A.A. MacConnell's Blog, page 7

Ice Cream

“Crowley’s Milk As Good as Any Better’n Some”

Aziraphale choked on his tea and looked at it again. “J.K. Crowley?”

It was an old carton. Early 1900s, if he had to guess. Aziraphale had gone through an old chest and found it there – thankfully void of milk. He had no idea how it had gotten there. He had probably spent more time than he should have staring at it. Enough time for someone to knock at the door for the third time.*

“Angel, what are you doing in there?” Crowley asked, letting the do...

Mesopotamia

Aziraphale had never seen that particular piece of art before.

It was made of ivory and it was old. That was really all that needed to be said about that part. The artistry of it was familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Phoenician, he believed. It was a plaque, dug into to display an angelic figure. Or perhaps it was a human, with the wings in the background shielding them from something. It was hard to tell.

“Crowley?” he called out to the other room, not taking his eyes of...

Crepes

“Frankly, I should be offended.”

“Should you?” Crowley asked dryly, eyebrows raising above his sunglasses.

Aziraphale huffed, shifting in his seat and smoothing out his menu. “It’s like that’s all anyone thinks I eat!”

“Uh huh.”

“I can’t even get there myself. You would think I would be given an option.”

“You have been given an option, angel,” Crowley drawled, not taking this nearly as seriously as Aziraphale wanted him to.

“Only after I insisted! That’s not the order things should be done in...

Alpha Centauri

At nine precisely they will dine
Living through each other’s lips
Perhaps through words without the scripts
Hands passing by, they refill the wine

And through the cracks where stars align
Choosing a new place their feelings eclipse
Ever at nine they will dine
Needing nothing but words on each other’s lips

Through the stars which split through time
And new horizons which tell him “mine”
Under too many bottles, as laughter tips
Resting beyond an absent Apocalypse
Impressing that in any place, a...

Reverse

“Please, please, look where you’re going!”

“I’m looking out the window,” Crowley said, as though Aziraphale wasn’t having a panic attack.

For his part, Aziraphale wondered what heart palpitations felt like. He practiced breathing because he liked it and it made things natural with mortal beings, but he had never really let his corporeal form deal with the complexities of a heartbeat beyond the normal kind.

“You’re looking out the wrong window.”

Crowley stared forward, backing the Bentley down...

Crossover

Aziraphale didn’t think much about it at first. Crowley had left one of his coats on his settee. The angel made a note to himself to remind Crowley about it as he hung it up on the coat rack with the other objects which had been accidentally left within the bookshop.

A pair of shoes was much stranger. Aziraphale had forgotten to mention the coat. Crowley had picked it up without him saying anything, but had left another one in its place a few days later. As long as he knew, Aziraphale decided...

Eden

Edith waited in the rain, as she was supposed to. Her cigarette wouldn’t stay lit, but that wasn’t the point. The only thing keeping her hair looking good was the wide brimmed hat she wore, which amazingly survived the onslaught despite how improbable it was.

“Wh-what are you doing out here?”

She looked up. The man standing there, she knew. But she wasn’t supposed to. She saw the realization dawn on him as they were both playing different roles. They had to be strangers.

Sometimes that was fu...

At the Ritz

It was raining outside, but no one really noticed or cared. It was strange, how an entire restaurant of people could go from feeling however it was they had when entering to all deciding that everything was a lovely time. Even obligations that awaited them outside of their dinner. Everyone, customers and staff, couldn’t have imagined going anywhere else.

Normally Crowley would have asked the angel why he was going so overboard, but not even Crowley could care right now. Plus, he could always...

October – the last month of the sane

NaNoWriMo is next month. Ah.

I’m doing Inktober this month. Ah.

I’m also doing #IneffableInktober this month (but Writing, for some practice). Ah.

And two conventions during NaNo as well. Ah

I published a thing today.

AH.

How did things come to this? Don’t know. Too much to do, not enough time, still doing it. Something like that.

Most of the poetry in this book will be known to people on this blog. Just bettered. And some are new. I guess it goes on my list of publications?

That’s book thr...

Comes and Goes Without Notice

The burning sensation within my brain

Travelling up from my spine

Not something I could explain

So not to feel it, I so feign

Pulsing crackling spirals

To push me out of line

Scratching my brain, it idles

An invisible, secret block, my trials

 

If I could give you a taste

Of what it’s like to feel this way

I would find it more than a waste

For more than I to be so paced

Maybe none will understand

Not for lack of trying, as they say

This illness gone long out of hand

Isn’t to be grasped in ful...