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al1fers-haven · 1 month

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I got a request that I think is pure evil

Alastor x Fem!Reader | Angst

Alastor has spent all his time in hell focused on himself and his power, but in the back of his mind, he always was on the lookout for his wife that he had when he was alive.

He tells himself that he hasn't found he because she's in heaven with his momma until she shows up at the hotel, but she has no memory of him (but it is her, Alastor can tell)

So he tries subtly reminding her, but she doesn't quite understand what he's doing.

If she falls in love again or if she does manage to remember is up to you ❤️

I RAISE YOU ON THIS HEADCANNON AND LABEL THE READER AS A FALLEN ANGEL!

"I KNOW YOU"

Alastor x wife!Reader

Prompt: For as long as Alastor has been in hell he didn't look for you. He assumed that you had gone to the pearly gates of heaven with his mother with the way you acted when you were married in your lives. He had tried to forget about it, no longer seeking you but still needing you one way or another. What will he do when you show up at the hotel with no memory of you two ever being married?

After everything Alastor had done in his life, he was sure he deserved hell. The moment he got there he knew that, and there was no way he wanted to redeem himself. In his own eyes, he didn't particularly do anything wrong, he got rid of of those pesky and awful men who thought with the wrong head or were horrible people. And there was nothing wrong with that.

The only regret he had was leaving you and his mother up there all alone to figure out his true hobbies, and while he was hoping he could see you down here in hell. He knew damn well that a sweetheart like you was never going to be in the place for the damned. As his time went on in the pits of hell, the less hope he had for seeing you again. There was no sign of you and thank the gods for that. He couldn't bear to see you in a place like this.

He let out a small hum, blinking a couple times as he was brought back to his current state, looking down at the vegetables he was cutting. His hands shook slightly as he put down the knife and leaned against the counter. That harsh feeling swirled in his chest once again at the thought of you, despite him knowing this was for the absolute best. He couldn't help but grieve your touch. Wanting to hold you one more time in his lifetime.

Maybe that was the purpose of his hell. Having to live without you? "Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" Alastor tilted his head, walking out of the kitchen and retying the back of his apron. His eyes squinted a little bit as Charlie brought you into the lobby, a small hurt smile brought to her face as she explained why she was there. "I- I fell...I know that there's a chance you won't even accept me but I had nowhere else to do!" A sob wracked your frame, your hands covering your face as the pale-skinned woman patted your back. "I heard you were Lucifer's daughter- so I thought maybe you guys would help me...?" Charlie nodded, a loud sigh leaving her as she looked around for someone to look after you for a bit while she grabbed Vaggie. "Alastor! Would you mind looking after her for a moment while I go find my dad and Vaggie?" He nodded, quickly being dragged over to you. His eyes continued to widen as he got closer and closer. "Uhm...Hello!" You waved to the deer man and smiled. His body ridged as he looked at you.

You looked almost the same as you did the day he died. "Y/n..?" You blinked a couple of times, folding your hands in front of you, and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, do I know you...?"

He never thought four words could hurt that much, his smile tightening as Charlie left the two of you there. A huff left his lips. "Oh...Uhm. Do you remember me?" You shook your head, brows furrowing in confusion as you took a closer look at him. "No...I'm afraid not. After I died I don't have much recollection of my life...I'm sorry." His shadow formed behind him, a small frown on it's face before it zoomed away to somewhere else. "Oh, it's uhm- fine. My name is Alastor dear! It's a pleasure to see you again!"

Alastors ears pinned to the back of his head as you shook his hand. His body wanted to lean into the warmth you emitted.

~!~

You were sitting down in the lobby, eyes scanning the book in your hands. Reading more about hell and what it was like before going out into the world.

Alastor stared from the bar, ears pinned against his head in a mopey way. "C'mon dude, you're practically undressing her with her eyes," Husk growls a little bit, staring at Alastor with a scowl. "Oh- Forgive me she just...She doesn't remember me." Husk raised a brow. "Remember you? Did you know her?" Alastor nodded, a huff leaving his figure as he took a sip of his Rye. "She was my wife- She was in heaven after I died she just...doesn't remember me." Husk nodded. Huffing and actually feeling a bit bad for the awful man in front of him. "Maybe remind her? Recreate scenarios you two experiences..it works in the movies and books." Alastor's ears perked up as he listened, looking around for any sign of a radio. "That's actually quite smart for you Husker." The cat-man growls a little bit. The radio on the table in front of you started to play the song, the upbeat jazz in the background bringing you small memories of when you'd dance with your friends at the old speakeasies, spending most of your time dancing and singing on stage with the rest of the ladies you worked with. "Hello dear!" Alastor appeared in front of you, a smile on his face like always, a small giggle leaving you at the sight of his dressed-down state. Just wearing a red and black turtleneck and some dress pants. "Care for a dance? My dear?" You nodded, standing up and patting down your dress before he quickly took your hand and spun you around. A loud genuine laugh left you as you danced with the man.

Laughter filled the room, the music in the background blaring as the saxophone filled it. "Oh! Oh my!" You placed a hand against his chest and you two danced. His tail moving behind him as he listened to you enjoy yourself. "Aren't you a smooth dancer!" he laughed a little bit himself, twirling you once again. Charlie watched from afar, a small smile on her face as she stopped angel from talking about the sight. "My dear it's not rocket science to dance, just to learn it!" You couldn't help but hum, the music coming to an end as you tried to keep dancing. Your hands rested on your head, the small headache you had from the dancing getting worse and worse. "Are you alright my dear?" You reached out for youas you sat down, eyes closed due to the pain. "My love?" "It's nothing...just a bit of a headache, don't fret too much over it." You smiled up at him, trying to keep a cool head. "I think I'm going to go back to reading, if you don't mind." He nodded with a sigh. Trying not to overthink it.

~!~ "Oh Alastor! you shouldn't of!" Alastor stood in your doorway with a nice plate of beignets. His ears pinning to the back of his head as you took the plate from his hands and swiftly invited him in to share them. "Oh how did you know! I haven't had any since I was alive, oh!" You placed them down on the little table you had, clapping as you sat down. "oh?" Alastor sat down across from you, his ear twitching a little bit. "Who was the last person who made them for you, love?" You thought for a moment, just remembering how they were placed in front of you. "I believe....my husband?" You looked down at your dress, trying to remember. "I didn't...know I had a husband.." He blinked a couple times, his heart speeding up more and more. "Well- don't think too hard about it little lady! Just eat up!" You nodded carefully and took a bite. Absolutely stunned at how delishes the sweets were. ~!~ " would you mind grabbing me a tea dear?"

Alastor nodded, the tea appearing on the table in front of you. "oh! Thank you!" "Anything for my dear!"

"Why, *****. Would you mind getting me the cinnamon? " You turned around, looking at the man behind you with a bright smile. His apron red with the words 'kiss the chef on it'. "Anything for you my dear!" He kissed your cheek and you giggled.

"You...did i know you when i was alive, alastor?" He stood still, charlie looked over and raised a brow. "What?" You blinked a couple times.

"I'm so sorry, i shouldn't ask. Uhm- you just remind me of someone...but I can't remember who that someone is.." You shook your head. Laughing a bit as you grabbed the tea and walked away.

Alastor stood in his place, a small twitch in his smile as his ears pushed against his head. A small hum leaving angels mouth as alastor grabbed his coat where his heart should be. ~!~

You looked around everywhere, trying to find the book you were reading and asking almost everyone if they had seen in. It was a little cookbook about new orleans' finest dishes. "Alastor- Dear, have you seen my cookbook?" You walked into the kitchen and hummed, looking up towards the red demon. He was standing over the stove. Some jazz playing from his staff in the corner of the room next to the fridge. He looked back at you and laughed a bit. "Oh! Sorry dear! I found it by the stove and decided to try out a new recipe of deer meat I had found! Do forgive me." You grabbed your head, letting out a small groan and stepping back. Looking at him still.

"Are you alright?" "Honey! Have you seen my gardening apron?!" You walked into the kitchen, a small frown on your face as you looked around for that as well before your husband turned around. A guilty look on his face. "I may or may have not mistaken it for my hunting apron! Please forgive me..." You laughed a bit, huffing and walking up to him with a loving smile. His hands covered in blood from the deer meat he had been making. "I forgive you of course...but my dear red suits you well." You untied the back of the apron and retired it for him.

"Mm, how are you feeling love? Not throwing up anymore?" You shook your head no. Leaning your head against your husbands shoulder as you watched him work away on dinner. "I think it's the Jambalayah love, maybe it is too spicey for me this time..."

"Alastor...do- do you happen to make jambalayah?" He nodded happily, clapping his hands together. "Yes! My mothers recipe of course, it's truly delicious!" You walked up to him and huffed. Standing in front of him with tears in her eyes. "And...you lived in a nice cottage...right? Next to lake....on the edge of town." His smiled dropped a little bit. His ears flattening against his head. "Did you shoot any dear tonight love?" Alastor walked through the door and hung up his jacket, a bright smile on his face as he nodded. "A big one! it's in the back of the truck love." You reached up and ruffled his hair. A laugh leaving his seemingly always smiley face. "Oh my dear you look so tired...why don't I run a shower for you?" Alastor hummed and wrapped an arm around your waist. "Only If you join meee..." You laughed and gently hit his chest. Shaking your head no as he pouted and followed you up.

"Just far enough from the town and just close enough to the stores..." He looked down at her with a soft look. "And just a drive away from the forest..." "Oh Alastor!" You hugged him, tears in your eyes as you held onto him for dear life. "Oh how I missed you my love!" Alastor hugged you back, nearly suffocating you with how tight it was. Laughter filling up the room as he picked you up and spun you around. "Oh my!" "Me and your mother were so worried after you had died- i moved in with her to take care of her but sooner or later i had died from-" You stopped that sentence. Sniffling a little bit and looking up at him. "well that doesn't matter..." You hugged him tightly again.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #soft alastor #alastor x wife reader #amnesia #a bit of angst #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending #angel reader

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foolishlovers · 5 months

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“you should be at the club” i should be rewatching good omens, mind your own business

#me at the club: so has anyone watched that show about an angel and a demon pining for each other for 6000 years straight #the ppl there: ……….#me: it’s really good it’s called good ome-#*gets banned from the club for being a nerd*#x #foolish talks

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iwozlegit · 19 days

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Incorrect Huskerdust quotes

Angel: Alright, bro. I’ll see you next week.

Husk: Sounds good, man.

(Kiss)

(PANIC)

Angel: I think we just accidentally kissed…

Husk: Quick! Do something manly!

Angel: (High-pitch moan)

Husk: (panic intensifying) What the fuck was that?!

Angel: (crying) I don’t know, man. I’m so sorry!

#𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗! 😈#|| crack •#this was funnier in my head #I love it when pining characters friend zone each other #hazbin hotel #huskerdust incorrect quotes #incorrect huskerdust quotes #hazbin hotel incorrect quotes #incorrect hazbin hotel quotes #huskerdust #angelhusk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #viziepop #@iwozlegit

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mintaikcorpse · 16 days

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Hazbin Hotel episode where Charlie finds out that Angel Dust and Husk like each other and she does a lot of shenanigans to get them together but they all backfire and then Angel Dust and her argue bcuz Angel doesn't like his personal life being invaded and then it ends with them having a conversation like, "I appreciate your help Charlie, but- I don't want rush things. I mean- this is the first time I felt hope that something could happen for... a while. I just don't want to mess it up," and Charlie backs off and lets Angel and Husk get together at their own pace

#You all saw how she reacted to Pentious telling her he likes Cherri #she DEFINITELY loved romance and all that and she would want to help her pining friends #but i imagine Angel or Husk wouldnt like her medaling #I NEED THIS TO BE A THING IN SEASON 2 #huskerdust #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel season 2 #talking #rambling

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3am-brainrot · 9 months

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i rewatched good omens with some people over discord, this is what came of it

based on this scene:

#3am art #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fanart #crowley #nina #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #i love the fact nina just goes #“no way he likes women”#and is RIGHT #because that demon has been pining for an angel for 6000+ years #they're so fruity

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softpine · 4 months

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reach out and touch faith

[transcript]

#my great-grandma told me to always be nice to strangers because angels walk among us #and if you were nice to them for selfless reasons then they would return the favor by looking out for you #it made me super vigilant about doing favors for strangers lmao (which i guess would not be a selfless reason to help...... hm....)#i'm not saying that's how griffin interpreted this strange encounter #but he definitely took it as some type of religious experience #i would not be shocked if he told all his friends he met jesus with the long hair and everything jskdjs #anyway! asa's in his ghost era #frozen pines #camellia #asa mayfield #finn atwood

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

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thegoodthebadandtheart · 10 months

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for @wincestwednesdays week two / (will it wash out in the water or is it always in the) blood

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #wincest #wincest wednesday #in spirit a companion to my dean pining comic #it's about how. you go through demon blood withdrawal and go through purifying trials and have an angel heal you from the inside and #lose god's influence over your life. and afterwards you realise you still wanna screw your brother silly and you gotta face that part #wasn't the angels or the demons or god. it was just you.#a

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brainwormcity · 5 months

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The Boundless Echoes of Liminal Skies

AO3

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Summary:

Aziraphale bears witness to the Fall of the Starmaker and finds himself helpless to look away from his transformation. Forever changed, the two weave a complex, millennia-spanning web of moral ambiguity, mutually repressed longing, and combating powerlessness in the face of human tragedy.

It was the day of their judgment and God was nowhere to be seen. As of late that had become an increasing normality but Aziraphale was surprised nonetheless. The circumstances were anything but ordinary. After all, Lucifer, God's most beloved prince, was to be cast out of heaven at any moment.

He and the others watched from the wings as the legion of rebellious angels knelt upon the sterile white floor under the Metatron's scorching gaze, Lucifer at the forefront. His eyes scanned over those before him with incredibly deep anguish at the angels (now devils) with whom he would never have the opportunity to form friendships. He couldn't understand why anyone would turn away from good so vehemently that they would literally fracture the unity of Heaven.

Still, he forced himself to pay careful attention to the faces before him as the Metatron passed down his judgment, listing a scroll's-worth of crimes that had, so far, taken nearly a day to read over. There was no protest. There was no defense. There are some things even Heaven could not forgive. Or wouldn’t.

Aziraphale’s eyes fell upon a burst of bright red hair, the likes of which he'd only ever seen once before. The Starmaker; he had never asked his name and now he never would. He remembered though, standing beside him watching nebulas and stars erupt before them, whose lights and radiance humans’ far-off invented fireworks could never begin to compare. He had been inextricably moved by the event and then he’d never seen him again. Until this moment.

Aziraphale had found the Starmaker quite odd. He had, of course, said things aloud that terrified Aziraphale even just to think… Even though in his deepest heart of hearts, he agreed. It was an absolute terrible waste to obliterate such uncompromised beauty. Despite the tremendous fear he’d felt from his questions, Aziraphale had found him beautiful. He'd never admit it but even with the birth of the stars erupting before his eyes, he had struggled to look away from the angel whose warm, brown eyes flashed with the crackle of galaxies forming light-years away. Aziraphale's chest was tight as he watched the Fallen angel glare despondently at the bleached white floor under his knees, his robes frayed and torn from the guardians’ vicious corralling.

It had seemed like ages ago. However, when you were of the celestial body, time flowed differently. It could have been just a day for all one could tell. The vibrant smile that had graced the Starmaker’s face then was nowhere to be found as his judgment was handed down. Aziraphale couldn't recall seeing the traitorous angel on the battlefield. He may have just been lost in the distance, obscured by the glare of his flaming sword but if he had really not been there... Well, that would mean that he'd neither hurt Heaven nor helped the Fallen angels. Aziraphale wasn't sure what that would mean.

He thought of the questions the angel asked that had mirrored those he, himself, had carried in his mind, with more than a little shame. Was voicing those questions really all it took for one to be evil? When he had warned the red-haired angel of the trouble of his vocal criticisms of the Great Plan, he had never imagined this would be his punishment.

The angel suppressed a shudder and a ruffle of his wings. He vowed to himself, in that moment, to never put himself in that kind of position. He wasn't entirely sure what their punishment would look like but disconnection from the Heavenly host seemed terribly frightening, in and of itself. However, he couldn’t hold back the tendril of pity that floated to the forefront of his mind, despite knowing that this devil was his mortal enemy from that day forth.

As if on cue, the Metatron, looking down his nose at them, announced in a thunderous voice, "With these charges in mind, under the holy authority of the Lord, I condemn each of you to the fiery sulfur pits, wherein you shall have your celestial form stripped apart and mutated by the primordial ooze to reflect the foul monstrosity that lurks behind the eyes of your corporeal bodies." Aziraphale knew that by monstrosity the Metatron referred to their curiosity and rebellion. To morph their angelic bodies though? To take what their Creator made and mar it seemed a blasphemy in and of itself. Of course, Aziraphale did not dare not object. His eyes fell, again, upon the Starmaker with his red hair and brown eyes, and couldn't imagine him as a grotesquery now or otherwise.

As the trumpets sounded, the floor began to shake violently beneath them. Before anyone could cry out, the ground fell abruptly away, spilling the traitors straight into a freefall. There was a chorus of gasps all around him as Aziraphale watched them begin to plummet into the atmosphere. The victorious host cheered and laughed and funneled out through the opening in the floor to watch the condemned take their punishment.

Aziraphale, caught in a swell of excited angels, was forced similarly through the opening and quickly fanned out his wings, following the spiral of celestial beings swarming around a light-speed drop of what were, from this day forth, known as demons. A funnel cloud of sorts formed around them, echoing the bitter laughter of the angels.

He watched as the demons attempted, in vain, to spread their wings and alter their courses. Purple auras bound their wings to their backs as they tumbled helplessly, head-over-foot, towards the rapidly approaching surface of the earth. He knew that all other eyes were on Lucifer, now to be known as Satan but, nevertheless, he watched the Starmaker flail in desperation with, what Aziraphale knew he must be mistaken for, tears in his eyes.

The wailing screams of demons tore at Aziraphale’s heartstrings as he watched the devils hopelessly tumble through the atmosphere, the ozone screeching with resistance as they entered. The angels simply passed through the atmosphere miraculously to continue to jeer and taunt the losers of The Great War. To Aziraphale, it felt so very wrong. So… unangelic.

The sea below sparkled like rough-cut sapphires, waiting to dice the flesh of the demons.

'The Starmaker! Oh, the poor Starmaker,’ Aziraphale thought as he watched the Fallen angel hit the surface of the water with a bone-crushing splat. They would not die but he knew that the pain must have been immeasurable. The demons smashed into the choppy waters like screaming meteorites, the surface boiling with the heat of their atmospheric entry.

By now, many of the angels who had followed to watch had stopped short, likely with boredom. Aziraphale was again struck by the callous nature the Fall had revealed in the Heavenly host as well as the demons. The scent of their blood left its tang in the water as it ripped at their skin. Some part of him, for whatever reason, felt he owed it to his enemies to witness their unbecoming. He gasped an unnecessary breath and miracled himself a gentle entry into the foamy waves.

Aziraphale had thought that the gelatinous resistance of the water would slow the descent of the Fallen but, alas, its depths seemed to grab them and pull them into the darkness, illuminated only by the purple aura forcibly wrapped around their wings. The angel found the Starmaker again amongst the darkness, fighting the urge to reach out as the red-haired demon clawed uselessly at his own throat trying to force air into his lungs. Their miracles had been blocked and their powers were revoked, at least as long as Heaven was still in charge of their fate. They wouldn’t always be but right now, the demons were powerless. Bubbles poured forcibly from the mouth and nose of the Starmaker as he was dragged into inky blackness.

Pressure built around Aziraphale’s ears as he followed the traitors to depths that would flatten the humans that the demons had used as an excuse to rebel against the Lord. A great rift erupted in the earth, giving way to tremendous force and heat. Aziraphale faintly remembered that the architects of Earth had referred to, what this great crevasse was to become, as the Mariana Trench. He hadn’t thought it possible but the sea grew impossibly darker. Only through his miraculous powers could Aziraphale continue to watch the excruciating Fall.

The waters grew hotter and hotter still as the minutes passed, wordless screams burbling from the mouths of the demons whose descent finally gave signs of slowing. Aziraphale alighted on a nearby cliff face, his face awash with horror. At last, a molten light emerged in the distance. A vent of flaming, boiling liquid stirred at the floor of the sea, rising and falling impossibly as though it were a living being. Boiling tentacles of violently glowing magma began to ascend.

It was to his silent terror that he watched a flaming tendril wrap around the Starmaker’s bare ankle with a sizzle, yanking him down relentlessly. His hands groped uselessly above him as his once finely-kempt hair fanned around his head, its red paling, even in near-pitch darkness, only in comparison to the molten sulfuric being he was being pulled away by.

It was only as the Starmaker disappeared into the magma, with a horrible sucking sound, that Aziraphale allowed himself to look away. His eyes burned with the salt of the ocean and unshed tears. It all felt so wrong. In all of his existence, he’d never witnessed something that had been so very gruesome, even in the heat of battle. It shook him so deeply to his core. They were their enemies, yes but were they not, also, living creatures? Had they truly not been worthy of mercy?

He knew he should go. He was now the only angel beneath the waves and the task had been done. He had fulfilled his moral obligation. The Fall was complete. Still, Aziraphale found himself latching onto the ledge staring into the bubbling ooze, his cheeks stinging from the burning vents below. The darkness was frighteningly silent for quite a long time. Regardless, the angel found himself frozen where he lay against the cliff face, hot, sharp rocks digging into his front.

Suddenly a sound akin to cannon fire filled the trench. First, one enormous fireball launched through the darkness disappearing into the distance. Aziraphale knew by the energy level alone that it had been Satan. All at once, a cacophony of thump thump thump erupted, like so many bottle rockets launched into separate directions. Into the black of the ocean. Before he understood it, his senses had latched upon a particular aura. It was mangled and twisted but still terribly familiar. He couldn’t stop himself from launching after a glowing, writhing mass of flesh through the dark water.

He was operating on instinct and ethereal senses alone. The saltwater burned his eyes and pulled his typically coiffed curls flat against his scalp as he ripped through the water after the being. He only barely managed to keep up with the impossible speed at which the demon had been cast out. He could not make out the exact shape of what he was following. Between the darkness and the speed, all Aziraphale could see was a rapidly warping black mass.

The aura was then abruptly ascending in the water. Light began to pool on the surface and before long, the demon shot out of the water, leaving tidal waves in his wake. Still, Aziraphale was helpless to stop himself from following at a speed that humans would likely always struggle to imagine, let alone achieve. The being seemed to be locked in a catapulting motion, circling the earth over and over in a way that might have made Aziraphale dizzy, were it not for his being ethereal.

The air screamed at the speed. He surmised that it had likely been a few hours since the Fallen had been expelled. He could see the creature splitting and writhing and bubbling with it’s continued mutation. Aziraphale knew very well that he had no reason to be here.

He could feel the strain on both his corporeal form and his miraculous energy yet all he could think was, ‘You poor, foolish Starmaker! I’m so sorry!’ Then the creature was rocketing toward the Earth, no longer gathering speed but moving quickly enough that Aziraphale knew it would likely leave a crater in the face of the planet.

Lush rainforest came hauling into view and Aziraphale tucked his wings back and dove ever after the demon. He could feel the slash of branches cutting against his face but as if possessed, he was being pulled by the dark energy before him. His heart was absolutely thunderous against his sternum.

A deep, brown lake rose into view and Aziraphale stopped short with a gasp as the creature, yet again, smashed through the surface of the water. Then everything grew quiet, save for the croaks of primitive insects and amphibians in the distance, Steam rose from the surface of the lake which was now significantly more shallow than it had been just moments before. The air had become moist and sticky. It clung to his skin and robe as he moved to perch on the top of a tree, on a long branch. There, he watched. Waited. He began to pray. It felt antithetical to everything he'd been told but he began to pray under his breath for him. With his eyes squeezed shut, he prayed for the demon who used to be the Starmaker.

He began to lose heart with each moment with no signs of life from below the muddied waters which remained steaming, despite its stillness. Aziraphale feared that maybe he had been destroyed after all. The deep hurt he felt at that moment was incomparable to anything he'd known before as he stretched his wings in preparation to take flight. They ached dreadfully against his back and the feathers felt stiff and smelled strongly of salt. He chided himself for the bitter taste of his own vanity in the face of the atrocities he had just witnessed, as he ran his fingers over a white primary feather. It was as he stepped toward the tip of the branch that he heard it.

Something broke the surface of the water with a violent gasp and Aziraphale quickly retreated to the cover of leaves he’d previously been hidden within. He stared into the dark water trying to make here or there of the shadows cast across the water from the dense foliage overhanging the water. He stifled a gasp as his eyes fell upon something or someone moving through the water with a ripple. Aziraphale’s curiosity felt to him like a cruelty to bestow upon the creature below.

He could hear harsh breaths ripping through the forest floor below. Aziraphale’s hackles rose at what the Starmaker had become. He felt a flash of terror at that moment. He couldn’t think of another time in his life he had felt such palpable fear… Had it been his? It felt alien in his chest but he knew that that was impossible. Right?

The water sloshed riotously for a moment and then slowly, ever so slowly, something emerged onto the shore of the lake. Aziraphale had never seen anything like it before. What lay upon the ground below him was a massive serpent. It’s scales were a vibrantly shining, inky blackness, reflecting the dimming sunlight with a blazing orange sheen. It was as if it- No, he was radiating a fiery glow beneath his flesh.

Without warning, the serpent curled upon himself, writhing in the mud. His body twisted at impossible angles, serpent or not. One moment, he appeared to Aziraphale as an absence of light. A black hole. The next he seemed to fold in and out of dimensions that the eyes that the Lord had bestowed upon Aziraphale couldn’t quite seem to comprehend. He had thought that the transformation had been completed. He had watched it happen for hours.

He was struck with a sudden realization. This creature was no longer helpless at that moment. He was willfully reshaping his own existence. He was rejecting the mutated form forced upon him by the primordial ooze and like he had that day with Aziraphale beside him, was forcing something entirely new into existence. Aziraphale tensed with anticipation.

It was with a shock of lightning and boom of thunder that everything ceased. The rainforest was deadly silent, though out of fear or reverence, Aziraphale could not say. The air was tense with static and ozone and the angel was all too aware of the thrumming of his heart against his chest.

A plume of black smoke billowed up from the forest floor, and from behind its curtain emerged a figure. The being before him stood bare at the water’s edge. Waves of hair cascaded down the demon’s back in loose ringlets, an impossible searing red-orange. The strands bifurcated at his shoulders revealing jet-black wings, intimidating in their span and iridescence.

He seemed to tremble on his feet and for a moment, Aziraphale thought he might tumble to the ground. The demon instinctively spread his wings to balance and right himself. He appeared startled by the sight of his own marred feathers and in a manner that was just nearly, but not quite, amusing, he turned about in a circle, trying to glimpse his new wings in their entirety.

He eventually settled for gripping a feather, at one wingtip, between two fingers before letting it drop. He had abruptly become absorbed by his own fingers. They were as slender and lithe as Aziraphale remembered but now they were tipped with deadly sharp, black claws. He watched the demon access his work. He seemed to count each finger and toe and test each joint to ensure they moved properly in the way that his previous corporeal body’s had.

Aziraphale felt ashamed. He understood that what he was witnessing was something terribly intimate. He was an interloper upon this damned creature but he could not… Refused to look away. Underneath the shame rang out a feeling of deep purpose for which the angel had no name. Against all logic, there was a certainty that he had to be here.

Finally, the demon moved his clawed fingers from the hollow of his own chest slowly up his own throat. Aziraphale could feel his hesitation. The demon probed gently at his own face, as though accounting for each contour of his cheek and the jut of his chin. Aziraphale had yet to see the demon’s face clearly because of his halo of red hair. Its shade was somehow even more striking than it had been that day before the Beginning.

The demon seemed to huff a laugh. Perhaps, the angel pondered, pleased with his work? It was then the demon knelt before the water and stared into the reflection upon the surface. Upon taking in his own countenance, though, a wave of sorrow so strong slammed into Aziraphale that it wrenched a gasp from his chest. He struggled to stay upright as the sensation battered his body.

Anguished wails rang out from below. Aziraphale pressed back against the energy to look upon him again. The creature held himself, knees against his chest, and sobbed the most painful cries Aziraphale had ever heard. He shook violently as he cried and yet more waves of desperate sadness poured from him.

Aziraphale could not understand. Just a moment ago, the demon had seemed so pleased with himself. What could have shaken him so deeply? Reality blurred around its edges as the being wept. He couldn’t stop himself.

Aziraphale began to part the leaves, everything in him crying out that he must go to him. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Though, as he reached the tip of the branch, his wings poised to dive, an echo of The Metatron’s words boomed in his head. He remembered the promise he had made to himself hours before to never allow himself to put himself in this very position. This was dangerous.

He began to step back, and as he did his wings shuffled the moist leaves around him. He froze stock still. The demon below stood suddenly. He was looking away from Aziraphale's direction and all he could see was the demon’s profile. His heart seized in his chest and his hands uselessly gripped at the air before him.

The demon screamed out in a voice wrecked from his sobs, “Who’s there?!”

Aziraphale shivered. He sounded just like he had that moment when they stood side by side, the Starmaker’s wing held above him, shielding him from the stray sparks of stardust. He hadn’t expected that. The demon spun where he stood.

“Have you come to laugh at the abomination?!”

Aziraphale knew that he couldn’t but he wanted so desperately to soothe the demon and assure him that he found no humor in his tragic circumstances. Alas, he stood with his back against the trunk of the young tree.

“Come out, you coward!”

He flailed violently in circles again before falling to his knees, at last, facing the angel’s direction.

He screamed again, with his eyes squeezed shut, “Come out!”

Finally, the demon turned his face to the trees and opened his eyes, searching the leaves. The first thing Aziraphale saw was the black scar at his temple in the shape of a twisted snake. His eyes, though. A gasp wrenched from the angel’s chest. Where his eyes were once a warm brown, they were now two orbs of piercing, molten yellow. The eyes of a serpent.

Aziraphale now understood; he couldn’t get rid of them. No matter how the demon changed his form, he would always have them. The visage that God had bestowed upon him would be forever marred with the constant reminder of his Fall from grace. A haunting sorrow filled Aziraphale, this time all his own. Tragic.

The demon was still so strikingly beautiful. All sharp angles and light, just like he had been then with the lights of stars bursting in his eyes. His cheeks were now speckled with freckles, like stars upon the expanse of space he had once painted upon. One last remnant of who he had been. The face was twisted with visceral pain.

“Where are you?” the demon screamed again, “Come out!”

Aziraphale’s body seemed to move forward of its own accord at the sight of the demon's heart-rending expression. He steeled himself against it, forcing himself back. He desperately fanned his wings, sound be damned. If he didn’t leave now, he knew that he never would.

He burned as he took in the tears pouring from those golden-yellow eyes.

Then softly, “Please.”

Aziraphale stepped from the branch forcing himself to turn away and began to fly in the opposite direction.

“Please!” the demon cried out once more, his voice hoarse and strained, before dropping to nearly a whisper, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone…”

Still, Aziraphale flapped his wings, carrying himself away from the sound of the demon’s cries and the still-assaulting waves of emotional energy. It was only as he broke the tree line of the rainforest, ascending to make his way back to Heaven, that he realized his own cheeks were wet with tears he hadn’t realized had been shed.

He was going home. He fought back a sob of his own. The Starmaker was all alone and always would be. He would never again feel the light of their home. Where would he go? Aziraphale felt an inexplicable sense of loss.

He would never, ever have the chance to comprehend what had drawn him to the Starmaker from the moment he’d laid eyes upon him. They were never to meet again amongst the stars. He thought maybe he was imagining it, but he could have sworn, in that moment, that he could still hear the demon's lamentations. He couldn't afford to let himself think about it further. He banished it from his head with a soft whisper.

'Goodbye, Starmaker.'

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