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.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

I say they go this one more time, settle, then skip to first trip back to london in..who knows

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2020-07-22 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
The demon's hands feel like they belong on his skin, another feeling he didn't quite think, even consider at all, not that long ago. But when they're together like this, in the quiet like this, together and joined with no interruption or barrier, he feels like that's where they belong. He's never quite managed to put that into words. Maybe he's never had to.

(Feathers shift as if breathing, hold and encase. He's free to go, free to roam, but this light is his if he'll take it.)

Aziraphale follows the kiss, lets himself lean down and lay upon the demon. Both his hands touch Crowley's face now, thumbs brushing over his cheeks.
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)