This is like a bizarre lullaby, I adore it

god, carapace is so good. been listening to it on loop recently

Rated:  Explicit
Summary:  Aziraphale misses writing letters and starts a modern-day correspondence with Crowley by mail. Somehow, it's easier to describe their feelings in the written word, and secrets begin to spill a little more quickly than either Aziraphale or Crowley had expected.
Original Text:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/26183776/chapters/63715888
Music: Butterflies and Daisies by Thomas Parisch

To reveal my heart in ink

Chapter 10

I’m not afraid
Of the endless days,
One eye open as I float along
The surface keeping guard,
And I hope I’m wrong,
That I terrorize every eye I’m put upon,
And I wonder what it is you see,
A core beyond the pageantry.

At this point I might be
A relegated curiosity,
An oddity from your past,
Would you look at me?
“Would you look at that!”

Hoarfrost in the morning,
Surely some must die,
Freezing over overnight,
But I’ll donate my warmth and
My hands will keep you safe,
The cold will wither while we wait,
But surely some must die, 
But surely some must die,
But surely some must die,
How do they handle it? 
But surely some must die, 
But surely some must die,
How do I handle it? 

You are casting shadows with your blood,
I see them when I plunge,
If I can smell you in the ocean,
Then they can smell you in the ocean,
Eliminate the feeble consciousness
That gave me confidence to kill,
Instinct over will,
Diamond against diamond you are
Merciful, I will 
Grab you in my jaws to hold you.

I will grab you in my jaws to hold you,
But blood seeps through my jaws when I hold you.

Hoarfrost

restless enough to rattle my bones apart
the blast radius of collapsing potential 
drawn out of sequence and then put together as art
a fragment of a fragment that you can hold onto

but don’t expect my sympathy
to run dry where it should
you’ll never run aground
that devil in the distance
could use some defending

scrawled into my ribs
was a message
I never did decipher it
don’t ask me what it means
i’m still processing
i’m a vintage machine

sunlight-sent signal to body to waken up
finger along the edge of my mug with my coffee
passed through a paper to filter the solid parts out
and then thrown in the compost to rot with the other mornings

but don’t expect my energy
to maintain where it should
my eyes are heavy now
the dreams I have mentioned 
could use my attention

printed on my skull
were instructions
I never did decipher them
don’t ask me what it means
i’m still processing
i’m a vintage machine

vintage machine

it starts innocent enough
euphemistic synonyms
my advice: it’s time to toughen up
but now 
there’s admission of some guilt
and a weakness of the will
that finds you prostrate at my door

wish you had somewhere to hide that I could find

I wasted many anxious years
peering between the blinds for you
but the changing of the guards couldn’t come quickly enough
sleeping shift or albatross
I don’t remember what I was
Before this form got in the way
what I say? Clocks are ticking us down, cover is getting sparse
return  fire now

I know the middle of it all
is such a tempting time
to propose calling it off
but now
that the blood is on my hands
the Calvary demands
 a swift finishing blow

Albatross

true love will find you in the end
or at least the end will find you
and you might fall in love with that
fine-tuned images of youth
will follow you to hell and back
fueled by good intention

I hear you weeping in your bed
pipe down, we could all use the rest
tomorrow is ruthless

 and who’s fault is that?
Who let the wind steal their whisper?
who’s fault is that?
When the time, I wonder who faltered

magnanimous
has never described me less
I know that it isn’t healthy to hold on
bad analysis 
you can’t be serious
how am I supposed to work with kids’ gloves on
these hairy palms

I see the hatred in your eyes
keep them closed lest they keep me up at night
tomorrow is a fight

 and who’s fault is that?
Who wrote the wrong directions on the map?
who’s fault is that?
Who forgot which way the river’s running?

sometimes
revenge is just a lie, “just lead a decent life”
but I don’t the advisers taking their advice
try harder
clench your fist and turn your hips
you’ll land a decent punch
in time to leave your mark

"""true love"""

I hope the toll was light
You're picking at my scars
The dust occludes your face
I wonder who you are

The stage is nearly set
They're begging us to start
They'll drag us into place 
I wonder who you are

You are
The dust

My carapace is cracked
They pin us to the board
They're spreading out your wings
I wonder who you are 

A consolation prize
They're picking you apart
The fever in your eyes
I wonder who you are

I wonder who you are
The dust occludes your face
You are
The dust

Carapace

Rating: Explicit
Link to Original Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030784/chapters/71254368

Summary: The media had penned him a modern day Robin Hood. Aziraphale thought it was a rather fitting moniker, if not a little obvious. They named him so because for the last six months the wealthiest residents of Chicago had fallen victim to a touch of wealth redistribution, so to speak.
As the long arm of the barricade springs to life and lifts into the air the redhead behind the wheel turns to where Aziraphale is standing, tilts his sunglasses down and looks Aziraphale up and down with a smirk. He winks before peeling out and disappearing around the corner into traffic.
Aziraphale stares, mouth open, as the barricade slowly sinks back down at the exit. That smug fucking bastard. The radio crackles quietly on his belt and he cringes. His lungs are screaming at him. His heart thumping wildly in his chest. He drops his hands to his knees and tries to catch his breath. “Fuck.” He hears sirens approaching. “Fuck.”
 
Officer Fell is on the case of a criminal known as the Snake who seems to be implementing vigilante justice all around the city. But the bad guys aren't always what they seem. Turns out, neither are the good guys.

Protect and Serve

Protect & Serve: Chapter 6

Good Omens Podfic based on this work by whatareyou42: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49643107

The Longest Elevator Ride

I DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL (prod. CEDES)

Let It All Fall

Rating: General Audiences
Summary: Written for a Tumblr prompt by grumpybijohn: "Imagine john and sherlock going to a gay bar for a case and the bartender/manager recognizes sherlock and is all like, 'Sherlock!! I haven’t seen you in years! How are you? Is this your boyfriend?'”

Or, what happens when denial finally gets too hard to maintain.

Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307940

Carapace

GUIDE DOG

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