were far worse things than being bored.
