#and im taking much delight on going “oh crowley”

[saryasy]

AND I'M DONE

(don't worry he's just missing his angel)

[avocado-writing]

Hey! Saw you had good omens requests open and decided to ask for one. If it's too weird, im sorry and just ignore this. Can you do an ineffable husband's x reader smut where the reader can't c*m (like due to medical reasons or messed up hormones), but Aziriphale and Crowley miracle them and allow them to have a pleasurable experience and have the experience of c*mming for the first time?

my dear anon, you don’t need to censor the word cum here. aziraphale x gn!reader x Crowley smut (minors dni)

It should have been good. 

Months of flirting with both of them - really, months - reciprocated in kind: long looks across dinner tables; touching hands when cups of tea were passed; a lingering gaze on lips. They were interested in you and you’d be a fool not to see it. 

So you’d let them take you out late one night. To a little bar where the three of you shared a deep conversation and a bottle of expensive merlot tucked away in a low-lit corner. Aziraphale traced his fingers up your inner thigh, Crowley reached in to gently take your earlobe between his teeth. 

There was an invitation you’d been waiting for, and you pounced at it. 

It should have been good. 

But even now, as you lie back and let them worship you with their bodies, self-consciousness creeps in. No matter how much you enjoy it - and you are enjoying it - there’s that nagging feeling in the back of your mind. The feeling that it’s pointless, that you aren’t going to get anywhere. That you’re going to ruin the whole thing. 

Without even realising it, a hot tear slips down your face and sinks into the feather pillow. Aziraphale notices and pauses immediately, inciting Crowley to do the same. 

“Darling, what’s the matter? Do you want us to stop?”

Aziraphale takes your hand in his and grips it, encouraging you to look at him. You swallow thickly. 

“Sorry. I’m just… oh god, it’s so silly…”

“It’s not silly if you’re upset. Tell us,” he says, softly, caringly. Crowley drops a reassuring kiss to your hip but goes no further. 

“I can’t… ah, you know,” you nod downwards. “It’s my medication. It makes it really hard for me to get there. I don’t want you to waste your time.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchange a look that you can’t quite decipher before both of them look back to you. 

“Don’t be daft. It’s not a waste of time if we’re with you,” Crowley muses, swiping his thumb in the soft pit of your elbow. The sensation on your skin makes you shudder. 

“But—”

“Do you want to?�� Aziraphale asks, pinning you with those beautiful brown eyes of his. “Do you want to come?”

He’s so earnest that you don’t find yourself embarrassed by the question. You just nod. 

Yes. More than anything. 

And then they’re on you again, soft and sweet. Aziraphale kisses you and you welcome his tongue into your mouth; Crowley nips a line down your sternum and settles on a nipple, teasing and biting. 

Their hands go between your legs. Your devil strokes you there, and your angel spreads you open and presses his fingers inside. 

“Oh,” you whisper, a wave of pleasure you’ve not felt before washing over you. 

“Just lie back,” Aziraphale hums, “let us do a little miracle. A tiny miracle won’t be noticed…”

Crowley chuckles with devilish delight at the idea, and you feel his magic surge into you. 

The orgasm Crowley gives you is white hot, burning like fire. Every part of your body is deliciously inflamed. Every sense working overtime, every nerve firing directly into your brain and flooding you with pleasure. You gasp, but it’s not over yet - as you ride the wave of it Aziraphale takes you there again. When he makes you come it rides over your body like a soft tide, caressing the inside of you, eking out your pleasure as he works you with his magic fingers. 

You come over their hands and collapse, not even aware you’d been tensing your body so much. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, astounded. Crowley scoffs. 

“She didn’t have anything to do with it.”

You bring him up for a kiss as Aziraphale kisses down to between your legs, preparing for his second miracle of the night. 

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @idontmeanto@smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world

[madebypointlesswords]

just for funsies: books im currently reading

I cannot, for the life of me, read just one book at the time. I've tried multiple times and I just can't. It's most likely my untreated ADHD but oh welllll, have fun with my silly little books and go right ahead and judge my taste in the tags <3

The Iliad, Homer

Honestly such a fun book. I'm reading it very slowly though, because I want to savour each sentence. It's a thrifted version that someone else annotated and I got it for like, 7 euros? The annotations are very cute and fun to read while reading the actual book and it made me consider doing the same (annotating a book and then donating it to thrift so some random stranger can delight in my silly thoughts). Achilles is a bit of a dick but I like him that way. Diomedes is my absolute favourite (together with Patroclus).

This is the edition I have

1984, George Orwell

This book was an impulse buy from my favourite bookstore. I'm enjoying it thorougly, and I mainly bought it because I was going to see a play inspired by it that week and planned to read it first. I got through 50 pages. Orwell's style is a delight though, I have no notes. I'm currently like, one quarter into the book.

My edition (I'm looking for Animal Farm in the same style. I know it exists I just keep finding other ones and it irks me.)

Good Omens, Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

Tumblr (and my best friend @mairrion) convinced me this year to watch Good Omens right when season 2 came out. I curse you all for the brainrot you have given me. Literally why did you have to do this to me. I bought the book very recently (this monday) and I'm 1/5 into the book. The writing is honestly so fun and I've laughed several times out loud on the bus while reading. Definitely recommend this to new (or old) fans of the series.

I got the edition with Crowley on the cover (they didn't have Aziraphales version but I still would have gotten Crowley's anyway). Mine's a tad different: the letters are golden, Terry is mentioned before Neil is, and Crowley's wine isn't red. Oh and there's a sticker advertising the series.

Little Thieves, Margaret Owen

Oh my god this book is fun. Delicious characterisation. Wonderful dialogue. Stunning worldbuilding. Honestly I am so angry at myself for not being able to read this cover to cover. Why am I LIKE this. The cover is also so extremely pretty what the fuck.

Just look at this

Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky

This book is a banger. It annoys me that I can't read it in one sitting. Because I genuinely LOVE it but I just fucking can't. I love it when Dostoevsky takes a break from the plot to remind us as readers that Raskolnikov is, in fact, very much a pretty boy. Peak comedy right there.

I got the Wordsworth classics edition because it was only 4 euros at my favourite bookstore again (i apologise this is the best picture I have)

The Ruthless Lady's Guide to Wizardry, C.M. Waggoner

I got this book today from one of my best friends and I've read only one chapter but holy hell I am hooked. This is amazing. This is fun. This is exactly what I want. Chaotic, sapphic and unhinged slightly evil women are my drug of choice and this is a heroin shot. Live laugh love Dellaria Wells.

also look at the pretty cover mmmm

The Darkening Age (The Christian Destruction of the Classical World), Catherine Nixey

My first non fiction book I think. Nixey's writing is exquisite and I am loving this book with all my heart. It's educative, interesting and just overall, a wonderful experience to read. I do encourage everyone to take it with a grain of salt, but the author has many, many cited works, so I'm not saying that you have to be overly critical of every sentence, just that the author is (just like any other human being) a bit biased.

btw the cover is pretty too :) but I just can't find a picture of it.

[tonydaddingham]

:D hi again!! oh goodness im so excited about this whole shooting stars/rain symbolism im delighted you feel the same!!! and i absolutely agree with you about crowley taking the blame so to speak? thinking about the difference between aziraphale having doubts and crowley having questions - i should rewatch that scene but i think there's something interesting to examine there. i feel like we've attributed aziraphale's 'bad boy' streak and crowley's kind heart to just inherently being Them, but your idea that aziraphale was the one who was supposed to fall is SO intriguing to me in that aspect heheh >:]

about metatron: i think the main associations are, at least islamically the link between the prophet ezra/uzair (the different names are the anglicised and arabic spellings :)) like you mentioned and metatron being the angel of the veil. there's definitely a lot more discussion in jewish literature but i am not even a little bit qualified to talk about that :( further reading for the both of us i think! in terms of GO i doubt the prophet links will be explored - potentially the idea that the prophet ezra and therefore metatron? has been historically viewed as the son of God? however from what i know of islam and can tell from judaism that theory is pretty universally denied because of the absolute divinity of God (has no partners, no children etc etc)

the book of life! yes so we have uh a version of the angel/devil on your shoulder except we believe they're two angels who don't influence you but just write down all your good and bad deeds - these are compiled on the day of judgement and given to you in the right/left hand depending on your final judgement. not sure about any scratching out though! once you're judged, its heaven or hell and your earthly deeds are no longer needed. oh, and as far as i know, only humans have a book of deeds.

oh and also i am incredibly intrigued by your theories about the Fall and what aziraphale & crowley do or don't remember - i am sort of hedging my bets on the idea that early demon crowley didn't remember much about being an angel, and slowly got his memories back, potentially on purpose rather than a gradual return ("it hurts to remember" "i know. do it anyway.") - 🌙

hey 🌙anon!!!✨ ahhhh glad that it interested you!!!

metatron: noted, i definitely need to do some further reading, to see where things align!!! but thank you for clarifying ezra/uzair, that was confusing me slightly, but that makes sense✨

book of deeds: mhmm cool, that matches up from what i understood from research, that's good! interesting to know though that only humans have them... because that might (?) support my thoughts on what the BoL means for angels (ie i don't think it means what michael, beelzebub, and crowley think it to mean in s2... and instead for angels writes out angels' angelicness/causes them to fall).

im still somewhat in two minds about crowley's memory; i do think that there may be missing parts about the fall specifically (whether instigated by heaven or bc of the trauma, not sure!), but i do think some of crowley's 'missing memories' like re: furfur might just be down to AWCW being a bit of a knob, and didnt bother to remember anyone... crowley (well, both of them are tbh) is a unreliable narrator in my eyes, so it may well be a mix of everything!!!

thank you again for this, i really do appreciate it!!!✨💕

[adorkwithhats]

Today on the Cashier-Car salesman au: 

The lads dance and laugh until uh oh  f e e l i n g s. 

First post of 2020! And what a post, been working on this for the past week and i’m quite happy with it even though some of the dialogue it’s kinda wonky and probably a little ooc but who cares? this au it’s all about being weird, silly and fluffy and i love that. 

[Image description: A digital 7 page comic of Crowley and Aziraphale from Good Omens on a modern au setting. 

 Page 1- Aziraphale is sitting at a cashier counter writing on a block of paper. Crowley is to his right, leaning in the counter. “Aziraphale are you done already? You’ve been staring at those paper for ages!” he asks, looking tired and a little grumpy. “It’s only been 5 minutes Crowley, and I’m almost doe. Just be patient my dear” calmly responds Aziraphale. Then Crowley lean back with a groan and loudly says “But im so bored!” and as he leans back he notices something offscreen. 

Page 2- Crowley walks off screen away from the counter with a smile as Aziraphale continues his work but soon it interrupted by a radio being turned on offscreen and Crowley changing to different stations trying to find one with usic he prefers. Aziraphale raises his head from the papers confused.  

Page 3: Aziraphale puts his pen down and look to where Crowley left. He tries to ask what Crowley is doing but it’s interrupted by Crowley finding a station that it’s playing Dancing Queen by ABBA. Crowley exclaims in surprise how it’s been so long since he heard the song and starts gleefully singing along and again, now also gigglin, Aziraphale ask what Crowley is doing.   

Page 4: “Killing time and boredom Angel!” Crowley interrupts his singing and answers while starting to dance. “Well that’s nice...”Aziraphale says with a smile “But I don’t think I will be able to concentrate on work with your...delightful singing”. Crowley moves towards Aziraphale as the music continues playing and says “Then take a break and come sing with me!!”. The later one blushes and looks startled.

Page 5: Aziraphale shyly looks away from Crowley. “I better not, Crowley. I’m not much of a singer and I still need to finish these papers before closing time” he says but it’s interrupted at the end by Crowley grabbing his hand and pulling him out of his seat. “Then dance with me! And i’ll do the singing for both of us!” he says as he grabs both of Aziraphale’s hands and pulls him away from the counter.“Wait?What?No! Crowley! Let me go!” responds flustered Aziraphale but not really trying to pull back. “Wrong song Angel! Come on Aziraphale! Here comes the best part”  Crowley laughs and then continues singing along the radio “And when you get the chance~”

Page 6: Still holding hands, Crowley pulls them to spin in circles as he sings the chorus of the song and Aziraphale interrupts while laughing , asking him to stop but not really meaning it. “You’re being ridiculous! This is ridiculous!” “And? Come on Angel! Sing with me!” they laugh as they spin and the music continues playing in the background. They stop spinning, still laughing loudly, leaning closer to each other in an almost hug, with Crowley resting his chin on Aziraphale’s head and  Aziraphale resting his face on Crowley's chest. 

Page 7: Then the realized how close they are to each other, both startled and blushing. Fast they separate of the embrace, their faces still red, and look away from the other awkwardly. “I-uh ngk” Crowley mumbles. “I-I should probably finish those papers” Aziraphale interrupts. “Yeah...I’ll go turn off the radio, so you an concentrate” nervously responds Crowley.  “Oh um...Thanks dea-Crowley”. Thing are silent for a few second until Aziraphale timidly asks “Does sushi sound good for you? After i’m done with these?” To which Crowley quiqly answers “Y-yeah, sure Angel.”. End ID] 

[hereyougo-flamingsword]

a Reverse!Omens snippet of the two Holy Water scenes from the show

(Edit: i fucking forgot to mention that this was inspired by discussion of @rolanslide’s Fairly Decent Omens roleswap AU, thats where i took the name Azazel from, I just monkey brained posted this at first im sorry)

They met, in 1862, in St. James’ park, next to the duck pond. The 1860s were one of the only times where Azazel and Crowley agreed on fashion. Crowley was always delighted to acclimate himself to the trends of the time, and Azazel’s penchant for waistcoats and top hats had won out over the desire to be what he called a “fashion disaster.”

So they stood with matching silhouettes, an angel and a demon dressed in white and black, respectively. 

“Listen,” Crowley said, staring out into the pond, “I’ve been thinking. In case it all goes pear-shaped. I want you to have protection.”

“Are you going to hire me a BODYGUARD, dear boy?” asked Azazel, amused.

“I’m serious, Azazel. I know how dangerous hell is-”

“You REALLY don’t-”

“-and I want you to have some….insurance.”

Crowley pulled a small bottle out of the sleeve of his white coat.

Azazel’s eyes widened. “Is that-”

“Yes. Take it, quick. Walls have ears. Well, ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must d-”

Azazel shoved Crowley’s hand away and took a step back. 

“Are you trying to KILL me?” he hissed. “Hoping to get rid of me once and for all?”

“I’m just trying to HELP,” assured Crowley, “Just in case one of, you know, YOUR lot finds out about this, you can-”

“So then you are assuming, Crowley,” Azazel interrupted face brimming with barely-controlled fury, “That since I am a DEMON, I should want to maim and kill my own kind?”

“Azazel, I’m just preparing for the worst case scenario! Please, you know me, we’ve had this arrangement for centuries would you just TRUST me-”

“I don’t TRUST angels!” Azazel outbursted, far too loudly for their setting, “Not anymore! Ever since-”

Azazel clammed back up, and unclenched his fists, settling for clasping his hands in front of his belly protectively as he fixed Crowley with an icy stare.

“Take your-your act of divine kindness ELSEWHERE, Crowley,” he hissed through his teeth, “I don’t need your HELP.”

He stormed off.

-

By 1967, Crowley had gotten himself a car, a new hairstyle, and some MUCH better sunglasses. His meeting with Witchfinder Seargent Shadwell had been...interesting, to say the least, but he was very glad to be heading home for the night.

But when Crowley got back into his car, Azazel was there, in the passenger seat, shaking like a leaf.

“Azazel,” Crowley breathed, “what happened to you?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, “Made the, uh...wrong duke of hell angry. I only just got away.”

“Are you okay? What happened? Do we need to get out of here?” he asked, looking around.

Azazel waved at him. “No, no, I took care of it. That isn’t what I’m here for.”

“What are you here for?” asked Crowley.

Azazel paused, taking several deep breaths before continuing.

“I’ll um,” he swallowed hard, “I’ll take that holy water now.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. 

“After everything you said?” he could only say, dumbly.

“Yes. Because you were right, Crowley. If something goes wrong...it’s best to have insurance.”

Crowley fumbled in his jacket pocket for the bottle that he had been carrying around for the past hundred and five years. He explained this away to his superiors as an extra weapon of protection between him and the forces of Hell, of course, but in reality he was waiting to do just what he was doing right now--carefully, reverently, passing the bottle of holy water into this particular demon’s hands. 

And so Azazel took it, holding it as delicately as a newborn child.

“Some people might think it’s foolish,” Azazel said carefully, “To trust a demon of hell with holy water. One never knows what they might do with it.”

He oh-so-carefully stowed it inside the pocket of his coat.

“I wouldn’t give you this, if I didn’t trust you,” Crowley said, “To, ah, use it wisely, I mean.”

Azazel nodded, and swallowed hard, looking up into Crowley’s eyes. 

“I trust you,” he said, quietly, softly, and then in the blink of a miracle, he was gone.

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Okay!!! Desperate for twinyards :D!!! Will Aaron ever found out that erin takes care of him when he is drunk? And will he find out that Aaron cares for him and will there ever be a point where the things he said when he is drunk would be said when be isnt? Gosh im such trash for your fem!andreil

I’m so sorry these asks keep taking so long! They take me thirty years to get to and then they turn out really bad. One day I’ll start creating quality content. Until then, have this. 

In honor of Spoopy Month, it’s Halloween themed!!!!! (I borrowed a big chunk of it from my canon compliant fic Love of my Life but I just really like that part of the story. Sorry :))

“I never thought Crowley and Aziraphale would ever return to Eden,” Ronnie said as the Monsters made their way to the bar. Ania smiled. Erin scowled. “Aw don’t scowl at me like that, Angel.” Ronnie barely dodged the heels Erin chucked at her. With a broad smile, Ronnie turned her attention to Aaron. “I’m sorely disappointed to see that you’re not the Archangel Micheal.” Aaron glared at her but his annoyance didn’t last. 

Aaron could never stay mad at Ronnie for long. For the longest time, Ronnie had been the only ray of sunshine in Aaron’s dreary life. The middle child and only daughter of a rich widower, Ronnie was free to do as she pleased while her father groomed her brothers to inherit his fortune. Having four brothers would be more than enough for most people but Ronnie hadn’t hesitated to adopt Aaron into her little band of miscreants. In the years before Erin’s arrival, it was Ronnie (and at times, her brothers) that had been looking out for Aaron. She was just as much his sister as Erin was. That was what made their relationship so hard for him to wrap his head around. He’d given up trying to make sense of how they could have gone behind his back like that long ago but on nights out at Eden’s he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. 

“Earth to Mikey,” Ronnie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Come on, we’re toasting you’re little cheerleader. To Katelyn,” Ronnie cried as she raised her own shot. “For breathing -or maybe blowing- some life into Aaron!” Aaron shrieked at the crude joke as his family laughed, downing their shots. Aaron’s brain short-circuited at the sight of Erin downing her shot to the toast. She just wants to drink, Aaron told himself as he regained control of his thoughts. Curling himself into his shoulders, he stood apart as Ronnie caught up with the others.

“Aaron,” Josten said as she nudged his foot with her boot. “Erin said to grab a table.” Aaron nodded and headed off to search for one. Despite the pounding music, he heard Josten following him. He risked a backward glance only to find her watching him. He growled but Josten’s face remained blank. She’s been spending too much time with Eri, he thought as he went back to shouldering his way through the crowd. Finally, he found a table in the back of the club with just enough chairs for them. Without hesitating, he sank into one only to find it covered in something sticky and white. 

“Oh Hell no,” he screamed as he leaped up. Josten peered over at his seat before doubling over in a fit of laughter. “Fuck off, Josten.” He snatched the paper towels she offered him out of her hands and did his best to clean himself off before kicking over the chair. 

“I see temper tantrums run in the family,” Josten remarked. Aaron looked over at her. She was staring out across the dancefloor, a soft smile on her face. Following her gaze, he spotted Erin flickering in and out of view from where she still stood at the bar. A pang shot through his chest. Ania looked at Erin the same way Erik looked at Nicky- the same way Katelyn looked at him. 

“Damn you, Josten,” he said, more to himself than her. 

“I’m already damned,” she replied anyway. “I’m damned to spend the rest of eternity in love with your sister but if that isn’t damnation at its best, I don’t know what is.”

The world tilted beneath Aaron’s feet. Love. Ania had said she loved his sister. His Erin. His Little Doe. Tears spilled from Aaron’s eyes. “If you hurt her…” he said, his voice breaking before trailing off entirely as he gulped for air. 

“She’ll kill me herself,” Ania answered easily. She reached a hand out and carefully wiped a tear from his face. “Don���t cry. Eri’ll skin me alive if you do.” 

“Does she even care?” he asked. Aaron tried to smile as he asked it but he knew it came out as more of a grimace than a smile. A wave of sadness crashed down over him at the sound of his own words. 

"Of course she cares, you cracked walnut," Josten snapped. As the strobing lights passed over her countenance Aaron could see the fury on her face. "I've only known her a year. You've known her for three? Four? How the hell can you not-" Josten stopped short. "It's because you're always drunk," she said quietly. 

"No. That's Kevin," Aaron said. 

"Whenever we're here. Whenever we go home, you're too drunk to remember." 

"Remember what?" 

Josten worried her lower lip, weighing her words "Don't drink tonight." She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could protest. "Trust me. You'll see."

"Trust a liar?" 

"I wouldn't lie about Erin." It sickened Aaron to know she was telling the truth. For the remainder of the night, to Kevin's delight, Aaron discreetly pawned his drinks off to him. Where Erin excelled at faking the drug-induced mania she’d lived with for the last two years, Aaron excelled at faking a drunken stupor. Or at least, he usually did. Keeping up the act was much harder than Aaron anticipated. He was far too preoccupied keeping an eye on his sister to fully concentrate. A few rounds in, he gave up watching her in favor of retreating to the dance floor. At least there, he wouldn’t be under her constant scrutiny. 

He was wrong. Each time the crowd parted enough for him to have a clear view of the ledge where he’d left them, he found Erin’s eyes trained on him. No matter where he went or what he did, she was watching him. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead. Had she seen through his ruse? Did she know he was faking? 

There was nothing Aaron could do now but pray. He passed the remainder of the night on the floor with Nicky. Around 11:50, Ronnie called out for the final round. Josten was by Aaron’s side in an instant. 

“Throw your legs onto Nicky’s lap in the car. And talk to Kevin about something- anything. Make him laugh.” Aaron broke his facade to shoot a confused look at her. “Just do it,” Josten pleaded. Aaron ground his teeth together as he considered his options. After a moment he gave her a sharp nod and made his way over to the counter with her to collect the final round. 

In the car ride home, Aaron did as he was told. He threw his legs over Nicky’s and leaned heavily against Kevin. Kevin wrapped an arm around Aaron, who tensed immediately. Kevin Day was not known for his compassion nor for his affection. Catching the warning look Josten shot him as she buckled her seatbelt, he forced himself to relax. For once in his life, Kevin wasn’t talking about Exy. Instead, he was giving a lecture on the unabridged history of the LGBT community. Aaron tentatively slid his own commentary into the lesson. To his relief, both Kevin and Nicky laughed. He choked on the soda he was drinking when he saw the upward curl of Erin’s lips in the dashboard mirror. 

Nicky got out of the car first as it rolled to a stop on the drive. He toppled face-first into the grass and laughter burst out of Aaron. He felt something pressing at his back and before he knew it, he toppled out of the car too.

“You drunk bastard,” Erin said. Aaron’s heart stopped as he rolled onto his back. Erin was standing over him, a brilliant grin plastered to her face. “That’s what you get for drinking so much” She bent down and scooped him up in an easy, obviously practiced, motion. Aaron was too shocked to say a word. 

 Aaron was suddenly thirteen again. He was sitting curled up on his mother’s bed with the handset pressed to his ear. A woman's voice drifted through it. She was talking about a girl named Erin. The woman was gushing about how happy she was to have found Erin’s birth mother, and her brother too. Brother, Aaron thought. He felt his heart racing in his ribcage. I’m- I’m a brother! A twin brother! Aaron had been over the moon at the very thought of meeting his sister. 

        The voice of his mother sent him crashing back down to earth. She hissed at the woman to keep her fat mouth shut. She didn't want to know anything about Erin. She wanted nothing to do with her and she certainly did not want Aaron seeing her again either. She slammed the phone down so hard that Aaron jerked the phone away from his face. Silently, returned the phone to its cradle and crawled back to his own room. Drawing his legs in, he tried to hold in his grief. Hot tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook. Anger coursed through his veins. Clenching his jaw, he unfurled himself and stalked into the kitchen. He grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen and ran out of the house. He raced down the block to the park. Seated at one of the picnic tables, his pen flew across the page. He wasn't quite sure what he'd written, only that he had to send it before his mother ever found out. He stopped by the fountain on his way out of the park. He would need money to send the letter. With a grimace, he peeled his shoes and socks off. Wading through the fountain, he collected every penny, nickel, and dime he could find. This isn't stealing, he told himself. They threw their money in here. Even if it is, it doesn't matter. This is for my sister. This is for Erin.

        Every day for the next two weeks, Aaron checked the mail in the hopes of finding a response to his own letter. When it came, Aaron nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He sat down on the steps in front of the house. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the letter. A brilliant smile plastered itself across his face when he saw the chicken scratch that filled the page. It looked just like his own handwriting. Unfortunately, his smile had been quick to fade. Erin had only written back to tell Aaron that she didn’t want him around. She was more than happy to remain with Cassidy and her new brother, Drake. Aaron grabbed desperately at his chest. It felt as though some hand had forced its way into his ribcage and ripped his heart out.  New brother, Drake. Tears fell onto the page. Ink ran, blurring the words into one another. Aaron ripped up the remnants of the letter up and hurled them in the bin. He collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Great, he thought. Fucking great. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I hope I never meet Erin or her new brother Drake.

But Aaron had. He had been sat down across from her in a juvenile detention facility, three feet away from her, separated by a four-inch pane of bulletproof glass. Looking at Erin was like looking through a funhouse mirror, it was him but something wasn’t quite right. Sure, Erin’s hair was longer than his, ending harshly at the edges of her jaw and she had a few more moles than he did but that wasn’t it. Maybe it was the seemingly permanent downwards tug of her lips. Maybe it was the bold set of her shoulders that exuded a confidence Aaron could only dream of.  

Maybe it was her eyes. They were the same brown as his but where his were full of pain and fear, hers were empty. Two empty pits stared back at him from across the table. The glass may have been designed to protect him from Erin’s fists but it did nothing to save him from her eyes. So empty. So soulless. Aaron had once heard that there had been a time when people had refused to take photos for fear that they stole the souls of the photographed. At the time, Aaron had scoffed at the people for being so stupid. Now, Aaron understood. Sitting before his sister, he feared that if he stared too long into her eyes, she might steal his to replace the one she lacked. They were so cold. So empty. So loveless. On the plane back from Cali, Aaron closed his eyes only to find his sister engraved on the back of his lids. 

Back in Columbia, Aaron stood before Nicky’s full-length mirror. He’d tugged a skull cap down over his head. His bangs poked out from beneath, matching Erin’s to a T. He blinked and it really was Erin staring back at him in the mirror. Reaching a hand out, he traced a finger down her cheek. Her cold eyes stared back at him and realized why he couldn’t look directly at them. They were their mother’s eyes. When Tilda Minyard wasn’t drunk or high, she was empty. 

There wasn’t very much Aaron knew about his father other than the fact that his mother had eloped with him once she’d learned of her pregnancy. Tilda was three and a half months pregnant when Micheal Minyard died in a car crash. Depression coaxed Tilda back into old habits that Micheal had helped her break. She began drinking and chain-smoking despite the twins she bore within her. Both twins were born with fetal alcohol syndrome, manifesting in their stunted growth, ADHD, and Aaron’s dyslexia. Erin had developed a nicotine addiction as well.  It wasn’t until after Aaron had found out about his twin that Tilda had told him this. 

“I didn’t even want you,” Tilda mused as she took another swig from her whiskey bottle. “I wanted Erin but your names sound so similar that the shitty ass nurse fucked up and gave me the wrong one. You never stood a chance with me,” she said. “I was never going to love you.” Tilda swung the bottle at the side of Aaron’s head. It connected with his skull and rattled his brain but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the words from it. 

Aaron pressed his forehead up to the mirror. Up to Erin’s forehead. 

“Do you know why Mom doesn’t love us?” he whispered. “It’s because no one loved her. No one but Dad but he’s long gone. It’s his fault, you know? Luther’s, I mean. Mom is the way she is because her own brother didn’t love her enough. He didn’t love her enough to let her stay once she got pregnant. He didn’t love her enough to help her take care of us. He didn’t love her enough to protect you.” Tears slid down Aaron’s face as his grip on the mirror’s frame tightened. “Luther might not have loved his sister, but I’ll love you til the day I die.” Looking in the mirror, Aaron saw himself again but it wasn’t the same Aaron he’d grown accustomed to seeing. This one had fire. This one had fight. This one would protect his sister, no matter the cost. This one was going to save his sister from devolving into the monster their mother had become. 

That Aaron failed. Erin was just as cold and empty as their mother had been. That Aaron failed. Erin was forced to face Drake all on her own. Every night, he lay awake wondering what horrors his sister faced behind the pristine white walls of Easthaven. No amount of kisses and cuddles from Katelyn were enough to bury the weight of Aaron’s broken promise. Guilt and regret intertwined, winding around Aaron and choking the life out of him. He broke down constantly, reduced to a sobbing mess by the weight of his woes. 

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. Erin was indifferent to him. Upon her return from Evermore, she hadn’t even spared him a passing glance. Instead, she’d fixated upon the child Josten had brought home. Aaron had never expected his sister to fawn over him. It wasn’t in her nature. Or so he had thought. It was because of this that Aaron couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that shot through him as he watched his sister’s shoulders soften when she held the baby. He could barely contain the scowl he felt tugging at his lips as Erin brushed her lips against the backs of Cleo’s hands.

  Cradling Cleo close he asked her, “What makes you so special? I know why Erin lets Ania have what she wants but what about you? You’re just a baby. I’m her brother. Am I not good enough for her?” Tears splashed down onto Cleo’s face and he hurried to wipe them off of her. As he did, he felt Cleo’s tiny hand wrap around his little finger. It was just barely big enough to encircle the single finger. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why.” He sat down on the couch and lay Cleo in his lap. She looked up at him curiously before her face split into a wide grin. “No wonder Mom wanted a daughter.” Cleo babbled at him and he chuckled softly. “You’re right. Maybe Luther was jealous too. I won’t be like him,” he swore again. “I’m not going to abandon Erin. Or you either.” 

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. If Josten made her happy, then so be it. If Cleo was the one she showered with love, then fine. But a small part of him wasn’t fine. Erin didn’t love him. His sister, his own flesh and blood, didn’t love him. It left a hole in his heart, one that even Katelyn couldn’t fill. Aaron hadn’t known what he’d have to give up to Katelyn but what he did was far worse than anything he could have imagined. There weren’t enough words in any language to express the anguish that washed over Aaron when Erin had picked Ania over him. He’d used Josten as bait for Erin to break her promise but a small part of him had wanted her to refuse. He’d wanted Erin to pick him over her. He’d wanted Erin to do the unthinkable and tell him that she loved him more than she wanted Ania. He’d wanted her to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. 

He wanted her to hold him the way she held him now as she carried him to the front door. Josten was already unlocking the door. She turned at the sound of Erin’s footsteps. A bright smile of her own burst out across her face. 

“Shut up, Ania,” Erin swore. 

“Haven’t said a thing,” Josten replied. She pushed open the door and let Erin pass. “Erin?” she asked as she followed them into the house. “Why do you only do these things when Aaron’s drunk?” To anyone else, it may have seemed like an innocent question. To Erin though? Getting anything from her was like pulling teeth. For half a second, Aaron didn’t expect her to answer. Then he remembered that it was Josten asking not him. A pang of bitterness pierced his heart as he felt his sister’s chest swell at the intake of a breath. 

“Because he’s nice to me,” she said. Aaron’s head jerked up but Erin wasn’t paying attention. She’d stopped walking. Her eyes were trained on a spot on the wall. “After I killed Tilda, he stopped talking to me entirely. Aaron loved Tilda, even if she didn’t deserve to be loved, and I took her away. I hate when you say you’re fine because that’s what I told myself whenever he ignored me. I told myself that I didn’t care. I did. Aaron’s favorite color is navy blue. Half of my closet is navy blue. Aaron’s favorite song is Young Blood. It’s on every one of my cassette tapes in the car. I hate cool ranch chips but I buy three bags every time I go to the store because Aaron loves them. Tilda didn’t deserve Aaron’s love but he loved her anyway. I don’t deserve Aaron’s love either. I-” A shaky breath rattled through Erin. “I just wanted him to love me too.” 

“I do,” Aaron blurted out. Erin snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice. 

“You’re not drunk,” she said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. Her eyes were dark and stony but this time Aaron didn’t look away. The longer he stared, the more apparent it was to him that they weren’t empty. Staring into them, he saw something flickering deep down inside.  

The truth about cameras is that they don’t steal your soul. They show you yours. No matter how perfect a picture may seem to others when a person looked too hard at their own, they saw what lurked beneath. It wasn’t that Erin had their mother’s eyes. It was that she had his. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he saw too much of himself. He saw the sad, empty creature he’d become. He saw the defeated, lonely creature he still was. Most people hailed Aaron as ‘the normal twin’, the Dr. Jekyll to her Mr. Hyde. No one realized how wrong they were. 

Erin was a fatalist at heart. To her, everything, every single thing, was predetermined. If the world believed her to be a monster, then that was what she’d be. She played her part and lived exactly the way people thought she would. It was all an act though. Behind every one of Erin’s monstrous acts, was a lonely little girl trying her hardest not to get left behind again. 

Unlike his sister, Aaron didn’t believe in fate. Every man made his own way in life, no matter the circumstances he faced to make it there. If that was true, then didn’t that make Aaron responsible for all the things that he’d done? Growing up, Aaron had done many things he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t matter who suffered so long as it wasn’t Aaron. If there was no fate, then wasn’t Aaron responsible for all the people he’d hurt? It wasn’t Erin who was a monster. It was him. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he was forced to face the monster he had become and it scared him. 

Aaron felt the support go out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. Erin spun on her heel and shoved past Josten. Neither of them moved until they heard the door to her bedroom slam shut. 

“I told you so,” Josten whispered. There were tears shining in her eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked herself. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked. 

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about this and now… she’ll never trust me again.” Her voice broke. 

“Ania-”

“Don’t, Aaron.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the house, nearly knocking over Kevin who was dragging Nicky in. 

“What the hell have you done to her?” Kevin snarled. Just the sight of a teary-eyed Josten was enough to sober him up. He abandoned Nicky and closed the space between himself and Aaron in the blink of an eye. Balling his fist in Aaron’s shirt, he shoved him against the wall. “I’m not asking again, Aaron.” This is what a brother should be, Aaron thought.

When Ania first arrived at Palmetto a year ago, she and Kevin were always at odds. No matter what she did, it was never enough for him. But that was because he knew she could be better. Nicky had made the mistake of mocking her once and Kevin and slammed him against the wall just as he held Aaron now. Erin intervened quickly, breaking them apart with a poisonous smile and a flash of steel but one thing remained:  Kevin Day, a man afraid of his own shadow, hadn’t hesitated to square up the second someone dissed Ania. And that was before he’d found out who she really was.

Kevin and Ania weren’t bound by blood the way the twins were. They’d chosen each other. Ania had chosen to follow Kevin out to Palmetto and Kevin had chosen to have her back. But hadn’t the twins done the same thing? Erin chose to move to Columbia and Aaron had chosen to protect her. Why had they failed where Kevin and Ania had succeeded? The two of them were just as broken as the twins. In fact, they were worse. Ania had lived her life in the shadows, jumping ship the second anyone started to get too close. Kevin had lived his life in the limelight, denied anything even resembling a friend. 

Even without knowing her, Kevin had looked upon the wretched creature that had been Ania Josten and wanted to offer her a future. He had wanted to offer her something to live for. Kevin would never be able to love Ania the way she needed to be but he wanted to give her the chance at a life where she could find someone who could. 

And he did. Kevin brought Ania to Palmetto and gave her a reason to keep going. He brought her to Erin, someone who could care for her the way she needed to be cared for. But what had Aaron done for his sister? He’d pushed her away the second things got hard. He’d denied her of the love he’d promised himself he’d give. He’d made her lonely. 

“How?” he croaked. “How do you do it?” Kevin frowned and his grip loosened.

“How what?” he asked.

“How do you always know what Ania needs?” Aaron had seen the way Ania ran to Kevin the second things fell apart. Too many times, he’d come back to the dorms to find her breaking down in Kevin’s arms. Each time he’d watched Kevin swaddle her shaking form in blankets and offer her things: a cassette player with only one tape, a bowl of vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate syrup, his laptop with an exy game already loaded. 

During Erin’s time at Easthaven, Aaron had found himself craving the smell of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t a smoker but the smell reminded him of Erin. One night, he finally caved and dragged himself to the corner store. He returned with a pack of cigarettes and another pint of strawberry ice cream. Every time Aaron passed by the corner store, he picked one up. He never ate a single one, though. Opening the fridge door, he realized there wasn’t any space left. Every inch of his fridge was filled with pints of strawberry ice cream. 

It should be empty. The fridge should be empty. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Aaron didn’t know when the tears started or how long he’d stayed knelt in front of the open fridge, only that Ania kicked it closed before sitting down on top of it. 

“There isn’t enough strawberry ice cream in the world to fix her,” she said. She handed him a tissue box and waited for him to blow his nose.

“Then what will?’ he asked. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ania said before unplugging the fridge. That was what Kevin said before he let go of Aaron entirely. With that, he left Aaron alone in the kitchen so he could lug Nicky up to his own room. 

Aaron sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs, picking at the table mats. It was early the next morning when he finally decided what to do. Actually, he didn’t decide. He just kind of stood up and started for the stairs. He didn’t even remember taking a single step. One moment he was at the kitchen table, the next he was standing in front of Erin’s door. He reached a hand out, tracing the letters on the door. The memory hit Aaron like a train. 

It had been a week after Erin had arrived in Columbia. Aaron’s name was already on the door and he had wanted to add hers to it too. Ever since he’d been old enough, Aaron had been working part-time just to keep himself and Tilda fed. In the months before Erin was set to come home, he’d picked up extra shifts to scrounge up the money he needed. With it, it went to the crafts store in the rich part of town. He picked out the four letters he needed and bought the highest quality paints he could find. On Friday, after practice, he’d broken into their mother’s liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing a swig, he found the courage to present his haul to Erin. It took some coaxing but he managed to convince her to sit on the floor with him on a pile of newspapers. Together the two of them painted the wooden letters black. Once they were dry, Aaron watched as his sister painted constellations onto them. 

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“Gemini,” she replied. 

“Astrology,” Aaron said as he crinkled his nose in disgust. Erin glanced at him, her lips just barely curling up. 

“Have you ever heard the story of Pollux and Castor?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“They were two brothers, twins, from Greek Mythology. They did everything together,” Erin said softly. “The two of them couldn’t live without each other. So, when Castor lay dying, Pollux called out to his father for help. Zeus saw his son’s pain and offered him a way to save his brother. Zeus offered Pollux the ability to share his immortality with his brother. Doing so would mean that neither of them could live normal lives again. They would no longer live here on Earth and they’d only have each other as company. Pollux agreed immediately. To him, his brother was more important than anything else in the world. So, Zeus turned the brothers into stars. Together, the two of them live side by side in the sky.”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely if you had only one person to talk to?” Aaron asked. 

“Not if it was you,” Erin replied. With that, she picked up the letters and moved them to the desk beneath the window. The two of them climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep. 

Aaron took a deep breath and knocked softly at his sister’s door. He stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. What if she didn’t answer? Aaron took a deep breath. He’d just try again later. Ania was right. What they’d done tonight had betrayed a great deal of Erin’s trust in them. If she didn’t answer, it was because he’d hurt her, just like he always did when he was sober. Aaron leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Eri,” he whispered. Just then the door opened and Aaron toppled forward again. Erin neatly sidestepped his falling form but caught him with an outstretched arm. “Eri-” he began. He stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Erin gave up waiting for him. She righted him and stepped back. Aaron took it as an invitation and entered her room. Aaron had never been inside his sister’s room. In the pale glow of the first rays of sunlight, he saw the dead roses suspended from her ceiling. A thousand photos covered the surface of the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were pictures of the Monsters. There was one of Nicky smiling brighter than the sun as Erik pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was one of Aaron shoving Matt, the two of them smiling. There was one of Wymack with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. There was one of Bee dressed up as a bumblebee. There were a lot of photos of Ania. One of them had been kissed with black lipstick. Erin was the only Fox that owned black lipstick. As Aaron inspected them he was aware of Erin at his back. 

“There aren’t any with us in it,” he said as he dragged his fingers over them.

“Yes, there is.” Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist and guided it to one all the way in the bottom corner. Its sides were crinkled from being taken out and replaced too many times. There was a fold down the center from when it was been folded in half, probably placed between the folds of a book. 

It was a photo featuring a pair of babies. Both of them had wispy blonde hair, most of which had been tucked beneath a little beanie. They were dressed in matching white onesies patterned with little sharks. They were two perfect, identical little babies. Erin laced her fingers through Aaron’s and he suddenly saw it. The two babies were holding hands too. Eyes closed, unable to even see one another, they had taken hold of each other’s hands. Babies didn’t have much strength, but the two of them were clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.  

 “Eri-” he croaked. 

“Yes or no?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said. Erin turned him to face her. She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. Tentatively, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Erin?” he asked softly. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“You were the best,” she said. “You still are.” For once, Erin’s eyes weren’t empty or angry. Instead, they were hard. Resolute. If anyone else had said it, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. Erin wasn’t a liar. Every word she said, she meant. 

“I can be better,” he offered. He watched as she worked her jaw, searching for what to say. 

“I think I can be, too,” she said. Time seemed to stop. Aaron watched as the smallest of smiles tinged his sister’s lips. The rays of the rising sun filtered through Erin’s thick curtains, illuminating the fading freckles that danced across her face, forming constellations of their own. It turned her pale hair, bound in a messy bun atop her head, into a halo of pure gold. Erin might have been dressed as an angel last night, but she looked more like one now than she had then.

[impala-dreamer]

I dont remember what season five was about... Like, im wracking my brain but i got nothing. I know season six was Soulless Sam and season four was... Apocalypse?? I need to rewatch 😣

s1 - Hey, Sammy! I know you’re like… doing stuff but… GET IN THE CAR. We gotta find Dad. Yes, yes, back for Monday. not a problem…

s2- Dude, I died. and then Dad died and then DEMONS AND REAPERS AND GHOSTS OH MY! OH SHIT SAMMY’S DEAD! Take my soul, bitch. Bring him Back.

s3- So like, I have a year to live, which is- whatever. I’ll be fine. Shut up. 

s4- Dude, hell was… fucking… Hell. Wow. Also. OMG THERE’S ANGELS? Fuck me. No really… yeah ok, maybe later. Seals? Like sea lions… or? Ok. no. Gotcha. Seals. don’t let em break. Oh Shit. SAM ARE YOU DRINKING BLOOD? WTF IS WRONG WITH - OMG YOU LET OUT LUCIFER. Dude. Not Cool. 

s5- WE are SOOO Fucked. Just Fucked. All the Fucked. We have to get Lucifer back in his Cage. We have to. Oh, great. Horsemen and Rings and Death and Pizza. Delightful. Can we catch a freakin break? I mean seriously- NO YOU CANT LET LUCIFER POSSESS YOU! Ok… fuckin… fine. But I’m NOT saying yes to Michael. NEVER. Oh God, Sam took a dive… great.

s6- Sam? Uh… you’re seriously creeping me out, man. Oh, Fanfreakintastic, he doesn’t have a soul! COME ON!

s7- Leviathans? What the fuck is a Leviathan? I just… I can’t, man. this is getting ridiculous. We can’t catch a freakin break… oh great, yeah, Cas is dead. Sam’s cookoobeans… I… if anything else goes wrong… FUCK! Not Bobby. You can’t… You can’t do this to me. I… this is all my fault. Somehow. It just is. shit. OK Cas is back. This is promising. Can you fix Sam? Kinda? Fuck it, I’ll take it. Now, listen here, Dick Roman…

s8- I am so so so so tired. Fuckin’ Purgatory. Do you have ANY IDEA what this year has been like? Oh, and Sam hit a dog. just … how nice for you. Prophets? Now we have to deal with Prophets? Are you fuckin- ya know what? Whatever. bring it on. Tablets? Gates of Hell Closing? Yeah, whatever. I’ll do it. Oh ffs, Sam! I just said I would do it… ya gotta stop. Well, at least we have a house now. House? No, I guess not. Underground Lair… yeah, I like that. Sigh… can I take a freakin nap already JFC…

s9- At least Sam’s alive? Kinda? Sort of? OK I fucked up. But in my defense… uh… well… I don’t know. Stop judging me! I don’t nitpick your every gut decision. Come on. I did what I had to do. So I let an angel possess my brother. There are literally hundreds of angels just walking around down here now. So what. He seemed ok. Until he was… well… not. Whatever. Listen, I can fix this. I got the Mark of Cain… this is fine. Everything will be fine…

s10- Imma fuck everything up and everyone’s gonna love it. This is so fucking amazing. I… I feel free for the first time in my life. I really needed this. it’s been - COME ON! I dont even get to be a demon… ya know… Everytime I get something sort of ok it gets ripped away, shut up, I know being a demon isn’t exactly like going to Disney Land but come on. Now I got no powers but I still got this friggin Mark that’s trying to turn me again. I”m fucking exhausted!! Oh… Idea… I could just… yeah… I’ll just have Death take me out of play. that’s… that’s brilliant. JFC AGAIN!? I can’t win. I really can’t. 

s11- So… she’s kinda hot… but wants to eat the world. That’s fun. Where the heck is God? I mean… it’s time to come out and get back in the game, dude. Cas… You’re… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Have we learned nothing about Lucifer and saying yes?? What is wrong with you guys? I will NEVER say yes to Michael and you two just go around yessing Lucifer whenever he asks. I mean.. .for the love of - Chuck! Hey! This is great… welcome back. Could ya… help? Thanks so much… Oh, no, I don’t need anything, that’s fine…

s12- Mom? Like… Mom. Mom. Wow. OK. Yeah. Let’s… that’s… mhm. Where the fuck is Sam? Oh my god who are these British Asshats!? OK… OK… let’s all just… relax for a minute because at the very least, Lucifer is back in his… FOR FUCKS SAKE ARE YOU KIDDING ME CROWLEY?? COME ON, MAN! OK… so…it can’t be that bad. what’s he gonna do? I mean… really… Why do I ask these questions? HE KNOCKED SOME CHICK UP ARE YOU SERIOUS? Ok… Ya know what? I give up. Let’s go… deal with this baby or whatever. 

s13- That… did not… go well… I… Cas is gone. Mom is gone. Lucifer- fuck you- is gone. and we’re stuck with this… this… Jack Thing. I… we gotta open that rift again, man. We gotta get mom back. OMG CAS IS ALIVE! I… one good thing after all this bullshit. Yes. Thank you. And… the kid is lost in Apocalypse World and Lucifer is back and what the shit. Can we have like two minutes in between crisis? no? awesome. OK. Cool. Everyone’s safe— OH COME ON! YOu can’t just TAKE SAM! What the shit… Ok. OK. YES. YES, Michael, you may use me for whatever. just… ya know, vacate when we’re done here. promise? Awesome… . YOU MOTHERFUCKER.

[sarinataylor]

Idk if u still taking hcs right now but could you possibly elaborate on that good omens joger au you mentioned a while back? Im curious and excited to hear more

i am always taking hcs (this is a shout out to the anon who sent me an angsty roger prompt like two months ago: ilu and i am so sorry. i have ideas! something will appear eventually! i just gotta get this chapter of my…. actual fic out. i promise i havent forgotten u bb)

ok! so i had to like. scroll waaaaaay back to find what i’d said lmao but there’s basically two ways this goes right? book!au or show!au

show!au

roger is crowley and john is aziraphale

roger, who didn’t mean to fall! he just asked questions! that’s all!!! but then, that’s all it took back in the day…. and who most definitely has a vintage bentley that hasn’t aged a day (despite blowing up, like clockwork, at the 6th hour of the 6th day of the 6th month, every sodding year), who swans about in sunglasses no matter the day or time

and john who’s always been a little bit of a bastard, when it comes to it, but who likes his home comforts and really, really just doesn’t want to get involved if he can help it (but oh, he doesn’t mind being tempted)

roger has never been able to decide whether or not he regrets falling, really. sometimes he rages against himself, against God, against the unfairness of it all. he rages at the stacked deck, and at his own stupidity in questioning Their Mother. but sometimes the darkness feels like a freedom that was worth sacrificing his grace in payment to. sometimes, when he’s faking reports back to hell (who haven’t bothered him in several hundred years other than to send him commendations for the terror humans inflict upon one another) so that john isn’t spirited away back to the gilded (prison) gates of heaven…. sometimes it feels like freedom, and he wants to laugh in God’s face for, yes, he missed the embrace of Home sometimes, the celestial harmonies of his brothers and sisters which had their match in the damned screams below; sometimes he missed the feel of his grace warming the gap in his chest where a human would have a heart, but if he had that he wouldn’t have this. he wouldn’t have the delights of the humans who had the burden, the joy, of choice in thanks to him. he wouldn’t have the warmth of john’s grace that had once rubbed him raw as they stood upon the ruins of eden, but now set him alight in all the best ways that no poet could ever hope to describe. 

(it is the year 4703 AD, the humans are growing and learning and improving at every turn, as they do. “you once said you didn’t mean to fall,” john says thoughtfully, watching him pensively over the rim of his cup of tea. the ritz still stands, as it always will if roger has anything to say about it. it says something important, he thinks, that a miracle is a miracle whether the entity performing it is of heaven or of hell. “and?” roger replies, picking at the slice of cake john had ordered for him. an indulgent smile had lurked about the corners of his mouth as he had done so, as it often did when he looked at roger. it was chocolate and strawberry, but it tasted of apples. everything tasted of apples to roger, and everything always would.“i was thinking,” john said, blowing across the surface of his cup as if it would ever be anything but the perfect temperature when he sat across from roger. if roger had the ability, nothing would ever be anything less than perfect for john. but then, that kind of thinking had the trappings of heaven around it. no, a little imperfection was much better. “that it must have been ineffable.”“oh, sa-, go-, someone have mercy,” roger huffed, shoving his plate away from him with a clatter. around him the servers paused in their movements. a clatter was not meant to sound in the ritz, a place reserved only for the small tinkle of champagne glasses clinking in a toast or teaspoons on saucers. “not this shit again.”“it must have been!” john insisted, and chucked his teaspoon across the table at him. “i still think about it, you know. the apocalypse that wasn’t.”roger still thought of it too. he was waiting for the next one. sometimes he thought john was, also. but sometimes he thought that john was wishing for the best instead. “and i was thinking that the Almighty…. well, she knows all, yes?”“that is sort of her whole thing, yes, John.”“well then! she knew you had to fall! to be on the other side, to be a spy in the ranks, so to speak.”“i’m a demon, john,” roger said, reaching for calm. it was hard, so hard, to hear john, after all these years together, still trying to justify their relat– friendship. to wave away his occultism as if it were merely a guise for some hidden angelicism that lay below the surface. roger was a demon, this he knew. he may not know whether he was happy about this state of affairs, a much as he were capable of such an emotion nowadays anyway, but he knew what he was. “yes, but–”“there’s no but, john,” roger snapped, and around them the servers, the patrons, all the annoying, bumbling humans stood and left at his wish. john, looking around them, sighed and gave him a disappointed look. roger fought the urge to bring them all back. “fuck all of that shit about not meaning to fall. fuck that. i knew what i was doing when i did it. i chose to fall because i wanted to know the answers to my questions and She wasn’t giving them. i was willing to fall for the answers to my questions, and i did. i wont give Her the credit for my choices when she’s done fuck all, all these years.”he had been expecting shock, maybe. perhaps hurt, at the harshness of his vitriol towards their Mother. john smiled at him, instead.“very good,” he murmured, taking a sip of his tea. “another coffee, old friend?”)

and john???? john feels so very guilty all of the time. how can he not? roger, his oldest and dearest friend, is so tormented by Questions. questions which he fell to have answered and yet have merely multiplied as his change of circumstances have allowed him, in some degree, the burden and joy of choice. roger fell to have his questions answered, and john steals the answers he desires and is allowed, by the grace of Mother, to remain part of the heavenly host. where is the fairness of that? 

(john owns a bookshop. he owns a bookshop and he hoards the answers of every question he’s ever thought to ask in its four walls. he hoards the answers of every question he’s ever thought to ask and they sit on his tongue, heavy and waiting to be spilled into roger’s waiting mouth if only he would ever ask but he never does. roger never asks, and john never tells. roger never asks for to asks would be to tempt too far, and john never tells for to tell would be to admit to knowing that which he should not, that which he has not suffered to know)

  sometimes john thinks of falling. he thinks of falling and he thinks of being caught and he hates himself for his cowardice

(roger would rip hell asunder before he allowed them to sully his angel)

[mortuarybees]

B F G !

B: Any of your stories inspired by personalexperience?

if heavy projection onto aziraphale is “inspired by personal experience,” then yes, absolutely all of it is. particularly the scene in the supermarket when crowley and aziraphale are bickering about if they should change their milk bc aziraphale read something in the paper and crowley is Suffering; it’s heavily, heavily inspired by every interaction i’ve ever had with my dear best friend of nine years, the long-suffering and good-natured @femmeaziraphale who has had to listen to me going on about An Article I Read every single day and reacts much the same way poor crowley does

F: Share a snippet from one of your favoritedialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Oh, Crowley,” he sighs against him, and pushes him back so he lays against the chaise. He kisses his forehead and begins,  “‘How do I love you?’”  He presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth,  “‘Oh, this way,’”  the sharp line of his jaw,  “‘and that way,’”  and he unwinds the scarf, letting it fall to the floor,  “‘Oh,’”  he says, and sighs,  “‘happily,’”  he kisses his neck,“‘Perhaps I may elaborate by demonstration?’”  Crowley’s trembling hands cradle his head as he kisses the hollow place at the base of his throat. “‘Like this,’” he says, kissing his collarbone, “‘and like this,’” he says, his steady fingers finding the button of his pants.

“No more of that,” Crowley gasps, and Aziraphale pauses, smiling.

“You remember,” he says, delighted, though he’s misquoted just a bit. He thought Crowley had been asleep when he’d read it.

“What? No, I mean,” he gestures at him, “you first, right?”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale frowns.

“Well, don’t you want…” he trails off, and turns red.

“Don’t you want me to…”

“I’d like it this way,” he says. “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” he says faintly. “Alright.”

most of it is mary oliver but i guess im proud of how i incorporated the poetry BUT MORE THAN THAT i’m just extremely Into aziraphale expressing love and care and devotion and true reverence (i also considered when he quotes psalms 63:3, “because thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee” to him for the same reason) for crowley and i guess that’s what captured that the best? also i find writing explicit scenes almost impossible so muddling through (mainly leaning on poetry lmao) is something i’m proud of

G: Do you write your story from start to finish,or do you write the scenes out of order?

what i do is at the top of the doc i put a bunch of inspo (for example, deft, sweet gesture has i will by mitski, all the mary oliver poetry, “i’ll take care of you / it’s rotten work / not to me, not if it’s you”, the Kiss Gone Wrong, david tennant as richard ii bc it’s what made me wild about a hairwashing scene, want by clementine von radics, pink in the night by mitski (”and i know i’ve kissed you before, but / i didn’t do it right / can i try again, try again, try again”), and a whole bunch of other stuff.) usually i have A Scene that i’ve already written (for all i need, darling, it was the giant “oh, it’s you” block of ungainly text) and i’ll work around that, mostly in order? just bc it keeps things in order in my head, and i’ll keep referring back to the inspo to sort of. guide the mood. and if i feel i’ve gotten off track i’ll jump back and rewrite or add things, or take them out. basically it’s a giant mess until i get fed up and end it jsdlkf

thank you for the ask❣️

[butiaintgonnaloveem]

Tiff’s WTF*ck Challenge

Hey friends!

I’ve been feeling pretty disconnected - less reading, less reblogging, less interaction - since my job change and having less time to spend around here, so why not fix that with a writing challenge?! Yes? Yay!

One of my old favorite sources of internet humor is Sleep Talkin’ Man. And your assumption is correct, he talks in his sleep. His wife started recording him and posting the clips online and it’s hilarious.

SO - for this challenge, I’ve collected some of the absurd, inappropriate, foul, and funny quotes from that delightful fella and now challenge you to incorporate it into your SPN fanfic.

Rules:

Send your quote request as an ASK ONLY please so that I can keep track.

You can write for any SPN character, my preference is Sam and Dean, but you do what feels right.

Any genre/pairing/trope is welcome, just make sure you tag it appropriately!

One writer per prompt.

Fics will be due by July 1. I’ll post the masterlist just before I go to ChiCon.

Use the tag Tiff’s WTF Challenge to help me track your fic

Yes, you can combine it with another challenge, yes, you can have an extension if you ask for one, yes, it can be part of a series.

No, there is no word limit or max. However, you must use the “read more” feature if longer than 500 words.

Ready? Okay. 

“This is my story. It starts with me. And it ends with me. And everything in the middle is about me. Greatest fucking story ever written.” @acreativelydifferentlove

“You really are life’s wet patch. An embarrassing little stain that no one wants to admit to...or sleep on.”

“I shit gold, piss silver, and puke bronze. I don’t need a medal to tell me how fucking awesome I am. Got that, bitches?” @ellawinchester1993

“I’d rather peel off my skin and bathe my weeping raw flesh in a bath of vinegar than spend any time with you. But that’s just my opinion. Don’t take it personally.” @torn-and-frayed

“You’re gonna have to shave your pubes. It’s like fighting an army of permed spider legs down there, and I’m gonna lose. I’m gonna lose.” @deansbabygirl01

“Fuck! If I don’t get to the motherfucking flower show, I’m gonna fucking kill someone!” @frejahertziswritingthistime

“Why don’t you call back later, and we’ll see whether we can get the world to revolve around you.” @whispersandwhiskerburn

“I’m gonna have a great day...Don’t you fuck it up.” @roxy-davenport

“This little tampon went out, this little tampon stayed home. This little tampon had an applicator, this little tampon had none. This little tampon’s covered in...poop. WRONG HOLE, PEOPLE! Wrong hole.”

“Oh! It’s a poltergoat. A poltergoat! You can’t see em, but you find all your clothes chewed. If you listen carefully, you may hear a ghostly baaaahhhhh. Poltergoat! Baaaahhhhh.”

“Ghosts going bump in the night. Clumsy fuckers.” @quiddy-writes

“I’m like a vulnerable fawn in the woods. One that happens to carry an uzi, ninja throwing stars, and a motherfucking bazooka.” @winchesterprincessbride

“Now I’m going to ask really nicely for you to un-fuck this situation.” @mandilion76

“There was so much blood! Oh, there must have been at least five llamas. Totally unprovoked attack by those puffins. I managed to clip their wings. This is llama turf.”

“Well that’s just great. Peanut butter in my crack. Goddamn it.” @saxxxology 

“I’ve written your epitaph. Yup. I did it early. You wanna read it? ‘Here you are, lying dead. Ha ha ha ha ha.’” @sixtysevenandwhiskey

“It’s growling. Shhh, it’s growling closer...It’s an angry thing, a big angry thing. It likes cabbage, though.” @helloimsensitive

“Hey! You killed my velociraptor, dickhead. That’s so unfair. You do realize how hard it is to find one of those ‘round here, don’t you?”

“Sure you can have my phone number. It’s like having a direct line to God. But better. Because I answer.” @internationalmusicteacher

“How do blind people know they’re done wiping? How?” @mrsbatesmotel53

“I’m sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. But if you’re not my mother, you can leave a message. Beeeep.” *Bonus points for not using Crowley* @soullessdemontrap

“If she sends me one more fucking smiley face emoticon, I’m gonna shove that keyboard so far up her ass, she’s gonna have to tweak her nipples to force quit.” @kayteonline

“I need someone else to help me catch ghosts. Cause we’re going out to kick seven shades of spiritual shit. Yeaaaah. Ghose kickers! Free floating vapor? Free floating fucker, more like. Come on, let’s get em!” @ravengirl94

“I wanted a shark with laser beams, and I got a manatee with a Maglite. For fuck’s sake, get back in your hole and get it right.”

“If honesty’s the best policy, and the truth hurts, then you’d better call an ambulance, cause you’re not gonna like the stuff I’m gonna fucking say.” @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

“Goddammit! Where’s my bazooka? I put it on the ground, expecting it to be there when I come back. Have you been tidying up again, cause I really would like my bazooka back. I don’t know where you put things. Jesus! Cannot just leave anything alone, can you?” @atc74

“It’s Captain Fluffer! Hero to teenage boys.”

“You’re right, elephants in thongs are not something you see every day. Enjoy it.”

“Back off Robin. Batman is my bitch now. You’re just a bitch’s bitch, bitch.” @seenashwrite

“OK, so that’s your weekend homework. Go home and slap grandma.”

“Your singing can wake the dead. So shut the fuck up. I don’t want any zombies dropping their jazz hands all over the fucking place. Alright? Just shut it.” @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

“Just put the fucking cow’s head on the pavement and walk away. Leave it alone, stop playing with it. It’s just a head. Ooooh, it’s got it’s eyeballs in still.”

“Happy Birthday! It’s a dead puppy!...Now listen, you: You didn’t specify a live puppy, you just said you wanted a fucking puppy! Jesus you’re spoiled. Now go take it for a drag.”

“I’m losing faith in humanity, one faked orgasm at a time.” @lipstickandwhiskey

“I’m sorry, but not knowing what a horcrux is is a deal-breaker to me. Deal with it, muggle-fucker.” *Bonus points for not using Charlie* @notnaturalanahi

“Vampire penguins? Zombie guinea pigs? We’re done for...done for.”

“It’s amazing how you can smell so bad, but still be alive.”

“Harder is NOT a good safe word.” @lifelovelaughangell123

“Buffalo wings? Are you insane? Those cows can’t fly. It’s a lie, I tell you. A fucking lie.”

“Scales. Must have scales. And razor claws. I want some feathers. And a goggly thing on its head. Yeahhh. Dinochicken. Awesome! I feel like a god. All right, what’s next? Guineapigasaurus. Bring it on!”

“Garlic cheese! Double death to you, you lactose intolerant vamp man!”

“God, you whine like whale song. But a lot less eerie and beautiful and more, well, fucking annoying.” @silencethroughwords

“Dance for me, go on. Oh, you were! I thought you were having a spaz attack...Doofus.”

“Leave my gnomes alone. They’re MY gnomes, living in MY house, doing MY gardening, and they’re happy. Look at their fucking smiley faces. Can’t you see how frickin’ happy they are? Who are you to judge me?! Go on, gnome, cut the grass. Good gnome. Good gnome.” @the-winchester-gospels-and-cas

“You can’t drop them. You can’t set them on fire. You can’t feed them to crocodiles. You can’t let them play with fireworks. I mean...kids: what the fuck?!” @ellen-reincarnated1967

“You know, with you you you, it’s all me me me. Well fuck fuck fuck fuck you you you.” @rizlow1

TAGS: For participation and signal boostage!

@mogaruke @feelmyroarrrr @kayteonline @seenashwrite @notnaturalanahi  @mrswhozeewhatsis @deathtonormalcy56 @kittenofdoomage @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @luci-in-leather @babypieandwhiskey @idreamofhazel @impala-dreamer @sis-tafics @littlegreenplasticsoldier @ultimatecin73 @mrsjohnsmith @mandilion76 @boxywrites @sherrybaby14 @sylverminx @there-must-be-a-lock @deandoesthingstome @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @ceeceewinchester @kathaswings @dr-dean @roxy-davenport @avasmommy224 @moonlitskinwalker @docharleythegeekqueen @is-this-you-manning-up-sammy @quick-act-supernatural @frick-you-im-a-princes @charliebradbury1104  @blacktithe7updates @klaineaholic  @ilsawasanacrobat  @ayeeitsemry @hexparker @quiddy-writes @ravengirl94 @donnaintx @rubynationwins @someday-once @winchesterprincessbride @manawhaat @anotherwinchesterfangirl @acreativelydifferentlove @luci-in-trenchcoats @whispersandwhiskerburn @lipstickandwhiskey