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Entry tags:
(closed) i'm complaining, i'm complaining.
Who: Crowley and Aziraphale
When: Maiuril 26th, night.
Where: Their home.
What: Underneath the red eclipse, things are a little different.
Warnings: Language and some exciting adventures of furrydom.
This part never seems to get any easier. For all this time, Aziraphale has held onto a thin sliver of hope that this might become a less arduous affair with some time. Or, at the very least, something that he could find a way to sleep through. That would be ideal, wouldn't it?
To curl up and sleep away these difficult nights until he could wake with a stronger sense of self. To, essentially, press the "fast forward" button and skip past all the unpleasantness.
Unfortunately, such a thing continues to be impossible.
The best he can manage is to lock himself away in a room and wait for it to pass. The purpose, of course, is to ensure that Crowley is safe or otherwise doesn't have to be the object of his attention while he's in a less than composed state. For a bit, this did work out rather swimmingly. Crowley would keep himself by the door, talking or otherwise reading aloud to make sure Aziraphale knew he was there and available. It always managed to help put Aziraphale at ease.
However, Crowley can only follow instructions for so long before he decides to toss them out the window. Rather than remain at the door, where it is safe, he takes to venturing inside to try to soothe Aziraphale with more than just the sound of his voice.
It's been fine so far—Aziraphale's desire to keep Crowley safe far outweighing his other urges.
Tonight has proven to be much more difficult. He's always had a tenuous sense of control on the evening of a full moon, but it feels worse than it has been in several months. His thoughts feel hazy and disjointed, scattered underneath base desire.
Crowley is beside him, half-sitting on the bed, and saying things that Aziraphale is starting to not recognise.
Aziraphale lets out a huff and presses his face against Crowley's side.
When: Maiuril 26th, night.
Where: Their home.
What: Underneath the red eclipse, things are a little different.
Warnings: Language and some exciting adventures of furrydom.
This part never seems to get any easier. For all this time, Aziraphale has held onto a thin sliver of hope that this might become a less arduous affair with some time. Or, at the very least, something that he could find a way to sleep through. That would be ideal, wouldn't it?
To curl up and sleep away these difficult nights until he could wake with a stronger sense of self. To, essentially, press the "fast forward" button and skip past all the unpleasantness.
Unfortunately, such a thing continues to be impossible.
The best he can manage is to lock himself away in a room and wait for it to pass. The purpose, of course, is to ensure that Crowley is safe or otherwise doesn't have to be the object of his attention while he's in a less than composed state. For a bit, this did work out rather swimmingly. Crowley would keep himself by the door, talking or otherwise reading aloud to make sure Aziraphale knew he was there and available. It always managed to help put Aziraphale at ease.
However, Crowley can only follow instructions for so long before he decides to toss them out the window. Rather than remain at the door, where it is safe, he takes to venturing inside to try to soothe Aziraphale with more than just the sound of his voice.
It's been fine so far—Aziraphale's desire to keep Crowley safe far outweighing his other urges.
Tonight has proven to be much more difficult. He's always had a tenuous sense of control on the evening of a full moon, but it feels worse than it has been in several months. His thoughts feel hazy and disjointed, scattered underneath base desire.
Crowley is beside him, half-sitting on the bed, and saying things that Aziraphale is starting to not recognise.
Aziraphale lets out a huff and presses his face against Crowley's side.