this song is amazing, I definitely feel like I'm still running on early 2000s windows sometimes 😅

fawm 2023

Sherlock claims to be an expert at putting up shelves. John gets the totally wrong idea. DIY, awkwardness and some soul-searching ensue. And some shelves are put up ...

Written by (and artwork by) khorazir, narrated by ohlooktheresabee

Read it here: archiveofourown.org/works/23953147

Putting Up Shelves (Narrated By Ohlooktheresabee)

I hope 
it’s not insensitive
to want to be done with this
it has me by my throat
I really oughta go
but I’m drawn
to the middle of
the superstition so
bleed the circle closed

make it address me by a name
that I wouldn’t give myself

it pulses because it loves us
bear witness to it
full-throated spirit
it pulses because it loves us
this is the end of the time
of our lives

it was fine, it was fine
the door darkened briefly
I was wondering if you would notice it
there was time, so much time
extending past the limits of our sight
the stone melts while we admire it
and what better way to
end unpleasant days
than to pull the curtain back and show you
how little remains to be seen?

It Pulses Because It Loves Us

There's a forest near my house and I can smell when something dies there

there is a sound
to the panic-stricken lower bound
convinced I’m pulling, 
you’re just plunging down
the backwater you have waded into
is waiting for you so it can freeze
i’m standing on the surface
so you can witness me

but I shouldn’t compare
the chill in the air
to the sound of you shivering

you will give me your attention
I know how to take from you
you think you can cast a stone and be done with me
but you don’t understand, you foolish little child
I’m here to bore a hole in your head
and I will not be calm
and I will not be reasoned with 
you’re gonna have to deal with me

a vessel seldom knows what it contains
a pickled brain, I am the dowsing rod
that’s picking up your pulse
and you can hope discerning eyes
of observant passersby
can spot the difference
but indifferent gods are
plucking you from here

you shouldn’t complain
the thoughts from the day
have a way of fogging up the air

I'm here to bore a hole in your head

You begged me 
take it to the grave
and I held my tongue
but I can not relate
I hope you resolve it
before it dissolves you

whom among us here  is being honest?
Whom among us here is being honest?
Because I can give you what you want
but you, you had better want it.

Did they found you cowering?
What a coward you must be then
you will never find me shivering
I’m wrapped wrapped in fur like a heathen
on cold night it pays
to be a beast

wrapped in fur like a heathen

Tourniquette

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

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

Suffer
From a chorus of madrigals
Sung by a choir of black tongues
By an author who thought it was permanent
Lash out because of it
Entropy happened i’m still stuck together
Glued to the faucet i’m pouring out of
Others have held their organs in better
Plowing ahead until the wheels fall off

Oh
Swallowing neologisms
The state of humanity 
Has nothing to do with me

Stagnation
Is the name of a coffin at best
A hell at the worse
to curse into carrying
To clean and dismantle my form like a rifle
Like god or somebody like him
Purpose wrung out, distended
Determined to pack every inch in
The sun didn’t come out for this
But i rose and i did
I rose i did

Oh
Swallowing neologisms
The state of humanity 
Has nothing to do with me

Black Tongues

I became fragile today
In ways I didn’t know I needed to be worried about
My body is letting its secrets out
It comes in waves
I don’t know when each one will hit
Or when I’ll go under with it
The waiting is worse than holding my breath

Fixate
On relief
The ritual
Is complete 

I hid too long
I never thought that it would get done
I saw the distance in the storm
I knew it would rain but I
Never did anything wrong did I?
My ideas
I found some paper to put them in
I’m getting over this 
Indelible twinge
Drifting out to sea
Must feel excellent 

I broke open today
In ways that I didn’t know to be careful about
My ribcage is letting my spirit out
 Once considered
A master of my whole domain
I slump to the side in order to stabilize
I favor convenience now

 Restate
Aphorisms
 Meticulous
Vision
 
I put it off
I thought eventually the work was done
I saw the atoms at the source
I knew they’d decay but
I never did anything wrong did I
My ideas
You should proceed with caution from here
I’m getting over this
Indelible twinge
Drifting out to sea
Must feel excellent

I don’t ever wanna feel bad again

I Never Did Anything Wrong

Rating: Explicit
Link to Original Text: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56068840

Summary: 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.

Down To The River

Chapter 7: One Last Chance

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

The Longest Elevator Ride

mend

In Need of Quiet Affection and Gentle Words

In Need of Quiet Affection Chapter 2

Summary:  When Sherlock accidentally drops his towel, he ends up revealing a whole lot more than he’d intended.
Rating: Explicit.

vintage machine

GUIDE DOG

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