#martiansourcream

[ineffablegame]

28 or 15 for ineffable husbands? Please?

28: One teaching the other something new.

Also published on my Ao3.

Standing outside a mudbrick house in the Sumerian city of Ur, Crawly considers the object in his hands.  A large, flat oblong, it might be considered heavy by human standards.  It would certainly be a trial for a human to pilfer it still hot from the kiln like a child stealing bread from the oven.  But trials for humans are mere parlor tricks for demons.  

Crawly turns the tablet over, brow furrowed as he examines the markings etched into the clay from a new angle.  A startled smile breaks across his features.  Aha.

“Crawly?”

Crawly’s fingers tighten around the tablet, but otherwise, he gives no outward sign of surprise.  He raises his head to regard the angel with a cool stare.  “Aziraphale.  Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Aziraphale cocks his head.  “Oh, I suppose it’s been… well, goodness, at least one-hundred years.”  Crawly watches the angel closely as he talks.  His hands are constantly in motion, fingers knitting and unknitting before him.  Are all angels so fidgety?  “The time does pass so quickly among humans.”

“It does at that,” Crawly says, flicking his eyes back to the tablet.  “Diverting creatures.”

Aziraphale shifts fractionally closer, instantly putting Crawly on his guard.  But the angel stays a safe few paces away, neck craned to better inspect the tablet.  “What is that?”

“A story, I think,” says Crawly.  He’d seen the head priestess making her etchings the other day, so mired in concentration she had seemed lost to the world.  Something about that intense focus had reminded Crawly of the prophets of old, of Moses and Elijah sunk deep in communion with Her.  The sight had unsettled Crawly as much as it entranced him, and it was with equal parts reluctance and curiosity that he returned to steal the tablet from the kiln.  

Lost in thought, Crawly is slow to notice the angel’s silence.  When he looks up, Aziraphale is regarding him with a puzzled expression.  “What is a ‘story?’”

Crawly blinks, momentarily thrown.  “A… well, it’s a story.  A tale.”

A frown darkens Aziraphale’s face.  “That means nothing to me.”

“A story.”  Crawly casts about for a simpler explanation, but it is as if he is trying to reduce building blocks to building blocks.  Stories are fundamental structures, bases upon which the imagination builds.  

That’s why, he realizes.  Heaven has no imagination.

He changes tack.  “You know writing, yes?”

“I’m an angel,” Aziraphale says, testily.  “Of course I know what writing is.  The Almighty has given me the knowledge to read every written language the humans invent.”

“Well,” Crawly soldiers on, “this is writing of things that didn’t happen.”

Aziraphale’s frown deepens into suspicion.  “Deceit, you mean.”

“No,” Crawly says, aggrieved.  “It’s… it’s more like… games.  You’ve seen human children playing, yes?”  Seeing the gathering thunderclouds of indignation, he hastily adds, “Stories are like writing and play.  The humans know they aren’t necessarily true, but they enjoy them anyway.”

“Why would they enjoy reading things have haven’t happened?  There’s no point to it.”

Crawly shrugs.  He is beginning to feel as if he’s been instructed to fill an endless void with the basest knowledge, to cobble together a universe from spare parts.  “They… they just do.  They enjoy using their imaginations.”

“Well.  That explains it.  Angels don’t need imagination.”  Aziraphale shrugs, but his offhand tone is belied by the curious gleam in his eyes as they track over the tablet.  Crawly waits a beat, suspended by a sensation like weightlessness, and at last the angel says, “What is it about, then?  This story.”

“A god yelling at a mountain,” Crawly answers.  

Aziraphale scoffs and crosses his arms.  “That sounds utterly ridiculous.”

Crawly studies the angel.  For all his hauteur, his curiosity is piqued.  Crawly has been plying his wiles for a thousand years, now – he knows temptation when he sees it, and if reading stories was a sin, he suspects he would have the makings of a Fallen angel on his hands.  A prickle of remorse creeps across his flesh at the thought, as unpleasant as a chill breeze.  He shrugs it off.  More’s the pity.  Reading stories isn’t a sin.  She probably just prefers Her lackeys dumb and obedient.

Inspiration strikes.  “Why are you here, angel?  Come to thwart my wicked deeds?”

Aziraphale tears his gaze away from the tablet with a visible struggle.  His fingers are moving again, steepling and netting back and forth.  “A-ah, yes, in fact, I have.  I was just passing through when I noticed a distinct whiff of evil, and indeed, here you are.  Stealing and promoting…”  His gaze flits to the tablet and away, so swift Crawly might not have noticed.  But oh, he notices.  Aziraphale coughs delicately.  “…Promoting blasphemous deceit, apparently.”

“Oh, no,” says Crawly.  “You caught me!  Drat, I’ve been thwarted yet again.”

Aziraphale narrows his eyes.  “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not.  I’ve been bested by my hated Adversary and I’m absolutely gutted about it.”

“Now I know you’re up to no good,” Aziraphale snaps, waspish, and lays his hands on the tablet.  Crawly puts up a token struggle before releasing the stolen treasure.  Checking an impulse to shake his fist, he settles for a muttered oath and retreats a few paces.  Aziraphale beams, triumphant.  “Begone, fiend, and trouble these good people no longer.”

“Curses,” Crawly says dryly.  Aziraphale frowns and, realizing his misstep, the demon puts his back into it.  “I’ll win over Ssssumer in the end, angel!  Jusssst you wait and ssssee!  Ssssooner or later, they will all belong to my massster!”

Crawly flees after that, mostly because he fears he’s gone overboard and ruined the ploy.  He needn’t worry.  If he had stayed a moment longer, stolen a covert look, he would have seen the reverence with which the angel Aziraphale passes his fingers over the etched characters.  

Five-thousand years later, Crowley impulsively seeks out the tablet.  He doesn’t expect to find it, doesn’t dare hope it has survived the ravages of history.  When he does, it seems both a marvel and a sign.  

“Really, my dear,” Aziraphale says as Crowley leads him through the museum, “this is all very intriguing, but to bring us to America of all places…”

“Don’t pout,” Crowley says, tugging on Aziraphale's arm.  After they’ve finally sorted out their feelings for each other, he can’t help but touch the angel at every opportunity.  He never wants to stop.  “Look, after this, we’ll get you some of that famous Chicago deep-dish pizza.  How does that sound?”

Aziraphale tsks.  “Cheek.”  But his mutterings fall silent as they reach the display case.  His breath catches.  “Oh, Crowley.  Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmurs, wonderingly.  His gaze is fixed on the clay tablet – battered and worn after thousands of years, many of the characters rubbed away – but his hand is firm as he braids their fingers together.  “You old serpent.  I knew you were a romantic at heart.”

[sad-space-monkey-boi]

In my body I'm a disaster

Tw for self harm/attempted suicide and briefly mentioned noncon

Title from Body by SYML

Gonna tag some Luther-positive blogs: @lonelyboy-in-space @umbrellawhumpslut @queerhargreeves @umbrella-babies @protect-luther-hargreeves @001-spaceboy @justletmeremember @martiansourcream

Luther knew that he was his sibling's least favorite. It was common knowledge. Diego was the rebel, Allison was the the pretty one, Klaus was the jokester, Luther was the Annoying one. Annoying, overbearing, selfish, rude, and mean. That's what his siblings thought of him.

He sat in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the broken mirror. A monster. That's what Diego had called him. He was right, of course. Daddy's perfect little soldier never questioned him and that's how he became a monster. An ugly, hairy, horrible monster.

Shards of glass lay on the counter and floor, long since broken by his fist. He thought of the moon, about how lonely and yet beautiful it was. He may have been lonely, but his family didn't have to deal with him. He had hurt everyone. Ben died in his arms, Five vanished. He had hurt Vanya.

He picked up a glass shard and pressed it to his skin. They would be better off without him anyways, right? ------------------------------

"LUTHER! MOM WANTS YOU DOWNSTAIRS!" Diego yelled up the stairs. After getting no answer, he ran up and walked to his door. "LUTHER!"

He turned the door handle, entering his brother's room. He saw glass and model rockets covering the floor. "Luther?"

Diego picked one of the model rockets up off the floor, then noticed the bathroom door ajar down the hall. He stood up slowly and crept towards the bathroom. He came face to face with a scene out of a horror movie. The sound of shattering wood filled the air as the model rocket fell out of his hand.

"Oh my Gd." ----------------------

When Diego had called for their help, the other five didn't expect to find their "eldest" brother lying in a pool of his own blood. Now, Grace was patching up Luther's self-inflicted wounds, and the other six were sitting, trying their individual bests not to cry.

Vanya leaned on Ben's shoulder, silent sobs racking her shoulders. Klaus had his face buried in his hands, smudging his eyeliner, and Five was lying on Allison's lap, eyes tightly shut. Diego sat by himself, staring blankly at his blood-covered hands.

Luther layed on the cot, looking strangely at peace, considering the events taking place. He was breathing softly, mouth ajar, and his siblings took comfort in the rise and fall of his chest. Grace finished wrapping up the last wound, laying a gentle hand on his brow, and let artificial tears slip down her cheeks. What was that saying again? No mother should outlive their child? Grace had lived that before with Ben's death, and came close with Five. Now she had just narrowly dodged losing another.

By the time Luther's eyes fluttered open, Five, Vanya, Ben, and Klaus were asleep, leaving Allison and Diego watching over their siblings. His first reaction was panick. 'Can't I do anything right?' He thought bitterly as He tried ripping the IV out of his arm. Diego's head snapped up and he rushed to his brother's aid. "No, no don't do that! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

'Thats kind of the point, Diego.' Luther mused, glaring darkly at him. Allison quickly roused the others, who quickly ran to his side. They all sat in a quiet relief, thanking powers that they didn't believe in for their brother's quick recovery.

No-one really knew what to say, so they didn't say anything for a while. Vanya, unable to stand the uncomfortable silence anymore, said softly, "Lu, can I ask you why?"

Luther looked at her, eyes filled with anxiety and dejection. He ran his hand over his face, and sighed deeply. "I- I just...." His eyes filled with tears, and Ben grabbed his hand and held it with a firm, yet ghostlike grip. "You know you can tell us anything, we just wanna help you."

After a moment, Luther finally spoke up again. "I just, can't anymore. I've done nothing but hurt you, all of you! I hurt Vanya, I locked her up, she needed my help, and I- I wasn't watching Klaus at that party, and he DIED! Ben died, on my watch! I did so much, and then there was that thing with that woman, and with Dad, I just......" at this point his quiet tears had turned into loud weeping."Diego was right, I am a monster." He mumbled through his tears.

"Luther, I was wrong. I was lashing out an-and angry, I'm s-sorry. You're not a monster! You're the best brother we could ask for, and we l-love you!"

Allison nodded in agreement. "Before the divorce, all that Claire would talk about is how cool her Uncle Luther was. She would brag to all the kids at her Pre-School that her uncle was a superhero who lived in space. She's always wante to meet you,"

His family's statements seemed to make his crying worse. Ben tightened his grip on his hand and said, "Luther, me dying? That wasn't your fault. It was on me, and I can never thank you enough for being there for me when I died. We all know you love us, and we love you. Never doubt that again."

Vanya sat on the cot and buried her head into her sobbing brother's shoulder. One by one, the others joined her. "It's okay to cry, we're here for you. We always will be."

Grace walked in the door, having made hot cocoa for all of her children. She put the tray on the counter and sat beside them. Luther looked at her, tears subsiding, and smiled softly. She returned the smile and kissed his forehead. She roused her children from their group-hug and handed out the cocoa. They all sat in a comfortable silence, still leaning on their brother. They may not be okay now, but they would get there, helping each other through it all.

[archivegellohoodbye]

Hey, that's my boyfriend's drawings!

He is really being sad because no one like his arts..

He draws this with his mouse, not graphic tablet

My boyfriend has depression for about 3 weeks.. He doesn't have a motivation to draw

So.. Check out his arts it would be nice for him, for me

Thank you for attention

@martiansourcream

[ao3feed-goodomens]

Hay Fever

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HWXxTS

by martiansourcream

"Do you remember that time when humans used to sleep on straw mattresses? Not so comfortable, I must admit, but it does make me feel a little nostalgic." Aziraphale stopped by one of the hay stacks as they passed it, stroking it briefly and burying his fingers into the slightly prickly stalks. "Do you want to sleep on one of these tonight?" Crowley asked.

One cool September night, an angel and a demon decided to have some fun at the hay barn.

Words: , Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Gentle Sex, hay, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Established Relationship, there is no actual hay fever it's just a pun, coz u know, hot stuff in the hay, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HWXxTS

[b-rainlet]

@martiansourcream really out there, existing, making me soft for Five/Luther

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Fingers

by martiansourcream

In 6000 years they've known each other, Aziraphale never really paid that much attention to Crowley's hands. Until that one time they went to a small cafe.

Words: 580, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

source http://archiveofourown.org/works/20316667

[ao3feed-crowley]

Fingers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Zatgql

by martiansourcream

In 6000 years they've known each other, Aziraphale never really paid that much attention to Crowley's hands. Until that one time they went to a small cafe.

Words: 580, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Zatgql

[lonelyboy-in-space]

@martiansourcream: You know... I feel like it's something Luther needs to see

it’s difficult to believe sometimes but:

- your trauma isn’t “not bad enough”

- you aren’t “faking it”

- you deserve to recover

[martianapplecrumble]

Check out my new Good Omens fanfiction!

"Of course Crowley knew that shooting stars weren't actually stars. They were just space rocks, going on a very high speed - meteors. But when he let himself get more poetic, he compared shooting stars to falling angels, going down and down while their wings burned.

The first meteor shot down, and Crowley felt a familiar burn in his upper back and all over his face. Not a real one, though. Just a memory."

[ao3feed-goodomens]

Fingers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Zatgql

by martiansourcream

In 6000 years they've known each other, Aziraphale never really paid that much attention to Crowley's hands. Until that one time they went to a small cafe.

Words: 580, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Zatgql

[archivegellohoodbye]

@martiansourcream PLEASE DON'T WATC THIS IT'S SPOILER!!!

𝙊𝙝, 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠.

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Hay Fever

by martiansourcream

"Do you remember that time when humans used to sleep on straw mattresses? Not so comfortable, I must admit, but it does make me feel a little nostalgic." Aziraphale stopped by one of the hay stacks as they passed it, stroking it briefly and burying his fingers into the slightly prickly stalks. "Do you want to sleep on one of these tonight?" Crowley asked.

One cool September night, an angel and a demon decided to have some fun at the hay barn.

Words: 2015, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Gentle Sex, hay, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Established Relationship, there is no actual hay fever it's just a pun, coz u know, hot stuff in the hay, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)

source http://archiveofourown.org/works/20582726

[ao3feed-crowley]

Hay Fever

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HWXxTS

by martiansourcream

"Do you remember that time when humans used to sleep on straw mattresses? Not so comfortable, I must admit, but it does make me feel a little nostalgic." Aziraphale stopped by one of the hay stacks as they passed it, stroking it briefly and burying his fingers into the slightly prickly stalks. "Do you want to sleep on one of these tonight?" Crowley asked.

One cool September night, an angel and a demon decided to have some fun at the hay barn.

Words: 2015, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Gentle Sex, hay, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Established Relationship, there is no actual hay fever it's just a pun, coz u know, hot stuff in the hay, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2HWXxTS