Lucifer had changed. He was no longer the curious, broken being, that the fallen angel had come to sympathise with in heaven; he was angry, vengeful, evil, and so were all the others. A third of the angels had fallen with him, a third of God’s creatures banned from heaven to serve eternity in ‘hell’, a new, dark place very deep down.
It hadn’t been a shock to the nameless demon when Lucifer had called for him, just for the others to aggressively drag him through the dark and filthy corridors to find him in a big, dim room, sitting upon a makeshift throne. He looked different now, larger, his big, leathery wings spread over the dark throne behind him, the previously perfect, pale skin now dyed a dark red by the blood of the fallen.
"Satan, we’ve brought him, as you requested,“ croaked the demon who still had an iron grip on the nameless one’s aching shoulder. The fallen angel raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Satan? Well, that’s one hell of a name choice.” Satan raised his arm, gesturing to his men dismissively. They immediately let go of the black-winged creature, stumbling back in fear as he fell forwards, down to the ground onto his scuffed up arms, raising his head slightly to playfully bow at the being before him.
"My old friend, how have you been?“ Lucifer’s voice was no longer the smooth one of an angel, it was deep, and intimidating, like a combined roar of a dozen people shouting at once - a sound chilling down to the bone. "I’m good, really. No complaints here.” The nameless demon’s voice was smug and dripping with sarcasm as he stood up, brushing the dust and dirt from the black piece of cloth he was wearing.
Satan waved his arms towards the other present demons once more, all of them rushing out of the room obediently.
The dark, red eyes bore into his, and the red-winged creature slowly leaned forward on the throne, an intimidating grin on its face.
"I have a task for you, an important one. I know you’ll like it, even though you hate me for what I’ve done.“ "I don’t - ” “I know, what you think. I know, what you feel. I know you.” The nameless demon swallowed in fear before he realised: He had never been scared of Lucifer, nor was he now, when he had absolutely nothing to lose anymore. He would certainly prefer death, even a slow and painful over spending eternity down here with them, with Him. Not afraid to show him his mindset, he opened his mouth to throw some mocking sass at him, when Satan cut him off. “I want you to go back up there and make some trouble. I want you in Her oh-so-perfect world, and I want you to ruin it - for them and for Her.”
The fallen angel didn’t hear Satan’s maniacal laughter that followed his words, too caught up in his own thoughts. He could go back? Back to earth, back to the garden, he could go see his angel again, even if he wouldn’t remember him, could maybe even talk to him?
His overwhelming emotions left him sobbing internally, struggling to keep his cool exterior in front of the devil.
"Certainly. I will, Master,“ he muttered obediently, and Satan nodded, a grin still plastered on his face as he rose an arm towards him. "Oh, and another thing: You’ll need a body, a corporal one. Something inconspicuous.” He snapped his long, bony fingers that were extended towards the nameless demon, and without warning, he could feel himself discorporating, changing and reforming. It wasn’t painful, not the process at least, not until he suddenly solidified on the ground, in a new, smaller body and opened his eyes. His vision was different, much brighter but less clear, and he flinched as he saw a forked tongue flicker out before his eyes. His tongue, a snake’s tongue.
"What should I call you, my friend?“ "I already had a name,” he resented, his voice deeper and almost hissing as he spoke. “I know you did. It’s not yours to claim anymore, neither now nor ever again. Now, you’re just a pathetic, crawly being, that is finally going to corrupt Her greatest creation. Crawley, ha!” Satan slapped the stone armrest of his throne, the sharp claws of his right hand scraping off parts of rock as his ear-splitting laughter made the snake shiver in its newly formed body. “Well, Crawley, I trust you won’t disappoint me. It’s us against Her now. Do your worst.”
⁂
Crawley was an ethereal being reduced down to its basics, damned to serve Satan and hell for all eternity in doing whatever they asked of him. In his new form, he had to learn everything anew, how to move, how to talk; everything seemed different now. He was able to change his snake-like body back into something that very remotely resembled what he used to look like, at least looking vaguely humanoid with his scrawny build, bony face and fire-red hair. What he was never able to change, were the eyes, that were now his. Large, greenish-yellow irises, only split by the vertical slits of pupils that always stared back at him creepily from the broken mirror in his quarter (he had broken it in a fit of anger when he had first seen himself in his new form and never bothered to fix it).
The demon had learned very early on in his demonic existence that, even though he could suffer, and that to great lengths, he could not die (even if he wanted to), at least not through something in his control. It was an epiphany, really. He’d thought having fallen from God’s grace had been the end, but it had rather been the start of something entirely new. This wasn’t necessarily something great or even remotely good, but certainly something new that gave him a purpose, even though he detested it with every fibre of his being.
He hadn’t had a choice, really, when Satan sent him upwards from hell, burrowing through the holy ground as a dark, miserable snake until he eventually broke through the crusty surface of the garden. The earth opened above him with an audible crack, and the pleasantly warm soil slid across his scales with ease as the fresh air hit him like a hard slap in the face. He was back. He shook off the remains of dirt on his thin body, the once cosy grass burning against his soft underbelly as he crawled towards the woman. The sun heated up his scaly skin in seconds, and he let out a hiss of delight before he started whispering in Eve’s ear.
⁂
Tempting them really hadn’t been hard. Just suggesting the mere idea had intrigued her so much, that he didn’t even have to do anything more than watch the events unfold.
He was observing the two humans climbing through the small hole in the walls of the garden when he suddenly felt Aziraphale’s presence close-by, could sense his inner turmoil and nervousness. Instinctively, he started crawling up the rough, uneven walls of the garden until he found himself breathless as he reached the ledge right behind the angel’s white wings that rustled in the wind of an upcoming storm. A long feather of the tail ends of his wings brushed over the fallen one’s body as he slithered past him, turning his soul into a shivering mess.
It had been one of the hardest things Crawley had ever had to do, pretending he didn’t know the beautiful angel stood upon the gates of Eden, gazing into the seemingly endless desert before him.
He felt Aziraphale’s lingering stare on him as he assumed his new humanoid form, eyeing him up and down until his head snapped forwards quickly as soon as he laid eyes on the deep black wings the demon unfolded behind himself. He gave his best to not look at Aziraphale but could see him out of the corner of his eye: a divine image of an angel, white wings and soft fabric fluttering around him. He couldn’t help but notice him anxiously clutching the golden ring on his little finger (which Crawley had gifted him early on in their friendship during his angelic existence), in fact, clutching it so hard that his knuckles were pure white from the pressure.
Crawley stretched his wings out comfortably in the upcoming breeze, felt the cold, refreshing wind brush through his long, red curls and stared out into the desert. There was nothing there but light brown dunes for as far as the eye could see, only contrasted by the silhouettes of two humans fearfully striding through the new lands.
The demon took a deep breath, forcing himself to look forward, as he finally broke the silence. “Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”
He felt the angel’s gaze back on him as he spoke, his following nervous chuckle sending sharp daggers through his heart as he struggled to casually look in the other direction.
"Sorry, what was that?“
Turning his head towards the angel, he felt his heart speed up immediately, Aziraphale’s hesitant gaze on him nervous and confused until their eyes met. For Crawley, it felt like fireworks exploding beneath his skin, a sort of happiness spreading through him he had thought he could never feel again after the fall. The angel still looked the same, and yet somehow different. His hair was the same, light shade of blond, but more messy and ruffled, his eyes still the same shade he had never seen anywhere else before, a divine combination of green and blue with golden specs scattered throughout, and yet, they looked different.
Crawley would only a long time later realise, that this had not to do with Aziraphale’s exterior at all, but it was the way he was looking at him in obliviousness that felt so strangely unfamiliar; he hadn’t recognised him.
As their eyes met and all these thoughts shot through Crawley’s head at light speed, he saw the angel flinch slightly, his expression almost shocked for a fraction of a second. His eyes. Of course, he had expected this. Many times before had he stared at his own reflection, oftentimes in horror and disgust, but to see his angel so shocked by them somehow hurt even more.
He felt embarrassed, and it became increasingly hard to keep up his cool exterior. "I said: Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” “Yes, yes. It did, rather.” Aziraphale nodded, looking back and forth between him and Adam and Eve slowly advancing through the sand. “Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me.” Crawley turned slightly towards the angel as he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards slightly as he took in his confused, almost offended facial expression.
"First offence and everything. I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.“ The blond was now seemingly almost at a loss for words, only pulling himself together a few moments later, puffing up his chest slightly. "Well, it must be bad,” he muttered, his eyes now closed as if trying to remember a name he once knew and had now forgotten, as if feeling it just on the tip of his tongue. He really didn’t remember him.
"Crawley.“ The demon interrupted, thanked with a court nod. "Crawley…” He gave him a brief smile, keeping his eyes on him. “Otherwise,” he murmured, pausing again for a deep intake of breath, his voice now a little softer as he raised his chin proudly, “you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.” He was fidgeting with his ring again, and his wings twitched slightly as he spoke.
"Oh, they just said, ‘Get up there and make some trouble’.“ "Well, obviously. You’re a demon,” Aziraphale replied softly, “it’s what you do.” The angel’s eyes drifted back to the demon’s black wings, then to the small snake tattoo on his temple. Crawley was overwhelmed once more, for different reasons now.
An angel talking to a demon was something, he had expected to be different. He had expected a general kind of condescending attitude, not necessarily arrogant but certainly somewhat biased. This was not that; the way the angel was treating him was the definition of kindness, with no implied judgement whatsoever. It was almost like he was saying: “It’s what you do, and what you have to do, no judgement here; I know you have to, and you’re doing a marvellous job at it.”
Another long pause seemed to make Aziraphale uncomfortable as he started shifting his weight from one foot to another, however, now more confident in his words and actions, Crawley kept going. “Not very subtle of the Almighty, though.” The angel’s attention was back on him. “Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a 'Don’t Touch’ sign. I mean, why not put it on top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?” The angel’s eyes widened at his words, nervously flickering towards the light blue sky above, then the dark clouds in the distance. “Makes you wonder what God’s really planning,” Crawley added bluntly, so the angel focused back on him entirely.
"Best not to speculate,“ he responded, his eyebrows furrowed as he nodded at the demon, wordlessly nudging him to stop. "It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand. It’s ineffable.” Crawley’s lips quivered with unspoken words, his eyebrows now raised in question. “The Great Plan’s ineffable?” he questioned, the angel’s eyes now lighting up as he stood a little straighter. “Exactly."
Crawley took in the Aziraphale’s posture, his eyes gliding over his body, landing at his hands once more, this time in bewilderment. "It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words,” the angel continued proudly, as Crawley’s gaze lingered on his hands where fidgety fingers were still turning and twisting the golden ring. Something was different, something was missing, something - oh. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”
The angel looked incredibly nervous all of a sudden, his eyes flickering back and forth, settling down on his feet, avoiding eye contact altogether. “Uh…” “You did! It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?” The demon kept digging as his gaze left the blond’s hands, sliding back to his highly uncomfortable facial expression. “Uh…” he stuttered again, his voice quieter and avoiding as he shook his head slightly. Or had it been taken away after the fall? Maybe talking about it would remind him that there had been something before this, something between them…
"Lost it already, have you?“ Crawley grinned, the situation reminding him of the teasing conversations they had had back in the day about the angel’s clumsiness. Aziraphale’s head was still pointed to the ground as he blushed heavily, turning his head the other way, his voice almost inaudible as he answered. "Gave it away."
"You what?!” Crawley raised his eyebrows in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as the angel met his gaze with a tormented expression. “I gave it away…” His eyes were full of worry and concern, and Crawley couldn’t help but smile as the angel kept talking. “There are vicious animals. It’s going to be cold out there, and she’s expecting already. And I said, 'Here you go. Flaming sword. Don’t thank me. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.’” Aziraphale inhaled deeply, pausing as if giving Crawley time to interject, but the demon was at a loss for words.
The angel had directly disobeyed God. He had been so worried about the two outcasts and their future, that he had promptly, and without asking for permission, given away the only material thing She had ever given him.
"I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing,“ Aziraphale uttered, staring upon the humans once more. Crawley was still lost in thought. He hadn’t wanted them to be defenceless and suffer needlessly, so he’d just given it away. How could a single creature be so unalterably kind? He recomposed himself.
"Oh, you’re an angel, I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.” Their eyes were glued to each other as they spoke, Aziraphale’s face suddenly overcome by an even bigger blush, his eyes full of relief as a hesitant smile played around his features. “Oh, oh thank - oh, thank you. Oh, it’s been bothering me.” His lips curled upwards in a genuine smile that sent butterflies surging through Crawley’s stomach, interrupted by a lion’s roar.
Another one of the garden’s inhabitants had made it outside of Eden’s guarding walls and was now viciously attacking Adam, who had shoved Eve behind him protectively.
"I’ve been worrying, too. What if I did the right thing with the whole 'eat the apple’ business?“ Crawly admitted, just as Adam swung the angel’s flaming sword towards the lion. "A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.” His eyes swung back to Aziraphale’s coy smile that suddenly fell as Adam dealt a fatal blow on the lion. The change of his expression went straight to his heart, and he felt overcome by the sudden desire to make him smile again, just somehow… “It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one."
He forced himself into his best little smile and a gravelly chuckle as the angel’s expression morphed into a confused smile, and a small chuckle escaped his lips as well, before he broke eye contact and the smile fell instantly. "No!” His face was now visibly offended. “It wouldn’t be funny at all!” The angel’s blunt change of tone almost sobered Crawley up, putting him back into his place. An angel and a demon, nothing more. He still couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice as he answered: “Well…”
The dark curtains of clouds had almost reached their peak over them, when, suddenly, thick droplets of crystal-clear water began falling from the sky, running down Crawley’s nose as streaks of pure white broke through the stormy blanket of grey before them, bright, forked bolts of lightning soaring through the graphite sky just before the roaring crash of thunder that followed. Taking an instinctive step sideways towards the angel, he heard a faint rustle next to him, suddenly not feeling any more drops hitting him. Noticing the edges of light feathers dangle almost out of his field of vision, he quickly realised Aziraphale had shielded him from the rain with his wing, and he could have cried out loud in simultaneous love and frustration.
Crawley knew, if he hadn’t already been in love with the angel that stood next to him, this would have been the exact moment he would have fallen in love. The angels hands tightly folded before him, a small content smile on his lips as his beautiful eyes followed the rainclouds, his bright hair slowly sticking to his pale skin, yet he only thought of shielding the demon from the previously unknown phenomenon of rain.
How could a single being be so loving and compassionate, even towards a demon, his hereditary enemy? How could Aziraphale be like this to him, even now, not knowing him?
Crawley sobbed internally and took a deep, shuddering breath that he hoped the angel hadn’t noticed.
He might have forgotten all about him, but he could certainly get to know him all over again and there was always a chance that he would remember. One day.
Angels were, from the very beginning of their existence, predestined to be the most loving thing God would ever come to create. They naturally loved everything, every single one of God’s creations, every moment they could spend in the company of their people, they loved life and each other.
Knowing all this, it should have been no surprise for the archangel Raphael to feel love for Aziraphale, one of the newer acquaintances he had made here in heaven. What did surprise him, however, was that this time, it felt different than ever before: more intense, almost intimate. He felt nervous around the other angel, absolutely electrified whenever he could make him smile or laugh, and he unintentionally froze every time they touched, even if it was just a quick accidental brush of their hands or Aziraphale absentmindedly plucking a loose feather from Raphael’s perfect, white wings.
He hadn’t intended to tell Lucifer, but he spent so much time around him that he couldn’t exactly keep it a secret forever.
“You like him, huh?” The dark-haired angel froze in his movements, snapping his head towards his friend, who stood next to him. “What?" "Aziraphale. You like him." "Of course, he’s a very nice, compassionate angel.” Lucifer nodded, a small smirk now visible on his angelic features, as he retained eye contact. “He’s very handsome too, isn’t he?” Raphael could feel himself blushing heavily, quickly turning his gaze towards the ground as he felt his heart speed up to a rapid rhythm. “I’m not sure this is appropriate,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers through his long, wavy hair, trying to focus on anything but the image of the beloved angel in his mind. “I think he’s very cute. You two fit well together.” Raphael took a step back instinctively, his face red in shock over the words of his friend. “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stuttered, his hands suddenly shaking as he felt his face heat up. The angel beside him laughed out loud at his reaction. “Of course, you don’t, Raphael.”
Lucifer was, like him, an archangel, but that was not the sole cause for Raphael’s fondness of him. He was, after all, the angel of healing, working to heal the body and mind of those, who needed him, and he had known from the first time they had met that Lucifer needed him, almost desperately so.
He was different from the other angels, full of curiosity and doubt, and he didn’t shy away from openly questioning Her motives whenever he felt like it. He was always honest and open about what he was thinking, which the archangel found impressive, but as honest as he was about his thoughts, as secretive was he about his feelings.
Raphael could sense them, however, sense his friend’s longing for a change, for explanation and validation, could feel him getting more and more desperate day after day. It was what had originally pulled him towards the troubled angel, what had inspired him to try and help his agitated spirit be content once more, and he had been hopeful, for a long time, even.
It wasn’t until the earth was created when everything went downhill. They all sang and praised God in the six days of its creation, and even Lucifer seemed positively intrigued by this sudden change, all until Adam was born. Lucifer despised him and Eve and the simple, obeying relationship they seemed to have with God, because, or this was at least what Raphael suspected, he craved something just like that. He wanted people to follow his advice, look up to him instead of Her, and, after a while, he seemed convinced he was more worthy of their love and fellowship than God was.
Raphael tried his best to ignore his friend’s dangerous tendencies, but he was almost forced into spending more time with the plagued angel when Aziraphale was sent down to earth to guard the eastern gate of Eden, the garden, that God had created for Adam and Eve.
He was crushed at the sudden disappearance of his favourite associate and, with his best friend now gone and his other friend seemingly turning mad, felt incredibly lonely in heaven. So much so, that he started finding himself agreeing with Lucifer’s demented statements more and more often, occasionally meeting up with him and others who seemed to feel the same displeasure about the overall situation.
Heaven, as it existed around this time, was a place of love and comfort, or at least this was what it was created for and what it felt like to most angels. Raphael, however, had lost all interest in his surroundings after Aziraphale’s sudden departure, perceiving heaven only as a cold place where he spent his existence patiently waiting for him to return.
Finding Lucifer’s constant companionship increasingly toxic for his own mind and behaviour over the decades and his need to see his friend once more built up to an almost painful degree, he decided to visit Aziraphale down in Eden.
⁂
After leaving the cold, white, unforgiving halls of heaven, he was well-nigh overwhelmed as he took in the colourful, diverse beauty of the dense, lush garden around him. His mind was absolutely enraptured by the magnificent flowers and fruits around him, the life and love that the place radiated, and he felt a wave of instant relief wash over him, all of his troubles melting away into nonexistence as he gazed upon the beautiful garden surrounding him. He was somewhat hypnotized by the beauty all around him, all caught up in a trance of pure awe until he laid eyes on Aziraphale.
The angel stood between the lush green of two giant trees, his white wings stretched out comfortably behind him, lightly moving in the soft breeze as he gently stroked his fingers over the delicate blossoms of a thin, wilting branch. The plant lightened up under his touch, almost leaning into it as it bloomed back up, promptly back to its previous glorious form, and he observed a content smile spread over the angel’s face.
The gentle rustling of grass against his bare feet gave Raphael away, so Aziraphale turned around, his mouth already opened for a cordial greeting (probably expecting one of the other inhabitants of the garden), freezing in place when his eyes met the ones of his old friend.
The dark-haired angel’s heart stopped when his gaze captured Aziraphale’s, all of his feelings coming crashing down on him in a matter of seconds. He realised how much he had missed his best friend, his companionship, his compassionate, loving nature; he realised, how different he felt about him than about anyone else, and finally, how much and how deeply he loved the angel that stood before him.
His breath caught in his throat as the other angel took a few hesitant steps towards him, his blue eyes glassy, cheeks slightly blushed, contrasting against his light blond hair. Aziraphale’s voice was soft but slightly raspy as he cocked his head to the side and addressed his visitor lovingly.
“Raphael, my dear, is that you? I haven’t seen you in at least a hundred years, darling, how - ” He couldn’t stop himself, not now, not after not having seen him for so long. Raphael closed the distance between them with two long strides, his slender fingers now suddenly cupped around the reddened cheeks of the blond angel and his own, chapped lips pressed against his. It wasn’t a gentle, angelic gesture, as you would perhaps imagine two angels kissing; it was a kiss full of emotion, love and desire, but, as much as Raphael had expected his friend to push him away in disgust or even horror, he had melted into his touch instantly, his soft lips moving against his own in a similar frenzy as he burrowed his hands in the thick strands of Raphael’s hair.
They broke apart, gasping for air, but still desperate for each other’s touch as they leaned their foreheads against each other. Raphael couldn’t think a single straight thought, his fingers still tangled in the short blond hairs at the side of the angel’s neck, softly brushing his other thumb over the smooth skin of his cheekbone and temples.
“I’ve missed you so much, Aziraphale… I’ve missed you so much.” He hadn’t realised that he was crying until he felt the angel brush the warm tears from his cheeks and press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you too, my love."
Raphael’s vision was blurry, his eyes still filled to the brim with tears as he forced himself to look Aziraphale in the eye again and gently take the other angel’s hands into his, lightly brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "I have to tell you something, and I probably should have said this much earlier… Angel, I - ”
“So, this is it, huh?” Lucifer’s voice was cold and impersonal as it cut through the serene sounds of the garden. “This is Eden.” The two angels flinched, immediately letting go of each other as they almost jumped metres apart. Lucifer erupted into a burst of bitter laughter. “Oh, come on, don’t stop on my behalf. I’m just here to take a look at all this.” He gestured around himself with a weird smile on his face. Raphael shuddered at his expression, quickly rushing towards his friend as he brushed the remaining tears from his face. “Lucifer, I don’t think this is a good idea." "Oh, you don’t think? Why should I not be allowed down here, you are, right? He is, too, and we’re leagues above him.” Raphael felt his angel’s sharp intake of breath behind him at the rude comment and took another, bigger step towards Lucifer.
“I think we should go, Lucifer. Will you join me?” He extended a hand towards him, gently urging him to take it. He felt his glare on him, taking in his posture, his expression, only then meeting his eyes. His hand instantly dropped back down to his side at the sight of the red, angry eyes that bore into his. These weren’t the eyes of his friend, nor were they the eyes of an angel, this was something else, something… evil.
“Lucifer, please…" "No! I don’t want to go back there, not like this, I will not, I refuse! I refuse to be put down every day, I refuse to stand under Her, letting her reign over everything when it’s not right!"
Raphael raised his arms in a defensive gesture, tucking in his wings behind his back before he started talking in the smoothest, most calming voice he could muster. "I know, I know it’s not easy, I - ” “Not easy?! Not fair, that’s what this is. I deserve a chance, I deserve to rule humanity! I want to walk with them in the garden, I want them to listen to nobody but me! I will ascend into the high heavens! I will take over the seat of the Highest! I will, I will, I will!” His screaming was now frantic, his voice rough and deep as he shouted upwards, his arms flailing in anger before he disappeared within the blink of an eye.
Raphael did not lose time to turn around to Aziraphale, who stood there in shock, his eyes locked on the ground where the angel had just stood, and cupped his face with his shaking hands once more. “Angel, listen to me. You have to listen to me, okay? Stay here, stay down here and protect them." "But - " "Promise me, that you’ll stay down here, alright? I have to help, but I have to be sure you’ll do as I say, I can’t have you risking your life up there. The world still needs you, they need you.” He nodded towards where he imagined the two humans to be, and Aziraphale quickly nodded back at him, his light blue eyes now filled with tears of distress. “Okay, I promise, I promise." Raphael didn’t let him talk more than that, quickly pressing his lips to the blond angel’s one more time, almost drowning in the intoxicating dance of their lips before snapping his fingers and ascending back up into heaven, leaving Aziraphale down in Eden with a panicked expression on his flushed face.
⁂
"I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of the sacred mountain. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High!"
Heaven was in chaos. Raphael could hear Lucifer’s voice loud and clear through the masses of angels surrounding him, and he could see the others on the opposite side, could see Michael and Gabriel standing strong in front of their army, ready to defend heaven with all their might.
The angels around Lucifer cheered boorishly, suddenly turning from an absorbed crowd into a bloodthirsty unit of mad angels as they angled themselves towards the opposition. "You will not win this, Lucifer,’ declared Gabriel, his voice calm and collected as his tunic blew in the wind. "I will win whatever I want to, you dull creature. Angels, I command - ”
“Lucifer!" Raphael had heard his own voice break through the uproar before he had realised he was doing so, making the rebelling angel stop in the middle of his sentence. He approached him swiftly, striding through the masses of angels that parted for him, stopping only metres in front of his Lucifer. He looked cold, hurt and broken, his pupils glowing bright red as they stared at each other.
"Lucifer, stop this, this is absolute madness…” “This isn’t madness, this is justice! I deserve this, Raphael, you know I do, I can do this all better, I can manage this all better than Her!” A small outcry went through the crowd of faithful angels, but Raphael wouldn’t budge. “You deserve the world, Lucifer, but this isn’t right, this can’t be the right way.”
For a split second, when Raphael locked eyes with Lucifer, he saw his friend again, nothing but the sad, desperate eyes of a broken soul, but then they were back to the red, hardened eyes of determination.
“There is no other way."
With a furious scream and a flap of his wings, he jumped up and pointed his army towards the other angels as he lingered above them, and suddenly, with another roar, he almost exploded into a ball of fire. A hellfire, that floated above the ravaging angels, grew quickly, then formed itself into the form of an enormous, haunting dragon.
Everything was happening so fast; Raphael could see the dragon attacking Michael, could see Gabriel struggling with four angels cornering him, could see everybody fighting valiantly - and yet he couldn’t bring himself to join the battle.
He loved the archangels, even though he had never had the best relationship with any of them, but he knew that they were trustworthy people. He loved Lucifer like one would love a young, naive child or perhaps someone, who just needed help and guidance, but he could not justify his violent actions against the other angels. Still, he was his friend. And yet, who was he to choose a side, choose one friend over the other?
His radiant, green eyes filled with tears of torment once more, his mind back with Aziraphale, his angel.His angel. The feeling that shot through his body from just thinking about him gave him every answer he had asked for, and, as he was conjuring up a sword and leaned forward to run into battle against the rebelling angels, it came.
Light. Nothing but light. Just an overbearing, blinding, white light on all of them, a light which filled him with shame for hesitating, even though he knew he had ultimately chosen the right side.
”You.“ God’s voice was loud, deafening and it stopped everyone in their actions.
As time seemed to stand still, Raphael turned around, his eyes scanning the crowds for the other archangels until suddenly, his gaze was caught by the blond angel standing only several metres from him. Aziraphale. ”You have disappointed me,“ her voice declared as Raphael extended a loving hand towards his angel in worry, taking a step towards his warm expression and open arms. He was another bit closer, so close to Aziraphale that their hands almost touched, when suddenly, as he took the last step forward, his feet didn’t find any solid ground under them, and he fell.
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There is a saying humans commonly use in situations of coquetry, mainly when trying to effectively entrance another being, that goes: "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” This complementary question obviously implies that the person being talked to has the appearance or demeanour of an ethereal being, and it is meant as a polite form of flattery.
For Raphael, however, it had hurt. Of course, it had hurt, to figuratively and literally fall from heaven, landing in a pool of boiling sulphur down in hell. Of course, it had hurt when his name had been taken from him, as were his looks, his likeness, his wings, his abilities. But nothing had hurt as much as knowing what had happened in heaven after he had fallen.
He hadn’t just imagined Aziraphale’s presence in the room before he fell, he hadn’t hallucinated or wished him there; the angel had actually shown up in worry over him, even though he had promised him not to, just in time to see him being cast out from heaven for eternity.
The blond angel had consequently snapped, attacked the other angels around him with his sword of flames, all while screaming about how they dared to cast out one of their best who probably had been their most competent man, about how Raphael didn’t deserve this, that this couldn’t be right and part of the Great Plan, that there had to have been some mistake. When they’d managed to calm the angel down, the others had tried to explain the situation, telling Aziraphale what Raphael had gotten himself into - being on the side of the rebellion, apparently - but this had just made Aziraphale rabid once more, and eventually, collectively, the angels decided to make him forget about the entire thing and send him back down to Eden.
He’d forgotten all about him. About them. About everything.
The nameless fallen angel let his fingers roam over the sulphur-soaked, now jet black feathers of his wings, sighing out loud. He had no reason to exist anymore. None at all. If his angel, the love of his life wouldn’t remember him, what was there to live for?
And with that thought, he threw himself back into the boiling sulphur.
Hello, all! Got another one for you. I hope you enjoy it.
For those of you who’ve been waiting for the all-clear regarding sadness: things are still pretty sad, but the next few chapters will be not as sad. If you’re waiting for the final ‘everything is good and happy now forever’, though, that’s still a couple chapters out. I promise I’ll keep you posted!
Or Be Nice - a Good Omens human AU in which Soho neighbours have very different schedules and very thin walls. 151k, rated E, no archive warnings. COMPLETE
Finally posting the ficlets I did in Discord for the March Flash Fiction challenge of @kedreeva. Gonna post one a day until they’re all done
‘Honey, I’m home!’ Crowley calls as he walks into their cottage, revelling in his ability to quote human sitcoms now. They all fly over Aziraphale’s head, but that’s half the fun.
The other half is the look of delight on Aziraphale’s face when Crowley calls him a pet name.
However, this time, Aziraphale doesn’t beam back. Instead he meets Crowley in the doorway of the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at the back door.
‘Angel?’
‘Promise not to get mad,’ Aziraphale says, biting his lip.
Oh no. ‘Angel, what happened? I was only gone a day!’
Aziraphale looks over his shoulder again. ‘Well… I went to water your plants, like you aske-’
Oh those bastards. ‘What did they do?’ Crowley growls, storming out the back door towards the greenhouse. ‘If they’ve bullied you-’
‘No, Crowley!’ Aziraphale cries as Crowley walks into the greenhouse.
Relief floods through Crowley. It takes him a long moment to realise it’s not hisrelief.
The plants stop shaking at the sight of him, settling down into something like relaxation. He stares at them in confusion - they’d been perfectly behaved, shaking plants just twenty-four hours ago. What happened?
Aziraphale walks in behind him. The plants instantly start to tremble, their fear clouding the air.
Crowley turns to look at Aziraphale. ‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing much,’ Aziraphale says, looking at his feet. ‘I read a book to them, while having a cup of tea… and I may have forgotten to bring in the watering can so I ah… used the tea.’
‘You,’ Crowley says with wonder, ‘watered my plants with tea?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tea.’
Aziraphale frowns. ‘Yes, Crowley!’
Crowley starts to grin and pulls Aziraphale out of the greenhouse. ‘You read to them from the body of one of their fellow plants and then watered them with the strained water of another.’
‘Oh.’ Aziraphale stares into the distance. ‘Oh dear.’
Leaning in, Crowley places a kiss to his angel’s kiss. ‘You utter bastard,’ he says in delight. ‘You’ve got them running scared. They’re going to grow beautifully, if I threaten them with another day under your care.’
That gets a glare from Aziraphale. ‘I will not be your… your musclefor terrifying those poor things,’ he says but leans into the kiss.
‘You’ll never have to see them,’ Crowley assures him and kisses his angel again and again, until he is welcomed home and Aziraphale has forgotten his problems.
Ligur was lolling on the lovesac in front of the TV when he heard the front door open. He tilted his head back and called, “Game Night?”
“Game Night,” agreed Hastur’s voice from the kitchen, followed by the thunk of a sixpack being set on the counter.
When Ligur had been living with Michael, Game Night had been every Tuesday. Now it was any night that Hastur decided to come over.
Ligur leaned forward to grab the consoles without letting his butt leave the lovesac. The giant beanbag had been on sale when he’d been looking to furnish his new apartment, because nobody wanted swamp green. But Ligur loved swamp green; it went great with his only other piece of furniture, Demon’s terrarium.
Ligur mashed his body to one side of the lovesac and booted up the game, listening to Hastur pop the caps off two bottles. “Hullo, Demon,” muttered Hastur as he walked past the terrarium, sounding as fond as he ever did. Which wasn’t very, but was still more affectionate than Michael had ever been when speaking to Ligur’s pet chameleon. Come to think of it, she never did talk to Demon, she only talked about him, as if he couldn’t hear her.
Hurt both Demon’s and Ligur’s feelings, that did.
The lovesac sank as Hastur dropped onto it. “You need a couch,” he grunted, an important Game Night ritual. They’d agreed during the first Game Night in Ligur’s new apartment that it was pretty weird for two dudes to share the same beanbag, but they could manage as long as it was temporary. Thus the need to regularly reaffirm the imminent acquisition of a couch.
“Yeah,” agreed Ligur, taking the beer that Hastur offered and properly looking at his friend for the first time since he’d walked in the door. Same messy blond hair, hollow eyes, and weird crooked smile. Good. Hastur wasn’t attractive, not that Ligur spend time thinking about what made men attractive, which meant it was even more okay to share the lovesac with him.
“You’re staring,” said Hastur, the side of his mouth pulling up even higher in a grin that other people called creepy.
Ligur liked creepy. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took several long swallows without breaking eye contact. Then he dropped it and wiped his mouth. “Right, let’s play.”
As Ligur took a blade to every body, and Hastur proceeded to rip all riches and life from the land, the space between them shrank. When they were pressed thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, Ligur took his cue for the next part of the ritual. “How’s it going with that Dagon chick?”
Hastur grunted sourly. “Last time she came into the bar, she had some person with her.”
“Guy or girl?”
“Couldn’t tell. Doesn’t matter. Kept a hand on Dagon’s back, ordered for her, made her laugh. Date crap.”
“Maybe–”
“No,” Hastur cut him off.
“Oh.”
Ligur took over capturing and ransoming the young so that Hastur could flay and render flesh, one of his favorite bits. Hastur’s pointy elbow kept jostling Ligur’s side, so he dug his elbow back. After a few rounds of that, Hastur cleared his throat and asked, “How’s Michael?”
That wasn’t in the script. Ligur shrugged. “I think she’s banging Lucifer again.”
Hastur made a face that almost looked like sympathy. It annoyed Ligur. “We broke up,” he reminded his friend.
“Yeah,” said Hastur. “You never told me why.”
“No,” said Ligur shortly. “I didn’t.”
Apparently Hastur was all about the improv tonight. “Always thought it was a bit funny, you dating a girl named Michael.”
“Why?”
“Well. It’s a boy’s name. People ever think you were gay?”
“Sometimes.” Ligur considered that he’d like to be drunk for this conversation, but his beer was empty and he didn’t want to get up for another. Hastur was leaning on him heavily enough that he’d probably fall over. “Why, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Think I was gay?” There, now they’d both used the word.
“Dunno,” mumbled Hastur. On the screen, they caused the earth’s entrails to exude from its body, and the village paid obeisance in word and tribute.
“We split because of you,” said Ligur.
“Me?”
“Michael said I was more into you than I was into her, and I told her to shut her stupid face, and she kicked me out.”
“Oh,” said Hastur. He dropped his controller and turned to Ligur, and then he was pressing that weird smile right against Ligur’s mouth. So Ligur dropped his controller too, putting his hands in Hastur’s gross hair.
“I have to tell you something,” said Ligur after a bit, sprawled horizontally in the lovesac.
“Yeah?” said Hastur, who was underneath him.
“I’m tired of Animal Crossing. Next Game Night we’re playing Stardew Valley.”
~
Okay so this is what happened. There was a conversation about lovesacs that led to @charlottemadison42 outlining a slobby gamer AU which @moondawntreader proposed applying to maggot husbands and then I said “what game should they be playing” and @goodbyevanny said Animal Planet Crossing and @ack-emma gave me the violent ways to describe real gameplay (and @cassieoh too!) so yeah. Moral of the story, I feel lucky to know such clever people. Also I never tired of getting Ligur and Hastur together in weird ways.
Aziraphale put his arms around Crowley, his head in the crook of the demon’s shoulder. “The stars are so bright out here. Away from the city lights, it seems that the whole night sky is lit up and the faint band of the Milky Way stretches infinitely across the sky. If the ship wasn’t so bright itself, they’d be even brighter.”
“Like an endless number of little fires burning,” Crowley sighed. “Even though up close they’re so massive. But from far away they look like nothing, like I could just gather up handfuls of them like sand on a beach.”
“Don’t do that, you’d get in trouble,” Aziraphale chuckled. “It was a lot of trouble putting them up there. They’d certainly be upset Upstairs if you started collecting them.”
“Handfuls of glittering gems, but none near as bright as you,” Crowley whispered.
“Huh?” Aziraphale looked up, but the stiff icy wind had stolen Crowley’s words, tearing them from his lips to tatters that disappeared into the whistling gale.
“It’s nothing, angel. Getting cold now, best get back. Let’s lie down again together and warm up properly, but this time the other way. You know,” Crowley gestured. “With me like this and you like that.”
Somewhere, a piano played in the grand dining room that was all soft hues of pinks with a sheer hint of glowing gold overlaying the walls, and Crowley looked about, trying to see where the sound was coming from, sparkling notes overlaying the gentle buzz of conversation, laughter, and the clink of glasses and silverware. Was it an actual piano or a recording? The clever humans made it difficult sometimes to discern, but there it was, just behind a majestic column, a grand piano and a neatly attired man in a tuxedo.
“Ooh, how exciting,”Aziraphale said as he sat down, straightening his quite elegantly old-fashioned shawl collar dinner jacket and white waistcoat as he did so, eyes alighting upon the menu in delight. “Our first supper aboard. Tell me, my dear, what do you think you would like?” Aziraphale pulled his little spectacles out from a vest pocket, slipping them onto his face, going through his usual reading ritual.
Crowley glanced at the menu. “I’ll have what’s suggested.”
“Crowley. You didn’t come all this way…”
“Wedidn’t-”
“Fine,we didn’t come all this way for you to not even look at the options.”
“Come on, angel. It’s not anything like that and you know it.”
“Is this about you and free-”
“Oh yes.”
“Always with the free will. Crowley! I know you’re taking a stance on a matter of principle but even choosing the suggested menu is a choice! You are perfectly capable of making choices, after all you chose to buy that car and not something else like, like I don’t know, a Model T-” Aziraphale said, immediately exhausting his knowledge of cars in one model.
“Sorry, I can’t hear you, I’m reading the menu,” Crowley said, holding up the thin sheet of fine cardstock between them, examining the menu.
“Fine. All right, let’s look at this suggested menu. Caviar. Well, I like caviar as well. Oh, but the full menu has foie gras. And a Tortue vert au- Crowley, I know you like turtles. And I know you like soup. But I also know you don’t like turtle soup, why would you just accept that without trying to change it?”
“Turtles are too crunchy.”
“I meant, I know you like turtles to look at, not to eat.”
“They’re very funny creatures, they look so friendly. I like how slow they are, except when they’re not.”
“Anyway, I’ll ask them for the Bisque de Homard instead. At least that’s a hot soup, the ConsomméFroid is too froid for you in this weather; it’s getting cooler, almost autumn after all. Hmm, Delice de sole Victoria, that I know you like, that’s a lovely delicate dish and I wouldn’t mind having a bite myself. Oh, I suppose I shall have the Devilled Philadelphia Squab Pigeon.”
“Are you sure you want that?” Crowley asked.
“Positive, after all, you’re the one who doesn’t like eating birds that much.”
“I like some roasted birds but most of the time they just remind me of too many feathers. But I meant the devilled part.” Crowley smiled toothily. “Wouldn’t you prefer the Côtelettes d'Agneau à la Navarra?”
“Just because my side popularized this lamb imagery doesn’t mean I want to eat lamb all the time,” Aziraphale said primly.
“Eh, I don’t know, I like a good bit of lamb myself.”
“Are you asking me to order lamb so you can have a bite?”
Crowley shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing in any way.
“Fine, I’ll get the lamb. Really, you make this overly difficult. If you would just make a decision instead of making me try to guess what you’d like, this would be so much easier. All right, the filet is fine, we can share that. Asparagus with a sauce mousseline. Oh, I know you’d prefer the aubergines. We’ll order that.”
“I always prefer the aubergines to asparagus.”
“Then…practice some of that non-free-will-free-will and choose aubergines!”
“No. No free will,” Crowley said, glumly. “Not even the non-free-will type. Just order the suggested for me and don’t worry about me at all.”
“Fine. Then we are getting the aubergines. I shall eat the asparagus. I rather like asparagus. Oh, and look, they have avocado pear salad. That’s not on the suggested menu. You like avocado pear, and it’s so hard to get good ones in London.”
Crowley glanced at the menu and looked uncomfortably away. “So? It’s just a salad. Who likes salads anyway?”
“Ahem, you have always liked raw things. Fruits, vegetables, entire fish, rabbits-”
“Ah- no, I don’t just like raw fish and rabbits, I like live fish and rabbits. And hares. Sometimes lizards. Oooh and frogs. But not live birds. Too many-”
“Too many feathers,” Aziraphale said, almost simultaneously. “Gets stuck in your throat.”
“Hmm,” Crowley said, glancing at the menu again. “They also have French fried potatoes.”
“They also have French fried potatoes,” Aziraphale agreed. “You know, Crowley, if you were to exercise some of that non-free-will-free-will, perhaps you could order those French fried potatoes. As a choice.”
“…angel? Are you tempting me?”
“O-of course not!” Aziraphale blushed, and the lazy smirk on Crowley’s lips slowly edged toward an outright smile. “I am merely trying to…to…help you assert yourself a bit more! After all, Hell can’t control everything in your life and neither can the humans; you should do some things on your own initiative sometimes.”
“Even if it’s dangerous?”
“Picking the avocado pear salad or French fried potatoes off a menu does not constitute a dangerous act but yes, I suppose that were the stakes high enough and should the situation warrant it, it would be important to take initiative, no matter what is said by those in charge. All right, what does the suggested menu say for pudding course…Omelette en Surprise Elizabeth. Well, that is a nice cake and I do like the candied violets and the vanilla ice but I don’t think you would like that quite as much as the fresh strawberries.”
“There is an Omelette en Surprise that I like, which one is it again…”
“You like the Neopolitan Surprise, because it’s on fire.”
“I like the Neopolitan Surprise because it has both Jubilee cherries and marron glacé, the fire is – and you know, the hard part about ordering it keeping the waiter from putting out the fire because if I do it myself it just doesn’t taste the same, hellfire just doesn’t taste very good at all, too sulphurous and it tends to turn any pudding into ash – a garnish. The fire is a garnish. Like whipped cream on top.”
“But on fire.”
“But on fire,” Crowley agreed.
“Now, what about wine,” Aziraphale began.
“Hmm, oh look, they have a kosher menu, maybe I should order the suggested menu from that, what do you think?”
“I’m sorry my dear, I can’t hear you, I’m ordering wine. Perhaps the 1920 Chambolle Musigny, Côte de Nuits would go well with the lamb…but no, with caviar and sole we have more seafood dishes so let’s get the champagne. Hmmm, that would be the Charles Heidsieck, Sec Gout Americain-”
Are you ready, mortals? Nanny is coming for Valentine’s Day
Here’s a delightful sneak peek from the talented Gigglesnortbangdead @gigglesnortbangdead that will be featured in Nanny’s Valentine’s Day Special - our new e-zine anthology coming soon … ❤️
Orders are OPEN! In addition to the e-zine anthology of spicy art and illustrations, fanfiction, and cosplay, a merch bundle and dakimakura are available! This zine is a collection of fan favorites and over 25 brand new pieces from a variety of creators!
Orders are OPEN! In addition to the e-zine anthology of spicy art and illustrations, fanfiction, and cosplay, a merch bundle and dakimakura are available! This zine is a collection of fan favorites and over 25 brand new pieces from a variety of creators!
A happy doomsday to all lustful mortals! Nanny says you have been (mis)behaving, so as a special treat on this Good Omens anniversary, help yourself to both volumes of our previously released Nanny zine for FREE!
In honor of Women’s History Month & White Day, you can now snag Nanny’s Valentine’s Day Special E-Zine with BRAND NEW bonus cards, stickers, and coloring pages! Also available are 2 card bundles from both volumes!
Enjoy this teeny tiny itty bitty little preview from SparkleInTheStars @sparkle-in-the-stars while you get ready for your date with Nanny! Snag your preorder of Nanny’s Valentine’s Day Special before the big day! https://gumroad.com/aivelin#UrTcY
Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and we just know you’d love to spend it with Nanny! Snag your preorder of Nanny’s Valentine’s Day Special before the big day! https://gumroad.com/aivelin#UrTcY
“Well, then. You asked for a sign and you got one,” he said in a low voice. “We’re no threat to you. We just want to be left alone. I think it’s time you took heed. Yes?”
Swallowing, Gabriel-ish looked from the icy angel to the six wings projected faintly on the wall behind him. He slowly nodded.
Behind Aziraphale there was a sudden hiss, a seething susurration as Crowley shifted. Over the angel’s shoulder, a massive snake slid in smooth undulations and its yellow eyes flashed in the glow of the Bentley’s light. Ropes fell uselessly to the floor.
This is a piece of fanart I’ve been working on inspired by this amazingly written fanfic I read on AO3 by 29Piecescalled“Soul of Vellum, Heart of Chrome”. It’s a really angsty and adorable take on how the Bentley and the Bookshop may actually be way more than what any of us expects. Check out the fic! It’s absolutely lovely and give all your love to the artist!
Anyone who ordered a copy of Volume 1 of the zine, regardless of when they ordered and received it, should have received an email today with the extra bonus gift. If you did not, please reach out to us. Thank you!
