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@fellvaguely | continued from here | [text] also bringer's better at fetch than betsy it's a fucking travesty
( ✉ → sms ) Fetch is what he was named to do . Not necessarily for sticks and tennis balls , but I digress . ( ✉ → sms ) Thank you for ruining my hound’s ultimate purpose .
[text] look [text] it’s not my fault you weren’t more specific when naming him [text] i still think you should’ve called him company [text] btw misery’s pining for you
@fellvaguely | continued from here
crowley’s drunk . so’s robert , one whiskey and one wine bottle off to the wayside and substantially lesser liquid content in either . but what he’s found is that there’s fewer things more sobering than being pinned between a man and his couch , warm breath and grazing teeth on his neck . it feels good , undeniably , in every physical sense of the word. yet what remains is a sinking feeling in his gut , of the same sort every time he’s been used , exploited , taken advantage of …
you’re a tool , crowley . the thought echos from the recesses of his mind , a debilitating mantra he’s heard and practiced throughout the course of his existence . sue him for thinking it now , where his only purpose is to help someone get off .
“ robert … “ he hisses , the hands he slips between himself and the other’s chest giving both of them a bit of breathing room . his voice is wary , if not a little hurt — which, of course , he’d deny if asked . “ i know vice , and i know you must think of me a glaring beacon of sin , but … “ but what ? is he not ? he resents speaking his mind . never is taken seriously when he does . you’re a demon , crowley muses . demons can’t feel . it’s a joke . “ i’m not your outlet . a — a convenience . “
is it so wrong to want to be more than an object ? to hell , to PEOPLE … yes , he thinks . it is . what a world it’d be when demons deserve respect .
Robert tenses up immediately and stops. His only reliable talent is fucking up, and he’s probably already fundamentally fucked something up in whatever his strange friendship is with Crowley by doing this to him, by leaning in, kissing his neck, dragging his teeth over his pulse, but the ‘stop’ is clear. And he knows that word, respects it highly, and there’s no way he’ll fuck up even more by not listening to it.
Particularly not when there’s real hurt in that falter. In that hesitation.
Mentally kicking himself, he pulls back, only partially at first to look at Crowley’s face, but then he grunts and sits back against the couch and runs a hand through his hair. There’s a chill there without the body heat between them, but that has to be secondary to the sharp shift in the situation.
Good job, Rob. Fucking hell.
“Right”, he says, and makes a grab for the whiskey bottle again. He feels like shit. He needs something to do with his hands. “Sorry.”
Which really isn’t enough, but it’s not like he knows how to be a decent person anyway, so whatever.
buzzfeed unsolved // accepting.
@fellvaguely said: “ if you could do me a big solid and not do anything that would be sublime ”
“You don’t give orders here, Crowley,” she buzzes warningly, stepping closer to him. Not doing anything is not what the Prince of Hell is supposed to do. Ever. Especially when it concerns Armageddon. “We’ve been working on this for centuries and you will play your part, or I shall introduce you to Gut-Ripper. He’s our biggest and hungriest hound. You don’t want a closer acquaintance. Is that clear?”
@fellvaguely / mini sc.
“Technically I can’t do any of that.” She has no access to her void, either. Which is frustrating, and embarrassing. “I can tell you that he’s not anywhere close to where you’re looking, but my knowledge stopped updating the second I stepped down on earth. He could have been turned into a toad and I wouldn’t know! Isn’t that funny?”
“ okay , that was like — kinda RUDE , but okay ” her mouth scrunching in a grimace of disappointment : but can she really complain , when it’s her , usually , pissing people off ? “ —— and that’s ME saying that . ”
@fellvaguely / 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 ( 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 )
@fellvaguely liked for a starter from death
exuding an air of casual boredom as they regarded the creature before them, this demon who wanted to save the world ( & would, though neither knew it yet & the chances seemed all too bad. ) there was nothing of interest, not for an entity older than time itself, yet death’s gaze stuck - for reasons they could not grasp themselves.
had crowley known as much, he could have been sure the old god was not bored at all, despite appearing just so.
❝ you spin an intriguing tale, young demon. ❞ as they spoke, they tapped a finger against their chin in a steady rhythm, as if in deep thought. ❝ the lost antichrist, the war between hell & heaven, your angel - it’s what comedies are made of, truly. ❞ death laughed in emphasis, hollow & joyless. they knew no other way. ❝ so what is it you want from me ? aid ? competition ? ❞
❝ ya know what, i'm gonna be honest with you here... ❞ HONEST. funny, isn’t it, that very word coming from a man that has lied countless times for his own selfish reasons, BUT IT DOESN’T MEAN HE’S INCAPABLE. incapable of knowing honesty, and the ability to give it. he sighs, leaning forward, resting his arms upon the bar as he crosses them one over the other. ❝ humans and demons have a shit ton of things IN COMMON. ❞
@fellvaguely ❤’ed
❛ MISTER . . . CROWLEY , WAS IT ? ❜ pace meets his , a determined gaze beneath golden lashes , notepad in hand & a pen placed between fingers , poised to jot anything down . ❛ you wouldn’t mind sitting & answering some questions for me , would you ? ❜
@fellvaguely !
