#yeah it is inspired by good omens. what can i say. i live with a brainlinchen.

[eybefioro]

Six weeks

Or sixty decades

Or six thousand years

My feet still leads me

To your church.

I worship:

My chant whispers

Love in your mouth

My tongue licks

A promise of us

Until I smear my longing,

Delirious in your yellow eyes,

And I scream:

Please scape our fall.

Uh what can I say... one horny poem a day keeps your problems *checks notes* at bay? no that doesn't seem right lol

You know what? Now that I'm reading it again, this one feels a lot like Aziraphale’s POV of one of my fics. It's almost like a twin... a companion poem maybe? But my fic is away more... hm... explicit XD but the imagery is similar.

Inspired by @crowleys-bentley-and-plants fridge poems. Beware she's infecting everyone with them, she's the patient zero! (no seriously check out her poems if you haven't yet they're amazing)

Tagging some people that seemed to like my last poem (pls tell me if you don't want to be tagged on my stuff): @fearandhatred @ficreader500 @captainblou @marikacrea @ghostsparrow @ineffable-rohese

[babygorewhore]

Paparazzi

Stalker Eddie part two

Part one

You and Eddie parted ways after the Halloween party due to your commitment issues. But he could never let you go and he’s determined to win you back. Even if that means his obsession only grows.

Hiiiiii so I missed my baby so much and I decided to continue the story in this last part. Thank you so much to @take-everything-you-can for inspiring me. And thank you dolly @xxhellfirebunnyxx for beta reading!!!!!

Warnings! Obsessive behavior! Slightly angst but barely! Fingering! Titty sucking! Unprotected sex! Lots of praise!

Eddie hated himself for letting you go. He really did. After the Halloween party, you told him you couldn’t commit and he didn’t fight for you. Which drove him insane considering how hard he fought for you for weeks. He didn’t blame you for avoiding him since he did in fact stalk you. But you were so perfect that he couldn’t stay away. Which brought him outside your apartment now, where you and your roommate lived. You were going to a valentine’s day party thrown by Steve and he was automatically invited to go. He needed a plan to win you back.

He didn’t mean to show up here but he couldn’t avoid it after he tracked your location. It was bordering on creepy but he was so worried about your safety since you didn’t have your own car yet. He would have given you one of his that he worked on but you would insist on your independence. He didn’t blame you and that was one of the things he liked about you. Your spirit and drive.

He looked at his phone obsessively and waited for any update on your social media or if by a miracle you did text or call. He would always wait for your phone call. The last story you posted was at work with of course a Bad Omens song playing in the background. You were his dream girl. His everything and he refused to let this go on any longer.

Well…that was until he saw a man comment under one of your photos when he got home an hour later. He didn’t recognize the name. His focus is only on the heart eye emoji. Eddie clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would break. You were his girl. He would work however hard he needed to. To win you back. No matter what.

So he commented something else.

“I miss you.” He almost threw his phone when he saw that you only liked it and he settled into bed. Playing the Bad omens playlist in the background. He wanted to touch himself at the memory of your sweet pussy but he wouldn’t. His come belonged to you and only you. His dream girl.

Eddie almost dropped two drinks as he served and managed the inventory at work the next evening because he felt phantom vibrations of his phone but to his dismay it wasn’t you. It was never you anymore. It was Steve or Johnny. He loved them dearly, but you were his priority.

“Hey, man. You good? You seem really nervous..” His coworker Josh asked him and he nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just a little distracted.” He responded tightly. Eddie moved forward with his mixer and handed the margaritas to the two ladies in front of him. They gave him sly smiles but he barely returned them. They weren’t you. So never would he ever pay them attention. Eddie continued being clumsy the whole night until he got into his car well after two in the morning when he saw you had texted him an hour earlier. How could he miss that?

“Hey…are you going to the party on Valentine’s day, Eddie?” You asked and he immediately replied.

“Yes. You’ll be there, right?”

“Yeah, Bunny and I are riding together. She says Steve is still going after her pretty strong.” Your reply came right after and Eddie almost screamed in relief. He thought about not replying for a second to possibly give you the same treatment but he caved in immediately.

He texted you that he was excited to see you but you didn’t answer back and he wanted to have a meltdown but he knew that would be extremely unattractive so he controlled himself. Eddie sat on his couch and scrolled through all your socials like a bedtime story and he felt relaxed the more he looked at your pretty face. He didn’t know what he’d wear to the party as he thought about Halloween. He missed you.

That was the main emotion he felt. Longing.

But he was going to make that damn party the way to win you back.

It was the day of the party and Eddie was dressed in his all black attire as he drove to Steve’s house. He brought a small gift for you in a bag, hoping it would spark a desire to come back to him as he walked inside the familiar house that belonged to Steve. The crowd wasn’t as crazy as Halloween as he saw couples together, including Steve showing off your best friend but Eddie hungrily looked for you, looking for any signs of his dream girl.

“Hey, Eddie.” He stilled when he heard your voice behind him. He swallowed and turned. This was the first time he saw you up close in person since that night.

Your eyes looked at him with an expression he couldn’t place but he was so thankful to see you that he had a smile creep on his face. “Hey, sweets.” That made your own lips curved up. “It’s good to see you,”

“I’m glad you’re here, Eddie. And not outside my house.” His eyes widened as you gave him a knowing smirk.

“I’m-I’m sorry I just had to make sure you were safe. I know you don’t have a car and I would give you one of mine but you’re so independent which I love that about you but I just couldn’t help it-“

“Eddie, slow down.” You chuckled. “It’s okay. I left my location on for a reason.” A flash of guilt crossed your face as he licked his dry lips.

“I bought this for you.” He moved aside for someone to walk by as he gave you the bag.

You removed the item and your eyes softened. It was a ghostface plushie. Fake knife and everything. You brought it to your nose and inhaled. “He smells like you.” You teased and placed him into your purse. Eddie smiled.

“Sprayed it with my cologne, sweetheart. Wanted you to have something that reminded you of me.” Eddie didn’t move as you reached forward and gently touched the end of one of his waves.

“Did you get a haircut?” You asked and he immediately regretted it. Maybe he should have asked if you liked his hair earlier. How could he be so stupid?

“I like it.” You finished and he took a sharp breath. “Do you want to talk in a more private place?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll follow you,” Eddie replied as you both walked upstairs. Eddie watched your perfect legs inside your dark pants and your red shirt that clung to your body. His mouth watered. He wanted to touch you so badly. Spill his cum inside you so far that you leak. But he had to remain strong and hear what you had to say. You both entered an empty bedroom and you sat on the white bed. With your purse gently set on the ground. Your ankles crossed together and he noticed you pressing your thighs together.

“Eddie, I want to explain myself to you. I’m sorry, I avoided you. I have serious commitment issues.” You said bluntly and Eddie felt his chest swell with disappointment. “But I think about you all the time. About everything you’d do for me. About our songs and I miss you. I shouldn’t have walked away and if you’ll have me…” you stood up and pressed your hands on his chest. “I’d love to go out sometime. On an actual date.”

Eddie didn’t even have words as relief, joy and excitement caused him to wrap both arms around your shoulders and pull you into a hug. You laughed at his crushing force. “Sweets, of course I’ll have you.”

“And you can actually step inside my apartment. You don’t have to sit in your car…” You teased and pulled back. “If you had watched more closely, you would have seen my hands down here.” You cupped yourself and Eddie shivered.

He kissed you, so hard you both stumbled and landed on your back. Eddie moaned as you gripped his curls and his cock hardened inside his jeans as you spread your legs and wrapped them around his hips. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this pretty little pussy for so long…I’ve waited for you.” He said against your warm mouth. He sucked your lower lip and shoved his tongue inside your mouth. And you met his force.

Eddie pulled your shirt off and palmed your tits. “Your tits are so perfect, so ready for my mouth, sweetheart.” He groaned and licked around your nipple before pulling it between his lips and sucked softly. Your hands flew to his hair again and he moved his other hand inside your pants and pushed your panties to the side.

His long finger toyed with your clit, circling the center with moderate speed as your wet slick coated his skin as his mouth sucked your nipple. You moaned his name as he plunged two fingers inside you, your own lube spreading you open for him as he pumped them upward. You shuddered and Eddie met your lips again.

“Your body is so fucking perfect. This sweet cunt just for me, baby. Let’s see how you taste…” He removed his fingers and you whined at the loss of contact but he then put them inside his mouth. Eddie’s dick was aching from the sweetness from you and his eyes rolled back.

“Please, fuck me.” You started humping his pelvis like a bitch in heat. “I never should have left.” You whispered as he ripped his jeans and yours off. Then his boxers.

His thick cock twitched with his red tip that he rubbed against your clit, tracing it along your folds as your greedy hole clenched around nothing. “You want it that badly, princess?” He teased you and then he sunk in, bottomed out as his balls slapped against you.

You gasped at the sharp stretch but it was quickly replaced with warm heat as your cunt squeezed him and Eddie grunted loudly at the contact. “You’re such a good pretty girl, sweets. So perfect for me. Don’t stop. Give me all those sounds. Wanna know how good I make you feel.” He said as he thrusted hard and deep.

Your legs lifted higher as he lifted your knees, his cock hitting your spot as he moved aggressively and his skin slapped against yours. “Faster, Eddie.” You stuttered and how could he ever deny his girl?

Eddie dug his hips even deeper, using his strength to pin your body down with his chest against yours as he shakily peppered kisses down your sweaty neck and sucked at your collarbone. “Fuck, don’t ever leave me again. I want my girl. Don’t leave me again.” He begged as he felt his peak approaching.

“Cum in me, Eddie. Want you to mark me.” You breathed between pants and almost immediately he stopped holding back and gripped the sheets beside you and thrusted faster.

Your own cum spilled around his cock, your head lulled back as you cried out his name and pressed your head against his shoulder. Eddie’s cum coated your insides, his seed spilling and making you drip onto the bed as he whimpered. This was better than ever touching himself and he was so grateful he waited all this time. He breathed before capturing your lips into another kiss. This time softer as he savored your lips.

Eddie fell beside you and was shocked when you laid your head on his chest and looked up at him. “I sort of kept track of you too, you know?” You were still trying to catch your breath. “Maybe we’re both stalkers.”

Eddie laughed and kissed your head as his arms wrapped around you. “You’re such a sweet girl, you know that? Almost as sweet as this fucking holiday.”

“Well, it did make you my boyfriend, didn’t it?” Eddie internally cheered as he pinched your ass.

“And you took back this loser metal head willing to follow you home. You still need a car by the way.”

“Not from you, babe.”

“Still denying me, I see.” He turned over and pinned you down by your wrists playfully and you grinned.

“Guess I’ll have to persuade you.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @imyourdaninow @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @redhead1180 @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @reidsbtch @lesservillain @emsgoodthinkin @chrrymunson @elaine-in-the-membrane

I do have a Taglist form linked in my pinned. Please comment again or send me an ask if you’d liked to be tagged for any of my fandom fics or all.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello amazing people! I wonder if you have any recs for human aus where the boys are like teen or uni aged? Like cute young love story. Maybe spicy. Thank you! <3

Hi! Tags you'll want to take a look at are: #childhood friends, #high school au, #college au, and #university au. Here are some more to add...

Vignettes of a Life Together by Busy24_7 (E)

Crowley, botany student and professional worrier, is harboring a massive, secret crush on his new roommate. Aziraphale, on the other hand, is more clueless than he is given credit for. Will these two ever figure it out, or is Crowley doomed to a life of pining? A 5+1-style fic with a whole lot of fluff and intentionally minimal angst. Rated M for the first few chapters, but will be upgraded to E if Crowley ever gets his way…

The End is Where We Start From by Optimistic Starlight (E)

“Aziraphale, hello. It’s er, been a long time.” “Yes, dreadfully long. You look different.” He immediately coloured in evident embarrassment. “I mean, of course you look different, as do I of course, I didn’t mean bad different, that is to say…” Something inside of Crowley, something that had been in a deep freeze for several eons, was starting to thaw. It was letting little bits and pieces of familiarity break loose to float back into their rightful places in his soul. One of those pieces, those round, blue eyes, suddenly snapped into place, and he felt a corresponding wave of long-forgotten feeling wash through him. Aziraphale is anxious. Make Aziraphale happy. “Yeah,” he interrupted. “D’you wanna… get a coffee or something?” *** Crowley and Aziraphale meet by chance on the street. They've met before, in their youth, in a different life. Some difficult things have happened since then. Will they be able to find their way back to each other and to themselves?

Down to the River by CemeteryAngel725 (E)

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Crowley walked out of Azi’s life and broke both of their hearts. Since then, Azi has been living in suspended animation, working in the army/navy surplus booth he inherited from his dad and writing horror novels. Now Tony is back from the city, flush with success and wanting to catch up with Azi. Should Azi risk his heart and try to reclaim what they’ve lost? Or is it too late to start over? A Good Omens human AU inspired by Bruce Springsteen.

Against All Odds by GroovyNightStrawberry (E)

How can you just walk away from me? When all I can do is watch you leave 'Cos we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears You're the only one who really knew me at all Az is eleven, and his world is falling apart. His best friend is walking away from him, and Az can't find a way to make him stay. Thirty-five years later, there's a familiar face at Aziraphale's new job, and it threatens to break his heart all over again. Can they do it better this time?

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

- Mod D

[ceruleanwhore]

I know it's been a minute since Hazbin dropped and I'm late to the hate train but I have things I want to say, so I shall.

First off, the whole thing makes absolutely no fucking sense, conceptually. There is really no good way to execute this batshit idea of Lucifer having a daughter and that daughter deciding to start a fucking hotel in Hell to redeem sinners so they can go to Heaven. Also, the culling shit with the angels showing up to just kill already dead souls for no reason also makes no sense and there really isn't any way to make it make sense.

Secondly, when making yet another piece of media inspired by Christian canon, even if it is Christianity and you hate the religion, you absolutely have to know the source material before you go fucking with it. That's why, for example, Dogma is such a good movie but this series falls flat even though both are comedic critiques of Christianity - Dogma understands the subject well enough to criticize it intelligently whereas Hazbin feels like it was conceptualized and made by someone who only watched like two episodes of Veggie Tales and otherwise knows jack shit about the religion. Throwing Lilith in there is worse because she isn't even in Christianity and it has the same vibes as when CCD classes host a Passover Seder by and for a bunch of gentiles to 'teach' about what Jesus was up to when he was around. It's just so disrespectful. Actually, that's what it is - the creators learned everything they know about Christianity, Heaven, and Hell from Tumblr posts which is definitely why she's in there.

If they knew more about the thing they're trying to make a whole ass show about, Adam and Eve wouldn't have been angels, there would be no hotel because you could just have the creation of Purgatory instead or, at the very least, some take on the harrowing of Hell and salvation of the virtuous pagans in Limbo. Also, even if you don't want to touch the Bible because it's icky (and I mean yeah), all you had to do was read like Dante's Inferno and peep the Ars Goetia and then actually make a structured Hell with a hierarchy and everything. I think kinda like what Rachel Smythe did with the worldbuilding in Lore Olympus, they wanted to modernize Hell for some reason, so the turf war/mafia type shit was supposed to replace a stronger hierarchy of Hell with princes and dukes and presidents and such, but I fucking hate it and there's no goddamn structure.

More importantly, the worldbuilding of Hell itself completely misses the fucking point of Hell as a thing. Hell is there both to contain Satan and the fallen angels who joined him in that uprising thing that one time and also to serve as a place where sinners go when they die and are punished for their sins. We never see even once any sort of actual system for sorting all these souls and punishing them for their sins. On the contrary, characters like Angel Dust appear to get to do drugs for the rest of their immortal lives and, since they're dead, it's not like those are going to kill them so it really doesn't read like a punishment. The closest we get to actual punishments are when the sinners/demons have gone and made deals that give other residents of Hell control over them, like how Husk is under Alastor's control and then Alastor apparently also has some kind of deal screwing him over, and Angel's situation with shitty boa dude is pretty similar too. It feels like they did the extermination shit to replace punishment in Hell along with these deals we see here and there, which is utterly fucking ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.

The other thing I'd add kind of going off that is that Heaven in this series also makes literally no fucking sense. It's actually also the biggest issue I have with Good Omens that it makes NO SENSE for the angels to have no clue what God's plan is or, in this case, how souls even get into Heaven. The whole fucking point is that there's an entire, nicely structured hierarchy for exactly this. Seraphim, cherubim, and thrones are all closest to God, so they can get the info from Them and pass it to the lower ranks. Hell, this could even be how you get problems, like you make it a bit of a gimmick that Heaven runs on a massive game of telephone. It also could've been a way to have some really cool variety in character design, so maybe some of the higher ranking angels look like the weird biblical shit with all the eyes and fire and they get progressively more normal as you go down the hierarchy. Instead, they picked like three recognizable names, made them into pretty people with wings and potentially also stupid Homestuck looking masks, and threw them in our face while just refusing to actually bother with worldbuilding or character design.

That brings me to the third thing which is that, when doing a series like this based on something like Christianity, you really have to sit down and figure out what kind of God your Christian God in your series is going to be, even if They never show up on screen. Is this God distant and neglectful and that's how all this shit is happening? Or do we have the wrathful God of the Israelites who regularly exterminates Hell out of pure sadistic rage? Or do we have a weak God on the verge of death who is barely present out of necessity while the angels take advantage of that absence and run amok? And it's not even just that determining what kind of God is supposed to be the God of this series would inform why stuff happens like it does, it would also help the writers to have a sense of direction and motive for what happens.

The writing in the show is all over the fucking place and figuring out what kind of God this God is meant to be is the very first question they should've asked themselves and it would've prevented most of the problems that currently exist in the show. If we had that, then maybe we wouldn't have weird shit with Lucifer where he very much does not feel like he's the devil at all and also Charlie is supposed to have daddy issues but then he shows up and is just a really adoring and supportive dad so that doesn't make sense. If we had that, then maybe Hell would have a fucking structure because we would actually have the motive behind Hell itself and why it exists. If we had that, then maybe we could get into the nitty gritty of the ethical/theological complexities of Hell and how, no matter how you slice it, it's really God's will at the end of the day so we could get a whole debate over if Lucifer is even evil or if God is just controlling and sadistic and all that. If we had that then maybe we could even have some reveal about how sin isn't even a concrete thing and the true nature of Hell is that it's a place people choose to go when they die because they don't feel worthy of salvation and they feel in their soul that they need to be punished. Anything, really.

Fourth is that it really, really shouldn't be a musical series. The pacing fucking sucks and they overexplain everything and I just feel like if you took all the time spent on shitty musical numbers and instead put it into showing, not telling, and also developing characters and relationships, it could be a lot better. If there was more time for shit, then maybe Charlie could not be a Mary Sue and Vaggie could have a personality and Angel could be an actual fucking character that isn't just an animated twink with trauma who gets off on violating people's boundaries. Also, I just really didn't like most of the songs in the series (outside the series they're fine) and I skipped a lot of those scenes.

Fifth and final is that it really just wasn't funny. A lot of the stuff that was supposed to be funny was just excessive swearing that felt completely unnatural, like that tiktok going around of that girl saying the n word. If you're bothering to do a whole series set in Hell that's ostensibly about Christianity, then why tf aren't you leaning more into biting criticism of Christianity for your humor? If they'd just gone full Dogma with this, it would've been so much better but no.

So yeah, it fucking sucked and so did the character design.

[evilwriter37]

20 Questions for 20 Writers

Tagged by: @howtodrawyourdragon. Thank you!

1. Is writing a hobby or way of life?

100% a way of life. It kind of has been since I was a child. I was sick all the time and had story ideas, so I started writing them down when I was too sick to go to school. I got bored of just reading and wanted to make my own.

2. A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Well, currently I have folders upon folders of notes for my fantasy novel, but obviously I would like a clean, completed manuscript at some point. The entire work is 28k words at the moment.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

My special interests for sure. Obviously How to Train Your Dragon, but when I get into something, I really get into it. Lol, one could say autism is my writing inspiration.

4.Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Probably someone I idolize reading my first draft. I'm getting a lot better at receiving rejection and critique but it's still very hard for me. I had a good singing voice before I had covid. (The band teacher and the chorus teacher in high school would fight over who got to have me. I chose band.) Covid has absolutely wrecked my singing voice, but I think I can get it back with practice. So yeah, I'll take someone listening to me sing over reading my first draft.

5. Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

I don't think so, no.

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

Ao3. One time ao3 logged me out and I was like: "What are you doing? I live here!" I do have fics on tumblr that have over 100 notes and I have no clue how that happened, especially when I look at interaction now. Interaction and fandom as a community are just dying on this website. Oh, and fanfiction.net was so horrible that I deleted all my stories from there and never looked back.

7. AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

3,125,805. I'm more than satisfied. I'm stunned. And for some reason self conscious? I've had people call me crazy for writing so much fanfic, especially for the same fandom, and it just hurts, because this is my passion. What did you think I was going to do? Hit 1 million words and stop writing? No fucking way.

8. What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Movies and shows: How to Train Your Dragon, Good Omens, Teen Wolf

Books: Hard to say because I only really recently got back into reading. I haven't written fanfic for a book since I wrote a single Captive Prince fic. Oh man, Captive Prince was so good. Thank you pro censorship people for recommending it! (People got so mad about it and the themes in it that I decided I had to read it. So worth it.)

Fics: I'm so, so gripped by @lifblogs Bad Batch fic: Brother, Hold Me Up. That thing is an absolute work of art.

9. What's the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

I think the highest compliment I got was someone reading Infernal Fascination of all things with their book club. Like, this person would give me updates about what was said during meetings and they just devoured it. It was awesome.

10. What defines your writing style?

Visceral description and poetic prose. I like to think.

Tagging @wyked-ao3 @the-bar-sinister

[just-sauntered-vaguely-downwards]

I went camping yesterday somewhere with no service. I worked through a lot of things.

I don’t expect anyone to actually read my novel under the cut, but the TL/DR:

-I have deleted the post from my page that n**l reblogged the day before this all broke (not sure if there’s a way to delete his? Kinda hate I’m the second post on his page…). It’s not to “hide” what I said. How could I have known? I need to stop feeling guilty for that. It’s that I don’t believe those things anymore.

-Good Omens has a place in me. It’s etched in. And I do not believe that loving those characters and their story means you support that one of the creators. I’m mostly supporting all you artists and writers and beautiful content creators.

-As I’ve said all week, take care of yourself first.

I must have seriously dissociated this week with the panic attacks from SA ptsd because I have pages and pages in my notes app that I DON’T REMEMBER TYPING.

And one of those things was “NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS, YOUR LIFE IS BETTER. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. NOTHING AND I MEAN FUCKING NOTHING CHANGES THAT OR CAN TAKE IT AWAY” (yeah I went all caps).

I started doubting myself last week. Started questioning all my progress…everything that I kept thanking n**l for and saying he was responsible for.

But in reality he wasn’t. I WAS. Characters he made and words he wrote may have helped me, but I put in the work. I spent hours and hours thinking and writing and despite how embarrassing it was googling things like “am I asexual” like a confused teenager. I am so happy and confident and I’m dressing how I really want to and I’m saying what I want to and not holding the ME back anymore that I didn’t even realize I’d been suppressing.

I will never support future endeavors. But the joy and inspiration Aziraphale and Crowley have brought us is ours. A horrible person should not be able to take away or negate their story and what it means to us.

To anyone who needs to completely cut off all content. I truly understand. To anyone else choosing to still engage in this fandom, it doesn’t mean we approve or support that one of their creators. We love the story, the characters, the community on here.

Cause look at ao3! Look at fanart! We’ve given them stories and lives and emotions beyond the show and the book in the tens of thousands!! They’re almost more ours now anyway.

Now that I’m off my soap box, I will say for myself as much as anyone else, be kind to yourself and take care

[lazulian-devil]

I think, deep down, what Im enamored with as a Skulduggery Pleasant Fan, is not the actual written canon but the vibes.

I dont know when it started and how and why, but there was a shift at some point in which the silliness of the books was outweighed by reality.

And yeah. Thats fair, honestly. But Ive read Demon Road as well and it just.... It literally oozes fun. Its a short, contained thing. Its full of funky ideas that dont have to be perfectly explored because, oopsie daisy, we dont actually have the time. It says something about growing up, about gender and sex, about trauma and about magic and then its over.

Maybe the Skulduggery Pleasant Universe is just... its been too long. If you need to reset everything, if your scale goes from Ireland to global to godhood, from Mage to Grand Mage to Supreme Mage, from protagonist to hero to godcreature? Maybe its too big.

I really enjoyed Book 10 and 11 and even 12. But its not the same enjoyment I have of Book 1. Or 2. Or 3. Like... This whole rant was prompted by Valkyrie saying, ca. Two thirds into Book 12, that (this isnt an accurate quote) "At first, it was Elementals and Adepts. Now theres so much more. Neoterics and Mutations. I think its enough."

And thats kind of funny, isnt it. Because yeah. The world grows and grows and grows and we say goodbye to characters, we get invested in new ones, we worry about Omen and Auger and Never. Militsa, even. Oberon. We meet characters again and they're different and new now.

But maybe, and I love this series to death, maybe its enough. There is an expiration date on all ideas. You can only write so much.

I wish Landy would do something like Demon Road again. It was fun, it was fast, it had vibes. At the same time, I know theres Book 16 to 18 in production right now and... Do I read them? Will they be good? Or have I already said goodbye to this series and all the things I held dear about it.

I was so young when I read the first book. And all its ideas and all its contents have been living in my head, essentially rent free. It has inspired me. It has shaped my perception on urban fantasy. It made me want to become a writer.

... So what now, I suppose.

I have 2,5 books more to go. I have a few ideas for analysis left. At the same time, the characters I love and want to support arent really there anymore. And thats both good and bad. Development is good, moving forward is good, writing shouldnt necessarily be stagnant.

I feel like - and this will make no sense to anyone - the bard in "The Sims Medieval". I have traveled the world, I have gathered my inspirations. Time to retreat and write an epic.

Or something silly like that.

[tenok]

For the Good Omens Ask Game:

2 - What was it that drew you to Good Omens, and what was it that sucked you into the fandom?

8 - Who is your favourite character and why? (my catziraphale side says to bend the rules if needed, so if you can't pick just one… surely, there must be a way around…)

💛💙

Aw thank you for asking mr kitty! 2. Well first there was the book, and it was recommeded by everyone like "it's ultimate british comedy" etc. Mind that it wasn't translated in my country yet, so it was like... 14 yo me and english dictionary against the book way above my english level. But I managed. Two things that striked me most were: a) the way that Adam's newly formed interest in politics was treated — it wasn't a joke by itself and he had every right to be angry with adults and humanity, you know? For baby activist it was inspiring; and b) azicrowley friendship. Yes, friendship. My aro ass still thinks that in book canon they are great friends and it's an ultimate aro happy ending of living together with your best friend forever. Than there was tv show and I had mixed feelings up untill 1x03 because after THAT flashbacks I just. Opened ao3 and never looked back because that was not only love story but also love story tailored specifically to my interests. 8. Well it would be too easy to say Aziraphale you know? So if not him and Crowley, I would be controversal and say Gabriel. I just *love* big buff narcisstic man, I love toxic family relationships, I love toxic exes, I love when people hurt other people because they themself so repressed and hurt they can't even phantom it, etc. Before season 2 I had several AU's where Gabriel one way or another was forced out of heavens and hid in Aziraphale's bookshop lol (one of them had him with his memory wiped even, can you imagine how I screamed???). Anyway in every AU I have I need to place Gabriel too, as broher/lover/boss/friend/politician/etc and I need him to have a satisfactory story too, so, yeah, I guess he's my fave!

[thejollywriter]

What the piece you are proudest of writing and why?

What's the hardest lesson you ever learned about crafting stories?

If you could collaboratively write a novel with any person living or dead who would you want to coauthor with and why?

"What piece of writing am i Proudest of, and why?"

I legitimately don't know off the top of my head. Because once I've written something, it kind of sluices off my brain and exists in this kind of nebulous state of "yeah I wrote a thing." unless, of course, it's brand new, and i need to show it to everyone immediately right now this instant or i will simply PERISH.

I'm very proud of the little mystery story I wrote earlier this year. I also, whilst scrolling through an album of sea-shanties one night, heard a song that like. CONSUMED my brain, and a story flashed into being all at once. And I proceeded to, in a fit of absolute motivation, write like 10,000 words in a single sitting to sate that creative need.

It was a Lot. but I'm very proud of it. It's also aesthetically different to most of the things I've written. It's on my patreon to read but yeah. I think that's the proudest one.

Though I will say: i may not be the best judge of what's really good that i've written? My friend Eve has read a LOT of my writing and one of her faves is this thing called Red Canvas. Premise is, a bad guy (we don't know he's a bad guy at the start, but there are Hints) encounters Delilah Jones one night on a rooftop. She's had a Bad Day, and is in a deeply fucked up way.

He convinces her to meet him, every morning, on that rooftop. He goes up there to paint the sunrise, catch the lights as they play across the skyscrapers and stuff. And he teaches her to paint. But it's a story about Delilah from the perspective of an outsider who doesn't know her, her reputation, or what she does. Just that she's Big, and she can Think. I am quite proud of that, but Eve RAVES about this particular story. so.

I'm proud of what I finish, because I managed to finish it.

"What's the hardest lesson you ever learned about crafting stories?"

Motivation has to come from You. You can't let other people be your Muse or your inspiration or things like that. They can give you pieces, they can give ideas and maybe even notes, but the internal combustion that makes you face that blank document HAS to come from within you.

Because if your Muse betrays your devotion, if you lose the inspiration, you'll wind up broken. And then you have to learn how to write, all over again. And you'll be starting from almost a worst place than simply square one.

It has to come from within, first. Validation, support, all that stuff makes it worthwhile, and helps us keep going.

But first the drive has to come from within.

"Who's the dream collab?"

I don't have one, full stop. I love peoples' stories because THEY wrote them. I don't know how Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett wrote Good Omens. They've both talked about How They Wrote It, but my autistic ass is out here being like, "nah son i'm a control freak and i don't play like that."

But it's also just kind of my writing process. A story only works for me if, as I write it, What Happens Next occurs to me. if someone else gives me that, i have to twist it somehow. I can't just take the plot point.

But that's just me. I don't want to make something with others, I just want more of what everybody already makes. Although. There are worlds I'd love to play in. Others' sandboxes I'd love to explore some. But that's more, they let me play with their toys, not, we play with them together to create a Thing.

Thank you for the ask <3

[stevethehairington]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

ty to the lovely @thefreakandthehair and @hexiewrites for the tags!! this looks like a fun one!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 117 so far and still counting!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 662,484!

3. What fandoms do you write for? currently stranger things and i've been toying around with the idea of jumping back into writing for good omens! just gotta get the worms to worm, yknow?

but i have also historically written for: skam; marvel; love simon/simon vs; it; shameless; supernatural; (and once for hp and once for trust but i will likely not ever write for either of those again sooo how much do they really count? lol)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. good for my boy (steddie) 2. can't hide the way you make us glow (steddie) 3. i want to hold your hand (steddie) 4. sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy (steddie) 5. the world will follow after (steddie)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YES!!! i DO!!! i am INCREDIBLY behind on replying to comments, i got busy and didn't have the chance to reply to any and then they started to pile up and now there is an overwhelming amount in my inbox (currently around 450 sdkljfds) so i just gotta. carve out some time to start tackling all of them. but i am firmly of the belief that if you took the time to leave me a comment i will take the time to respond!! it... just might be a hot minute before that response comes... but it will!! that is a guarantee!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? haha if you know me you know that writing angst is not something i do all that often. i am a Certified Soft Bitch, and when i do write angst i always try to end it on a happy note because my blorbos deserve that happiness. but i suppose there are a few fics i've written that have... less than happy, perhaps more ambiguous endings. i think there are probably two that i can think of that could potentially fit the bill here...

keep me on a rope, which is my unrequited stommy fic. it IS a happy ending for steddie, but certainly not for tommy lol, so i suppose that counts!

and then i'll throw in beneath the stars too, which is the very first good omens fic i ever wrote (directly inspired by samson by regina spektor!) in which in the early days of their acquaintanceship, aziraphale shows crowley kindness, crowley makes a move and kisses aziraphale, and aziraphale pushes him away and is vehement about the fact that they can't. though, this one kind of ends with aziraphale having an italicize ohment (literally), sooo i guess it's not all that angsty of an ending?

if we wanna bring tumblr drabbles into the mix tho... i definitely have some angsty ones that do not end happily...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? happiest ending!!! oh boy!!! try, like, every fic i've ever written basically?? dakljfsd as previously established, i am a Certified Soft Bitch, so pretty much all of my fics end with my blorbos happily in love and living/on their way to living their best lives. i really don't know if i can pick one that is the "happiest". i suppose if i absolutely had to pick, i'd maybe say let me know your future plans, which i wrote for the stucky big bang way back when. it's PURE romcom and it ends in a happy wedding so!!

8. Do you get hate on fics? i have not! which, considering how many fandoms i've written for and how crazy some of those fandoms can get, i am INCREDIBLY grateful for. i've got good egg readers and i am very very thankful for it. i think the worst comment i've ever gotten on a fic was one where someone like criticized robin in my fic and called her a bad friend, but that was because they THOROUGHLY misinterpreted her actions in the fic and like seriously misunderstood that she wasn't actually genuinely being an asshole. but yeah, i wouldn't really classify that as hate, that was just lacking reading comprehension lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do! i feel like it's been a hot minute since i have published any lol, but, historically, i have! and i certainly will (eventually) write and publish more! as for "what kind", gay. i write gay porn. dskljfs. all of the smut i have ever written has been gay and very likely all of it ever will be lksjfs. i also don't think my smut writing ever gets, like, super wild or anything. i'm fully one of those people that likes my smut to be very feelings heavy and like there's gotta be that emotional connection, that seals the DEAL for me, so yeah i tend to write it that way too. fun fact though, the first fic of mine that ever hit 1k kudos was a smut fic! lmao.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? nope! i am very much NOT a crossover fan. don't like to read 'em, don't like to write 'em. i just think there's too much going on in them and i don't like to mix and match my fandoms.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i'm aware of! and hopefully it never will happen either!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? honestly? i cannot remember. sdkfjlsd i feel like i maybe had a request to translate a fic a looooong time ago, but i genuinely do not remember.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? none that have ever been posted! i've started co-writing fics before, but those have never been finished rip. i would really love to actually co-write something and finish it eventually though!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? ohhhhhhhhhhh MAN. that's a TOUGH question. i've loved so many ships over the years, and they've all been incredibly dear to me. obviously, my favorite at any given time is going to be whatever is my current favorite, whatever is actively snagging my attention and digging it's claws into me (so atm, steddie or ineffable husbands). BUT. since we are talking favorite of all time... i think i gotta go with stucky here. there is just something SO beautiful about that one and there is SO much to work with there, the possibilities are truly endless.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? well i've got a MILLION wips i want to finish in my wips folder that will likely never get touched again skljgfsg but. oh man. i think i gotta say if you love me, if you hate me, which breaks my hEART to say. but skfljdf it's been five years since i posted it and i STILL have not ever gone back to finish it, despite desperately wanting to (because gOD DAMMIT IT HAUNTS ME, IT FUCKING H A U N T S ME!!! THAT IS THE ONLY FIC I'VE E V E R POSTED THAT I HAVE LEFT UNFINISHED AND I HATE THAT SO MUCH!!! I WANT IT TO BE COMPLETE!!!). i always say that i would love to go back and finish it one day, and that sentiment still stands!!! i really would!!! but man, i havent thought about skam in a writing-sense in, obviously, years. and i truly don't know if i ever will be able to get back in that mindset. like i always say though, never say never...

16. What are your writing strengths? writing strengths ooh hmm... well. i personally spend a lot of time on making sure i get my characterizations right when i'm writing any character - that is one of thee most important parts of fic writing to me, because a poorly characterized character is one of the QUICKEST ways to take me out of a fic. so i take that shit seriously. and i like to think that i understand the characters well enough that i am successful in this, that i do do a good job of it, that you can read any one of my fics and go YEAH he WOULD say that. i've gotten compliments about my characterizations on lots of my fics before too (which is genuinely the highest compliment to receive, it makes me so happy to hear), so i like to think that my judgement of my own skill here is not wildly off base lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? hmmmm. well, i tend to get super in my head about everything when i've been staring at a doc for too long. i start to like,,, forget how to write well lol. i feel like when that happens i start to like get repetitive and super basic in my writing, which is, obviously, not what i want lol. also, endings. i have so much trouble writing endings. also i struggle SO HARD with just like. writing a random scene that doesn't have like. all this buildup and background. like i cannot for the life of me just start writing in the middle of a scene adflskd. i have to have some sort of setup, which makes it very difficult when i cannot figure out what that setup should be lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? don't really have many thoughts on it tbh. i don't do it. mostly because i don't really include any other languages in my fics lol. but i suppose if i ever did and it wasn't like a well known phrase or something that the fandom would know without a translation, then i'd definitely include a translation somewhere. there is nothing i dislike more than when a fic throws in a significant amount of another language (aka not just one or two tiny phrases here andnthere) and doesn't include a translation. like i'm not out here trying to switch between tabs just so i can understand your fic. so yeah if i ever did include other languages, i would definitely be sure to include translations too.

19. First fandom you wrote for? first fandom i wrote for and published my written work for was skam!!! skam my beloved, you will always be special to me. i diiiiid dabble in fic writing before skam, but none of that was ever finished or posted and it never will be and i will not be saying what fandom it was for skfljgdfg (if you know me though you probably know the answer sdfkjsd). but yeah!! skam was baby's first fic writing fandom!!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? omgggg this is like asking someone to pick their favorite child... i CANT skdjfsl. can i cheat and list a couple favorites? sdkfjdsf. im gonna cheat and list a couple favorites. OKAY. so some of my favorites i've written include:

let me know your future plans - my fic for the 2018 stucky au big bang! this is the first bang i ever did, and it is the longest fic i have ever written! i'm honestly incredibly proud of myself for having done it; bangs are hard sldslkfs. writing a fic over that long of a time period and sticking with it until the end is hard, but i did it! i stuck with it and i finished it and wrote the whole thing i wanted to write and honestly it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my writing career. also, i fucking love a good romcom and that fic is pure romcom so. yEAH.

good for my boy - my wayne pov steddie fic! i'm ALSO super proud of this one because writing from wayne's pov was something so different for me and it was a challenge to make sure i got the balance of getting his voice right without crossing the line and making it sound like a caricature of him, and i think i did a pretty good job of getting him right!

under my umbrella - another steddie fic! this one was just something that came to me totally randomly and i just remember how easily the whole thing spilled out. it was SO incredibly fun to write and it combines some of my favorite things (steddie and RAIN kafjsd) and i just love this one a lot.

keep me on a rope - my unrequited stommy, steddie fic!! i LOVE L O V E LOVE writing tommy pov, and i LOVE L O V E LOVE writing tommy lore and this fic let me do both and it was just SO fun to write and to explore that fucked up little guy and i'm so so pleased with how it turned out. and also the response it got? THRILLING. having people tell me that me and my fic got them thinking about tommy as more than just some random side character that shows up in a couple episodes and disappears and that it got them appreciating that character? THEE BEST!!!! LITERALLY!!! spreading the tommy agenda to as many people as i can is my goal in life and this fic FULLY helped me open some eyes sdkfljsd.

imagine being loved by me - you know WHAT im gonna add this one to the list too because i think it is the best smut i have ever written. this was my first and only (so far anyways) foray into good omens smut lol and i'm actually suuuuper proud of how it turned out. like feels a little weird calling something i wrote hot but,,,,, i kinda went off with how hot it turned out adlkfjdslkf. at least to me it did anyways skjflsd.

that's the end of it now!! so i will tag: @withacapitalp @toburnup @2btheanswertothequestion @flowercrowngods @cheatghost @steddielations @henderdads @harmonictechnicality @sidekick-hero @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @steddieasitgoes @aidaronan @phoeniceae @pizzaqueen @fastcardotmp3 @wynnyfryd @maxineholtzmann @maxinemaxmayfield and anyone else that wants to do it!! (also if you've already been tagged feel free to ignore! i did not look at anyone else's tag list before doing mine lol)

[phanfictioncatalogue]

(TW) Alcohol Masterlist

30 Days To Fall - kawaii-kanai

Summary: Dan’s scraped by in life, never really enjoying it due to persistent bullies, stern parents, and loneliness. When a mysterious man from his past tells him he only has 30 days left to live, he finally takes the initiative to make the best of what time he has left.

All I Want (ao3) - det395

Summary: Prompt: It’s Christmas, Dan/Phil is alone and doesn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, so one winds up drunk and passed out in the snow, the other finds them and brings them back to their apartment to make sure they’re okay and not dying.

All I Want for Christmas is You - scifiphan

Summary: It’s almost Christmas and all it takes is a cup of mulled wine for Dan to realise he has been in love with Phil all along.

Angel Baby (ao3) - bestelitecouple

Summary: Daniel Howell is tired of being seen as a Baby, especially because it’s been his given nickname ever since it became well-known that he skipped an entire year at university. He’s not someone who needs his hand held or a dummy in his mouth, and yet everyone who knows him seem to think so, if they even know him at all. He decides that if he wants to get rid of his child-like image, he’s going to have to change. But just how far is he willing to go to clear his name? And what does a certain boy who’s far too cool for him have to do with it?

a thread to hold - waverlysangels

Summary: Phil wanted a sensible life, a fireplace and a picket fence, and Dan was a wrecking ball he could simply no longer afford to keep around. But once you care for someone, it never really goes away, a constant thread between the two of them.

Climbing The Ladder (ao3) - kawaiikanai

Summary: Punk!Dan and Punk/TattooArtist!Phil both struggle to find themselves after past event that have shaken their trust in other people and in themselves.

drunk words are sober thoughts (ao3) - bombshellphil

Summary: The opportunity of a life time comes in the form of Phil Lester actually showing up at a party, all tattoos and bright blue eyes. Dan's been crushing on him for far too long, so getting the chance to play Never Have I Ever with his crush? Yeah, he can't pass that one up. What could go wrong?

Drunken Anons (ao3) - maetaurus

Summary: In Dan’s drunken state of mind, he decides it’s a good idea to send suggestive anons to Phil. The only problem, Dan forgot to click the anon button.

Drunken Conclusion - passionfruitwriter

Summary: | Dan gets drunk while Phil is away and accidentally buys a wedding ring

Empty Double Cups (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Dan and Phil are in a relationship, but you wouldn’t think it. They attempt to surpass their first milestone as a couple – their first house party, where everyone would see them together.

Feeling Good - birdyhowell

Summary: Dan steals alcohol and brownies from a party his brother was holding (who I made older in this fic) and meets Phil at their favourite meet-up place. Best friends for years, they get really drunk for the first time and learn that the brownies they had were actually weed brownies. Cue young Dan and Phil confessing some feels and start hooking up.

Hiding Truth (ao3) - ineffabledaniel

Summary: Badboy, Heartbreaker, Demon. These are all words that perfectly discribe Daniel Howell. Dan’s parents stuck him in a boarding school full of humans. It was going pretty grest for a little while. Until a tall dark haired boy ruins his perfect world by becoming his roommate.

I’ll Hold Your Flower Crown (ao3)- kitchen_sinks

Summary: Small pastel!Dan gets drunk at a party and throws up all over punk!Phil and his leather jacket

Of Love and Demons (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: “Everything can love, Dan.”

“Don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.”

Dan looks at him - properly looks at him - the earnest twist of his eyebrows and his unbearable eyes. Maybe that’s what makes him say it.

“What’s it like, then?”

In which Dan, a demon, learns about love. Good Omens inspired AU.

Ride Sharing (ao3) - phansparent

Summary: Phil hates the drunken idiots who troll the streets of London on his commute home. He doesn’t mind ones named Dan who share his cab and spontaneously give him blowjobs.

Settling Down (ao3) - thatsmistertoyou

Summary: Dan and Phil go to an arcade and get to talking about kids and commitment. They then get drunk with other YouTubers, who force them to reconsider their relationship.

Snakebite Heart with a Bubblegum Smile - dark-days-dark-nights-xx

Summary: Phil didn’t want to be there, he really didn’t, but his parents had insisted Uni would benefit and he was determined to hate it. That was until he met his roommate, a guy whose wardrobe consisted of pastel jumpers and flower crowns who made Phil admit who he really was. (Punk/pastel Uni! AU)

Stuck In A Moment (ao3) - jedinow

Summary: Dan Howell (danisnotonfire) is stuck in a time loop. Unfortunately, his flatmate and best friend Phil Lester (AmazingPhil) is not stuck in the loop with him. Dan explores many activities and experiences a wide variety of emotions as he searches for the key to finally breaking the loop.

Terrifying Truths And Drunken Dares (ao3) - thejigsawtimess

Summary: It's late, they're both drunk, but there's vodka and each other, and hey - you know what sounds great? Truth or frickin dare.

The Bet (ao3) - Do_it_with_the_Howell_Lesters

Summary: Dan was drunk, he shouldn’t have even considered it but… “How much?”

“£100.” Jack grinned, hiccuping and taking a swig of his beer. “Deal?”

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: Dan has never been a fan of frat houses, and after Phil comes onto him at a frat party and then pushes him into a pool, Dan can’t help feeling vindicated. Phil, on the other hand, just wants to apologize.

The Iron Hoof Cattle Call (ao3) - phangelica

Summary: Dan is a hitman going town to town trying to run away from his past and Phil is a bartender who just wants to help. Set in the late 1800s in the Arizona-Mexico border.

The Torture of OCD - wishicouldunreadthat

Summary: (tw) “We’ve just completed the full assessment of Dan’s behaviour and regret to inform you…” The doctor leaned forward in his chair and watched Phil, eyes full of heavy sympathy. “We believe Dan is suffering with OCD.”

to roll with what comes (ao3) - symmetricdnp

Summary: But Phil had thought those were just stories. Stories that people would stumble upon online or hear from a friend, that’d make them think of how lucky they were that it didn’t happen to them.

Phil's comfortable yet decidedly average life gets turned upside down when he ends up bonded to a barista that he's exchanged about three sentences with.

we have more in common than i thought (ao3) - pseudofangs

Summary: bad boy!dan has a bit of a secret crush on nerd!phil, and when grouped with him in class he uses the opportunity to convince him to come to a party. (what happens next will shock you!!) (not really, no shocks don’t worry)

featuring a latin class, a party, becky&jessica, flustered drunk boys. and more softness than intended.

You and I Against The World (ao3) - my_happy_little_bean

Summary: Dan and Phil are top MI5 agents, partners, and best friends. But when a party goes wrong and Dan is kidnapped, Phil is thrown into a chaos only he can get out of. Between mysterious clues, vengeful friends, hidden feelings, and sleeping with your bestie, he believes his social life may be harder than his actual job.

You're Easy to Crack (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: dan and phil are both cocky frat boys that love beer almost as much as they love each other. dan, drunk and horny, challenges phil to a game of beer pong: whoever wins, tops. may the games begin.

[foliosgirl]

Hey. I had loose thoughts in my mind about Folio as a drum teacher, so I don't know already where this will end (probably in smut, hehe). I'm writing this from Folio's and my perspective.

Let's start with Folio. Enjoy. If you want to be tagged let me know :)

Songs (as an inspiration):

Amber Mark - Mixer

Bad Omens - Malice

Drake feat. Jay-Z - Talk up

Majid Jordan, Naomi Sharon - Waiting for you

Phil Collins - Easy Lover

Zayn - Sweat

Lenny Kravitz - Again

Bad Omens - Just pretend (Live 2024)

Coldplay - Clocks

Thornhill - Nurture

Linkin' Park - Numb

Twenty One Pilots - At the risk of feeling dumb

TD_Nasty, Clara La San - Where u wanna be

Architects - Black lungs

I'll extend this. Maybe :)

Teach me

(Nick)

It's been a sucky time since Noah, the singer of my band suffered from a burn out and nobody knew when it would go on again. Our project Concrete Jungle OST, a soundtrack to our comics, had been released a few days ago.

My cell phone beeped:

"The fans are crazy about your OST album. Some of them like it a lot, but a lot of them don't like it at all. So it's the same as always."

I didn't even read through any comments like that anymore. The message was from our tour manager Matt.

I was exhausted too. It had just been too much lately. Nicholas, our bass player, was the only one who had somehow managed to get through this time reasonably well. Jolly, the guitarist, was already composing new songs after we had canceled our dates in Europe and the UK because he couldn't stand still and do nothing. It was hard for me too, but as a drummer I couldn't write my own songs if I didn't even have a melody. I needed something to do other than spend hours a day improving my drumming. I decided to give drum lessons for the first time in my life. In the garage at my parents' house a few streets away was my current kit and the old one I'd had since childhood. I couldn't part with the old kit. Even today, I sometimes only practiced on the small old kit so that I could play in a more reduced way. Besides, it didn't bother anyone in the garage.

In my own apartment, the neighbors were too close and would never have accepted it. I went to the music school where I was taking drum lessons myself at the time to ask Scott, the head of the school, if I could put up a notice. It said:

"Offering drum lessons for beginners and intermediates ages 6 and up. Nick: +1 323 xxxx xxxx".

It felt good to be back.

"Is Scott in?" I asked the obviously new receptionist.

"Just a moment. What's your name?"

"Nick" I replied a little nervously and looked at the posters on the walls.

"Hey Nick!" Scott said and greeted me with a handshake. "How's it going?"

"That's why I'm here. I need to do something. It's been very stressful over the last few years, but Noah's burnt out and we don't know when we'll continue. Certainly not in the next six months. He has 2 therapy sessions every week and the rest of the time he hardly leaves his bed. But I can't go on making music on my own. I have a big request for you. Can I put this up here? I can make good use of the time now and give lessons in my parents' garage. You probably still don't have enough teachers, do you?"

"I'm sorry about that. Sure, put the note up. No problem. Tracy, could you give Nick some tape so he can put the note up?"

The receptionist handed me the tape and grinned.

I tore off two small strips and read through my note again. Relieved, I exhaled and gave her the tape back.

"Oh Nick, I have a really talented boy who would probably be happy if he could take a few lessons with you. I'll let him know straight away, all right?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you soon, Scott. Take care, buddy!"

I closed the door, grabbed my skateboard and headed back home.

After all, I'd been out for about 15 minutes today.

I put on my headphones and played my playlist (Linkin' Park - Numb).

At the intersection, my cell phone vibrated. "How are you? I'm sorry. I can't say it enough. (Noah via iMessage).

I rolled my eyes. He had already apologized 100 times. It was for the best instead of us all breaking up at some point. The mood had been very tense over the last few weeks because we were all just exhausted from touring.

"I'm giving drum lessons soon. Scott already has a student for me. I've just put up a notice. Maybe a few more will join. Otherwise, I hope you get a little better every day. And stop apologizing!"

'Where u wanna be' TD_Nasty, Clara La San

I couldn't listen to it anymore. A favorite song of my ex-girlfriend. Our relationship didn't survive all the touring. I had hardly been home in the last two years, always on the road. I missed her, but it was better that way, even though we had been in a relationship for a very long time. Since high school, 10 years. I skipped the song, no, I even removed it from my playlist for good. Fuck it.

'Architects - Black Lungs'

I put my left leg back on the board and used my right one to continue riding home.

Exhausted, I flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. Netflix and chill. Although it was sunny, I had no motivation to do anything else today.

---

(Stella)

I took my little cousin to music school for bass lessons. My aunt worked a lot and didn't have much time for him, but at least she picked him up from his lessons after work. I couldn't do much with him. He was 13, in the middle of puberty and exhausting. But not because he was loud, just the opposite. He couldn't get a sound out. Even with me, he only talked the bare minimum. Well, bass was probably the most suitable instrument for him. With anything else, he would be more the center of attention and I didn't see him there at all. "Have you got a new drum teacher by now? I'd still like to take lessons." I asked Tracy, the receptionist at the music school. "Unfortunately not, but look, someone put that note up last week. He gives lessons in his garage. He was a really nice guy who also studied with us."

'Offering drum lessons for beginners and intermediates ages 6 and up. Nick: +1 323 xxxx xxxx'.

I took a picture of the note with my mobile.

"Okay, Taylor, have fun."

Wordlessly and at a snail's pace, the teenager walked into the rehearsal room.

I rolled my eyes. "God forbid. I'm done with kids." I let Tracy know. "Until the right one comes along."

"The right one won't come along and I'm already too old."

"At 29?" she asked with a grin. "Thank you," I laughed.

I was already 34. Fucking 34. I was always estimated to be younger, which of course made me happy, but I just wasn't having any luck with men.

I didn't even want to fall in love anymore, my experiences were too bad, I preferred just to have sex without commitment.

It also suited my job as a nurse better. The constant shift work was anything but relationship-friendly.

'Hey Nick, do you still have a slot for a beginner? I'd be delighted. -Stella'

I sent the text message.

The next day I received a reply: 'Hi Stella, sure. When do you have time? Can you come tomorrow at 4pm?'

I looked at my duty roster.

'That fits. Can you send me the address?

I didn't hear back until my shift was over at 3pm the next day.

'Sorry, I hope you can still make it. I'm a bit stressed." This time, the message arrived on WhatsApp with the location stamp from Google Maps.

Now I was stressed too. I hurried home to get something to eat, packed up my dad's sticks and set off on my bike. I arrived in front of a beautiful house just in time. I couldn't miss Nick because he was already shmashing drums. I didn't see a doorbell on the garage, so I decided to call him.

"Stella here. I'm outside the garage."

A good-looking, dark-haired man opened the garage from the inside and invited me in.

"Nick. Nice to meet you. You want to start drumming?" I nodded. He was so damn attractive that it made me nervous and left me speechless at first. His hair was freshly cut and styled back. He was muscular and wore black trousers and a dark red T-shirt. I also noticed his countless tattoos. His left arm was completely full and he had one on his neck, that was all I could see.

I didn't want to come across as weird, so I tried to forget how handsome he looked and started talking.

"Yes, I have to. For my father." "For your father?" he asked, puzzled.

"My father passed away recently. I live in his house now and I'm sure he'd be happy to have his drums used." I smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. Can you read music sheets?" "No. Does it matter?"

He shook his head before answering my question in the negative.

"Okay. What do you know about drums so far?" My eyes drifted to the smaller kit. "May I?"

"That's what you're here for."

I sat down and adjusted the chair. I played everything one by one and told him the names of the drums and cymbals.

-"That's right. Can you play anything yet?" I grinned and played the simplest things I could. I was amazed myself that I hadn't forgotten how to do them.

"Good, what do you want to achieve?"

What did I want to achieve? "I want to get better." "We can do better," he smiled and sat down at the other kit

---

(Nick)

In the meantime, I had just accepted my 5th student. Another beginner, or rather my first female student. I decided not to take on any more new students. It was incredibly stressful and the mother of the boy Scott had referred to me was incredibly annoying and always pushed him so hard that I had to control myself not to freak out.

Stella, my new student, didn't seem to be a teenager anymore. At least that's not how her message read. I liked the Italian name. It reminded me directly of my partly Italian-born family.

I listened to my band's song 'Malice'.

'No matter how long it takes. I'm going to practice 'Malice' again and destroy everything on the next tour. Anyone against us including Malice in the set again?

I wrote in the group chat of our band. Somehow I missed the guys. Hanging out together almost every day after such a long time and getting on each other's nerves, but also growing closer together and now not seeing each other for an indefinite period of time was extremely strange. In general, it was strange to be alone so much, to no longer have a relationship, even though we had all the time in the world to have this relationship now, but it was too late.

I still had our photo as a lock screen. I hardly noticed it anymore.

I played 'Malice' for the first time in many years. It sounded like shit.

I was too slow on the double bass pedal and it annoyed me. I had forgotten the time, because when I sat down at the drums, time flew by. I was very ambitious to get better at it. Stella, my new student, called to say she was outside my garage. I opened the garage door and in front of me stood a slim woman with dark hair and a plunging neckline. Her large breasts immediately caught my eye and I couldn't tell if they were real. They distracted me. I hoped she didn't notice my gaze and was covering up the fact that...fuck, she's your student!

She seemed to be a few years older than me. A strange feeling that I should be teaching someone grown up among the children and teenagers, but certainly exciting. She looked at me shyly through her green eyes as I introduced myself and I asked if she wanted to start drumming. Such a stupid question. Why else was she here?

I took the opportunity to look unobtrusively at her ass as she adjusted her chair in front of the kit.

Fuck, this was never going to go well. I liked her, but she was my fucking student.

[citizen-sade]

Heart Like a Crown by HalloweenJack7 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Summary: Set post-S2, in an alternate timeline where Aziraphale realized his mistake and returned to Crowley, and all was as it should be. But what if it wasn't? What if he had actually been too late?

[Author note: Roughly inspired by this soul-shatteringly gorgeous work of art by Shoomlah, not that I'm delusional enough to think that my cringy, subpar nonsense actually does it ANY justice AT ALL. I just can't stop thinking about it and had to do SOMETHING, okay?! ]

--------------------------------------------------

Crowley glanced from his book to Aziraphale and back to the book again. His eyes scanned the same page he’d been pretending to read for the past ten minutes, comprehending none of it. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Reality had not been much of a friend to Crowley as of late. Ever since he had nearly lost Aziraphale to the devious influence of Heaven, many of his waking hours were spent trying to prove to himself that he was, indeed, awake, and not trapped in a dream loop with dream-Aziraphale, living out a dream-life in their dream-bookshop in dream-London—you get the gist.

No. He was here. He was really here. The angel— his angel—unmoving in his wingback chair, absorbed in some Georgette Heyer novel and outlined by the light of a very real fire.

At least, he was pretty sure it was real…

Only one way to find out.

Oh, yeah—and there was also the voice…

Well, it wasn’t so much an audible voice, as a manifestation of that itch you get in the back of your mind when things aren’t blatantly wrong, per se, but just awry enough to feel off.

And it was kind of a dick.

Crowley lost himself in the mesmeric sway of the flames in the hearth as he entertained the idea of reaching a hand out to them, just to make sure…

“—Crowley.”

“Hm?” Aziraphale was staring at him, reading glasses in hand, concern evident in the crease of his brow and a hint of annoyance in the subtle downturn of his lips, as though he’d been trying to get his attention for a while. It was a look that had become all too common lately.

“Everything alright?”

Crowley’s increasing restlessness and lack of focus these past weeks had not gone unnoticed, but the only assistance Aziraphale could think to offer was to remain a compassionate and grounding presence without overstepping his boundaries. If his friend didn’t wish to talk, far be it for him to press the matter.

“Peachy,” Crowley grinned, finally turning the page of his dog-eared copy of “Choke” by the American author, Chuck Palahniuk.

How much longer can this façade of domestic bliss possibly go on? the voice taunted.

This is right. This is how it should be.

Is it?

Of—of course it is…

If you say so.

I do fucking say so.

Crowley growled under his breath as he fidgeted. The stillness between them had started out comfortably enough; but the taunting voice grew louder, and bolder, as the evening wore on.

You don’t sound so sure.

Zira wouldn’t…

Wouldn’t what?

…hurt me.

Again,  you mean.

Crowley shifted and bit his lip as tears burned his eyes. He snapped the book shut and propelled himself to his feet.

Aziraphale looked up, startled, “Crowley? My dear, are you alright?”

He cleared his throat and blinked the collecting moisture away, “Ah, sssorry...” he scolded himself at the slip, a telltale sign of his fraying composure, “I, um... alcohol...?” 

Aziraphale arched a brow and opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley cut him off, “I mean, would you like a drink... Angel?”

“Why, certainly; but I can—” he set his book aside and moved to stand.

“No!” Crowley interjected, “No, it’sss—” Damnit! “it’s fine. I’ll get it.”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale settled back in his chair, fixing Crowley with those cloying puppy-dog eyes.

“Why, certainly,” he playfully echoed before disappearing into the adjacent room.

Once alone, he exhaled a long, measured breath and passed a hand over his face. Get your shit together, Crowley. He moved to the drink cart and reached for a new bottle of White Horse, ignoring the slight tremor of his hands as he broke the seal and poured them each a glass.

You should be used to this by now…

Crowley squared his jaw and set the bottle down with a little more force than intended.

The apprehension that simmers just beneath the surface… The persistent dread… 

Shut up.

The nagging suspicion that this could all be in your head… that at any moment you’ll wake up—

SHUT. UP. 

—Alone.

Go. The fuck. Away.

Perhaps if you tried asking nicely?

PLEASE go the fuck away.

Oh, if only it were that easy...  

The ice clinked against the crystal in his trembling, white-knuckled fingers.

Careful; what if it breaks? Who will pick up the pieces?

Crowley choked back a sob and downed the whiskey he’d just poured in one go. He clenched his teeth against the burn before gulping down the other; and then promptly threw back a third, for good measure.

Maybe that’ll shut you up for a while.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called from the other room.

“Aye, coming!” He hurriedly poured new glasses and moved towards the threshold, pausing to clumsily slip on the dark, round shades. An easy, familiar solace settled over him, one that only his sunglasses could provide. He would just have to hope that Zira wouldn’t ask.

Aziraphale watched him over the rim of his reading glasses as he gingerly accepted the offered tumbler. Always so gentle.

Except with what matters.  

Crowley winced and blinked at the sudden weight of a hand on his arm.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale pled softly.

“Yep?” he chirped, feigning nonchalance as he nursed his whiskey.

“You can talk to me.”

The demon frowned as he seemed to consider this for a moment and raised his glass to the firelight, staring pensively into its glinting amber depths.   

“Dylan Thomas drank himself to death at the White Horse pub,” he stated matter-of-factly, as though in the midst of a conversation already in progress, “Fun lad… until he wasn’t.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale inquired, pointedly ignoring the far-away quality to Crowley’s voice, “You knew him?”

You could say that.

Stop—

You tried to save him from himself. You failed.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

“Crowley?”

“What?!” he rounded on the angel, thankful for the glasses as he was certain Aziraphale’s alarmed expression mirrored his own.

“I—Um. Yeah. Last time I saw him was at the, ah… Wheatsheaf pub, in the West end. He had his head in some girl’s lap. I saw that they were married the following year.” 

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale chuckled awkwardly and raised a toast, “to the happy couple!”

Crowley sucked his teeth, “Their marriage was a stormy affair, fueled by alcohol and infidelity.”

Aziraphale sputtered, “Oh—ahem—well…”

Crowley scratched the back of his head and sheepishly gestured to the forgotten volume overturned on the side table, “Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“Not at all,” Aziraphale smiled warmly.

Crowley nodded vaguely and slunk away to resume his seat. His whiskey sloshed as he draped one leg over the arm of the chair. When it became clear Crowley had no intention of divulging what vexed him, Aziraphale took up his book once more and shifted to prop one foot up on the opposite knee.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the soft crackle and pop of the fire. Aziraphale was quite aware that he was being watched and it made him increasingly uneasy as the minutes ticked by. The words on the page blurred under the weight of those piercing, predatory eyes. Even behind those accursed glasses, he could feel that gaze boring into him. He was not oblivious as to why Crowley wore those glasses—the real reason, that is; not the obvious one that allowed him to blend in with mortal society virtually undetected. That was simply a bonus.

Crowley was irrefutably one of the most fascinating and effortlessly cool individuals Aziraphale had ever met. The perfectly-coiffed hair, the rock star fashion, the devil-may-care swagger (pun intended)—all coalesced into a single corporal form. And a beautiful one, at that, if he was any judge.

But he was also, as much as it pained the angel to admit, one of the most troubled.

Aziraphale could not fathom the toll that his fall from grace had undoubtedly taken on Crowley over the millennia; could not imagine what it would be like to be so unceremoniously cast out of Heaven. He dreaded the thought.

But no matter how guarded Crowley was, or how aloof he pretended to be, he could only conceal so much of himself at once—and those cold, slitted eyes were always the first to betray the state of Crowley’s nerves. All of the demon’s insecurities; his fears, his desires, his ambitions... Crowley played his cards close to his chest, and for good reason.

Crowley lowered both feet to the floor and rose. Aziraphale nearly breathed a sigh of relief, assuming he was going to fetch another drink, but his blood ran cold as a tall, thin shadow descended upon him and the toes of Crowley’s boots came into his view. He stared hard at the page, quietly willing his friend to say something, anything, to break the dreadful tension.

He wasn’t sure how long the demon stood before him, silent and ominous, before he heard him lift his glass to swallow what remained of his whiskey. Crowley then leaned over Aziraphale to set his glass on the small table beside the armchair and there was a sudden weight on his thighs. Crowley was straddling him. He moved his drink out of the way as his stunned brain busied itself with not spilling alcohol on Crowley’s designer trousers.

Crowley slid the small wire-rimmed glasses from his nose and took the book from his hand to discard both on the end table. Long, elegant fingers reverently caressed the angel’s face, and he lifted his gaze to the figure that hovered above him.

The glass slipped from Aziraphale’s grasp to land with a dull thud upon the rug as he was met with those arresting eyes, no longer obscured by the dark glasses. Aziraphale’s heart lurched at what he saw. Hope and despair mingled like oil and water, creating a swirling tempest of quiet desperation.

Crowley tangled his fingers in the angel’s flaxen curls and bent to claim his mouth. Aziraphale bristled before yielding to the tender kiss, melting into Crowley like the ice in his forgotten whiskey.

Aziraphale tasted rebellion on the demon’s lips. He was prepared to lay down his soul for Crowley in that moment; to pry open his ribcage so Crowley could curl up beside his frantically beating heart, where he would be safe—where he belonged.

He felt moisture on his cheek and all at once realized that the slender figure in his arms was trembling. He pressed his lips to Crowley’s forehead.

“Oh, my darling,” he breathed, without pretense, without judgment, “My darling...”

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s throat. Eons of oppression; decades of rage and pain all flowed in rivulets from his eyes to soak into the angel’s ivory cotton blazer. As he raked his fingers through the demon’s careless ginger hair, it dawned on Aziraphale, striking him like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart.

Some of Crowley’s suffering, at least, had been his doing. He did this.

Aziraphale laid a warm, heavy hand on the nape of Crowley’s neck.

“I’m sorry...” he choked, “I’m so, so sorry...”

Crowley sniffed and withdrew from Aziraphale’s arms, no longer openly weeping. He regarded the angel with eyes the color of dark honey, shot through with red—eyes set in an otherwise vacant mask.

Aziraphale cocked his head and tentatively placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, “Crowley, dear?”

The demon’s silence was deafening. He tried again to shake Crowley from his trance when his voice finally emerged from quivering lips, thready and hoarse, “Don’t go… Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Crowley. I promise.”

Then it occurred to Aziraphale that, although Crowley was looking in his general direction, his eyes were not focused on him, but rather, beyond him—beyond the brick-and-mortar walls of the Soho bookstore.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale barked. The hollow gaze snapped to his and it was all he could do not to retreat at the intensity of it, “Now, listen to me, Crowley. I am real. I am here.”

The demon searched his face and raised a hand to his cheek to trail his fingertips along the angel’s jaw line. Aziraphale covered Crowley’s hand with his own, “See?” 

His heart splintered at the thought of what he could have done to Crowley had he chosen to remain in Heaven with the Metatron… what he very nearly did…

Crowley turned Aziraphale’s hand over to trace the lines in his palm. He nipped at the thin, pale skin of his wrist. This made Aziraphale gasp, and he took the angel’s index finger between his lips. Aziraphale swallowed, barely daring to breathe and fearing what might happen if he pulled away—not that he wanted to. 

Crowley slid Aziraphale’s finger from his mouth and fixed a broken and forlorn gaze upon the nervous angel. He grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist to yank him forward and crush their lips together. A forked tongue snaked into his mouth. Aziraphale grasped at air before resting his hands on Crowley’s thighs and squeezing. The demon whimpered against his lips and his hands slid to the slender waist, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, eliciting a moan as Crowley bucked against him. He grabbed Aziraphale’s chin to pivot his head to one side and his breath swirled against the angel’s fluttering pulse, hot and quick as he licked at his throat.

He felt his groin twitch, felt the twin flames of arousal and desire flare to life within him.

No… Too fast—something isn’t right… This was not his Crowley.

Disgust, with himself, with the situation as a whole, clenched in his gut like a fist and he reluctantly snuffed them out. His convulsing fingers closed on Crowley’s biceps and shoved him away.

“I can’t... This isn’t…” he stammered between panting breaths, “I will not take advantage of you.”

The demon stared at him, uncomprehending at first, and then his face contorted into something akin to righteous indignation. Aziraphale locked his elbows as he held him at arm’s length.

He bared his teeth in a mocking grin, his tongue lolling from his mouth like a rabid dog, “Come on, Angel!” a hiss reverberated deep in his throat. There was something vulgar in the way he regarded Aziraphale from beneath dark lashes, running the tip of his tongue along sharp, needle-like teeth, “Don’t you want to make me sssscream your name?”

“Crowley, please,” he begged through unfallen tears, “Get a hold of yourself!”

The demon struggled in his grasp, his demeanor instantly shifting from lecherous to volatile, “It’s either this,” he snarled, “or you kill me.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in incredulous horror, “Crowley!”

“Your choice, Angel,” he rasped, eyes feral and glinting like light off a knife’s edge, “Fuck me or kill me—whatever you have to do before you leave me.”

Crowley froze and his jaw dropped, as though the words alone were enough to snap him out of whatever maddened frenzy had taken possession of him. He expelled a shaky breath and unfolded himself from Aziraphale’s lap, staggering backwards. He buried his face in his hands as he burned with shame and guilt; wishing he were burning for real.

“Forgive me,” his muffled sobs made Aziraphale’s heart crack even further, on the verge of shattering.

“Oh, Crowley…”

The sound of his name spoken so pitifully was like a punch to the stomach. Crowley turned his back on the angel and sank to his knees on the Oriental rug.

A cruel peal of laughter resounded in his skull, Now you’ve done it.

His thin frame shook with the sobs that wracked his body, “Forgive me.”

At least you’re finally where you belong, on your hands and knees—like the stray mongrel you are.

He groaned miserably and clawed at his ears, his hair, anything to dislodge the poisonous words from his brain.

Pathetic. You’re an embarrassment; nothing but trouble.

“You’re right,” Crowley whispered to no one; at least, no one that Aziraphale could perceive, though it was enough to get his attention.

You don’t deserve Heaven and Hell doesn’t want you.

“Who, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked softly, and then, with mounting panic when he received no answer, “Crowley, who is right?”

Crowley wrapped his hands around his head, retreating further into himself.

But you can fix this, the voice cooed, eerily gentle; you can fix the damage your wretched existence has caused. End this madness.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale begged, suddenly much closer than he remembered, “Please talk to me, my love. What is going on?” 

But the angel’s distraught pleas fell on deaf ears, overshadowed by the words that whispered across Crowley’s mind, feather-light and hypnotic. Crowley glanced up with glassy, red-rimmed eyes, “How?”   

A nearly imperceptible melodious note rang out faintly from somewhere close.

 Just wake up, Crowley.

“Crowley, what—” Aziraphale paused mid-sentence as his eyes darted around the immediate vicinity. He had heard it, too; and he knew exactly what that sound was, even if he didn’t know what it meant. 

Crowley frantically looked about, as well, his eyes finally settling on a bookshelf a few feet from where they both kneeled on the floor. Aziraphale stood and followed his gaze, and the color immediately drained from his face. Nestled between two leather-bound volumes and silhouetted against the shadows by a faint, shimmering aura, loomed a familiar tartan thermos, no more than a foot tall. He would never have guessed that such an unassuming object could be so sinister.

You know what you have to do.

“Yes…” Crowley croaked. He slowly, mechanically, rose to his feet and drew closer to the shelf as though compelled by some unseen force.

“Crowley, no!” Aziraphale grabbed him by the arm and stepped into his path, planting himself between the demon and the bookshelf, “Stop!” He demanded.

Crowley’s steps faltered, but his attention remained fixed on his target. Aziraphale gently took his face between his hands and forced Crowley to meet his eyes. He didn’t resist. Aziraphale tried not to let his expression betray his shock at his friend’s pallid countenance. Shadows had formed beneath the dull yellow eyes. Crowley looked… defeated. And tired... utterly, inconceivably tired.

“Please,” he sighed wearily, “I have to do this.”

“Do what?” he asked cautiously, “What is it that you have to do?”

He’ll try to stop you, the voice warned, don’t listen to him.

“I can’t—” Crowley visibly flinched, voice catching in his throat, “I don't belong here.”

“What do you mean?”

He fell silent again as his eyes glossed over. Aziraphale shook him, “Crowley… Crowley!”

The angel breathed a sigh of resolve and steeled himself, pressing his fingertips to Crowley’s temples. He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts, homing in on a specific area of Crowley’s mind; one he kept firmly sealed and locked up tight, like a forbidden wing in a haunted house. It might as well have had a sign that read WARNING: Condemned. No one beyond this point.

But now it would appear that the door stood slightly ajar, sending a chill down Aziraphale’s spine. As he crept closer, he thought he smelled sulfur and decay, and he became vaguely aware of a dark, foreign influence subtly forcing its way into his mind through the channel he’d opened into Crowley’s subconscious.

Cold tendrils slithered around the angel’s heart and tears pricked his eyes, suddenly overcome with a profound sense of loss and hopelessness that threatened to leech every ounce of divine strength and willpower. It was a despair the likes of which Aziraphale had never felt before.

Well. That wasn’t entirely true.

“I forgive you.”

“… Don’t bother.”

How could he be so… heartless?

Agony bloomed in his chest, briefly halting his breath, but he stood his ground.

It’s not real. It’s not real!

He clung steadfast to his singular goal of protecting Crowley, and despite every synapse in his body screaming that his endeavors were futile, he continued towards the dark room and peered inside.

As he’d suspected, there it was—huddled in a shadowy and remote nook of Crowley’s psyche, tar-black and twisted with hate. As soon as it sensed his presence, the creature unfurled, turning to cast a glare of scarlet rancor upon the intruder.

No! The entity bellowed; you’re not supposed to be here!

“You—” The angel clenched his jaw, an uncharacteristically menacing edge to his voice, “are the one that’s not supposed to be here.”

You’re too late, angel, the voice spat, Come on, Crowley! Wake up before it's too late.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” the faint light burst forth from Aziraphale’s fingers, beaming in brilliant rays from Crowley’s eyes and his body stiffened.

As the blaze subsided, Aziraphale was quick to catch Crowley when he went limp, gently easing him to the floor. An inhuman shriek echoed through the bookstore, carried on an acrid, unnatural gale that hurled books to the floor and threatened to blow the windows out.

This isn’t the end, angel. After we have taken care of him, then we will come for you.

“Go back to where you came from, you fiend,” he sneered bitterly.

He doesn’t belong here. He is one of us.

“Why, Abaddon,” came a weak, flippant quip from the vicinity of Aziraphale’s lap, “I didn’t know you cared.”

The entity hissed, This isn’t o—

“Over. Right, yeah, got it. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The spectral wind surged violently around them and blew open the door of the bookshop. Aziraphale felt the unholy presence slip out into the night, and immediately the building seemed lighter, more comfortable. Safe.

He glanced to where the thermos of holy water had previously materialized, relieved that the would-be vessel of his friend’s destruction was nowhere to be seen.

Crowley groaned beneath him, “Angel, I—” his words dissolved against Aziraphale’s demanding lips. He cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss even as Crowley scrambled to sit up, clutching at the angel’s shirt and wrapping his arms around his neck, anything to bring him closer.

When oxygen became scarce, Aziraphale reluctantly withdrew and pressed his forehead to Crowley’s as they both gasped for breath.

“How long?” the angel asked after a beat.

Crowley hung his head with remorse. Aziraphale tenderly lifted his chin, his eyes soft but persistent,

“How long?”

Heaving a tremulous breath, Crowley licked his lips and turned his attention to the dying fire.

“Since you came back… It started–at first, I thought it was my own annoying inner monologue… but, by the time I realized it was him–” 

Abaddon, demon of the Abyss. Luckily Crowley was not privy to the fury that smoldered behind the angel's passive expression, but he kept it in check. Now was not the time, “...it was too late.” Crowley's breath hitched as he shuddered, pressing both palms to his eyes.

Warm fingers circled his wrists to draw his hands away from his face.

“I was too tired to fight it,” he continued in a pained whisper, “It just became… easier… to believe that this was all…” Crowley trailed off, his voice dissolving into a mortified whimper as he shook his head, refusing to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. 

“Crowley…” he encouraged, “You must tell me. Please, darling.” 

“It was easier to believe that this was all a dream… that you weren't real, that you had—” stayed in Heaven. Crowley sniffed, dragging a hand through his hair, “that I crushed your dreams.”

The angel immediately pulled Crowley into a tight, protective embrace, “Never... I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispered into his hair.

“For what—?” 

“Leaving you in the first place... leaving you vulnerable and defenseless… I don’t know what I was thinking. This is all my fault…” 

“No—Angel—”

“I’m never leaving your side again; do you understand me?” Aziraphale declared through his tears, “Can you ever forgive me, Crowley?”

Crowley leaned back in Aziraphale’s arms to cup his face in his hands, kissing him sweetly by way of an answer. Aziraphale surged forward to capture his mouth with dizzying intensity. His hands slid over Crowley’s shoulders, down his back, and again to his chest. His fingers found the line of buttons on the front of Crowley’s black polyester shirt, and he made quick work of them. Crowley’s breath quickened and he tipped his head back as the angel bent to trail a line of fire down his neck and chest with insistent lips. 

“Ah—Zira—” he moaned softly as strong hands ran up his chest to slide the open shirt from his shoulders. 

Crowley paused, tilting Aziraphale’s chin up to look at him. Flushed and frantic, the angel raised eyes the color of uncut jade to Crowley’s fierce golden ones, recognizing the uncertainty in his expression. 

“I am real,” he whispered, “Please, let me prove it to you.” 

The demon’s face lit up with a wolfish smile, and he swiftly discarded the shirt. He leaned forward to press a hungry kiss to Aziraphale’s lips—a kiss that burned with untold desire, conveying centuries of repressed longing.

“Take me to church, Angel.”

[infernal-house-demon]

Okay, last thing for now, I swear, but I just want to share some of the media I’ve been finding inspiring for my writing lately, ranging from books, movies, art, and everything in between. So here goes…

Dead Boy Detectives (Edwin and Charles dynamic has me clawing at the walls of my enclosure. Also I have a character who is a raven which Monty might find relatable as a crow.)

Our Flag Means Death (all my stories have found family. It’s something so important to me as a queer writer. This show is everything to me.)

The Odyssey/Epic: The Musical (Epic plays on repeat in my ears. I love his take on this story and the themes really resonate with what I’m writing. I am also rereading the Odyssey because of it. I’m going to have an homage to the Polyphemus scene in an upcoming chapter)

Captain America the Winter Soldier (this one was a complete accident. One of my characters shares a lot in common with Bucky Barnes/the Winter Soldier. He and the main character have big Stucky energy. I will never outrun my mcu days.)

Good Omens (what can I say. Mutual pining for a long long time. Not 6000 years but a good amount when you consider lifespans. Best friends, seemingly opposites but perfectly compatible, maybe a tragic love confession scene oop that leads to heartbreak. My story will have a happy ending for them, we’ll see if the same happens in the show. TBD)

Lord of the Rings (I mean it’s fantasy so obviously. You cannot escape jirt’s influence in the genre. And I do love me a rallying speech in the face of slim odds. And of course the ending of trying to adjust back to a normal life after all you’ve been through. Oof.)

Game of Thrones (me and this show have a lot of beef. But the Battle of the Bastards sequence seriously influences the way I write war. It lives rent free in my head. I’ve watched the show exactly once and all these years later that scene was the reference my brain pulled for writing my first battle. Don’t even watch the show, just watch that part. It slaps.)

Dimension 20 (Brennan Lee Mulligan has been so influential on my worldbuilding. I have little homages to him throughout the story. Not to mention that when I’m stuck on describing something, I imagine I am a DM painting a picture for my players to imagine what’s happening. Yeah, D&D is such a key part of the world I crafted.)

Howl’s Moving Castle (there may or may not be a wandering house with an eccentric sorcerer living in it. Aka the mc. Unfortunately said house gets destroyed in book three. Rip.)

Poetry in general, I am currently reading Neplanta which is an anthology of queer poc poetry. (Reading poetry shifts the way I see the world. It helps me describe things better. It lets me see through other perspectives. I love poetry 😭)

There are a number of fantasy type artists I follow on Instagram that inspire me to be more creative. (A few are skelliefranky, loreleis_tavern, rayleearts, nic.tattoos, and torandil)

Anyway, that’s what I’m loving rn. Hope it introduces y’all to something new or helps you find inspiration for your creativity!

[up-in-flames-writing]

I posted 1,073 times in 2022

That's 738 more posts than 2021!

37 posts created (3%)

1,036 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@writting-in-blood

@bookerbluedragon

@treasures-and-beauty

@peashooter85

@insomniac-dot-ink

I tagged 1,072 of my posts in 2022

#reblog - 1,023 posts

#weapons - 324 posts

#swords - 209 posts

#about writing - 121 posts

#daggers - 106 posts

#writing advice - 82 posts

#writing memes - 80 posts

#writing inspiration - 78 posts

#writing meme - 63 posts

#poetry - 58 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#completely ignoring the fact hes a mentally disabled man whos struggling to make ends meet & atruggling to live with himself & all hes done

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Pride commissions

Happy Pride month, folks!

In lieu of the gayest month of the year, I'm opening up Pride commissions, cause I'm a broke queer who needs to pay for his pet rabbit! Yeah, ya heard me right! I'm opening up event commissions before my actual commissions! Isn't that great?

So, this is how this'll look:

If anyone wants a short story or fanfic with a theme of queerness (anything gay, bi, ace, trans, even polyam, literally anything queer) hit me up. All of them are a flat rate of £5 (not DOLLARS, pounds, do the math, don't skimp out) & all of them will be between 1k & 2k words.

If you want a short story, this is how it will work: Send me a private message through tumblr, with a screenshot proving you've tipped me 5 bucks through tumblr (I am not comfortable sharing my paypal account at this moment in time), as well as a synopsis of what you want me to write about. You can ask me for a number of fandoms, & I will let you know if it's something I can write for. And if you want a story featuring your characters, please link me to a few posts talking about said characters so that I can get a feel for their voice & how they act. You can also commission me for multiple stories, although be realistic please, I still have my own life to lead.

Here's also the link to my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UpInFlamesWriting

At the end of June, I will post all of the fanfic commissions at once. If you asked for an original piece, I will send that to you when it's done.

And if anyone wants to request a poetry commission (Pride-themed or otherwise), my rate is £1 per line, with a minimum of 5 lines & a maximum of 20. I will let you know how long the poem is for you to tip me, & then I will send it over.

I also do flower poetry:

This is a piece I made for a friend. For poetry of this style, I will be taking a flat rate of £15, & you can choose the type of flower you want the poem to be about, & I will expect pre-payment as with the fics. If you want a different font, do let me know & I will adjust it accordingly, but for more complex fonts I will be taking an additional £10 for a £25 total. (For transparency's sake, the flower drawing is a tracing of a picture, I didn't draw it. I traced over a digital real life picture of a flower, but I do know how to draw flowers in real life)

With that said, happy Pride everyone! Stay safe, keep fighting for your rights, & never stop being proud of who you are.

22 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#4

Slava Ukraini

I am Booker Feniks. I am a Polish writer & poet. I stand with Ukraine, & send my best wishes to everyone fighting the good fight. May the old gods watch over you all.

29 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

#3

Yo! I have a Ko-fi now! If you peeps like the work I do, please consider tipping me a coffee! Can’t say I’ll drink it, I’m more of a tea guy, but I’ll still really appreciate it!

https://ko-fi.com/upinflameswriting

40 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#2

Trans day of Visibility 2021-2022

Happy Trans Day of Visibility! I am a trans writer, & I am making myself visible with these two poems for this special day!

48 notes - Posted March 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

To preface this: I am yet to watch Our Flag Means Death, but I have read the original Good Omens novel.

And, quite frankly: I am pissed at people who are comparing the two (for good reason) & then saying that OFMD is better than Good Omens because it isn't 'queerbaiting'. That because it has explicit gay rep, it is somehow better (but, quite frankly, I've only seen that being said on twitter, luckily.)

&, sure, you can be happy about explicit gay rep & funny pirates, I'm happy about it too! But to tear down Good Omens just to uplift OFMD is a horrid, acephobic thing to do.

Yes, you've heard that right, calling Good Omens queerbaiting is ace & arophobic. Because Good Omens isn't a tale of two gay men in gay love. It is a tale of two genderless & sexless beings being in love. It is a tale that is FULL of love, without the sex or the kissing. It is a tale that I, & many others who are ace &/or aro can recognise! It is love without the romance, love without the sex, but still so explicitly LOVE, even without the markers of what the heteronormative society deems as love.

All you allos are entitled pissy brats if you think Good Omens is queerbaiting. You are so stuck up each other's asses that you can't fathom a love story not have sex or even fucking kissing! Isn't this what we used to fucking fight for? To desexualise gay sex so that stuck up, self-righteous Christian bigots stopped seeing our love as something inherently sexual? & now you dare turn around & dishonour a queer love story because it is not 'explicit' enough for you. You are all pathetic, hypocritical assholes, & I am not afraid to say it. The community doesn't stop at gays & lesbians, & the A is there for a damn good reason. Do better, or shut the fuck up.

109 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[batri-jopa]

I've been asked (hi there, @notasapleasure) to say what I think about the movie Wet Sand / სველი ქვიშა (2021, dir. Elene Naveriani) once I see it. I watched it recently and actually like to share my feelings with someone so...

My impressions follows:

Inspiration by the greatest ancient classics such as Antigone by Sophocles in modern popular culture is rare and always welcomed

Even more praise for showing love among elderly people - which somehow needs even more courage than showing young queers

I believe if the movie was more mainstream this jacket would go viral

Making the same actor saying similar text as in And Then We Danced seemed somewhat cheap to me at first, but then I thought it was kind of winking to ATWD fans: "Hello, we know you're there!" - so okey, that was kind of nice...

...and besides obvious similarity - the line still sounded different due to its intentions and conditions. So might it be condidered some kind of polemic with ATWD line even?

I really liked the way the title never was explained directly "in your face" - yet somewhere in the end you are shown a wave coming and going over the sand: leaving it wet, then slowly drying, then wet again, and again, repeatedly... And suddenly you realise how much it fitted the character's life

I wonder if the girl's comment on the photo (that was not itself shown to the audience) was a hint of that person being trans? (it was something like "beautiful as his mother" but I don't remember exactly)

The scene with the letter and the wine bottle has the potential to make me cry my eyes out everytime I think about it... (because yeah I definitely needed to elongate my "sob-on-demand" list, thank you movie makers...)

Yes of course I am going to compare Wet Sand and And Then We Danced even though such comparison can ONLY be justified by the fact that those are only two georgian movies I know and both happen to be queer

Best thing is that those are two very different and independent stories😋

I've seen some reviews complaining that in ATWD there were too many social issues at once, suggesting like it was forced or something... But it is Wet Sand that is literally overfilled with those, not only homophoby but also domestic violence and generally intolerance and prejudice toward everyone and everyone a bit different than the rest of the conservative community.

And no matter the kind of "happy ending" that was in Wet Sand and not so much in ATWD (more "open ending" it was than a "happy" one) - still to me ATWD felt a tiny bit more hopeful. Alright, the film concentrating on death and funeral obviously had no chances of being overall optimistic. Especially when ATWD was showing the point of view of joyful freeminded young people who still have hopes and chances for the better life before them. And we were not shown any really terrible scenes there, only hearing about poor Zaza, like it was just gossip and not a person of flesh and bones. Also I think when living in the capital city one may count on more support from community of people alike - simply because the community is larger and stronger than a tiny group of "outcasts" in the province can ever be.

There's a short description of Wet Sand on IMDB using a phrase "friendly people" and now after watching the movie it makes me feel sick to see it...🤢

...especially as some of the most terrifying acts of those "friendly people" so much reminded me of Aftermath / Pokłosie (2012) dir. Władysław Pasikowski...

...but still one of their most horrible actions - accidentaly turned out to be the right thing to do - so that was kind of a spark (nomen omen) of hope

So generally it was a good movie. Maybe not a great one. But definitely GOOD.

And, when I think about it, it reminds me of so many other good and great movies I know and would gladly recommend to anyone interested (most of them also being on my "sob-on-demand" list BTW)

Organising funeral of a lonely man a bit like in Still life (2013, dir. Uberto Pasolini)

A story about relationship and loss seems like a reversed version of the one shown in A Single man (2009, dir. Tom Ford) (my very favorite queer-themed movie before watching ATWD, now my second favorite)

Of course a bit of similarity to Brokeback Mountain (2005) dir. Ang Lee as well

And The Bridges of Madison County (1995) dir. Clint Eastwood too...

Departures / Okuribito (2008) dir. Yôjirô Takita is a similar not only because of the burial theme but also the atmosphere. No kidding, when watching Wet Sand I felt like watching a japanese movie, only with strangly not-japanese looking actors in it.

And that will be it for now.