#sleepymccoy

Okay genuinely I spent most of the movie shouting excitedly at my cousin "OH!!!!!! THAT'S where that meme came from? OH WAIT that joke is REAL? That's straight from the actual MOVIE?" so it was very funny.

It was great. I actually was surprised by how funny and creative it felt even as an adult. Solid movie, very amusing, and now I find the Farquaad jokes even more amusing when I see them around

People clock them as flirting because they keep going off together when their batteries are set at zero, and culturally that's like a big deal, speaks to intimacy and familiarity and trust. But really they're trying to be passive aggressive by setting their batteries to zero at the end of the day and don't realise the message everyone's getting from it

Ahhhh yes, (tags), love Spock continuously updating his, and Kirk 👀👀 as he tries go get better insight into Spock, and YES, I love Spock putting his up after McCoy walks away!! Very accurate to him, tbh, he does get energized from discussions with McCoy, but the scientist in him making sure he accurately reflects that is so cute???

Also LOVE the idea of people leaving together with low levels being an intimate thing, that's so good from a world-building perspective!

Countdown to Zine Time☄️ 

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? Easy answer is unplanned pregnancy. The answer that annoys me--as in, the thing I'm trying to break out of doing--is for SOME reason a ton of scenes in my fics take place in bathrooms as someone showers. I forget sometimes that, you know, other rooms exist. Other locations exist. I very much get stuck writing the same three places and I am trying so hard to break out of that because I'll be editing a fic and notice it and get so annoyed at myself.

(2/2) [The summoning fic ask] Another (explicit) chapter (the final one?) was by a group of ladies during a hen night and Crowley is pulled away during some sexy times with Aziraphale while naked, so he can't call Aziraphale on his own mobile. Aziraphale shows up and gets the ladies out of their own house and they continue/restart their ... previous activities onsite.

I think it’s this one!

Summoned by sleepymccoy (E)

Heaven and Hell decided that as they have their Worst Employee of the Forever sorted, they could shimmy the worse parts of the gig off to them. And being summoned sucks.

Crowley finds he keeps getting summoned by different people, more often than ever before. This fic is the roughly year and a half period after that failed apocalypse, told only through scenes where Crowley (and one time Aziraphale) have been unwillingly summoned by someone. I will say the real joy of this is that Crowley is pissed off most of the time and Aziraphale is appropriately protective

Prompts: a kiss on the neck, a victory kiss, kiss marks or lipstick stains.

Read this (and all other prompt fills) on AO3!

The drive from the Ritz back to the bookshop was quiet. In a way, Crowley felt like all important things had already been said with their toast to the world. But at the same time, it felt like there was so much left unsaid that he didn’t know where to begin to put it into words. It didn’t help that Aziraphale was quiet as well, wringing his hands in restless anxiety in his lap as Crowley sped through the streets of London. He seemed so caught up in his fear over the bookshop that he didn’t even make a sound when Crowley rushed over a junction and needed a minor miracle to escape a lorry. 

Finally, he came to a stop in front of the bookshop. Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped in relief as he saw the outside unharmed.

“There. All’s still inside. Like I said, not a book burnt,” Crowley said quietly. Aziraphale let out a breath and gave him a hesitant smile.

“Looks like it,” he said, finally getting out of the car to let them inside.

As soon as Aziraphale stepped into the dim light of the shop, the last remaining bits of anxiety seemed to melt away. It was replaced by a pure, unadulterated joy that made Crowley’s heart skip a beat. The angel was breathtaking like this, radiating warmth and contentment and love as he moved further into the shop.

Aziraphale let his gaze wander over the room in awe, eyes gleaming, a soft smile on his lips. He slowly took in every single shelf and book, every single nook and cranny, as if he couldn’t believe it was all still there, right at his fingertips. And finally, his eyes met Crowley’s. The look of pure wonder and delight on his face didn’t cease - if anything, his eyes shone even brighter than before.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. At some point one of them must have moved, spurring the other one into action as well, but Crowley could not tell who had made the first move. All he knew was that they suddenly met in the middle, arms encircling each other, holding each other close as if both of them were still terrified they might disappear any second now.

Aziraphale had wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, holding him tight as he buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck. Crowley held him just as closely, his arms twined around Aziraphale’s shoulders, nose buried in his hair.

“We won,” Aziraphale finally said, voice shaking. Crowley shivered as his breath ghosted over his skin. “I can’t believe we actually won.”

“We did,” Crowley murmured.

“Our own side.” Agonizingly slow, Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley’s neck. For a second Crowley thought he might have imagined the fleeting touch, but Aziraphale did it again, kissing more firmly this time. Crowley let out a whimper. He feared his knees might give out any second now, but Aziraphale held him upright with such a casual display of angelic strength that it made Crowley’s head swim.

“No more Heaven and Hell,” Aziraphale continued between kisses to Crowley’s neck. “I won’t have to go to Italy to bless a vineyard tomorrow. You won’t be called to America to cause havoc on Times Square next week. It’s just us.”

“Yes,” Crowley rasped, throwing his head back to give Aziraphale better access to his skin. “I’m all yours, angel.”

Crowley heard Aziraphale’s breath stutter at his words, but then the angel latched his lips onto Crowley’s skin and sucked hard, and Crowley lost every ability to pay attention to anything that wasn’t the angel’s mouth on him. He let out a high pitched sound from the back of his throat, something between a moan and a whimper. Aziraphale froze, as if he was abruptly brought back to reality.

“Ngk!” A noise of protest escaped Crowley’s lips as Aziraphale pulled back, just enough to see the purple mark he had sucked onto Crowley’s neck. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. “Oh, darling, I apologize. I got carried away. Wait, let me just-”

“No!” Crowley caught Aziraphale’s hand before he could pull on the power to miracle the bruise away. “Leave it,” he said, breathlessly. “Please.”

Aziraphale met his eyes, the worry in his features replaced by confusion. “Crowley?”

Crowley let out a shaking breath, still clinging to the angel as if he never wanted to let go. “Like I said, I’m all yours,” he finally managed to get out. “And I want the whole blessed world to know.”