Imaboringtwat - Idk What To Put Here

me when somebody responds with "k"

I’d rather stay in and read fanfics on AO3 than do this thing called go outside and talk to people

Aziraphale swallowed. “Oh dear.”

It followed that Asmodeus would have given him the largest room; he would have been the more difficult of the two to keep and a larger enclosure would be more suitable for keeping him quiet and occupied during those times when he would have to be locked away or separated from Crowley.

Aziraphale felt the pace of his breathing speed up along with his heartbeat. A flat metallic taste went through his mouth but he moved deliberately across the room and if one were watching, no one would have known the intense fear that jolted through Aziraphale’s body at that moment.

He closed the door, ostensibly to change, but in reality to sit down for a moment upon the pristine white leather chair at the desk and breathe very hard, clutching at the edge of the desk so that the edges of unfinished wood underneath the desk bit into his hands.

“Oh dear, oh goodness gracious…”

The words ran out as he realized he had nothing more to say.

It was not as if he didn’t know that the trap was around him, but it was a different thing to feel the edges of the teeth closing around him, slow and persistent.

“Damn,” he said softly to himself, realizing that the Prince of Hell had been on his own offensive with that regular evening book reading together, changing tactics to better meet what Aziraphale might himself be interested in and he had walked right into that – no, thrown himself into that with nary a second thought.

No, this would not do, and he took a moment to have a Moment, angry at himself for being played so easily, angry at Crowley for not telling him anything, and even more angry at Asmodeus for putting him in this ridiculous situation. But the anger passed like a hot wave and he spent a minute breathing heavily, hands clenched, before he stood up with deliberation to deal with the clothes. Time was an issue here and he did not want to upset the Prince of Hell.

So what would Asmodeus want him to wear? With an aggrieved sigh Aziraphale walked over toward the bed. This suit was quite handsome and more than sufficient to go to almost any event in, even the opera, but...oh.

“Oh.” Aziraphale felt the sound drop out of his mouth like a stone into water, sinking down and perhaps it went down so far as to bop Satan upon his forehead.

There, spread out upon the bed, was a beautiful glittering mass of silk and crystal and yes, this had to be an evening gown.

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Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

It's funny how often my posts get a lot of notes when part of the post is in all caps. Do you people like when I yell at you or something?