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anonymousewrites · 7 months

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Adolescent Antichrist (Book 4) Chapter Seven

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Chapter Seven: Freaking Out is an Understatement

Summary: (Y/N) cleans up more messes.

(Y/N) picked up the phone and answered the call before it rang a second time. “Whatever Lucifer’s done, it’s not his fault.”

“…What has Lucifer done?” Chloe’s voice was deadpan and suspicious.

(Y/N) coughed awkwardly. At least he and Eve haven’t been caught yet. “Nothing. He’s done nothing.”

“It’s going to interfere with my case, isn’t it?” said Chloe, sighing.

“Not at all,” said (Y/N).

They both knew they were lying, and Chloe groaned. “Fine, fine, whatever. Maybe that’ll get us back to normal…”

(Y/N) almost warned Chloe about Eve but decided to stay quiet. Who knows what that shock would do to her. “So, uh, if we’re not calling about what Lucifer definitely hasn’t done, what are you calling about?”

“Well, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders,” said Chloe.

Uh-oh.

“You seem to understand the whole ‘God is real, the Devil walks the Earth’ business,” said Chloe.

Oh boy, what am I being dragged into this time?

“So I was wondering if you’d talk to Dr. Martin. She’s having a half-angel baby—” Chloe stumbled over the words incredulously. She still couldn’t believe it “—and she’s worried about its angel-ness.”

“…I’m not good at comforting people,” said (Y/N).

“I think you underestimate how good your advice is,” said Chloe.

Damn, flattery. “Fine. But you owe me, Detective Decker,” said (Y/N).

Chloe smiled into the phone. “Alright, kid.”

“Be nice to Lucifer when he screws things up!” chirped (Y/N), ending the phone call. God knew what problems Lucifer was going to cause with Eve. Poor Chloe’s investigation was going to go up in smoke. The least (Y/N) could do what keep Lucifer from getting killed by Chloe. (Eve could fend for herself).

(Y/N) stood in front of Linda’s door and sighed. They were really getting soft. Seriously, how many times were they taking control of these situations? Apparently, the adults were incompetent. At least they and their friends had brains.

Well, some of us, thought (Y/N), snickering.

Still, they were there to help Linda, hopeless softness notwithstanding, so they reached up and knocked.

A frazzled-looking Linda opened the door. “Oh, (Y/N). What a surprise. Come in.”

(Y/N) walked in and glanced around the ultra-babyproofed room. “Aren’t you several months away from giving birth?”

“Well, you know, I like to be prepared,” said Linda, smiling through her tiredness.

“Uhuh.” (Y/N) was unimpressed and saw through it. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

“What?” Linda chuckled and waved a hand. “Me? Freaking out? I have no reason to. Absolutely none. I’m just pregnant with a half-angel baby that could pop out with wings and oh dear god how do I parent a baby with powers? Who can fly? Do I need to babyproof the ceiling?!” She was pacing, running through every worry as it spilled out of her.

Freaking out is an understatement, thought (Y/N) as they watched the therapist spiral. “Okay…right.” They shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Linda paused and glanced at them. “You don’t?” So far, everyone else had been equally worried (Amendadiel) or protective (Maze).

“Nah.” (Y/N) gestured to Linda. “Seriously, it’s an angel’s baby. It’s gonna be healthy and happy, and you’re gonna be able to handle it.”

“I’m more nervous about after they’re born,” murmured Linda, hand on her stomach and eyes on her babyproofing attempts.

“Oh, yeah, the powers thing,” said (Y/N). They crossed their arms and shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, those are pretty easy to handle. You just have to focus and get someone to help.”

Linda blinked, and her therapist brain switched on. “You seem to be very confident of that. Why?”

“You’re smarter than most of the people we know, so I’m sure you can handle a kid with powers,” said (Y/N). And if Lucifer can, then you definitely can.

Linda’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What aren’t you saying?” Her eyes widened. “Is there something going on that I should be worried about for the baby?”

(Y/N) groaned. They weren’t getting away with avoiding the questions. “No, no, I just—Can you sit down before I say anything?”

Linda hesitantly sat down on her couch, and (Y/N) took the chair across from her. They tapped their length and pulled the edges of their sleeves as their natural anxiety flared. It was one thing for Lucifer or Em to know about their abilities or Chloe to find out since (Y/N) was fighting with them, but to outright tell a human (When did I stop calling myself one?) was frightening. But to help Linda feel better, (Y/N) would do it. (I’m a softie. Damn it).

(Y/N) cleared their throat and avoided Linda’s gaze. “I, uh, I have abilities.”

Linda stared, frozen.

“And wings.” (Y/N) decided to bluntly drop the truth.

“You—what?”

“I have wings and powers,” said (Y/N). Before Linda could freak out, they continued, “No, I don’t know how it happened. Yes, I’m fine. No, nothing’s gone horribly wrong. Yes, I have people helping me.” They leaned forward. “But my point is that if I, someone born with totally human parents, can handle having abilities, then you can handle having a half-angel baby. If I’m fine, they’ll be fine.”

Linda relaxed slightly at their words but eyed them carefully. “Why am I just hearing of this now?”

(Y/N) gave her an incredulous look. “Do you think I came to terms with it easily?”

“Fair enough,” said Linda. “But you are alright now, yes?”

“I was never in danger from my abilities.” (Y/N) smiled. “And Lucifer and Em helped me out.” They extended a hand, and the shadows around them condensed and reached up to their hand. “I have things under control.”

Linda stared in surprise, and (Y/N) grinned. “See? I got help, and I figured things out. I’m sure that if your child has abilities they’ll have a huge support system around them.”

Linda smiled. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) shrugged. “No problem.” They stood. “But if you don’t mind, can you not mention my abilities to anyone else? I’m taking it one person at a time.”

Linda smiled kindly. “Of course, (Y/N). I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks,” said (Y/N). “And I know that you and your baby will be just fine.” They crossed to the door and opened it. They paused and glanced back at Linda. “Oh, and by the way, try not to stress out when Lucifer comes to see you. Eve of Adam and Eve is back on Earth and trying to flirt with him and drag him into trouble, so he might be making some bad decisions. Bye!” Before Linda could process that, (Y/N) was out the door.

(Y/N) walked into Lux and paused. It wasn’t even open, and yet workers were milling around a…catwalk? (Y/N) stared. Now, ordinarily they’d love this. They liked fashion, and they’d gone to various Fashion Week shows with Lucifer. However, with Eve, murder, and a missing necklace in the mix…this could only mean Lucifer was up to something, and (Y/N) knew that being up to something that involved a crime lord wasn’t a fantastic idea.

“Ah, (Y/N)!” said Lucifer as he saw them.

“What is this?” asked (Y/N).

“I’m going to draw out our dear murdered with some excellent bait,” said Lucifer proudly.

“By holding an auction fashion show?”

“Precisely,” said Lucifer.

“How does Decker fell about this?”

“She’s over there undercover as a waitress,” said Lucifer.

(Y/N) looked over, and sure enough, there Chloe was.

“See, everything’s fine,” said Eve brightly.

(Y/N) glanced at her and resisted rolling their eyes. Eve had no idea how much danger people could be in this situation. “Dad, you should go and talk to her.”

“No. I have no need. Besides, my cover is that I’m here with my date and the Detective is a worker.” It was a terrible excuse that (Y/N) saw through immediately and sighed. “Now, Eve, you need to get ready. It’s almost your turn to walk the catwalk.”

“Don’t tell me you found the necklace and you’re putting it on her,” said (Y/N) incredulously as Eve walked away. “She could take it.”

“Nonsense. She knows what’s at stake,” said Lucifer.

“She’s not a professional, Lucifer.” Chloe appeared at their sides, and while Lucifer shifted awkwardly, (Y/N) nodded in assent.

“Oh, I can assure you, she has plenty of experience. I mean, she’s much older than you, and she lived a long life before she went to Heaven, so she can handle this,” said Lucifer.

(Y/N) deadpanned. “Yeah, a party girl can definitely handle crime lords.”

As if to punctuate their sarcasm, a cry echoed from backstage. It seemed Eve had managed to find trouble before the show even began.

Decker was instantly on edge and pulled her gun out. “Stay back.”

Obviously, Lucifer and (Y/N) didn’t listen and followed her to the changing room where a man had a hand around Eve’s neck. A man in a suit held the necklace and her threateningly.

“Drop the weapon,” said Chloe.

Lucifer kept (Y/N) behind him and eyed the man warily. His immediate reaction was not to worry about Eve but to check on (Y/N). After all, they were his kids; his first priority.

“Toby, let her go,” said Chloe.

“Back off! Back off!” said Toby. “I am walking out of here with this necklace. It belongs to me.”

“Toby. I know everything, and I understand,” said Chloe.

“You understand? What do you understand?” said Toby viciously. “That I spent our entire budget on this necklace? That I’m ruined without it? That I’m only stuck in here to get what’s mine?”

“No, I understand you,” said Chloe. “The reasonable one. The one always taking care of their partner, cleaning up his messes.”

That’s a weird coincidence, thought (Y/N).

“Everyone loves Pablo, the ‘Fun One,’ ” said Chloe. “But if they really knew who he was…”

“He was a train wreck,” spat Toby. “He wasted all our money on hookers and blow.”

“He doesn’t sound like such a bad guy to me,” said Lucifer.

“Not helping, Dad,” said (Y/N).

“And after, after that voicemail, I rushed down there, found him beaten up, the Mirage gone!” said Toby. “I just, I got so angry!”

“Drop the gun and let her go,” said Chloe.

(Y/N) flicked their wrist, and a shadow wrapped up around Toby’s ankle. They pulled sharply, and it tugged on him. He yelped and fell back. Chloe ran up and kicked the gun away from her. She flipped him over and pinned him down.

“Hands behind your back,” she commanded, keeping her gun trained cautiously on him. Hearing the commotion finally, Dan came into the room and knelt to handcuff Toby.

“You alright?” said (Y/N), looking at Eve.

“Y-Yes. It was a bit scary but mostly dramatic,” said Eve.

Lucifer squeezed (Y/N)’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Thank you. Good job.”

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. They thought Eve was bad news, but she so far wasn’t a bad person. (Y/N) wouldn’t leave her to get hurt.

Lucifer looked at Dan restraining Toby. “Daniel, I’d like that necklace, thank you very much.”

“What? Do you really think we would just hand you stolen evidence?” said Dan incredulously. He scoffed and pushed Toby out of the room.

Lucifer looked at Chloe. “Detective? We need that necklace.” To make sure Eve didn’t get hurt, they needed to give it to the crime lord.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” sighed Chloe. “I wish I could help you.”

“Stop moping,” said (Y/N), hands on their hips as they looked at Eve and Lucifer sitting despondently on the steps of Lux.

“But without the necklace, we can’t keep Bashir Al-Fasaad from coming back to hurt me,” said Eve worriedly. She rested her chin on her hands. “And now the fun is done…”

“Seriously, quite the pity party.” (Y/N) pulled a hand from their jean pockets and held up a necklace. “You’re fine.”

Eve and Lucifer stared in amazement.

“How did you get that?” said Lucifer in amazement.

“Shadows grabbed it for me,” said (Y/N), shrugging. They tossed it to Lucifer. “Now, please, give it to the crime lord and clean this mess up.” They looked at Eve. “And then, you can go somewhere else to have your fun.”

“Oh…” said Eve. She looked down sadly. “But I didn’t want the fun to end. I mean, I don’t know anyone else here.” She smiled at Lucifer. “And we had fun together.”

“We did,” acknowledged Lucifer.

“And I’m sure that if you give me a chance, we can get along,” said Eve to (Y/N).

“What?”

“Please? Give me a chance to show that I’m not just trouble, I swear,” said Eve.

(Y/N) looked at Eve and sighed. “Fine, fine. One chance.” I’m only doing this since Dad is happy to have his friend back.

(Y/N) turned away before Eve could get too excited and walked towards the stairs up to the elevator. At the top, they bumped into Chloe, awkwardly walking in.

“Oh, hello, Detective,” said (Y/N).

“You can call me Chloe, (Y/N).” She smiled before looking around nervously. “Is Lucifer still here?”

“Yeah, he’s just talking to Eve.” (Y/N) smiled. “But I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you.” The two turned to face Lucifer and Eve.

(Y/N)’s smile dropped.

Eve was kissed Lucifer, and he wore his Devil Face.

She accepted him. And as Chloe took a step back, heartbroken and ready to leave, (Y/N)’s heart clenched.

Dad, what are you doing?

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ducissa-animi · 3 years

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A Stupid Idea (Au)

Chapter Five

That night, they welcomed little Bendy between blankets, the cradle would come later, for now the baby had to sleep with his parents.

- What was that," said the dice, caressing one of the baby's cheeks, who fell asleep as soon as he was tucked in.

- I don't know, and I don't want to think about it, if he is an angel, everything is over" whispered Devil lying down next to the child and looking at him fixedly, now he was a father, not even he could believe it, suddenly his mind embarked on other subjects, he wondered what this child would do when he grew up, he thought about what things to teach him and when to explain him the whole matter of Heaven, Earth, Limbo and Hell, he only wished that the child would not be scared and assume the power with firmness, being king is not easy, but with some lessons it is enough to be it.

Dicey on the other hand gave a yawn, walking across the room to the outside, the Casino has to close, and as manager it is his duty to close it.

On the other hand, the angel flew as fast as he could, the weather did not appetite his desires to arrive on time, the light only illuminated his path, as his halo connected with Heaven for it to illuminate.

When she arrived, she went to her room along with others of her class, the others saw her exalted and spilling water because of the storm on Earth.

-Alice, what happened? Where were you, don't you see that we have to present ourselves to the boss," said one of her classmates, adjusting his sandals, others turned to see her standing against a wall, she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

-The room was not that big, but it served for a group of 6 angels, as an office for them, this group is in charge of demonic expeditions, they participated in several wars when needed, they go 3 hierarchies below the Archangels, therefore the contact with them was very tenuous.

Among the winged ones, they saw each other in silence to then go to the call of their boss, they mostly served warrior angels, sometimes Michael, which for them, was an honor of the elders, when they left the piece, she ran to a sack of food, which only contains mana, eating about five and throw herself to a desk, grabbed a sheet any, and moistened a pen in sacred ink.

-Sir, I have news for you, AHG! HOW DO YOU WANT TO BE FORMAL IF YOU WRITE THIS WAY!" he crumpled the sheet of paper and pulled another one out of a box, his hand trembling as he had many ideas to accuse Lucifer of at that instant.

Alice really has a screw loose.

She was created 200 years before Christ (200 BC), at her 6 centuries old, she was taken to the fifth troop going to a war, it was her first time in combat, before she did not use to have feelings or persusations, she only obeyed orders.

Since angels created after the war, they do not have the sense to choose what is right or wrong, they can only obey without a drop of decision. She is flawed so to speak.

The war was about a fight against Chimeras, the latter are winged and malformed beings, praised by humans, they are dark beasts with lion and eagle feet, metal covered wings and deadly teeth.

They broke the rules that were proposed by Heaven itself, for this reason, they had to be annihilated.

Several angels fell due to their lack of cunning as such vermin, Alice was a child at that time, she fought quickly with the Chimeras, for her bad luck, one of them penetrated her lower skull with its sting, inserting its poison that fainted her instantly.

Later she was rescued by other troops, she woke up with a human sense...she felt pain, cold and anguish, angels do not feel that besides love and pain.

She opened her eyes thanks to the poison, she realized that she was doing wrong, that exterminating those beasts was wrong, but she could not raise her voice to her superiors, her mind collapsed for a decade, recovering with that sense later.

If God discovered her, the Archangels would exterminate her, because of her new intellect.

Since then she knew how to live with it, she does not obey orders as such, if she sees something is bad, she kills it even if she was not asked to.

- That's it - on her thin lips a damned smile turned, she crumpled those sheets and took out others to announce that she had work to do, she had to go back to earth and kill the baby, son of the antichrist.

She had already killed several beings far superior to her, what did it cost to cut the neck of a child who had just been born, if she brought his corpse, she would have more attention, maybe she would rise in the Hierarchy!

While her group chanted for others, she looked for the globe to go to the exact place on Earth.

By this time, 3 days had passed on Earth.

Meanwhile on this one, it was dusk as usual, Alice descended to an island near Inkwell, when she landed, the first thing she did was to approach the nearest town, she had to look elegant to make her presence in the Casino, something that would make her go unnoticed in the nest of demons.

Dressing elegant, and somewhat old-fashioned was her solution, once ready she headed to the Casino, taking the human form completely without halo, without wings...

Her heels were so refined that as she walked they seemed to sing sounds of beauty.

Her black hair and pale skin stood out among the others, a lady in black and white.

As she arrived at the Casino, the doors opened to her, along with perverted and insolent stares.

"They most likely sensed my halo" Alice excused herself, she didn't want to think they saw her because of her skimpy clothes .

Con un antifaz y unos movimientos ligeros, procedia a pedir un poco de vino, de repente le valía si la miraban, cualquier idiota que se acercara a tocarla recibiría la sorpresa de una cuchilla orgánica en un brazo, bebiendo de la copa, pensó que armar un total revuelo no era una opción, solo vino a matar a Bendy e irse con su cuerpo, nada más.

-Disculpe señor..?

-Solo hable y ya- respondió el frasco de alcohol con un gran pedazo de bigote entre su nariz y labios.

-Sabe algo acerca del recién nacido?- preguntó ansiosa, ya sentía el sabor de ser alagada por otros ángeles por haber asesinado al hijo del Diablo.

-Recién nacido?, no confundió su venir?- sugirió.

-Vaya- susurró molesta, necesitaba informarse sobre el niño, dónde se encontraba, al ver un sillón libre, se acostó sobre el, probablemente para disimular su nerviosismo

-If I didn't have a nose, it would be more comfortable- she said, fed up with that waiting she located the boy's parents at a pool table, that means they left him alone, a smile widened on her face, if her lipstick wasn't so noticeable, it would go unnoticed, carefully she lifted both feet returning to her refined walk, what did it matter, there was the smell of ink in an inkwell to be traced.

With delicate steps and without alerting anyone, she peeked through a door that was half open.

At the back, he saw little Bendy, staring at the ceiling and lying with his little feet covered, apparently sleeping with his eyes open due to his exaggerated expression.

-What a horror," said Alice insolently, since in spite of being an angel, she hates babies with all her heart, the child's eyes turned towards her, widening and looking at her seriously, he didn't make any movement, he didn't make any noise nor did he scream out of fright, it was easier for her since she wouldn't be discovered, she approached slowly taking a lighter out of her pockets, "hello, son of sin, do you want to play with mommy for a while?

-He answered, preparing to let out the scream of his life.

In no time, so it was, the Casino was silent for a few seconds after hearing the baby's scream and Dicey was the first to react to run to the child, when both parents arrived, they only saw Bendy whimpering in his crib with fire under it, some feathers and the window open.

-Oh shit- said Devil, an angel was here and he already knows it, now Heaven will know the identity of his son and that was not good at all, damn it, he repeated himself over and over again taking Bendy out of the crib and trying to tuck him in with some blankets, he saw a basket and thought of something stupid.

That night, Mugman was away since he had received a reply to his letter from Cala Maria, she agreed to his appointment and let her brother take his turn if that equaled 24 hours, the good thing was that the next day would be a weekend, one to rest according to Cuphead.

But to his surprise, while he was cleaning the kitchen, his boss put a basket next to him.

-What the heck is that," he whispered in annoyance, expecting the worst.

-It's Bendy, and you're taking him home," he waved his tail towards the cupboard and pulled out a box.

-Sir, with all due respect, I can't take your damn son to live with us!

-Not even for a raise?

-How much are you offering?

That same night Cups went home earlier than agreed with the shift, with a heavy basket in hands and a blanket covering it, he is usually known for being a crafty guy who loves beer, so people hinted at him seeing the basket he carried with a slight difficulty.

Moments later of choosing he left the basket in his living room, sitting on a nearby couch and watching it from every possible point, now he was to raise a demon, what a great "honor".

He grabbed a notebook and thought about how to explain it to Mugman when he arrived, tell him that now his boss's son was in his care.

-I want to see you," he asked with a frown, seeing Bendy's eyes protrude from the basket, he hid and showed him his thumb, "maybe I can baptize you with another name... Benito, what do you think?-thumbs down in disapproval.

VERSIÓN EN ESPAÑOL

#history #story #a stupid idea au #chapter five #chapter 5 #bendy #cuphead #xd #english

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burningthemidnightcityoil · 3 years

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THE USUAL SUSPECTS

Eeyup. More Problem Sleuth.

This time isn’t so much as dissecting every little thing that pops out of that comic; I’m gonna break down the characters.

So let’s start.

PROBLEM SLEUTH

Rude; He even has a Meter telling him that his Politeness sucks.

His main stat is basically Charisma, but he is an impolite asshole apparently. But his “Diplomacy” is just him pulling out a can of kick ass. His first outing as actually being a Diplomat... and he cheats..

All, but one, of his Alter Egos is Female. Take that as you will.

And his God Ego is apparently a Goddess of Prostitution.

His favored candy is Candy Corn. Which has inspired many toward favoring the ill-gotten Halloween snack.

His Halloween special is basically him as a Vampire, with High Speed. I suppose he subscribes to the Sexy Vampire trope gig, cos actual Dracula does not have Charisma.

Good with one-liners and puns; though as we see with Frankenstein PI, it falls short at times.

Characteristically, he’s more related to Weasels; but he aligned himself with Elves and never shifted back.

He likes Knives

He gathered his team up by acting like a fool and swearing at them... and it worked.

His natural association with Angels or Angelic Beings, sexy bits, as well as dedicating himself to a narrative role of being a Noir Detective; puts him as a Hope Player.

His pension for Theft, Cheating, and having a Crew; possibly makes him a Rogue.

ACE DICK

Rude. No no, worse than Sleuth. Like, this dude punches people in the face as a Greeting to establish dominance.

His main Stat is basically Strength.

... And his Auto-Parry is to just take the full front force of the force by the force of his entire front.

And apparently his God Ego is the Devil? Likely, it has to do with all that indulgences and violence he partakes in.

He likes Chilli peppers enough to consider them precious cargo.

... There’s no telling if his Halloween gig is an actual Zombie, or it was just convenient for him to play Zombie, being an actual Zombie at the time. At least we know he likes Gummy Worms.

His imagination sucks, but that doesn’t mean he’s not creative. He puts what he has to use, and he’s appears to be very good with finances.

Of course his imagination sucks, he’s the Down to Earth guy.

But he’s also unbelievably gluttonous, and likely morally inept. Consider the fact that he hired Whores to come to his place of business to give him a good time.

Out of the entire Crew, AD suffers the most. He suffers a Salsa based transformation, he becomes a Zombie, he fuckin Dies, he has an entire life made by Death (don’t ask) which promptly falls apart in the worst way possible, he treats being assaulted by tentacles exactly how you expect if you got assaulted by tentacles, This dude is the “Reality Ensues” guy.

He’s the only one who figures out, why not just fuck up a guy when he’s in his fort? It doesn’t work, but its a good start. Points for trying.

All his Alter Egos that aren’t just copies of him, are Gay. Take that as you will.

The Dude fathered the Homestuck equivalent of both Batman and the Antichrist. That is a Horrifyingly bad or outrageously fantastic DC comic in the making.

Lots of fanfic gives his dude a dirty mouth. While the mouth might literally be dirty, Sleuth swears more than AD.

He has an attack that’s about eating / swallowing things, and he does use this against people (like Kingpin).

His association with the Physical, Feasting, disgusting sexy bits, being the least creative and kinda boring guy, but being outrageously physically powerful; Puts him as a Void Player.

On the ropes on which class he is.

PICKLE INSPECTOR

Exceedingly Polite. Second most polite guy here. The dude will play a game with Sugar Cubes as dice for hours, in fear of being rude.

His main Stat of Imagination is an odd one to deal with... but I equate it with Intelligence. Cos frankly, holding an image in your mind in such detail and logical deduction (consider his imaginary office), would put him firmly on the Intelligence path.

His Auto-Parry is him getting distracted. He-He gets distracted, in a life threatening situation. How on earth--

His Alter Egos are all honestly just him. In fact, half the Comic is about his Future / Past copies. His Gentleman Ego is apparently both more physically active, and more akin to ogling ladies. So that’s probably as far away from PI as your gonna get.

PI technically has 2 Godly Egos, but in this case, I’m counting one God Ego. And its Death, the Ultimate Reality. The other isn’t merely a God, but a fucking GODHEAD. That’s like, Deep Lore levels of holy shit. You’re getting into CHIM and Zero Summing. Game Over dude.

He likes movie Frankenstein’s Monster it seems, and he has an outrageous Strength stat as Frankenstein’s Monster. Which is odd, cos you think he’d be more in line with the Good Doctor instead. Hm...

If he needs help, he just asks.

He can’t solve Sudoku, don’t let him fool you.

PI seems to favor all sorts of candy.

Apparently, him being very Tall is prophecy worthy.

Most fanfics or roleplays give him a stutter. There’s no evidence of this in the comic itself, but interpretations are free to interpret.

He has an attack that’s all about staring at people.

Aspect wise, its very difficult to say what he is. Death is a Doom thing, but PI is very imaginative, which would put him somewhere in Mind-Hope-Breath-Life-Light. Considering he basically makes up the universe too, that’s Space and Time to consider. But if we break a few things down... He’s all about staring or seeing things or people. His Future / Past selves all come in various Primary or RGB colors. His imagination is Sight-Based, he imagines stories or objects, and his Godhead is merely the eternal Watcher. He’s probably a Light Player, as Light can travel Space, illuminating objects, whilst also defying time (Faster than the Speed of Light fucks Time up a lot). But his pension for Creation, his association with the Entire Universe, would likely make him a Space Player too. So more thinking and breakdown required.

Class wise... Hm... Well, he’s probably a Sylph; which in Homestuck case, makes PI the first Sylph ever. His character is associated with an entire environment, the imaginary realm, his fairy association is with Elves, and he literally makes things.

HYSTERICAL DAME

She seems nice enough, but boy she’s heavy on the old fashioned slang.

It seems that Alter Egos are very simple. They don’t have stats, or auto parries, and they share their Alter Egos with the Heroes Themselves.

Consider, however, HD’s case. All but one of Sleuth’s Alter Egos are female; which means instead that those Alter Egos are likely all Dame’s.

Which means that the Semidemonde Goddess is Dame’s Godly Ego, not Sleuth’s. Sleuth might not have one, it could just be his Sepulchritude and title as Arbiter.

HD should have her own stat, with associated candy.

She does appear to be ESSENTIAL. Cos she doesn’t die, she just gets knocked out.

This lady introduced the Lipstick Chainsaw.

HD is a very protective sort, and her first instinct is to provide aid.

But, she also has her own BERSERK RAGE (The Hysteria Meter). She’s like Dragon Ball Z’s Chichi in a sense.

Next to that, she’s a helluva a leader. She commands the Whores to serve as her Army (Which parallels the Goddesss’ own Angel army), and is the first on the attack toward Kingpin (Only when under Sleuth’s direct line does she actually fear him). She’ll even frisk MK’s corpse.

Physically Powerful; she can hold a lot of guns, one of which is the fuckin Hair Pin Machine Gun.

... So basically, PS made a lady who could and will kick his ass.

Rage Player. No questions asked. Only Rage Players have Berserk Modes.

Class wise, its a little difficult. But considering she bulks folks up when she meets him, I’d call her a Maid.

MADE OF RAAAAAAGE

NERVOUS BROAD

Literally, the Nicest. The nicest lady ever. of all time.

Her Nerves are on stage here. Be it merely being Nervous... or having fuckin Nerves of Steel.

And her case of the Vapors is her pulling out a god damn Flame thrower.

Teddy Bear. Knife. Commence Virtuous Mission.

This lady is armed to the teeth, and she’s one of the kindest characters here.

If Godhead Pickle Inspector is a reference to Acalokitesvara (”Holder of the Lotus” or “Lord Who Regards”), that probably means that Nervous Broad is Guanyin. ... The Goddess of Mercy.

She has seen everything that has come to pass and will come to pass, all at once, while falling into a Black Hole.

She can use the ASPECT CORSET to alter her height and proportions, and not suffer any ill effects afterwards.

Aspect for NB is like PI. Its difficult to discern, and I need to research more before I can determine exactly what her aspect is... Though the alteration of physical proportions likely turns her to Space.

She’s probably a Seer, thanks to that Event Horizon.

Possibly more in the future...

#problem sleuth #homestuck #classpect

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archivistsammy · 3 years

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“Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday. You know what every other version of you did after ‘gripping him tight and raising him from perdition?’ They did what they were told. But not you! Not the ‘one off the line with a crack in his chassis.’”

I'm in this tarot study group this year, and as I dive deeper into my tarot practice, it finally occurred to me to apply it where my brain is most occupied these days: Supernatural. And I promise, I’m gonna get back to that quote I started with. But for now, bear with me as I start breaking down the first card in just about every popular tarot deck. Also, bear with me as I reference a lot of other tarot writing--I turned this shit into my homework.

In most tarot decks, the Fool is card #0 numerically. Being card #0, it represents a sort of prologue to the metaphysical journey relayed in each of the tarot’s 22 major arcana cards. The Fool stands as a sort of unsullied, outsider perspective that’s brimming with potential and optimism and opportunity, because they haven’t actually started on their path yet. Everything is still rosy and possible in the Fool’s eyes. They’re not particularly interested in the details of the road before them, they’re just ready to go.

Bakara Wintner describes the Fool as being “a sponge, a blank slate,” and “possessing no knowledge of the world he is about to step into and therefore too uninformed to be afraid.” Which tells us that the Fool is an earnest figure, and an authentic one. There’s no deceit in the Fool’s eyes, and perhaps more importantly, the Fool does not anticipate deceit in the eyes of others. He’s trusting, and he’s honest. I love how Melissa Cynova talks about the Fool, that he “has no agenda, no hidden plans or shenanigans up his sleeve. He is guileless.” She adds, “He’s going to be honest and forthright regardless of the circumstance,” and tell me that doesn’t sound like our favorite angel. Rachel Pollack says that in some early tarot decks, the Fool was actually called “The Fool of God'', and she connects this title with other associations society historically had with fools, pointing out that folks on the fringe were often considered to be graced with a higher wisdom “precisely because they were out of touch” with everyone else. Again, I dare you to tell me that doesn’t sound like our boy, Cas.

When Castiel first shows up in season four, he’s a lot of things. Mysterious. Powerful. Driven. But we learn pretty soon that Cas is about as lost as anyone. That he has questions, doubts. But also that he has faith--in God, in Heaven, in Dean. Faith is a pretty key aspect of the Fool--she doesn’t know what’s going to happen once she starts on her journey, but she’s got faith it’s all going to work out. That’s not a perfect description of Castiel, but there’s overlap. I see in Cas that willingness to jump for the betterment it may bring to the world at large. Cas has set himself on a lot of journeys that may or may not work out how he plans, but what ties them together is that leap of faith. That conviction in his choice, even if he doesn’t have all the answers or know what exactly will happen. Whether he’s disavowing the angels to join Team Free Will; making a run for it after breaking free of Naomi’s mind control, angel tablet in hand; protecting Kelly and Jack because he trusts in the vision Jack presents him from Kelly’s womb. These are all times Cas trusts in something bigger than himself in the hopes things will be better for it. And in my opinion, this trust is one of Cas’ defining qualities.

There’s also a naiveté in Cas that we sometimes see with the Fool. Think of Cas as a human in season nine, figuring out for the first time what it means to taste, to feel, to hunger. Or the handful of times Castiel has decided to be a hunter, unaware of how to do it, unaware of how to lie and manipulate because that’s just not how he sees things. Then there’s Castiel recovering in the mental hospital in season seven, loving wholeheartedly every bee and flower because they’re beautiful, miraculous, pure. I see the Fool in these character moments, I really do. I hear the Fool in this exchange between Castiel and Claire in season ten,

Claire: You’ve changed. The Castiel I met? He was crappy. Like, super stuck-up and a dick, and you just wanted to punch him in his stupid angel face.

Castiel: I don’t think I was that bad.

Claire: You totally were. And now you’re just…I don’t know. Nicer. And kind of a doof. No offense.

Castiel: Yes, well, um…Before, I was very self-assured. I was convinced I was on this righteous path. Now I realize that there is no righteous path. It’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it’s far too easy to do your worst.

Claire: Wow. Deep.

Castiel: Yeah. For a doof.

Maybe this is a Fool who’s seen some shit, sure, but the echo of his earlier faith is there still in the pragmatic assessment of the world as he sees it. This is a Cas that’s been humbled by hubris, who now realizes the world is filled with little Fools making their jumps, not always knowing if it’s soft grass or sharp rocks below them. And I think what kills me the most about this exchange, is that even now, Cas is being played. Claire’s about to ditch him after having this heart-to-heart, and it’s not going to change a thing about how he feels about her. He’s got that faith, y’all. In her as a person, in his love for her as his broken little family. It’s the same kind of faith he’ll have in Jack after leaving with Kelly:

Castiel: I've been so lost. I'm not lost anymore. And I know now that this child must be born with all of his power.

Sam: You can't actually mean that.

Castiel: Yes. I do. I have faith.

This is a very different Castiel than the one who wanted to kill Jesse in season five, the human-demon child antichrist who Cas is determined to kill to prevent the apocalypse. Jesse is only tangentially related to Lucifer, only a mere twelve years old, and Castiel takes considerable convincing to spare him. Seven years later, however, Castiel has experienced enough of the world, grown enough as a person, to be open to something different with Jack, the actual child of the devil. He trusts in a way he didn’t before.

That quote at the top, that’s another moment--an iconic moment, to be honest--that screams Fool at me. This is Chuck, God himself, telling Cas that he’s always acted in his own accordance. That he’s been a complete outlier to Chuck’s plan. That every other version Chuck created of Castiel followed orders, questioned nothing, and made no wild, reckless, terrifying leaps of faith off the precipice of duty and into some greater unknown. Only Castiel, in his dirty trench coat and in love with the world (with Dean), had the nerve to see what else was out there.

Mary K. Greer, in her tarot workbook, Tarot for Yourself, suggests this question when we think of the Fool: “In what areas of your life are you operating on faith and trust?” This to me is what Castiel asks of us, too. In what ways do we lean into that which we believe? What do we believe in the first place? In what ways do we honor that belief? In what ways do we honor what we love and let that love be that which guides us? Castiel could have just as easily been another card for this project. One half of the Lovers (choice in love!), or the Hanged Man (talk about a shift in worldview). But at the end of the day, when I look at Castiel, beloved angel of Thursday, I see someone earnest and good, ready to discover a world bigger than he ever could have known it would be. And that, to me, is 100% Fool.

#supernatural #castiel #our meta #supernatural through the tarot

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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In the beginning was DAMIEN WARD, a HALF DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. He is said to be IMMORTAL and uses HE/HIM pronouns. In this New Testament he serves as the LEADER of the VICES. Blessed be his name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

Damien Ward’s advent had been wrought long before he had entered the world. A slice of carnage, the Antichrist would be spat out into the earth, falsely draping himself over God’s ethereal throne; though he would never quite fulfil this prevision, he is a force feared nonetheless. The Son of Lucifer was tucked away in Hell’s mouth when he was only a child—there, his providence burgeoned beneath Judas’s watchful gaze. Since razing his father, Damien has served as the self-anointed Vice of Wrath and Leader of the Vices, positions counterpoised not merely by his birthright but also the throes of fidelity he is capable of stirring. Woven by sublime beauty and lurid horror, he is able to enchant most to his wicked will, a sense of torment and unease washing over all those who dare venture close, and as he moves, a hollow cold moves with him. One seems to understand him as a creature cut from calamity. His touch causes things to rot by subjecting it to an expeditious ageing process: anything his fingers brush over is reduced to ash. Just as God had forged the world, pulling his Creation from his rib, Damien is its ruination, the ability to rend apart God’s cosmos his own. Angels are immune to his touch, fashioned as they are from divinity, though this does not diminish his power. The prodigiousness of his abilities often wander beyond his command, and thus he has resolved to wearing protective gloves, forged from crushed angel’s wings collected in the first wars on earth, to maintain control of his skill. Unlike his hordes of beasts, Damien wears no wings, but instead has the red mark of Ouroboros branded into his neck: a symbol of rebirth and death, marking out what might once have been his world to come.

THE HISTORY.

DROWNING TW, GORE TW

Monstrosity is a necessary ingredient in beauty. So the woman who would be his mother had always believed. Everything beautiful was also dreadful, because it was twisted and full of fear. Wild from violence, it demanded your horror; it needed you to be afraid. This was what had brought her before the dais of the Morning Star: though there was something crooked in the angel, there was also sublimity, that filial breath of God still curled timelessly around his rib. She mouthed a prayer, not for the beast entombed in Hell, but the changeling, half-angelic, his ancient wings spread so wide that they swallowed up the sun. The worship of Lucifer was hardly extraordinary, dipping hands into black rivers and coming up with gold, but falling onto your knees for the Light Bearer was a marvel. As if by some numinous draw, God’s dwindled torch tore his way up through the earth, she was that much of a wonder to him. The woman understood him; when she gawped into his eyes, she appeared to seize something masked in him; she seemed to know precisely who and what he was, far before that secret had betrayed itself to him. His ambition hooked itself around her worship, and though she hoped he would stay with her, he refused. Instead, he parted from her with a gift. From their courtship grew something entirely unexpected: a child. Lucifer cradled the boy in his arms, a creature that should not exist, but nevertheless did. Such was Lucifer’s power. Yet, a prophecy girdled itself around him. The portent held him captive. The Son of Lucifer will eat the world, the soothsayer foresaw. He will put his mouth to the earth, skies, and ravines deep below. He will chew up and spit out all things, even the Morning Star. Though he could not bring himself to kill the child, a seed of strife spread like sickness in Lucifer’s chest. He fled uneasily back to his caves, leaving mother and child behind. He hoped never to see them again.

Though Damien seemed to be an enchantment of his own, his mother conceded she found him, at times, quite strange—yet that, she supposed, also made him beautiful. That was what she had come to love in the Morning Star, no? Beauty, like a breath of winter that climbs your spine. But when she held Damien in her arms, tickling his feet or cupping his cheek, he would not laugh, he would not blink, and the feeling dug deeper. When they walked together in the forest, his cold hand in hers, savage beasts and ferocious animals seemed not merely allayed by his presence but, by some odd providence, drawn to him. Slowly, the woman began to imagine the rot that spread from the centre of her child’s heart. She saw how he had inherited his father’s blasphemy, which before she had refused to see, and she watched as the final morsel of divinity ebbed, wave-like, away from him. She winced as it buried itself beneath the soil. She could not escape his unblinking gaze, the muscles in his face refusing to jerk upwards, even when the child had cause to smile. Damien Ward looked always like a cold creature who never changed. His parentage hung above his mother like a dark blanket, and after eight years of contrite motherhood she finally found herself at the end of her thread, the yarn red as blood. Fog wound itself around the trees, and when the mist had cleared a scene of terror washed over her: there lay a body lying limply in the moss; she watched as the wolves walked meekly to join Damien at his side, their bloodied mouths licking gently at his fingers. Something evil had revealed itself to her that day and, unable to bear the plague she’d wrought, she stepped into the river and felt its waves wash over her.

Her death seemed to stir something powerful below the ground and, its summon extending a dark, claw-like hand beneath the soil, Judas answered its call. Something primal began to knot itself together then: if Damien could run with wolves and bend them to his will, emerging high above them, then perhaps he could also do the same in Hell. Lucifer’s progeny was a source of wicked admiration to him, but he was also, he remembered, his ruin, and thus the impassible ravine grew between them. Damien let his father drape his dark divinity over him, all while his stare burned through bone to reach the throne. After all, Lucifer hadn’t carved his crown to create a legacy. He’d carved it to rule. Damien wouldn’t find a father in the Morning Star, but he found the mite of one in his Right Hand, Judas. He guided him like a beast untethered through the orbit of Hell, ingratiating themselves with all the spectres they might one day cup in their palms. Judas taught Damien how to whittle a lie with his tongue and when to loosen the knot; how to inspire conjoined loyalty and how to galvanise a legacy of fear. Ruinous, the demons flocked to him and, mantled from Lucifer beneath their shadowy veil, the Antichrist began to steal carvings of his father’s kingdom. After an epoch of collusion, the soothsayer’s words attached themselves to Damien like marionette strings and, feeling their strange movement, he felt compelled to follow them. Razing his father from his throne, Judas’s cadaverous hand behind him, hordes of beasts gnawed hungrily at his split kingdom—chewing his father up in his maw, he spat him out, an umbral crown resting on his brow. At Judas’s own encouragement, the Antichrist shaped his infernal army and, curse-spun, a score of ghosts turned their teeth to earth.

Their scourge lasted what must have felt like a millennia: Damien took the world in his teeth and shook it violently, chewing until he reached bone, while Judas built. Always, as he was tearing and grinding, spoiling and shattering slices of the world, there was Judas lingering, wraith-like, behind him—sculpting the wreckage. The Son of Lucifer stood vanward at the front of a legion of terrible monsters, turning their blades and claws on those who had once been God’s heavenly servants; loss or victory, Damien made relics of them, towed by his coven of beasts. He ate away at cities, pulled down what remained of civilisations, making ruins of things that once held fast—before long, the torrid Southern Lands were firmly clamped within his grip. When the demons were done carving their kingdom from the ground, the threat of the Heretics was stiffly dissolved, and Damien Ward settled himself in an invisible throne, a mass of angelic vestiges displayed deliberately around him. As his father had done once. At last pleased with the empire, which was his in all but name, he sighed; the Antichrist yawned out a new age. And yet, the shadows around him have begun to stir. Black-mouthed, they threaten to gorge themselves on pieces of him. After all, what are you to do when your divine purpose is stolen from you, when your reason for existence is, at last, fulfilled? Are teeth not made to chew? What remains for the howling stomach to sate itself on except a dull sliver? Though Damien continues to be feared as much as he is revered, the needle-prick of his claw begins to lose its hold. Stomachs churning with something dark and vicious, a listless hum starts to burn through his kingdom—and at its centre, something new begins to sprout.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ABADDON, AZAZEL & JUDAS: Dynasty. He was not made to be loved, but he is anyway. On earth, the Antichrist had run with a pack of wolves, far more attuned to their monstrous mores than that of humanity, and in Hell he was no different—all devils, they love each other like animals. While the demons were bent on tearing their king from his throne, they seemed happy to bow reverently to another monarchy which naturally grew in its stead; though Hell had cast out its crown, it seemed to return, ghost-like, to settle itself on each of their brows—and Damien felt he was above them all. He spoils Azazel wildly; though they fight as often as they show affection, he has no scruples about answering her every whim. Though there are times he finds her almost too spoiled to bear, he recognises his share of blame in that. Thick as thieves, it is practically impossible to tell her no. In Abaddon, he finds a strangely distant sort of maternal figure capable of embracing the parts of him that his biological mother never had been. Though she tends to abstain from passing comment, he often feels her cold, tender judgement on him. As for Judas, their relationship is infinitely more complicated: he is at once the closest thing he has ever had to family and his severest enemy. Everything he is flows directly from Judas; peeled behind his dark eyes waits every shred of advice he has ever been offered, every word of comfort, every strategy, suggestion, scheme. It is due to Judas that Damien can settle himself over their kingdom and silently call himself king—yet, is Judas not king too?

RAUM: Vassal. He doesn’t always have such personal relationships with those who promise to serve diligently under him, but Raum, he is willing to admit, is the exception that proves the rule. Damien had given something to each of his Vices: a common enemy to sink their fangs into, a kingdom to take up the cudgels for—yet he had offered Raum something more. He had offered her a purpose. The two have spoken at length over her hope to repossess that lost flake of her past, and while he’d first sympathised with her hollowing plight, he offered an alternative. Instead of searching for your history, why not cut out your future? Like stars, he plucked her dreams from the sky and offered them to her, turning them over in his infernal palms; ever since, her loyalty has hardened like alloy. It is to Raum that Damien most often turns for advice, feeling the heavy ambition of his Right Hand eat like plague at the room; having put her energy into the future they might sculpt rather than the fragments of the past she could never know, they make a decidedly visionary pair. Though whispers of dissent begin to girdle around his leadership, Damien knows well that this is a fealty that cannot be broken. Raum, after all, has made a home of his shadow.

ESTIENNE WICKEN: Little Echo. Estienne is unimpeachable evidence to the world that those who are exactly alike do not always get along. Sometimes, a likeness shared is often the cause of intense dislike. With a huff of insolence, Damien acknowledges that the tale of the Antichrist is well-known, whispers of the dark and ruinous monster that chews on pieces of the world, and thus he supposes that the emergence of an imitator is only natural. An imitator, after all, is all they are: an impressionist, an echo, a morsel of his wicked self. Estienne thinks of themself as something like a god; both beastly and beautiful, they arrange a thousand mirrors around themself and drink up their image. Full of malice, this only causes Damien’s lip to curl. At the Antichrist’s fingers waits the power to eliminate all life, taking what is gold and turning it to putrid rot, but Estienne is only the dulled shadow of a shadow—and there were already plenty of those in Hell when he’d left it. Damien tells himself that they’re hardly worth his time, that once you ignore a pest it inevitably fades from view, but Estienne draws his hatred nonetheless. He may think of them as nothing more than a splinter of the profanity long settled into his bones, but there is evidently something in them that causes him to recoil. Rotten, he makes sure Estienne knows of his disdain.

NERISSA: Agenda. It is to Judas that he has always turned to for schemes, but Damien delights in the fact that this is a plot he has hatched entirely of his own accord. Like cadaverous, wandering ghosts, the Horseman are a deep pool of limitless potential: like dipping a hand into an unfathomable milky void, it is possible to touch them and still learn nothing new about them. They are entirely without definition. In Nerissa, however, he has identified a point of recognition; they are a beast, and they feed on it. She gives way to aggression and wrath in a way similar to himself—while his is a cold outrage, like the breath of winter, theirs is hot as coals. There’s camaraderie amongst monsters, and while they have yet to coax out all of each other’s secrets, they have decided that they must stick together; after all, in times of peace, monsters are so few. What Damien hopes to gain from the relationship is less clear, though—a bloodied ribbon binds them together, but since the fall of Lucifer, Damien has found himself reneging on his promises of desolation and wastage. Nerissa, on the other hand, was wrought from calamity; perdition follows their every step. Though there is much they share, there is also much that sets them apart.

Damien is portrayed by Woo Do-hwan and was written by CAS. He is currently TAKEN by MAL.

#original rp #angel rp #fantasy rp #rpg #biblical rp #m #d #damien ward #c #cm

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sarcastic-space-gal · 5 years

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Devil’s Son

Pairing: Jack Kline x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 1460

Warnings: Arguing? Sweet Jack.

Request: Supernatural request! you and jack have been in a relationship for a while and have decided to keep it a secret because you know dean wouldn’t approve...ya know considering how he’s the antichrist and could accidentally kill you.... dean and Sam catch you two in a compromising position and dean is super mad but ends up having a talk with both of you because you’re both really important to him.

A/N: I’M BAAACK! This is my first Supernatural request i’m soo excited! I hope you enjoy it, feedback is always appreciated! xo xo

“Stop please! Jack! Please!” your laugh echoed in the bunker, your eyes welled with tears.

You were regretting so fudging much to let Jack discover what was tickling. And now you were at his mercy. No pity at all, trying to save yourself near the pillows of the sofa where you two were laying.

Your brothers were out for a hunt and you two were enjoying some time together, knowing that you would go unseen.

His hands quickly run on your stomach, in the crook of your neck, your feet, as your laugh became more and more loud.

He was smiling biting his lower lip in a playful expression, when he finally stopped, living you with a red face, teary eyes and your arms clutched around your you to protect yourself from any other possible attack.

“How is it possible?” he asked laughing “I think i’ll never understand humans completely”

“Well, you should ask your human half, i’m sure you’ll find some answers” you said wiping away the remaining tears on your cheeks.

Jack’s mind started drifting. How strongly, how deeply happy he would have been if he would have ever had the chance to know his mother… Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when he was alone, or whenever he felt lost and sad he could almost feel it: a gentle, warm and soft touch of his mother’s hand on his face. Concern would wash away as he would feel engulfed by this blissful sensation of peace and love. He wished so bad to be able to see her, to feel her, just one last time.

“Hey? Are you ok?” you asked softly, your eyes wide and deep were locked on him.

Jack turned his face slowly with parted lips, but as soon as he saw your eyes and looked into them, his lips curved in a soft smile.

“Yeah” he said, so gently it was just a whisper.

Surely he could not see his mother, but ever since he was born you had such a lovely attitude towards him, even if you couldn’t say the same thing for your brothers… You always tried to reassure him that you didn’t had a very easy life, and almost everytime this kind of things got worse and worse. Their reaction was just drove by experience, very painful ones.

But you were different. In everything. You manners, your smiles, your helpful words. Jack didn’t know the meaning of love before he felt it for someone. For you.

At first he didn’t realize it, and how could he?

Imagine coming into this world, skipping years and years of experiences, lessons, words. He knew nothing. The only thing he knew was that when he was around you he felt different.

It started with this odd sensation in his stomach. Then it came the blushing. Then the hammering heart when you made eye contact. Then the desire. For the last one, he didn’t know much about it, he would follow his sensations and learn from them as time went by.

For now, you two agreed it was better for everyone to just keep it secret, mostly for the possible reaction of your brothers.

“Thinking about something?” you asked leaning towards him.

“Oh yeah” he stated simply.

“And what is it?”

“This”

He crawled slowly towards you, your cheeks went on fire already. He was now on top of you, kissing your lips with passion. Your hand went istinctively to his face and back. The kiss deepen even more.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

You knew far too well that voice.

Jack and you looked up to the door and your eyes went wide with surprise and...horror. You jumped up from the couch and looked at your brother.

“Dean?” you two said.

“What is it, is something happened?” Sam came rushing in, thinking something bad had happened. Well, that ‘something’ happened, and it was very bad.

“Oh i hope something didn’t happen or i swear” Dean marked every word while quickly running down the metal stairs, with his bag still on his shoulder.

“Y/n w-what are you doing?” Sam was now near his brother. They looked angry. No, not angry. That was pure wrath drawn on their features.

“I swear i will kill you both” Dean continued. You knew this was only the beginning.

“We did nothing wrong Dee” you said trying to ease his anger.

“Don’t ‘Dee’ me, you know what i think about all this situation and what do you do when we go out for a hunt? You make out with the Antichrist?!”

Jack looked confused and concerned but decided to stay silent. That was probably the right option in that moment.

“Dean that’s probably not what it seems”

“Sam, it’s exactly how it seems”

“Dee please”

“NO! I won’t let my little sister near you!”

Dean face was clouded by anger, his jaw clenched, you could almost see fire in his eyes. Sam on the other hand was more confused and frustrated.

There was a pause. No one dared to say something. When you finally started catching your breath to speak, Dean was ready to respond without letting you say a word.

“I don’t know what happened exactly between you two, but i’ll make this very clear, i don’t care” his voice was like a growl “you and Jack can’t go on with this”

“Dee he is not like you depict him, he is not the Antichrist! He is sweet and kind an-”

“And can smite Angels, Demons, has Archangel’s powers, and above all: he is the Devil’s son.”

Your eyes started watering but you quickly looked down. You wouldn’t cry, and you didn’t.

“Dean we saw how he act around her, we both noticed” Sam opened his hands looking at his brother.

“Have you ever tried to speak to him? Do you know what is his favorite dish? His favorite color? How does he feels? I did. I do. You should know him better before stating those horrible things. Yeah, he is the Devil’s son. And? He ran out killing everyone or taking your souls in order to drag them down to the gates of hell? He didn’t. He helped us, and he is willing to learn more and more about us, about humans and about his powers and how to control them. He treated me like no other boy did in my life. He’s kind, thoughtful, lovely. He would never hurt me. Or everyone of us” you stated looking Dean right in his eyes.

“That means nothing he is what he is”

Dean stormed out of the room as Sam left out a heavy sigh.

“Let him be, he will change his mind don’t worry” he said putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder, rubbing up and down your shoulder blade.

“I hope so” you said with a sad smile.

You were washing the dishes that night with Jack, when Dean entered silently.

“Sit down, please” he said with a sigh.

You two took a sit sharing a look at each other. Sam appeared in the back and leaned on the door frame but without stepping in. He just wanted to assist you two in case of another rant.

He stayed silent for a bit while looking at you two.

“Dean i just want to say something.”

“Go on” he urged him.

“I didn’t know what was love. What was its meaning, what was like to love someone. But i understood when i saw y/n for the first time. He is everything i have in this world and the last thing i would do is hurt her, in any way. She’s the best thing i ever had and the best thing i’ll ever have. Please don’t tear us apart”

“Kid, i won’t”

You two shared a an excited look.

“Listen, i said horrible things before, i-i’m sorry for that. You know that you two mean a lot to me. But i swear” Dean pointed a finger towards Jack.

“I swear, that if you ever hurt her, i won’t hesitate. I’ll kill you” he said dead serious.

Sam on the back laughed a bit as you left out a big sigh. Relief washing awayyour fears.

“Oh i know” Jack responded.

“Thank you Dee” you stood up and hugged your brother.

“I love you y/n”

“I love you too Dee”

“Well now there is only one more thing to do” Sam stated with a misterious smirk on his face.

“Oh yes.” Dean’s lips curved in a smirk looking behind to him and releasing the embrace.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“Castiel?” they both prayed.

A soft sound of wings resonated in the bunker as Castiel appeared with his simple and soft smile.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Oh we think you should introduce Jack to something… you know the story of the bee and the flower?” Sam and Dean explained to him while heading towards Jack’s bedroom.

“WHAT” you shouted in horror.

#supernatural #spn #jack kline x reader #dean x sister!reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x sister!reader #supernatural imagine #winchester!reader

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

Text

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) part 6

Two posted in one day? what? Never heard of her. Its a short one. Like 2000 words. I considered saving this for the next chapter but I can’t without slipping up that one and I don’t really want to at the moment. Could change later.

Warnings: Murder

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7 (will be added when done)

Upon heading upstairs and to the woman’s office, the three had fled. The man got enraged, claiming this was unfair. They're gone! Where would they have gone?

Michael spoke to Mead, who told him to forget about the witches and change plan.

You walked around the room getting a good whiff of the air. Your hand glided across the backing of one of the chairs located in the middle of the room. They heard the gunshots and the screams of their students dying. The two older ones rushed to the doors to lock them. Mallory complained telling her that they needed to save them but Mallory wasn’t ready.

“They teleported out of here.”

“Obviously.” Michael spat. “Where would she go?”

“This was the only place that she had. I can’t predict this.” The man huffed. “Ms Mead as a point,” you looked over at the woman. “Not like it matters but isn’t the world meant to end in flames or something. Are witches really worth your time? End the world before she can end you.” You make your move over to Cordelia’s desk chair. Now that she was gone, you could sit there. You’ve never been compelled to sit there until now. Maybe it was the hyperthecial power of it, it is only hers, the Supreme’s. You ran your finger of the grooves of the armrest. Resembling the woman towards the end of her life cycle, the arms had indents from being dug into. “Life is a game of, I don’t know chess- never played but that’s beside the point. You got all your pieces laid out and you go back an forth knocking each other’s out. Some pieces have a power to end the game if you get rid of them, but you don’t have to. There are other ways to end the game if that’s what your wish.”

“I don’t think you understand chess.”

“And now I hopefully never will.”

“You got aboard this really quickly.”

“You promise answers, something these witches couldn’t.”

To test your newfound loyalty to him, he schemed up something that would kill two birds with one stone. The two of you reached the warlock school in record speed. He refused to explain your purpose for being there until you stood outside the sculpture that hid the entrance of the underground school.

Your task was simple and if you chose to accept it would grant you a spot beside his side in the end times. “Kill them all,” was his instructions. “In the name of my father.”

You smirked, “Why not for us? Doing it for someone else seems better than for selfish reasons and I thought we needed to be as bad as possible.” The boy handed you a dagger. You removed it from it’s sheath and ran your finger along the edge of the blade. “A knife?”

“Make it a pure massacre.”

“A bloodbath,” you said chipperly. “Let’s go, Michael.”

There was no way you could fake this.

“Ladies first,” the boy said using his magic to open the door. You skipped onto the grounds. No one was guarding the entrance allowing the both of you to easily slip in. “I should warn you I’ve never killed before.”

“What about all those women- Oh~ I forgot. You’ll do fine.” What women? You shook your head and removed the knife form its cover. “You don’t need to be clean. The messier the better.”

The two of your stormed the school removing anyone who crossed your paths. At first, you had to hide your pained expressions as you had to stab the students. As time went on, it became second nature. Screams filled the air, students crying out for help. Soon you ditched the knife and used your powers figuring out tricks that Michael did and copying him.

The two of you strutted into the last room. Your joints was loose like a ragdolls. You would have toppled over by now you didn’t force yourself to finish the job.

“Who are-” The staff’s eyes shifted from you to your associate. “Michael.”

“I’ve got to thank the both of you, I wouldn’t have found my kin without the both of you,” Michael said. “I would thank the other two as well but sadly there gone. I guess you’ll have to thank them for us.”

John’s eyes flicker back to you. He analysis your face. It was Behold that said your name first, “Y/n?” it came out more of a question unsure due to you ghastly appearance.

“Bingo.” You cackled yourself to insanity. The man found you to be nothing but nice to him when he had his short stay at the school.

“The She-devil,” the other man muttered out.

“Hey! That’s mean,” you squeaked out getting up close and personal.

“You don’t kill men-”

“-I kill whomever I like.” You stabbed him in the chest. Michael made quick work of the other man.

“I warned Cordelia-” the man crocked out. You got into his face and dug the blade deeper into him.

“She’s dead. All the witches are dead-” you ripped the blade clean out of him. “and so too are you.”

You watched the man’s life fade from his eyes. Michael clapped and congratulating you on passing his test with flying colours. The man worked on his little display piece as you cleaned your blade on your skirt.

You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, your skin paled revealing noticeable veins in your face. Eyes pitch black, covering the white of the eyes. No wonder they didn’t recognise you. The ‘you’ was gone. The colour came back into your skin and your eyes settled down by the time Michael was done with his inverted pentacle of human corpses.

“We should head home.”

“Home?”

The two of you ended up at mead’s house. The three of you rested at Meads dinner table. In the short time you were there you’d gotten along well with the woman which shocked you since she was a Satanist and that went against everything you had stood for… You guess a lot had changed today. You spent half an hour in her bathroom reliving what you had done. Crying didn’t solve your problems. You didn’t cry because of what you had done, you cried because you enjoyed it. You wanted your old life back and if you had the chance, which you were well aware you didn’t, you would have to burn for your sins. You played your part, slowly loosing yourself in the act.

Mead ended up suggesting going to the men that rebuilt her after all of Michael’s terrible ideas of how to end the world including the plot of omen 3.

You asked about these men she spoke of, and Michael filled you in about these two coke heads with bad hair that ran a robotics company. You said you wouldn’t mind meeting the men who played god by creating a replication of a life. Worse case, you waste a day. You asked Mead to call them up and telling them you were heading right over. You grabbed Michaels and asked him where it was located. A second later you were outside a tall white building with the company’s logo pasted up the top. “Not bad,” he complemented. You told him you would stay by his side and make sure he didn’t accept any stupid ideas and just introduce her as a business partner or something.

The men hand him a list of names and all of them were members of the Cooperative which was really the Illuminati but with a new name. All members had they've sold their soul to the devil and therefore, Michael controls them. Jeff and Mutt encourage him to use nuclear weapons to end the world, You second the idea. Michael agreed but only if it'll also destroy the witches. Jeff and Mutt reassured him that it will, but he needs to talk to the Cooperative first.

“Will it kill them?” Michael asked you. You had stolen one of the desk chairs and you were now playing with a robot part. You looked at them like they asked you’re the stupidest question on earth.

“They’re human, of course nuclear bombs will kill them.” You wouldn’t allow it; you’ll find them before the bombs go off and save them. Then you can warn them of what’s to come.

The idea for the end of the world was simple, a few hotspots full of people will be saves. The richest of the rich, and some others to help work. But all, the best in their fields. Michael placed you in charge keeping Jeff and Mutt in line as well as overseeing the project. You had managed to gain the antichrists trust by then.

You sat in the corner of their lab reading one of their occupant leaders strange requests. “God this woman is a riot,” you chuckled to yourself.

The clicking of heels signified the entrance of their secretary/Human resources person along with everything else important. For someone who walked with a can, she was quiet with it, her heals made more noise than it did.

You never bothered to turn around and look at her, too busy working to care about the likes of her. Your back was always facing her, so she never got a good look at you either. She gathered you worked there now even though it was never passed through her. One day you didn’t work here and now you did. The men the woman worked for acted like you’ve been there for years, they didn’t even call you by your name anymore but by an assortment of nicknames, none of which you were fond of.

“Thanks Ms Venable. Oh, that minds me, you will receive an email about the purchases for outpost… which one again?”

“3 and 4,” you answered.

“Yes, 3 and 4 by the end of the day, we need to you place the orders today before you leave.”

“Can you also order some cigarettes? I’m out. Order a lot please.”

“Is that all?” The woman was dismissed.

“Wait? Is that Venable?” You spun around to see the woman, but she was already gone. “You gave your secretary a job as outpost leader?”

“That or she would quit.” You nodded before going back to work.

“Hmm~” After sending your email, you decided to go one break. You groaned, your eyes aching from the constant strain they’d been forced to endure. You tossed your glasses of your head and rubbed your eyes furiously. “Stupid piece of shit doesn’t even work,” your eyes were better off without the stupid eyewear. It was probably time for a new pair you thought. You swung your chair around notifying the two you were popping out for a bit. One of them men notified you that a packet of cigarettes had been brought up for you. They tossed it to you as you walked towards the back exit.

When you returned you noticed a change in the air immediately. A presence that didn’t belong here entered when you were gone. Light. “Did you two have client while I was out?”

“No. We did however get four tickets bought for outpost 3.” You hummed, walking up to the board to see who bought it. St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Oh, those witches, they are good.

“All good. This works with my order. Everything’s good.” You were happy at the knowledge that at least one of your students was alive.

#cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode x reader

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queen-of-deans-booty · 4 years

Text

I Believe the Children Are Our Future: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,180

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“You’re going to get sick if you eat all this ham,” you noted as Dean worked on his third sandwich of the early evening. Sam walked into the motel room and rolled his eyes when he saw his brother eating.

“Dude, seriously—still with the ham?”

“We don't have a fridge,” Dean said with his mouth full. Sam placed a map in front of you and Dean before explaining what he found.

“Well, I found something,” Sam pointed to each of the red X’s he marked on the map. “Um, tooth fairy attack was here, Pop Rocks and Coke was here, then you've got itching powder, face freeze, and joy buzzer—all located within a two-mile radius.”

“So, we got a blast zone of weird, and inside, fantasy becomes reality?” you wondered.

“Looks like.”

“And what's the A-bomb at its center?”

“Four acres of farmland and a house.”

“Then I know where we need to go next,” you declared as you snatched the keys from the table.

“Why don’t you just knock?” you asked as Sam tried to pick the lock.

“There might not be anyone home,” he said just as the door opened.

Sam quickly put away the lock pick kit as you three stared at the kid who answered the door. There was a soft black glow around the kid’s body, and your eyes widened when you realized what that meant.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi. Uh, what's your name?”

“Who wants to know?”

“The, uh, FBI,” Dean said as he and Sam took out their credentials to show him, but you couldn’t seem to move.

Dean looked at you to see what was wrong when he noticed your pale face. There was something you were seeing that they weren’t and he became worried.

“Let me see that,” the young boy said as he grabbed Dean’s badge. When he was convinced that they were real, he handed it back. “So, what, you guys don't knock?”

“Are your parents home?” you whispered.

“They work.”

“Could we please take a look inside? Maybe ask you a few questions?” you asked, trying to show the boy you can do more than just stare at him in fear.

“Fine,” he sighed as he let you inside.

He walked to the kitchen where a pot of soup was cooking. He turned off the stove and began pouring it into a bowl.

“What's that?” Sam asked, trying to make conversation.

“It's called soup. You heat it up and you eat it.”

“Right. I, I know. It's just, um... I used to make my own dinner, too, when I was a kid.”

“Well, I'm not a kid,” he said defensively.

“No, you’re not,” you muttered.

Dean noticed artwork on the fridge, and he took it down before showing it to young boy.

“I’m Robert, by the way,” Sam said as he shook his hand.

“Jesse.”

“Did you draw this?” Dean asked as he motioned to the drawing of the tooth fairy in which Sam described exactly at the hospital.

“It's the tooth fairy,” Jesse nodded.

“That's what you think the tooth fairy looks like, huh?”

“Yeah. My dad told me about him. What, didn't your dad tell you about the tooth fairy?”

“My dad?” Dean chucked. “My dad told me different stories.”

“Well, the tooth fairy isn't a story.”

“What do you know about itching powder, Jesse?” you asked.

“That stuff will make you scratch your brains out.”

“Pop Rocks and Coke?”

“You mix them, and you'll end up in the hospital. Everyone knows that,” he shrugged. Pulling out the joy buzzer, you showed it to Jesse whose eyes widened. “You shouldn't have that.”

“Why not?”

“It can electrocute you.”

“Actually, it can't. It's just a wind-up toy. It's totally harmless. Doesn't even have batteries.”

“So, it can't shock you?”

“Nope. Not at all. I swear.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I mean, all it does is just shake in your hand. It's kind of lame. See?” you demonstrated by placing the end of the buzzer on Dean’s chest.

It shocked him in the way it was supposed to be shocked, but he didn’t know that. His form stiffened up, and he gave you a murderous look for doing so. Jesse grinned and giggled when he saw Dean’s reaction, but you could only give a half-assed smile.

“What the hell was that?” Dean growled when you three left his house.

“I had a hunch. I went with it.”

“You risked my ass on a hunch?”

“You're fine. Sam’s fine. I’m fine, but that boy is not fine,” you whispered fearfully.

“What did you see earlier?” Sam asked when he remembered the look in your eyes upon seeing the boy for the first time.

“He’s a demon.”

“What?”

“Or half-demon. I don’t know, but there is a black glow around that boy. It’s faint, but it’s there. He’s not a witch and he doesn’t have cursed objects. Whatever he believes in comes true because he’s a damn demon that has the power to do so.”

“I guess we need to figure out who his parents are.”

“Tell me you found something,” you sighed when Sam walked into the motel. Dean was on the bed reading something, but you were too nervous to do anything like that.

“It's not much. Uh, a B student who won last year's Pinewood Derby. Get this, Jesse was adopted. His birth records are sealed.”

“Tell me you unsealed them.”

“There's no father listed, but Jesse's biological mom is named Julia Wright. She lives in Elk Creek, on the other side of the state.”

“Great, let’s go. I need to know how this kid is a demon and didn’t try to kill us at first glance.”

Julia lived in such a secluded part of town. It didn’t make sense for her to be out here unless she was hiding from something or someone. There was a gate that separated the house from the street, and on the front was a “no trespassing” sign, but you ignored it as you pushed your way through. Approaching the front door, you rang the doorbell and waited.

“Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested.”

“We’re not salesmen. Agents Ronan, Page, and Plant. FBI,” you announced. Taking out your credentials, you held it up to the peephole along with Sam and Dean.

Put your badge in the slot. Your partners’, too,” she said. Sighing, you did as was told, and a few second slater, Julia opened the door and handed back the badges.

“What do you want?”

“We just had a few questions about your son.”

“I don’t have a son.”

“He was born March twenty-ninth, nineteen ninety-eight, in Omaha. You put him up for adoption?”

“What about him?”

“We were just wondering, um, was it a normal pregnancy? Was there anything strange?” you asked. All of a sudden, Julia slammed the door in a panic with fear in her eyes.

“Stay away from me!”

“Mrs. Wright wait!” you exclaimed as you pushed your way through the doors. When she slammed on, you opened it and continued on.

“We just want to talk!” you exclaimed. She finally entered the kitchen, and when you entered, she threw salt t the three of you.

“You're not demons?”

“I knew it!” you gasped as you lightly slapped Dean’s chest to prove your point.

“How do you know about demons?” Dean gasped.

“Mrs. Wright, we are not here to hurt you. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and these are Sam and Dean Winchester. We’re hunters, and demons are one of the monsters we hunt. Now, please tell us about your son because we really need to know more about him,” you said in a calm manner. Julia sighed and nodded before taking you three to the dining room.

“I was possessed. A demon took control of my body, and I hurt people. I killed people.”

“That wasn’t you,” Sam sighed.

“But I was there. I heard a woman beg for mercy. I felt a young girl's blood drip down my hands.”

“That's how you knew about the salt,” Dean observed.

“Yeah, I picked up tricks. It was in my head for months. Many, many months.”

“How many?”

“Nine.”

“So, your son…”

“Yeah, the whole time. The pregnancy, birth—all of it. I was possessed. The night the baby was born, I was alone. And the pain was—the pain was overwhelming. I screamed, and it came out a laugh because the demon was happy. It used my body to give birth to a child. When it was over, something changed. Maybe the demon was tired or if the pain helped me fight it, but somehow, I took control.

“And the demon wailed inside me. It pounded against my skull. I thought my head was gonna explode. But I knew. I knew what I had to do. When I was alone with the baby, a part of me wanted to kill it. But, God help me, I couldn't do that. So, I put it up for adoption, and I ran.”

“Who was the father?” you asked.

“I was a virgin,” she shook her head. “Have you seen my son? Is he human?”

“His name's Jesse. He lives in, uh, Alliance. He's a good kid,” you said, leaving out the part that made him a demon. It took some time, but you three left her house with frowns on your faces.

“So, now what?” Sam asked.

“We need help.”

“You think he’s here?” Dean asked as you walked into the motel room.

“I said half-demon baby child. So, yeah, I think he’s here,” you stated as you turned on the lights. There, in the middle of the room, stood Castiel.

“It's lucky you found the boy,” the angel spoke.

“Oh, yeah, real lucky. What do we do with him?”

“Kill him.”

“Castiel,” you sighed after a few moments of staring at him in shock.

“This child is half demon and half human, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures call this hybrid Cambion or Katako. You know him as the antichrist,” he said as he took a seat at the table.

In an instant, fart noises was all that could be heard, and you three stared at Castiel as it continued to happen. Dean tried to hide the smile from his face until it was done. Castiel reached underneath him and pulled out the whoopee cushion Dean bought before placing it on the table.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Anyway, I don't get it. Jesse is the devil's son?” Sam asked.

“No, of course not. Your Bible gets more wrong than it does right. The antichrist is not Lucifer's child. It's just a demon spawn, but it is one of the devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven.”

“Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?”

“The demons lost him. They can't find him, but they're looking.”

“Why did they lose him?” you asked.

“Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons. For now.”

“So, he's got, like, a force field around him. Well, that's great. Problem solved.”

“It’s why the shit’s been happening in a two-mile radius. It’s his ‘force field’ as you put it,” you observed.

“With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him. The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. Then, with a word, this child will destroy the Host of Heaven.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. You're saying that—that Jesse's gonna nuke the angels?” Dean gasped.

“We cannot allow that to happen.”

“Wait,” Sam stood. “We're the good guys. We—we don't just kill children.”

“A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war,” Castiel glared as he stood.

“Things change,” Sam narrowed his eyes.

Dean stepped forward and placed a hand on his brother’s chest to calm him down before speaking.

“Okay. Hey, look, we are not going to kill him. Alright? But we can't leave Jesse here either. We know that. So, we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do.”

“You'll kidnap him? What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world.”

“So, we tell him the truth. You say Jesse's destined to go dark side—fine, but he hasn't yet. So, if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice,” Sam tried to reason with the angel. Castiel glared and leaned forward, his eyes deep with disappointment and anger.

“You didn’t. I can’t take that chance,” he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Damn it,” Sam groaned.

“Come on, he’s headed for Jesse,” you exclaimed as you grabbed the keys to the car.

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Naked & Afraid

Summary: You finally (unwillingly, like everything else that’s happened to you since that night in the parking lot) meet your father-in-law in what is arguably some of the weirdest circumstances you’ve ever dealt with.

Word Count: 3734

A/N: What, Claire finally updated Mad Love? Hell must’ve frozen over and pigs are surely flying! Feedback is always appreciated (even the h8ers; bring it on hunny I’m always up for a throwdown), and if you liked this chapter I would love if you would reblog and/or leave me a comment!

Every single thing about Michael Langdon and the life that he lives is the epitome of luxury, so it comes as no surprise that the en suite bathroom that has been deemed yours is just as opulent as everything else you’ve seen. After an incredibly long week that’s seemed to stretch for months, the large, ornate bathtub is the only thing on your mind. After Michael cut dinner short tonight, an issue with the Cooperative requiring his attention, you found yourself sitting on your bed and trying to figure out what to do with an unexpected free evening. Your head is still spinning after everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, and a long bath is where you tend to do your best thinking and decompressing. Today, especially, there’s a lot to think about.

The sound of rushing water fills the bathroom and echoes off of the large granite walls (who has granite walls?). Sticking your hand under the steady stream, you fiddle with the knob for a few moments before finding your ideal temperature. The bathtub starts to fill quickly, and you pour a generous amount of some fragrant lavender bubble bath into the water. You sit back on the balls of your feet, waiting for the bath to fill to your desired depth before rushing to turn it off. Glancing one last time to make sure you remembered to lock the door, you yank your clothes off of your body before sinking into the bath.

You sigh audibly once the hot water covers your body, the heat immediately going to work at relaxing your muscles. Relaxing against the back of the porcelain tub, you turn your phone on to play some music and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a chandelier, because of course there is. Although the signature black is prevalent throughout the room, you’re pleased to see some accents of purple and silver as well. Your thoughts, which can never just remain on one topic for an extended period of time, quickly shift to what’s happened yesterday and today.

The major thing is, of course, the kiss that you shared with Michael mere hours ago. More specifically, why the hell did you reciprocate the kiss? He certainly didn’t use his magic on you; even if you didn’t know what magic felt like when it was used on you now, the stern warning that you would beat his ass scared him enough to not even consider it. But, it’s not as if you like him. At best, you’re starting to tolerate him. That doesn’t mean you’ve ever thought about kissing him before, no matter how soft his lips actually are.

Maybe it was a lapse in judgement? Or maybe drunk (Y/N) was still lurking in the darkest recesses of your mind, just waiting for a moment to come out and screw everything up. A single kiss does not equal attraction of any kind. Michael’s arrogant, nosy, doesn’t understand boundaries, is the literal Antichrist and, to top it off, kidnapped you to be his unwilling bride. But at the same time, he obviously didn’t have a very loving or normal childhood, and he’s been used as a puppet by so many: Ms. Mead, the Satanists, his father. You don’t empathize with him, or even excuse his actions due to what he’s gone through. You do, however, understand why he acts the way that he does; maybe that makes all the difference.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but it’s obvious that you did. One moment, you’re relaxing in a bathtub and pondering how weird your life has gotten, and then you blink and you’re here. Well, wherever ‘here’ is. Everything’s dark, as if you’re standing outside in an empty field with no sign of stars, the moon, or any lights. Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but even then you’re still unable to see any sign of life. Although you can’t see anything, you can feel that something, or someone, is here with you.

The hair on your arms prickles, goosebumps rising as you feel a pair of piercing eyes watching you. The worst part, though, is that you can’t tell which direction they’re looking at you from. Just when you turn around to try and catch them, the feeling’s from behind you. It’s everywhere: Your back, your arms, your side, your face. At times it feels like you’re nose to nose with this entity, even though there’s nothing there. Your breathing picks up, nervously coming out in visible puffs as you wrap your arms around yourself. Looking down suddenly, you’re grateful that you’re not still naked in this dream (or vision, or premonition). You’re wearing the same clothes that you were wearing earlier today, almost as if you had dressed yourself while asleep.

As far as you can tell, you’re alone. That is, until you’re not. You spin around in a slow circle one last time, shrieking loudly when you come face to face with a man. A small smile has his pink lips upturned, showing his amusement at your fear. He’s tall, tall enough that his neck is bent in order to look at you. His unruly black hair somehow manages to look like he styled it that way, and his hazel eyes seem to flicker and crackle with sparks. You stumble backwards, desperate to put some space between you and this stranger. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, reminding you of how Michael looks when he smells your fear in the air.

“Who are you?” Your voice, although you attempt to sound strong, comes out shaky and hesitant.

“I am known by many different names, and I possess many different faces.” He quips, taking one long step closer to you. “Mmm, but of course you would not recognize me as I am now, right, sweet (Y/N)?”

“How do you know my name?”

He doesn’t answer. In a split second, he’s changed from the man with the mop of black hair to a tall man with brown hair and brown eyes, a trimmed beard on his face. If it weren’t for the same sparks in his eyes, you would have thought it was a completely different person.

“Does this not work for you, either?” His form changes again, to that of a teenage boy in an ill-fitting sweater and ratty jeans. His blond hair hasn’t been combed in a while, but he has the same brown eyes as that of the man before him.

“Stop doing this!” You snap, half-tempted to smack him.

“Oh, but I think you will quite enjoy this next form.” Suddenly, Michael stands before you. It looks just like the Michael you know, except for those eyes. Michael’s eyes, the real Michael’s eyes, lack that odd flame in them that this person has.

“Change back.” You say through gritted teeth. You’re not sure why the sight of him makes you feel so odd, but it does.

“You are no fun at all.” He sighs, reverting back to the original form that you first saw him in.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time. Who. Are. You?” Your hands are balled into fists at your sides, and you can feel your nails digging into the calloused flesh there.

“‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.’” He quips. It sounds familiar, what he’s saying, but you have no clue where you would have heard something like this before. “Why did you react the way that you did when I assumed the image of my son?”

“Your son? Who’s your…” You trail off upon realizing the only person that he could possibly be referring to as his son. He smirks, knowing that you’re hoping with every fiber of your being that he’s not who you think he is.

“Such a smart woman you are, (Y/N).” His voice drips with the same saccharine that tempted Eve when she stood at that lonely tree in the Garden of Eden, listening to the lies of the serpent as he whispered in her ear that the Forbidden Fruit would provide her the same knowledge that God himself possessed. “Surely you have heard some of my names. Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Lucifer--” he cuts himself off, and the grin that he shoots your way has you shuddering at the mere sight of it, “--Satan.”

“You can’t be, I--how am I here?” There’s so much about this situation that’s wrong, but for some reason your mind latches onto the sheer absurdity of waking up in an actual hellscape.

“My dear, I’m the Devil. A mere parlor trick is all it took to get you into my domain.” He spreads his arms wide, proud of the desolate landscape that stretches ahead for miles and miles.

“I’m not your ‘dear.’” You retort, eyes widening when you realize that you just sassed Satan himself. Instead of stealing your soul and banishing you to the Ninth Circle of Hell, which is what you’re expecting, he stares at you for a moment before laughing loudly.

“See, everytime I think that I chose the wrong mortal to be my son’s companion, you prove to me that I made the correct choice.” He seems proud of himself, standing tall and with his chest out.

“You ruined my life with your ‘choice.’”

Satan’s face falls, and he takes another step closer to you. “I have given you the opportunity to be great!”

“You stole my free will!”

“Thanks to me, you will rule the New World side-by-side with Michael. You are the missing link to bring about our plans for the Apocalypse. My son, as I am sure you have noticed, is all too human. I blame his mother; gentle, impassioned Vivien did not pass many things down to Michael, but she did manage to give the boy an overly caring heart. He needs someone to fulfill his heart’s desires, and who better than the one who was handpicked for him?”

“The Apocalypse,” you scoff, choosing to ignore the last part of his spiel for now as you look the Devil right in the eyes. “Why do you even want to bring about the Apocalypse? Once everyone’s dead, there’s no more new souls for you to torture.”

“Hell is not just made up of the souls of the damned, (Y/N). Legions of demons, swarms of locusts and scorpions, plagues that mankind has long since forgotten. My domain shall no longer be restricted just to Hell. Instead, Hell, and all of her beasts, will wreak havoc upon the Earth.”

“You want to kill billions of people, just so that you and your buddies can get your jollies?”

“Chaos and disorder are what keeps the world running. I am merely trying to make sure that only those who can survive the most chaotic of situations will populate the New World. Which, might I remind you, you shall have a hand in ruling.”

“I don’t want your fucking crown or kingdom.”

You go to whirl around, hoping that there will be some door that you missed when you first woke up here, but you’re faced again with Satan. When you try to back away from him, a ring of flames encircles both of you, effectively trapping you with him. He snatches your wrist, and your eyes widen at the sharp talons digging into your skin.

“Did your mother never teach you that gratitude is a virtue?” His voice comes out as a thunder, shaking the very ground that you stand on.

You really should tone down the sass and backtalk, but you can’t help it when a man as arrogant as any you’ve ever met stands mere inches away. “That’s really rich, coming from the literal Devil.”

“You foolish, insolent little girl. You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he loosens his grip on your wrist, allowing you to snatch your extremity back from him. You rub the skin, visibly marked and bleeding in areas where the talons pierced through, as gently as possible while trying to gain some feeling back into your tingling hand.

“I embody the seven deadly sins,” he continues. “I can become your greatest desire…”

You haven’t been looking at him while attending to your wrist, but your movements stop at the sudden change of voice when he reaches the end of his sentence. Moving your eyes slowly upwards, you let out a harsh breath when you’re greeted with Michael’s smirking face. The Michael doppelgänger slowly walks towards you, lifting a chilly hand up to your face and caressing your cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” You mutter, unable to look away from his cerulean eyes.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” even his mocking tone sounds just like the Michael that you know, “don’t play coy with me. I can see into the deepest parts of your soul. That purity that you try so furiously to embody, tinted black in some areas. You desire me, even though you hate to admit it.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, breath ghosting across your face while he moves even closer to yours. “The very essence of your being calls out for me, just as I call out for you. We were created for each other. No matter how much you try and fight it, we belong to each other. Soon enough, your mind will give into what your soul already knows.”

“Stop it!” You shout, shoving him away from you.

Satan goes stumbling back, caught off-guard by your sudden attack and nearly topping into the flames. When he rights himself again, he has a devil’s grin plastered across his original face.

“As I was saying, I can become your greatest desire, but I can also transform into your worst nightmare.”

He starts to shift and change, body convulsing as bones grow from out of nowhere. Satan’s no longer a man, although was the title of ‘man’ ever one that could be bestowed upon him? Instead, he’s a horrific, imposing creature with multiple heads that almost looks like some sort of dragon.

“‘And I saw a beast coming out of the sea,’” he bellows, all of the heads combining their voices to form a roar that has you clapping your hands over your ears. “‘It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.’”

Vaguely, you realize that the heads are quoting some part of the Book of Revelation, but you don’t have time to wonder about if the Devil has the Bible memorized when the heads of the beast unhinge their jaws, showing off their gaping maws and the dim glow of fire being conjured from deep in their belly. As the heads start to lower towards you, you drop to your knees and let out a blood curdling shriek.

Michael senses your panic before he hears your terrified screams. He springs up from his plush leather chair in his office, abruptly ending the phone call he was just on with a couple of world leaders. Your screams permeate the air, Michael’s heart pounding in terror at what you could possibly be experiencing right now. In his mind, there’s no time to waste. He blasts the bathroom door open the moment that it comes into view, hoping that you’ll forgive him for barging in on you while you’re nude.

Your subconscious, which Satan had pulled into Hell the moment your eyes slipped closed for longer than a second, had jolted back into your body upon sensing your imminent demise. In your panic, you had slipped under the water, inhaling mouthfuls of it as your lungs tried to breathe normally again. Your hands cling to the lip of the tub, almost like you’re worried that something will swim up from the depths of the bath and attempt to drag you back under. Alternating between screaming and coughing up the water that has invaded your lungs, your eyes remain clenched tight.

Michael reaches for you before his mind can start to think about the repercussions of doing so, arms slipping under your body and pulling you out of the water. His suit is soaking wet now, but he doesn’t care. He’s never seen you like this before, so terror-stricken that you can’t even open your eyes, and it shakes him to his core. You thrash against his firm chest, sure that Satan has shifted back and captured you in hell. It’s only when you hear his frantically calm reassurances that your body stops writhing.

“Hey, you’re okay, it’s fine. I’m here, nothing can hurt you.” He soothes you, waiting patiently for your eyes to flutter open.

“Michael? It’s...it’s actually you, right?” Your voice is meek in a way that he’s never heard before.

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” Your eyes fill with tears at the memory, and you shake your head before burying your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body. “What happened to you?”

The only sounds you make are the small whimpers that slip past the barrier of your mouth, floating to Michael’s ears. His fingers go to your back, freezing when he remembers that you’re naked. Hesitantly, he grabs a towel and wraps you in it, though you’re still too shocked to even care. Michael holds you tightly against him, rubbing circles on your back and listening to your heart to make sure it evens out. It takes a while, but it slowly manages to go to a rate that wouldn’t have an Apple Watch alerting its owner of a possible heart attack.

“(Y/N), is it okay if I get you dressed?” If your head wasn’t pressed against his chest, he wouldn’t even be aware that you had nodded in response to his request, the movement was so small.

Michael can tell that the steady metronome of his heart is calming to you, so he remains silent while he runs another towel through your hair. He’s gentle with you, almost like you’re a wisp of smoke he’s managed to capture in his hands; one wrong movement, and you’ll disappear. He helps to tug the black nightdress over your head, looking up at the ceiling while he inches it down past your thighs until you’re modest. A wave of his bejeweled hand makes the bathtub start to drain, the sound of the water level receding helping to fill the silence of the bathroom.

You’re exhausted, although you’re not sure if it’s from the near-drowning that still has your lungs feeling like they’re burning or the fact that Satan literally had you in Hell with him. When Michael picks you up in his arms, you don’t even bother to protest what he’s doing. The covers of your bed have already been turned down, likely the work of a maid slipping in while you were first in the bathroom. Michael sets you down amongst the plush pillows and starts to pull the blankets up around you, but stops when you grab his hand.

“It was Satan.” You mutter, tired eyes gazing up to see his panicked reaction.

“What?”

“Lay down with me.” Patting the spot on the bed next to you, Michael slowly slips his shoes off before sliding in next to you. You smile slightly at how he still respects your space, fingers just barely brushing against yours in an effort to not piss you off. “I must have fallen asleep while I was taking a bath. It felt like I only blinked, and suddenly I was in this pitch black landscape…”

You tell him everything about the confrontation with his father, only leaving out the part where Satan accused Michael of being your greatest desire. He listens intently throughout your entire story, saving all of his comments for after you’re finished.

“Why did he show himself to you?” Michael mutters, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Does he normally not do that?”

“I’ve never actually seen him before. My father has an...odd way of communicating with me, and that usually involves some sort of visions or rituals. I don’t understand why you’re--” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening while he lets out a sigh. “--he’s not pleased with either of us.”

“He couldn’t just have a friendly conversation with you instead of dragging me to Hell?”

“This was intended to be a message that would resonate with both of us. Would you have taken me seriously if he had spoken to me during a ritual?”

“You already know I wouldn’t.”

“Then what better way to voice his displeasure than by getting the skeptic, the unwilling second part of this equation, to be the messenger?”

“I don’t understand why he’s not pleased, though. I married you. Isn’t that enough?”

Michael grimaces. “You’re far more headstrong than he thought you would be. I think, when my father was picking a bride for me, he imagined that she would be this demure little thing who faithfully worshipped Satan and had already accrued a body count by her eighteenth birthday. You are almost the exact opposite of that, and it infuriates him. Any wrench in our plans means more time that’s wasted.”

“What you order on Amazon versus what shows up.” You joke, chuckling when Michael stifles a smile. “C’mon, that was funny!”

“It’s time for you to get some rest, (Y/N).” Michael reminds you, stroking your damp hair back from your face. His clothes are no longer wet, and you briefly wonder if he used his magic to dry them before nerves seize your stomach.

“Wait! Please don’t leave me.” You plead, gripping his arm tightly with both of yours. Michael looks concerned, and you sigh. “I’m scared that he’ll get me again if I fall asleep.”

Michael’s arms wrap around you, securing you against his chest. That steady rhythm that makes up his heartbeat starts to calm you again, and you use the sound to ground yourself.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, I promise.” You can’t be too sure, considering how fast you drift off, but it feels like he lays a kiss to your forehead.

Michael keeps his promise, remaining with you until long after you’re asleep. When his own eyes start to slip closed, he allows himself to fall asleep next to you, protecting you no matter what.

Tag List: @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblogthethird @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @dolceandchalamet @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @americanhorrorstudies @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @punkysouls @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsdemon @langdonslove @carousallie @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @babyloutattoo89 @divinelangdon @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31 @rocketgirl2410 @gold-dragon-slayer

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #*taps on microphone* are these tags on???

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tananaicodedbutch · 5 years

Text

Fellas, hear me out

Quite a lot of time ago I've seen a marvelous fanart, where Abbacchio was Crowley and Bruno was Aziraphale.

My rotten brain was just,,,,yes this make sense,,,,

And so

Bruno is an angel sended by God herself on the Earth just to watch the humanity and do some reports. He always forgot to do them. He has a clothes shop and he ""work"" as a tailor. He always wanted someone to spend the eternity with, but he was always on his own.

Abbacchio is a demon who loves to make trumble literally everywhere, tempting people with his androgynous and desiderable look. He doesn't work, but he likes to collect VHS of Sanremo's old editions. Once he was an angel, but, after he made some deals with demons, he was exiliated by God herself.

Trish is the Antichrist (yeah because Diavolo in Italian means Devil and yes I'm trash) and she was adopted by Bruno when she was a baby and grown up with the angel who was the Best Mum. She is a balanced and witty girl, even if she seems a bit spoiled, and she really loves her friends.

Abbacchio, on the other hand, adopter another child: Giorno Giovanna, an abused kid who, according to the people, was the son of Satan. In fact, his ancestor was Micillina, a which who made a prophecy about the Apocalypse and Trish herself, and so he is half a warlock. He is an ambitious and gentle kid and, even if his father is strich, he loves him unconditionally, and Abbacchio loves him too.

Abbacchio and Bruno, who knew each other since the beginning of times, unsures about which one of the two was the actual Antichrist, send their sons to the same school, and there the two kids become part of a little group of outcasts, formed by another three kids.

The other three kids were Guido, the """leader""" of the gang and a good boy, Michele, surnamed Fugo because of his tendency to disappear randomly and the Smartass of the group, and Mario, surnamed Narancia because of a really old story with a school theatre show and the weird line he has to say and the child of the squad. Guido loves to make trumbles too with his tendency to shoot people with his cerbottana and he immediately fell in love with Giorno, but he always try to hide his feelings using humor and fake-flirting strategies. Fugo was abused by one of his elementary school teachers and this event gave him some weird behaviors and uncontrollable rage, even if most of the time he tries to be soft and gentle with everyone. Narancia is the weirdest, since he is a year younger than everyone, a theatre kid and incapable to comprends basic math. He's often helped by Fugo, and they're best friends (and almost lovers).

They accepts both Giorno and Trish, and Bruno and Abbacchio are like "yo!!!what if???they where???the misfits who where in the prophecy???" And they starts to be "yo???do you want to go home to do homework together and do something together ahah"

Because yeah, Abbacchio and Bruno were neighbours.

Just for saying, Trish haven't eat dinner at home for an entire week because Abbacchio and Bruno keep to organise weird just-gang-exits just to observe them and figure out which one was the actual fucking Antichrist.

La Squadra are forces of Heaven and Hell coalizated to kill the Antichrist, and Risotto Nero is a devil and Prosciutto is an angel. They once try to attack Bruno, but Trish was like "oh fikle fakle dad no" and just protect him with his devilish powers. So Bruno was like "maybe she is the Antichrist????" And immediately calls Abbacchio but he goes "GIORNO DID A SIMILAR THING WHEN A WEIRD PINEAPPLE TRIED TO KILL US I'M CONFUSED AND YOU SHOULD BE TOO".

I stan two (2) Ineffable Pirlas in every au

In all of this, Trish, Giorno and the gang are like fifteen and they all go to high school. Typical after school activities: tries to save your dad's ass every damn day with your cool satanic/magic powers.

But, plot twist, a new kid enters in the gang: his name is Doppio, and he looks like a gentle and funny kid. In reality, he's a Devil's spy and once, after he reveal his identity and tries to fight Giorno and the other normal kids who where like "ah cool our friends are superheroes like Capitan Ventosa but poRCA MERDA HE'S TRYING TO KILL US DAMOSE" he says to Giorno that he's not the true Antichrist of the prophecy.

And Bruno and Abbacchio are just "oh, well. Questa è benzina, noi ci diamo fuoco" because they didn't understand the fact that Trish is the Fucking Antichrist because they're due coglioni al prezzo di uno.

But then, the Apocalypse starts and, while Bruno and Abbacchio are occupated with keep the kids safe and, like, the world safe, Satan appears and he says "yo, bring me my kiddo" and everyone's like "we don't have your kid" and Satan's like "WHERE IS MY GIRL. THE ONE WITH PINK HAIR" and everyone's like "AAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

they're stupid.

And then Trish has to fight her dad and,,,,well,,,,basically she kills him???just saying "YOU'RE NOT MY DAD. I HATE YOU" like in the show or whatever. But she do it with the Power Of Friendship and with her Powers of course.

And everything ends. Bruno and Abbacchio move together in the same house with their Satanic Daughter and their Magic Son.

But it's not ended here, since La Squadra kidnap them both and well,,,,tries to kill them with holy water and infernal fire, but they switched their bodies so

And all this thing ends with Bruno, Abbacchio and the Gang eat dinner in front of the TV watching old spaghetti western. That's it.

Bonus:

The Bentley is a Panda and Abbacchio al volante pericolo costante

Narancia and Guido only listen to trap/rap and so they're like "sku sku non fotti con la gang skuuu"

Trish follows Giopizzi on YouTube and force Smol Celestial Dad to watch Mentana with her

There is no Queen. Just 883.

#crowley #aziraphale #au #good omens #good omens au #italy #trish una #giorno giovanna #guido mista #narancia ghirga #fugo pannacotta #diavolo #leone abbacchio #bruno bucciarati #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #bruabba

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citrontartellete · 5 years

Text

Nanny!!! Really wanted to see them reunited and happy.

South Downs 2022

Warlock was bored. Extremely so. He didn’t know why he came on this school trip anyway, just to see some dumb chalk mountains or hills or whatever they were gone to do there. The boy adjusted his earphones on his ears and watched the landscape change through the windows, his forehead resting on the cold glass,his earphones playing TheGhost of You loudly, none on the seat next to him. He did not have many friends at school. It seemed that none wanted to be friends with him, just because of his father oh well, is his father. Sometimes Warlock wished that Nanny and Brother Francis would have taken him along with them. He watched the small cottages, sighing heavily, their inhabitants tending to their gardens or doing something equally domestic. He missed his Nanny and the Gardner terribly. They went away when he turned 8 years old, although they were just a tad bit weird, the boy loved them and still did, even if he didn’t know what have happened to them but he did what Brother Francis told him to do everyday and sometimes Nanny would do to: Pray. He prayed every night. he aleays asked for the same thing over and over.

‘Please dear Lord, let me find Nanny and Brother Francis again. I`ve been so good lately’

He would say eyes tight shut, kneeling in front of his bed, his hands joined. Praying with all his heart.

When the bus stopped for full five minutes in front of the last cottage at the end of the road something caught his eyes. The garden so well taken care of , the peonies shining bright even on the British autumn, the bushes surrounding the small walls were very verdant. Then he saw a tall, lean person with medium length red hair, talking with a boy, the boys’ curly hair bouncing a little while he helped the lean person. Sunglasses, dark clothes. Warlock´s heart stopped and raced altogether. Nanny. Nanny Ashtoreth was right in front of him, living in South Downs. The boy got up and ran down the bus corridor. after menacing his teachers and the bus driver with his father’s influence, he stepped outside the bus running into the small garden to his Nannie´s arms.

‘Nanny !!!!’ He screamed wrapping his arms around Crowley´s lithe waist making the demon puff some air out of his lungs and look down in confusion to the teen who was hugging him tightly shaking in his arms. Adam watched the scene a little confused. Who is this boy that just ran in and hugged Mr.Crowley ?

‘Adam call Aziraphale here, please’ the demon said, wrapping his arms around Warlock´s shoulders, kissing his hair. Adam only obeyed still casting confused glances

‘Hello little one’

‘I found you, nanny ! I found you…’ the boy chanted through tears, soaking Crowley´s shirt making the ginger smile a little ‘…..I found you, I can´t believe I finally found you….I´m never gonna let you go again nanny. Ever !!’

‘Oh dear….’ Aziraphale said when he was closer to them, smiling fondly. The angel got worried when an angry teacher walked through their garden.

‘Warlock Dowling go back inside that bus right now or I will call your father’

‘No’ the boy answered defiantly, squeezing Crowley on his arms ‘Tell him Nanny, tell him that dad never answers the phone…’ the boy said making the teacher arch an eyebrow at the nanny. ‘Do a magic trick nanny, please. I know you can do magic tricks, like the ones you did when I was a kid…To make him shush’ the boy said and the demon looked helplessly at his husband. Aziraphale chuckled at seeing his husband so helpless and so happy, the angel talked to the teacher making a little miracle, so the teacher would remember to pick up Warlock at the end of the day.

***

Warlock stared at Aziraphale in confusion. He was sitting on their kitchen table. Nanny at his side, the man he knew be Brother Francis and the blonde boy watching him. A mug of cocoa and biscuits in the middle of the table. The blonde boy, Adam, he recalled seemed very amused.

‘So you are Brother Francis ?’ Warlock asked, fidgeting with his mug.

‘Yes’ the blonde man answered ‘But my actual name is Aziraphale’

‘And you are married to Nanny ?’ Az laughed getting a little flustered.

‘Yes, Warlock’

‘And you are also a magician ?’

‘That too’ The boy made a small noise of acknowledgement, nodding, his hair falling on his face, still fidgeting with his mug ‘Why did you leave ?’

‘Our contract ended, little one’ Crowley answered, reaching for the teen´s hand and giving it a squeeze. The demon could not bear the hurt in Warlock´s blue eyes ‘We didn´t leave you on purpose, you see, Az and I, we used to work to opposite companies and if they knew we were friends, and we liked you, they would make us do bad things to each other’

To Warlock´s surprise Adam laughed and said in a rush, his eyes sparkling in delight :

‘Mr.Crowley and Mr. Fell are an angel and a demon, we know a witch! An actual witch! I´m the antichrist, my friends are the horsepersons and we defeated my father, the devil itself. Three years ago’ Adam finished excited.

‘Adam !!” Aziraphale and Crowley screamed at the same time. Making the boy laugh harder and shrug.

‘You don´t have to hide anymore’ Adam said. Warlock chuckled, despite the boy´s words.

‘Is that true, nanny ?’ Defeated the angel and the demon sighed.

‘Yes Warlock, it´s true’ The boy beamed excited that his Nanny and Mr.Fell are magical beings as he knew they were. He never brought it up, but once when he was 7 he saw Nanny conjuring his cocoa and biscuits.

‘I knew it !!’ Warlock said excited. He was so happy right now.

‘Well, Adam why don´t you go and show Warlock what you can do and tell him our little adventure while Crowley and I clean this mess, huh ?’ Aziraphale suggested cheerfully ‘And remember Adam…’

‘Nothing too big, I know Mr.Fell’ Adam said and grabbed Warlock´s hand taking him back to the garden. Warlock was mesmerised at seeing what Adam could do, amazed by the stories about the Them, he was delighted when Nanny and Mr.Fell joined them half an hour later showing him actual nice tricks, conjuring up sandwiches. He couldn´t wait to meet Adam´s friends, and come back to Nanny´s and Mr. Fell house again. He felt so loved here and so, so happy. At six o´clock, Warlock´s school bus stopped in front of the cottage.

‘Already Nanny ?’ the boy asked sad

‘You must go home, little one. You can come here whenever you want to now, I put mine and the angel´s number on your phone, didn´t I ?’ The boy nodded, small tears on his eyes.

‘You aren’t going to leave again, are you nanny ?’ Crowley hugged the boy and kissed his hair

‘Never’ Aziraphale hugged him too and cleaned his tears

‘Don´t cry, love’ The angel said ‘We will always be here and you can go and visit Adam in Tadfield, right Adam ?’

‘Right’ Adam said

‘And remember, you can’t tell anyone about our powers, okay ?’ Crowley reminded him and let go of him. Warlock headed back to the bus, after giving everyone an extra hug and was happy that nobody seemed to miss him or care if he was back there or not. He sat on his place again and put his earphone again, watching Nanny, Mr.Fell and Adam waving him goodbye.

As a promised Nanny and Mr.Fell never moved. Warlock cried a little in happiness when he found that they were still in their place on his second visit, which happened on Saturday, this time the Them were there. They spent the whole afternoon making plans of how much they could change the world, their world, eating magical sandwiches and helping Nanny scream at the peonies .Warlock never wanted to leave.

#warlock #aziraphale x crowley #Aziraphale #crowley #adam #the them #good omens #fluff #just fluff #my fic #silly stuff

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georgiadixon · 5 years

Text

animal

pairing: michael langdon x reader

request: “Plsss write something fluffy. I dont care what it is about, i just need a Michael that is LOVED” - @gelukstraan

warnings: fluff, sex, blood, death, gore, lots of crying… just all of it lads. gets kinda creepy towards the end.

summary: your love story with the devil, as told by animal by troye sivan

word count: 1926 ! it’s a longer one boyz !

a/n: i promise this was meant to be just pure fluff but idk my hands slipped. thanks for reading, liking, and reblogging! it means so much to me. pls feel free to message me about whatever, and leave requests if you want to! ♡

my masterlist is in my bio! :)

i told you something safe

something i’ve never said before

and i can't keep my hands off you

“i love you.” michael whispered, your head in his lap. the hint of a smile appeared on your face as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek. your eyes wandered upwards to meet his gaze, threatening to get lost in everything his soul held.

your demons chanted, telling you this was the devil. but you thought, how could that be? how could this beautiful boy with the softest blonde curls be anything but pure at heart? when you learned who michael really was, you knew you should have been scared. but something in you had always trusted him to the point where you’d give up your life for him. you knew you’d follow him anywhere.

“you know i’d never hurt you, right?” michael spoke as if he heard your thoughts. you nodded and whispered back to him “i know.” but his eyes still held true concern. the look on his face made your heart break. you sat up in his lap so your legs were on either side of his hips then wrapped your hands around his neck. his hands went instinctively to your lower back, rubbing up and down. you smiled empathetically as you put your foreheads together. “i trust you, michael. i know you’d never let anything happen to me.” “never.” he retorted, voice lower than usual. your eyebrows raised slightly until he spoke again. “nothing will ever happen to you, baby. not when i’m around.” your heart swelled at his words and you wondered what you ever did to deserve his love. you held back tears as you moved his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead. you continued to leave kisses all over his face before finally meeting his lips. michael’s grip on your hips tightened as you moved your hands to hold his face, drowning in each other’s warmth.

while you lie in the wake

covered all in the night before

i’m high, no one's got me quite like you

the boy you loved held you as you slept, though he was far away from his own sleep. his gaze wandered all over your resting figure. he thought you were perfect. every inch, every curve, every crevice fascinated him to no end and he knew that he would do whatever it took to have you by his side forever. he had loved before. but never had he felt this much love and admiration for a single being and have those feelings returned just the same. you challenged everything that michael had ever believed in and gave him one reason to accept that humanity was capable of creating something worthwhile

he traced your skin tenderly, stopping at any mark he came upon. some given to you when you came into the world, and some given to you by the boy wonder who found his way into your body in the depths of the night. this was how it started. secret rendezvous where he held your hand as you found a place together to call yours. he never meant to get attached or to care past the night. everything was telling him that this wouldn’t last, and you didn’t deserve to have your heart broken when you found out the truth about him. but the one night you asked him to stay, he couldn’t say no. that next morning was when he knew he loved you, truly and fully. it was then when he realized he had fallen for you, and he would go through everything and everyone to ensure that you were alongside him for eternity.

i want you all to myself

don’t leave none for nobody else

i am an animal with you

the first nights you spent with michael were perfect. he was charming, always finding the right words to make your heart skip a beat. you didn’t know what was going to happen when he went through the tests given to him by your supreme, but you knew that you loved him and you didn’t want to live without him. then he was told to descend into hell, and something left your body as he did. as you sat on the floor and awaited michael’s return, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all worth it. if betraying your coven was worth the pain and agony that came along with loving the antichrist. you looked towards your sisters and knew that if you chose to be with michael, they wouldn’t want anything to do with you. they would cast you out. everything you had ever known in your whole life would be taken away the second you showed any sign of betrayal. you knew this, yet when michael resurrected, you ran to the devil, giving in. that was the moment he became your everything. now when you’re lying next to him, all you see is your forever, your purpose.

you woke up to an empty bed. you frowned at the cold air that hit your skin while sitting up and letting the blankets fall off of you. you looked at the clock and saw it was half past two. you groaned at the early hour and attempted to rub sleep from your eyes. just as you began to wonder where michael could have gone at this hour, it hit you. call it lover’s intuition.

that was when you heard the screams.

it took you a moment to react, as only one thing was echoing through your mind. michael.

no angels could beckon me back

and it's hotter than hell where i’m at

i am an animal with you

you ran as fast as you could towards the horrific sounds. you didn’t have time to process what was happening before you slipped on the blood covered floor and fell head first onto the hardwood. you groaned as you sat up and held your head. as your eyes became adjusted to the light, you gasped in shock of the sight before you.

every witch, slaughtered. their lifeless bodies were scattered around the room. you grew sick looking into the faces of the girls you once knew as sisters. you couldn’t begin to try and understand the meaning of this. and then you remembered.

on cue, you heard a faint whimper coming from the corner of the room. you just noticed there was still life among you. it was him. your boy, you thought. covered in blood. hunched over in pain as blood ran out of his body at a relentless rate. they must have tried to kill him before he slaughtered them all.

you shrieked and ran over to him, crying out for help. you felt a hand reach out for you. you wanted to just hold him close and let him know everything would be ok, but you didn’t know that. you were trying to stop the blood, to buy you some time but his wound was past the point of healing and you knew no one was coming.

you sat back and began to sob, holding his head in your hands. “michael.” you choked out, looking into his eyes. you could tell he was fighting to stay awake.

“don’t cry, angel.” he smiled up at you. “i’m alright.” he said clearly, but after started to cough, blood spilling from his mouth. you winced at the sight, feeling completely helpless. michael was always the strong one. he was always the one to lead the way, to take your hand and bring you to exactly where you needed to be. but without him to guide you, you were helpless.

“what can i do? i-” you shook your head. “how can i help you? michael, please. tell me what to do.” you rested your forehead against his, your tears hitting his face. you felt defeated. your entire world was crumbling down around you. but in the midst of all your hopelessness, the boy who you dedicated your life to just looked at you, brought his hand to your cheek, and smiled. “i love you, y/n. i’ll see you soon.”

all you could do was cry for him, cry for your boy wonder. cry and pray to whoever finds him that he’ll be taken care of.

an ode to the boy i love

boy, i’ll die to care for you

you’re mine, tell me who do i owe that to?

you were holding michael when his soul left his body. his eyes rolled back to his head as “father.” left his lips, and you knew he was in hell. you laid against his body, trying to feel whatever was left of him. but there was nothing. he didn’t even look like himself to you anymore, almost like you were betraying him by holding his body and not his soul. you closed your eyes and an intense wave of dark energy overtook you. your body started to shake and you screamed out in pain. you had lost all control of your senses. your vision went black, and then you felt him. you felt michael in your bones, trying to pull you under. you knew death seemed like something that you shouldn’t face for a boy, but you had made a vow to yourself and him that you would follow him anywhere. and you meant it.

and as the days fly by

we’ll be more than getting through

and in time, we'll build a home for two

everything around you was black. your body felt like it was on fire, yet you felt at peace. you felt as if everything in your life had lead you to this moment.

loud chimes began to ring from above you as a path of light appeared before your feet. as you slowly followed the path, vines grew from all around you. time didn’t seem to have significance anymore, and you didn’t think it ever would again. the only thing that would ever matter was the sight now before you. millions bowing down to your towering frame. on earth you were small, you were shy and ignorant. but here, you were a goddess with unlimited power who would rule hell forever alongside your king.

michael grabbed your hand and smiled at you. you smiled back, happy to be with him again. “i told you i’d see you soon. what were all those tears for? i started to think you were doubting me.” he spoke with such confidence and a light beaming from his eyes that you had never seen before. he was happy.

your smile grew as you grabbed onto his shoulders to kiss him deeply. he returned the kiss with more passion and held you close. you pulled back to say “i never doubted you. i was just so scared, i mean, you were so far away and-” michael cut you off and crashed his lips back to yours. he looked deep into your eyes and brought a serious look to his face. “we’re together now. and together we’ll stay. for eternity.” you nodded. the force that connected you two together was stronger than it had ever been before, and you were filled with so much content you swore your heart could burst. michael pulled back and brought you to his chest so he could rest his chin on your head. and with strokes to your back and a kiss to your head, he spoke the words that settled any and all things that had ever tried to keep you apart. “welcome home, my queen.”

my masterlist is in my bio! :)

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charnamefic · 5 years

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Once again, there’s a transcript below the cut.

Halfway down the hill the bundle began to cry: the air-raid siren wail of the newly born. High. Wordless. And old.

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

There was something deeply unfair about being an Earthbound demon, Crawleigh reflected, as he started the 2CV and clunked it down the waterlogged country road. From what he could see, most people, ordinary human people, seemed to do far better than he did when it came to adding to the sum total of human misery.

He gripped the wheel miserably. Where He’d gone wrong, of course well, of course, He went wrong all the time, it was His job. Where He’d gone particularly wrong was in making Crawleigh human. It subjected you to all kinds of little pressures, no wonder most of them were several coupons short of a toaster, you ended up feeling sorry for them, the poor bastards.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ruin the lives and souls of strangers; it was just that after he’d given them nice cups of tea and homemade cakes, and listened to their problems and helped them balance their cheque books, and got their kittens down from trees, there simply wasn’t the time.

The road to heaven, he would reflect gloomily, is paved with bad intentions, and resolve to break his ways. Starting, well, tomorrow. Probably.

He stuck out his chin. Enough of that. No more messing

about. From now on he was going to be bad. Worse than Michael Jackson. The thought turned his mind to something better in the way of in-car entertainment than the sloshing of the windscreen wipers. The radio would do nothing except crackle in Danish, so he fumbled for a cassette and pushed it into the slot.

It was The Best of Queen. It always was. Crawleigh suspected that any tape left in a car for more than a fortnight metamorphosed into a Best of Queen album.

He nearly stopped for a hitchhiker; but at the last moment he remembered the child asleep on the back seat, and sped past the woman hitching by the side of the road, drenching her. Pride and embarrassment struggled within him. Pride won. One of the windscreen wipers was swept away by the rain.

The tape was bleating about someone who kept Moet and Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Crawleigh, in that dreamlike state that afflicts all car drivers in the pouring rain at night, found himself wondering who Moet and Chandon were.

And then he wasn’t. Suddenly Freddy Mercury’s voice was talking to Crawleigh.

WE ARE RELYING ON YOU, it said. DO NOT FAIL US, CRAWLEIGH.

“No, Lord.”

NO...WHAT DID WE DO TO YOU AFTER THE ATLANTIS DEBACLE? REMIND US.

“Half an aeon, O Master of the Nine Hells, partially dismembered, suspended in the flaming cesspits of Abbadon. There were internal stoats in there somewhere as well. And after that l was Earthbound until further notice.”

YESSSSS. WE TELL YOU THIS, CRAWLEIGH: LISTEN WELL: IF ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL GOES WRONG WITH THIS VENTURE YOU WON’T FIND US ANYWHERE NEARLY SO LENIENT. GOT THAT?

Crawleigh shook in his seat. He nodded violently.

GOOD. I see a little silhouetto of a man scaramouche scaramouche will you do the fandango...

A hole in the sunroof chose this moment to make its presence felt. The rain dripped onto Crawleigh’s head. He didn’t care. All he had to do tonight was to swap over two babies. What could be simpler than that?

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

The maternity hospital was fairly quiet, if you didn’t count the screams of women in labour.

Mr Brown knew what his role in the actual physical action of having babies ought to be. He should be pacing the corridors, puffing nervously on his pipe, making small talk with the other fathers. Then a matronly nurse with a twinkling eye would pop her head around the door and say Mister Brown? It’s a boy or a girl, or twins, or something

and he would hand around the cigars he had bought for the occasion, congratulate Deirdre, and go off and get stinking drunk. He‘d done it twice before, and you soon got the hang of it. It was like shelling peas.

The No Smoking sign was the first hurdle. Deirdre was the second. Mister Brown blamed Woman’s Hour.

He felt strongly that it wasn’t his place to sit next to Deirdre and exhort her to breathe. She knew how to breathe. He was pretty sure about that. He had done his bit nine months earlier when a power cut had sent them to bed earlier than planned, and he didn’t see why he needed to go to classes on ‘Constructive coparenting’ at his time of life. And he didn’t see why he had to tell Deirdre to do something she’d been doing for years. And what was he meant to do with the cigars?

It wasn’t like this in the old days.

In the old days Deirdre had done little more than bustle around the house arranging flowers, with occasional spurts of shopping thrown in to liven up the day before the Women’s Institute meeting. Then one morning he had come down to breakfast to discover Deirdre in a smock that would have not looked out of place on a Nativity play shepherd, if the actor playing the shepherd was five foot eight and was the kind of Shepherd who had a NUCLEAR POWER NO THANKS badge pinned to the right hand side of his bosom. And there was muesli. Not kippers. Not sausages. Bacon was right out. Bacon was practically the Eighth Deadly Sin. From that day

forward it had been muesli all the way. And Mrs Brown’s confinement had been mystically transformed into the most joyous and sharing experience that two people can have.

Well, he hadn’t got anything against joyous sharing experiences. Here’s to joyous sharing experiences. Joyous sharing experiences were all right by him. It just that, as far as he was concerned, Deirdre could have this joyous sharing experience by herself. He’d sidled out of the labour room, and was now huddled by a service entrance puffing at his pipe. He was sheltered from the rain, but not from the cold or the wind.

He shivered. It happened to them at a certain age. Your father never warned you about it. Suddenly they started ordering their own newspaper, the sort with pages with names like Lifestyle and Options. They started to join things, and did these robotic exercises in pink socks with the feet cut out. They started to blame you for not having had to work for a living for twenty-five years. It was hormones, or something.

A Citroen 2CV drew up by the dustbins. The young man who got out was wearing a raincoat and carrying a large bundle. He ran across the car park getting wetter with each step. When he reached the service entrance Mr Brown said, “You’ve left your lights on.”

“Damn. It’s supposed to have this thing that bleeps. Here, hold this.” He thrust the bundle into Mr Brown’s arms and dashed back across the car park to wrestle with the car's

door and lighting system. Mr Brown was surprised to find that the bundle seemed to be a small carrycot, with a cover over it.

From the weight there was a baby in the carrycot. Strange, thought Mr Brown, most people take babies away from Maternity Hospitals...

“Thanks,” said the young man in the raincoat, who was by now soaked through. He took back the bundle and winked. “Is it happening yet?” he asked.

Deep in the leather armchair of his soul Mr Brown felt vaguely proud to be so instantly recognisable as a parent.

“Yes,” he admitted, “She’s in labour, if that’s what you mean.

“Already? Any idea how long we’ve got to go?”

We? Obviously a Doctor With ideas about coparenting. “Not long now,” said Mister Brown, “She was, uh, doing it when I had to pop out...” He gestured vaguely with his pipe to indicate pressing calls of nature.

“Shaitan! Now? Why didn’t you say so?” Crawleigh shouldered his burden of waterproofed carrycot and headed for the green swing door. “Oh blast I’ve forgotten. What room’s she in?”

“Room Three,” said Mr Brown “It’s at the top of the stairs.” He fumbled in his pocket for the packet. “Would you like to share a cigar experience?” he called, but Crawleigh was already running through the doors. Mr Brown sighed,

and put the cigars away. Then he returned to his pipe.

It had gone out.

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

If you have ever watched a slick stage magician perform a three-card trick, or been hustled by a respectable gentleman with a pea and three shells, you will know the ease and dizzying slickness with which three similar objects can be swapped, exchanged and transferred from place to place, so that you lose any knowledge of which was where to start with.

This was nothing like that, although the principle is sort of the same.

Watch carefully. We will stop the action:

Mrs Brown is giving birth in Maternity Room Three. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby A.

The wife of the American Ambassador, Mrs Harriet Dowling, is giving birth in Maternity Room Four. She is having a dark-haired male baby we will call baby B.

Nurse Hodges is a devout Satanist. As a child she went to Sabbat School regular as prunes, and although she won several black stars for things like handwriting and liver she was never particularly bright. She is being handed a dark-haired male baby we will call The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is

called Dragon, Prince of this World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness.

There. Got it? Ok, roll ‘em:

“Is that him?” said Nurse Hodges, staring at the baby. “Only I’d expected maybe funny eyes. Or teensyweensy little hoofikins. Or a widdle tail.” She turned him round as she spoke. No horns either. The devil’s child looked ominously normal.

“Yes, it’s him,” sighed Crawleigh.

“Well, I knew it must be, what with you saying he was and all. Coo. Fancy. Me holding the Antichrist. Me bathing the Antichrist. Wiping his little botty and tickling his little toesywoeses...”

She appeared quite carried away, and was now addressing the child. Crawleigh waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Nurse Hodges?”

“Sorry, sir. He is a little sweetheart. Do you think he looks like his dad? I bet he does. I bet he looks like his daddywaddykins...”

Crawleigh sighed. “She’s in maternity room three, and she may already have had the baby. Be on standby I want the exchange made as soon as is possible. Got it?”

“OOO’s a widdledumpydumpywumpyden? OOOOOOOOOO’s a widdlerumpypumpydumpyden? Room three is it, sir? Righty-ho.”

#william the antichrist #good omens #Definitive Good Omens #ineffable edition #transcript #the bentley #has come so far #from such humble origins #Mr Young > Mr Brown #tfw when you type internal and go back and fix it to infernal and then have to go back and fix it back to internal again #I made an effort to get the page number in each picture but still messed it up for page 14 #stuff I made

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durzarya · 5 years

Text

HP x Good Omens crossover part 2

So here is part two as I promised

You can find part one here: (1)

So Harry goes home, and he has so many things to say, because yeah he wrote letters, but it’s not the same

He starts to tell everything about the whole mystery, about the Stone and how he faced Voldemort again, how he killed a man, and how he might be responsible for another two deaths, and dad please save them please

After the first panic, because their son’s life was in danger, Crowley realizes that he actually knows the Flamels, but like from the 15th century, they were one of the few people who know about him being a demon, he never wanted them to die

And apparently they invented immortality, which is, what even are humans, and now they are dieing, angel we are doing something

This is how a couple around their 50s move into the house next door. Dumbledore baffled by their choice comes to visit. Aziraphale being a good neighbor invites them for tea, Crowley does not want the headmaster in his house, because he couldn’t protect his son, but loses the argument

Aziraphale: “It’s nice to have so many young people at the house!” Nicholas: “You are doing quite well for you age too!”

Dumbledore is so confused, Crowley never loved more his bastard of am angel

It should be a gloomy summer, because it’s supposed to be the last, but Adam wants sun and fun, and the world listens to him as always

the Flamels start making another stone, the Them want to hear everything about Hogwarts and sometimes Hermione and the Weasleys come over for fun (Draco too, but never at the same time as the others, he has an image)

Ginny still has a crush on Harry, it goes away quickly after an afternoon with Pepper

They become friends, it’s terrifying

Soon it’s time for Harry’s and Adam’s birthday and all of their friends are staying over the house (even Draco, come on it’s important!)

It’s a two-day celebration, as usual and the second day arrives Dog, the hellhound and the whispering starts

Crowley and Aziraphale are worried for Adam and Harry of course, they would let the world burn if it would mean the two would live

But this time Adam knows, that he is the Antichrist, he knows what the voices want, and he knows what he wants and he could rebuild a world from the ashes, but he likes this one. They already have plans how to make it better (at least Pepper and Wensleydale knows, and Brian likes helping people, and he would do anything for them, for his own little paradise here)

Anathema moves into the cottage and starts searching for the young Beast and the lesser Beast, instead she finds a bunch of weird people and a handful of sweet kids, she accidentally leaves her book in the Crowley-Fell house (the four immortal read it on a single night)

The first time they hear about her, there is a debate between the kids if Anathema is a witch, a witch or a witch (the first one being a someone without any actual powers just knowledge about things others don’t, the second being someone with power but not the same as Harry has, and the third one being a normal Hogwarts student)

Soon they start talking about the history of witch burning and how many innocents were executed end up with how higher authorities manipulate education

This is the first time Anathema meets and promptly invites them to her newly rented cottage, brilliant young minds need to be cared for, after all

It’s almost the same, but this time Adam doesn’t go mad, Anathema gets her book back sooner and slightly more people face off the combined forces of heaven and hell (the Bentley still ends up in fire and three still ride the sky as two)

The Them face off the horsemen Beelzebub and Gabriel arrive and there is a bunch of people they never met, and they aren’t afraid until the Flamels start threatening with immortality (humans never dieing, this way heaven and hell won’t have their soul)

They summon Lucifer too, and he is angry up until the point his son calls the Serpent of Eden father, and now he is intrigued, still a little scare never hurt anyone

The Devil firmly back in hell, or at least for now, angels and demons terrified and humanity alive Adam and the Them finally get their Hogwarts letters

Dumbledore delivers them personally again this time with Severus at his side, because a) neither were on the list until today and b) he needs to know what’s happening with this family

“No Albus he is not Lily’s brother!” “I could be, professssor.”

Crowley loves causing chaos, thank you very much

They go to the Diagon Alley again and Adam receives a black talking diary, with Draco frantically singing behind his back not to write in it

He doesn’t listen, because there is something tugging at him, instinct telling him to do it, he wouldn’t do it, but they are not the same voices that asked for the world ending, it’s more like him knowing he would get a dog

Tom Denem is fifteen and half a soul and he is delighted he finally has someone both to talk and manipulate, fifty years is long time alone

He tries to take Adam’s magic, a tiny bit, just enough to give him a way for later, for possessing for taking more

Except he is Adam, and he is powerful and protected and he ignored voices more powerful than a whisper, so when he takes a tiny bit of his magic… he pops into existence

The following family meeting is awkward, especially after they figure out that the boy is Voldemort, the man who killed Harry’s parents and tried it again a few months ago

And yeah he is Voldemort, or he is going to be, for now he is a power hungry fifteen year old horcrux made by both accident and opportunity, he didn’t commit all those horrible things

Adam has an idea, if he is half a soul, why shouldn’t he make it whole again? He knows what he feels like, he can wish the other pieces here

This is the point where the rest of the them arrive so while he does his thing there is another round do explanation

Pepper threatens the former/future dark lord with death by fire if he hurts anyone she loves, Tom decides this is the weirdest thing ever happened to him, and he found out he was heir of Slytherin

Adam summons all the pieces except for the one that is Voldemort’s ghost, and everyone has a fright when a shiny snakelike child comes from Harry wailing and crying (it’s Aziraphale who calms it down with a shushing parseltongue)

Tom has the other half of his soul laid out on the table, and the strange, powerful boy is inspecting it. He tries not to feel judged

Adam is confused, all these little parts and they don’t seem to fit together, and he can make souls and bodies from nothing, Atlantis and his father is living example for that, but repairing something is harder than making it new even if it’s worth it

He can’t make these for, but the soul that matters not the thing that holds it. It doesn’t take long for all the parts to transform into little puzzle pieces

It’s a 3D one with 128 parts and finally he can do this

The Them help too and it’s weird, because it’s something obscure with no help or instructions, but they can know where the parts supposed to go

And every time Brian puts a piece to it’s place, Tom can feel his thoughts becoming clearer, when Wensleydale does it, the power hunger in him eases and Pepper makes him feel at peace and Adam gives him a will to be alive not just live until the end of the times

It’s almost done, his soul is now in four pieces, but one is missing, the same one that holds ghost Voldemort and that’s the most important one

Because taking the soul apart is dark, but not random, even when it happens spontaneously the magic chops down a part of the soul (every time taking something from you), but the core remains, and Tom doesn’t have that

But Adam is the Antichrist, he can make souls and bodies and reality bends for him, this will be more difficult because the piece needs to fit, to hold the four part together

And he can do many things, he invents the best games and he doesn’t listens to authority. Imagination and free will, all human traits

But Adam also loves

He loves strong enough to stand up against the combined forces of heaven and hell and choose earth. All the love he ever felt he learned from his family, from this tiny village and friends

Tom has imagination and free will, but Adam has seen his soul and he couldn’t find an ounce of love here. So maybe if he shares his it will be strong enough to hold a soul, to heal one really

And suddenly the last puzzle piece is there fitting perfectly and Tom doesn’t know this warm fierce feeling, but he knows he won’t be able to ever give it up

Everyone is exhausted and after tucking the children in (“Yes Tom, you too!”) an angel and a demon decide they can have another kid

The next day Tom Fell officially arrives, after his father’s early departure from the living

Two days later Dumbledore shows up again with another surprise letter this time for a fifth year student (all of the other letters were sent already, why do magical people just keep popping up in this place??)

He almost has a heart attack when he sees Tom Riddle sitting at the breakfast table eating cereal

After an accusation, a dressing down and an apology (“How dare you, headmaster! That’s my cousin, he just lost his only living parent!”), Dumbledore leaves more confused than before

Everyone still speaks parseltongue in the family

Tom can’t wait for the upcoming year

Yeah I think I will finish here, and I will add some random headcanons later, because there are some more but nothing like this

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spootiliousrps · 5 years

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Satan!Crowley (Though my partner didn’t seem to like it much :/)

Stranger: (Very much au, Crowley is Satan. Will be explained, don’t worry he’s not evil. Based after the fact that it's fairly well accepted that the snake was actually the Devil) When mother had told him of her plans for humans Samael had been curious to meet her latest creations, until she’d told him of her plans for them, of free will and the tests and trials she would put them through. He’d argued with her then, for the first time he had argued. And she’d told him how he would have his own role to play. When she'd told him what that role to be he was horrified, angry. He'd argued and argued with her, pleaded when that failed, refused. But then she'd shown him what would happen if he didn't. There was already unrest among some of the Angels, who didn't like their mother focusing so much on her latest project, who were jealous. And if they didn't have a leader in their rebellion it would be chaos. Random reckless outbreaks of fighting, more and more of the host falling when they grew resentful as to why mother hadn't stopped it, until the world would be black and barren. Samael had hated her for that, but he'd done what he had to. He'd rebelled, became the leader and took control, until it was an actual war, and he was cast down and burned for it. The only one who knew the truth about his reasons was his closest friend and most trusted regent and general Azazel. Once he got things in order things had already started on Earth, and mother had told him it was time for the first test. That he needed to tempt Eve. And... well Samael didn't have any problem with that. The chance to choose... well he'd wished he'd been given that. And then he'd met Aziraphale, and he'd decided to stay on Earth, taking on the persona of a lesser Demon, choosing the name Crowley, leaving Azazel as his regent, his ally telling the legions of hell that he was sequestered away, planning and preparing for the future war. And he enjoyed his time on Earth, learned to love Humans, and a certain Angel. Then after so long Mother had sent word that he needed to create the Antichrist. So he had, even if he took no pleasure in it. And he'd delivered the baby and went to Aziraphale, and they'd come up with their plan, had sent people to influence his son, his Angel doing the same, and he'd reached out for his son in his dreams, nothing evil, just telling him that he loved him, that he could be the best of them, and all the while he stayed away from seeing his son in person, he couldn't risk anything going wrong couldn't risk his son getting hurt, and he tried to ignore that worried feeling, that something wasn't quite right with Warlock-and really that was a terrible name. And then he'd s een the boy at his eleventh birthday and he'd felt horror. That wasn't his son. He'd lost his son-oh he knew it was his son he'd spoke to in his dreams. But he had no idea where the boy was, physically. And he longed to tell Aziraphale why he was so panicked, but the long lie was too deep now. He didn't want to lose his Angel, and he was terrified he would if he told Aziraphale the truth. And then the end hadn't come, and they were in Tadfield, and he resisted the urge to snort when Beelzebub said that she was going to tell Adam's-and that name he definitely approved of- father. And then the Demon and Gabriel were gone and Crowley relaxed, running his fingers through his hair, “Well Angel.” he gave Aziraphale and smile, “I think that went very well.” his eyes flicked to Adam, who was stood watching him, a curious look on his face. “A-” he groaned when the ground shook and Azazel rose out of the dirt, looking thoroughly annoyed. “CROWLEY!” and Crowley winced. “Azazel! Good to see you-” “I just had Beelzebub screaming at me about you and the Antichrist!”

You: [Reading]

You: Aziraphale wobbled as the ground shook beneath them, trying to keep his balance. As soon as he gained his footing he moved to the young boy's side protectively as the giant Demon appeared before them. His heart was racing as he raised his sword, terrified, not for himself but for the potential of losing those he cared about. Adam was only a recent addition but he was an Angel, capable of immeasurable love. Adam /was/ loved. His gaze turned towards the red haired Demon, the man he was truly scared for. Satan could destroy Crowley with just a thought he was sure. There would be nothing he could do... Still, he refused to give up, standing tall as the Devil snapped at his oldest and dearest friend, ready to strike with whatever strength he could muster.

Stranger: "Yeah, yeah." Crowley rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I bet that pain in the arse did. Let me guess, he told you that you needed to inform the big boss." "DO you have any idea how hard it was to keep a bloody straight face Crowley?" Azazel demanded, "Hell is in chaos right now-" "Eh I'm evil I thrive on chaos, let those idiots suffer for a little while." he waved a hand dismissively, "And drop the Devil guise Azazel, we both know it doesn't suit you." honestly it didn't suit him either, and he watched amused as Azazel's form shrunk, and he became almost like a normal demon. "You know sometimes I really regret offering to help you." he grumbled, eyes flicking towards Aziraphale and Adam. "Ah, that would be the Angel you stayed on Earth for even if you pretended he had nothing to do with it and-ah. That must be the young master." "Adam." Crowley answered proudly, "He decided to stop it." "Yeah." Adam nodded, "I like the world. I haven't seen all of it yet why would I destroy it?"

You: Confusion flashed over Aziraphale's features at the exchange, his sword slowly lowering as Crowley approached the other Demon. It was obvious that Crowley didn't see any threat which put the Angel at ease... a bit... Still something didn't add up. His gaze narrowed as he glanced between the two trying to connect all the pieces. When Adam spoke Aziraphale glanced back at the boy and offered a proud smile, straightening his vest as if to emphasis how pleased he was. At least... Until the mention of himself had him snapping to attention once more, moving forward to stand next to the red head. "What in Heaven's name is going on here Crowley?" He asked softly, though his tone hinted he was half way between concerned and annoyed. He eyed Azazel apprehensively as if he would suddenly jump out and bite him; and to be honest the Angel wasn't quite convinced he wouldn't.

Stranger: Crowley suddenly looked incredibly sheepish, which made Azazel smirk almost gleefully, "Oh Crowley don't tell me you've not-" "Azazel please don't." Crowley groaned, "Please I don't want to ruin-" "Crowley keeping up the lie is what will ruin things." he stated exasperatedly, "Are-are you scared you'll scare your precious Angel off is that it?" Azazel focused on Aziraphale before shrugging "If he's half the Angel you seem to think he is then he'll come around, he'll be pissed but he'll understand eventually." "Azazel now is definitely not the time for this discussion-" "Oh come on! The only reason you rebelled is because she told you to. You're not like the others you should have never fallen Crowley, you're an idiot in love who's terrified."

You: Aziraphale blinked at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he ran a hand down his lapels. "An idiot in love?" He mumbled, giving a small scoff. "Nonsense, you never told me of any love." He inquired, giving his friend a pointed look, obviously too oblivious to connect the words to himself. He paused only for a moment before shaking his head and waving a hand in the air. "It doesn't matter. The subject is highly inappropriate at the moment." He added with a huff, trying to ignore the jealousy that was rising in him. The few words that Azazel had already spoke contained a lot of information to process and yet... Not nearly enough. A

You: [sorry wasn't done]

You: Crowley was hiding something from him? Something that could ruin their friendship? Nonsense, nothing could do that... Could it? No. Aziraphale was certain of it. "I demand to know whats going on." He snapped, his voice commanding and unwavering. "I don't care who tells me. Just tell me." He demanded.

Stranger: Crowley didn't look at Aziraphale, and it was Adam who spoke up, tilting his head, "You're him aren't you?" he asked, "I can see it. You were so bright once... and you're hurt and angry but you still love humans... you love us." he paused, "and me. My dreams were real." he tilted his head, "You love me more than anything else don't you? You... you didn't raise me but you're my father." Crowley closed his eyes, wincing, "He uh... he's not wrong Angel." his voice was tight, "Before I fell... I never told you.. I didn't exactly lie... I mean... I never claimed to be a lesser demon I just implied as much... I.." he let out a little cough. "My name was Samael, Angel."

You: Aziraphale's attention snapped to the boy as he began; his expression still confused. Slowly, realization began to dawn on him with every word the boy spoke, eyes growing wider and wider until he turned to stare at the Demon before him. Crowley... The man he had entrusted with everything... His friendship... His love... The being he expected would always be there for him even if he pretended that wasn't the case. Tears began to well up, threatening to fall over his usually rose colored cheeks. Everything was a lie... All of it... His brows furrowed, a mixture of betrayal, pain, and confusion contorting his features, a hand moved to cover his mouth in shock as he took a step back from the Demon... No... The Devil himself. The very being he'd been fighting almost his entire existence. Was this all a joke? Poor, poor Aziraphale fighting the very creature he tried to keep so close? Poor, stupid, /angel/. He shook his head as he took another step back and another. "Adam?" He asked softly, voice cracking. "Will you send me back to my shop, please?" He pleaded, forgetting that it had burned.

Stranger: Crowley's eyes widened and he ran his fingers through his hair, "Angel-Angel it burned down-" "I can fix it." Adam spoke up, focusing on Aziraphale and stepping forward, "I'll fix it for you." he paused, "But-will you talk to him later? Please?" he glanced towards Crowley, who had a look similar to a kicked puppy, pained and hurt and desperate. "Lies are bad I know, but I don't think he wanted to hurt you." "I didn't." Crowley stated quickly, "Angel I- I am sorry." he stated quickly, "I am so sorry Angel.. I... when I first met you... it was wonderful. You didn't recognise me... and because you thought I was just a normal Demon you didn't fear me-and you would have feared me when you first met me. Don't deny it Angel. I know what heaven thinks of me. The fallen, the worst of them all." his voice was bitter. "She forced me to do it you know. The choice she gave me was barely a choice at all. You don't know what would have happened had I not taken over the rebellion. She showed me. She told me it was my job."

You: "STOP!" Aziraphale snapped, his voice so loud that the ground beneath them shook just as it had when Azezal appeared. "Stop talking!" He ordered, a holy glow beginning to appear around him. "I don't want to hear anymore lies! I just want to go home!" He added, shooting the Demon a glare even as the tears began. He felt pathetic... used... warped in some way. His hands shook as they fisted at his side, as if he was doing everything in his power not to smite Crowley where he stood... Not that he could, and he certainly didn't /want/ to. Still, when he glanced towards Adam his expression softened, his wrath obviously not directed toward him. "Adam... If you would... please." He asked softly. "I can make no promises, but I will take your request to heart." He reassured.

Stranger: Adam nodded, frowning, and Crowley felt the subtle shift in reality, and then he nodded, "I fixed your bookshop. I'll send you home now. He'll give you a few days to settle down and think things through." "I will." Crowley ducked his head, looking upset, "I really am sorry Aziraphale... and I really, really hope that you'll let me explain in time."

You: Adam earned a soft fond smile at his words. It was nice to see that he had grown to be the boy they had hoped him to be. The smile was gone however, as Crowley spoke once more, causing Aziraphale's jaw to tighten as he pinned the man with a flat stare. "Perhaps it would be preferable if you saved your breath, Samael. Your words are falling on deaf ears." He stated before he felt to world shift as he was sent home.

Stranger: Crowley winced and watched Aziraphale go, before he spent some time with Adam, and after that went down with Azazel, dropping his act and sorting out the chaos downstairs, it took maybe a week or so, and after he returned to Earth, and he was torn. He wanted to see Aziraphale, but... how would he know when his Angel wanted to see him? If he ever did.

You: As soon as he felt the worn wooden floor of his shop beneath him, Aziraphale collapsed, uncontrollable sobs escaping him. He'd been betrayed by the only person in existence he had trusted. How could he have been so stupid?! He should have never trusted a Demon... Especially THAT one. He was a fool. The next few days were spent in solitude, the Angel wallowing in his own sorrow, feeling sorry from himself. Eventually, he had enough of his pathetic nature and got to work. He'd sell what he had copies of or didn't need. He'd pack the rest up and put them in storage. From there... Well... He didn't know. Heaven wouldn't take him now... He supposed he could travel... Maybe visit Atlantis... Or Rome. No... too many memories... America could be nice he suppose... Perhaps Florida... He wasn't sure yet. Regardless, the preparations would take a bit of time, giving him the opportunity to decide.

Stranger: Crowley did eventually pull himself together enough to visit Aziraphale, opening the door to the shop, the small bell making its little familiar jingle as he padded inside, "I uh-" he let out a nervous cough, "It's me Angel. Just-if you want me to leave just yell at me okay? You are here aren't you?" he was stood in the doorway, almost too scared to go in fully, to see his Angels reaction to his presence. This was why he'd hid it for so long. He knew it would destroy things.

You: "We're closed." Aziraphale's voice came from somewhere in the back as the bell chimed. Many of the shelves were already empty leaving the small shop feeling empty and cold. At the sound of the Demon's voice however, the Angel glanced up from where he was packing a box and frowned, his heart rate spiking a bit. For a moment there was silent as he considered doing just as the Demon suggested. Though, eventually he gave a huff, tossing down one of his book with a bit too much force and giving a wince. "I'm back here." He replied loud enough to be heard, tone still a bit harsh. "What do you want?"

Stranger: Crowley was tense, nervous as he heard his Angel's voice, and when he didn't send him away he started to speak, "I know what you and the others all think of me." his voice was tight, "I knew telling you would destroy things... I... I wanted to make what we had last as long as I could before I lost you. Selfish of me I know." he admitted, "I should have told you long ago Angel but I was terrified of losing you." he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, "You know, only Azazel knows why I rebelled. I know the others were always so horrified at how suddenly I turned, decided I was faking all along but that's not true. I-I remember going to mother, to ask about her project, humanity. I loved them you know... I was curious and excited for them... and she told me I'd have my own job... and she told me what it would be. I argued with her. I begged and pleaded and I refused to rebel, even when she told me I must, I said I'd never tempt them. And she showed me what would have happened if the rebels had no leader. Random attacks, brutal and bloody-there was no organisation so Heavens armies couldn't exactly find out plans." he felt like crying as he spoke, remembering how he'd felt. Trapped and lost, betrayed. "And more Angels would have gotten angry and hurt and resentful towards mother for not stopping it-and she wouldn't have. She'd have let it happen to punish me for refusing to do my duty. And Heaven and Earth would have become burnt out husks. I didn't fall because I hated mother, because I wanted to take over or anything like that. I did what I did to save as many as I could... because Mother decided that was how things must be and she always gets what she wants."

You: Aziraphale listened to the words as he worked, moving about the shop, collecting this or that to pack into the box as he went. The words didn't help in the least, if anything they only made his anger worse. Still, he wouldn't interrupt the Demon. He would allow him to say his peace and go before Aziraphale, himself, would. Still... What would it be like without him? He and Crowley had been together for as long as Humanity had existed... Well, practically anyways. Even if they weren't always in the same place they were always there for one another. No! He couldn't afford to think like that. Not now... He was finally gaining enough strength to walk on his own, he wouldn't allow himself to fall again. "I don't care about any of that." He called back with just as much malice. "I don't care to hear any of your stories! They mean nothing!" He countered, still not moving into the main entrance, too afraid to see him. The Angel wasn't fearful /of/ him but rather... The effect he had on him... the pain he caused.

Stranger: "Do you think I'm lying?" Crowley asked, his voice tight, "Is-is that why you're angry... or... or do you just.... do you think I must be evil because I fell... do you believe everything they say about me?" his voice was hurt, "Or is it the lie that hurt you? I-I can understand that... I should have told you a long time ago I just-I feared this Aziraphale... Mother... she didn't just force me out of my home she destroyed me. Destroyed my reputation and broke me down. I had to rebel. I had to kill other Angels who I loved as brothers and sisters, because of her."

You: Pain bloomed in Aziraphale's heart at the words. He understood how difficult it could be to harm those you loved... to strike them down. He had been there during the rebellion. He set his jaw at that, trying to ignore the feeling as he set another book aside and strode out of the room and into the lobby. "Are you really such a fool, to think any of that matters to me?" He spat. "Or perhaps you take /me/ as one; to believe everything my kind says about you?" He asked, obviously insulted. "Stop making excuses!" He demanded as he strode about halfway to him and paused. "Mother may have forced you to fall but everything else was your own doing. You talk about your /reputation/? You had no other reputation to me than the one you /earn/ through the countless centuries we've been together. A reputation that /you/ ruined! Not mother, not our brothers and sisters! You!" He accused, obviously having enough of it all.

Stranger: Crowley flinched, "I-You and I both know that the worst thing I've done is tempt people... and not even really bad stuff Aziraphale you know that.. you know most of the things that I claimed I did I didn't do.. the worst thing I did back then was on mothers orders! She told me to tempt Eve! I followed orders... and then I met you." his voice shook, "I met you and.... and I felt something new. You gave them your sword.... I wanted to know more but I knew you'd run away if I told you who I was so I gave myself a new name. I told Azazel to take care of hell. I hated it down there anyway, and... and I wanted to be where humans are, watch over them. And I just... needed to know /you/ and over the years we became... allies of a sort and then friends... and by the time we were friends... how? How do you tell someone that you're actually the Devil? Aziraphale I know I should have told you I know that... but I was scared. I'm not perfect angel I never claimed to be."

You: "Stop calling me that!" He snapped the shop shaking briefly in his turmoil. His gaze shot up as dust drifted from the ceiling, worry crossing his features before he managed to calm himself enough to keep it together. Finally he pinned the Demon with a glare once more. "You're wrong, Crowley." He stated flatly, an almost growly. "The worst thing you've done is far worse than tempt people." He corrected. "I'm well aware of the lies being told about you... about..." It was hard to admit it, as if saying his name would make it that much worse. "About Satan..." He finally managed. "That has nothing to do with this. Mother has nothing to do with this. What is happening now, in this shop... This is /you!/" He pointed out, shooting an accusing finger in his direction. "This is /your/ doing not theirs. Maybe you're right about not telling me in the garden... Maybe you were right to wait... But the fact that you never intended to tell me! What did you expect Crowley?! Was it some sort of game to you?! Poor, foolish /angel/! Look how dense he is! Look how naive!" He spat. "Well, I won't stand here and be made a fool any longer! You didn't want to 'ruin this' by telling me? Well congratulations Crowley! You didn't! No, you ruined it by doing the opposite!"

Stranger: Crowley was near tears as he stared at Aziraphale, "That was never what it was about." he shook his head, "Never Aziraphale I swear. I never... you're not foolish Aziraphale I-" he could feel his heart breaking. This was far worse than falling had been. "I never thought you were any of that. A part of me wanted to tell you so bad but I'm a coward I just-I didn't choose to fall but I did. I-I'm a monster I'm far worse than any of the normal demons I know I am. How-how could... I could never deserve you, no Demon or Angel would ever deserve you Aziraphale you're too good. But I thought.. I thought maybe if I pretended for long enough it would somehow-somehow make it better, somehow if I didn't tell you I was-then you wouldn't realize how much better than me you are and you wouldn't leave me behind. I was lucky enough to earn your-to be-while I was a demon.I wanted it to be real. I wanted to just be a normal demon... because you could never love the Devil because you'd leave me."

You: "Bullshit." He replied, his emotions so forceful that it pushed him to actually curse. "How dare you blame this on me. You have never been a monster! Even if I didn't know what you were I'd know that much! And don't you dare put me on a damned pedistood to make excuses for your behavior! You /lied/ to me, Crowley! For centuries! And you haven't even managed the nerve to apologize! To Hell with the rest! I don't give a tick about any of it and you should well know it! If you haven't figured it out then you don't know me at all! The only think I care about is that you lied to me and show no remorse for it! So, as far as I'm concerned you can march straight back out those doors and don't come back until you've learned to properly apologize!" He snapped, pointed towards the very exit he had mention, his expression obviously not to be trifled with. He paused waiting to see if Crowley was going to attempt to speak before interrupting him. "I said MARCH!"

#ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #good omens #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x Crowley #omegle #rp #roleplay #Satan!Crowley

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