#what if all archangels are back and the only way to stop the shadow is to convince they need to work together

[rinienne]

I’m struggling because I have a big post season 15 supernatural plot bunny, and I can’t really write it… and I haven’t even watched season 15…

[oceanofsinners]

“They love me, they love me not.”

Yan!Pervy cupid x gn innocent succubi/incubi reader ♥︎

[mdni, or do, i don't care enough to block y'all tbh. NSFW, first time in a while writing it so apologies ack. tw/cw: mentions of violence, blood, religious stuff kinda. lmk if i have to add smth else too! also?? sorry for disappearing i got stuck in the hospital, ouchies!! also holy fuck this is 2.k words ive never wrote that much...]

Nova wasn't...normal. Well, to be fair, it wasn't their fault he was created this way. It was Father’s fault.

 

Being born a Cupid, but being unable to feel most emotions, or even love. How ridiculous. Pathetic, even. Compared to their brothers and sisters, he was useless.

 

They grew up alone and isolated, no one wanted a Cherub whose expression was always bored. No one wanted a Cherub who never wanted to play with the others or found joy in small things. 

 

He grew up in one of the few orphanages in Paradise, some human souls for foster parents who weren't able to have kids themselves, happy to have any.

 

Angels were meant to be cheerful and optimistic, they were neither. Many thought he'd grow up to be a Guardian Angel or an Archangel. 

 

Never a Cupid. Especially a Love Cupid. Maybe a Heartbreak Cupid, even Erotic Love Cupid, but Love? They didn't even truly understand what the word meant. Or so everyone thought. 

 

Angels were meant to be non-judgemental. Meant to be “kind” and believe in everyone. Angel’s are not. Angels are just as judgemental, perhaps even more than humans. 

 

The other Cupids always watched him in disdain when they were training, he always dragged their class down, being worse at it than most of the others.

 

But then, in high school, something changed. See, Angels and Demons typically don't like each other. 

 

Angels hate Demons for falling, and Demons hate the lies Angels say. But in the end, they are one and the same. 

 

Only one’s halo is broken, the other’s is perfectly fine. No, not halo, horns. If there was one thing special about Nova, it was their “halo“, or horns. 

 

They were a beautiful baby pink color that matched the pearly white hair that reached his shoulders, with pretty gold and bright pink streaks, that made their purple eyes pop. 

 

Even though Nova couldn't feel anything, he was beautiful. Freckles were made in the forms of constellations scattered over brown skin, and white eyelashes that looked like snowflakes. 

 

They were beautiful. Ethereal. An Angel, through and through. He never imagined they'd fall willingly, even hating the thought. 

 

But, maybe for one person, he would. That person is YOU. 

 

The Demons and Angels made an agreement, there was an academy built, for both Angels and Demons of all ranks and backgrounds, a sort of truce.

 

Nova was one of the angels chosen, amongst many others. They didn't care about it, just wanting it to be done already. To get the embarrassment over. 

 

Days turned into weeks of staying in the shadows, going to boring classes, eating lunch in empty classrooms, studying all night, and repeat. 

 

It was boring, but it's not like Nova had anything he could do about it. Another day of stupid school, of stupid wars between haughty Angels and Demons who liked fighting. 

 

Except this time, Nova got caught in the crossfire. Cuts covered their skin, golden blood leaking down and ruining his beautiful clothes.

 

One of the Demons had them pushed up against a wall, claws to his throat, and they stood there blank gaze. Nova raised a brow as the Demon got pushed, and went to walk away. 

 

Then YOU came. You seemed confused at the fight, trying to make peace despite it being fruitless. You paused at the sight of him, before gasping and quickly running over. 

 

“Ah, you're bleeding! Gosh, I told these dummies to stop fighting, they just don't listen!” You frowned, trying to appear upset but you just looked like a kicked puppy with a pout. 

 

You pulled them off to the side, reaching inside a black messenger back absolutely covered in cutesy stickers and pins from different bands. 

 

Nova took the time to look at you, really look at you. It was strange. Why was his heart beating so fast? Wings fluffing up? You were beautiful. One of the prettiest Demons they’d ever seen. 

 

That's what clued him into what you were, an Incubus or Succubus. Really, there was no difference between the two except for their behavior. Incubus tended to be more assertive, and Succubus more passive. 

 

Before Nova could think about anything else, you pulled a first aid kit out, opened it up, and pulled a pack of bandaids out. 

 

You started disinfecting their wounds, before putting those cute, colored bandaids on each wound.

 

Nova looks silly like this, mostly black, Gothic ensemble, even with his pastel eyes and horns, they still looked less like an Angel and more like a Demon. 

 

And there you were, broken halo turned into a pair of horns, dressed in cutesy clothes, putting brightly colored bandaids on the mean-looking Cupid. 

 

With every fleeting touch, Nova felt embers light under his skin, his cheeks warming even further. ‘...What...What is this feeling? I don't...’

 

Before Nova even realized it, they were leaning even further into your cold, almost dead touch. You paused, before giggling and roping your arms around his shoulders. 

 

“Wow! You're super friendly, I like you, your hair too, it's super duper long! What's your name?” You asked, playing with his long hair, curling it around your fingers.

 

“Casanova. But people call me Nova, usually. What's yours?” Nova looked up at you, a lovesick hazy look in his purple eyes, heart pupils. How amusing. A Cupid falling for an Incubi/Succubi. What are the odds? 

 

“Oh! Right! It's—” Before you can finish, a teacher begins herding everyone to their classes. Nova’s pissed —‘How...Why do I feel so angry?’— but goes along with it, delighted to see you wave with a sheepish grin, fangs showing. 

 

Nova doesn't know your name. But he doesn't need to. You're his angel in their mind, the one and only made for him. 

 

Very quickly you become a prominent part of his life, their parents even allowing you to stay at their house while the program goes on, happy to see their child so happy for once. 

 

With so many emotions suddenly hitting him all at once, it's no shock they fall harder than he should, becoming obsessed fast and hard. 

Nova begins realizing things they'd never realized before. The curves of your body. Those soft eyes he wants to see sobbing from pleasure. Those lips open, gasping their name—

 

But it ends far too soon. The program is forced to close, and you're gone just as fast as you came. Nova hates how empty he feels when you're gone, wondering how he ever lived without you.

 

He feels cold inside, a part of him disappearing with you. Something they can NEVER get back. He tries to be normal, smiling when he should, crying when he should, just be normal. 

 

It's easy for a while. To pretend. No, BE normal. Far too soon, or maybe far too late, he graduates high school. Then college. 

 

Years fly by, “friends” come and go, lovers he didn't give a shit about disappear after they get bored, and more and more blood then just his is on their hands. 

 

But you weren't always gone. You'd sneak out of hell and sneak onto paradise sometimes, and hang out with them. But it wasn't enough. He wanted all of your time and attention on him. Just once, they want someone to be there as a constant. 

 

Eventually he lands a job at Soulmates Corp. A Cupid work place, and he starts working. It's actually pretty simple and interesting. Sure, they don't use bow and arrows — usually. But being able to look through humans lives, to choose who they fall for. It's interesting. 

 

And then, one night, you innocently invite him to a club in hell. They instantly agree, after all, it's YOU. His angel, their savior, his LIFE LINE. Their EVERYTHING. 

 

Funnily enough, over the years the two swapped clothing styles. Nova wore more cutesy, sweet, pastel color clothes, and you wore darker, more “sexy” clothes. 

 

Nova arrived at the club, absentmindedly toying with the pockets of his pastel blue cardigan. Tonight would be the last night of your freedom - independance, after all! 

 

Nova walks in, you on his side, some of your friends accompanying the two of you. He could care less about these bastards, and soon makes sure to seperate you from your “friends”.

 

He watches you with loving eyes the entire night, making sure you get drunk so bad you can't stand. It's easy, you're too trusting. Too innocent for this world. 

 

He'll save you, just like you saved them! Eventually they take you to their place. At first it's tame. Friendly. 

 

“N—Novaaahhhh...C’mere, I hic! wanna see yer pretty faceeee...” Your voice is whiny, the alcohol really hitting you hard. Nova coos, walking over. 

 

They yelp, quite loudly, as you drag them onto the bed, curling into his side. It's innocent. His thoughts should be too. 

 

But all they can think about is your chest pressed against their arms, how easy it would be to just slip your shirt to the side, and touch. Feel.

 

He shakes his head, even if you're both drunk, he can't take advantage of you like that. They refuse to taint you, and that pretty little head of yours. 

 

Stuck in their own thoughts, Nova doesn't even realize you straddle him until it's too late. Your eyes are hazy with lust and alcohol, and he can't help but gulp nervously. 

 

“Angel, really, you...you need to sleep.” Nova tries to reason with you, but reasoning with a horny, drunk Demon, much less an Incubi or Succubi is like arguing with a wall. 

 

You whine, lips lazily smashing against his. Nova can't help but melt into it, and they hate how hard they are from just a touch, a single kiss. 

 

This is wrong. Both of you know this. Yet neither of you can stop it. One kiss turns into two, into three. 

 

“An-Angel!” Nova gasps out as you nip at his collarbone, their neck already covered in love bites and pretty blue and purple bruises. 

 

“Mmph..Wan’ more...Need more, Nova...” You growled out, one hand playing with his chest the other curled in their hair. 

 

More marks. More bites. So many. He looked so pretty like this, a crying mess under their ‘innocent’ friend. 

 

Still, he held enough restraint to stop you, not wanting to ruin your first times together. But, due to your insistence, they do give you some pleasure~

 

Nova sits on his knees, you splayed out on their silk sheets, your slick dripping onto the bed as you whined. Hips jerking up to meet his tongue, hands curled around their halo. 

 

Nova’s tongue swirls against your sex, whining from the taste of your juices against his tongue. It was better then he imagined all those nights, hand playing with their cock, desperate for some relief. 

 

With every swipe and sucking of his mouth, you get closer and closer to that sweet relief you desperately need. With one last gasp, your eyes roll back and hips buck against Nova’s mouth. 

 

Nova laps up every bit of your sweet essence, fucking you through your orgasm. He's gentle after you finish, murmuring praises into your ears as they carry you to their bathroom. 

 

During the bath you end up falling asleep, Nova carries you to bed and the two fall asleep, intangled in each other. 

 

It's morning. Your eyes flutter open, yawning softly as you groaned. Fuck, that's a horrible headache. You glance around, pausing as you feel a weight beside you. What the...

 

Your eyes glide to the person laying beside you, and you pause, your cheeks warming. Nova. You're in Nova’s bed. 

 

Nova, the Cupid boy you met as a kid. Nova, the Cupid you fell for, hard. Nova, the Cupid who always seemed so clueless and innocent. 

 

And they truly look like an Angel right now. The sun shines against against his white hair and skin beautifully, wings folded behind them. 

 

Your face feels even warmer as embarrassment fills you as you see bite marks all over their neck. Bite’s are how Demon’s mark their claim, usually on their mates. Angel’s too. 

 

He let you bite them. And yet, you can't find yourself to be mad over it. Nova’s eyes flutter open, glancing up at you. A soft smile appears on their face, as they lean up and kiss you. 

 

The Angel traps you in his wings and you giggle, curling into them. He's yours, and your his even if you don't know yet. 

 

You took their heart a long time ago. It's time he takes yours too. ♥︎

[hikarry]

Another imagine? Right after the last one? Bet your tits! Whatever do you want? It's not my fault if I feel inspired when I'm depressed.

Aziraphale was looking down on Earth. He was vaguely aware of Uriel standing behind him, but he payed her no mind. By now he was used to having her around. Ever since he came back to Heaven and it was announced he was the new Supreme Archangel, she had become his shadow. Rare were the moments when he was actually alone.

Suddenly, there was a commotion down the corridor. Loud voices and groans and...hissing?

He stepped away from the Globe, looking over his shoulder towards Uriel. She was as impassive as always.

Right. She probably didn't know anything about it either.

A door was opened brutally, and the footsteps grew closer.

Aziraphale rotated towards the noise, spine straight, hands clasped behind his back. He waited patiently, certain that whatever it was was indeed coming his way.

What he saw was absolutely not what he expected.

When the doors of the room banged open, Aziraphale was greeted by the Metraton, Michael, Sandalphon and a small army of angels. And Crowley.

The demon was rudely tossed at his feet by two angels that were previously holding him up by the arms. His hands were on his back, restricted by silver handcuffs that decidedly felt holy. From where he stood, he could see the raw red skin where the handcuffs touched him.

He was on his knees, sitting back, his head hanging forwards while his back moved erractly up and down with each quick and difficult breath he took.

Aziraphale finally peeled his eyes off the demon in front of him, slowly running his eyes through the archangels and the Metraton.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"It's been 8 years, and we have made little to no progress towards our goal." The Metraton began, voice booming. "You've been distracted, never fully focused on the greater good and we decided it was time we took care of the problem by its root."

With his chin, he pointed towards Crowley and one of the angels took a couple of steps forward and abruptly grabbed the demon by his short auburn hair, pulling it violently backwards so he was looking up at Aziraphale. Crowley hissed with the movement. His eyes were closed, but Aziraphale could now see the few black scales on his skin, two fangs peeking through his lips. The angel pulled again, and Crowley snapped his eyes open, and their eyes met. There was no sign of any white, his eyes full blown yellow. The slith barely visible. He looked wild. And tired. Aziraphale stopped breathing for a moment before moving his gaze from Crowley back to the Metraton.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. In my opinion, our plans are going quite smoothly."

"You've played enough with us and our future, Supreme Archangel." It was Sandalphon's turn to talk, apparently. His smile was sickening. "It's time you take action."

Aziraphale quickly looked back down at Crowley, before snapping back to the archangel.

"Action?"

"It's your divine duty to neutralize this demon." The Metraton opened his arms, as if in demonstration.

Behind his back, Aziraphale's closed in fists, and, for a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence. The only noise was Crowley's still labored breathing.

Before he could answer, the Metraton waved his hand and a violent pain took over his head, making him stagger backwards, both hands on each side of his face. His veins were lava hot. The sounds of his heart beating overtaking anything else. His mind felt like it was about to explode and implode at the same time. His lungs were sent into overdrive and he staggered back a few more steps, with his eyes closed. A hand was placed on his back, stopping him from moving.

When Aziraphale opened his eyes again, his vision was swimming. The borders of his gaze were unfocused and dark, white speckles flying around. He tried to focus on anyone, but the faces were all blurred. Out of his control, his hand swung down and he felt something heavy materialize on his hand, but he couldn't tell what it was.

Everything is alright, Aziraphale.

A voice that sounded weirdly like the Almighty flooded his head, and he felt his corporation start to tremble.

It has to be done.

What had to be done? He was so so confused. His head hurt so much. But this voice felt so warm. So comforting. Yet terrifying.

It is my wish.

What wish? What was She talking about?

Heavy breathing took over his senses, but it wasn't his own. It had too much underlying hissing to be his.

Crowley.

Crowley was here, in Heaven.

They wanted him to kill Crowley.

The Almighty wanted him to kill Crowley?

His heart banged against his ribcage, some feeling he hadn't felt in a while trying to fight the pain he was currently under.

Aziraphale tried to take another step back, away from Crowley, but the hand on his back stopped him and actually pushed him forward this time.

He hadn't noticed closing his eyes again, but now they were back open, and his gaze fixed itself on Crowley's face. He was still looking up at him, the angel still grabbing him by the hair. His breathing was still everything he could hear, echoing inside his head. His eyes still looked a mix of tired and wild, but now there was something else. Something else Aziraphale couldn't quite place.

No. Absolutely not. Out of the question. Ask him for anything but that. Hell, ask him to close all his eyes and stop spinning, and he will. But not this. Never this.

Someone was talking, but it sounded like they were underwater. Aziraphale couldn't understand a single word, but it made Crowley take his eyes away from him and look to the side, ever without moving his head, a snarl on his face. He tried to push to his feet, but the angel behind him stepped on his leg and forced him back down, twisting the strands in his hand.

"No." Aziraphale tried to say, but he wasn't sure the sound actually came out of his mouth. It must have because now Crowley's gaze was on him again. And so was Metraton's and everyone else's.

There was another spike of pain in his head that pushed him to drop to his knees. He heard Crowley's voice. It was clearly Crowley's voice. But he didn't understand what he was saying for as much as he forced himself to hear.

With his free hand on his head, with a vice grip on his own curls, he tried to regain control of himself, but it was like swimming against the tide. A very heavy and fast tide, at that.

With a groan, he pushed himself up to his feet once again, his legs almost failing below him.

Tell me you said no.

Crowley's voice.

You can't leave this bookshop.

Aziraphale took a sharp breath when he felt his heart ache. Was this what a heart attack felt like? He was in Heaven. He was an angel. He couldn't possibly have a heart attack, could he?

Stop.

The pain had to stop.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I understand a whole lot better than you do.

Right. Crowley. He was in Heaven. He had to take him away from here. Away from him. Back to Earth. To safety.

He pried his eyes open, but before he could focus on anything, his vision tilted sideways, going momentarily dark.

It's my wish.

No nightingales.

Both voices flooded him at the same time, making both his head and his heart soar with knife sharp pain.

His vision came back and he quickly looked around, taking as much as he could.

The Archangels and angels seemed considerably farther away than before. The Metraton, Crowley, and the angel holding him down remained in the same place.

Aziraphale!

It was a single word, but two different voices were saying it.

The Almighty and Crowley.

Crowley.

Aziraphale's gaze fell upon the demon again. He was still staring back up at him, but the wildness on his eyes was gone. Instead, he looked scared. Worried. It was hard to read or think with his heartbeat reverberating through his head like a church bell.

He tempted you.

The Almighty talked again in his mind.

Don't let yourself Fall, Aziraphale.

Fear ran through his heart.

He wasn't Falling. Crowley would never let him Fall. He would never do anything to make him Fall.

Crowley was his best friend.

He is the Serpent of Eden.

He's Crowley.

He is the Original Tempter.

He's Crowley. Just Crowley. He had always just been Crowley. Wild, impulsive, ridiculous, caring Crowley. But just Crowley.

He's a demon.

I lied.

The Almighty's voice morphs into Crowley's. But it was all inside his head. He was looking at Crowley. His lips were parted, but only to help his breathing. He wasn't talking.

He's a demon. He lies.

He himself had told him that many centuries ago.

No nightingales.

That was a lie. There was nightingales. There had always been. Aziraphale was just a coward.

A sob climbs up his throat, but refuses to come out.

A warm sensation took his right hand as the Metraton said something he couldn't quite understand because of the whole underwater sensation. The angel holding Crowley finally let go and joined the other angels.

"Get out of here." Aziraphale heard himself say, almost begging.

Crowley got up to his feet, swaying for a moment before finding his balance once again. His mouth moved at the same time as the Metraton's, but Aziraphale heard neither.

The demon turned around, fangs bared, keeping himself between Aziraphale and the Metraton.

"Get out of here." Aziraphale repeated, and Crowley swung around, facing him once again.

Suddenly, the demon was just a few feet away from him and oh. That scent. He hadn't felt it in a long time, but it was unforgettable. Cinnamon and the earth after a storm. A forest fire and sandalwood.

Aziraphale's head throbbed again and his eyes rolled back on his sockets involuntary, pulling a whine out of his throat.

He's a demon.

He's a demon.

He's the enemy, Aziraphale.

Enemy. Demon.

He's evil.

Evil.

Life will never take its course while he is breathing. The Earth will never be avenged while he stands.

"Aziraphale."

Crowley's voice pulled him back to the present like the snap of an elastic.

He's a threat.

Shut up.

And threats must be neutralized.

Shut up.

He tempted the humans. He tempted you.

"Angel?" Crowley's voice was so soft. When was the last time he had heard it that soft? That vulnerable?

The demon Crowley wasn't soft. Or vulnerable. He was the Serpent of Eden. The Enemy. And he was standing right in front of him. Yellow on the blue. Or was it purple?

You're my soldier, Aziraphale.

Aziraphale could see something like a purple tint on Crowley's face.

Purple.

He was the Supreme Archangel of all Heaven.

He was the Almighty's soldier.

The angel lifted his hand, the flaming sword now between them. He could almost see the flames licking at Crowley's neck.

Aziraphale watched as Crowley swallowed, ever without taking his gaze away from the Archangel's. And then he smiled.

His outstretched hand wavered, the sword with it.

"It's your duty, Aziraphale." The Metraton's voice boomed once again, and his vision tilted one more time.

Out of his control, he felt his body moving forward, the tip of his sword touching something sturdy. Trying to think was like moving through molasses, and he couldn't see anything. Something cold fell from his eyes. His whole body was trembling, fighting against whatever was taking charge at the moment because it was not him. It couldn't possibly be him.

Crowley is the Serpent of Eden.

I am the Supreme Archangel.

"Aziraphale."

Something pushed back against the sword.

I am the Almighty's soldier.

Nothing lasts forever.

"Angel, please... Just look at me." Crowley sounded so defeated. So wrong.

Aziraphale wouldn't stand for that. Not again.

His vision came back as the sword clanged to the floor. His arm was still outstretched, shaking between them.

His heartbeat took control of all his senses once again, and time now seemed to be running through molasses itself.

You're the Supreme Archangel.

The Almighty's voice sounded wrong too. Now that he took a moment to notice, it barely sounded like the Almighty at all.

Yes, I am.

Aziraphale waved his hand and the Archangels and the angels were tossed against the wall in a violent gust of wind.

"Aziraphale!" The Metraton was walking closer, quite clearly upset. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the handcuffs fell off Crowley's wrists before he closed the space between them and grabbed the demon by the jacket, pushing him to stand behind him. With another wave of his hand, another sudden gust of wind came to life, but the Metraton snapped his fingers, and it died down. The sword materialized on his hand once more while his wings appeared from the pocket dimension onto his back, covering Crowley.

"This is enough. Let him leave." The angel said, brandishing his sword towards the Metraton. "I will stay. I will follow the plans we were working on. But let him leave."

"Aziraphale-" Crowley talked, his hands resting on Aziraphale's hips, but he was cut by the Metraton.

"He is the enemy, Aziraphale! Not us! We are your family!" He was fuming. "You can't disobey the Almighty! It is her wish!"

"Is it?" Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow. "The Almighty hasn't talked to anyone in Millennia. Not to me. Certainly not to you. You have no idea what the Almighty truly wants, do you? No one does! Remember the Apocalypse? Everyone thought that was the Great Plan, and yet Earth is still here. I'm still here." The sword started flaming. "I advise you to let him leave."

"Aziraphale," Crowley's hands squeezed his hips, and the angel felt the demon's body leaning against his back. "You can't stay here."

"Crowley-"

"It has been 8 bloody years. With no notes. No news." His fingers dug into Aziraphale's flesh. "Come home." Aziraphale swallowed.

"You can't leave. You're the Supreme Archangel!"

It took a couple of moments for Aziraphale to regain his bearing. With Crowley's hands on him and feeling his warm breath on the back of his neck after all this time, it was almost as difficult to think as before. He shook himself, taking a deep breath, and finally answered:

"By title, yes. But did I ever really have the power?" The Metraton stopped moving. "I'm not as naive as you think I am. The only reason I accepted this position was to keep Crowley safe. And because of the Second Coming. But I didn't believe whatever lies you tried to lay on me these past years for a single second." He smiled. "I never had any chance, did I? I was never in command of anything at all. I was merely your puppet. You were just trying to keep me far away from Earth. From Crowley. Because you are afraid of what we can do together. Of us stopping the Second Coming."

The Metraton opened his mouth to talk, but Aziraphale, taking the chance, waved his hand, and the Metraton was tossed against the far wall. Quickly, he held Crowley by the arm and pulled him, running out of the room and through the corridors of Heaven in the direction of the lift.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley pulled on his hand. "Aziraphale, wait!" He did stop, looking around quickly to check if there were any angels around, but they were by themselves.

Aziraphale let go of his arm, turning to fully face him.

"I'm so sorry, my dear. I'm afraid I rather made a mess of things." He took a deep breath, looking around once more, before continuing: "I've been trying to stop the Second Coming for the past 8 years, but, honestly, all I've been doing is stalling. They would start it sooner or later and I had no idea how to stop it other than to delay it." He looked up at Crowley. His eyes were still full yellow. "But I'm sure we can think of something. Together... That is, if you will have me. I'm aware we-"

"Aziraphale-"

"-didn't quite leave things-"

"Aziraphale-"

"-in the best of terms but-"

"Angel!" Aziraphale's mouth snapped close. With a sigh, Crowley closes the distance between them, placing his cold hands on Aziraphale's cheeks. "I missed you."

Just then the angel realized how truly tense he was, allowing his muscles to melt under Crowley's gaze. They stayed in silence staring at each other for a moment. Two. Until Aziraphale put his hands on each side of Crowley's face. The demon opened his mouth so say something but Aziraphale crashed his lips against his.

Crowley remained rigid for a while, not reciprocating and Aziraphale quickly started regretting it.

Right.

8 years had passed by.

8 years without seeing each other. Without news on his part.

He couldn't really expect Crowley's feelings to remain the same. Not after he rejected him the last time they saw each other. Not after the way Aziraphale had hurt him.

The angel was about to move away when Crowley's hands came up to the back of his head, and he pulled him closer, his mouth opening under his.

It's like Heaven itself went quiet around him. Around them.

Or so it did, for like 10 seconds, when they heard shouting from somewhere behind them. Both pulled away, looking behind Crowley to check if someone was coming, before Aziraphale held his hand again and off again they went, running towards the lift.

They only stopped when they were finally inside the damned lift and Crowley pushed the Earth button.

Both leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily.

"We have..." Crowley took a deep breath, trying to regain control of his lungs. "...to stop kissing in dire circumstances."

Aziraphale chuckled.

"Quite."

"You do realize you have a gigantic target on your back, right? The Metraton is not just going to drop it."

"We'll think of something...Crowley?"

"Hmm?"

Aziraphale reached out for his hand one more time.

"8 years ago, last time we saw each other-"

"Oh, I haven't forgiven you about that."

"...what?"

He smiled down at the angel.

"We will stop the Second Coming, but I'll be down right insufferable the whole time."

"Crowley!"

[allastoredeer]

Archangel anon again! Here for those extended Gabriel headcanons. Okay! Gabriel's the messenger of heaven, so i imagine that it's his's responsibility to convey messages between heaven and hell. That makes Gabe the only sibling Lucifer has been allowed to have simi-consistent contact with since his fall. They're not allowed to have long, deep conversations, but they do try to catch up a tiny bit. I see Gabe as a trickster with a heart of gold. Seemingly a charismatic goofball who takes very little seriously. A fast-talking, smooth-talking, ALWAYS talking jokester who can make you want to tear your hair out one second, then charm the pants off you the next. He's the best liar of the family, incredibly good at playing dumb despite actually being quite cunning, strategic, and above all else, PETTY. He is very protective of his siblings, especially Lucifer nowadays (side-effect of being the only sibling allowed to talk to him) and can hold a grudge like no ones business.

But, the main reason I wanted to give special attention to Gabe is because of his patronage. As I was doing research on Gabriel I made a delightful discovery ripe with potential. Remember how I said Gabriel is the patron of communication services? Well another way to phrase it would be he holds patronage over all forms of transmitting information from point A to point B. This includes telecommunications that transmit information through electrical means. Such as telegraph, telephone, internet, and broadcasting. ALL forms of broadcasting. Including both television AND RADIO.😃😃😃

Do you see? Do you see the abundance of potential that I see?? Gabriel is the Patron Archangel of both TV AND RADIO. He holds dominion over

TV AND RADIO

I cannot begin to describe the joy I felt when I made that discovery! Instantly got the brain buzzing.

Alastor and Gabriel have the capacity for either becoming instant best friends or instant enemies and I can't decide which one I like more... Oh who am I kidding, it's enemies. Imagine Gabriel is visiting Lucifer and Charlie and he inevitably buts heads with Alastor. Either Alastor says something snide about Gabe himself, or maybe Lucifer. Meanwhile, Gabe has gone uncharacteristically quiet and just stares at Al for a long moment. Then, an unreadable smile slowly forms on his face and he laughs good-naturedly, slapping Alastor on the back a BIT too hard but otherwise just says "You got me there, buddy" before sauntering away.

But the next morning, Alastor tries to enter his radio tower to do his morning show, only to find the door is locked tight and there's some kind of powerful ward keeping him from shadow-porting in. Then, every radio in hell suddenly comes alive as none other than Gabriel's loud, bombastic voice comes pouring enthusiastically from the speakers.

Gabriel has redefined the term "pirate radio" by not only hijacking Alastor's radio tower, but also literally every radio in hell. And worse, he's turned Al's show into one of those "zany" morning-zoo radio shows. The kind of shows thar are more annoying than funny that always play on the radio on your way to work or school? I imagine Alastor considers those shows a perversion of his medium. And as the cherry on top, Gabe refuses to relinquish control back to Alastor calls in (the number is 1 777 3625, that's 1 777 DMBK🤭) and apologizes ON AIR for all of hell to hear.🤣🤣🤣

You know what, I'm kind of with Alastor on this one.

If someone messed with my passion like that, I would never apologize. I would double down. I'd never stop pushing those buttons, consequences be damned. You want me to say sorry? Nah, bitch, how about you stop being a wuss?

LOL I think Alastor would take a megaphone, plop himself on a rooftop (or just roam the streets) and do his broadcast like that. He'd find himself a soapbox to stand on. You know, the old fashioned way. I mean, depending on if Alastor can control radiowaves, he might be able to hijack one of the speakers he set up all over Hell. He'd pick a new one every day, and diss on ol' Gabe. He'd go into how Heaven keeps repressing the sinners of Hell, first it was the Extermination, and now Heaven's silencing their voices. When will the tyranny end? How long will they put up with this??

LOL Idk now that I'm thinking about it, the idea of Alastor starting a revolution against Heaven purely out of spite is incredibly funny and I love it.

(Also that is really interesting about Gabriel patron of communication 👀 that has so much potential)

[tmwcs]

S E 7 E N : R E CK O N I N G P A R T 2 W O

WARNINGS: Demonic imagery in this one, mentions of angels killing off humans, battles between archangels and angels, shapeshifting, not so much gore but some action and thrilling scenes. i think that's it. nothing too extreme. As usual....not proofread...but good visual imagery in this one!

All the gifs were found on google, i know some of them belong to the blog Heeseunq <- click. A couple of them I found on google but could not open up the page, so i can't link their blog. If you are or know of the owner, please let me know so i can credit them. Enjoy!

You remained kneeling as you watched each metallic figures closing in. Trembling, you reminded yourself to breath steady as your eyes, despite being glossy, remained emotionless.

‘Just….get this over with….kill me now….I am afraid….but not of you…..I don’t know if I’m even afraid of the pain that will be inflicted on my body….since I can’t escape it…I’ve accepted it.….however, what I am afraid of…..is the future of my family…the innocent people under the brutality of this corrupt cult….this government that caters to them…….Mom…Dad……please take care…..I love you….’

A few hundred feet away, they took their pounding steps, one by one, coming closer….yet they didn’t move fast enough. It was as if they were purposely moving at a slowed pace to further the dreadful feeling in your chest….

You were forced to look forward to your demise….they prolonged it…

“All who bear witness! Watch as God’s angels shall cleanse the world of sin by ridding us the witch who has plagued our holy city!” Forras yells out from atop of the high balcony.

With the loud screech of the humanoid figures that inched their way to you, you lost all sense of hope. Shutting your eyes, you cradle your breast and began to pray internally, as your line of murderers were effortlessly making their way to the platformed stage that you sat atop on. The sound of their footsteps became louder as they merged towards the platform where your body was stationed, restrained in between the two holy statues. Each step they took sounded like a metal clunk as their feet meets the pavement…

*Clunk*

‘God��..I know I’ve never been one to pray or reach out….’

*Clunk*

‘Please know…that I am not praying to you for safety or mercy…’

*clunk*

‘I never lived my life in fear….yet I know I’ve lived within the boundaries of right versus wrong…’

*Clunk*

‘I could never have imagined going down like this…..but if I have to, just please…if you hear me….please hold those accountable for the wrongful deaths of all before me….people like those men…women…and those children….people like Lily….’

*Clunk*

‘Will you watch over my family?......let them know how much I loved them….protect them…along with all of those that are confused or ridden with fear….’

*Clunk-clunk*

‘I know I’ve never been one to strongly preach your name or follow your ways….but I also know I am not an evil person….’

*Clunk-clunk*

‘If these really are your creations….if you are aware and bless what they’re doing…..please….the only mercy I ask of you as these creatures close in….they’re coming in close as I reach out to you….’

*clunk-clunk-clunk*

‘Have mercy on the people and be unforgiving to those who destroyed lives…..I believe in you….’

*Clunk-clunk-clunk*

‘In your name…Amen.’

*Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk*

‘Mom….dad…..goodbye……..’

……………………………….

Amidst the clunks of each step, voices among the crowd yells out in gasping notion.

“Oh my God look over there! Something just dropped from the sky!”

“What is that? Is that......OH MY GOD!!! it’s an angel!”

The clunks have stopped….you opened your eyes, and slightly raise your head. Turning it to the side, you saw the form of a shadowed figure kneeling….gray feathered wings mixed with a pastel of dark charcoal black mixed in adorns its back. Much like the wings of the metallic figures, yet the smokey gray appeared much lighter in hue. Thinking back when the events of the creatures began killing off the people that were selected, you had always wondered how they could have been called angels. Was it only merely because they adorned those smokey wings? Even though, the figure off to the side of the platform, adorned the same pair, he was much darker….yet…..seemed more Heavenly.

…………

Rising up slowly, he takes on a standing posture as he emerges from the shadows of the taller buildings that hovered nearby.

Removing the hood of his cloak, you gazed on the familiar face that reassured you with a look of softness, right before he glares at the leading figure that marched the remaining creatures towards your execution.

‘….Niki….’

Take me down to the river bend Take me down to the fighting end Wash the poison from off my skin Show me how to be whole again

“Look over there! There’s another one!!”

Another voice pierces the stagnant air as the people all point and gasped.

You turn your head to look over to the opposite side and watched as another cloaked figure, adorned with wings of the same color as Niki, makes its way out from the alley way nearby. With narrowed eyes towards the row of monsters that contained every means to bring you harm, he spoke with his piercing eyes as he flared his warning stare at them.

............

‘Sunoo….’

Fly me up on a silver wing Past the black where the sirens sing Warm me up in a nova's glow And drop me down to the dream below

A series of gasps and shouts emerge once more when a sudden whoosh could be heard.

Feeling the breeze graze your skin and moving your hair, you shift your face once more to view the scene directly in front of you. Landing on a combative kneeling position, in between you and the murderous creatures, he flares his wings in full display as he raises his head and pierces his dark gaze to the shiny figures ahead. Though you only had the view of his backside and the glory of his smokey-dark wings, you recognized him and felt a sense of comfort upon seeing the three brothers.

‘…Jay…..’

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see For you to see

Parallel to Jay’s frame, the leading figure screeches out an offensive tone as it pierces the ear drums of each man, woman, and child nearby that stood to watch your execution.

Furrowing his brows, Jay merely stands as he glares at the figure displaying its warcry.

Raising its arms as it morphs each limb into terrifying weapons of motorized blades and saws, it leans in and lunges, yet the very moment it took its first step, a swarm of insect’s rushes in. In a blink of an eye, the swarm scoops the figure and suspends it in the air, thrashing its body into nothing as it loses the luster of its metallic form.

The crowed is left speechless but not without gasps and screams as they scurry into nearby buildings and establishments to hide from the scene. Peering through windows and glass doors, they all continue to watch as Jay’s insects finish off the creature in mid-air.

Bring me home in a blinding dream Through the secrets that I have seen Wash the sorrow from off my skin And show me how to be whole again

Witnessing the brutality as Jay kills off the lead figure, the remaining metallic creatures all screech out their war cries as they leap and lunge forward, all taking in the same initiative as the last by morphing their extremities into massive blades.

You watched, as Sunoo raises his hand and with his ultimate power, a group of metallic angels froze in place. Shifting and jolting into crinkled motions, their hearts explode from the inside and out.

Sensing their numbers shrinking, a row of the angels screech out into the open sky. Directing their tone to the clouds that hovered above, it appeared to be as if they were….

‘Calling….’

“Senator! Look!”

One of the regulators points out as you and the brothers all witness the mass numbers of angels descending from the sky, all responding to the calls of their brethren as they come to the aid of the ones who had yet to be slain by the princely brothers.

You watched as a pair swoop in, aiming towards Jay and Sunoo, when suddenly a pair of strong hands emerge out and grabs them both by their necks.

Smashing the figures together, only bits and pieces of the metallic shrapnel remained, falling onto the pavement.

Revealing his face as the cloak drapes back at his nape, he clicks his tongue as he approaches a group that breach his presence. With both his hands, he expels the power of strength and unleashes Hell in the form of his wrath….

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see For you to see

You viewed from the heightened platform as each brother took on multiple angels at a time, slaying them with ease as they used both brute force and their powers.

*Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk!*

Hearing the fast-paced footsteps of an angel heading your way, you turned your face as you remained hugging onto your chest with tightly crossed arms, bracing yourself for the creature to slash you into bits….

The thunderous sound swooped through your ears as a large gust of a familiar force sends the strands of your hair flying. Hearing the roar of the one that caused it, you recognized that sound...that vibration…that monstrous and yet mystical growl that shook the earth to its very core….

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms embraces you, sealing in the warmth and comfort of protection and reassurance. Lifting your head, you gaze on the side profile of the one who caresses your body. That blonde hair…those sleight blue eyes….that indiscriminate tongue as he licks his lips and softly chuckles while he whispers “Good girl, Layla.”

As he maintains his hold on you, cradling you to his chest, Niki steps in front and with a swift motion of his hand, he grips the air with an empty fist. You watched as a line of angels that breached the platform, all were ridden with slurred movements. As they moved in slowed motion, the ravishes of time takes an excruciating toll as each second affected them as they rotted to the core. Crouching and slowly withering away, they succumb into a sloth like state, turning into ash as they disintegrate.

Backing up, the angels all group together as they merge into a double-row force. The row in front, morphs into an offensive shield that extends from one end of the city to the other, while the row behind remained with extended blades yet the main form of their bodies morph into something more monstrous as they lose their humanoid structure and take on a more reptilian form. The wall develops rotary blades, much like a meat grinder, with the assault row behind, they march, pushing forward in formation.

Migrating towards you, the brothers, and all who stood in their way, you watched in horror as the metallic line had every intention of running you all over and grinding you down into bits and pieces, similar to hamburger meat.

Yet you remained without fear. Watching as each brother stood before you in one straight line, standing in the center, was Jungwon.

Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything else I need to be

'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass Hardly anything there for you to see

All six brothers stood by one another in a single row, displaying magnificent valor as they adorn their black attire and dark smokey wings.

Up until this moment, you thought you had witnessed the full extent of each brother’s talent as they had displayed their powers before you earlier. However, as they presented themselves combatively, facing the offensive row of the screeching metallic creatures, you watched in awe as you witness the transformation of the six Princes, each one taking on the form of something dark yet glorified in ancient wonder.

.............

“You fools….go ahead and flare your diamonds, gems, silver and gold…

For I will bestow upon you, the tales of the old.  

The sickness of GREED infects you; your selfishness follows suit. 

Stemming from the moment, you consumed the forbidden fruit. 

You yearn for money and treasure…

the sparkle of a virgin’s pleasure. 

Until you raise high, far, wide, and reaching Heaven’s height.

I watch as you strip the innocent, of their rightful birthright. 

So witness as I, Mammon, Prince of Greed, The Golden Demon and Treasurer of Hell...

Will turn your flesh into silver and gold, forever marking my story to tell.”  

 

.................

“I do pray…that ye have ol faith.

For that someday your soul shall be only, for ye Lord to take.

Yet if it comes to pass,

that ye shall commit his crimes against the innocent, youth, and virgin daughters…

Know that I, Beezlebub, Prince of Demons, Lord of the Flies,

shall cast the demons and bring forth your rightful slaughter. “

....................

"Take heed, ol’ mortal being.

For the enemy is within your own, and not at all within me.

Your neighbor kills, your sister lies,

Your kindred friend looks at you with two-toned eyes.

They speak with double tongues, split down the middle.

One speaks fondly, while the other tarnishes your name in a separate riddle.

They preach you through, with lightness on display,

Yet when all is said and done, behind ye back, deadly games will be played.

As you live in bliss, your years without regret,

So shall the be the one, who takes your life with hidden threat.

Take heed, ol’ mortal being, as I, Leviathan, The Prince of Envy, Great Serpent of the Sea, Devourer of Ships, and The Marquis of Snakes,

Will issue you this warning, to either leave or take."

.....................

"With your hearts darkened, your soul grows dim.

You commit to murder and lies, supposedly for the sake of him.

The sacred scriptures, that sustains ye WRATH,

Paints the fallen angels to eternally burn you within their grasp.

Ye force the people to cower in fear,

Using thy name, in which you smear.

Wait as the time comes, when you are rightfully sentenced,

That I, Satan, King of Wrath, The Roaring Lion, and Ruler of Lies,

Will devour your souls, as ye scream, with repentance."

.......................

"In the abyss of your hearts, your crown, and your wandering soul,

The impurities of your weakened mind, takes on its toll.

Though you were free to choose, evil versus good,

I watch as you strip and taint virgin flesh, from whence they stood.

You yearn for the waves and motions,

The screams of pleasure…

To your own advantage,

you reach limits beyond your measure.

As you relish in the forbidden desires of the Sin City,

Succumb to the depths where I, Asmodeus, King of Sodom, Lord of the Nine,

shall pierce your flesh without any pity."

...................

"You waste away, no matter clean or filth.

The gluttony of your entitlement takes form in guilt.

Through your lies, defects, and ugly masks of deceit,

You take all the rewards while you lay, as the ground never meets your feet.

Your hands polished, your skin left without callous,

you preach of bravery, yet your character is nothing but cowardice.

You become the sloth, a monster of lethargy, the most selfish among pricks.

Remain still as you were, for I, Belphegor, The Lord of Discovery, The Ruling Defector, will submerge your soul, in the River Styx."

The terrifying screams and warnings of the crowd stained the air as they hid themselves deep within every crevice in the city. Senator Forras and his regulators all watch from atop the high building, panic ridding them of all other expressions as they shouted from above, cursing your name.

Despite how much power he had gained within the city, knowing the truth of how he coordinated with the angels to doom the randomly selected, there you were….heavily protected and fought for.

Even though you carried the fragile appearance of a chained angel, kneeling as you cover yourself in a cradling position, delicate and breakable as any other person around, you were emerging victorious against the corrupt and gluttonous authorities that ruled the country. All because you were behind the guard of the most powerful beings in the universe…something Forras or his cult members didn’t’ have…and never will.

Yet you couldn’t deem yourself as the victor…not just yet. Because the moment that the six Princes shifted forms, revealing their demonic entities, the angels took on a different stance in their offensive line as they all communicated with one another. With their bodies shifting from side to side, in sync, they let out a vibrating cry into the sky, much like they did earlier. However, there was something different in the tone that they screamed out, it was ritualistic, and it came out in a calling beat.

The sun was setting, yet its light was still illuminating the city….that was, until the cries of each angel beckoned upon a greater…much larger force from above.

A giant shadow casts over the city grounds, causing everything to grow dim.

Looking up, you take notice of all the birds, they were migrating far and away from the premises. Shifting your gaze, you watched as each brother, while adorning their beastly exposed forms, all look up as they took in the sight of something that seemed to be much more powerful than the generic angels they were battling with.

Looking up, you watch as a large, shadowed figure emerges from the clouds in the sky, coming out of the mist as it towered over the tallest building. With each step it took, the earth rumbled as the bricks and beams of the city’s infrastructure falters from it’s mighty presence.  

‘…..What is that?’

The figure fully exposes itself as it draws nearer. It looked nothing like the angels that plagued the population, yet it was evident that this gigantic entity was associated with the silver metallic beings as you watched all of them levitate, flying towards the towering figure and encircling it, creating a defensive barrier around its structure.....the lore of shadows and all things that was considered evil...more so than the Devil, at least...in your eyes...he was.

You, as well as the entire population, only knew of the angels that frequented the mortal realm as they killed off the selectees every seven days. How strange that one of them would be different from the rest.

‘Is it God?.....What is it?’

Suddenly, Forras' voice could be overheard as he shouts out with a horrifying sense of excitement in his tone.

“You demons! Monsters and beasts from Hell! You and that whore cannot withstand he ultimate power of God’s greatest angel! He will destroy you much like he will send his angels to finish the job in cleansing the world and ridding it of the filth that plagues it, once and for all! Behold the archangel, Jol!”

Shuttering at the last bit of his words, you recalled the history lesson that Niki shared with you in regards to Heeseung, God, the creation of people….and the archangel that secretly despised the concept in the creation of people, and was conspiring against God to destroy them…along with Heeseung…..yet the latter had changed, and according to the brothers, it was due to you, yet you had no idea as to how.

The world came to a standstill, as you and each of the six princes watch the large form let out a powerful scream.

For a moment….you truly felt fearful, even after accepting death through the tortuous manner that the angels were prepared to relinquish on you, only to be saved and guarded by the six brothers.

Yet, all hope seemed lost, even with the each prince present, faithfully by your side as they catered around the base of the platform, preparing to fight off the archangel, all for the sake of your safety.

“I beseech you! Archangel Jol! Kill off these monsters and destroy that woman who has offended God and your ultimate power!”

Forras’s words echo throughout the city, bouncing off every building as it makes its way to the ears of the monster above.

Shifting their stances, the brothers heed the outspoken words of the Senator, and nearly took flight when the sudden shrilling scream of the towering monster was let out.

It gazed off to the side, and shrilled out once more, as if it was displeased over something. Looking over to the far end of the city, you observed how each Prince shifted their gaze in the same direction.

“Senator! Over there!”

The moment the regulator spoke out, you noticed another shadow casting over the city, however, it didn’t just dim the entire land as the archangel had done with his enormous stature. For a moment, just a split second, the entire city turned dark, pitch black even.

As they spread out in mid-flight, you squinted your eyes as you observed closely at what was coating the sky and ridding the city every bit of its light…

‘….Bats?....’

Another schilling scream emerges from the archangel, it caused your ear drums to become static with the vibrations that punctured through the drum. It was painfully loud, and you had wondered why as you shifted your gaze in the direction it was looking at.

............

From afar, you watched the familiar figure making his way over. With delicate steps, he calmly makes his way as the bats all surround the city, creating a dark ring to formulate.

You watched as he dawns his all-black apparel, taking each step in a suave manner as one hand is loosely tucked into one of his trouser pockets, while the other drapes low to his side, slightly swaying as he moved. His hair wasn’t the silver ash color as you remembered, instead, it was jet black, yet one unique feature remained that was a dead giveaway in letting you know just who it was that was approaching…

‘That lace mask…its him....he’s here…’

Each brother, while remaining in their powerful and intimidating demonic forms, all render absolute respect as they kneel and bow in the direction of the figure breaching the center of the city.

“Who is that?” The Senator inquires with his regulators, yet none of them could acknowledge the man’s identity as they never saw him before.

His face remains a mystery. A subtle side smirk births from the corner of his mouth as he looks ahead and sees you…

He sees you.

How beautiful and delectable you looked…yet he felt the pent-up rage as he takes in the sight of those awful chains that restricts your movement, trapping you to be mercilessly killed off like cattle.

Unless it was by his own hand, no one had the right to chain you up...no one. Whoever they are, once he's finished here, he had some work to do on the figures that dare to tie you down like so.

Hearing the shrilled screams once more, he shifts his masked gaze up to the enormous figure that riddled the city with fear. A wide smirk and chuckle was his only response as he observes the familiar form of the one that he knew very well.

‘Heh…so it was you….Jol….’

Rubbing the tips of his fingers together, a telepathic sense of communication was rendered as the bats, in groups of thousands, perhaps millions, go from ringing in the city, to trailing in flight towards his direction. Flying in spirals around his lithe form, a mob of darkness ensues and engulfs him. He no longer becomes visible to everyone nearby, only the merging darkness of the bats could be seen.

The bats continue to screech their calls as they create a tornado out of their flying form, slowly shapeshifting into something wild and unruly.

Just as the brothers took on mystical demonic forms, so did he….yet it became evident as to why each brother respected and acknowledged him as the ruler, and it wasn’t merely just due to his age, him being the first archangel, favorited by God, or the ruler of Hell…..

Just as the archangel Jol towered over each building, so did Heeseung…yet he appeared even taller. His humanoid body displayed the power of his shape as the muscle definition was accompanied by the blood red eyes that glared with a glow that could beam a hole right through your heart. Spiked hair trailed down his spine, all the way down to the smooth tail that led to a seared and sharply jagged point, resembling a spear, yet there were intricate sawed edges that trailed the outline of its tip.

His head resembled that of an animal, yet it had the appeal of a skull without flesh. On top his head, were a pair of sharp horns that extended towards the Heavens, paired with the black feathered wings that draped over his back. It was strange, how all the angels, even the archangel Jol, and Heeseung’s brothers carried beautiful wings that were decorated with smokey-gray and ashy colored feathers, yet with Heeseung, the pair he dawned was all black, lustrous with a shine that reflected a dark red and purple hue.

There he was, standing just as gigantic as the murderous archangel off to your side….Heeseung.... in his fearsome form.

......................

"To all you mortals, demons, angels, and Gods,

Disburse yourselves, gather in numbers, no matter even or odd.

Cast your armies of Heaven’s Guardians, led by the great captain, the archangel Michael.

Or unleash the demons of Hell, that stem the darkest souls, through scripture and tale.

One chance is all I’ll permit, go forth and bear your arms.

Gather every weapon imaginable, your spells, chants, and spiritual charms.

Take every man, woman, and child, and teach them to kill,

Exhaust all matters you can, in keeping me chained, bloodied and still.

To all you weak mortals, bloodthirsty demons, sinful angels, and ignorant Gods,

Do what you need to, as I will stand and give applause.

Let it be known, since the creation of Heaven and Hell, the birth of the Earth, Moon, and Sun,

That I have remained, and will stand victorious, no matter if you fight, defend, hide, or run.

Make every attempt you must, and cover every inch of land and water,

There’s nowhere for you to go, when I am in the mood to slaughter.

I am the fire that burns within your veins,

I am the raging beast that you cannot tame.

I am the shadow that casts the darkness in your blood,

I am the pain and pleasure in both, hatred, and love.

I am the ruthless killer, a disease that infects your soul,

I am the kind archangel, that heals your wounds, sealing every hole. 

Take your knee, and bend your bows,

God will not save you, no matter how much you vow.

Look away from my eyes, you filthy whores, and farmers of pity,

Only she who removes my mask, will be eternally worthy.

Now rattle yourselves in fear and equip yourself with prayers, as I The Devil, Lucifer, The Prince of Darkness, The First and God’s Most Favored Archangel, and Master of Hell.

Will split my crown, and birth the Goddess of Sacred Sin, the Queen of Acedia,

Eternally my muse, my beautiful desire, and everlasting mania."

............

With a roar of his own, all eyes witness the unspeakable events that occurred just from his thunderous tone….the waves of the ocean rumbling…rising to heights that could be compared to mountains.

Buildings from afar tremble and crumble down from the harsh vibrations of his echo, the sky dawns a red hue as the sun hides away in fear upon hearing the chaos and calamity in his demonic scream.

This….before the world, stood the Devil…in his full glory...ready to take on Jol...to save you....and to take you away.

C O D E D M E S S A G E

Authors note: Tomorrow......

#itsabouttogodownppl #hopeyallareready #beprepared #dontbeafraidofheelel

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry @honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07 @raishaii @@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie ; @talesofyuan

[ladylilithprime]

Day 15: Sigils

(Inspired by Somebody Else's Thanksgiving by @posingasme .)

WHEN THE CALL came in from Castiel to meet him at an old abandoned property, Dean almost went alone. With the way he and Sam had seemed to be working weirdly at cross-purposes despite supposedly being on the same page, it was only Castiel's sharp insistence that had him calling for Sam to join him. The way Sam looked at him, like he knew Dean had wanted to leave him behind and was simultaneously resentful and resigned to it made guilt churn in Dean's gut harshly. He shoved it down and waited impatiently for Sam to slide into the Impala's passenger seat before gunning the engine and driving them out to the old shack.

There were two bodies outside, the ground blackened with the shadows of huge wings seared into the ground. Sam made a sound in his throat like a keen that was partway to gagging, and took off for the shack at a run, leaving Dean to curse and follow.

"Cas!" Sam shouted as he flung the door open. "Castiel!"

"I'm here, Sam," the now-familiar gravelly voice answered. The angel stood motionless inside a circle of fire just inside the main room, the walls of the shack painted with bloody sigils, many of which Dean recognized from Bobby's panic room. "Don't break the sigils or the circle of holy fire. It's the only thing keeping them from being able to summon me."

"Who?" Dean demanded, when Sam only swallowed and nodded. "Summon you where?"

"Back to Heaven," came the disquieting answer. "The Archangels don't want you learning what I have to tell you."

"The bodies outside...." Sam started, then stopped, shuddering.

"Angels," Castiel confirmed gravely. "Sent to bring me in. I regret killing them, but I could not let them prevent me from speaking to you. Dean, Sam... Heaven wants the Apocalypse to happen."

"Oh, no," Sam whispered, barely audible around the roaring in Dean's ears.

He wasn't nearly so restrained.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted. "What, so all that running around and saving Seals, was that actually just moving everything along faster?!"

"More an attempt at misdirection and manipulation," Castiel said, shattering Dean's world further. "Only the First and Final Seals are immutable, and with six hundred and sixty-six Seals, only sixty-six of which actually needing to be broken, the Archangels felt it best to direct you to try and save a handful of simple Seals so that you would miss the demons and other angels breaking others elsewhere. The First Seal, you already know. The Final Seal is the death of the First Demon in a desecrated convent in Ilchester."

"The death of the First Demon meaning Lilith," Sam whispered in horror. "Oh, God... Lilith would've led us a merry chase until letting us catch up just in time to kill her and break the Seal...."

"Let you catch up, Sam," Castiel corrected with surprising gentleness. "Two brothers, two immutable Seals... two prophecied Vessels for the Apocalypse. While you would have been led to Lilith, Dean would have been sequestered away to await the appointed time to agree to be Michael's Vessel--"

"Leaving me alone and in position to be taken as Lucifer's after Lilith tricked me into letting him out," Sam finished woodenly.

"Like hell're those dickless asshats getting anywhere near me, or Sammy!" Dean growled, finding his voice and trying not to feel that stab of guilt at the surprise that crossed Sam's face at his vehemence. "So how do we derail things?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted, spreading his hands in supplication when Dean glared at him. "Truly, I don't. Angels are created to serve and follow orders, and free thought and feeling is considered an aberration. Even with these defects, I am not suited to creative thinking the way humans are. The best idea I could think of was to give you two all the information and hope you could think of an option I couldn't."

Silence reigned for a long moment as Dean processed that while Sam stared off into the distant space between molecules or whatever it was he was looking at when he did that. The only sound besides his and Sam's breathing was the low roar of the ring of fire that was apparently important enough to Castiel to have burning that he would say not to distupt it even though it looked like he could barely move.

"What happens if they can't take us?" Sam asked after a long moment. "Michael and Lucifer. They're Archangels, and Lucifer is Fallen, but they're still angels. They have to get our permission first. So what happens if we say no?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "That is not something anyone in Heaven or Hell believes will happen, as neither will care overly much how they gain your consent so long as they do gain it. I suspect that Michael might become impatient enough to raise your half-brother Adam for the purpose as an imperfect back-up, but you have no such half-siblings by your mother for Lucifer to take."

"So it's just me that needs to be taken out of play," Sam murmured, sending a chill down Dean's spine.

"Sammy," he said warningly.

"You know it's true, Dean," Sam said, sounding so fucking young and weary all at once. "Michael's got a back-up if he can't force you to agree, but I'm Lucifer's only option. If we can take me out before Lilith is ready to make her move--"

"Then the Archangels would simply resurrect you after wiping this conversation from your memory," Castiel broke in sharply. "Sam, I implore you, do not be so quick to give up your life on a slim hope!"

"What he said," Dean huffed grudgingly. "I went to Hell once to keep you alive, little brother, don't think I won't do it again!"

"Don't think I'll let you," Sam snapped back. "And I'm not talking about me dying. Not exactly. But I may have an idea. I just don't know how much Castiel is gonna like it, and I know you aren't gonna like it. At least I know I'll be able to stomach the taste."

"I don't have to like it if it keeps you alive and out of the Devil's clutches," Dean said, staring his brother down. "I learned a long time ago that the only order of Dad's I can't follow is to let you die. Ever. So lay it on me."

"It's risky," Sam warned. "And kinda crazy."

"Crazy's kinda what we do these days," Dean pointed out with a sweeping gesture towards the sigil-marked walls, trapped angel, and the entire damn Apocalypse mess beyond.

"Okay, then," Sam nodded slowly. "Do you still have Lenore's number?"

[aziraphalesdiaries]

31 st. January 2024

Dear diary.

It has been a while now, since I departed to Heaven.

Since I left earth.

Since I left my bookshop.

Since I... left Crowley.

Crowley... He was so angry, when I offered him to come with me to Heaven. To be an angel again. To be my second in command. I was confused first, wondering, what was wrong with him. Why wasn't he happy? But I was confused by the entire situation. His words.. they didn't make any sense.

He ... confessed that we'd been a team for at least 6000 years, denying that we are. Then, he brought up the idea of running away again. But this time, he seemed so... desperate. He seid, that we 'could have been...us'.

Before I could get any of my thoughts together, he stepped towards me, grabbed me by the coat and ... kissed me.

Good heavens, I can't describe the feeling, can't describe what happened to me.

All these years of disguise, of performing a charade ... a charade of not liking that nasty, courageous and caring, brave, sneaky, charming, dashing, daring bastard... all this collapsed over me like a gigantic house of cards.

I didn't even have the chance to sort out the pieces, when he suddenly pulled away. His eyes, these wonderful yellow eyes, glared at me, awaiting what I had to say. And me? I stuttered, stumbled over my tongue and could onlz think of the sentence, I always said after we had a fight. The sentence that always made everything well again.

'I forgive you!'

Not this time.

I could see his eyes shadow, something broke within them.

'Don't bother!'

He went pale, turned on a heel and stormed out of the bookshop.

I stood there like back in Jericho again, when the walls came tumbling down. Or those poor humans of Sodom who were turned into pillars of salt.

My trembling hand touched my mouth... where his sweet lips had been moments ago. It already felt like eternity.

Before I could calm my thoughts and blink away my tears, The Metatron entered and urged me to leave.

It must have been a reflex. An escape reflex.

The next thing I remembered, was crossing the street at The Metatron's side, stepping towards the lift. Where he told me, what the ineffable plan really was.

The Second Coming.

All colour drained from my face. They're trying it again. And this time, it was, as Crowley had said 'The Big Thing'.

I was wrong.

He was right.

He'd been right all along.

I turned to my bookshop, where Muriel was about to close the door. But my eyes were on Crowley. My dear Crowley, as he stood next to the Bentley, waiting for me to turn away and run to him.

I could feel my heart breaking.

Because I didn't.

I had been tricked.

But if I wanted to save Humankind, if I wanted to save Crowley, my dear beloved Crowley, I had to go to Heaven. I had to be in charge and make a difference. It was the only way.

Heaven would never change.

So it had to be stopped from the inside.

I need some time to get used to my new title. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is way too complicated, but Heaven insisted on that. So I go along with it as long as I can.

The first days and weeks were just a blurr, since there were so many things to be done. Michael and Uriel hadn't been very helpful. The Metatron kept a very close eye on me, but since I hadn't brought Crowley, his suspicion faded day by day.

I tried to feel at home, at least a bit, but every day without earth, the streets of London, Nina and Maggie and food and coffee and my 4 o' clock tea and - all over that- Crowley, was just bitter and empty. It drained all laughter from my face, made it a cold and stony mask.

I start to understand Gabriel, why he was, like he was. I even feel pity for him.

So I spend my days existing, listening to the orders given from above and give them to others

But today I miracled a small book, a pen and I allowed myself some time to process all those things that happened.

I have to be very cautious, listing all that happens up here in Heaven so that dear Crowley will know properly to make the right preparations.

Because I won't let them down.

Not after I gave away my flaming sword .

I won't let him down. Not again.

Sincerely yours

A. Z. Fell

[kill-the-hand-of-shakespeare]

“We’re just two slow dancers.

Last ones out.”

—

The bookshop was a mess of scattered books and toppled furniture. Pages fell from the upstairs landing and flittered to the floor seemingly in slow motion. It was eerily quiet.

The last place on earth.

It will end, as it started, in a garden. And not the garden of Eden- where god had begun it. No. The last place on earth; that was now fire and molten lava, was the bookshop- a garden of knowledge. And Crowley stared at it from his place on the floor, defeated.

He had done everything. He had tried to stop the second coming with everything he had, but it was all futile. He was half of a whole, always had been. His other half, who had abandoned him, was across the room staring at the mess he’d made.

The demon could see the gears turning in the angel’s mind. See the way his fingers shook where they were pressed against his lips; how his head turned and gaze flicked quickly around the space, mimicking an animal of prey. How he stumbled about and muttered under his breath, unsteady in every sense of the word. He watched an exhale leave him like Azira had been punched in the gut when he looked to where Nina’s shop had once been, and instead was met with the vision of flames and hot liquid from middle earth.

Crowley could see the cracks forming on porcelain skin, and refused to watch him break. The Angel didn’t deserve an audience.

He took a long swig from the bottle of red in his hand- it tasted shit, but got the job done on numbing the hole that was growing in his chest from his emotional turmoil.

He let his head fall back and hit the wall, press into it like his back was doing, and pulled his knees up closer to his chest.

Closing his eyes tight, he listened to the Archangel shuffle around the bookshop and whisper to himself. He couldn’t make it out, but it was something along the lines of ‘What have I done? She wouldn’t want this... this... this wasn’t the plan... this... this isn’t what was supposed to happen.’

Crowley kept his eyes closed. The shuffles grew closer, and soon enough he felt a vibration through the wall as Aziraphale fell against it and slid down to the ground heavily.

They were quiet. Crowley swallowed hard. He could feel Aziraphale holding his breath, and that only meant one thing.

He didn’t flinch when he Angel let out a quiet sob.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked to the Angel on his right, seeing his face turned away from Crowley. The Angel needed to be close- maybe for comfort, but was too embarrassed to look at his once friend- maybe even lover. He couldn’t let Crowley see the hot tears fall down his pain-twisted face.

Crowley sighed through his nose and set the bottle down on his left, before he reached up slowly and took off his glasses, setting them beside the bottle. He looked at Aziraphale for a moment and he took in a breath, clearing his throat. He smelt the smoke seeping into the bookshop. Tasted it.

“Aziraphale, look at me.” He said, his voice hoarse from yelling pleads to cease the chaos as the world went to ruins. The Angel shook his head and let a quiet wail leave him, hands bunched tight in his lap.

“Angel...” the word made Aziraphale almost gag, Crowley could see the lurch of his chest and stomach.

“Angel, please look at me...” Crowley asked again, and the begging tone in his voice wasn’t his choice- his body did it on its own. The pain in Aziraphale’s cries made his heart pang with guilt. Aziraphale wiped his face and turned to look at Crowley, even if it was useless- the tears kept flowing, quick and hot.

They stared at eachother for a moment, Aziraphale frantically searching Crowley’s eyes for something - anything to make this better.

“I-I’m so sorry, Crowley. I didn’t... I didn’t think... This is all my fault.” He said, looking away from Crowley to look at the bookshop, to the shadows of flames dancing on the yellow walls. Yellow he had once found cheery. Yellow like eyes of his most loved person. Yellow of home. “I did this...” he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “This is my doing...” he sobbed.

Crowley tongued his cheek and nodded slowly, looking around. He couldn’t deny it, he wouldn’t try. His hurt was too loud in his ears now- roaring like the flames licking at the bookshop doors. He chewed at his lip and jutted his chin, letting his gaze work back to Aziraphale. He looked so small. So scared. He too, was defeated. No one won a war when there was no prize, no reason truly to fight... Aziraphale knew that just as well as Crowley. And the demon’s hurt couldn’t form hatred, or anger. It would be so much easier if it did. But nothing ever came easy.

“Angel, my Angel, look at me...” he asked again, and when he held pale blue gaze, he just reached up and gently cupped the angels cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered again, stuttering in a breath. Crowley only nodded, and gave a sad smile.

“I forgive you.”

—

OOUF! Just a little piece from my mind after looking at @drunkenmantis works tonight. Goodnight! 🤗😈

[originemesis]

@bored2deathiswear xxx

The first of men had always seemed underwhelming at first glance upon his integration into heaven, particularly when set amongst the various court members consisting of multi-ringed orbits around blinding spheres of light that, despite possessing the capabilities to melt any mortal mind that gazed into their centers, barely bothered the thousands of unblinking eyes that set like diamonds along the span of spinning gold bracelets. The gear he'd been granted for exterminations would eventually become his every day office attire simply because it would demand the respect of one such heavenly beast. Or maybe it was whiplash to face such a beast while its every word seemed more in tune with socializing at a frat party than of smiting withering souls with holy light based axe swings?

If it had been anyone else to miraculously drag him off to some holding pen and then stuck below the looming shadow of his bulk, they would have underestimated just how much trouble a soul shackled, once mortal archangel could cause them. Perhaps his clown of a captor thought so under the assumption his wings were still indisposed, but once revealed he'd been keeping their healthy plumage under wraps, seemed to recognize the man's capability for brutality- lack of vaporizing light beams or not. It's not like he'd needed a weapon to slam a briefly distracted Lucifer into that shit hotel's brick wall before all this with but size and fury alone, and his wings were just another means of causing damage- whether through a direct beating or as a tool to topple balance. Maybe even an escape attempt because what was flying and dick forcing his way through an electrized field to fucking Adam?

If he'd only done just that instead of taking a page from the briefly grounded devil's playbook in pride- lingering to gloat. Which he did by another great slam of a wingspan that seemed to reach from wall to wall in the the sleeping quarters of the room, releasing a crack and a gust of wind aimed to slide the other back a couple of feet from where he'd risen. Helps puff up his plumage too- knocking out the months of binding lines that came from a persistent lack of preening. Molted feathers finally freed float to the floor in lazy trails as he grins viciously at the other's surprise, air quoting him with a mocking twitch of talons.

"Oh yeah. 'Surprises'- like what? You sucking?? Because that's hella common knowledge, bruh." Another beat signals his final stretch before impending take off-bones properly cracked and ready to lift the greatest quantity of his mass towards the rafters and the energy field threaded between it like netting, but his parting shot of "see ya at the end of a spear, loser~" finds its punctuation in a surprised "grk?!" as an ethereal snake's maw launches from its master like a snarling puppet string and latches in a burning bite below the angel's jaw.

Panicked plumage pounds the air as he pulls up against the unusual noose's grip, his newly sharpened talons flying to his neck to try and dig at whatever collar of energy it had constricted around it just to end up scratching himself in the frantically furious process when they scrabble and sink uselessly through the energy loop, drawing trickles of golden lines down from underneath his mask to stain the front of his robe. He scratches with one less claw as his wrist is bitten next and yanked straight, and that's the next burn to convince him to rise another foot or so in the air as he struggles against the serpentine bindings with a strained snarl.

"The fuck?! Is this- SHIT?!"

Another chomp to an ankle drags him down a foot. A snap and lassoing of wing base til it stopped whipping pull him another two. Once stood back atop the bed frame, and the other ends of each thrashing appendage envenomed, he sways in place- unbalanced and still struggling until the bindings give him enough slack for his own fierce fussing to send him face first to the floor.

A guttural growl rumbles through his chest as he tips his face to the side and away from the fucking apple print threaded in to the thinly carpeted board (the fuck kind of psychopath has the same theme for wall and flooring anyway?!), onyx cheek sporting a crack from the weight of his own impact, though he's too busy wriggling the last of his movement capabilities away as the snakes squeeze in and shackle him down. "Bet I fucking do-" Make things hard that is. "I knew you got off on this shit- gah!! They're too fucking tight, you bitch! Get'em OFF-" But even the bass boom he emits in protest is heavily stifled to the point where it'd tickle rather than tear with the frequency of a cat's purr.

The question gives him pause to quirk a brow up at his captor. Maybe he's not supposed to answer and certainly not as nonchalant as he does when he chances a flat guess of "-uhh...short??" The binding at his neck tightening chokes out any other belittling answers he could give, a scowl screwing into place as the other's boot guides the garrish yellows of his gaze up by the cheek. Feathers twitched in revulsion as they're studied by a sliding thumb, the urge to beat them over the ringmaster of clowns in a chokehold. Teeth flash as he sucks them and listens with the realization settling in.

Nobody was ... coming? No way. Impossible actually. He's literally Adam- the man, the anti-myth, the actual legend of population starting nut juice and smasher of the purest pussies! Who would actually leave him, let alone think he just ceased to exist one day? He could think of two actually- fuck. They definitely don't count.

"Guh- you're such a crusty cunt of a liar. I wouldn't just disappear like that! I mean, do you even KNOW who I fucking am up there?? They'd look!" Strained squawks spill as he tenses his neck against the more collar like constrictor. "Probably at it right fucking now- 'sure, it's hard for some hell-slung shit like you to comprehend after getting the old 'ground under the heavenly heel' treatment like the WORM you are-"

It's then with another swan like hiss squeezed out of him that he notices... scissors? The fuck was he doing with those- but his answer comes soon enough when he feels cold metal parting golden downy fluff at the base where the hollow handle of bone lay. Eyes widening in alarm, he struggles to whip his head around to see if what he felt was actually that, but a tendril tightens to keep him straight- blinders on.

"Wait- what in the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

[truearchangel]

"But admit it, life would be boring without me." (Your choice of Human or Sinner)

@shiningxfates

"You are very egotistical, but you were when you were alive as well." Michael commented, which meant "your words don't surprise me" from the angel. He knows what Alastor wants, his past charge was looking for attention. It's endearing, a little bit, he knows that the demon is struggling with the flicker of memories that Michael just existing causes to stir up. He has questions and the Archangel is refusing to answer them.

"if you force the memories, you'll hurt yourself".

Logically, to make this easier, he knows he should go back to Heaven. At least until Alexandar settles properly in Alastor's mind, but each time that thought flickers through his mind... he kills it just as quickly. Michael never had proper restraint when it came to this particular Charge. It's funny to him, a bit. Alexandar was far from his first Charge, but he was the only one to pull the Archangel in as tightly and as quicly as he did. Grasping at him and refusing to let go. He never broke the rules as hard or as many as he did for Alastor.

Now it seems that continues down here too. Something that he hadn't quite thought was going to happen. Not that he expected at all to find Alexandar down here if he's being honest. He told him to fight when he died, apparently those words really etched themselves onto his soul. Along with the necklace that Michael had given him to protect him.

Had that helped? He hopes so. It would... make him feel, just a little bit, like less of a failure.

A shadow looms over him and Michael picks his gaze up from his book, arching his brows at the Radio Demon that leaned over him with that strange posture he adapted. Hands behind his back, bent at an uncomfortable angle, that wide grin on his face. He can use it to hide as much as he wants, Michael knows him. Now that he knows who he is looking at, all the little expressions make sense. He should know he can't hide from his Guardian Angel.

"You're such a brat." Something else that had not changed since he was alive. "You bought me this book and now you're not even letting me read it." Honestly though, he thinks the book was a joke. It was incredibly repulsive. He's learned how to cook human liver from it, which was definitely not something Michael ever wanted to know. But Alastor bought it so he was determined to make his way through it. Apparently that was now annoying Alastor.

Brat.

Sighing softly he closed the book and sat it down beside him as he reached his hands out toward his Charge. "Come here then, if you want my attention so badly." He doesn't give Alastor further chance to argue against this. Wrapping one arm around his waist and using his other hand to grasp the Radio Demon's wrist, he physically pulled him right into his own lap.

The height differece undoubtly made this quite amusing, as did the look it pulled on the demon's face, but Michael hardly cared. "Stop being so tense, just relax. Tilt your head toward me." Releasing his wrist but keeping the arm locked around his waist, Michael reached up and started gently rubbing the ears on top of his head.

An easy smiled pulled onto his own lips as he pet Alastor, enjoying the way his twitched into the touch. What a ridiculous Radio Demon. "You are right, life was boring without you, by the way."

[ineffable-kelpie]

Emergency Hug

Rating: G

Wordcount: 1,374

Prompt: A reunion hug

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

A sort-of sequel to Privacy, but also works as a standalone.

-

Aziraphale was by the duck pond when Crowley stepped out of the Bentley. Of course he was. Crowley had arrived five minutes late, just to prove he didn’t care about wasting the Supreme Archangel’s time. And maybe, a bit, out of spite for the way Aziraphale had only broken his four-year silence to ask for Crowley’s help, and the emphatic silence in his letter on the subject of any previous friendship between them. Crowley wouldn’t have shown up at all, except for the fact that he had a stake in Earth’s survival, too.

Crowley stepped up beside Aziraphale. Aziraphale turned just enough to see Crowley out of the corner of his eye before his eyes flitted back to the duck pond. “Oh, hello,” he said, his tone unbearably polite. “I trust you’ve been well.”

He trusted Crowley had been well. His best friend had abandoned him and fucked off for four years, of course Crowley hadn’t been well. That should be obvious from the shadows under his eyes. Or it would be, if Aziraphale would actually look at him. “Just as well as yourself, I’m sure,” Crowley said sarcastically, and added, “Supreme Archangel,” in a mocking tone.

“That’s lovely,” said Aziraphale, as if he hadn’t been listening. “As I said in my letter, I would appreciate your assistance with…”

Crowley grimaced as Aziraphale repeated the letter that Crowley had already read. It was like someone had replaced Aziraphale with an automaton. Crowley had hoped for at least some hint of an emotional reaction when Aziraphale saw him again. But he still wouldn’t look at Crowley, so Crowley supposed he still didn’t know what Aziraphale’s reaction to seeing him would be.

“…So that’s the current plan, at a high level,” Aziraphale was saying. “I’m sure you can see the most obvious points of failure: . Unfortunately, so did Michael, so she added a few failsafes…”

Crowley wanted to interrupt, to say, look at me, Aziraphale, look me in the eyes right now like you did before you stepped on that elevator and left me here alone. Except he didn’t think Aziraphale would do it. Not when he was standing there, rigid as a lightpost, staring fixedly at the slate-gray pond, his hands locked in a white-knuckled grip in front of him, his face placid as if he’d had his emotions surgically removed—

Oh. Well, of course he wasn’t acting like himself. He’d spent the last four years in Heaven.

Now that Crowley recognized the signs, he wondered how he could have interpreted them as coldness. He knew what meetings in Heaven did to Aziraphale. He’d seen the state the angel was in afterwards. And he knew that, the more dire the situation, the more tightly Aziraphale locked his feelings up.

He wasn’t looking at Crowley because he couldn’t look at Crowley. Because he knew that would make him fall apart.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale paused in his monologue about schedules and failure points and distractions. “Ye-es?” he asked, stumbling over the word. It probably hadn’t occurred in any of his rehearsals.

Crowley didn’t know how to ask. “Are you okay” was a pointless question, when Aziraphale so clearly wasn’t. He wouldn’t admit to anything being amiss, anyway. But Crowley couldn’t just stand there and watch Aziraphale suffer, not when he knew what always helped Aziraphale after a visit to Heaven. What could ground him. He reached up and touched Aziraphale’s arm with two fingers.

Aziraphale stopped breathing. His eyes widened, and then he squeezed them shut. He didn’t speak.

“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, then carefully slid it around his back to pull him in for—

“Stop,” Aziraphale gasped, jumping away from him. He tripped backwards a few steps, both hands held in front of him like a ward. “Stopstopstop, I can’t—” His voice cracked. He shut his eyes again and drew several deep breaths in what was clearly a desperate attempt to compose himself. “That is—This—This is a purely professional meeting,” he said, in a far less convincing attempt at his dry, polite tone from earlier. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear.”

Crowley let his arms fall. He didn’t move from where he was standing, or reach for Aziraphale. Did Aziraphale think he couldn’t show weakness in front of Crowley? That Crowley would think less of him? Crowley had a lot of reasons to think less of Aziraphale after he left, but not his need for touch. Never that. “So, you’re not dying for someone to touch you?” Crowley meant it to sound offhand, teasing. It didn’t.

“I…” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself and pressed trembling lips together. He stared at the ground, still unable to look at Crowley. “I-I…” Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed hard, and nodded.

Crowley snapped his fingers to put up a veil of privacy around them, took two steps forward, and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. Aziraphale drew a sharp breath, but didn’t pull away again. He was shaking worse than Crowley had ever seen him. He leaned into Crowley, like Crowley was the only thing keeping him upright. “Crowley,” he said in a broken voice. He hadn’t actually said Crowley’s name until now.

Crowley held Aziraphale tight. He hadn’t thought they’d ever touch again like this. It probably didn’t mean anything, like a kiss given while administering CPR didn’t mean anything, but it still made his heart ache in his chest to hold Aziraphale close to him. “This doesn’t mean we’re good,” he said, in case Aziraphale interpreted this as some kind of forgiveness or acceptance, when he hadn’t even apologized yet. “I’m still pissed at you.”

Aziraphale nodded into his shirt and clung to him, so tightly that, had Crowley been human, he would have suffocated. How could Aziraphale have gone back, when he knew the effect Heaven had on him? How could he subject himself to that, so far away from anyone who cared about him? Why hadn’t he come to Crowley sooner?

“You’re an idiot,” was how these thoughts chose to articulate themselves.

Aziraphale shuddered under a wave of what sounded like sobs. “I rather am,” he choked.

It must be even worse than Crowley thought, if Aziraphale agreed with that. Crowley squeezed him tighter, in case that would help, and rubbed one hand up and down Aziraphale’s back. Everything he did only seemed to make Aziraphale cry harder. Although maybe that was a good thing, if all that emotion had been pent-up for as long as he’d been in Heaven.

“I’ve—m-missed you,” Aziraphale said, in between huge heaving sobs. “So terribly.”

“Nghh.” Crowley couldn’t think of anything to say. Obviously, he’d missed Aziraphale too. Obviously. He was dangerously close to tears himself. But this wasn’t the time or the place for this conversation, for the same reason that they shouldn’t have serious conversations while drunk. Maybe once Aziraphale was a little more stable, and neither of their heads was clouded by the hug, they could talk. “Let’s, er, not talk about this now. Later.”

Aziraphale nodded, sniffling. Neither of them spoke for a long, long time. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be getting any better, which was worrying. He was shaking even more now than at the start of the hug. How long would Crowley have to hold him, for it to be long enough? Months? Years? How long could they risk before someone came looking for their Supreme Archangel?

“We don’t have time,” Aziraphale said suddenly, his body tensing in Crowley’s arms. “Our meeting—we were supposed to plan—”

“We’ll reschedule,” said Crowley. “There was an emergency, it couldn’t be helped.”

“I-I only blocked my calendar to the end of the hour.”

Crowley held up his arm to look at his watch over Aziraphale’s shoulder. He was more relieved than he cared to admit to see that they still had time. It wouldn’t be nearly enough to bring Aziraphale back to his old self, but it was at least something to get Aziraphale from now until their next meeting. “We’ve got till the end of the hour, then,” he said, settling his hand on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale’s grip tightened. Softly, so softly that Crowley almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “Thank you.”

[alteregozowie]

   To be honest, he was actually rather comfortable, nearly entirely asleep rather than just calmly resting with the shadow beneath him. Once he got used to the cold sensation that it was giving off, it was rather easy for Michael to find it appealing. Being that he often ran warm, having the cooling effect of the creature beneath him was relaxing. He could stack more blankets on top of them for the weight without getting overheated and he was happy for that. He liked the heavy sensation over top of him without the overwhelming feeling of heat. 

   So the shadow was a pleasant addition to his current sleep problem, one that he found he could actually use again if it would allow it. Of course when he had dragged it to the couch and all but tackled the creature, he had seen the brief panic look. The shifting that meant it was uncertain with what it was doing or going to do. But the creature had settled easily enough, and Michael had started to doze off. Overworked, exhausted and with a growing headache, this was the best thing he could have asked for. 

   So of course it ends far too quickly. 

   The door slamming shut was the first thing that scared the life out of him. His arms that had been wrapped around the shadow’s neck to keep it close had tightened horribly to the point a normal creature probably would have had its neck snapped. Then the sound of static, the garbled words he couldn’t even understand, had him preparing for some sort of fight. The cross of his bracelet was quickly grabbed, the pointed end digging into his palm and causing his skin to slice open. Blood dipped from between his fingers onto the couch and Michael snapped his head over toward the entrance of the room, poised ready to defend his current cuddle buddy. 

   Only to see the Radio Demon himself.

   The relief is replaced with irritation and Michael collapses back down onto the shadow, pulling his right arm out from beneath it to check the wound. Pierced by angelic silver that was going to take longer to heal, and the cross had gone nearly through his entire hand with the way he grabbed it. Unpleasant. 

   Flicking his gaze up toward the Radio Demon in question, he frowned at him and tightened his other arm around the shadow’s neck. “What is wrong with you? I was napping. Don’t you know how to close the door like a civilized person? Or speak in a voice that isn’t designed to torment the local population?” He had nearly given Michael a heart attack! He barely slept as it was, out of the constant fear of getting butchered down here and Alastor might as well have made that a reality. “You’re lucky I stabbed myself and now the shadow, I’m pretty sure if sinners can’t take angelic steel, the shadow itself would have perished at one small poke.” 

   Tired, grumpy and upset, he buried his face back down in the being beneath him, completely ignoring the fact the cross was still in his hand and he was still bleeding. “I’m tired Alastor, and it was just standing there like a sulking dog. Figured someone should show it attention.”

It took him a moment or so to stop himself from being ridiculously infuriated. It should have been him he asked, not his stupid Shadow!

Michael was not happy with his outburst at all, and it earned him quite the scolding for it. Alastor hadn't seen him upset like that, and he flattened his ears as he stared at him through the reprimand.

When the Archangel turned away from him in favor of the panicked shadow he was laying on, it made Alastor distressed. He stood there in a huff, looking up as if struggling to force down the temper tantrum he was trying to quash.

What seemed like a few moments, he exhaled, a little calmer than he was. Alastor crept slowly to the couch, seating himself on the arm. His ears stayed flat, as he fidgeted with his sleeves, graduating to his lapels and his bow.

"Michael?"

The Archangel must really be mad at him, because he didn't turn around. Now it was his turn to be upset.

"Michael?" He tried again with the same result. The Shadow however, was pointing frantically at the resting angel, and to the bloodied hand. Alastor licked his lips, staring wide eyed at the golden blood, but quickly shook his head to clear it.

He moved to Michael's side, kneeling down to very gently take ahold of his hand. He really had saved his Shadow judging by the way he gripped that weapon of his. Alastor moved to sit cross legged, scooting close, and put the hand to his mouth. Then, he began to lick at the golden blood, extremely gentle in case it was paining him. He nuzzled at the back of the palm, his face flushed. His ears were still flat, hoping maybe if he were soft enough, he'd be forgiven.

[demiurgic-warrior-chael]

Point of No Return || Michael and Trainer || Self Para

Michael wasn't sure how many days had passed but some of the wounds from hell had faded and only scars remained. Some of them hadnt been to his mortal being and there were no signs of them unless you looked into his flickering eyes and animalistic behavior. He had changed but not in the way that had been expected, even by him.

Michael knew he would be someone else when the month was over but he hadn't expected who he was now.

Michael was going to stand again as Gods greatest warrior, even if it was just as a regular angel. He was going to step back up, dust himself off, drag whatever limbs the enemy had broken and fight.

He glared at the back of the antichrist's head as Aaron prepared something for him to eat. When Aaron turned around he offered the plate of food and Michael hit it across the room.

The slap fell on him before the plate even clattered to the floor.

Some days were better. They had conversations and came to agreements. Aaron was a reasonable man, an honorable man in some ways, but he had a job to do and Michael could respect that.

Aaron picked him up and sat him back on the window seat he had fallen from, giving him a second plate. As Michael started down at it, Aaron ran a knuckle across Michaels cheek. When he pulled the hand away it was glistening with blood Michael didn't know he had shed.

Adrenaline coursed through him as Aaron put the blood in his mouth. Aaron had already almost drank him dry twice now.

"I want to make a deal with you." Michael blurted out.

Aaron tilted his head and licked his lips, the hairs on the back of Michaels neck stood on end as all his senses screamed danger. He hated this mortal body. He wondered how it would react to Adramelech now.... Or Mark.

"Let me get a seat." Aaron said quietly. He went to the living room and came back with said chair, sitting in it backwards, straddling it so he could rest his chin on his arms on the back of the chair.

If it weren't for knowing and those unnaturally white eyes, one could almost believe Aaron was just a normal man. A soft and caring normal man. He had learned how to blend in so well.

Michael put the plate aside, he didn't even register what food he had been given.

"Your wings is nearly completely healed again." Aaron said, trying to get him talking again.

"That's part of what I want to deal over." Michael grimaces at the quiver in his voice. He had faked it so many times during torture but he never experienced involuntary trembling before.

"Mark?" He asked quietly.

"I want to fight him, kill him if I can, without your interference." Michaels voice became steady as he finally met Aaron's eyes," And I want at least one chance to fight him one on one. Somewhere that others won't know they need to interfere."

"So whenever it comes to blows you want me to step back and let it happen? I won't be able to stop him killing you either." Aaron stated. The sun started to set behind him out the window, casting shadows around the house. He wasn't used to mortal eyes, his vision was so poor.

"I just want to fight him. Get it over with. I'm tired of just words with him." Michael held his hands out, palm up in a shrug.

"He will slaughter you. You're not an archangel anymore." Aaron said with a slightly raised eyebrow. Even when they weren't glowing with emotion, in the shadows his eyes shimmered slightly, unnaturally.

"That comes to my second ask in the deal." Michael held up two fingers, hating how frail they looked.

"What do you even have to offer me?" Aaron said with a shrug of his shoulders. Now the sun was far enough down his eyes were the only things Michael could fully make out.

"Let me finish and I will tell you. Please?" He asked quietly, not even sure what he had was enough for any of this.

"Alright, you have my attention. Go ahead." Aaron waved his hand absently but the gesture made Michael flinch. He hated this body and it's reactions.

"I need Kayla's grace."

Aaron busted out laughing and the sound was so loud after their hushed conversation that he almost fell from the window seat. He gripped the edge with white knuckles.

"Why would I give you all of your power back?" Aaron said, continuing to laugh.

"Because I will give you my full devotion. Anything you ask of me short of denouncing God, is yours. Personally. I do anything you want, not hell or Adramelech. Just you. Your personal weapon or slave or whatever you need me to be."

Trainer raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Really? No catch? No gotcha. Whatever I command of you, you do? No questions?"

"No questions. Anything you say I do." He nodded, hugging his knees,"Except denounce my father."

Aaron slowly stood and walked over, slowly kneeling in front of him to be at eye level. A shudder of fear rushed through him making him drop his eyes.

Aaron suddenly grabbed him by the face, forcing himself to look into those awful, white eyes.

"Deal." Aaron whispered before kissing him harshly.

Michael whimpered, the force frightening him.

And his fear was warranted as Trainer harshly turned his face away, and bit harshly into his exposed throat, starting to drink from him harshly. Michael grabbed fist fulls of Trainers shirt in desperation as he started to see black spots in his vision. Eventually they took him over.

[charmante-mp3]

Devilish - Ch. IV

The more I write on this the more scared I get, knowing damn well I can't write action scenes for the life of me.

--

Warnings below; - This is a demon!Ateez x angel!reader (not for long however) so there is talk of religion. As an atheist I really don't refer to 'God' or Jesus but I do not mean any harm for religion. In this writing I do, however, use real religious names, that being said, this is purely fiction! - Also for confusion purposes, I do cut back and forth from present to future. If you see '~' that is currently what is happening, so be aware! - Descriptions of injury/violence

(This entire thing might just go unedited but it's nice to warn ppl)

Prologue <<prev.<< | >>next.>> 1.0k

--

The angel towered over the man, the four wings gave the idea that he was cornered. However, the demon's posture didn’t falter from fear. Instead it inspired Hongjoong to stand stronger as the archangel attempted to intimidate him. They stood in the stretch of grey separating heaven and hell. Hongjoong wore his usual cloak, yet let his horns and crown peak out from under the hood. 

“I’ve heard you’ve come to strike a deal, what would a demon king have to offer?” The angel's voice boomed through the never ending air. 

“Something important of course, I don’t think you would be opposed to accepting.” Hongjoong spoke, a pushing tone lacing his voice. The figure ahead of him stood silent, edging the demon to continue his offer.

“I’ve come to offer peace once and for all Michael. I may be the descendant of Azazel but that doesn’t mean I have to follow his steps,” Hongjoong addressed the entity with respect. 

“Isn’t that a tempting offer, and how do I know you’ll keep true to this?” The archangel was right to be hesitant of the offer. Years of never ending war causing such loss on both ends coming to a halt was an idea out of their minds.

“Keep us in, and with that I ask you to keep yours out,” Hongjoong stated. 

“If I was able to do that, I would’ve done it long ago,” Michael countered.

“Of course, which is why I’m offering to help you with this blockade,” 

~

Ye’un could only hold me for so long. That was made clear as we both tumbled to the ground just before the exit. She ran forward, unknowingly leaving me behind. I was frozen as Michael himself and two other figures stood beside him. Once Ye’un was out she turned sharply towards me. Realizing I had not followed her footsteps took her back, unfortunately the archangel stopped her. 

“Ye’un it’s too late for her to return now,” He spoke. Panic ran through Ye’un and myself. Instantly, she was soon led away from the gates back to the place that was once my home. Her body gave out, disappointment lacing her veins as Michael pushed her far away from me. 

Confusion laced my brain as I was trying to understand everything happening. I walked further into the shadows attempting to keep my presence hidden. The rush from escaping was quickly leaving my body, allowing the pain from my wing to seep in. I brought my hand up to the arrow, bracing myself as I ripped it out. As I was trying to make as little noise as possible, I couldn’t stop the tiny scream leaving my lips. 

“Oh I don’t think so little angel,” My head was suddenly glued to the ground, as a heavy boot made contact with my scalp. 

“Some of us don’t exactly agree with you staying here,” He spoke. I could feel a cold blade slowly make its way up my back. 

“Your wings would make a lovely trophy, let’s see how you hold up huh? Maybe start out with a few feathers,” And with that I could feel a sharp pain right above my recent injury. I cried out as three more stings radiated from my feathers being pulled out of me.

“That’s no fun, I think it’s time to take these from you now,” I froze at his words, the cold blade was no longer present. I wasn’t able to process where it might’ve gone as it had pierced the area where my wings met my back. It was the loudest I had been in my life, my scream pierced the air, hoping this would be over soon.

~

Hongjoong was furious, he had enough of Dagon and his constant raids. The six members landed at the entrance of the castle. They spotted many of their guards keeping Dagon’s poor excuse of an army away, as it was quite easy. Jongho made his way over to one whose back had been turned from them. He had easily kicked them down as a glare of annoyance laced his face.

“So, where’s your leader today?” He asked the minion. Suddenly they laughed, a wicked cackle, “wouldn’t you like to know, where’s your precious angel hmmm?” They continued the heinous laughter as Jongho turned to their leader confused. Just as he was about to question each of them, Mingi and Yunho appeared in front of them.

“They're gone,” Mingi said, right before a sharp shrill echoed in the air. With one look at each other, the eight members took off. Their destination being the location of the scream, the noise causing a panic in each member.

~

Mingi stood bored in the room with Yunho, a few feet away from the two angels cowered in the corner. No one spoke as Yunho and Mingi had to keep their ears open for intruders. 

“Does this happen often,” A quiet voice spoke. The two demons quickly looked over to the other two figures.

“Unfortunately, Hongjoong made peace with angels once he began his reign. There is truly no reason for us to fight, however, there is a large group that doesn’t exactly agree with our decision,” Yunho spoke after clearing his throat. Y/n’s body had untensed a bit, yet still stood guard of the two men. Ye’un had begun to question the two men, but a crash from outside the door stopped her. It flew open and four other demons rushed into the room, the two on guard quickly stood to protect the angels.

“Y/n, now’s our chance,” Ye’un said grabbing Y/n’s hand and rushing toward a window. She had time as Y/n was away to take in the appearance of the room and knew once there was a chance, this window was their only option. They busted the window open to stand on the small ledge. 

“Hey, wait, stop it’s-” They didn’t let the dark headed demon finish as they flung themselves out, trusting their wings to lead them home.

~

“You mean to tell me you saw two angels on the outskirts of hell?” The dark, looming figure spoke. A hooded figure nodded, confirming their story. 

“Then it’s time to cause a bit of disruption for his majesty,”

[yawngoddessofdreams]

Shadow Tower Abyss (2003)

While King's Field 4 is the end of its lineage as the series which really guided early Fromsoft's hand into dark fantasy, Shadow Tower Abyss is perhaps the true end of that particular blood ancestry. A lot of folks have looked back at King's Field and Shadow Tower to better understand the DNA that created the Souls series. For some it was out of a desire to create a more holistic view of how this series was formed. For others it was merely out of curiosity. For me I was of the former camp. Video essays say a lot, but perhaps this was something I should experience with my own hands. Why Shadow Tower Abyss? Its setting and gameplay seemed just intriguing and playable enough to hold my attention. I thought surely I'd get frustrated by the labyrinth and my weak ability to mentally map such spaces so I expected to get my impressions of the first hour or two then hop off it. 8 hours later I beat it.

I loved this game. Its the sort of game that makes me reconsider what a "good game" is. When you turn it around in the sunlight it has the feeling of a game that was meant to be far more ambitious yet had to be chopped up and slapped together as a minimum viable product. There's a certain point where glowing armor of archangels and weapons crackling with power are being dumped on you by the truckload, which has the hilarious side effect of possibly crushing you to death under their encumbrance due to the strange decision to not allow you to drop or destroy items from your inventory without a shop. Your power scaling reaches a zenith of comical supremacy where you are blasting endgame bosses away with a few shots of a shotgun before they opine about the meaning of their lives with their last breaths.

Whether it's the case that this game was always meant to be this way or not, it ends up telling a compelling tale with its ludo-narrative.

(Story spoilers beyond)

You start at the base of the tower fighting tribal creatures (who I admit are pretty racist) who use the bodies of a captured modern special forces unit as incubators for their young. You're presumably a soldier who was a part of them or is maybe unrelated to their mission. The only dying soldier you get to talk to asks you to "kill them all" before handing you a knife.

You delve further until you find the true base of the tower: An alien structure rising from the titular abyss. There are creatures who tend this area who talk about being "Trapped here as you are" yet also say "It is enough to exist. You may not understand since we are so different."

I think this creates an interesting contrast against you who is ascending the tower rolling up power like a katamari till you find the heart of the tower who regrets the fact that you two must be at odds in such a way. It says you and it both just want to live, and looking back you realize the creatures by large only really feed on humans and create problems for you because that is simply what they must do to live and thrive.

Your quest originally seemed to be finding a spear who's power was so great that it cowed neighboring nations to submit to it. The true nature of the spear is apparent though as you find its resting place: A desert of red rusted sand full of disfigured heroes from long ago. They warn you to not suffer like they had. They try to stop you for your own good. You find the spear though and it crumbles in your hands. The spear does not exist anymore, and maybe that is because it has played out its role. Many come to the tower because the tower knows what they want: Power. The spear is the sickly sweet smell of nutrients at the bottom of a pitcher plant.

Perhaps though, the tower swallowed up something it shouldn't have. It swallowed the frightening power of the modern world. While you can use legendary swords left by their owners who died in the tower, you also can use the frightening modern power of guns that have been freshly brought into the tower. They truly tip the balance of power in your favor and it's a scary notion that against the eldritch, perhaps extraterrestrial power of the tower, we have formed weapons that can challenge it at last and slay it like yet another beast.

Perhaps the power of the spear is an analogue for weapons of mass destruction. They cow fellow nations into submission yet put the world on a knife's edge, capable of plunging it back into darkness with smug carelessness. Those who have suffered by its hands plead with the future generations to leave these tools yet we are quick to see this form of power as necessary to achieve life and peace.

Anyways, that's my reading of it!

I would definitely recommend this game to at least try. It's strange in a way that bewitches you and feels very before its time in some regards such as location-based damage and dismemberment on enemies as well as directional swings that really utilize this mechanic. Truly it was dead space before dead space. In fact I would say this game's balance and gameplay put it closer to a survival horror than a true souls game.

Another comparison I'd make is it's a better Scorn since it also has an HR Giger-esque aesthetic yet includes far more gameplay. I'd describe Scorn as a walkable artpiece that is interspersed with survival horror segments where health and ammo is limited. Shadow Tower Abyss is far more consistent at being an actual game and while I admire the walkable gallery sense to scorn, I did not admire the threat of being sent back to uncertain checkpoints by failing the survival horror segments that ultimately had worse combat than Shadow Tower Abyss due to wonky hitboxes.

[dentedsky]

Now that I've stopped screaming into the void, I'm going to post the Good Omens 2 meta I originally posted on the Jort discord server:

OK I went back and rewatched those last scenes.

1. the magical miracle sound metatron made on the coffee is soooo hard to hear lol maybe I'm deaf?? Is there bit it's SO QUIET.

2. The metatron doing what he did was a smart political move. While Crowley and Aziraphale don't see themselves as competent, the metatron just saw them thwart an apocalypse and save an archangel from heaven and hell. So what does the metatron do? He offers to pull them both back to Heaven OR split them apart. Either way a win-win for him.

3. Aziraphale said "no" to the metatron a couple of times before relenting. Why? Because the metatron used the same temptation strategies as Crowley had in the past: food/drink, and persistent arguments.

4. That question about "give me coffee or give me death" is really interesting....i don't get it(yet)

5. When Crowley looks at Maggie, she's asleep! As she is Aziraphale’s shadow character, what does that mean, that Aziraphale will be in heaven a while? Is it a... death analogy?

6. Az says "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you." Crowley replies, "i think I understand a whole lot better than you do." BUT. Neither of them understand each other’s pov in the matter at all! Az is offering to be with Crowley, fighting the good fight together, in the Good Place. Crowley is offering to be with Aziraphale on Earth, away from the bullies and the toxicity and the politics. Crowley doesn't trust that Aziraphale understands those things because he is always looking for the good in people and can't play "the game", and Aziraphale doesn't get that God hurt Crowley irrevocably. He believes that if he is forgiven, that everything will be okay. He doesn't get that Crowley doesn't want forgiveness, because for him it means less than nothing... it's an insult.

7. Aziraphale never found out what set off Heaven’s alarm. He still thinks it was he and Crowley's half-miracle, not Crowley’s thundering tanty. I'll explain why I believe it was Crowley’s tanty that set the alarm off (I'm going off memory here ok I've only watched GO2 once):

It was implied in a few scenes. When Az mentions it, Crowley starts to correct him and then gives up or gets interrupted (I can't remember which), and also the angels said that the miracle was 25 [some measurement] and Crowley says "THAT'S how your lot measure it? By how many resurrections it can do? *scoff*" Also I think in the scene when the angels track the miracle they say it was "near" the bookshop not IN the bookshop. And then in the end Sorequel or w/e her name is says to Az, "I dont know who did that miracle but YOU certainly didn't do it, *eyeroll*" implying once again that Crowley is actually really powerful compared to Az. He could open the file that Muriel couldn't too... in other words Crowley was an archangel, a very high up one which the fandom guessed a while ago. Az is a Principality which is a pretty low class for an angel.

Which adds an extra layer to Crowley’s disgust in the end, because Crowley already knows what it's like to be a powerful archangel, and it's not all it's cracked up to be. So for Az to get excited to be one Crowley’s "but you're better than that" has a double-meaning.