Heads Up, New Works On AO3 Will Take A While To Show Up, They’ve Gotten Hit With A Bunch Of Spam.

Air Shiro is back in action!!

Ahh you're so sweet ❤️ I have no idea if I'll continue it but if anyone else ever wanted to take a crack at it I would absolutely share my notes.

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.

Hey guys! I just want to say thank you so, so much for everything you guys have done for me. From the likes, to the reblogs, to the donations. You all contributed $70 in total and I cannot thank you enough. As much as people want to believe tumblr is a terrible place, all of you have shown me that there is such a thing as support and niceness in the world. Especially in people I’ve never even met before.

Seriously, guys. I’m sitting here crying as I write this because I can’t believe how much of a support system I’ve gained just through this crazy thing called the internet. Especially when only my girlfriend has stepped up to be my emotional support. Thank you. I cannot stress this enough.

On a more serious note, I have some news involving my writing. 

The situation at home and the tension between my mom and I has only increased and gotten worse over the past three days. I haven’t been in such a terrible emotional state in a really long time, and I don’t want it to impact my grades or get me kicked out for sure.

That being said, I’m taking a short break from writing fanfiction until I can gather myself enough. Those of you who sent in requests, thank you so much, and I promise that they will get written when I’m feeling better. There may be sporadic updates when I get bored and want to write something. 

Again, thank you all so much. I love all of you.

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

I stole this idea from another blog,but I cant reber the name. Every single person who reblogs this before 10 February will recieve a baby pokemon in their inbox,after this egg harches.

LOOK I GOT A HAIRCUT

I have reached PEAK GAY

If you can’t think of anything to say about a fic, writers also like to know:

- what time it is

- how long you’ve been reading

- how many chapters you’ve covered in the last 24 hours

- what you were late for because you were reading

- the woeful few hours you have left to sleep

- the emotional outbreaks you’re experiencing

- the inappropriate place you’re having said outbreak

- the general public’s reaction to your outbreak

- how much phone battery you have left

Old Habits Die Hard

Keith and Lance’s New Year’s Resolutions:

1. Eat less sweets

2. Work out every morning

3. Go to bed early

4. Organize the basement

5. Spend more time with each other

One

Lance was very weak when it came to sugar. And of course, Keith had put ‘cut back on sugar’ at the top of their resolutions list, like some kind of monster. Maybe it would be better at the bottom of the list? Or in the middle? It was kind of insulting that he had put it at the top! And that knowing little look he’d given Lance? Ugh.

Keith’s unreasonable request was the exact reason why Lance was in the kitchen at 2:43am, sitting on the floor and halfway through a carton of rocky road ice cream. He was eating it out of spite. His boyfriend was being ridiculous, and Lance was not going to stand for it.

In retrospect, maybe eating a carton of ice cream just a few hours before he had to wake up and get ready for work had been a really bad idea. Lance groans, burying his face in his pillow and clutching his stomach.

“Should I stay home?” Keith frets, checking his forehead for the millionth time. “You seemed fine last night…”

“No!” Lance says quickly. Keith did not need to see him drown himself in pepto bismol and Sprite. Also, there might be a couple empty ice cream cartons he needed to dispose of. Just a couple. “No, go to work… I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a 24 hour thing.”

His boyfriend gives him an odd look, then rolls his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with the empty ice cream carton in the freezer?”

His blood freezes in his veins and he swallows very loudly. “No?” He says, very convincingly. Keith was going to be so convinced.

There’s a soft scoff and then a hand ruffling his hair fondly. “I knew it. I’ll call your work and let them know you caught a bug. Want me to have Hunk bring you some crackers and Sprite?”

“Please…” He moans, clutching his stomach as another wave of nausea hits.

“Will do,” Keith chuckles, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And tonight when I get home, I’m getting rid of anything sugary we still own. I’ll find that secret stash of yours, McClain.”

There’s a sense of finality in his tone that both makes him nervous and turns him on a little. “Okay.” He mumbles guiltily, settling in to deal with his horrible mistake.

Two

“I don’t want to.” Keith groans, pulling the blankets up over his head.

Lance puts his hands on his hips, huffing. “Keith Kogane, you were the one who decided it would be a good idea to get up at the ass crack of dawn and go to the gym.”

“We did that yesterday.” The Korean whines petulantly.

“The list says every morning, so we’re going.”

The covers are pushed back slowly, revealing a mop of messy black hair and amethyst eyes narrowed to evil little slits. Surprisingly, Lance was the early bird in this relationship. It drove Keith absolutely nuts, which was why he had decided that if he was going to be disturbed by his boyfriend in ungodly hours of the morning, he might as well make the most of it.

But this morning, he was not having it.

Lance is unprepared for the sudden attack, squawking as his boyfriend launches himself at him, yanking him gracelessly back into the bed and aggressively koala hugging him.

“No.” Comes the verdict.

Lance almost wants to struggle, but then Keith presses a line of kisses over the exposed skin of his neck and tucks the warm blanket around them, and he’s weak. Leave it to Keith to play dirty.

“Okay.” He sighs.

And there went their second resolution.

Three

“We should go to bed.” Lance yawns, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. It read 10:38pm.

Keith glances up from his computer, where he’d been playing Poptropica for the past three hours, hoping lance hadn’t noticed (He had). “Can’t we stay up for another half hour? I’m almost done with this isla- uh… thing.”

Lane throws him an amused look, picking up the book on the coffee stable he’d been meaning to read. “Yes, finish playing Zomberry Island. We can stay up another half hour.”

His boyfriend gives him a sheepish, grateful little smile before turning back to his screen. The two settle into comfortable silenced, the sounds of clicking coming from Keith’s computer and the rasp of pages against fingertips filling the room between them.

Time flies past, neither of them really keeping tabs. Keith finishes Zomberry Island and starts on another one, completely engrossed in the screen. Lance loses himself to the plot of his book. Neither of them notice the time.

Well, not until Lance’s phone buzzes angrily, letting him know that it was well past the time for it to be plugged in for the night. He passes a hand over his face and marks the page, sitting up to see what it was fussing about. He freezes when he reads the time.

3:07am.

“Keith,” Lance says, staring in silent horror. “Babe, I think we should go to bed.”

“But I’m almost…” He trails off, falling back into his hyperfixation.

“No, Kogane, it’s bedtime.” Lance walks over, gently pulling his hands from the keyboard and stealing a kiss.

Keith gives him a dazed look, then glowers. “Hey, I was focusing.”

“I know.” He says, amused. He turns his phone on, then shows him the time. Keith’s eyes widen. “But it’s seriously time for us to go to sleep.”

Keith’s mouth twists into a wry smile as he lets Lance pull him from the chair and towards their bedroom. “We’re really bad at this whole resolutions thing, aren’t we?”

“The worst.” Lance laughs.

Four

“No.” Lance says stubbornly, standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Absolutely not.”

Keith kicks a box out of his way, wading into the piles of random and useless crap and the sea of boxes. “But we said that we’d do this.”

“The Lance that said we’d clean this monstrosity was also drunk and considering dying his hair bright pink. I am not that Lance anymore, Keith.”

The Korean lets out a snort of amusement, looking up at a stack of boxes that was taller than him. “Well… somebody’s gotta do it.”

Lance crosses his arms, leaning against the banister. “That somebody is not going to be me. And knowing you, you’re going to get through half of this and I’ll find you at four in the morning sitting in a pile of old clothes and covered in dust because you found an old toy and you’re playing with it.”

Keith gives the boxes a reproachful look, but even he can’t deny that. “Yeah…”

“We can bribe the Holts and Hunk to do it with pizza and beer.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah.” His boyfriend nods, hardly taking a second to agree. “Yep. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“C’mon, mullet.” Lance chuckles. “Get outta there before I lose your short ass to dust and spiders.”

“Spiders?!” Keith shrieks, immediately jumping away from the boxes and bounding up the stairs.

“You fought intergalactic space monsters and you’re afraid of spiders?” Lance laughs, switching off the light and closing the basement door.

“It’s different, Lance! They have too many eyes and legs!”

“Whatever you say.” Comes the amused reply as they leave the messy basement to debate arachnids.

Five

“So I bought all of the movies you texted me because I couldn’t pick. Also I got Mike and Ikes, licorice, Reese’s, Twix, and a shit ton of other stuff. And Chinese.”

Lance looks up as Keith dumps the haul down on the counter, smiling fondly and nursing his cup of tea. His boyfriend looks up, then walks over and tips his chin up, giving him a soft kiss.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks quietly, his amethyst eyes searching Lance’s.

The Cuban gives him a wobbly, wet smile, shrugging. He’d forgotten a dose of his anti-anxiety meds and had called Keith at work in the middle of a panic attack. Keith had immediately packed his things, talking to Lance as he headed to the store to pick up things for a relaxing evening.

“C’mon.” Keith says, his tone soothing, leading Lance to the couch. “You relax and I’ll put a movie in.”

Lance settles himself on the couch while Keith slots a disney movie into the DVD player, bustling about to get their food and snacks ready for the night. It was going to be a long one. Keith was determined to calm his boyfriend down so he could sleep easily tonight.

The two settle into a cocoon of food and drinks and blankets, ready for their night.

“Thank you.” Lance says quietly as the opening credits of their movie start rolling.

“Of course.” Keith gives a soft look and an even softer kiss. “We’ll make Friday nights movie nights, okay?”

“Okay.” Lance whispers, pillowing his head against Keith’s shoulder, smiling to himself.

Maybe they were bad at keeping trivial resolutions, but they excelled at the ones that meant the most. And, really, that was all that mattered.

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.