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i would ride your bed and leave the yellow bark dust on your pillow
Pyracantha
Summary:
Back with the phenomenal rfsmiley for this one. This fic kicks me in the gut every time I read it.
Aziraphale's slow realization of what he must do and his acknowledgement of the simmering anger he carries are so deftly done. I think Aziraphale's anger is something we should talk about more. As a fellow person brought up in an extremely religious home the way we are always told to sublimate our anger, how it's inappropriate, how it's ugly and unladylike (for me a afab person), it's hard when you suddenly realize how fucking furious you are.
This story really feels like it should be canon and frankly i always think of it as so. Thanks as ever for the gift of your words!
title from The Cinnamon Peeler by Richard H. Harris
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MisterL, Mrs_Non_Gorilla, ThatWitchLibrarian, EffigyOfBalsa, aereona, impose_crowes, Goodwomanbadlady, Kat_Facks, MurmeringWhisper, lijahlover, rfsmiley, Snowfilly1, and Liquid_Lyrium as well as 1 guest left kudos on this work!
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