#i don't like fics that contain the show counterparts because I don't like the show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wormlips · 6 months ago

Note

The way I got into Thramsay, I was frightened at the thought of reading ff about them, even though I shipped the guys from Killing stalking — arguably not as whumpy. But, they were the most toxic pairing I’d shipped, up until that point. I had only ever watched GoT too, till recently. I thought the fanfiction would be darker, I think. But I was still intrigued, cause I did draw them on one occasion. Then like 5 years later, I came to check this tag on a whim, and had such a visceral reaction to some fanart on here. Long story short, I now strangely ship three pairings where one half of the ship kidnapped (“kidnapped”) the other. And two where one character has .. lost some bits. *whispers* how are there two?? 💀

Yeah it's funny how you can tell yourself 'im just going to take a quick look' and then fall head-first into things. like you never saw it coming but suddenly it's a part of your life

or dismissing a thing only to return years later and realize that it was right up your alley all along

Your ask made me write even more because like you I hadn’t shipped anything on thramsay's level before so i didnt have a good frame of reference what it might have been like but i were intrigued too and it's cathartic putting into words what i think makes them so captivating to me

I definitely had interest in toxic relationships with abusive and dark elements in it long before but none where one of them had literally removed body parts from the other. I think Ive always been on the softer side so I need (needed? Idk if i do currently) some sort of mutual feelings even if it is irrational or non genuine like people who cant help but still love someone who hurts them or the reverse - loves someone but cant keep from hurting them. The DA fic kind of pushed that to its limits but it contained some sort of lingering sentimentality amidst graphic descriptions of flaying and i was thinking you can do that??? Though in that fic the torturer had been corrupted by magic so their relationship had been normal at one point which separates it from thramsay. but it had been proven to me that ppl could justify* ”love” in horrible conditions that is interesting to read and i should stop writing but i went into thramsay fics to find out if someone had done so (also whatever else, i was fucking around to find out)

It just hits the spot i ❤️ characters being conflicted about their lover and i want to be unable to tell if the ”love” they feel for their counterpart is actually something else

even though i'm not particularly into show-verse thramsay anymore the best example i can give is the infamous bathing scene where ramsay asks if reek loves him and reek says of course with full conviction and it's like obviously it isn't true though reek might feel like he does because he has conditioned himself to have that response, he brainwashed himself to cope and for safety because he has to believe so ramsay can't find out he's lying but then if he thinks he feels it so much that he does............? how do we define real vs fake love an-... whatever i'm going too far we don't need a philosophical discussion of this rn

you can make it worse by switching between him being self aware of all this to fully believing he's always been ramsay's, the way he slips back into theon's thinking patterns in the book from reek's and anything inbetween until you have toxic sludge on your hands and furthest thing from a normal, healthy relationship

and even more fun if you do the same to ramsay, it doesn't have to be real love but it's such a clingy obsession and dependency, mutual belonging and the idea that he will always return so his closeness, his whispers will be likened to that of a lover because what else is there to compare it to *there's probably a better way i could put it but by justify i mean the author writing something that makes sense from the character's point of view. i don't want to be misconstrued

#wormlips.txt #ask #i did read all of killing stalking too btw due to it reminding me of thramsay #it didn't stick and i felt the same with every other ship that's similar #nothing gets close to thramsay unfortunately

8 notes · View notes

slashthrashandcrash · 10 months ago

Note

Alright!! Let's say that the Other is pulled into the Fog, who would be the survivor counterpart to his killer? Option 1: Natalie, who he never kills and is now in an endless loop of cat and mouse with as well as other residents catching onto his obsession and only sparing her in the trials (maybe even going after killers who harm / kill her in their own trials). Option 2: Brooke, who is in a never-ending cycle of escape and be killed, and is always the target of the Other. (1 / 2)

Anon you're mind is simply so beautiful I want to live in it forever oh my god........................

First of all, can we acknowledge how absolutely bitchin' it would be to have a Hell Fest map??? Like if instead of being open in a themed field/neighborhood, it was all contained in a never ending haunted house maze????? I'd lose my mind. I would also lose my life several times because I have no sense of direction lmao.

God, both options are so good, especially with their angst potential. Because don't forget, The Other has kids, two of 'em. I can't imagine what additional damage that's going to do to his mind to know that they're abandoned and alone.

BUT LET'S START WITH OPTION ONE...I actually read a really similar fic for DBD Michael and Laurie! (inb4 anyone asks NO they were NOT siblings ofc he was just a slasher horny on main for a pretty girl). It's one of those observed patterns that people can be slow to pick up on simply because they can't believe it's real, and doubly so since there's plenty of survivors to rotate through. It's easy to use Nat as bait to lure The Other away for the survivors to escape first, just as easy as it is for The Other to use wounded survivors to lure Nat over to help so he can scoop her up himself. Yeah, he always lets her go at the exit and gets punished by The Entity for it, but he's pretty damn good in the other trails without Nat, so it all evens out.

It's also fun to imagine the downtime between trials, where Nat and The Other would have the option to leave their respective camps and roam around their designated "worlds" before the next game. Honestly, it feels like the cat and mouse never ends for Natalie, poor girl >:3c Nowhere she goes is safe from this psycho watching her. She almost prefers the trials when it's a random killer and she dies, because at least then she can appreciate the relief of being out of the hunt. But it also gives them a bit of time to become a little more...casual around each other. Nat's going to have to cycle through her stages of grief and eventually accept her new reality, where at least there's one killer that isn't looking to gut her. She's not happy still, but at least she doesn't flinch away anymore when The Other gives her his jacket because she's sulking in the cold for having lost a trial.

Option two is so fucking angst ridden though, it's unbelievable. It's not often you have more than one legit final girl, and I can imagine The Other being beyond pissed that he has to be stuck with the girl he wasn't able to kill in time rather than the girl he was actually stalking all night. I wonder if The Entity would give Brooke a similar "deal" that she has to survive a certain number of games in order to be reunited with Nat as a reward. It may be his final girl, but that's HER (literal) ride or die best friend forever, the idea of being separated and trapped with your bestie's slasher has to break her heart.

And The Other makes no show of hiding his distain of Brooke either. She's never shown any mercy, in fact he's the most ruthless with her. He'll ignore easy targets just to keep her knocked down, only hooking her at the very end so she has to suffer through her wounds the whole trial. He'll be damned if he doesn't reach the "quota" in record time to get the girl of his dreams. Obviously, the deal is likely rigged and neither of them would ever actually earn the reward of having Nat back, but imagine if somehow, someway...she did show up?

Never permanently, just periodically coming and going during some kind of glitch-in-the-matrix-slipping-through-the-backrooms type of deal due to how strongly she's connected to the two of them. Finally figuring out where her best friend has disappeared to, seeing what absolute hell she and other people are trapped in and trying to find a way to rescue her, and coming face to face once again with a murderer who will now stop at nothing to keep her here in the trails with him forever. The added threat that because she's not a survivor or a killer, if she dies, then that's it - permadeath.

#ask #anon #the other x natalie #slasher x final girl #natalie #the other #hell fest #hell fest 2018 #this AU is so fucking good anon thank you

11 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @devondespresso <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

twenty-two!

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

161,121

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Lately, it's been stranger things, but I've published fanfic for The Magicians, The Untamed, Sweet Home, Alice in Borderland, Naruto, The Penumbra Podcast, and I Am In Eskew.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the path to peace (is paved with good intentions)

Hearth-Warmed Chakra

rinsed vision and second chances

Secrets Never Meant to Be Kept

I could say grace was a woman with time on her hands

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually!!! Sometimes, I'll get behind by not responding for like a year though, and then I'll be like.......it's been too long.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't necessarily do angsty endings, but probably "a matter of going through" because it ends with heavily implied reconciliation that doesn't quite get actualized.

7. What the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I ALSO don't tend to do like, cookie-cutter happy endings. Usually I go for the, everything's still hard but we'll get through it together, endings. But probably, the path to peace (is paved with good intentions).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I got that one weird anon I mentioned for the Upside-Down AU, and then I got one person on one of my fics where a pizza delivery driver falls in love with a customer telling me that it was problematic because the driver has no agency. And I was like, lol this is fanfiction and I AM a delivery driver.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written exactly ONE unpublished smut fic for Alice Quinn from The Magicians in which her evil counterpart came through the mirror and they fucked about it. I'm thinking of doing a one-shot smut fic for the Upside-Down AU though.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Closest I've gotten is me and a friend plotting out the unholy union of I Am In Eskew and The Penumbra Podcast (Juno Steel).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully, nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, my most popular Naruto fanfic was translated to Russian!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I've never gotten past the fucked up world-building stage with friends. Could be fun though.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

As an aromantic person, the platonic ships are usually more important to me. First ones that come to mind are platonic stobin, and from the Untamed, Jiang Cheng & Wei Wuxian who are brothers. Honestly, I usually get sucked into romantic pairings because I'm like, wow, sure would love to see these two interract more! And then all the fanfic is romantic, so that's what I read!!!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Definitely my one where Jiang Cheng from The Untamed sees ghosts. If you've watched that show, you understand how this would be both hilarious and deeply fucked up.

16. What are your writing stregths?

I think I'm pretty good at little moments. Like when everyone is having a meal together etc, small, contained scenes.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting from point A to point B, like, how do I skip through time without if seeming weird????? So, joining sentences?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've never done it, but I think it can serve its purpose. Unless you speak the language though, I think it can veer into offensive and clunky unless you get a translator.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Magicians, which broke my soul enough that I wrote a crack fic about it.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

My favorite is always my current obsession, so Upside-Down AU lol, but from what's published, it's definitely two million naturally occuring sweet things which is just a tretius on grief masquerading as a soup recipe.

tagging: @wynnyfryd @rogueddie @steddierthings @altschmerzes if any of you want to do it!

#tag game #koko thinkin thots #i am a chronic jumper around of fandoms #like not leaving just hoping between the same four lol

5 notes · View notes

ruiniel · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, dearie~ Apologies for the random Ask, but am curious as to your thoughts on a particular subject (and… may or may not need them for fic reasons 🤐): Does Alucard actually consume blood? Human and/or animal.

Aside from those stores in his keep under Gresit (which are… bizarre in and of themselves, honestly 🤔) and a comment to Trevor about 'killing and eating' him which could be interpreted in different ways, there doesn't appear to be that much canonical evidence to support the idea. Took my noob ponderings to the world wide web, but with little success. Most offered info from his game counterpart, which states that he apparently has consumed in the past but dislikes the taste? 🤔 If correct, one could fill in the gaps with info from similar sources as such, of course, but I personally still enjoy reading others' takes on the question. 😁

And it's naturally a fun idea that the fandom seems to eat up; him drinking from his partner 'cause c'mon, you have a half-VAMPIRE boyfriend/husband! Bu~ut, what if he doesn't like blood? What would the reason be? HAS he perhaps consumed in the past but no longer does? Share with me your wisdom!... Please. If it's not too much trouble. 😊

Hi! Finally got to this, thanks for asking! This'll be a long-ish one.

From your note I take it we're mainly interested in 'show-canon' here, and that’s the lens I’ll filter this through but I'll refer to other media from the Castlevania universe on this topic.

Yes, as you wrote, the show-verse interpretation of him has some references to hematophagy:

The presence of these in Alucard's private Keep:

Considering Alucard was in pretty bad shape after the first confrontation with Drac, and IF we assume those contain blood, it seems implied it was used in some manner as part of a healing/reanimation system OR, maybe, as sustenance during his Sleep ... The provenance of it? We (I) don't know, the show doesn't focus on that.

Alucard heals speedily when wounded as evidenced in the show a few times, and the fact that the chest scar remains after Dracula fights him in season I suggests to me just how close to kicking the bucket he might've been, if we think about who wounded him in the first place. So, maybe this was a one time case of needing this extra support? But don't know. In the speculation business here.

Just a fun thing, they make me think of these health bars in the games:

2. Again as you mentioned, the 'kill you and eat you' banter. It's hard to tell but my take is Alucard simply played on Trevor's preconceptions there to get a laugh out of it, since he was aware of the prophecy as shown when he asks Sypha here 'do you know the whole story?'

(can we pause to appreciate Sypha's blush for a moment aww)

And (I think) that when he saw them and heard their reason for coming, he likely knew, hence the 'do you care, Belmont?' questions. But he's a bastard(affectionate) and why not test a Belmont out because he can.

3. Adding what he told Sumi and Taka in season III:

Now, the statement might've been an extrapolation as a part of training, but do with that what you will.

It's a fun idea to eat up(har har) because blood drinking, or the symbolism of it - taking of one’s life force, has often been depicted as having a sensual side in certain literature genres and other media if the intent is not murderous (aka not a 'drink them dry' situation). It represents a physical and visceral connection between the (usually) willing giver and taker on a much deeper level than other pleasurable physical interactions let's say. It involves a huge amount of trust from one party, and the validation of that trust by the other.

I won't go into the wider discussion of the vampire myth origins and how it changed from its folkloric roots around the 19th century, though there is a lot to say. But the concept of vampirism has been around for millennia - as far back as Mesopotamia. Suffice to add that the contemporary Lestat-Dracula-Alucard types, the elegant, decadently flawless depictions of the vampire are a product of literary works gaining popularity at the time (rotting thanks to John Polidori, Sheridan Le Fanu and the like). Also! The term dhampir is not a Castlevania invention, but has its origins in Balkan folklore, with the same meaning.

Most offered info from his game counterpart, which states that he apparently has consumed in the past but dislikes the taste? 🤔 If correct, one could fill in the gaps with info from similar sources as such, of course

Right! The gameverse/Castlevania universe has some other references to it too, some I remember:

In SOTN he can activate a spell called dark metamorphosis, which in summary heals him if coming in contact with (enemies') blood

Soul steal is another spell in the games that Alucard (and Dracula) can master, which is just that: healing by draining 'souls'/the life energy of those around them, dealing damage and healing themselves.

While neither of these are straight up 'blood drinking' they follow the trail of vampirism - draining the vital essence of the living.

And since we're here, lumping this together. A spinoff radio drama (Japanese) taking place after SOTN events deals strongly with Alucard and hematophagy. In Nocturne of Recollection Maria Renard is living with Alucard after the SOTN events (... nothing suggested they’re in a romantic relationship, mind you, at least it didn't seem like it to me).

The Villain of the story (incubus Magnus) appears to Maria and suggests Alucard won’t be able to control his thirst at one point around her, saying something like (paraphrasing) “why do you think he keeps a human around”.

She doesn’t believe him, but then asks Alucard about it, who admits he has consumed human blood in the past, but obviously doesn’t anymore. In the past he turned an old servant/friend (Lyudmil) into a vampire, which is strongly implied. It's also suggested that he struggled with his vampirism and legacy. I like to reference these bits in any ‘dhampir turns someone’ fic since it’s still in the Castlevania universe and Why Not.

Going back to the animated show, I’ve seen (and used) some common tropes in CV series fanfic:

drinks blood in dire circumstances: he’s gravely injured, usually beyond healing abilities for some reason and someone offers up blood to help him heal/get back on his feet

Sensual, usually blood kink/blood play, mostly in smutfic

My headcanon of show-verse Alucard is he can drink blood, but he doesn’t need to, since we've of course seen him eat plain ol' human food. Nor is he interested, I see him presented as leaning more towards the human side of his legacy here. Anyway, this was the mile-long ramble, I likely missed some things but in the end it's up to you how you want to interpret it as an author, how much you want to keep to the fandom universe or expand beyond it.

I'm a strong proponent of 'it's canon if it works for me' in fanfiction writing tbh, and I've written AU show-verse Alucard drinking blood for various reasons/with various effects. Looking forward to how you apply it for fic purposes!

#txt

13 notes · View notes

mandysimo13 · 5 years ago

Note

hey! you wanted those prompts. how about: "i don't want to be just friends"? (good omens/ineffable husbands, pls)

Ooooooooh yesssssssssss, @ina-k, you speakin’ my language! This is now also a fic on AO3, so please be sure to pop a kudos or comment on it, lovelies!

///~\\\

Two weeks after the Apocalypse-that-Wasn’t, the Nope-pocalypse, the Armaged-dud, the Ragnar-Went-Wrong, two celestial beings found themselves in a familiar setting, in familiar bodies, feeling decidedly unfamiliar with a variety of new feelings.

First and foremost was relief - relief that the world was, in fact, not over. Relief that there were still ducks to feed, crepes to eat, and plants to spritz and terrorize.

Secondly there was a feeling of directionless. They had not so much mislaid their intended purposes as much as they yeeted them into the heavens whilst flipping the bird for good measure. For the first time, since the dawn of time, neither of them could feel the little niggling tug that told them to cause mischief and to spread grace. Doing either seemed to them like going through the well oiled and practiced motions of blessing and tempting and it made them wonder what the point of it all was.

Third, and most surprisingly considering their shared aimlessness, was a sense of urgency. Like there would be another Gotcha! moment and that the armies they had pissed off would be back with a vengeance and that there wouldn’t be enough time.

“Enough time for what” is a perfectly acceptable question and one that both angel and demon would rather not have to answer, though both answers would be the same. They both wanted desperately to find their courage and scream I love you, I chose you, stay with me, pick our side every day for the rest of existence, all you need to do is speak and your will be done by my hands. But, you see, courage is a tricky thing. It comes and goes unexpectedly, even though it comes in times when all the signs and motifs and themes and histories tell you to expect it. Courage came for them when they faced down Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Satan. It filled their ribcages with fire and moved their hands, making them feel about as powerful as when Herself created the whole world. But then it seeped out of them, slowly and then all at once, leaving them deflated, tired, and with an irony flavor in the back of their throats.

Now, when courage was needed most sorely, it sat back with a glass of wine watching the scene unfold and wishing for popcorn.

The scene, in question, was Aziraphale and Crowley sitting in the intimate and well loved back room of Aziraphale’s “bookshop”. More parlour than back room, it contained the things it had always contained, plus a few extras thanks to Adam and his reshuffling of the universe. Before the End-Times-that-Wasn’t, the angel and demon would sit close but separate, always on separate pieces of furniture but close enough to touch should the occasion call for it. But in the After the pair decided that since they had shared bodies perhaps they could share a couch. Backs leant up against the armrests, knees turned towards each other as they lounged thoroughly drunk on the choice wine of the evening, they conversed as they ever did.

“I’m telling you, koalas are the most useless lump of fur on the damn planet,” Crowley exclaimed, gesticulating with his glass.

Aziraphale tutted and made a swishy swat motion in the air to bat away the, to him, unfair comment. “They’re adorable creatures! What with their big noses and their soft fur-”

“Their rampant chlamydia, their toxic bodies from eating toxic leaves-”

“They don’t all have chlamydia,” Aziraphale, defended.

Crowley scoffed, “enough of them do. And ya know, nothing eats them either!”

“Why would you want to eat a koala?”

“Exactly my point!”

Aziraphale began to laugh at that, slinking further into the couch as his body shook with ridiculous mirth. His knees slid along the couch until they bumped up against Crowley’s (not that that meant anything, it was a rather small couch). Joy and drink making him comfortable, he was reluctant to remove himself from Crowley’s space. A quick glance saw that Crowley had relaxed further as well, joining him in laughter, and looked to be in no hurry to part their small connection.

Giggles eventually turned into happy silence, renewed glasses of wine, and lingering looks over the tops of said glasses.

Crowley, glasses firmly placed upon the bridge of his nose, looked his fill without exposure. He watched as Aziraphale’s face creased with his smile, perfectly angelic in appearance, radiating love and happiness in such amounts that even Crowley could feel it.

It was said that demons were not meant to feel love, that they had lost the ability to feel love when they fell. The truth of it was that they were able to feel love but it was often drowned out by the forced feeling of the absence of love. Her love. The love of her creations. Her love permeated everything from the grass, the oceans, the people, even the fucking koalas - though they had a funny way of showing it by literally showering one with chlamydia. Crowley could feel the Absence so acutely in every stare from a human who could feel somewhere in their primordial makeup that he was meant to be unforgivable, unfathomable, unlovable. Since the invention of sunglasses things had been a bit better, he could sometimes shrug off that feeling for a time. When the one real tell of demonic-ness was hidden, it took longer for people to catch on. He knew the other demons mocked him for his glasses, for hiding away his traits, but he figured they were just jealous because it was easier to hide snake eyes than it was to hide a persistent cloud of flies and the inherent smell of poo.

But when he looked at Aziraphale, especially after the End Times ended, love radiated so strongly that he thought that, maybe, he could be forgiven and thought and loved. But even with the evidence wafting about his being like waves on a shore, he second guessed it. Aziraphale was a being of love, he loved everyone and everything regardless of their deserving of it. Unlike his counterparts who got caught up in the bureaucracy of it all, all the “who’s what’s where’s when’s why’s and how’s”, Aziraphale did everything just because he knew that somewhere along the line his actions would give pleasure and happiness, and not just for himself. What may seem gluttonous in a plate of crepes was actually a desire to make sure a local creperie, run by a Senegalese couple, would stay in business despite the hike in rent. What may seem prideful in buying an extensive wardrobe was really a way to ensure that the true art of tailoring never died, that there was always someone ready to pass down the knowledge of the old traditions, even if the tone changed with the times. He knew that Aziraphale felt bad occasionally for his indulgences but, even if it wasn’t obviously to himself, Crowley could see the angelic intent behind it all.

Which is why he couldn’t read too much into anything Aziraphale said or did around him. Sure, he was often prickly with him and had often insisted they weren’t friends, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He had been unfailingly kind to Crowley from the very beginning, raising his own wing to shield them both from the rain as they watched the first two humans trudge away from paradise. He knew that Aziraphale loved him but what did that really mean when he loved everything?

So, instead of gathering courage to speak, to declare, to move towards something, he sat and watched the angel giggle to himself, cheeks red with joy and wine.

He could watch that face forever.

Aziraphale finally caught him staring, his glasses slipped down his nose without his permission or notice, and his expression changed to something unbearably fond and concerned. “Is everything alright, dear?”

Dear, his heart clenched at the old endearment. Slowly, hand shaking slightly, Crowley pushed his glasses up to where they belonged. “Why would it not be,” he asked.

“You just...you seemed lost.”

Lost in you, he didn’t say. Instead, he shrugged and took a sip of wine. “Seems like we’re both a little lost. Having no bosses, no one to answer to, no agendas, having freedom. It all seems to be a little overwhelming, no?”

Understanding filled Aziraphale’s face and he sat up a little straighter. He scooted just a bit closer, unwilling to part their knees from each other for the time being. “It does, doesn’t it. I’ve never really considered the consequences of freedom. Always seemed like something for only Her mortal creations and not for us.” He looked at him openly, questioningly, “what does one do with freedom?”

Crowley licked his lips, eyes cast down towards his glass and missing how Aziraphale tracked the movement of his tongue. “I suppose it’s up to us to make our own agenda.” He looked up and smiled at him, hoping to bring back their easy, happy glow from before. “Can’t be harder than making our Own Side, can it?” He chuckled, hoping that would sell it and make Aziraphale smile once more.

Instead, it made Aziraphale lean closer in curiosity. “What...what’s on your agenda, Crowley?”

Blinking, immediately uncomfortable with the direction they were headed, Crowley leaned back as casually as he could. “What makes you think I have one?

Aziraphale smiled, then. “My dear boy, I have known you for over 6000 years. And if there’s one thing I do know about you is that you always have an agenda.” He huffed a brief chuckle and added, “even if you don’t have a plan for it yet.”

If Crowley were being honest he would tell Aziraphale how his agenda included nothing other than walks through parks, holidays to wherever was warm and sunny and abundant with good food, talks of books and plants and frivolous topics, and doing all he could to make the angel keep choosing him, them, until God Herself chose to end the world. But he wasn’t planning on being honest so instead he asked him, “what is your agenda, then?”

“To live,” Aziraphale said simply. “To really, truly live and enjoy all the things I’ve done, have yet to do, and yearn to do.” He smiled shyly then, shifting back a bit, and added, “I’d love for you to be there, too, Crowley.”

Crowley’s eyelashes fluttered against the glasses pressed close to his face as his blinked rapidly in surprise. He hoped he wasn’t too drunk and unable to keep his face cool. “Really? You’d want me there with you on all your post-heaven adventures?”

Aziraphale’s voice was full of excitement meaning to assure him. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends!” Then he said softer, love dripping from him, “the best of friends. Of course I would want you there.”

Despite himself, Crowley’s eyes became wet with an unasked for wave of emotion. He felt a lump in his throat at that threatened to choke him, if breathing was at all necessary for him. Without stopping to think he said, “what if...” He hesitated, feeling that creep of something monumental happening between them. He felt that same creep when something told him to wake up the 18th century because Aziraphale was lonely. He felt it when Aziraphale had taken a leap he didn’t want to make, for his sake, and handed over that thermos full to the brim with his “insurance policy” and he had asked the angel to tell him how to repay the favor. He felt it when Aziraphale threatened to never speak to him again.

Courage was back. Most rudely and inopportunely. There was no way to sober and restart the conversation and not lose the...something that was there and bubbling between them. Fuck.

Aziraphale swallowed, his throat bobbing. Hesitantly, he repeated, prompting Crowley to finish his thought, “what if?”

Fuck it. All or nothing, Anthony J. Crowley. Both feet, nose closed, hope for the best. “What if I don’t want to be just friends.”

Aziraphale sucked in gasp, shock on his face and Crowley couldn’t help feel like he had fucked up royally. That he had ruined everything beyond repair and that he would spent the rest of damned eternity alone. His tears finally spilled over and ran down his cheeks and Aziraphale said a soft, gentle “oh” and Crowley felt like death would be less painful.

Aziraphale reached out to his cheek and Crowley ducked his head, trying to avoid the contact. But backed against the couch and heavy with the weight of his confession, he was unable to move and Aziraphale closed a gap between them, palm coming to rest on Crowley’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the salt of his tears.

He opened his mouth to say forget it, it’s stupid, I know I moved to fast, I’ll stop it, I’ll be good, good for you, I’ll give you all the room and space you need, just don’t forsake me, don’t leave me alone, but was stopped by a finger pressed to his lips. He opened his eyes to see the one being in 6000 years who had ever given a damn about him looking at him with awe and such overwhelming love that he physically hurt. Beneath his ribs his vestigial heart beat faster and he braced himself. For what, he couldn’t say.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, voice shaky. The angel’s eyes watered as well, tears shining in the dim light and it made Crowley hurt even more to see what his words had done.

He tried to lessen the pain for them both, “just-”

“No! Don’t say anything. Unless it’s to tell me only good. Don’t,” Aziraphale choked on his plea. He physically swallowed around the lump in his throat and begged, “don’t take it back.”

“W-what?”

Aziraphale sighed and gently placed his forehead against Crowley’s. “I thought that I was too slow. That I had made you wait so long you could not possibly ever want me that way. That my own cowardice, my pride, had gotten in the way of the one thing I want most in this world.”

Crowley dropped the wine glass in his hands, caring not a whit for a stain that could be miracled away later, and clutched Aziraphale’s hands in his own. Trembling, not daring to believe, he asked, “what is it you want, Aziraphale?”

“You,” he said confidently and without shame. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. To acknowledge it. To feel its rightness.” He kissed Crowley’s forehead, lips lingering. “I can’t undo all the hurt I’ve caused but...let me try?”

Crowley tipped his head up to look at him and whispered, “oh, angel.” He pulled his glasses off, willfully sharing vulnerability, and said, “you have me. You always have. You could never lose me. Even if I had buggered off to Alpha Centuri all it would take is a snap of your fingers to bring me back. You have to know.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed. Then he chuckled wetly, “look at us. Blubbering like old fools.”

Crowley’s low laugh joined him. “We have been for a long time, angel.”

“May I...” Aziraphale hesitated, though logically he needn’t have. “May I do something I’ve been wanting to do since approximately 1941?”

“Anything.”

“May I kiss you?”

“You’d better,” Crowley said, barely getting the words out before he had a lapful of angel and lips pressed blessedly to his own.

Their first kiss was tinged with the salt of tears, first of sorrow then of relief. It was full of joy, thankfulness, and above all love. It seemed to go on forever, as if they were making up for lost time all at once.

When it finally ended Crowley said, breathlessly, “I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Crowley.”

Somehow they had ended up laying stretched out on the couch, Aziraphale atop Crowley while he snaked his arms around the angel’s middle like a vice. He stroked Aziraphale’s hair and asked, thinking of their previous conversation with a smile, “what else was on your agenda, angel?”

Aziraphale giggled, nuzzling his face into Crowley’s shoulder. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, indeed. Whatever you like, whenever you like, however you like. And,” he paused, tipping Aziraphale’s face up with a finger under his chin, “we can even start with dinner.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “That is an excellent place to start.”

Slowly, they detangled themselves from the couch and each other, never moving too far out of reach. They righted their creased clothes, sobered themselves and made their way to the Ritz which, incidentally, had a miraculous cancellation. Much like their first meal together after they both quit their respective sides, the meal was delicious and the conversation easy. Only this time, it was filled with plans that included the pair of them.

And for the second time in history, and this time heard by one lonely bum on a park bench, a nightingale sang in Berkley Square.

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #i can't even with these two!#love confessions #fic #tumblr prompts #thanks for this!#ina-k

28 notes · View notes