#satan admits that hell is not only the damned souls punishment but their own

[averageanonymous]

Summary: Crowley reflects on all the things he can not say.

TW: very brief (less than a sentence) mention of abuse.

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Sitting alone in his flat, surrounded by his plants, Crowley thinks that he could drown beneath the weight of all the things he doesn't say.

He tries not to dwell on it.

After all, what good does it do?

But sometimes, in the dark and the quiet, he finds himself reflecting, suffocated by solitude, caught in the realization that his entire existence is built upon an amalgamation of half-truths tangled in an increasingly complex web of lies. Their weight rests heavy on his shoulders, every false word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

Meanwhile, every true thing he has ever thought or felt is kept on a leash, chained to his heart and left to starve.

It's exhausting.

The way he pretends he gives a single shit about Hell, or Satan - he doesn't. He must play his role, though, and play it well, crafting whatever narrative is required to ensure he will never be required to take up a position back in the dark, stinking Pit. So he does, taking credit for so much of the awfulness that humans inflict upon themselves. Immersing himself in their cruelty, their wickedness, reporting on it as though it were his own cruelty made manifest, and all the while wondering, questioning in silence, how God could have created something with the capacity for such evil.

But he must never speak his loathing for the devil, for damnation, for Heaven and Hell and the Plan, the Great bloody Plan, and never admit the way the suffering of the world and all the people in it hurts him.

And it does hurt.

It hurts every time Heaven turns a blind eye to a hungry child, refuses the prayers of a beaten woman, denies the pleas of a prodigal son.

It shouldn't though. Not for him.

He's a demon, after all, stripped of Grace, damned by God Herself. He had Fallen, burned alive in boiling sulfur, been changed into this cursed shadow of himself. Hadn't that been punishment enough?

It wasn't, apparently. More penance must be owed because he, an immortal being, must watch these humans in their misery, and it hurts. What's worse is that Crowley does not understand Why.

He thinks he will never understand, and isn't sure he wants to.

And even if he could give voice to this pain, this confusion, who would hear him? God's ways are Ineffable, and all the while, Satan laughs. There is no one, no one, who sees, who cares, not the way he is compelled to see and to care.

No one, except perhaps...

Aziraphale.

The sense of drowning begins to become unbearable, sinking deeper, reaching farther. All of the pain of hiding from Hell, of cursing Heaven, of seeing the beauty of humanity dragged through the mud again and again and again by its own fallibility, it is all amplified by the agony of the lie that consumes him most of all: the facade he crafts each and every day as he forces himself to act as though he - a demon - is not entirely devoted, black heart and broken soul, to an angel.

He loves him.

A plain, simple truth.

And it is a torture to pretend as though he doesn't; as though he hasn't loved that angel for over six thousand years. To pretend that the angel is not beautiful, and precious to him beyond imagining. To pretend he isn't a balm against Crowley's brokenness, soothing his pain, easing his confusion, bringing him some semblance of peace.

But in loving him, the web of lies only ties itself tighter, and the loneliness only grows. Crowley knows, he knows, he must not reveal this truth, for both their sakes. And so he forces himself to let the years pass, not seek the angel out too often, not contact him needlessly, not ask him to go to dinner, get a drink, go for a walk, do anything, anything at all, so long as they do it together.

Oh, the way his entire being vibrates with the desire to be near him, though, near him always, his every cell and atom yearning towards him like a light-starved flower towards the sun.

The way he has to physically restrain himself from touching him when they are together: his hair, his face, a brush of fingers or legs or lips.

The way he has to hide his eyes for fear they'll give away the truth in his soul, that he would do anything, give anything, be anything, for him.

The way he cherishes every smile, every laugh, every glance, collecting them like flowers, pressed between the pages of his memories.

The way he dreams of an impossible future where they are together.

Together.

Just the two of them.

Away from all this; from Heaven, from Hell, from God and the devil, from humanity and all its suffering.

He sits in his flat, head in his hands, his plants leaning toward him as though they can sense his loneliness, as though they could help.

In the quiet and the dark, he loves, and he loathes, choking upon his silence, crushed beneath millennia upon millennia of dammed emotions, a reservoir held within the fragile walls of his heart, the pressure building, demanding release, begging for relief, but he will find no catharsis and he knows this.

He knows it

and he drowns,

and drowns,

and drowns.

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Thanks for reading 🖤🤍

I imagine this "scene" would happen sometime in the years prior to the Armageddon that wasn't. And yeah, it's literally the opposite of "Because, underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist." But know what? I'm in my feels today, so Crowley gets to be too, and that's that.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #angst #introspective #ineffable husbands #my words

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 21

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 21: Hell's economy has tanked. They have a real supply-and-demon'd problem.

(Author's note: Pronouns used for Beelzebub are ze/zem/zyr.)

It wasn't just generalized incompetence, or irresponsible usage of miracles, or anything else Beelzebub could reasonably be expected to fix or control or at least yell at someone about. No, there was no getting around it. There was a genuine, actual shortage of miraculous energy for, as far as ze could tell, absolutely no reason whatsoever.

Beelzebub's frustration was only compounded by the staff shortages. They'd lost demons over the millennia to overenthusiastic punishment, recalled more from Earth to deal with the influx of the damned that came with winning humans over to Hell, but no matter how ze sliced it, ze couldn't figure out where nearly 7% of their staff had gone. Zyr suspicions went... Upstairs. Someone really liked Her sevens. Not that ze was about to tell Lord Satan that.

Besides, ze knew through.... backchannels that the wankwings on the top floor didn't know anything about it and seemed to be under the impression their own missing were Falling. Beelzebub and Dagon saw no reason to disillusion them of this. It had, however, been impossible to investigate the miraculous energy shortage without alerting the angels of it, and in the course of this, they discovered that the angels seemed to have a miraculous energy shortage as well.

Now this was something Beelzebub could bring to the Boss: proof positive it wasn't zyr fault.

They'd been admitting more humans to Hell than to Heaven since Crawly's trick with the apple, right at the very beginning, and had dedicated entire units to Earthly temptations even after Heaven had recalled most of their angels back to HQ. If miraculous energy was linked to the number of human souls somehow, it'd be weighed in favor of one side or the other. As it stood, they seemed to have similar levels of both energy and staff shortages. There was something deeper going on.

Hopefully, ze could get through their explanation before Satan dropped them off for eight millennia in the Bottomless Pit, or something worse.

Beelzebub hated meetings with the Boss, and over the last three years since the failed Apocalypse, the Boss had only become more unpredictable, going back and forth between extreme violence and the smooth charisma that ze had literally followed into Hell all those years ago. The Apocalypse had shaken him, his mortal son's betrayal making him insecure, for lack of a more politic word. The Boss was adrift, and bringing him bad news was going to be a delicate task.

Oh Seven Circles, Beelzebub couldn't wait for the meeting to be over. Ze had a date waiting for zem topside and didn't want to be late. Ze had packaged a little present for him in a matchbox for the pub, just in case it all went pear-shaped Upstairs. If he Fell, that wouldn't be so bad: he'd survive. But if whatever happened to the 7% happened to him, well. Beelzebub literally didn't know. Having his consciousness stored away might help him avoid it, at least.

#kind of wanted to do zzzzzzze pronouns but I thought too many z's would be unreadable lmao #my writing #do it with style events #highway to pail #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens beelzebub #beelzebub good omens

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

I really want there to be a story about a passionate love affair between a character trying to save their own soul and the devil themself

#the devil literally watching their lover desperately trying to earn their way into heaven #literal definition of please do not go where i cannot follow #but knowing that hell is terrible and they can do nothing to make it any less terrible #just- #the FORBIDDEN ROMANCE #their lover cant say that they love them #because thats declaring a false idol #the devil is literally like #your soul is mine but is your heart? #showing the devil as angelic and having no/a changable gender #also #GETTING THE DEVILS POV OF THEIR OWN BANISHMENT FROM HEAVEN #have them say that the reason they questioned gods plan was because they didnt understand how god could punish those for their decisions #when he was the one that made them and made them the way where they would choose those decisions #satan questions the point of free will if humans have to choose to obey #questions why god makes people suffer if he supposedly loves them so much #why put people on earth if it is so full of sin #satan admits that hell is not only the damned souls punishment but their own #an eternity of having to punish people for choices they know they were made to make #of punishing those who didnt obey #of being mocked because if earth is so bad why would everyone rather return there then be in hell #of having to make people suffer and being hated for it #basically #i might write this

[pact-with-faith]

How Faith Earned Her Pacts: Mammon

When I think about how things might be different if there were more... Faith-like options? How she gets pacts would end up different in some cases! So I've been picking at drabbles to explore this, and here's Mammon's!

Mammon never thought he’d ever even consider making a pact with a human. He’s the Great Mammon! Second eldest of the Avatars of Sin! One of the strongest demons in the entire Devildom! What need would he have for a lowly human?

And yet… he realizes that he does need her. Just not in the way he expected.

Faith was...a strange human. So different from Solomon. She was more like an angel. So focused on taking care of others and helping them, going out of her way to do so. Obedient, and she seems genuinely scared to get in trouble. Not that Mammon can relate! It makes sense for her to not make a fuss though, since she’s surrounded by demons who are just waiting for a chance to eat her and take her soul.

However, there is one way to make her throw her sense of caution to the wind, and raise hell. Not that Mammon knew, at first.

He only realized it when he happened to hear the human talking to Satan, the two in the kitchen, working together on who knows what. Mammon only peeked in long enough to see who was there, and make sure she was safe. He didn’t want Lucifer going for his head if she got hurt, after all. Though he didn’t announce his presence either, because he heard his name, and didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. Surely they were singing his praises!

“...glad to see that Mammon hasn’t been too terrible of an influence.” Satan was saying, chuckling at the end. Asshole.

Mammon heard the human let out a huff, putting down a glass she’d been holding. “You’re all too mean to him.”

Damn straight! But… is she actually defending him? Or just playing into some grander joke?

Satan’s amusement did subside some. “Hardly. He’s a moron, and comes up with the stupidest schemes that hardly ever work out. He makes a fool of himself regularly, and never learns his lesson.” He argued matter of factly, his tone carefully even. No sign of him getting angry yet.

His brother’s words stung, even if he’s heard it a million times. Sure, he tends to act the fool, but… he’s not that stupid. He’d never admit it, (Pride may not be his primary sin, but hell if he doesn’t try to preserve it) but it tears him up that his brothers genuinely think so little of him. And if it’s all some joke, they do a terrible job at showing it.

He honestly expected the human to drop the subject there. She had a habit of avoiding conflict, especially with his brothers. Not that he blames her, they could snap her like a twig if they felt so inclined. And were willing to face Lucifer’s wrath.

“He’s not as stupid as you think,” the human countered, glancing at the blond out of the corner of her eye before fidgeting with her glass, anxiously tapping her nails against it, a habit of hers that Mammon had noticed early on in her stay. She likes the sound. “He may not be the most tactful at times, he may be at the ready with insults, but… he’s not that bad. He’s actually been a huge help, doesn’t seem to really judge me if I get lost at RAD. He actually keeps an eye out for me, and I don’t know if he does it intentionally or not, but his interruptions when I’m doing homework are always perfectly timed, he shows up when I’m getting too frustrated to make any progress, and drags me off to do whatever, and when I get back to work I’ve got fresh eyes.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, and Mammon was so tempted to go in finally, not daring to peek in to see if Satan was getting worked up or not. Knowing that he’d been eavesdropping would make him pissed, whether he was originally or not.

It felt like an eternity before anyone said anything, the silence so thick that Mammon could faintly hear the human’s… Faith’s… heart pounding in her chest.

“I see…” Satan said slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. Why was he being so cautious? It’s not like Faith posed any threat, especially to the Avatar of Wrath. “Even with all of that in mind, it doesn’t change the fact he’s greedy, and stupid to keep stealing from all of us to sell things.” He tried, though Mammon noted a hint of curiosity in his younger brother’s voice. The hell?

There was another pregnant pause, and the shift of fabric as Faith turned to Satan, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re calling him out… for being greedy?” She asked. When Satan gave a nod, curious where this was going, she asked the question again. “You are upset… that Mammon… Avatar of Greed… is greedy?”

The absurdity wasn’t lost on either demon, Satan opting for silence. But by the furrow of his brow, Faith knew she’d have to tread lightly.

She turned back to the counter, picking up her glass and drinking some of the water from it. “I may not know much about how this whole Avatar thing works, or demons, or anything like that…” She started. “But it just… doesn’t make sense to me. Punishing someone for something that they can’t control. Sure, you guys get frustrated with each other when your sins get the better of you. Asmodeus’ constant flirting and innuendo, Beel’s never ending hunger, and so on.” Clearly avoiding any mention of Satan’s Wrath or Lucifer’s Pride. “But you never seem to go at each other half as bad as you do Mammon… and it’s not the fact that his greed is affecting everyone. Beel’s hunger wiping out the kitchen of food affects everyone too.” She added, before Satan could even try to argue that.

With a sigh, she finished off what was in her glass and washed it, her hands shaking lightly. She was too hesitant to face Satan, who clearly hadn’t been expecting such a genuine argument in defense of his older brother. And Mammon hadn’t either. Damn if she wasn’t observant. His first thought was how he could try to take advantage of that for any number of schemes he had cooking, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came… it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her like that when she’s putting herself at risk to defend him from his own family.

“Why are you defending him so much?” Satan asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he watched Faith closely. This was clearly intriguing him, though he almost radiated the aura of a cat playing with it’s prey…

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him refer to you by name. Always ‘human’, typically accompanied by some semblance of an adjective to put you below him. Stupid, puny, et cetera.” Satan tried.

“Well… he isn’t wrong.” Faith shrugged, drying her hands slowly. “I am, in fact, a human,” she started with a small snort as she gestured to herself. “I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and typically when he’s calling me out for it I deserve it. And I am shorter than all of you. I’m just a human, one without any magic for that matter. So technically, I am below everyone else in the Devildom, even the Angels and Solomon. So his behavior is technically warranted.”

“The fact that you think it’s right makes it okay?” He questioned, shaking his head.

“It’s more okay than the rest of you insulting him inaccurately.” Faith said, immediately flinching as she realized what she said, even moving a hand towards her mouth as if to cover it.

Oh well, she’s already started digging, why not keep going so she at least gets her point out there before she dies? So with a sigh, she moved her hand to rub at her collar bone anxiously, not daring to look Satan in the eye, focusing instead on the floor.

“Everything you pointed out that he says to me, it’s things you’ve said to him. Stupid, moron, idiotic, useless, pathetic… For all I know, he’s just mimicking what you’ve been saying to him for who knows how long.”

Mammon figured this was as good a time as any to finally make himself known, to keep Faith from actually getting herself killed. Satan doesn’t have the same concern about pissing off Lucifer that the rest of the brothers do. He walked away a few paces, and came back towards the kitchen door with heavy steps to announce himself, knocking on the door frame with his other hand on his hip. “Oi, human!” He called to get her attention. Though… perhaps he really should get better about calling her by name.

Faith looked over quickly when he came in, clearly a bit startled by the sudden noise. But she just let out a sheepish giggle, giving him a grin and a small wave. “Hey Mammon! What’s up?”

“Weren’t ya just whining the whole walk back from RAD that you had a ton of homework to do?”

Faith groaned in complaint, even tilting her head back to emphasize the action, but started over to him to head up to her room. “Shit, yeah… thanks for the reminder.” She pouted, though he was well aware it was a pout at having work to do, not that he reminded her. “Where would I be without you?” She asked him, her tone playful.

“Probably either eaten by a lesser demon within your first few hours down here, or under the watch of one of the others. Probably Asmo.” He mused, ruffling her hair as a makeshift noogie, grinning at the giggles that got.

Faith just snorted and rolled her eyes, but paused in the doorway, turning back to Satan and giving him a sheepish smile. “Just… please, think about what I said.”

Satan gave a small nod, watching the duo head off.

“What was that all about?” Mammon asked, an eyebrow quirked as he stared down at her, his hands in his pockets. He was curious if she’d tell the truth or if she’d try to deflect.

Apparently it was deflect, as Faith reached up and tightened her ponytail some, adjusting the bow. “Just some talking about interacting with demons and stuff like that.”

So she wasn’t going to tell him what she actually did… not trying to get brownie points with him, huh? She sure was a strange one…

Deciding to move on from that whole conversation, he tilted his head a bit. “What’ve you gotta study right now that’s so important anyways?”

“The history and methods of making pacts.” Faith answered after a moment of hard concentration. She’d just been learning about it in class not a few hours ago and she was already struggling to remember what she’d spent over an hour hearing about. He could absolutely relate to that. No wonder she understood him so well.

But pacts, huh…?

Maybe it’s about time he considered one himself. Because people like Faith don’t come around every day… he’s already gotta protect her anyways, and clearly she’s willing to do the same. A pact just seems like the next logical step.

He can trust that she won’t abuse it.

#text post #fic #obey me #obey me! #mammon #faith #mc #my mc #my writing #obey me mc #obey me oc #how faith earned her pacts

[topaziraphale]

the same people who hc aziraphale as being weak/not being a warrior are the same people who LOVE crowley being this super suave tempter. hello, the whole POINT of good omens is that they are neither of what they are expected to be. aziraphale rejects his role as a warrior, but that does not mean he is weak. crowley's job is to be a this suave, amazing tempter, but meanwhile he's just Anxious. aziraphale is Strong and crowley is a tempter, its just not in the way their sides want them to be.

I think a big part that plays into the charm of these two main characters is exactly that - at first, you have certain ideas for how an angel and demon character might act, especially with how they’re normally depicted in pop culture and stuff, but then you quickly learn that they’re just not quite what you’re expecting. Aziraphale and Crowley both subvert the audience’s expectations of them as well as what is expected of them by the other characters - in this case, Heaven and Hell respectively. 

This actually ended up being way longer of an answer than I thought it would, so I’m putting the rest of it under a cut. For those that don’t feel like reading it all and just want a summary:

I basically talk about how Crowley puts up an element of coolness and style in what he does as a demon except for when it comes to direct temptations, and then I offer a little mini-dive into his psyche and how there’s a lot of vulnerability underneath his Cool And Definitely Not-Nice persona. Then I talk about how Aziraphale is in fact a soldier of Heaven, one who is capable of being a warrior, and how him not wanting to fight in the war is not a display of weakness, but rather one of great strength.

Also, all of the quotes I use here are from memory, so there’s a chance some of them aren’t exact.

When Crowley does his job, he does it with elements of coolness and style to it. (Note: What he perceives as cool, because some of the stuff he finds cool is actually kinda dorky. In a lovable way, of course.) But that’s for when he has his next big idea on how to generate petty low-grade evil. It’s how we end up with him cutting off a phone network by infesting a building with rats and using the guise of a technician to waltz in there and pour coffee into a cable-box-thingy, rather than him just snapping his fingers and making the networks go down that way. The ladder method is boring and not very cool. 

But you’ll notice he doesn’t approach direct temptations the same way. I can see where one might think he puts as much effort into being cool and suave when it comes to making temptations, due to the way he presents himself, but honestly, all he really does is just make you see something in a different light. He just, talks. Talks and makes really good points. 

“What about diabolical plans? You’re supposed to thwart the wiles of the wicked one at every turn, aren’t you? You can’t be certain that thwarting me isn’t part of the Divine Plan?”

“If there was no boy, then the process would stop. There’s a boy now, but that could change. Something could happen to him. I’m saying you could kill him. One life, for everything else.”

There’s no suave element in the way he does it, not much finesse. No extra fluff. He’s just saying what needs to be said, to make sure his idea is getting across. And it’s also fun to note that these acts of temptation are for Aziraphale - in fact, I don’t think we see him tempt humans at all after Eve. He’d rather set up elaborate schemes to ruin peoples’ days over actively participate in an act that could directly damn their souls. 

Sometimes, you have to wonder why he goes through so much effort to be this way when he knows that he’ll get in trouble for not doing his job...

Crowley puts up a front that he’s confident and content with what he is and the job he has to do. He always tries to play the act of a cool, stylish, perfect demon that is mean and evil and most definitely not a nice person. But we can see that underneath it all, he never meant to fall, and he’s still upset about it. He still doesn’t understand why it happened for what he did, and he knows he never will. He doesn’t like that the answer for it all is always chalked up to: It’s part of the Great Plan. We see him project the wrath of God onto his houseplants. We see him directly call out the nature of the Plan more than once, in the show.

I’ll even argue that he’s somewhat projecting onto Adam and Eve when he talks about how God punished them in the garden, when he first speaks to Aziraphale: “Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offense, and everything.”

Aziraphale, being an angel, is clearly part of the army of Heaven and is expected in battle. We even get reminded of this by the many times people ask him where the flaming sword is, and by Gabriel telling him he’s a mean, lean, fighting-machine. And once more when the Quartermaster informs him that his platoon is waiting for him - they wouldn’t be waiting for him if he wasn’t their lieutenant. The script book even implies his strength and power. To paraphrase the line: 

“He’s not threatening him (Crowley) with it (the flaming sword), just reminding him that he can do dangerous and very out-of-character things if he needs to.” 

And in the novel itself, it’s implied that after all this time, Aziraphale still has what it takes to fight if he absolutely must, when he picks up the sword in preparation to fight off Satan himself. 

“Once you’ve learned how to do it, you never forget.”

There’s no reason to think he doesn’t easily have the ability to be a warrior. And not only a warrior, but a strong one, at that.

Here’s the thing with Aziraphale: he doesn’t want to participate in this fight. He thinks it’s wrong, but he can’t admit it to himself, he can’t just outright say it. He jumps through plenty of mental hoops to try and find reason in the fact that Heaven wants Armageddon to happen.- he thinks his people might just be misguided, their intentions are good, sure, but he wants to show them that this way is better, that there doesn’t need to be another war, that they can save everyone. The beings of Heaven are always Good, right? For him to fully admit that what he thinks they’re doing is wrong is to also admit the flaws of his own angelic nature, that he’s just as capable of wrong, and that’s a terrifying thought. Look at how desperately he wants it all to work out:

But when push came to shove, and the entire world was at stake, and Heaven was all for it to happen despite Aziraphale’s efforts to show them otherwise, he had enough. He chose to not go back to Heaven to fight in the war. He chose to try and save the world, despite his actions being perceived as going directly against the Great Plan. In the series, he literally puts his foot down, looks the Quartermaster in the eye, and tells him: “I have no intention of fighting in any war. I was in the middle of something important, I demand to be returned!” And when nobody was helping him, he went and figured out how to get back himself. He finally had the strength to choose for himself what he thought was right over what was wrong.

I get confused and, even sometimes think to myself, Did we watch the same show?, when I see people interpret Aziraphale’s reluctance to fight as a sign of weakness or passiveness. That very decision he makes, after millennia of not daring to defy his superiors like that, took a lot of courage. It’s quite literally the heart of his character arc.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #derpy answers #good omens meta #i have no idea how i ended up ranting but here we are lol #you definitely got more than you bargained for when sending this ask anon im sorry skdjfskdjghs #derpy analyses

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

TLDR: Republicans believe themselves to be infallible and cannot be convinced otherwise

Republicans think America is perfect and always has been, while simultaneously believing that America is DOOMED and ON THE EDGE OF COLLAPSE at all times and want to bring us back to the Before Times™ when men were men and women were household appliances and minorities were someone else’s problem.  If you bring up a genuine critique of American culture or history they throw a pissbaby shit fit and start spewing nationalist platitudes, “America: Like It or Leave It!”  All their complaints stem from their perceived self-importance being eroded; they don’t like to realize that other people with differing opinions exist and should have their voices heard.  If a “brown” or a “black” or a “red” or a “yellow” is allowed to speak, that just means there’s one less space for a “white.”  All their complaints come from a slippery slope argument that if we don’t model our society after their specific cherrypicked interpretation of The Bible then we will degenerate into amoral savagery.

They say being gay is an abomination and allowing it will damn our children to hell; what they really think is that it’s gross and they don’t want to see things they think are gross.  There’s literally no good argument against marriage equality besides “I don’t personally like it.”  America is not a theocracy, so the belief system of Christianity should not be construed as the law of the land.  This stems from their belief that the Bible is infallible, “because the Bible says so.”  They don’t know and don’t want to know about the history behind it, nor the very contentious political landscapes at the times the books were written, nor the personal biases of the very human authors.  If the Bible is a literal textbook, then why?  What makes it so special?  By whose authority were its contents collated and designated THE Good Book?  If the Bible is literal, why not the works of Homer, or the Epic of Gilgamesh?  Just because the Bible says the Bible is right doesn’t make it so.  For the record, I am a Christian, and I think the Bible is just an old book.  I’m a Christian in that I follow the teachings of Christ, which can be summed up as “DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.”  I live by that, and All the ChrINOs (Christians in Name Only) need to learn it.  Jesus would be ashamed of what he saw today.

They say that abortion is baby murder, on par with ritual human sacrifice and Satan worship. They don’t understand biology, they have a Sunday School understanding of philosophy, and live in a world so black and white that they can’t even imagine a reason someone would have an abortion besides that they’re a terrible person; a woman who would have an abortion is unfit to be a mother in their eyes because they see abortion as equivalent to smothering a baby with a pillow because you don’t want to take care of it anymore.  “He or she is alive, he or she has a heart beat!”  Well, at this point is is just a blob of tissue, not a living person; a heart beat alone does not make something alive or dead.  Your life comes from your brain, not your heart.  If someone is alive the moment their heart starts, then they must be dead the moment is stops, so CPR is necromancy.  A person isn’t considered dead until their brain is dead, so if they wanted to argue that life begins at brain activity they would have a stronger argument, though still weak because brain activity is not personhood either.  Patients in permanent vegetative states on life support may have some brain activity, but they are effectively dead.  There is no way a judge, appointed by senators elected by the people of the United States, can prove that not only do souls exist but that they are created the second a sperm fertilizes an egg.  If “souls” exist, they aren’t so much created as built up over time as we gain new experienced and our brains develop.  What we are is electricity in a ball of meat jelly in our skulls, and that comes to being at a point after which abortions are already banned.  Conservatives also just want to control women; Roe v. Wade isn’t explicitly about the right to an abortion, it is about the right to body autonomy.  Do women have the right to control their own bodies, or do they defer that right to their fathers and husbands?  Are women people or property?  Can a man make decisions on a woman’s behalf?  “You must forgive my daughter; as a simple minded woman she’s fallen into a stupor of female hysteria.  We’ll have the family doctor bring out the smelling salts and leaches.”

They say that certain vices are crimes against God, but only when some people do it.  Divorce is a sin because marriage is sacred, except when a conservative does it, then it’s totally justified because of such and such explanation.  Tattoos are the mark of the beast, worn by degenerates and lesbians, except when a conservative does it, then it’s just art and harmless self expression.  Marijuana is a gateway drug and we need to lock away its addicts and throw away the key, unless a conservative does it, then it’s just recreational, no big deal, we don’t want to ruin the [white] boy’s future because of it.  A black person who does cocaine is a criminal, a white person who does cocaine is a public figure (you’d be surprised how many actors and politicians regularly use coke; they have to have high energy 24/7 in case there are any cameras, so they need uppers to keep themselves presentable).  This all springs from the fundamental conservative philosophy of “it’s okay when WE do it, but not when YOU do it.”  That’s the long and short of it.  The in-group is allowed to do things, but the out-group isn’t.  It’s the Us vs Them mentality taken to the logical extreme; WE are people, THEY are monsters.  WE are allowed to have faults, THEY have to stay in line and follow all the rules.  OUR lives matter, THEIR lives are lesser.  When you strip away the showy bits and get down to the core of their beliefs, everything stems from their desire to hurt anyone who isn’t them.  They want power, they want to be special, they want the Good Guys™ to always prevail over the Bad Guys™, and they want to be the ones to decide who is good and who is bad.  Their opinions are the only ones that matter, everyone else is wrong because they’re not them.  Now, it’s not like you could solve every problem by opening up your mind to new opinions; there are some issues that are indeed black and white with objectively right and wrong answers, but they live in a world where they are incapable of being wrong.  They see personal growth as a betrayal of the self, that admitting a fault is terrible, that apologizing and learning from a mistake is traitorous.  No, they have to double down on every single one of their beliefs to re-instill it in their minds.  They can never doubt themselves, because God will punish them forever if they ever have doubt.  They can’t ask questions or look at things from other perspectives because that would be an admission that their perspectives are fallible.  They are afraid of changing their minds so much that they refuse to even listen when someone explains their opinions because they don’t want to have their minds co-opted by Satan’s LIES!  If they hear something convincing, it’s all over, their entire world collapses, everything they believe is a lie, they lose, they go to hell forever, The End.

That is the dichotomy under which Republicans live their lives.  Nothing matters but what they believe.  They don’t believe what they believe for logical reasons, so no amount of logic will ever make them not believe it.  They’re making up their own rules to win.  You’re playing Rock-Paper-Scissors and they throw Nuclear Bomb, which defeats all three, so you lose.  You say that’s not fair, they say tough.  You throw Nuclear Bomb, and they say they have a bomb proof shield, so the bomb doesn’t hurt them but kills you, so you lose.  You can’t even beat them at their own game because they’ve been playing it longer, and they cry foul when you stoop to their level, suddenly saying that you need to be the bigger person, walking right up to the line of admitting that what they do is wrong but not quite getting there, simply reverting to the complaint that you shouldn’t be allowed to do it.  “I can, but YOU can’t.”  That’s why it infuriates me when nobody ever calls out a Republican for their hypocrisy.  They do something, a Democrat does that exact same thing, they cry foul, but nobody ever says “well, you didn’t have a problem when you did it,” they just try to excuse their own actions rather than demand justification for theirs.  Democrats are always on the defensive, they always look like they’re losing even when they’re winning, so the Republicans can use that to build their base and rally together for the occasional victory (Democrats won 7 of the last 8 presidential elections; the last Republican to legitimately win the presidency was George H.W. Bush in 1988).

I don’t know how you’d even begin to fight someone who is this far down the rabbit hole of self denial.

Democrats self-reflect, Republicans self-deflect.

Democrats are progressive, Republicans are regressive.

Now I’m sure there are no Republicans reading this, but if there are they’ll make themselves known and “totally refute” everything I’ve said with some paper thin argument that doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, but they don’t care because it stands up to them.  They only need to show one example of a Democrat failing to write off the entire party; they only need to show one black Republicans to deny the existence of racism; one gay Republican denies homophobia; one women denies sexism.  They are the party of tokenism.

They will point out the mote of dust in your eye and ignore the plank in their own.

Debate me, I have nothing better to do with my time, I’m a dirty libtard cuckflake soyboy beta with a case full of participation trophies and handouts paid for by other people’s tax dollars (funny, they think handouts are for degenerates, except when they get them.  Inheritance?  Privilege?  Never heard of them!)

#debate me #tldr #republicans #fuck republicans #conservatives #conservatism #fuck conservatives #republicanism #self righteousness #self importance #superiority complex #us vs them #tribalism #infallible #infallibility #the bible #bible #biblical #politics #political #debate #logic #abortion #marriage equality #gay marriage #abortions #social issues #God

[thelibraryofhell]

Pretentious and Cringy: RoseBlood

For our very first condemnation to this library, we are given RoseBlood by A.G. Howard. Follow the read more for a full count of its sins and stupidity. Warning: it gets long.

This doesn’t count as a sin but great Satan the damn description is way too long! This was likely not the author’s choice though which is why it gets a pass.

This YA novel from New York Times bestselling author A. G. Howard marks the beginning of a new era for fans of the Splintered series. Rune Germain moves to a boarding school outside of Paris, only to discover that at this opera-house-turned-music-conservatory, phantoms really do exist. RoseBlood is a Phantom of the Opera–inspired retelling in which Rune’s biggest talent—her voice—is also her biggest curse. Fans of Daughter of Smoke and Bone and the Splintered series will find themselves captivated by this pulse-pounding spin on a classic tale. Rune, whose voice has been compared to that of an angel, has a mysterious affliction linked to her talent that leaves her sick and drained at the end of every performance. Convinced creative direction will cure her, her mother ships her off to a French boarding school for the arts, rumored to have a haunted past. Shortly after arriving at RoseBlood conservatory, Rune starts to believe something otherworldly is indeed afoot. The mystery boy she’s seen frequenting the graveyard beside the opera house doesn’t have any classes at the school, and vanishes almost as quickly as he appears. When Rune begins to develop a secret friendship with the elusive Thorn, who dresses in clothing straight out of the 19th century, she realizes that in his presence she feels cured. Thorn may be falling for Rune, but the phantom haunting RoseBlood wants her for a very specific and dangerous purpose. As their love continues to grow, Thorn is faced with an impossible choice: lead Rune to her destruction, or save her and face the wrath of the phantom, the only father he’s ever known.

That first paragraph would have sufficed for description and given the reader some mystery. The second could have stayed but it’s on thin ice. And we don’t have ice in hell. 

To summarize the story: Rune Germain is a 16-17 year old girl from Pleasant, Texas who is, in her own words “possessed by music”. Thanks to a rich aunt and some nepotism, she gets the chance to go to RoseBlood, a conservatory in Paris that is a refurbished opera house that, according to Rune’s online research, is the place where Gaston Leroux’s Phantom Of The Opera story really took place. Upon arrival, Rune is immediately overtaken by music and makes an enemy in Katrina Nilsson by interrupting Kat’s audition for Renata in the school’s opera. She also makes friends with a few other students who really have no bearing on either the plot or Rune’s adventures. She eventually finds her Love Interest Thorn - real name Etalon, stalking her as she goes about her day to day life, and immediately falls in love with him because they are Twin Flame and Destined by Destiny. It is soon enough revealed that Rune, Thornalon, and Erik are all psychic vampires that must feed off humans to survive. It is also soon revealed that Rune and Thornalon are Christina Nilsson’s soul reincarnated and split and that Rune “has Christine’s voice”. It also turns out that Christina and Erik got married and tried to have a child who was born premature and died. Erik was driven mad(der) by the child’s death and somehow, in the 1900′s, managed to build a contraption that kept the baby “alive” until he could track down Christine’s soul and reunite the pieces and transfer it to the baby... Needless to say, he failed, Rune and Thornalon live happily ever after, and Rune suffers no consequences from any of her terrible actions through the whole novel.

Sin count time!

Sin 1: The school name! RoseBlood.  What does it have to do with anything? There are bleeding roses later in the story but why would a school name itself RoseBlood? This choice is never explained. It has no French basis, no connection to the opera-house turned school, and no connection to Gaston Leroux’s original Phantom Of The Opera.

Sin 2: Overwrought descriptions right out of the gate.

At home, I have a poster on my wall of a rose that’s bleeding. Its petals are white, and red liquid oozes from its heart, thick and glistening warm. 

Mom looks out her window where the wet trees have thickened to multicolored knots, like an afghan gilded with glitter.

I trace the window now curtained by mud, imagining the glass cracking and bursting; imagining myself sprouting wings to fly away through the opening—back to America and my two friends who were tolerant of my strange quirks.

These are all from chapter one. It only gets worse as you go.

Sin 3: Racism. Main character Rune Germain regularly describes herself as a “gypsy”. According to her, on her father’s side, she’s a g*psy. Moving through this review, I will be censoring the word. I’m a demon of hell, not a piece of shit. Rune never says Roma or Romani in the entire book. There’s no references to Romani culture, nothing about the problems Romani people face in the modern day, nothing. Rune is also as white as a piece of paper. You can see it on the cover

And in how she describes herself.

People say we could pass for sisters. We share her ivory complexion, the tiny freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, the wide green eyes inside a framework of thick lashes, and her hair—black as a raven’s wings.

If you look up pictures of Romani people, you see that they’re far from ivory skinned. 

It’s not only Rune. Her Aunt Charlotte does it too. The “Phantom” does it. And Roma culture is treated very poorly throughout the novel. Rune several times refers to her “g*psy blood” as “cursed” or “terrible”. One example:

Nausea sweeps through me at the thought. After our encounter, I realized why I was enchanted by the spider’s feeding rituals, that there was something in my g*psy blood—something tainted and wrong.

In this modern day and age, can’t humans stop demonizing and stereotyping an entire culture? Or using “half-g*psy” lineage to make characters “exotic” or “mystic”? No? Fine, I’ll see you down here eventually. 

Sin 4: The Love Interest’s backstory..... TRIGGER WARNING FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION OF RAPE, CHILD TRAFFICKING, AND REFERENCED CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT.

Rune’s Love Interest is named Etalon. His mother was sexually assaulted by a psychic vampire who is apparently from Canada - I have no idea why Howard felt the need to include that - and it ruined her life to the point where she was forced to turn to prostitution to feed herself and Etalon. A man kept trying to “buy” Etalon from her because he was beautiful. She kept refusing, and eventually, she was murdered. Etalon was quickly snatched up into child trafficking where, at one point, he was forced to drink lye water to damage his vocal cords because he wouldn’t stop singing. He eventually escaped when Erik found him and took him in, renaming him Thorn. 

Love Interests with tragic backstories are a staple of the YA genre. It makes them mysterious and interesting. It often drives the main character’s interest in the aloof and unusual bad boy. Quite often, these backstories involve dead or missing parents, being turned into a vampire or werewolf, or some combination of all of these things. It’s very rare that it gets so real. Child trafficking is a very real and prevalent issue in the world and it needs attention brought to it. But not like this. Using it as a character’s backstory is something that takes a level of skill Howard simply does not have. It needs to be written with respect to victims who might read it and not just be used to give characters a compelling but otherwise unused backstory. Thornalon never displays any indicators that the time spent in this situation traumatized him. There’s no signs of PTSD or other mental health issues that might arise from what he went through. There’s also no signs that Howard donated any money from book sales to charities like Child Fund, Save The Children, or ECPAT-USA. This is a very serious topic that NEEDS more attention brought to it and Howard glossed over it like it was nothing. 

Sin 5: Underutilized setting.  Rune comes from Pleasant, Texas and moves to Paris, France. But there’s no sense of wonder from her. She never talks about how beautiful the city is or learning French. Supposedly, the school only admits American students.

“How many foreign boarding schools offer admittance only to American kids? This is a rare opportunity . . . a taste of French culture in a setting that feels like home.”

Oooor the author couldn’t be bothered to deal with French translations or expanding the student body to include a diversity? There’s no French culture anywhere in this book. Any time Rune goes into Paris, it’s skipped over. There’s nothing about it that says Paris. It could have been set in New Jersey and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. 

Sin 6: Each chapter begins with a quote from a different author and work. Including, weirdly enough, Karl Marx... Beginning a chapter with a quote is fine, but it should be consistent. Picking a single work or author to use helps to reader see a consistency in the theme of the book. Since this is a Phantom of The Opera based story, it would make sense to use quotes from the book. Instead, the author uses a different work for each chapter, and it’s honestly just annoying. 

Sin 7: All promise, no pay off. This book has a promise of action and mystery. It’s got a fabulous premise and a setting that could be beautifully used if in the hands of the right author. But it misses the mark on good characters, action, and keeping a consistent pace. 

Punishments: For being tone-deaf and generally bad at writing, author A.G. Howard is condemned to have the dead tree in her backyard become home to her state’s buzzard population. For being a terrible protagonist, Rune Germain is condemned to find a mistake in the middle of her knitting projects just as she is about to finish them. For the terrible Phantom Iteration known as Erik, we condemn his instruments to always be just slightly out tune. And Thorn/Etalon... we order you to get a lot of therapy and a service dog. 

So let it be recorded. Today’s story time is concluded. 

#roseblood #ag howard #book snark #the library of hell #bad books #bad writing #roseblood ag howard #the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #tw child trafficking #tw rape #racist writing #g*psy slur use

[concentratedsmartass-fics]

Moving Heaven and Hell

Summary: Lucifer is in Hell, but then he’s Home.

Words: 1310

Notes: Y’all I just wrote 3 fics in a row. I wrote Hell and it was short, and I knew in advance that Home was gonna be short, and I also knew from the very start what Hell and Home were gonna be about, so I decided they went together just fine to make one, slightly longer fic. And with this, @natanweek is done. Thank you everyone, this is the most writing I’ve done in a long time, and it felt really good.

Lucifer considered himself to be the top authority on Hell. Sure, Ipos had studied it, had made that book that was supposed to save Natalie’s soul, he knew the most about it in an academic way. But Lucifer was the one that held Hell inside his body every day. Lucifer had been the one that had had Hell thrust upon him when he had rebelled. Lucifer was the one that had received Hell as his punishment.

He knew all there was to know about how Hell felt. He felt the rage of thousands of souls within him every day, constantly fought against the anguish and the anger that tore at his seams. He heard the voices whisper in his head, telling him all kinds of terrible things, hissing in his ear how good Natalie looked, how fun she would be to play with.

He’s the one that had to constantly keep himself in check, or else Hell would spill out over the brim of his being. He couldn’t let himself feel anything too strongly, couldn’t let Hell get that kind of grip on him, or else he would lose control and (literally) all Hell would break loose.

He had failed to fight against Hell in Oregon. He had failed to fight against Hell in that warehouse. He would have kept failing if Natalie hadn’t used her contract to save him. In a twisted way, he also failed because of the contract. He couldn’t help but think that if not for her saving him, he would have never taken her to the coast. She wouldn’t have gotten sick. She wouldn’t have died.

They wouldn’t be here.

He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was his punishment. Maybe when his father had given him Hell all those years ago, literal Hell hadn’t been what he meant. Maybe it was this twisted long game, designing it so that Lucifer got close to a human, allowed himself to open up to the human, allowed himself to lo--. A long game where Lucifer gets close, and then she’s taken away, and it’s his fault.

Where he manages to get her back, but not all of her. Not the part of her that cares about him, because the part of her that cares about him decided to care more about his soul than about the physical him, even though his soul was him. He could kill her all over again for that, except that he didn’t have her back to kill her.

Lucifer considered himself to be the top authority on Hell. Which was how he knew that the fear in Natalie’s eyes was so much worse. He would gladly take back all of the rage and the voices whispering if it meant he never had to see that look on her face again. Not directed at him. Not because of him.

This was his own personal Hell, designed for him by his father.

And now that book was gone, and he couldn’t save Natalie’s soul. He would go into Hell himself to retrieve it, and he couldn’t, because Hell was inside of him, and that was the worst part of the entire situation. He was the one closest to Natalie’s soul, he was the one closest to what made her be her, and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

She had used her contract so that Hell couldn’t bother him. He wondered if he’d be able to hear her voice if she hadn’t done that. If he could hear her cheering him on, telling him how much faith she had in him. He wondered if she had anymore faith in him.

Maybe if he could get her to start a new contract, he’d be able to get access to Hell again. He might be able to free her soul. But then her soul would be damned all over again, not to mention how upset she would be to learn that Hell was trying to escape again.

There was no doubt about it. This was definitely worse than Hell.

~

If this didn’t work, he was out of ideas. He had gone down every avenue, he had talked to every contact he had. He’d gone to Michael to work together to get her back. If this didn’t bring her back, he was finally going to have to accept that she was never coming back.

He sat beside her, tense, waiting for her to wake up. He had his horns away, not wanting a repeat of the last time he’d waited so long for her to wake. At least this time his back wasn’t bleeding.

Over the past few months, she had slowly stopped being so afraid of him, but she never really came to care for him again. She said that she felt like he might have been important to her, but she always said it in the past tense. He hadn’t realized how often she told him she cared, how often she called him good and important, until she wasn’t doing it anymore.

It was easier than he thought it would be to admit that he missed her. Every time she asked why he was in her house, he missed the way she would do her work while he read on her bean bag chair. Every time she told him it was weird that he was always with her, he missed the way she would drag him to different events across the city, often with her friends. Her friends thought they’d had a fight, that they weren’t talking anymore, and in a weird way, he thought he might miss them too.

At some point, Natalie’s house and her school and her friends, or maybe it was just her... something had become home to him. He hadn’t noticed until on one of their escapades, she had complained about being homesick. She’d gone on about how she was done travelling trying get a part of herself that she didn’t notice was missing, and if she didn’t notice, was it even really missing? She’d gone on, but the word that really caught his attention was ‘homesick’. It resonated with him, perhaps deeper than it should have.

In front of him on the bed, Natalie groaned softly. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a heart wrenching moment, she only looked confused. Like she didn’t understand what she was doing there, like she didn’t understand what he was doing there, and he thought he had failed for the final time.

And then her eyes widened and she sat up, nearly losing her balance. “Lucifer! Oh my god, Lucifer!” and she had only been calling him Satan or the Devil after she’d died so this had to mean- “I’ve been so mean to you!”

He studied her eyes, and they were bright, and when she looked at him she was tearing up. Over him. Over how she had treated him.

He’d done it. He’d saved her.

“Yeah you’ve been a real jackass.” If his voice caught, she didn’t seem to notice.

“I have! You were trying so hard to help me and I--” her voice caught too. “I am so sorry, Lucifer.” Before she had died, she hadn’t called him ‘Lucifer’ very often, usually just calling him Satan. But the more she said his name, the more he was able to accept that she remembered him again. That he had managed to get her soul out of Hell.

She surged forward, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight. He allowed himself to hug her back, holding her just as tightly. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in, his body slowly relaxing. He allowed himself to softly, gently kiss the top of her head, trying to communicate just how happy he was that she was back. “You can make it up to me.”

He was finally, finally home.

#natanweek2019 #satan and me #natan #fic #woo i did it #i finished #thank you everyone for reading and giving feedback #i almost gave up when i couldn't get coast up on time #its been a rough week for me #but you kept me going #thank you

[bemused-writer]

Title: Slithering Through History - Chapter 1

Rating: T

Pairings: Aziraphale & Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Summary: Crowley was all too happy to get out of Hell and cause a little trouble up in Eden. What he didn't realize is how much more wrapped up in humanity and a very particular angel he was about to become.A look at what Aziraphale and Crowley might have gotten up to throughout the biblical text and after Armageddon.

-x-

Falling entailed a great many things and poets had done a fairly decent job of capturing the horror and the chaos thereof. What they’d never quite been able to capture was what came after. Yes, hellfire, brimstone, pain, suffering, all staples of Hell but no one ever really let on just how crowded it actually was down there or just how corporate. Crowley thought it was probably due to how much more real and depressing that would have been and probably because the concept of a corporate entity wouldn’t truly exist until the 20th century.

It wasn’t so bad in the early days before human souls were being damned left and right. No, in the early days it had only been fallen angels and they’d been frightened and confused, desperately trying to sort out what they were supposed to do now they were no longer part of the Heavenly Host.

It had taken awhile for it to sink in but their punishment was to inflict pain and suffering—Satan had given them a long lecture about it in the tone of voice of a man who really didn’t care anymore and wasn’t it marvelous he had his own throne? Afterwards he’d put Beezlebub in charge whose eyes had widened comically before accepting. Crowley had had to restrain himself from giving a sibilant chuckle at the whole absurd affair.

Still, Crowley had often wondered how much of a punishment it really was if so many of them enjoyed it. Oh, they’d been reluctant at first. They’d been angels and they didn’t know much about pain, not really. It took several meetings and presentations before the seven sins were sorted out and everyone felt like they had at least some idea of what their jobs entailed.

In fairness, Crowley could admit a good number of them didn’t derive any real pleasure out of torture but they weren’t all that hung up about it either. “It’s just a job,” they would say. “Nothing personal.”

Crowley desperately tried to convince himself he felt the same. He was a demon and he would do his duty. He wouldn’t fail, not like Before.

Still, he knew the truth of it and it was he hated it down there. The second Satan said, idly, “Would you like to see the Earth, darling?” after one of his presentations on wrath he jumped on the chance as swiftly as possible.

He broke through the warm soil and felt as if he’d been reborn. He turned his head left and right and slithered about. Most snakes had legs but he thought there was something delightfully off-putting going about on his belly, no legs in sight, draping himself about trees; he was the very picture of sloth, which was, in turn, positively sinful and if sinning was to be his eternal gig he was going to indulge.

The garden was, he reluctantly admitted, utterly stunning insofar as his limited senses could tell. He supposed that was Heaven for you; always caring about presentation more than anything else.

While his eyesight was utterly shot compared to what it had been as an angel he could tell there were infinitely more colors here than there ever had been up there or down there. Heaven was very … stringent when it came to looks. He wasn’t sure he’d seen anything other than opulent whites, rivers that gleamed like the finest opals, and gossamer robes made to match when he’d been there. Every now and then there’d been a gold pillar or some such. As for Hell, they couldn’t be bothered to decorate. Some idiot had licked the wall once and died on the spot. They’d spray painted a warning on the wall and called it good and that was about as close to design as they came.

But this felt … very earthy for lack of a better word. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps of all manner of creatures. He couldn’t make out much sound though. There were some serious downsides to being a snake, he decided. The garden was nice and warm though, which was good. He didn’t think he was made for the cold.

Now, what kind of trouble should he cause?

He circumnavigated the garden and used his tongue to detect all the heavy flavors in the air, hoping to spot God’s latest creatures, the humans. He could taste something divine to the east, light as a cloud and sharp as judgment. An angel.

He’d have to steer clear of that for a while, at least until his work was done. It had been ages since he’d seen one of his previous brothers-in-arms. He’d certainly never tasted one before. He thought about that for a moment. Something about the sentiment seemed … appropriately demon-like but it wasn’t a joke that would make much sense until he understood humans more and their penchant for lewd humor.

At long last he spotted a woman named Eve. He also spotted the two trees that were off limits: The Tree of Life and The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Bad.

He considered the three for a moment. The Tree of Life was certainly handy but that would almost definitely qualify as a “good deed,” no doubt about it. Knowledge of good and evil on the other hand…. Well, it wasn’t “bad” exactly but it definitely wasn’t “good” either. In other words, it was just wicked enough to keep his bosses happy without being so wicked he felt bad about it.

Perfect.

Apparently, God found it a good deal more wicked than Crowley had. Eve and her husband, Adam, were banished from the garden lest they also eat from the Tree of Life and become a little too god-like themselves.

Also, punishments were dished out like candy. Apparently, there would be enmity between him and women, there would be birthing pangs, and men would till the earth.

I rather liked that woman, he thought glumly.

Most annoying of all was that all snakes were slithering about on their bellies. So much for originality. Needless to say, the other snakes weren’t thrilled. He avoided them for a century after. It was utterly ridiculous; they were animals and he was a demon—he was more than capable of winning any confrontation—but he couldn’t quite make himself look them in the eye all the same. He was sort of their demonic representative and, well, now they didn’t have legs.

Even small creatures would bear a grudge over that for a while.

Regardless, Adam and Eve suffered a lot more for his sin than he did. Maybe that was why he sought out the angel gazing after them longingly atop the gate. He wouldn’t readily admit it but he felt a little guilty about the whole thing and his curiosity was piqued. The angel looked utterly miserable, far more than him, which made no sense whatsoever. He wondered if they’d ever known each other in Heaven.

As he slowly transformed into a more human guise his senses changed along with him. He could hear loads better now for a start but his eyesight was still iffy albeit a little sharper than before. He could sense movement well, make out shapes, see color although not like he had a as an angel. The color was … splotchy. He supposed he was seeing the heat radiating off of things or something similar. He may have been a snake but he was hardly an expert. Thankfully, he could still taste everything on the air and that gave him enough information to get by.

He was a little disappointed he couldn’t make the angel’s features out all that well though. Still, he was the brightest object in the surrounding area by far, so he was easy to spot.

The angel jolted a little bit when he saw him. Understandable. He could just make out the pinched expression on the angel’s face; it was hilarious but he kept that to himself.

He hadn’t expected much by way of conversation. Honestly, he’d known there was a pretty high chance the angel would try to smite him but instead they had a decent enough exchange. Apparently, he’d given away his fiery sword. It was the first time Crowley had felt awe in … ages. His heart gave a little tug in his chest that he refused to name.

As they stood in the rain with Crowley safely sheltered beneath an angelic wing, Aziraphale, said, “You know, I was supposed to be the one to guard The Tree of Life for the rest of time.”

“Sounds boring,” Crowley said without hesitation. All the world to explore and he was going to be stuck guarding a gate? But then he realized, “Wait, what do you mean ‘supposed to be?’”

Aziraphale let out a put upon sigh. “Well, to quote, ‘He drove the man out, and stationed east of the garden of Eden the cherubim and the fiery ever-turning sword, to guard the way to the tree of life.’”

“Er, what exactly are you quoting?”

“A book that hasn’t been written yet,” the angel said miserably. “But the main point is I’m supposed to be guarding this gate and I’m supposed to do it with a fiery sword. Well, you see what the problem is.”

“You gave up the sword.”

“Precisely.”

“So, the humans could become immortal at any point?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I think they understand they’re banned from this place but what about their descendents? Oh, I probably did do the wrong thing. No, I know the sword bit was wrong but the rest…”

“No offense but if God wants to hide this garden I’m sure She can do just that. If you were going to be punished it would have happened already.”

The angel shifted uncomfortably, his eyes refusing to make contact with Crowley’s own. Crowley eyed him with suspicion.

After a bit more hemming and hawing Aziraphale finally whispered, “I’m not a cherubim anymore. God didn’t say anything but… I could feel it. The demotion, that is.”

“What are you now?” Crowley said with careful neutrality.

“A principality,” he sighed. “All the way down to the third sphere.”

“Not so bad. You could have gone down a lot further.”

Aziraphale paled considerably and his eyes widened in shock. It was like he was seeing him for the first time and only now understood what he was. Crowley tried not to look too uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“I suppose you make a good point,” he finally said, turning away.

“I usually do.”

Privately, he wondered why Aziraphale hadn’t Fallen. It left an ache in his chest when he remembered his own Fall and how pointless it had seemed.

“So, what will you do now?” Aziraphale said just as the storm finally passed. He looked up with a pleased little smile. Crowley couldn’t help but feel his burden lift a bit at the sight. It was nice to have someone who wouldn’t push him away even if his status as angel was utterly bewildering.

“Oh, you know, tempt people, I suppose. I’m to be stationed on Earth.”

“I suppose that is what you’d be doing,” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose I’d best keep an eye on this gate for now.”

“No offense but there’s no way I’m staying in this garden.” Although part of him desperately liked the idea of hanging about the angel. All before him was an expanse of desert and only two humans to occupy it. Crowley didn’t want to admit it but it sounded rather lonely.

Aziraphale let out a quiet chuckle. “No, I didn’t suspect you would.”

“Would be a shame if demons were the only ones trying to make a difference,” Crowley said lightly with just the barest hint of the temptation he was trying to accomplish.

“Someone needs to inspire some good in this world,” Aziraphale said consideringly.

“I’ll see you around, angel,” he said with a gentleness that surprised him. He could have pushed harder but … it just didn’t seem right.

“You know, you just might.”

When Crowley departed he decided not to resume his snake form just yet. He kind of liked appearing human. It reminded him of being an angel and, better yet, was just a little bit blasphemous because of it. The other demons had gone to quite a bit more trouble to look wicked but Crowley decided he wanted to have a bit of style. It would be a lot easier to tempt humans if he looked like them as well not that there were any new ones to try it out on yet. It was a big world though and he hadn’t yet explored most of it.

His mind made up he headed back for Hell. He’d get his report in, take a look at what God had created, see what Eve got up to, and maybe, if he was lucky, see more of Aziraphale if he was ever free to explore.

#good omens #Bemused's post #fanfic

[angelnoel026]

Chapter 4

Hours have past, no word from Mom or dad, I need to know where the Yellowstone pack are. I cant take not knowing Jules and Brendan are trapped and could be dead. Luckily Danna was going to help us get information even though I'll never know why she wants to help us. It was 11:55pm and Danna had come to the animal clinic. "I'm here let's do this." She had Ashley's spellbook and other supplies. "You sure you know what you're doing?" I was skeptical. "I've been doing this for 2 years of course I do." I gave Bryce a look to let him know to keep an eye out. "Where's Tommy?" Danna asked. Why did she want to know? "He's resting after his long night out." I was being sassy. "Look I'm not interested in Tommy anymore I know he dont want me." She rolled her eyes. Tuff luck bitch. I grinned to myself. Danna drew a satanic star on the ground with black salt. "Lay there." I did what she asked. "How do I get back?" "Once you get what you desire Lucifer himself will send you back, he only punishes the bad and your not bad." I laid back down and Danna begin the ritual. *Oh bringing of light, give this one a good flight. For she seeks answers to tell, now send this girl to hell!* everything went black. I already knew what it was like to die but dying this way was weird. I felt my soul leave my body and travel down. The fall was quick I didnt realize I was already in Hell. It wasnt like I'd imagined at all. Everything was foggy and black. Tall blackish grey walls and the screams of people getting what they deserved. "Now who do I owe the pleasure. I wasn't expecting anyone to come to Hell today." I turned around and above was a man sitting in the throne which belonged to the devil. But it didnt look like the devil, it was a human man, wearing a 3 piece suit, black hair, tall and had an english accent? "Um.. I'm looking for Lucifer can you point me to his direction." He looked like I offended him. "Well you're looking at him, I'm Lucifer Morningstar." He got out of his throne and was next to me in 5 seconds. I started laughing. "Really, you? Lucifer. You gotta be kidding me." He suddenly changed his form. Now that actual looked like the devil. His skin looked like someone had peeled it off and it was muscles. Red eyes like me and had huge dragon like wings. He started laughing cause of how scared and astonished I looked. "I've never had that reaction before." Lucifer changed back to his human form. "Okay listen I'm here for..." He put his hand up. "Your the one who set foot in my home, I'm the one who askes the questions." "Okay Mr. Morningstar the floor is yours." I bowed. "I like this one." He was talking to himself. He looked me deep in the eyes. "Now tell me pretty one what is it you desire?" I felt a trans come on me, I got lost in his eyes. "I.. I.." "Yes darling what is it?" I dont know why or how he could get ahold of me but the words just slipped out. "I want to save my loved ones." "Excellent but why come down to Hell for that, you should be asking my father for that kind of help." "Actually my 'friend' sent me down here because I'm looking for someone, perhaps you know her she goes by Ashley." "Ahh Ashley Pumpernickel. A wolf witch who has recently died and came here for killing so many times. I'm surprised me and the Detective havent caught her. But she now lives in her own punishment." I chuckled at the thought of Ashley's last name no wonder she ever used it. "If you dont mind me asking, what is her punishment?" "Come with me." I followed Lucifer as he took me to Ashley. The walk wasnt far. We got to the room she was in. "You see years ago she tried to kill this girl who was going to be a true alpha which I'll never understand. But she failed her killing and sacrifice to me which I'll never understand either I make deals with people not sacrifices. But anyways she lives with the guilt that the true alpha girl lives and she now doesnt. Come to think of it.. you kind of look like that girl... unless. Wait you are her!" Damn he really likes to go on. "Guilty" I raised my hand. "Well I'll let you 2 have alittle reunion. When your finished I shall send you back and if theres anything you need dont hesitate to ask okay darling?" "Sure whatever you say Lucifer." He went his way. I swear I feel like I'm dreaming this doesnt feel real. I entered the room and vanished inside. Bryce's point of view After Katherine went under I kept my focus on Danna. An hour had passed. "How long do these usually take?" "I dont know an hour maybe 3." "If this is some trick I swear...." she cut me off. "I'm not trying to do anything okay, I'm sick of being the bad guy, i saw where it got me too and I'm trying to redeem myself." Danna admitted. "Actions speak louder than words." She scuffed. I was still going to keep my promise to Katherine and watch her. Katherine's point of view After going through several vortexes I finally found her. There she was but Ashley didnt look so powerful she was curled up in a ball rocking back and forth. "Ashley?" She looked at me. "No! No not you again! No I cant take it anymore!" She screamed, since she wasnt a wolf in Hell she was human. I put my hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you. I come from earth I need your help." I tried to be calm about this. "Why would I help you!" "Because you will help save lives." She stood up. "What do you want?" I'm surprised how quick she was willing to help. Maybe being in Hell really did a number on her. "Do you know of the Yellowstone pack? I got into trouble with them and now they want to kill us and our friends." "Yellowstone? I havent heard of them since 10 years ago." "What happened?" "They didnt believe in wolves having magic so they tossed me plus I was the alpha's soon to be wife but I guess he didnt expect me. So before I left the pack I used magic and to clone his alpha DNA so that I too can be an alpha." "You can become an alpha like that? Isnt that cheating." "Your so lucky I can't wolf out right." I got her pissed. "Well how do I stop them?" "Simple use silverbullets." Now she was just being ridiculous. I was wasting time. I ran up to her and slammed her against the wall. I glowed my eyes. "TELL ME NOW!" I roared. She screamed. "Okay okay. There terrified by a supernatural creature called the Hellhound, they were always scared of fire. If you find one have him join you're pack. Then surround them in mountain ash and burn them alive. I know you dont like killing but it's the only way and I've seen it first hand." I listened to her heartbeat.. she wasnt lying. I let her go. "Okay I'll do it." We heard a knock on the door. "Oh Katherine darling times up." "Good luck." Ashley vanished. I was out the door in a second. "So how was it did you get what you needed?" "Yes." Lucifer put his arm around me. "Well it looks like I have to send you back. But for being a good sport let me give you this." He handed me a card, it was him in his devil form playing the piano. "What's this?" "When you decide to use this card for a whole day you shall be able to play the piano like me and have my angelic voice. It could come in handy." I didnt say anything I just accepted the gift. "Pleasure doing business with you and if you see the Detective tell her I'll be back soon." He winked at me. "Sure." I got ready but something wasnt right... Bryce's point of view Danna and I were going at it, clawing each other followed by a series of punches. "I told you I wasn't doing anything!" "No you were mumbling something under your lips I have good hearing you know!" I know she was mumbling the words 'stay down there' meaning she was trying to trapped Katherine in Hell. Before I could rip her throat with my claws we both heard a gasps like someone had taken their first breath. Katherine was back. "Katherine!" I went to her and helped her up. "Are you okay?" "Follower." Dann whispered under her breath. That does it. I went back to fighting her. Something inside me just gets angry and I cant control at times that I just want to attack. Katherine broke us up. "Hey!!! Enough!" She roared. Danna and I stopped and our eyes glowed. "That's never happened before. I've never had another alpha makes my eyes glow." Danna grabbed her stuff and ran out the door. "I'm sorry." I felt bad for lashing out like that. "It's okay we've got bigger things to worry about." "Why dont you get some rest first it's late and you just had one hell of an adventure." Katherine giggled at my reference to her having to go to Hell. She went to go sleep with Tommy. I noticed she left a card on the ground. Why does she have the devil playing the piano on it? I'll hold on to it for her. I decided to go for a run and see if I could apologize to Danna even though I still didnt like her. More to come!