Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2
Nov. 11th, 2018 03:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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faemused
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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.
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Date: 2019-12-17 09:47 am (UTC)Mm. Make sure you leave the lipstick marks, though. I want to be able to look at you all evening and know they're there underneath all that finery.
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Date: 2019-12-17 07:10 pm (UTC)[Even if his clothes are now immaculate, the skin beneath still bears lipstick prints, his own happy secret. They'll remain till they're rubbed off by the sweet friction of their bare bodies at the end of the night.
Thankfully, his balance has returned in time for him to get back to his feet; he offers her a hand up, smiling brilliantly.
He will, however, pull her nearly into his lap in the cab on the way to Artemis Warehouse, keeping her close enough for fond whispers and petting, shared laughter that both makes their cab driver feel somewhat awkward and strangely fortunate to have such a cute couple in his backseat.]
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Date: 2019-12-17 09:26 pm (UTC)[A teasing, sultry grin from a smug mouth, smudged and stained and thoroughly indecent. Crowley lets him help her up, swaying a little on her heels, then refastens her hair ornament and cleans herself up. They leave the cloakroom decorous enough for anyone's standards, provided that anyone didn't look too closely at Aziraphale's neck. Crowley silently vows that next time they dine here, she'll fuck him up against the wall. Or let him fuck her up against the wall. Either way. On a pile of coats. Something. A new dessert tradition.
They find a cab and break all the rules of seatbelts as Aziraphale keeps her snuggled in ridiculously close. Crowley doesn't argue. She nuzzles at his face and ear and squirms happily when his hand slides up her leg or under the hem of her skirt, or when the hand holding her side stretches a finger and teases along the curve of her breast. They talk low, teasing and flirting and reminiscing and laughing, above all laughing. Neither of them can stop laughing, or touching each other, or beaming like lovesick idiots, which they are.
It's the best night Crowley can ever remember having, and they aren't even at the show yet.]
switching back to prose because dialogue!
Date: 2019-12-17 10:18 pm (UTC)The theatre that currently plays host to the Artemis Warehouse dance company is a smallish brownish building, one of those blocky 1970s affairs that was probably supposed to look serious and efficient when it was built and now seems a touch out of place. Still, it's not nearly as forbidding as most buildings like it, and the space inside is vibrant. A backlit poster reading SWAN LAKE: A NEW BALLET shows a watercolor sketch of two women, one in a white gown and one in a black gown, leaning towards one another for an embrace. The same image is printed on the front of the playbills; Aziraphale makes a note to contact the artist and see if they'll sell him the original.
This being a performance for supporters and investors, several of the main creative personalities of the company have come out to the lobby to greet and thank their first audience. Though Aziraphale keeps his arm around Crowley's waist, he glances towards one of the people doing the greeting, a short woman in a black suit with a white feather boa.
"I don't suppose you'd indulge me for a moment, in showing you off to the artistic director?" he murmurs, sweetly.
WHOOPS didn't even realize I'd switched! Apologies!! Prose is fine by me, esp for dialogue.
Date: 2019-12-17 10:50 pm (UTC)"Think I see why you wanted this production, angel," she murmurs, looking up at the poster with a wide grin. She has an arm around the angel's shoulders, and squeezes tight for a momentary embrace. "And sure, I'll be your arm candy. Introduce me. Anyone who can wear a feather boa with that much style is in my good books."
Don't even worry about it! :D It did seem a propos for the circumstances.
Date: 2019-12-17 11:28 pm (UTC)"Good evening--Merope, isn't it?" he asks the woman in the boa, and saves her the courtesy of rifling through her mental files by extending the hand not currently splayed against Crowley's side. "We've been corresponding via email."
Her eyes widen in recognition; there's a definite spark behind them, some pleasant association.
"Mr. Fell?" she ventures, her smile growing broader and brighter. "From--"
"From the bookshop, yes. So good to meet you in person at last."
She grins hugely as she shakes his hand. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Fell. I can't thank you enough for your support on this production--you've helped us make some real miracles with this show, and I hope you'll be proud of what you see."
"I'm certain I will. And--may I introduce my partner?"
The word doesn't come close to encompassing what Crowley is to him, but it does also give him a little thrill of pride--they're not just two souls who have an Arrangement, they're a united front.
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Date: 2019-12-18 01:03 am (UTC)But she can tease her angel (hers, hers, hers, and she feels all melty inside when he introduces her as his partner) later. For now Crowley holds out a hand to be politely clasped. "Merope, hmm?" She grins. "One of my favourite stars, that one. Crowley."
She does that a lot, when giving her name. Like Bond, James Bond, which Ian Fleming absolutely stole from her, except with just the Crowley. She might not have to put up a front for Hell anymore but there's still such a thing as style.
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Date: 2019-12-18 06:35 am (UTC)"Merope Stanton. Mr. Fell mentioned you in his emails[1]. It's great to meet you."
"Swan Lake is a mutual favorite," Aziraphale says, somehow both sly and proud. "Very dear to our hearts. From what you've already told me I have every confidence this production will do it justice."
"Well, for a certain value of justice," Merope laughs, gaze flicking between the two of them. "I don't know if Mr. Fell has told you, but the story in our version is very different from the traditional ballet."
[1] It did, in fact, take several miracles for Aziraphale's computer to handle email. Thankfully, computers are very good at doing what they're told without question or complaint, and Aziraphale can be quite articulate and polite when he wants something, so whenever the angel writes out a letter with ink and quill, then folds and seals it and feeds it into the floppy disk drive, it finds a way to make the entire process work. Incoming emails, incidentally, print themselves out on his dot matrix printer in exquisite and extremely legible handwriting.
omg the mental image of Aziraphale inserting a letter into the disc drive!!! And it WORKING!
Date: 2019-12-18 05:20 pm (UTC)She silently tightens her grasp on Aziraphale's shoulders again, turns and smiles at him; her expression visibly warms whenever she's looking Aziraphale, whether she's aware of it or not, which just now she isn't. But she has a strong idea who might be responsible for certain directions this production has decided to attempt with the story. Sweet, sentimental, meddling angel.
I'm very proud of that, thank you! And feel free to use it if you'd like. :D
Date: 2019-12-18 06:00 pm (UTC)Aziraphale turns a little, catches Crowley's gaze, his heart squirming happily as he watches pink heat creep over her sharp cheekbones. He can tell, even with the sunglasses in the way, that her eyes are luminous as molten gold.
"I can't tell you how glad we are to hear that."
A nervous, slender young person in tight jeans and very high heels catches at Merope's arm, trying to get her attention; she shoots the two of them an apologetic look.
"Duty calls--but, listen, I hope you enjoy the show, it's great to meet you both!"
I may well, it's too good to not share! If I do I'll credit you in notes, of course. <3
Date: 2019-12-18 09:04 pm (UTC)I always consider borrowed headcanon a great compliment, especially from writers I admire. :D
Date: 2019-12-19 04:18 pm (UTC)"Confession is for the contrite," he says, blithely, "and I have no regrets whatsoever. Besides, some human was going to have the idea eventually--I just happened to help along the inevitable with a vision or two, and let these humans' imaginations do the rest."
(He'd been rather surprised and not a little touched that, in her correspondence, Merope had been genuinely and deeply enthused about the project. Even if it won't have the same meaning to any mortal heart as it does to the two of them, it's nice to know that their version of this story resonates with humans too--and especially that there are other humans who, like Crowley, have been waiting for a chance to give Odile the story she deserves.)
I'm wary, having been in HP fandom back when Shit Went Down. But with permission and credit, yes. =)
Date: 2019-12-19 10:50 pm (UTC)"Is that all," she says, obviously teasing and suspecting Aziraphale has had a larger hand in this than he claims. Something is up, that's for certain, something beyond the obvious. Crowley's too experienced a plotter not to smell one when it's under her nose.
But Aziraphale is frankly adorable when he's trying to be secretive, so Crowley steals another kiss, lingering a bit longer this time. It is so good to hear the angel say he has no regrets, in any context, after years and years of watching him fret and fuss and fear about every little thing.
"Love you," she murmurs quietly, kissing his cheek as well before stepping a little away so she can take his arm. "And we should probably find our seats."
btw unless she has other plans he’s going to talk her off at intermission.
Date: 2019-12-21 07:08 pm (UTC)“Probably a good idea,” he replies, though already he’s had a better one: how to get back at her during the interval. Twenty minutes should be long enough for what he’s got in mind. “I love you too.”
*
They find their seats easily enough, get comfortable together and spend a few minutes chatting about the current season at the National Theatre before the lights dim. Merope Stanton takes the stage first, to give a short speech: She thanks her audience for their support, in all its forms, and the company as well, for their faith in this new production. With the embarrassed ease of someone telling a by-now infamous story about themselves, she relates how the inspiration for this Swan Lake came from a recurring dream she had, about two bird queens who fell in love—the perfect twist on a classic, for a dance company that aims to bring queer love stories and ballet together, to show happy endings for those who don’t traditionally get them.
She also apologizes for any technical mishaps they might have this evening, but reassures everyone that the final tech rehearsal should have eliminated all the pre-opening problems*.
There’s an enthusiastic round of applause as she thanks the crowd one last time before jogging offstage. Then the lights dim further, the recorded score kicks in, and Aziraphale squeezes Crowley’s hand gently in the dark.
Instead of the triumphal entrance of a prince and a hunting party, the performance opens at the Court of the Ravens, with the triumphal entrance of their queen, Odile. The costumes are stylized, the sets mostly projected onto panels along the back of the stage and accentuated with a few props. And none of the dancers are on pointe—in fact they don’t look much like a traditional dance company at all, with the variety of body types on display, very few of them the standard stick-thin and short. For instance, Von Rothbart is six foot three, muscular, bearded, and has the show’s only pointe solos.
And it’s their story. A few deviations, yes, but the bones are all the same.
The first act ends with Odile and Odette being interrupted by the sorcerer; what had been a tender pas de deux becomes a nearly-acrobatic pas de trois as Von Rothbart issues his challenges and tries to keep the lovers apart. The mountain of fire and the depths of the lake glow ominously into life at either side of the stage, presenting the two queens with their challenge as the curtain falls.
The applause would be enthusiastic even if there weren’t two supernatural beings in the audience. A wonderful sign, Aziraphale thinks, and turns his beaming smile on Crowley as the lights come up.
“What do you think so far?”
* It didn’t. The angel in the audience, however, did.
Oh hell yes bring it ON. Crowley has no other plansyet, get her off balance enough and she won't. ;)
Date: 2019-12-21 11:35 pm (UTC)Good. Fuck uniformity. Half the interest and fun of the world is in its endless variety. Even without the more personal inducements Crowley would be enjoying this.
And it's their story. Theirs, the one Aziraphale wrote for Crowley, for them. Not exactly as the angel did it, no--it's lacking a few particular inside references, details are altered, extraneous characters around to distract, all those things. But at its heart it's the same.
She sits back in her seat, watches with open enjoyment and interest, and holds Aziraphale's hand for the entire first half. Sometimes during a moment that feels particularly relevant somehow--Odette's jump of surprise when she's found by the lake, Odile's confusion when she's offered friendship instead of fear--she'll caress Aziraphale's hand with her thumb, or hold a little more tightly, or move her leg so their knees touch for a moment. It's rare for any event they attend together to hold Crowley's attention as much as the angel himself does, but she watches without looking away once, and her smile is smaller than Aziraphale's but never fades.
When the house lights come back on Crowley raises an eyebrow at Aziraphale's broad, beaming smile (she always does, how is the angel so positively ebullient about everything, doesn't it ever get exhausting?), but she grins back. "I think you cheated a lot more with those dreams than you've let on," she says, obviously amused. "And I love that you did. Sneaky, angel, very sneaky."
All right, brace for serious (and highly affectionate) filth. >:D
Date: 2019-12-22 06:00 am (UTC)Though there is no greater pleasure in this brave new world they’re making than not having to be sneaky. She’s been writing messages on him with her touch, I see you, I see us, and I love what I’m seeing, but even in the dark of a theatre they don’t have to hide.
Aziraphale leans a little closer, gaze trailing over the sharp contours of her face like a caress.
“And speaking of inspiration.” His voice has dropped to a conspiratorial tone, soft and measured as if he’s reading poetry. “I’ve had an idea. Would you be willing to accompany me outside, for a breath of fresh air?”
(If he’s honest, the idea has occurred to him before—cold winter air to roll over their desire-flushed faces. The sensory contrast is delightful even to think about, and an easy way of heightening the experience for both of them. And, of course, no one will notice them.)
Do your worst, this will be brilliant. =)
Date: 2019-12-22 09:09 pm (UTC)She swallows hard, then tries to regain some of her aplomb, chuckling. "About time some of my wicked ways rubbed off on you." She stands up, gets her coat. "And sure, why not. Not too long, mind, it's much too blessed cold out there. What sort of an idea? More ways to interfere with art and culture?"
Happy holidays, I brought you the angel with the filthiest imagination!
Date: 2019-12-22 10:55 pm (UTC)He can almost feel her skin prickle beneath her coat as he takes her arm; they move with the same purposeful quiet that got them to the cloakroom at the Ritz. Again no one notices them in the crowd, or on the hushed street outside.
This time there’s no door to lock, no space to insulate to hold in their sounds. All the same, they’re alone, unseen, a single shadow against the side of the building.
Aziraphale leans back, his Inverness cape keeping him cushioned against the chill of the night and the bricks of the building. His hands find Crowley’s hips and draw her close, gently.
“I find myself very inspired,” he murmurs, the steam of his breath caressing her face even as it vanishes, “to tell you exactly what I want to do to you, when we get home.”
It's exactly what I wanted!! Have an affectionate snake who will likely swoon. ;)
Date: 2019-12-24 01:30 am (UTC)Not that she'll refuse to follow his lead regardless. He has the reins tonight, mostly--Crowley is still smug about the cloakroom diversion--and besides, why not?
It is cold. But quiet, despite other theatregoers having a smoke or getting some air. And Crowley is of course more than happy for Aziraphale to put his hands on her hips and pull her in.
It's not quite an embrace. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, his breath teases at her face as he speaks. Crowley manages not to blush. "Oh?" she says, carefully casual, trying to hide how her heart skips. This is playing dirty, and Aziraphale knows it. "I take it we're not discussing hot toddies and nightcaps here?"
Exactly what I wanted! :D
Date: 2019-12-24 02:01 am (UTC)His hands flex on her waist; he leans in close to put his mouth by her ear. From a distance, if anyone were to notice his beatific expression, one might assume he’s murmuring tender endearments to her.
“I want to start the very moment we’re inside with the door locked. Mostly because I can tell your nipples have been hard all evening, and I’m looking forward to the sound you make when I taste them.” His tongue darts gently against her earlobe. “You’ve been imagining it too. My mouth on you. Kissing. Biting. Having you for dessert.”
I have so been wanting to use this icon.
Date: 2019-12-24 02:23 am (UTC)Crowley's hands are trembling where they rest on his Inverness Cape. She tries to glower at them so they'll stop, but then Aziraphale's tongue touches her ear lightly, lightly, lightly, and Crowley realizes not trembling is a completely lost cause. "Maybe," she says, aiming for noncommittal and not even hitting the white bit of the target. "Thought you'd had dessert, though. Two of them, even."
HEHEHEHEHEHEH. <3
Date: 2019-12-24 02:56 am (UTC)He can feel her trembling, and his thumbs stroke over the curve of her waist, soft and steady.
“First your breasts, and then when I lay you down in our bed, I’ll pin your thighs apart and lick you open.” He inhales slowly, as if he’s breathing in the scent of her from between her legs. “Mm... I love the taste of you, wet on my tongue.”
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Date: 2019-12-24 01:51 pm (UTC)"...yeah?" she manages, not altogether coherently. No, wait, she shouldn't make this so easy. He'll win in the end, it's a foregone conclusion, but she shouldn't make it this easy for him. Crowley swallows, stands a little taller. "Thought we were by the front door a moment ago. How'd we get to the bed already?" When in doubt, go for pedantry.
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Date: 2019-12-24 02:55 pm (UTC)“Oh, we’ll probably need a miracle. To spare you from having to take the stairs. Though I could always simply have you on the sofa...”
His hands tighten gently on her hips, the way they might if she were riding him, hidden in the warm and intimate space beneath their coats. I’ve got you.
“Either way,” he almost purrs, “we’ll find you a spot to lie down...” Again his tongue darts out, this time a gentle brush at her neck. “...so I can kiss your quim very, very thoroughly. Lick your lips apart, slowly, so slowly, and then when you’re almost begging—”
His lips brush lightly at her ear, his voice dropping even further, a rough whisper.
“You can feel it, can’t you? My tongue, between your legs, drawing little circles on your clitoris?”
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Date: 2019-12-24 03:03 pm (UTC)"Yes." It's a hiss more than a word. "Fuck, yes." She squeezes her thighs together in an attempt to relieve a bit of the growing ache there, and it does nothing. Crowley groans her frustration aloud, swaying a little in his gentle grip. "Angel--"
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From:Crowley would like to strongly endorse having her clothes ripped off
From:Soon enough, no worries
From:Okay so my Crowley is more sub than dom, though she can switch.
From:My Aziraphale's a switch who enjoys being a bastard, so I think this works out nicely.
From:It certainly does.
From:A does love peril/rescue foreplay (because of course), but with that part over he's quite flexible!
From:Anytime he wants to roleplay, Crowley is up for it. Especially redoing certain events from theirpast
From:...is a trip to the Bastille in the near future? >:D
From:The chains did suggest interesting possibilities. Though also, Rome. Or Sherwood? ;)
From:Both is good! Maybe some pirate/highwayman stuff too.
From:Crowley wants to be a dragon who's kidnapped a Princess because of course he does
From:holy shit yes please. A would even go femme for that.
From:Too much for header, see below..
From:HA! I heard the Cats movie is a living nightmare. Also TA-DAAAAAA.
From:Haven't seen it but the reviews are hilarious. Also crowley.exe has crashed.
From:I’ve heard “bewilderingly horny” a lot. Also AWWWW bluescreen demon.
From:I can't imagine the film is more fun than the reviews. Loving them. And ohhh yes. Kinda broke him.
From:And the ring hasn’t even come up yet!
From:Forget bluescreen of death. That's hard drive catching on fire territory.
From:“Whoops, your hard drive is on fire, better rip your clothes off!”
From:She's too shaken for ripping atm. Better save that one for another thread. =) (pity, I love ripping)
From:Time enough for clothes-ripping. ;) (see princess/dragon below...)
From:It does have possibilities! But gaaah still need to get back to Sherwood!
From:Take your time! :D also welcome to this headcanon.
From:Yay headcanon! There are a few other threads I think I owe you too. Inbox is a mess.
From:I know that feeling. I owe you some, I think!
From:No worries, of course. =) And gonna blatantly plagerize myself with this but I liked it so there.
From:I love it and so does Aziraphale.
From:I just love this image I came up with for making a ring? (didn't cut and paste, just reused idea) :)
From:It is fantastic and don’t worry, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t recycle good images!
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From:"Make of our hands one hand, make of our hearts one heart."
From:And now… a swing at trueform?
From:yessssssssssssssssssssssss also spot the gratuitous Marvell quote I love that poem
From:don’t. don’t look at the time stamp. HI.
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