For Those Of You Who Want To See Me Screw Around And Be Gay, I Got A Tik Tok. Thanks To My Lovely Girlfriend

Okay I lied, I wrote something and hella projected. 

*

The day was cold and drizzly, much like most of England’s autumn weather always was. The sky was grey, the streets were grey, the general mood about the usually bright and lively depths of Soho was grey, grey, grey. Monochrome and bland.

At least it looked that way to Aziraphale. 

He hadn’t opened the bookshop today. That wasn’t generally unusual, especially on the days that he particularly wanted to discourage people coming in and rifling through his books like untame, wild animals. (Honestly, the audacity of some of these people — picking through his beloved books as though they were things to be thrown away instead of appreciated like the treasures they are.) But today it wasn’t for those specific sorts of reasons. Today things were different. 

Today, Aziraphale had woken up with a sort of heaviness that came around once every so often, when he let his guard down and let things get a little too… good. His shoulders ached where his wings would’ve been if he let them. It took him more than two hours to drag himself from his bed to put the kettle on (Crowley had convinced him to sleep every once in awhile, in that sneaky tone he used when he talked Aziraphale into a late night snack or some adventure they were definitely Not Supposed to Do; “Come on, angel, it’ll be fun. Good on the back.”). 

He had protested adamantly at first, but then given in when Crowley had gotten that puppyish, determined look on his face.  (Aziraphale was weak to the wiles of his snake).

When he had settled in with a cup of tea, in his old armchair that had long since deserved to be put out of its misery, the angel noticed things felt… off. 

Simply put, he felt… disconnected from reality. That’s a silly thing to say, Aziraphale had thought to himself, after his tea had grown cold in his hand and the rain had picked up outside. But he couldn’t help but think it was true. After all, it had been hours since he’d made his tea, and it felt like only a matter of moments. Funny how time flew by.

Aziraphale had a list of things to do today — all of which had been forgotten up until the concept of time had been remembered — that absolutely were not going to get done. He had a distant, disjointed feeling of panic about this, but it didn’t pierce through the grey, grey fog that seemed to cling to the angel with a dull sort of determination.

In fact, nothing seemed to get through that fog until a familiar voice filtered up from the bottom of the stairs leading to his flat. 

“Angel?” Crowley calls, poking his head into the apartment and looking around. He seemed to be panicked, Aziraphale noticed with a slight twinge. Had they made plans? Had he forgotten? He couldn’t seem to muster the strength to remember.

“In here, love.” He calls, his voice soft and a little rough from the silence he’d sat in. 

Crowley’s gaze snaps to the armchair, and some of the tension melts from his angular shoulders. “There you are. I waited downstairs for a half hour, I’ll have you know. And you’re always fussing at me about being on time.” 

Logically, Aziraphale knew he was only teasing. Crowley always teased, and he had a reasonable excuse to be miffed at the angel. But somehow, that seemed to cut through the shroud of melancholy that had clung to him from the beginning of the day. A sick, sharp sort of feeling stabbed into him, flashing through his entire body and making him feel sick to his stomach. Tears spring to his eyes and he pushes himself to his feet, suddenly overcome with the need to make this better, make this right again. 

Some nasty voice in his head whispered to him, ugly words that had always lived in him, but had been pressed down and held at bay for many years. 

See what you’ve done? they whispered, adding anxiety to the spike of sickness. He’s angry, now. You’ve made him angry, and he’s going to leave, and you’re never going to see him again. He’ll find a better person to be around, someone more agreeable, someone who doesn’t needle and prod and criticize. 

And just this once, Aziraphale believed them.

He began to rush about, realizing he was still in his sleep clothes and realizing all he wanted to do was curl up and sob and sob and sob until this feeling went away. “I’m sorry, the time got away from me- I’ll clean up, give me five minutes and I-I’ll…”

“Woah,” Crowley steps forward, catching him by the arm. “Angel, hey. I’m not upset, I was only teasing. Calm down, we can reschedule.”

“I’m sorry,” the angel hiccups, ducking his head, suddenly afraid to look Crowley in the eyes and see his own disgust reflected back at him. He wrings his hands, full of anxious energy as all his emotions began to catch up with him again. “I don’t know what happened, I…”

“Hey,” the demon tilts his chin up, and instead of disgust, Aziraphale finds soft concern. 

It breaks him, and a sob manages to choke him before he realizes it was even coming.

“Oh, angel…” Crowley croons, pulling him against his chest and cupping the back of his head, cradling his face against his neck. 

Aziraphale cries, holding onto his jacket as all the tension and emotion and grey bled out of him along with his tears. The demons holds his angel through it all, making shushing noises and nuzzling his hair, swaying from side to side in a soothing motion that slowly begins to calm him down. 

“We can go to dinner another time,” Crowley murmurs against his hair, rubbing his back. “We have all the time in the world, Aziraphale. Just you and I.”

Warmth blooms in the angels chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a shaky breath and allowing himself to relax. “Okay,” He whispers. 

“Why don’t we go put on the kettle and start a fire in that old fireplace, mm? Come on. Cozy night in, just you and I.”

As Aziraphale is led away, his hand in the demon’s, he starts to feel the fog slip away from his mind, replaced with warm company and distraction. Crowley had him smiling again, and the knots in his chest easing. Things were getting better already.

Outside, the sun shines through the clouds.

Just a psa everyone, if @gravitationallychallengedrabbits answers your comments and stuff, it's still me. I'm just a dumb who can't operate a multi-account blog 😂

“Nope,” I whisper as I exit out of a fic with no paragraph breaks.

I'm having issues writing today guys :// the next prompt won't be out for another little while

Oh my gosh!!!! This is so beautiful thank you so much 🥰😭

This is based off of the fic “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by @renywrites which had this cool idea of a rainbow world and a monochrome world! I tried drawing chibi and then I’m like screw it, and made them more animal crossing inspired instead.

Can’t put a Label on Love

“Are you labelling me?”

Lance rued the day that he had brought that stupid labelling device home. Now that they were moving into a house, Keith had made it his God-given duty to label everything. Everything. Lance could hardly put anything in a box before it had something stuck to it.

PUT IN THE KITCHEN was stuck to everything that belonged to the kitchen. It didn’t matter if it was a plate, or a pot, or a salt shaker, or a dishrag. Everything had a label. Keith had been cut off after he’d tried to do it to their clothes. Apparently, he had found the labeller.

“What?” He scoffs, backing away, holding something behind his back. “No. Nope. Not at all. I don’t have the labeller.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. When Keith looks away, his amethyst eyes unable to hold his husband’s gaze - that was a sure sign that Keith was lying; he couldn’t look anyone in the eyes - he twists to see what had been put on his shirt.

“Keith, seriously,” He whines. “I just bought this shirt. It hasn’t even been through the dryer!”

“Sorry, babe.” Keith hums, turning around. He didn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, the only thing Lance could hear was the telltale tapping that had come to haunt his nightmares. He wasn’t afraid of clowns, or of spiders, or anything that might lurk in the shadows. No, it was the damn clicking of that labeller. Apparently his poor subconscious was terrified of one of the most harmless things known to man.

“No, you aren’t.” Lance mumbles, pulling his shirt off. This earns him a wolf whistle. “I get the feeling that you only wanted me to take this off.”

“Maybe.” Keith walks over, leaning down to give him a kiss. “I can’t help it, you have a fantastic body.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He can feel his face growing warm and his ego puffing itself up. My husband thinks I’m hot.

Husband. That was still such a new concept. They had been married for less than a month - the offer they’d made on the tiny house in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona (exactly where Keith had wanted to be) had gone through on their wedding day. Now, instead of vacationing, they had spent the weeks since in their tiny apartment, packing up everything they owned. It was amazing how much stuff they had managed to pack into this place.

It had been ten years since they’d returned from space. Ten years since Keith had come home with Lance to Cuba, ten years since they had professed their love to one another, ten years since Lance had looked up at the stars and decided that he would give them all to Keith. In a way, he had. They’d saved the universe. Those were a tribute to that.

It had been two since he’d proposed to Keith. Two since he’d taken him aside at a reunion dinner for Voltron, taken him out underneath those same stars, given him a ring and a promise to stay with him for the rest of his life.

Of course, the whole team had been in on it. When they had come back in, both giddy and tearful with the amount of emotion that was flowing through their veins, the simple dinner had turned into so much more. There were sparklers, cake, a giant banner courtesy of Pidge, and enough alcohol to flood the desert they were moving to.

Living in Arizona was going to be a change from the bustling city of New York, but they both despised the cold. Plus Keith had gotten a grudging offer to be an instructor at the Garrison. Not that Lance minded - he loved how excited his husband was to move back to his element.

“Thank you.” Lance mumbles to his husband, looking up and taking in his beauty. He had truly married the best person in the world. Long hair constantly swept into a haphazard bun, scars that traced jagged lines over his body, a firecracker temper, soulful eyes that were often pinched with a frown.

“Yep.” Keith pads into the kitchen, the sound of a label printing off following him. Lance smiles and shakes his head. They were going to have to find some sort of sticker-remover-goo at the store before they left.

He glances down at his shirt, turning it around to read the label. BEST HUSBAND IN THE ENTIRE COSMOS, it read. KEEP CLOSE AT ALL TIMES.

The former Paladin of Voltron smiles, pulling his shirt back on and leaving the sticker. He was the luckiest guy in the world. But now to deal with the labeller situation…

“Babe, come back here with that! You’re on label probation!”

“No!”

There’s a pause, then a shriek of laughter as Lance speeds into the kitchen to wrestle the object from his husband. The snow falls gently outside. Lights were coming on in the City That Never Sleeps. Children were being tucked into bed, people were turning on the nightly news, dishes were being washed, routines were being followed.

But in this tiny, cramped little apartment, the former heroes of the universe were moving on to better things, one label at a time.

So I just got an 8-5 office job that I start tomorrow aaaaaand that means my life will be hectic af for a while. I'll still be around, but I won't be writing as much as I have been. Sorry guys! I hope you stick with me :)

Alright y'all omegaverse won 😂 I see all of you. I'll work on that tonight and have a sneak peek, full will be posted this weekend! ❤️ thank you all for participating!

Daily reminder that I’m constantly blown away by the sheer amount of talent and positivity in this fandom and how kind it’s been to me re: my own writing

You guys are all stars ⭐️

Are you ever reading a completed fanfic, and then you notice how a chapter in particular ends on a gigantic fucking cliffhanger, like the mother of all cliffhangers, and you need to take a moment to remember all those people that read this when it was still a work in progress. RIP friends