the-prince-of-pigs asked:
agent-jaselin answered:
I thought it’d be fun to do a public bath, which led to this being much more complicated than I meant.
jesus would do it
i dont take constructive criticism
y’all always asking why but never “why not” 😔😔😔
also:
BOLD WORDS FOR SOMEONE NAMED @crowleybottoms DSJKFLEJFKLE
You can’t blame Crowley for taking up Aziraphale’s offer. The first time since the dawn of creation that an angel offers to lead a demon into temptation, and he’s supposed to, what, say “nah?”
Nah, he’s going to plop right down at the bar of Petronius’ new restaurant and let the angel order a half-dozen oysters.
“If you want more, we could get the full dozen.”
“The fu—I came to try an oyster, what are you talking about a full dozen for?”
The angel laughs, a little condescending. “Oh, no, there’s three different kinds. You must try each at least once.”
“Now, that wasn’t in the fine print. How deceptive of you.”
“No, it’s not. I’m only presuming you’d be curious for all three. You can have the first with no strings attached and I will eat the rest if I must.”
“Oh, if you must, how generous.”
“You’re welcome.” The way he says it, Crowley can’t tell if Aziraphale’s really good at dishing back as much as he gets or if he obliviously accepts that as a compliment.
The bartender sets an ornate platter between them. Crowley has seen plenty of humans gorging on oysters before, tilting them up to eager lips and wiping juice from their chin before dropping the shells with a clatter. Aesthetically, he approves of anything that looks a little dirty and lots of fun. This is the first time he gets a proper, up close look at a plate of the stuff, though. For the first time, he notices the iridescent watercolors that line the inner edges of each gorgeously dark, ruffled shell. He picks one up and tilts it to watch the way the sun plays on the bright inner shell.
As he does, a tiny sprinkle of liquid pours out of the shell and soaks his robe.
“Mine just pissed on me.”
“It’s only saltwater. Some people think it tastes better without it,” Aziraphale tries to reassure him. Except that he can’t help adding, “They are wrong, though. Do you want to switch? You can’t muck up your very first oyster like this.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the oyster from Crowley. Unfazed, Crowley picks up a new one more carefully. The meat at the center drifts gently in its shell with each movement of his hand.
“You really like this goo?”
“It isn’t goo, it’s a living thing and it is beautiful.”
“A living—It’s alive? Right now?”
“Well…” Aziraphale’s gaze floats to the ceiling for a second, clearly searching for a way to skirt around or soften the answer. He winds up just going with, “Yes.”
“That’s barbaric, isn’t it?”
“There is nothing uncivilized about eating raw food. You could argue that it’s purer, actually.”
“You eat these things whole—guts, excrements, and all—while they are still alive, and you kill it with your own teeth—”
“Don’t chew it that much! Just a little bit, very gently.”
“Oh, so it’s probably still alive when it starts being digested? That’s even worse. There are so many layers of abjection to this. Who was the first weirdo to try this slime and then decide to market it as food? I like their style.”
Somewhere in the world, Famine smiles.
In the seat next to Crowley, Aziraphale’s looking exasperated. “You are a snake, how can you possibly be disturbed by that?”
“No, no, I love being disturbed, I wanna try it even more now. Nothing says, hell yeah, I’m a demon, like devouring raw, living flesh.”
“You’ll make me lose my appetite, talking like that at the table.”
“You already knew it’s sort of nasty. You had to be shocked that someone even thought to do it.”
“I find a degree of admiration that someone thought to do it. It is because of such fearless curiosity that mankind has discovered so many of nature’s secrets,” Aziraphale valiantly insists.
“Some secrets are horrible.”
“You don’t know whether they will be horrible or wonderful before you’ve uncovered them yourself.”
A secret neither Aziraphale nor Crowley knows is that, later, oysters will be called fruits de mer—the ocean’s fruit. Perhaps the fruit of the sea can bring knowledge as the fruit of Eden once did. Whether he likes it or not, Crowley is in the company of an angel he feels treacherously compelled to be accepted by. He doesn’t care for food, never has, but there is so much Crowley wants to prove that is pointless to prove at this point. He can settle for proving that he makes enjoyable company.
Chapters: 3/?
Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: butter tarts, nanaimo bars, rather inexpert seduction, crowley is an idiot, Aziraphale is also an idiot, Lemony Narrator, Demons who Love, Work In Progress, so little things may shift and change!, I think this is mostly the TV boys, Angels who Want, post-armageddidn’t
Summary:
Crowley’s in love with one of the Good Guys.
And the Good Guy in question adores butter tarts with an unseemly passion. Enough to speak wistfully of them when they aren’t around. Enough to ask Crowley to drive at ridiculous speeds across miles of English countryside to storm a bake sale, taking no prisoners. Enough to devour the butter tarts on the way home, leaving crumbs on the seat of Crowley’s car (the car hadn’t minded terribly, which was unusual in itself). And enough to leave one for Crowley, saying archly, “Perhaps after you actually try it, you’ll understand.”
Crowley is now glumly staring at this butter tart, letting its flavour spread across his forked tongue, and thinking: How do I become a butter tart?
***
New chapter: butter tarts are sweet, rare, ‘Too Much’, and addictive. This time around, Crowley will try rare.
Aziraphale, sharing a bed with Crowley:
Imagination: a soft yawn, a long-bodied stretch; the flutter of lashes; a hint of yellow, and Crowley peers up at Aziraphale, smiling the tiniest smile; good morning, my darling, he whispers
Reality: Crowley is drooling on the pillow and it is melting
chequerootlurks
I’m an apprentice tattoo artist. An artist who owns a few shops invited me to their team.
I’ve got a long way to go. I’m still learning basic shading techniques. Working with a tattoo pen adds depth to the traditional flat plane I’m used to working on.
One is never too old to learn a new skill.
At times I feel like a complete newb.
So, here is a meme that I love. I’m sharing it for everyone who is learning something new.
