questionablewit: (snark)
Hawke ([personal profile] questionablewit) wrote in [community profile] faemused2018-11-11 03:46 pm
Entry tags:

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2


Want to tag someone? Tag someone. Put the character you want in the subject line.
Leave a starter, or leave a prompt and I'll start.
Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.
confoundthemighty: (Oh you.)

It’s quarantine! Time is meaningless! Have a taco!

[personal profile] confoundthemighty 2020-08-08 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
It looks smaller in the light of day—particularly the bits where the roof is mostly on the floor—and far more humble than its original owners probably intended. Perhaps this place was the project of an ambitious merchant, or a lesser noble hoping to move up in the world; now it merely looks shabby in a friendly way.

Aziraphale slips his arm around Crowley’s waist, basks in his nearness and the no-longer-tense set of his shoulders.

“I hoped you’d enjoy it,” he murmurs, squeezing gently. “Though I think our first order of business will have to be finding a spot with adequate roofing for the bed to go under.”

(The driver, meanwhile, finds his initial suspicions about his passengers’ ownership of the house sliding out of his thoughts entirely as they approach. Certainly it’s very run-down for a family home, as the gentleman in white claims, but the place gives off such a sense of peace that he merely finds himself approving of the decision to spend a summer here.)
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - smile)

Time suddenly has meaning again this week and it's WEIRD mmm tacos though

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2020-08-11 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
As soon as Aziraphale's arm is around his waist Crowley is relaxing back into the hold. He chuckles at the caveat even as he reaches down and covers Aziraphale's hand with his, pressing their fingers together. "We've slept in worse," he points out, then turns his head and grins. "Or I have, lazy angel that I am. You've watched me sleep in worse places, more accurately."

He does not think of the past year, of dirt for bedding and his own elbow as a cushion and the open air as a blanket. He does lean in and kiss Aziraphale's cheek. "At worst we'll have the stars for our ceiling and each other as a coverlet. I'll be content with that, I promise." He grins, his expression turning a bit sly. "Well...mostly content. Wouldn't say no to a mattress. Or pillows."
Edited (Was rereading and the editing bug bit sorry please ignore me) 2021-01-15 02:07 (UTC)
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - serious)

For Zirafell

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2020-12-15 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Things are perfect.

Truly, they are, even by Crowley's exacting standards. They're better than they've ever been. He's free of Heaven's restrictions and can do as he pleases. The word hasn't ended, humanity goes on, music and drama and daytime television all continue. His plants are thriving, his Bentley is miraculously restored, and somehow when the world remade itself he had a few extra first presses of limited edition vinyl albums he didn't have before. It's all brilliant.

And not just for Crowley. Zirafell is no longer bound by Hell, and if millennia of necessary paranoia mean he's still anxious more often than not...well. He's here. He's *here*, and no excuse was needed. No Arrangement need or fancy pastry bribe. All right, there was a promise of alcohol, but only because they enjoy sharing it. He's here, sitting on an armchair Crowley long ago purchased solely for his use, and he's sitting there being comfortable and reading as though this is his own space. Just for the pleasure of being here, in Crowley's company, even if they aren't actively doing anything right now. Just spending leisure time, which they suddenly have in abundance.

It's perfect.

So it's a bit odd that Crowley, lying back on the couch and ostensibly playing match-3 games on his phone, doesn't seem to have touched the screen for several minutes, or even focused on it. Also that he keeps batting his foot against the cushions absently.
duckshaveears: (~ caress)

How do we get to anything like closure tho? They're so in denial atm

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2020-12-17 10:01 am (UTC)(link)
There's another dimension to what they're doing now, one that makes Crowley shudder. Aziraphale's hands frame his face (and the gaze of countless eyes caress his form). Aziraphale's weight presses him down (and his feather brush against scales, enfolding, protective and cherishing and cherished). They're in a false calm now, one made of the need to comfort each other, of affirmation. But they're also bound now in ways they weren't before, which defy description in any language, even the oldest.

It changes everything. And even as Crowley is thrilled and awed by it, it's a little frightening. This goes far beyond being seen or known.

He drags his focus back to Earth, to the five human senses. There's more than enough richness to overwhelm those even without adding in the extradimensional elements.

(Enough to overwhelm the sight of the void?)

Crowley shudders again, his arms frightening around Aziraphale as his tongue snakes in deeper, tasting. He slides his leg up, twines it around Aziraphale's, lifts his hips to rub against him.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

I think they'll be in denial for a while, but it'll probably come back to haunt them later

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2020-12-23 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)
He's light and warmth and caring and protection, here and Somewhere else. For as much as he's always been meant to be, never before as he found himself so fitting to his purpose. But perhaps even the thought is pointless, remnants of the ideas of Meant To Be, Made To Be. Concepts they've both broken through a long time ago, but the shards lay to remind him and to pull him back into things that no longer hold any value. To worry about filling a part. But he's here now, they're here now, and they're something entirely new and unique, not because they have to be, but because they want to. And the only creature that's ever understood him never demanded him to be anything beyond who he is.

( He still feels weak, and sore, and hurt, fear biting at the edges of his wings. Darkness creeping at the edges of his light, and he's afraid, so afraid, that this might not be real. He's so afraid that this is all but a moment in his own thoughts, a way to save him from a much bleaker reality. But, if that's true, he doesn't know if he's strong enough to test it, for fear of the truth.

So he'll live here, for now. For however long. For how long he can make all of this last.)

His lips part, tongue brushing against the serpentine one, welcoming him in, gently. One of his hands pull away from Crowley's cheek to stroke up the outside of his thigh, and back down with an encouraging squeeze, his hips pressing down and returning the demon's movement.

He still remembers the first times, when Crowley encouraged him through the new, the vulnerability, the things they had yet learned about each other and about being with each other, their bodies, what makes them warm, what makes them shiver. Every little detail, since then, he holds at the back of his mind, for times like this. The way he knows Crowley appreciates the long strokes of his hands over his skin. How he likes when he angel presses his weight down on him like so. The soft touches, cheek, neck, skin, that give the angel the time to appreciate both the sharpest and the softest parts of his corporation, and he knows Crowley will be patient. And he knows just how to reward him so.

Edited 2020-12-23 17:22 (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Neutral, back (The Ark)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2020-12-23 11:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Things are perfect. That is to say, as far as he can tell, they seem to be perfect. Perfect is an idea that is often spoken but hardly accurate, and even less so when your instincts have been molded in such a way that Perfect often equates Too Good To Be True.

And yet, he may dare say it - or, at least, think it. Against all survivalist instinct, against all odds, against all of the things they've seen, specially the ones from not that long ago. Yes, he may dare take the leap to say something so preposterous, so finite, so very stark in its definition. Things may be, unless proven otherwise (hopefully not proven otherwise) actually, legitimately, perfect.

His fear of Hell lies dormant under a gentle layer of relief. The pits and sulfur and flame seem to distant now, here, after everything. The show ended with a bang and the finale played itself out. The curtain's been dropped, and they now sit backstage, taking off the greasepaint and putting their costumes away. Now is the quiet, and he couldn't be happier.

The demon's never needed an invitation. As far as he's been aware, one or two extended invitations centuries ago were valid for as long as he was allowed to stick around. That agreement in itself was a bit more one sided than maybe others would have assumed, but he always thought it worked for them.

So he sits, in this chair, with this book, somewhere where he may dare call...comfortable. Nice, even. He may one day even call it something else, something more important, but those will have to do for now. There's only so much Daring he can spare in a given period of time. And whether all of these concepts have to do with the amenities and physical comforts spared by the other person in the room, or their actual presence under the same room as the demon, well, they'll just have to wait and see.

Books tend to have a sort of entrancing effect on the demon - good books, anyway, the strange and interesting especially, whatever that might mean for a creature such as him. Point being, once he's began running his eyes through the pages, his corporation and the tome might as well be fused together, stuck in a process that isn't to be interrupted, no matter the reason. And, yet, he finds his attention lacking tonight. The literature betrayed by such vague distractions, which he has the full mind to make up for at a later point. But something wanders the depth of his min, peeking out every so often with curious eyes. He can't quite put his finger on it, but it does draw him away from his reading enough to take note of the shuffling born from the angel's foot against the cushions.

As such, in a rare turn of events, the demon plucks his eyes away from the pages and lays them on the restless figure laying on the nearby sofa, observing him for a moment before finally breaking the silence.

"Something on your mind, angel?"
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - attention)

I just got so stuck on this. I had a clear idea and it went pffftt.

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-24 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley jumps, as much as you can jump while lying flat on your back. "Nope!" he says, much too quickly. "Nope, not a thing. Completely empty mind. As empty as, uh..." He shrugs, also difficult while lying on your back. "As some completely empty thing. Why do you ask?"
salutosinedelectat: Listening, serious (Hmm.)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-25 11:50 pm (UTC)(link)
The demon stays silent for a second or two too long for someone who's truly casual, watching the entirely normal reaction from the angel.

"Just a thought." He spares the pages another glance, but the words do nothing to capture his attention again. What a shame. He then closes the book, letting it lay on his lap.

"Are you quite sure you're alright?"
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - looking down)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-27 11:06 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley, in an effort to look as laid-back as possible and give off an air of someone who definitely isn't thinking about anything at all ever, has brought up one knee and crossed his leg over it. He stares up at the ceiling as Aziraphale picks up his book again, and is still staring at it when the demon puts the book back down. He doesn't look over.

"Well. As it happens I might've been. Wondering. About something."

Given that Crowley is more or less constantly wondering about everything, this hardly seems to merit any excitement.
salutosinedelectat: Neutral, curious, confused (That's not right)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-27 12:33 pm (UTC)(link)
Zirafell knows this process, not only because he's known the angel far better for far longer than most most likely had the chance to, but because he matches his level of subtlety at any given time over any given subject.

So he watches the angel some more, the pauses between words making it all the more obvious.

"Something?" An extra curious twist at the end of the word, hands neatly folded over the book on his lap.
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - looking down)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-27 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Crowley doesn't blush and he's not nervous. Not at all. Despite the way Zira weighs the word, makes it a question.

"Just an idea I had," he mumbles. "S'not that important."

The ceiling is apparently gray, like the rest of his flat. Fascinating. Which is why he keeps staring at it, of course. No other reason.
salutosinedelectat: Confused, curious (Huh)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-27 03:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, now they certainly have a mystery on their hands. Or the demon does, anyway. And he's so very bored, and so very unfocused, which means the next best thing, unfortunately for the angel, is to focus on him.

(Which, really, he should expect by now. It doesn't always come in the form of a small goat stomping around his flat just to hear the sound of their own hooves as if they were participating in some strange form of tapdancing.)

"And what idea is that?"
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - welp)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-27 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, Crowley knows he has Zira's attention. The unblinking gaze of those rectangular eyes is hard to ignore even if Crowley were thus inclined, which he never is.

Mostly grey, the ceiling is. Turns out there's a few white specks, here and there.

"Wswndrngfyoudlktsty."

(It comes out as a prolonged kind of grunt. +10 points for effort, Crowley, but -50 for a lack of vowels, volume, and space between words)
Edited (I can spell, really!) 2021-05-27 15:51 (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Serious (...)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-27 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
The demon is silent. The kind of silence that is not so much the absence of something as it is a something that fills the room, and it's quite unclear if he blinks at all during this entire time.

Eventually, partly because no other sound comes in to interrupt the silence, he finally speaks again.

"Pardon?"
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - ominous)

Btw Zira can and likely does know all that about Sheelael :)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-27 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Crowley resists the urge to curl up into a ball or pace or do any number of other things that would not in fact make this any easier. He does manage to clear his throat before trying again, and to not mumble this time.

"I was wondering if you'd like to stay. Here, I mean. With me. As in, not leaving at the end of the day. Or night. Whichever."

Shit, that time it actually came out coherent, which means now he's committed to it. Crowley keeps his eyes firmly on the ceiling and absolutely does not turn to look at Zira's reaction, because whatever that reaction is, it'd probably bring him to a halt, and he'll never manage this conversation a second time.

"Not that I mean you should give up your bookshop, of course. Or that we should even be here here, could get some other place if you'd rather. Space for two. Well, two and a lot of books and plants...the point is, I was wondering if you'd like to just...stay. With me. Since that's an option we have, now. If you wanted."

He stops abruptly after this long collection of fragmented thoughts, and his body is tense for all that he's still in the faux-relaxed position he's been in for a while.
salutosinedelectat: Confused (Oh huh)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-27 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
For the first third or fourth of the struggle, Zirafell begins to piece together a perhaps less-than-modest idea of what exactly the angel is attempting to ask him. He does kick himself a little for it, thinking perhaps that's an entirely erroneous read of the situation. Which it, in fact, is, but not the way he initially expects.

There's a rather specific moment when the realization hits him (which Crowley could have seen, if he had not been paying so much attention to the ceiling), although it results in more of a freezing of his features than anything entirely bombastic. Not yet, anyway.

"I..." A placeholder sound, more than a word, or a someone. His mind is still lagging behind a few steps. But it does catch up eventually.

"What are you asking me, Crowley?"

Not to offend the great effort in clarity, but some things are worth saying again. Specially things of such a nature as the thing he suspects may possibly theoretically be the answer.
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - set)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-28 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
There's a long pause.

Then Crowley takes a deep breath and sits up, twisting around as he does so, so he finally ends up facing the demon and looking directly at him. His expression is set, determined, even bordering on grim. It's a stark contrast to the rambling words of before. But sometimes all you can do is throw everything in and hope it pays off.

"Move in with me, Zira," he says, and the words are quiet but clear and unwavering. "Here or somewhere else, so long as we're living together. That's what I'm asking."
salutosinedelectat: Nervous, surprised, smitten (I won't say I'm in-)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-28 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
Now, they're looking at each other. Now, things have been put in such a way to leave no doubt or chance. And Zirafell certainly didn't prepare for grand gestures of this magnitude when he sat down for a read.

"Ha, you're-" His face begins to twist into a grin, one of Those ones, but quite immediately falls back down into mild shock. "You're serious." With a touch of disbelief, although he knows the angel to not be the kind to joke about such things. Not with that look in his eyes. Not about, well...them.
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - if only)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-28 02:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"Yeah." Crowley is beyond familiar with both the frozen look that's on Zira's face at first and the false deflective grin that attempts to take over, knows them for the armor they are. They don't put him off at all. He has years of experience in watching Zira's reactions, he knows which ones are real and which are masks. And the fact that Zirafell openly looks shocked, if mildly...that says a good deal. "Yeah, I am."
salutosinedelectat: Surprised, shocked, confused (Oh lord no.)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-28 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
He didn't suspect tonight would be any special. No big events, no big words, just a quiet sit down, doing whatever they felt like doing in each other's company. He did not, in any way, shape or form, prepare for something like this. And he does so like to be prepared.

So he stares, looking for something in the angel's face that might tell him this isn't what it sounds like. That it's maybe a joke, or something he's misinterpreting. Not that he wishes it would be - he doesn't think he does - does he? - No -, but in dread that be might be very seriously misreading what exactly is happening.

"You're...but we-the--Oh."
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - if only)

I love that icon

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-31 03:16 pm (UTC)(link)
"We couldn't ever say it, before." It's easier, now that he's gotten started, now that he's looking at Zira. Now that Zira is looking back, not glancing away or wearing a false smile or pretending something else is happening. Maybe that's all yet to come and if it does Crowley will have to grin and bear it the same way he has for centuries, and he will, he would.

But right now...for right now he can keep going, and does. "And I get that. I do. But I know...you know..." He stops and swallows. Takes a breath. Spits it out. "Everything is always better when you're here. Everything. I've spent centuries trying to wrangle things to spend as much time in your company as possible without being obvious about it, because I couldn't say any of it and you couldn't have said anything back even if I had done. But now I can. So...so I love you, and I want to live with you. If that's something you'd...be okay with."

And now those nerves catch up with him again, and he flushes and looks away, bites his lip. "And we could figure out what exactly that'd all entail in advance or as we go, or, or if you need we can just forget this conversation happened and I'll shut my mouth and not mention it ever again, just please stay my friend and I'm sorry to throw all of this at you at once, but you did ask what was on my mind and the answer is you, it's always you. So...that's it."

It's not his most eloquent moment and later on he'll kick himself for not being more suave or at least coherent. Damn it, he should have planned this, should have arranged some romantic dinner with which to woo his fiend and knock the socks off his hooves, but it's too late now. This will have to do.
salutosinedelectat: Confused, nervous (break up)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-05-31 11:19 pm (UTC)(link)
And the demon stares.

It's so much, so fast. No so much in how many words he puts it in, or how long he talks. Nor for how much he reveals about how long he's been having those thoughts. No, it's all so much because it's there. Because of the realization that it's being said. Of the reality that it's coming from the angel's mouth, and that he can, that they can, that they are, and they're here and things are intrinsically different.

He knew, of course. That things were different. You don't exactly go through intense personal and cosmic events without getting the hint that the sheer foundation of everything you knew has changed, in one way or another. But it's one thing to know that things are different, and it's another to witness them happening, by your hand or someone else's, and seeing just how much work your mind and/or body have to do to catch up with it.

His nails dig into the leather of the book sitting on his lap, now discarding the task of being a distraction, and instead serving as something grounding, for a change. The demon takes in every detail of the angel's face. His eyes, his mouth, the lines on his face. Something, something. There has to be something. There can't not be something.

"If-" His voice falters, and he catches himself. He's known for his eloquence, and this is certainly not the time to stutter and stumble like a young human child trying to recite a text in front of their class. "If this is--if this is a, a jape of some sort, I--I would-I'd--" So much for that. "--I would find it very cruel, angel."

There's a sternness to his face. Not at all real, of course, another mask, a new mask, hiding something a lot more red. A lot more tender. The thing that's making the blue in his eyes threaten to take over, and gets similarly pushed back with a couple of forceful blinks.

"I--I, I don't mean to say you're--" What if he's still reading it wrong? Companionship isn't unheard of, and he's met more than his fair share of humans who relished in it, in pairs or more, who kept different names for it. But it fills him with something quite like dread - perhaps it is dread -, the possibility of being mistaken. Of getting the wrong message. With all worthwhile distractions taken away, he's much too open - he knows, he does, that he would never recover from it.

"I don't, I-- And he stops. And he breathes in, and out. And he clears his throat.


"...I would. Be okay with it, I mean."

And he does, the other thing. He does too. If it counts. If its true.
duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - revelation)

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-05-31 11:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Crowley's eyes go wide at the suggestion this might be some kind of joke or prank. He has a sense of humour, one that's often mischievous, but-- "I would never."

He slides to the floor, ends up on his knees at Zira's side. Takes his hands. "I wouldn't ever play with your emotions like that. Especially not when you're the only person I've ever been able to be honest with."

Mostly honest. Honest except for this one thing they've never talked about, this one little actually rather large and now suddenly manifest thing.

Crowley waits and listens, watches the twitches and the colours of the demon's face, the slight movements of the wrinkles at the edges of his lines and mouth, the smallest tells. But this is s new face and new expression, it's all new territory, and Crowley's heart is in his throat. Too fast, he's been too fast again, too soon, too much...

I would.

His breath catches. He didn't really expect any sort of clear-cut answer, not so quickly. "You would?" he asks, and this time the hope seems painfully obvious in the way he says it, the simple vulnerability of asking for confirmation leaving him more bare than all those words of a few minutes ago.
salutosinedelectat: Sad, talking, serious (Hate right now)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2021-06-01 12:38 am (UTC)(link)
First thing he notices is that their hands are warm. Both of theirs. Maybe clammy, which he finds to be somewhat of a flaw on these corporations. Just unnecessary unpleasant, really, to add to what should be already well present discomfort. But it's okay, like this, he thinks. Somehow it's not so unpleasant when someone else is holding your hand, he finds.

The sternness on his face morphs, slowly and subtly, into something a tad more sort. A tad more different. Bare. Hopeful dread. As such different things can sometimes mesh together in unnatural ways.

An angel kneeling before a demon, and declarations too terrifying to believe. What a sight. Is this really what was expecting the not-end of the world all along?

"- I would." It comes as almost a whisper. Uncertain as if the words aren't really his, like he's still waiting for the carpet to be pulled from under him even when no one's got their hands on it.

duckshaveears: (| unfallen au - you there God it's me Cr)

honestly I didn't intend for this to get quite so sweet but here we are

[personal profile] duckshaveears 2021-06-01 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh."

And for a moment that's all. Crowley sits there, his hands resting on Zira's, looking more than a little stunned.

When he does speak again, he's almost whispering too. "And you don't mind, uh, the other bit? The, um, the...love...part."

It's hard to say. It came out as part of the flood a moment ago but it's still hard.

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