#ineffable husbands fic rec

[qe-podfic]

Calling Good Omens Fan Artists!

Our podfic needs YOU. We would like art to go in the background/thumbnails of the Quantum Entangled podfic reading.

(on YT and in the AO3 post)

Your reblogs help make the QE podific a reality! Even if you're not an artist, engaging with this post can help push it towards the artists on your dash. What have we got so far? Chapter 1:

Art by: @lexarturo

Chapter 2:

Art by: @commentdismal

Chapter 3:

Art by: @yetrop

Chapter 4:

No Art Yet. (This spot could be YOURS!)

Chapter 5:

No Art Yet. (This spot could be YOURS!)

Chapter 6:

No Art Yet. (Spot taken by @lvndrlondonfog)

Chapter 7:

Art by @pb-and-jammothy

Chapter 8:

No Art Yet. (This spot could be YOURS!)

Chapter 9:

No Art Yet. (This spot could be YOURS!)

Ideally, we'd have one illustration per scene, but one per episode is what we're aiming for (in the interest of realistic expectations). There will be one "main" illustration per chapter. Read through whichever chapter you want to illustrate and pick a scene to draw. We want you to have full artistic control. So long as it's relevant to the fic, go ahead!

Curious? Read the fic here:

Want to help out? The best place to find us is on discord:

[50shadesofoctarine]

Why you should write that AO3 comment:

Hello! I am an AO3 author and professional fandom dipshit. This is an "essay" on why you should leave that comment on the fanfic you just read.

Table of Contents:

"Commenting is too much effort!"

"I don't know what to write!"

Do you want more fanfic?

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

"Commenting is too much effort!"

Yes, writing a comment takes energy. I'm an introvert, I get that. I have two counter arguments to this point.

AO3 comments are not the SAT:

This is a comment from my latest fic, Quantum Entangled.

Three words and a heart. It requires zero consideration, it isn't specific to the fic, it's something you could copy-paste, even. A comment like this is better than nothing. I'll let my reply from AO3 explain why:

"You know what, I appreciate this way more than you'd probably expect. The temptation to lurk is a strong one, both for social anxiety reasons and internet content-consumption culture reasons. But when people lurk, I can't tell that they've enjoyed the story. The more people that lurk instead of interacting, the more I assume that my work wasn't good enough, irrespective of the reader's actual feelings. So this was a very welcome comment to read. Thank you for indicating your enjoyment. I will endeavour to write more stuff for you to lurk on in the future. :)"

A comment like this, one that is as thoughtless and low effort as possible, is still a comment. Something that denotes a reader's interest. Because, and I can't be clear enough about this, I HAVE NO OTHER WAY OF KNOWING THAT YOU LIKED IT. Kudos and comments are my only window into the reader's experience.

Sure, I'd love more detailed and thorough comments on my work, but, if that expectation is the thing that's going to stop you from commenting at all, I'd prefer the bland copy-paste appreciation.

Onto my second argument.

Do you know what also takes effort? WRITING THE DAMN FIC:

You do not get to complain about being forced to type a congratulatory handful of words after reading that 200k slow-burn fantasy au. Do you know how many hours went into that thing? Do you? Because I can guarantee that it was A LOT. All that writers are asking for is a single emoji. A kudos, at the very least. Consider the effort that went into the creation that you've just experienced and give just a thimble full of it back.

Authors lay out a feast for you to devour. They're only requesting a "thank you".

"I don't know what to write!"

Like in the previous example, an AO3 comment can be as simple as three words saying that you appreciated it. Just an acknowledgement that you were there. It doesn't have to be fancy.

But if you want fancy...?

Here's one of my comments, from Tishae's Better Together.

Let me break it down for you.

"Stunning. This au is so well developed. I love how you managed to maintain tension after the point that they discover that their feelings are requited. This was brilliantly paced, and the action (esp the ending) was so engaging."

The comment opens with appreciation. (Think of it as a sandwich with love as the bread. It starts and ends with my enjoyment.)

There are specific details about what I liked.

"If I may ask, what was the crime that the Metatron committed? Maybe I'm bad at reading between the lines or maybe I missed something, but I'm really curious as to what dirt they have on him. Victimless? Bad enough for imprisonment, but not so morally reprehensible as to make Anathema reveal it? Did he embezzle? That's all I can really think of."

Continues with a specific question about the story and plot.

Shows that I was critically engaged and actively considering the story.

You don't have to have questions about every fic that you read, but don't be afraid to ask them if you do. I love it when people ask me about my work.

"Thank you for the delicious food. I honestly thought that you were going to have Crowley's final look be something in grey (black and white being the theme of the show, metaphorically representing separation/binary, so Aziraphale was uncomfortable with it due to the implications. Grey, symbolising unity/shades of grey as an idiom, would then be the biggest middle finger to the Metatron) but I do really like what you came up with."

Gratitude.

Thoughts about how I read the plot. (This is something I particularly love to read as an author. Please tell me what's going on in that funky lil' brain of yours!!)

"I'm hoping this comment provides plenty of dopamine. If the task activation and instant gratification parts of your brain light up, you might be more likely to write GO content again. Love your work, thanks for sharing it. I hope you gain 3 inches of metaphorical dick length. Please keep writing."

Encouragement to keep writing. (This is the best way to ensure that creators remain in the fandom)

A funny comment to sign off.

Now that you know what to comment, let's start on the real reasons why you should.

Do you want more fanfic?

Fun fact! Fanfictious Authoria are a species that sustain themselves entirely on a diet of brain worms, unfinished WIPs, and kudos. As one of the three fundamental food groups, removing kudos from the fandom ecosystem causes a complete collapse of the natural order. In times of unprecedented scarcity, entire populations of Fanfictious Authoria can die out completely. This means that the production of fanfiction, in that particular region of fandom, stops entirely, often causing major ecological damage, and the subsequent deaths of fan species in the same genus. (Like the Fanfictious Artia, or the Fanfictious Editour, both of which subsist on fanfiction based diets to survive.)

In conservation efforts, experts are imploring readers to donate kudos and comments toward any fandom region that they want to stay alive.

But I digress.

When I want more content, I tell the author. Ask and you shall receive; it's the best way to convince an author/artist to make more.

My comment on @mrghostrat's And They Were Streamers

You liked it? Then COMMENT! Not for the author's sake, but for your own. You want to see the ending of a WIP? Well, it'd be a terrible shame if the author gave up on it because they thought no one was reading... They don't know that you enjoy their work until you TELL THEM. They're not psychic, you have to help them hear you. Commenting on the things you like influences the creators of said things to attribute the act of making content (and, notably, making the type of content that specifically appeals to you) with the dopamine hit of reading your reaction. Treat them like Pavlov's dogs. Ring the kudos-bell.

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

They have real human feelings and real human egos. The contemporary attitude towards media engagement is skewed towards algorithmic, instant, and uncritical consumption. This is pumping straight gasoline into the beautiful lakes of our fandom ecosystem. Fandom cannot afford to treat its creators like mechanical text generators. We are not an unfeeling assembly line, only there to produce content. We are enthusiasts, engaging in our hobby. No fan creator has to show you anything. They are fully within their rights to keep their works hidden in their computer files, never to see the light of day. Every fanfic on AO3 is only there because someone had the grace to share it with you. You are not entitled to an author's work, just as they are not entitled to your kudos. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Do not forget your part in this symbiosis.

It's a problem that extends beyond AO3. Tumblr is a less enthusiastic place than it used to be. Fandom as a whole is drifting towards a consumption mindset. I, for one, am sick of it. Reblog things, like them, share them. Make fanart of fanart. Who gives a shit? Do the cringy thing. You don't have to cultivate your blog aesthetic. Be who you are, like what you like, and have enthusiasm about all of it. Fandom should be an expression of radical self acceptance. Embrace it. Leave essays about fics that you liked. Reblog the essays of other's when you see them. Exist in the mutual joy of seeing and being seen. You are not just an external observer, absorbing content from a distance. You are here too. Wave back at us. Say 'hi.'

You can count it as charity work on your metaphysical taxes.

My final appeal is a moral one.

Commenting on AO3 is just a kind thing to do.

You are your actions. Are you the kind of person who does the kind thing when no one is watching? When no one will care?

Fanfiction is a hobby, and I'm not here to guilt you about how you spend your leisure time. I'm only here to say that there is a kindness you could be giving the world.

If you are one of the people that performs this kindness, I thank you.

[somegoodomens]

Please (feral) share with me Good Omens fics (preferably post S2) that, in your opinion, do an amazing job with Crowley’s and Aziraphale’s characterization.

[jilliancares]

symptoms of demonpox (otherwise known as heartbreak)

Summary:

Maybe that was Aziraphale’s first action as the new archangel in charge: I hereby declare that demons can now contract demonpox. Symptoms include wet and burning eyes, shortness of breath, an uncomfortable tightness in the chest, and an all-encompassing sense of impending doom.

That would certainly explain it.

Or: Crowley wonders if he'll ever be happy again. (He will.) (They're both idiots.)

Immediately following the events of Season 2, Episode 6.

Word count: 4.1k

Here’s a link!

i haven’t promoted a fic on tumblr in ages, but i binged the second season of good omens and couldn’t get it out of my head (even after reading the book, convincing my sister to watch it, and begging all my friends to watch it). enjoy!

[justtellher]

give me peace (in a lifetime of war) 5/15

Chapter 5: there's something lonesome about you (I slithered here from Eden)

“Start with one thing and go from there.” she suggests gently, hands outstretched as she comes to stand next to him. “What's one thing you want?” Want. Someone, what doesn’t he want? Sometimes at his core Crowley believes he’s nothing more than a mess of wanting, from the easy to demonically justify–fast cars, wine, a bit of mischief–to the much more nebulous and unlikely. What does he want? He wants answers to his questions. He wants Aziraphale to be safe and happy and free. He wants to wake up in the morning and feel at ease again, a feeling he hasn’t felt in so long he’s not sure he’s ever known it. It’s the type of feeling that allows you to breathe deeply, that settles in your soul and lets you know that no matter what you belong, that you have a… “A home.” The words bubble softly over from the spiral of his thoughts and slip past his lips before he can stop them.

read on ao3 | ff.net

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

[ineffablehusbandos]

Ineffable Husbands Fic Rec #11

alpha centauri

Summary: “There isn’t time, angel!” Crowley snaps. “Will you come with me? Yes or no?”

Aziraphale clenches his jaw, and Crowley is sure he’s lost him. But unexpectedly, his expression hardens. He looks determined when he focuses back on Crowley.

“Yes.”

Drinking Buddies and Diaries

Summary: “I read the books about you,” Muriel said matter-of-factly.

Crowley wasn’t following. “The books about me?”

“The letter books to Aziraphale’s friend Diary? You must know them. They must be an angel, but I don’t think I’ve ever met them before.”

Crowley coughed heavily. “You’ve read Aziraphale’s diary?”

a place to be

Summary: In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away.

Aziraphale watches him with sad eyes, unflinching and fearless. “Crowley, I think that you’re-”

”What? Wicked? Beastly? Evil?”

“Perfect.”

Crowley stops in his tracks, a wave of strange nausea rolling through him. It isn’t- what gives Aziraphale the right to say things like that? After tossing Crowley to the kerb? “Then why did you leave?” he asks, and it sounds a lot wetter than he had hoped for.

“I wanted to keep you safe,” Aziraphale says desperately.

“We could have kept ourselves safe,” he says, softer now. “Together.”

No Nightingales

Summary: It's been a year since Aziraphale left Crowley on Earth and neither of them are faring very well. A moment of crisis brings them together again, and this time it's up to Aziraphale to save Crowley.

[decadentdreamerpirate]

I'm looking for ineffable husbands parenting fic recs. I have of course already read blackeyedblonde's amazing work on ao3 (@definitionsfading )and im looking for things of that nature (if you havent read their fics go now !!!) anybody help me ?

[impatient14]

The thing is, Crowley didn’t know.

Not entirely, at least. Not in the same way he knew the measure of every nebula, the heartbeat of every star. He wasn’t given the tools–wasn’t afforded the right–to know.

He’d thought around it, of course. He’d spent many a moment (or century) daydreaming impossible things. He’d even written a little scene or two himself–carefully vague, of course, and never to the extent of his mind’s vivid imagination. He’d read enough books and seen enough movies to feel pretty confident about the mechanics, at least. Given an Effort, his body responded the same way theirs do; it was all pleasant ache, shivering heat, and dazzling hope.

And yet.

When the moment came, it wasn’t what he was promised.

***

Or, three kisses between an angel and a demon.

[chuuyagum]

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Moving In Together, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Between Seasons/Series, Roommates, Falling In Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst Summary:

It's just a book to him, but to Aziraphale it may as well be a living thing.

 Gingerly, he swoops down to pick up the book, an unassuming thing that must've fallen off a stack when Crowley came in through the front door bearing one of those lattes Aziraphale liked and some pastries as a peace offering of sorts for the angel. Not that he had any particular reason to apologize for anything, but it tended to pay off being preemptive.

[infinitevariety]

“So, to be clear, you have no idea who I am,” the demon says.

“I—no.”

“And I have no idea who you are.”

“You don’t?” Aziraphale is mildly surprised when his heart plummets. How very odd.

“Not a clue,” says the demon, pushing himself to his feet again. He’s all barely contained energy, large fluctuations of his entire body to illustrate his thoughts. He’s—

(beautiful)

forgotten (but not gone) by @writeonclara

[vavoom-sorted-art]

puttin' on the ritz III

The third installment of J.C. Leyendecker inspired art for @moonyinpisces' amazing 1920's fic puttin' on the ritz.

I hope you guys enjoyed my delve into the Roarin' 20's as much as I did!

Here's links to the other two:

Outfit Designs | Opulent Pillar

[qe-podfic]

Want To Voice Act In A Massive Multivoice Podfic?

Characters That Still Need To Be Voiced:

AZIRAPHALE

CROWLEY

ANATHEMA

NEWTON

BEELZEBUB

GABRIEL

MURIEL

SANDALPHON

WARLOCK

Quantum Entangled

Fic Summary:

They fit together like the answer to a question they didn’t know they were asking. Two jigsaw puzzles made by the same cosmic company. Each, a distinct picture on its own, but cut from the same lithographic template so that the pieces could be intermingled into amalgam artworks. Monochrome individually, but a beautifully stark contrast together. Contradictive in their antithetical sameness. Crowley was fucked. Oh, he was so utterly fucked. --- AKA the inherent homoeroticism of co-authoring a paper.

Rating: Mature

Words: 51,266

Relationships:

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Crowley & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens)

Characters:

Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer, Beelzebub (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Shax (Good Omens), Sandalphon (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling

Additional Tags:

Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Human, Pining, Mutual Pining, academic!au, sloooooooow buuuuurn, the inherent homoeroticism of co-authoring a paper, Schrodinger - Freeform, Quantum Mechanics, Matchmaking, matchmaking the matchmakers, most of the characters are from GO, but there is one friendly Ukrainian grandma OC, Fluff, Miscommunication, Light Angst, Banter, Humor, Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Aziraphale is somehow Worse at Feelings (Good Omens), Requited Unrequited Love, they're so stupid, They're literally scientists but they're so STUPID, The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), There Was Only One Bed

Language: English

[50shadesofoctarine]

Fun Fact!

Fanfictious Authoria are a species that sustain themselves entirely on a diet of brain worms, unfinished WIPs, and kudos. As one of the three fundamental food groups, removing kudos from the fandom ecosystem causes a complete collapse of the natural order. In times of unprecedented scarcity, entire populations of Fanfictious Authoria can die out completely. This means that the production of fanfiction, in that particular region of fandom, stops entirely, often causing major ecological damage, and the subsequent deaths of fan species in the same genus. (Like the Fanfictious Artia, or the Fanfictious Editour, both of which subsist on fanfiction based diets to survive.)

In conservation efforts, experts are imploring readers to donate kudos and comments toward any fandom region that they want to stay alive.

[...]

Fan creators are human beings, not AI content generators.

They have real human feelings and real human egos. The contemporary attitude towards media engagement is skewed towards algorithmic, instant, and uncritical consumption. This is pumping straight gasoline into the beautiful lakes of our fandom ecosystem. Fandom cannot afford to treat its creators like mechanical text generators. We are not an unfeeling assembly line, only there to produce content. We are enthusiasts, engaging in our hobby. No fan creator has to show you anything. They are fully within their rights to keep their works hidden in their computer files, never to see the light of day. Every fanfic on AO3 is only there because someone had the grace to share it with you. You are not entitled to an author's work, just as they are not entitled to your kudos. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Do not forget your part in this symbiosis.

It's a problem that extends beyond AO3. Tumblr is a less enthusiastic place than it used to be. Fandom as a whole is drifting towards a consumption mindset. I, for one, am sick of it. Reblog things, like them, share them. Make fanart of fanart. Who gives a shit? Do the cringy thing. You don't have to cultivate your blog aesthetic. Be who you are, like what you like, and have enthusiasm about all of it. Fandom should be an expression of radical self acceptance. Embrace it. Leave essays about fics that you liked. Reblog the essays of other's when you see them. Exist in the mutual joy of seeing and being seen. You are not just an external observer, absorbing content from a distance. You are here too. Wave back at us. Say 'hi.'

An excerpt from this post about why you should comment on AO3

[metalmiez]

My dear friend @hopelesslysleepy wrote a stinkin‘ cute one shot for Halloween, and of course I couldn’t resist drawing a little illustration for it ❤️

Go and read Paws and Portents and leave her some love ❤️

[qe-podfic]

The excerpt from Quantum Entangled: WARNING: MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER CUT

The Fates didn’t give him a piddling inch of the space he needed, there was no room to process the sour pang of his heart’s beat, not as Crowley entered, STAGE RIGHT. A pounding rhythm of muscle lurched against the darkening bruise where Aziraphale’s hope had been ripped out. There was a hole in the ache-pressed core of him. The edges bore the shape of delusion. They marked him as bereft of his precious self-deceptions. It was a cruel narrative exploit—the Fates a hack writer—to include Crowley in this scene. CENTRE RIGHT, Aziraphale clutched his breast, fingers kneading into the pain he held there.

“Zzzziraphale!” Crowley grinned, a dopey fog obscuring the acuity of his gaze. Typically, a sharp thing, his expression had been dulled and blunted into fuzzy inanity. Slow to action, his focus drifted from Aziraphale to the person at his side.

“Beezz, whatcha… Whatcha natterin’ about?” The double ‘t’ was silenced by a glottal stop, as Crowley’s light cockney accent bled into darker shades of opacity. He stared, gormless, into the middle distance, then seemed to catch a fleeting thought between his ears, if only for a brief moment.

“Don’ lisssten to ‘em, Angel,” he urged, solemn with grave importance, “Liesss, all-a it! Ssslander, it isss,” he stumbled on his feet in a woozy half-waltz, eventually giving up and sliding to sit in between Aziraphale and Beelzebub. Despite his blitzed state, there was an intentionality to the action. He stationed his body as a physical barrier, obscuring them from one another. Aziraphale gave him a once over, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Swaying from side to side, a rhythmless disco, Crowley seemed far less sober than Aziraphale had seen him barely an hour ago.

“Are you drunk?!”

“Marry me.”

Was Aziraphale really so terrible a kisser? That Crowley required a liver-killing quantity of liquid courage just to bear the memory? He’d never heard a complaint before. In fact, he was the kind of fellow that often received rave reviews, in that particular category. Maybe it wasn’t the act itself, but what it stood for. He’d confessed his love for all but the word ‘you’, and Crowley was good at extrapolating from incomplete data.

“Marry me.”

Plus, Aziraphale had practically spelled it out afterwards; Y-O-U, three letters, interspersed between a punch and a kiss. Perhaps Crowley had been revolted. In a violent burst, Aziraphale did nothing but take, take, take. Pushed away after the first violation, he had leaned in again. What was Crowley to do? Bombarded by this pathetic thing, pining for contraband scraps. Turns out, it was enough to drive a man to drink.

“Fuck, I don’t have any ringsss on me,” Crowley patted down his dress, desperate, and searching. Pulling a hair tie from his wrist, he tried to get on one knee. When the nature of his skirt made this impossible, not without flashing everyone, or ripping the blasted thing in half, (ergo: flashing everyone) he settled for kneeling on both.

“Aziraphale,” and, devastatingly, he sounded more sober than he had that morning, when not a drop of alcohol had been in his blood. “I don’t have a ssspeech, and—ssshit—you probably dessserve one. But you’re gonna sssay no anyway, ssso I might asss well…” He trailed off, embarrassed but determined to see this through. It was a mockery of a proposal; Crowley on both knees; at eye level with Aziraphale, who was slumped against the kitchen counter. A hair tie presented outwards, Crowley’s head was bowed, as serious as one might’ve been with an actual ring. Dressed as a satanic nun and reeking of booze, it was a juxtaposition of form and function.

“Angel, I,” there were no more words, only three that mattered. Four at a stretch.

“Will you—” And yet… Everything about him screamed, ‘Love me. Please? Love me, please! Love me! Pleeeaaaase?’

“I do,” Aziraphale was answering before he heard the question.

“Bit early for that,” Gabriel teased, grabbing a beer out of the fridge before hastily retreating from the kitchen, disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared. Aziraphale and Crowley both startled, reminded, for the second time that week, that there was a reality outside their odd rituals of affection. Face flushed and heart beating wildly, Aziraphale had no idea what the next step in their dance was. Looking mildly befuddled, Crowley seemed to have the same problem.

“Wait—” he said, brows furrowed over wide eyes, “—you… do?”

Ah. This was one of Crowley’s plans, wasn’t it? A way to break them up like Aziraphale had requested. Like Crowley had wanted. He’d even said it outright, hadn’t he? ‘You’re gonna say no anyway.’ It was a hint. And, despite the initial request being his own, Aziraphale had quite thoroughly put his foot in it. Emotionally, “it” felt about as nice to step in as a glass shard pie.

“Yes, I mean,” he clarified because Aziraphale had less self-preservation than a man putting his willy into a piranha tank full of acid. At least the piranhas would die from the acid burns before they had a chance to do anything. Unfortunately, so would his dick.

“I accept. Your proposal, that is.”

Crowley, astounded that his offer had been welcome, slipped the elastic onto Aziraphale’s wrist. It slid past the swell of his hand, sending nerves alight as it went. Settled at the tender flesh of his wrist, the dark band against his skin felt far more romantic than it was. It pressed against his pulse point, wrapped around the most fragile part of his arm. Aziraphale gasped in a shuddery breath. And Crowley seemed no less affected.

“I’ll get you a ring proper,” he coughed the rasp out of his throat, wincing at how wrecked he sounded, “when we get back to England.”

It was a lie, but a delightful lie. Aziraphale allowed himself a moment to indulge in the fantasy of it, before locking his heart away behind a wet laugh.

“When we get back to England.”

@qe-podfic has me foaming at the mouth send help

(Excuse the shading, my phone camera is awful)

[mielpetite]

Happy Birthday @ashfae !! 🎉🎂🥂

It was Ashfae’s birthday this week and for their birthday i created this illustration as an homage to their wonderful fic Like An Echo Far Away:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52419289

Now, some of you know I don’t get occasion to read a lot of fic because I’m constantly drawing but this one was sized just right and impossibly scorching for a thing that’s less than 3k words so if you haven’t read it, treat yourself. You will not regret it. *fans self*

So, go! Read! And shower Ashfae with birthday week kudos! ❤️