#something tender

[brenna]

Of Boundaries Within and Without

Fandom: Good Omens | Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley | Category: M/M | Rated: G | Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 2,097 | Author: scullyphile

Summary: It's difficult to make friends when you never leave your home. That's why Aziraphale tries to open the shop whenever he can, reaching out for whatever, or whoever, is missing from his life.

---

Happy birthday, @spectrallydistracted (have I said that enough times yet today? No. One more time for the people in the back.) 🩵 Writing this fic was totally last minute and not planned, but I'm glad I did it.

Thank you again to @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon for beta reading this at midnight for me. You only have yourself to blame because you said you knew I was already giving her the podfic but that you wouldn't mind if I wrote something last minute and yote it at you. So I did. God, I love a challenge. And you. Both of you.

Thanks to @goodomensafterdark for having a birthday committee. I love being on it.

---

Excerpt:

The shop would be open whenever Aziraphale’s heart was open, and so its hours were irregular and impossible to pin down. Nothing inside was for sale, not really, but he would throw the doors wide when he craved human connection badly enough.  On one such day, he stood in a rectangle of sunlight on the floor, approached the threshold, and breathed deeply. Toes abutting the line that separated him from the world, he stopped.

Continue on AO3

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I just saw a post about POV you just woke up in Supergirl's body, what's the first thing you do? And it of course resulted in art depicting POV!Supergirl appreciating her own abs in the mirror. Which means... I want this in supercorp.

But reversed.

I want Kara waking up in Lena's body, feeling the smooth high-threadcount sheets, in a room far cleaner than her own. I want her to run her hands through the thin strands of Lena's hair, the feel so different to the human touch.

I want Kara going to the bathroom and staring at herself as Lena in the mirror, appreciating the line of her jaw, and the way her eyebrow naturally seems to arch its way up.

I want Kara to lift her shirt and run a tender hand over the little pooch of Lena's belly, cupping it affectionately.

When she's done in the bathroom, she finds Lena's phone on the bedside table and scrolls through the contact list to find her own name. The other end picks up immediately.

"Lena? Yeah-- lucky guess, considering I'm in your... apartment. Yeah, of course. Sure... meet you at the Tower?"

Kara pauses for a moment, catching her own eye in the mirror of Lena's boudoir. She gives herself a soft smile.

"No rush though."

[anzysart]

Somewhere, away from the stress of lives and betrayals, the ever looming threat of red, there’s a little spot in the woods where they slow dance to a song that shouldn’t really be danced to.

[elvendara]

Day 19 for Mys Mes Inktober list

Something Tender

[lunaetis]

[ whines softly in the corner bc ... i want to write ... on both blogs ... but wORK HAD BEEN KILLING MY CREATIVITY & I CAN ONLY. LURK. & SECRETLY WISH I COULD WRITE ]

[softheartedpoet]

i’ve been thinking of the Great Big Love lately. how i thought i had it a few times before, and how i lost it each time. how i thought i wasn’t going to get another chance. i recall how i let my newly-validated cynicism shroud me afterwards, sometimes for months. i rolled myself in it, thinking it would keep others out, without realizing it was only fencing me in. 

now, with some distance (emotional, physical—distance in every dimension), i see that i haven’t had it yet. i’ve had some big ones, but not a great one. not yet.

and i know that when it comes, i will be ready. i have been loving myself endlessly and fiercely. i have been splurging my love on myself, and the more i spend, the more it grows. i know that when the great love comes, i will be more whole and more healed and i will have gotten even better at becoming more whole and more healed and i will stand in front of my great love, unlock my chest, open all its drawers, full and brimming, and say, “look, i have all this love. i have all this love, and i want to share it—with you.”

[softheartedpoet]

california dreaming

as you sleep in your bed, i climb out of mine wrapped in the same sheets i waited too long to wash after you left for a sunnier shore. i let the sheets fall to my feet as i walk, fingers tracing walls, naked back bent as i sit at the baby grand piano you bought.

you told me: stop running as if distance is a measure of your endurance, and run instead to the one whose distance you cannot endure

but i didn’t, and let you chase me till the soles of your shoes were all but gone, till your feet blistered red, till your heart pumped love dry— though you’ve never been closer and never farther away, i sit here and sing the words i pray i one day have the courage to say: i am sorry it took ten poems, three time zones and a year’s worth of distance between us for me to let my hair down and hang up my running shoes, i am sorry that my memory is kinder to you than i was, and that it took me this long to notice that the devil i thought was you was on my shoulder the whole time.

i picture you walking through orange tree-lined streets under a brighter sun’s setting rays, and hope one day you’ll forgive me for making you stand in the shade.

[softheartedpoet]

yellow boy, brown boy

to the yellow boy lying behind the chapel gentle underbelly of sin—

don’t you know God is white? marking degrees from straight narrow tightrope falling

when you kiss the brown boy skin alighting tender skin— does your heart itch or burn? hearing hymnal damnations does the fluttering in your belly renounce the fear of flames? tell me, yellow boy: if love in life means death forever after is he enough for you?