#princip writes

Wrote something for the first time in years. Feeling a little vulnerable about it, especially the medical scene in the beginning, which is quite graphic. Ultimately decided it would be good for me to post it anyway.

A shock of heat, a bloom of want which arced down Aziraphale’s spine and fought to pull him closer to the long line of Crowley’s body. The pressure of Crowley’s lips; insistent and angry, hard as stone. 

Come work with me, Aziraphale had begged. I need you.

And Crowley–

Crowley had chosen earth over safety, over light, over–over Aziraphale. Over the only us that had a chance at eternity. And then, he had twisted his hands in Aziraphale’s lapels and twisted the knife deeper, his mouth on Aziraphale’s mouth, a mockery of what Aziraphale had wanted on that first day of freedom and each day afterwards. A mockery of what Crowley had never before offered. 

Once, while blessing a monastery in Russia, Aziraphale had gone swimming in a frozen lake. He had long since learned that such asceticism did not suit him. But now with Crowely’s mouth on his, he remembered the utter shock of the cold, remembered how he had fought the deadly instinct to gasp when he entered the water. 

Crowley’s lips shifted against his, gentled ever so slightly, enough that Aziraphale could have parted them with his tongue and licked into the heat of Crowely’s mouth. Instead, he pressed his own lips tighter together; he did not want to drown. 

But when Crowley pulled away, the truth still ripped itself out of Aziraphale’s mouth in a strangled stutter. 

“I…I love you.”

* * *

Crowley’s lips were numb. He felt light somehow, unpleasantly so, like an empty vessel.

Aziraphale looked as though he had been struck. He pressed a hand to his mouth, but it was too late. The words were already there between them. 

I love you. 

Perhaps Aziraphale was lying to get Crowley to agree with him. He had lied to God after all, but Crowely had known him for six thousand years and was harder to fool. Crowely’s cheeks were wet with the tears that had hung on Aziraphale’s lashes. Crowely did not think he was lying.

It didn’t matter. Aziraphale might love him; but it still wouldn’t be enough because he didn’t know him. If Aziraphale had known Crowley, he would have known that Heaven was the one place Crowely would never–could never–follow him. He would have known not to ask at all. 

Crowley ought to be angry, but all the anger had burned out. Just charcoal left, the skeleton of a tree in the desert after God had finished telling Moses and no one else the plan. 

Crowley thinks Aziraphale knows how Crowley feels but has been playing gay chicken with him for years and flirting just for fun but not seriously. He finally gets angry enough to call his bluff by kissing him when Aziraphale makes plans to leave.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has been earnestly making advances for years which Crowley hasn’t responded to. It’s only been tolerable because Aziraphale is sure Crowley is either oblivious or uninterested in him sexually—then Crowley kisses him and Aziraphale realizes Crowley has known all along that Aziraphale is into him, but was only willing to do something about it when he had something to loose.

I am completely ecstatic to share this gorgeous hand bound copy of my Good Omens human AU The False and the Fair made by @nieded.

Even though Ni sent this to me about a month ago, I still can’t quite believe that it exists, that someone would go to all this effort to make something so beautiful with my words. Wanted to do a little photo shoot to share this with y’all, since something so lovely shouldn’t just be kept to myself. Thank you Ni!

Thank you so much for such a lovely message! The False and the Fair (my Good Omens human AU set in West Virginia, yes I know it's an odd concept) was such a joy to write and holds such a special place in my heart. I love hearing from people who are still discovering the fic even though it has been finished and out in the world for several years now! Truly messages like this make my day!

I am still planning to use some elements of the fic in a standalone novel, but this is still a long way away and I'm ok with that. I love the fic as it is--existing for free in a fandom space--but I am also excited about the idea of producing a more sharpened version of it as I feel I have grown a lot as a writer since the time I posted the first chapters. I'm also working on some other original fiction these days and very busy with a big work transition...so there's a lot going on! If there are any updates about my fiction, they will be here on my Tumblr blog :)

Thanks again for the kind words! For those interested, you can check out the fic here: The False and the Fair.

You're really cruel. But not the type of cruel that's rapid and gruesome. You write in a gentle, slow and steady type of cruel. You give us time to go through the fellings and thoughts, and everything is very raw but treated with so much care. (I'm saying all this as a compliment, I'm really in love with the way you write and with this fic)

It all hurt in so many ways, but always in a good type way. It's really about healing in the end. I'm glad I've found your work.

Thank you so much! I can’t describe how much it means to me that people are still discovering and enjoying The False and the Fair years after I published it. I’m super proud of it and I’m really really glad to hear it resonate with so many people.

Regarding the cruelty of fiction: I have always loved a piece of writing advice from Anton Chekhov which is "you must be cold to your characters." I take that to mean, as a writer it's important to show things plainly, without taking any character's side or empathizing too much with any character. A reader doesn't need to know the author's opinion of if a character is brave, or kind, or an asshole--the reader can draw their own conclusions based on the characters actions and interactions (obviously if you are writing something where the narrator themselves is a character then some of this advice changes).

Chekhov has this excellent quality in his writing where he keeps the moral valences and internal motivations of his characters' actions kind of obscure. I think it's a creative distance that sometimes feels cruel but is incredibly effective and someday I would like to be able to do it as well as he does!