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The utter betrayal of your friend reblogging your tiny fic snippet from this sideblog that hasn’t been active since 2020.

@aughtpunk WHEN I GET YOU

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Angus was worse today. Taako held his hand as he took a few shuddering breaths, lidded eyes gazing at the wall.

“Hey, Ango.” Taako started, and stopped just as suddenly. It felt important to say these things, but watching his grown kid made the words burn up and sour on his tongue.

“Yeah?” Angus turned to face him.

“I-l just...” Taako ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, you know I’m not good at - at this shit.” He chuckled dryly. Angus quirked a smile, but his forehead was wrinkled in pain. Taako took a few shaky breaths of his own and tried to form the words in his head. He tried again.

“You’re cool.”

That sparked a laugh, which turned to a cough. “Ow.” Angus’s voice was quiet, but Taako could still hear the little kid he first met in it. It had deepened with age, and begun to crack when he was a teen. Now, at nearly ninety years old, his throat seemed hoarser by the day.

“No, I’m serious, you’re like, the coolest person I know.” Taako insisted. “You can even tell Lulu I said that, she’ll agree.”

Something was stinging in his eyes. Taako wiped them with one flowy sleeve.

“I will.”

Taako’s grip on his son’s hands tightened.

“And- and say hi to Magnus. And don’t let Merle do all the talking, he’ll want to hear how the kids are doing.”

“Taako- Dad, I’ll see him every day. And Auntie Lup and Dad and Uncle Barry and everyone. I’m not going to be alone.” Angus coughed. “And I’ve always wanted to see what was out there. I’m not afraid. If anything I’m just worried about you. You have so much to live for.”

Taako’s lip quivered as he broke. He laughed through solid tears dripping down his face, and shook them off like the situation could clear away with them. He closed his eyes against the hospice bed and imagined Angus with Magnus, with Merle, with Julia, but in his head he was there too, and they were all together again.

He opened them, and Angus was still there. Not yet. Not yet. For now he was here.

“I will.”

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“If I may-“ the pinstriped man flicked his thumb over the device in his hand, once, twice, and pocketed it skillfully. “It looks to me like we’ve run into some kind of er, wibbly, unsteady, kind of mix-up in the time-space continuum-“

“Oh, wow.” Michael breathed, staring intently at the man. “Wow.”

Eleanor poked him with her elbow, still frightened. “What, what is this, is he some kind of, of, a demon or something we haven’t heard about?”

“No, no, this man-“ Michael lowered his voice to her, “Well, if I can call him a man, he’s something I’ve never even seen before. I mean, his internal organs alone are out of this world. Literally, out of it. He’s got two hearts.”

“But you’re... not scared of him, right?”

“On the contrary, Eleanor, I am scared out of my pants right now. I think it would be best for us to proceed in the opposite direction, quickly.”

The man in the suit cleared his throat. “No, no please, not until we understand better how we’ve met!“

“No, we’re fine, thank you very much.” Tahani graciously told him, pulling Jason along. The group made for the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” He called frantically. Michael threw open the door, which resembled something like a house’s, and Eleanor made to leap out.

She yelled even as Michael caught her and prevented her from falling through space.

All that was under her dangling feet were uncountable ranges of galaxies filled with stars.

“Oh, my.” Tahani gasped.

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- salad ingredients but only the ones you have the energy to pull from the fridge and eat from the bag separately until you finally put some dressing on

welcome to Mealtimes With Executive Dysfunction, please have a look at our menu:

leftovers from the last time you had a Real Actual Meal (you lucky bastard)

leftovers from the last time you had a Real Actual Meal (you lucky bastard), except they aren’t actually there anymore because you ate them for lunch

staring into the fridge and whining

plain rice

tuna straight from the can

tuna ON TOP OF PLAIN RICE WHAAAAAAT *air horn noises*

something that’s probably gone bad a little but you don’t have the energy to care

something you actually like but you’re too tired to cook it properly

something you hate but it’s still slightly better than all the other options

canned soup

cheese???????

peanut??? butter?????????????

guilt about eating canned soup for the 6th time this week

oh thank god i have vegetables in the freezer 

the fresh vegetables you accidentally left to rot because preparing them was too much effort

the easiest & least appetizing of 5 ways you know how to cook eggs

12 different snack foods over a period of 5 hours

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Aftercare (Mild nsfw?)

“You’ve got to recharge.”

“Mmm... no.”

“Sage?” Ciro rolled over and looked his lover in the face. “Please.”

Sage’s closed eyelids fluttered briefly, in a terrible imitation of sleeping.

The night- morning? Ciro was never sure what to call it, whatever time Night Crew slept- had gone on so long that human and robot were both spent. They were in the dark, enveloped in clear, sweet after-sex bliss.

Ciro tickled Sage’s feet with his own, each body wrapped only in a blanket and the warm glow of Sage’s eyes.

He had given up modesty hours ago in favor of the skin-to-skin contact. Thankfully, the room was warm and his boyfriend a reliable heat source, especially now, after some activity. There was no cover for him against the cold.

Save for the wires still trailing down his skin.

***

An hour or minutes ago, Ciro had shivered and closed his eyes. He pressed himself harder into Sage, his big spoon tonight, who made a noise of approval. Those little “Mm”s were cute, Ciro thought. Like a kitten face emoji personified.

He’d kissed his boyfriend and drifted off.

***

“Ciro.”

Ciro could tell after looking at his watch, it was 25 minutes or so ago that he’d first drifted off, as near as he could estimate.

It had still not gotten to where we were, with Sage protesting the morning’s arrival, when Ciro released his watch’s button and the bright blue glow against his eyes disappeared. He’d groaned and closed them to remain in the sancitity of their gentle sleep.

This was how the debate- if it wasn’t a lover’s argument-, had started.

After two mumbles, and a sleepy moan from his boyfriend.

“I need to charge.”

“Ah, ah,” Ciro wrapped his hands tighter around the waist of his boyfriend. Sage pressed their foreheads together and grasped his hands as though automatically. He raised his hands to Ciro’s face, pressed his thumbs over his cheeks, and made another happy noise.

“You’re staying here with me. After that, you can go charge.” Ciro said.

“Ciro. As surely as you need to sleep, I‘ll need to spend time on my charging port.” Sage’s eyes gently searched his. “I’ll be a few feet away at most.”

“Don’t you have more time?” Ciro tried to sound as little like he was whining as he could.

(It was at times like this he could see why Reyes has added a charging port to his bed. Not that he wanted to think about this now.)

“You know I love you, but Ciro, I do actually have to charge.” Sage said. He began to push himself up. “If I stay here long enough, I’ll be too tired to take the next shift. And if my brother needs help before then...”

“S’donf.” Ciro didn’t want to think about the whole entire colony knowing what they were doing. He pressed his head into Sage’s chest. Sage laughed, light and clear.

“Is this how you say you don’t want me to go, Love?”

“S’nooo.” Ciro grumbled. He glared at Sage and it came out like a pout.

“Good night-morning-sleeping time, sweet Ciro.” Sage gently patted his hair. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Here comes the difficulty, he had never actually left the bed.

***

TBC

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Askbox open.

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A past-canon face washing

The water running low in the sink, Aziraphale pulls a down hand towel that surely hasn’t been used in years since it was miracled or bought with the shop.

Crowley watches him, hands twitching as if he wants to help. Aziraphale tests the water, soaks the towel, and turns to him.

He reaches gently for the glasses and Crowley flinches. Aziraphale retracts his hands at once, Crowley catching his fingertips. They stand there for a moment, breathing quickly and out of sync. Aziraphale smiles a small, understanding smile, and pulls the shades off. Crowley doesn’t stop him.

His yellow eyes follow Aziraphale as he redampens the towel and presses a wet hand to the side of Crowley’s face. Crowley squints his eyes shut when he moves the cloth towards him.

“Here now,” Aziraphale whispers. He slightly scrubs under the eyebrows, ever so gently swiping the warm cloth over Crowley’s eyes. Crowley’s eyes flutter at the heat. His hands remain clenched, the rest of his body visibly relaxing somewhat.

They remain there for what could be minutes or days, Aziraphale whispering small nothings to him as he touches him with a cloth slightly too soft and fingertips that send lines of tension down his body. He pays special attention to Crowley’s eyes, washing his face with care and letting the warm water sweep over the spot by his ears where it feels so good.

He wipes Crowley’s chin. Just before he pulls back, he scrubs gently and sops a drip off from his neck.

“Better?” He whispers.

“Your turn. Let me have the fresh towel.” Crowley rolls his neck slowly, languidly, and opens his eyes.

There’s something about watching his angel. There always is, but Crowley is feeling more relaxed and well, vulnerable after he’d washed his face.

He looks away. He can’t quite feel it like he once did, but it’s coming from inside him now. No, he can feel it.

Aziraphale hands him a towel. Crowley doesn’t need an angel’s senses to know he’s positively beaming with love. He can feel him.

He can feel it. It’s warmer than the towel, that love. Crowley washes it extra carefully, trying to take it up a notch to meet that kind of warmth.

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Snippet 3

Gonna continue this one.

Red, glowing eyes hotter than hellfire met his own. “You desire.” He stated.

Crowley looked away. Adam‘s gaze seared into him.

“Well of course I do! I’m a bloody demon! What did you think we do?”

“No.” Said Adam quietly. “You want something else.”

“Stop it.” Crowley snapped. His heartbeat, although unnecessary, quickened as though Adam was looking through him now. He felt a presence inside him that made him want to flinch and scream and cry as it poked him with inept curiosity.

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Echo of the Larkspur: Coffee Shop AU

Needs polishing when I have not been low on sleep.

For @aughtpunk

Just say you like his hair, just say you like his hair, and don’t be weird, just don’t even look him in the eyes.

Just say it.

Ciro took a full gulp of air, lifted his chin, and paused. The confused barista’s hand started to wobble from the effort of holding Ciro’s drink out for him. Wide, confused eyes met his own. Ciro took the cup before the barista was able to pull it back.

“I like your hair!”

He thrust a fistful of change at the barista- for the drink and a hefty tip in the small box beside him- and spun on his heel to leave.

The barista seemed to choke a little.

Oh god I actually scared him, I actually fu-

“THANKS,” the barista stammered, “I, UH, I LIKE HAIR!”

In the middle of Ciro’s speechlessness, a spoon hit the counter behind him with a quiet clink. It was followed by the employee at the expresso machine shoving his head forward into his hands instead of finishing his drink preparation. His shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.

“ShutupIlex.”

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Snippet two

“Crowley.” The voice is low and rumbling. Ah. One of the big bosses again.

“It’s time you choose a side.”

Crowley dusts off his jacket and makes a show of thinking about it.

“Listen... there’s something you’ll never really understand. It’s the freedom of choice. It’s what humans look for every day of their lives and will continue to do so until the real Armageddon.

You can find it too, if you look. But don’t expect me to wait up. You want me to choose a side?” Crowley lowers his sunglasses and smiles a flash of teeth, but his eyes and tone betray a sort of soft, quiet tearfulness. He pictures the reason he’s gotten this far.

“I choose joy.”

He closes his eyes and waits to be discorporated from this session, as the demon above him rages.

He can’t wait for the few seconds later he’ll be back on the ship with Aziraphale.

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So this is sometimes where some of my writing goes now.

Snippet one

The smell of wildflowers and the taste of dandelions on his lips. The scent of queen Anne’s lace, buttercup, and blue cornflowers. He inhales it as he is surrounded by the flowers and seeking them are butterflies that go by on the breeze. There’s nothing as good to Crowley as Aziraphale.

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Snippet one

The smell of wildflowers and the taste of dandelions on his lips. The scent of queen Anne’s lace, buttercup, and blue cornflowers. He inhales it as he is surrounded by the flowers and seeking them are butterflies that go by on the breeze. There’s nothing as good to Crowley as Aziraphale.