#religious people or just straight up A God and their archangels. like it can be read either way bc it doesnt matter
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Last night, I heard your terrifying howling. I felt the earth tremble, as if to shake me awake as you let loose the enchanting song of demise you sing when you catch someone in your woods.
It was followed by the townsfolk pounding at my door in a panic. A child had stumbled into your woods at sunset, and had yet to return now at midnight.
Your howling had convinced the useless brutes who guarded the village that you'd claimed the child as a casualty in your forest, but the villagers had managed to convince them to let me investigate first.
Thank the sun they had.
As I ran down the path to the fields, I saw you in the moonlight. In the middle of the wheat field, standing, with a dove pale as the purest white paints in your jaws. The brutish guards had followed me, and panicked, readying arrows and shouting for the rest of the village as I ran toward you.
Then, the child peeked out from behind your hulking form, looking up sleepily as if they were not standing by wilderness incarnate. The villagers chastised the brutes angrily, the child's mother running down yelling for them as your gaze pierced straight through me.
Toward the brutes.
You dropped the dove into my hands, black ichor staining my palms as you turned and nudged the child forward into their mother's embrace. When their mother asked the child why they'd taken so long to come back with you, they'd told her that something bad had tried to eat them after they got lost.
But then the angel, the child had pointed up at you with wonder in their eyes, had saved them. You glared at the brutes, and I shared your baleful gaze. Their disrespect would not have been tolerated if the child had not been present.
You bow and snort playfully at the child as a farewell, taking the dove in my hands back into your jaws before running off back to the forest. Your home.
I help the child's mother up from the ground, and carry the child up the hill. They're tired, it's past their bedtime. The brutes stare at me incredulously as I glower at them while walking past.
I spend the night awake after that. The scentless ichor that dripped from the dove's wounds, the visceral unsettlement I'd felt while holding it, how its figure had shifted unnaturally in my hands and your jaws keeping me from resting.
That was an angel. They'd sent an angel to kill that child in your forest.
Such a tiny child, incapable of doing any wrong, and yet they'd been all too willing to sacrifice them to instil the fear of the wild, the fear of you, back inside this village. After all the good you'd done, the successful hunts you'd sanctioned in the hunting grounds of your home....
I grasped my bone-steel knife you'd made for me after I'd helped you bury one of your kin, infused with your very power and strength. It's stayed under my floorboards for months now, I've not had the heart to use it. I felt as if any usage of it would be of disrespect to you.
But now, as I steel myself and begin gathering salt, candles and half of my money from where I store it? As fury burns inside of me like a pyre at the utter guts they had to try and kill one of my own to prove naught but a silly little argument that they were too stubborn to admit they were wrong about?
I feel a wild energy pulse through the knife as I stare out my window, gritting my teeth as I think of plunging the knife I clutch in my hand into the chest of a bastard who ruined my life before and seeks to do it again. I think of watching as black ichor streams out of their wounds as you and I raid their sacred halls of false innocence and purity.
This use for our knife is a compliment to you.
#Cardwork Poetry#not rw#tags from last poetry thing still stand btw#no romantic intentions here it is Purely like. me thinking about Myself and how I Am and using this to communicate that#and as such the Guy and the Beast are both technically Me. They are both Me and its weird but they're kinda like siblings#so. yea :3c#this is related to the last writing thing btw!! a bit of a darker thing but yk#writing#writers on tumblr#btw if you get the lil reference to lead poisoning i put in here ily <33 it was intentional.#ALSO ok ok last part but. its meant to be ambiguous whether or not the people who Sent the angel are like.#religious people or just straight up A God and their archangels. like it can be read either way bc it doesnt matter#since the Dude is gonna fucking kill them anyways <3
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Free the Bird from its Gilded Cage
Synopsis: Lucifer would tell anyone who asked his greatest regret was letting humanity eat the apple. Better than admitting what he really regretted.
Notes
Golly gee good thing affairs didn’t exist back then huh!
In which Lucifer’s tism hurts his best friend, the fic.
I think I can tag this as Edenpoly considering the conversation between Lucifer and Lilith.
I give my greatest thanks to my good friend Hat who uttered the phrase “I raise a glass to the friend you could have been and drink to the monster you became” (Or something of the sort) which has not left my brain 2 years later.
No shade on other people’s depictions of the ancient archangels. I love good archangels as much as you guys but… this is very much bashing.
I’m so sorry Michael. And Azrael, and every single angel who’s characters I butcher in this AU. It’s not you guys I swear.
God on the other hand fuck you I’m not sorry.
I have been told by many people irl that I have religious trauma. I didn’t think I did but fuck it we ball.
I am so sorry this came out late but I had two assignments and I'm moving houses, I'll try not to have a repeat.
Word count: 1957
Fic under cut!
Lucifer felt Lilith before he saw her, the first woman’s aura screaming frustration and hurt louder than the tears in her eyes.
She was sitting under an aspen tree with her legs tucked to her chest.
Lucifer didn’t need to guess why she was upset; it could really only be one thing these days.
“Adam did something again, didn’t he.”
Lilith huffed and lifted her head to meet Lucifer’s gaze, “We fought, again. He still doesn’t get it.”
Lucifer sighed and sat down next to the first woman, not for the first time the little voice in his head bemoaned Adams chronic inability to listen to anyone other than God. It was really starting to cause problems in Eden.
“He’ll regret it.”
“He always does, but he still does it.”
Lucifer nodded, “He needs to learn that God isn’t right about everything,” His siblings would murder him if they knew he was spreading this kind of blasphemy, “But I do agree, it’s a little irritating.”
“It is!” Lucifer jerked as Lilith stood up abruptly and began to pace, “He’s great most of the time don’t get me wrong, but he’s just increasingly growing more and more insufferable! It’s like every time he gets better he just goes straight back to being worse!”
“Truly the trials and tribulations of the first humans.”
“I just wish he would listen to me! Not some stuck up self-important know it all who thinks I’m worthless.”
Lucifer wisely held back the instinctive defence of the Creator, “Especially when you are so much more than that.”
Lilith seemed to finally run out of steam, falling back into Lucifer’s arms and holding him tightly, “I hate this… I hate him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t… I hate the man God wants him to be.”
“I hate that man too,” Lucifer admitted, “I hate how he hurts everyone.”
Because it wasn’t just Lilith that was left hurting. Lucifer hated how he was losing track of the near silent breakdowns of Adam’s.
God created humanity different from the grand design, and every day Lucifer loathed that fact more and more.
“He’s going to win, that man.”
“Neither of us will let him.”
“He’ll let himself,” Lilith hissed right by his ear, the sound sending a shiver down Lucifer’s spine, by the choirs that felt good “Adams an idiot.”
“Yep!” Call Lucifer blasphemous, but he was so tempted to-
Lilith opened her mouth to say something, and Lucifer listened to the little voice in his head once again.
He caught her mouth with his own swiftly before pulling back, face flushing as he realised what he just did.
That was something only Adam and Lilith was supposed to do with each other.
Lilith blinked, taking time to process before giving her response, “Do that again.”
Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice.
The bark of the aspen tree was lit up by Lucifer’s wings as he pressed his lips to Lilith’s again.
And again.
And again.
Lucifer had never felt so good. He could see why Lilith and Adam like doing this. This felt so good.
- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -
It was hours until Lucifer disentangled himself from Lilith, still not having quite recovered from the experience. Sadly, he could feel the mental tug attached to his halo signifying his siblings wanting an audience with him. The last thing he wanted was to have them come down and see him with Lilith.
The moment he returned to heaven however, he had the distinct feeling that he might have messed up regardless.
Michael was pacing and muttering angrily under his breath, sharp sounds grating Lucifer’s awareness. When the archangel saw Lucifer, his wings physically bristled as he lunged forward and grabbed the Morningstar by the robe.
“You are so very fortunate that God was already growing tired of Lilith’s rebellion!”
“What?”
“Michael,” Lucifer turned to see Azrael landing nearby, “I highly doubt Lucifer knows what he has done, as impulsive as he is.”
“What? What happened,” Lucifer demanded, mantling his wings to make himself look larger as he stared down the other archangels.
“You don’t know?”
“Know what!”
“God decided to give the first man a new wife,” Michaels words cut through Lucifer’s anger and left only shock, “Made from his rib.”
“… what?”
“Yes, I had to tear it out myself,” Michael huffed, Lucifer noticed the dried red still dusting the angels gloves, “Adam tried to flee.”
“…”
“What Michael means,” Azreal shot the other a look, “Is that Adam didn’t take the information well, and saw it fit to attempt avoiding the situation entirely.”
“He was awake?!” Lucifer screeched “By the choir what is wrong with you two?!”
“It was the Creator’s wishes, none of us knew it would bring pain,” Azrael sighed, “However, it would encourage not repeating the situation…”
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Michael scoffed, “The Creator ensured Adam wouldn’t remember.”
“It would taint him.”
“It would motivate him.”
“What?”
“Our Creator has decided to take a more… hands on approach in ensuring the situation does not repeat itself,” Azrael looked uncomfortable, “Xe employed the use of divine power to keep Adam and Eve from straying from the grand design.”
Lucifer took a step back.
Michael opened his mouth to say something, but Lucifer couldn’t hear over the roar of nothing in his ears.
No.
Nononononono.
Lucifer ran.
He broke into a sprint before diving back down to Earth, landing on the soft grass of Eden he looked around desperately.
“Adam!”
“Yes?”
Lucifer turned around as Adam’s figure came into view from behind a tree, “Adam-”
His eyes were gold.
Lucifer stumbled back as he took in the first man’s appearance, Adam’s eyes were no longer the colour of earth. The familiar dark brown orbs that bore the gold of honey and of leaves in the sun were gone. In their place was the brilliant gold of divinity, of heaven, the same gold of the-
The chain attached to his wrist.
Lucifer lunged forward and grabbed his friends arm, pulling him forward and running a hand along the softly glowing cuff on Adams wrist.
It was definitely the Creator’s doing.
“Adam what have they done to you.”
“Ah, apologies, but have we met before?”
Lucifer’s golden ichor froze as he looked back up to meet that accursed golden gaze, “What?”
“It is just that… you seem familiar with me, but I do not recall ever having met you. I apologize.”
Lucifer stepped back from the first man, “What.”
“Were you present for my creation? That day was such a blur I hardly recall all those present.”
“Adam- Adam look at me,” Lucifer grabbed Adam by the shoulder, staring desperately into those too gold, too inhuman, too holy eyes “Adam. You are my best friend. You remember me don’t you?”
Adam’s eyes flickered for a moment, that familiar beautiful earth brown peeking through for a moment before being swamped by heavenly gold.
“You are an angel; how could I ever be friends with someone of a higher status such as you?”
Lucifer wanted to cry.
The Creator truly was cruel.
“Are you alright, sir?”
Lucifer couldn’t do this.
Lucifer shoved Adam away and ran like a coward, stumbling through the bushes and past trees as he ran away from the puppet wearing his best friends face.
He didn’t even talk like Adam.
The Creator just stripped his best friend of everything that made him… him.
Lucifer collapsed under a willow tree as he sobbed into his arms.
He didn’t move for a long time after that.
- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -
Lilith found him in the dim of night, her eyes sharp and he teeth bared in a rueful grimace even as she took him into his arms.
“We’re not letting them get away with this. Not this time.”
A hot flame of righteous anger sparked in Lucifer’s heart as he held onto Lilith. She was right, this crossed a line.
Lucifer wanted to rush in, to steal Adam away and find a way to break that chain.
Lilith told him to wait, to watch and observe as she would.
“Right now, heaven does not know about our rebellion, if we move too quickly we will both be destroyed.”
She was right, of course she was. Lucifer hated it though.
They had to watch Adam go through the motions of what his life used to be. The way he would no longer wander the garden without reason.
He wouldn’t play with the animals anymore or sit and relax under the sun.
Lucifer almost broke the trunk of a tree when he saw Adam tear out a plant Gabriel considered ‘too imperfect for the garden’ even though Lucifer knew that it was Adams favourite flower.
That flame of anger grew every time that damned shackle glowed and chained Adams will.
It took a little time to figure out, but if there was one thing Lucifer was sure would free Adam and Eve, it was the apples of knowledge.
They had to.
Lucifer and Lilith also watched Eve through everything. She seemed meek through the control of the Creator, but in the few moments the attention of heaven faded and the gold in her eyes let a little bit of reddish brown through, they got to know her.
She was gentle and sweet to the animals but there was a steel in her spine.
She was vibrant and wild as she chased the cheetah’s around the garden or buried her head in a grizzly bears side.
Lucifer grew to love her in a way. As little of her as he could see. But she was the one the Creator paid less attention to, and why would xe? She is supposed to be subservient to Adam.
Lucifer shifted into the form of a snake and curled through the branches of the tree of knowledge as she came into view.
Showtime.
“Eve my dear, may I borrow your attention for but a moment?” Lucifer sing-songed, drawing the girls eye as she stopped at the base of the tree.
“What is it you require of me, snake?” Eve asked, Lucifer watched intently as the telltale hint of red brown filtered into her gaze, this was the shot he needed.
“The fruit of this tree, could you tell me how it tastes to you?”
The woman flinched back as if struck, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at her response.
“I couldn’t, God said-”
“And have you not wondered why xe demands such things of you? Have you not questioned why xe forbade this?” Lucifer hissed, snapping off an apple and letting it fall to the ground at Eve’s feet, “I know, and that is why I ask this of you.”
Eve’s will fought with Heaven for a moment as she picked up the apple, but she was not gone yet, “God said that if I ate the fruit, I would die.”
“And the Creator lies to you,” blasphemy dripped off of Lucifers tongue as he all but snarled at Eve, the white-hot flame of fury envenoming his words, “To eat the apple is not to die, but to be freed. To have your eyes opened to the truth around you.”
Eve held the apple in her hands, the reddish brown in her eyes traitorously present.
“How do you know I won’t die?”
“Because my dear, I have had my eyes opened long ago. To open them is a freedom the Creator keeps from you on purpose,” Lucifer hissed, “You will not die, of that I can promise.”
Eve bit into the apple, and the chains snapped under the weight of knowledge granted.
#hazbin hotel#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#worldbuilding#writing#angst#hazbin hotel lucifer#adamsapple#fluff#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer x lilith#lilith hazbin hotel#lilith morningstar#hazbin hotel lilith#hazbin hotel eve#eve hazbin hotel#eve x adam#edenpoly#garden of eden#archangel michael#archangel azrael#god hazbin hotel#apple from the tree of knowledge#the bible#ashes to ashes dust to dust
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Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers Below:
Seeing how people react to Aziraphale, I think it’s very important to see all the factors.
Aziraphale didn’t choose Heaven above Crowley or AngelCrowley above their Crowley, they are an Earth protector but they still have a lot of hope in Heaven or even God herself, I don’t think they sees a difference between the Crowleys they know, but if both of them are in the same side its easy being together and more if that side it’s the “good one”.
Being able to cure family and religious trauma is difficult, Aziraphale was finally recognized by their “family” after years of being the good kid, and they tried (in their own way in the end) to do what they were made for, to protect the Earth, the humans, the lives God made. And okay, maybe MAYBE the coffee has something to do with Aziraphale's strange smile in the end but I don’t think that it’s out of character what happened. They really think that they alone can change the mind of an entire institution even when, since the beginning it only purpose was to have a war and win it, and I don’t think Heaven are going to really give them the power of an archangel in the decision, maybe have the face of someone who loves humanity or/and rebel in the front of the “second coming” will have something to do.
Aziraphale is a character full of hope, even in the ones who don't deserve it, in the same time, the loves to forgive, and I don’t think that forgiving the ones who wronged them is difficult. They saw a way of saving the world and they WANTED AND NEED Crowley by their side, they didn’t think about the chance of Crowley saying no when they accepted Metatron's offer.
Neil put a scene moments before where Aziraphale is giving up some of his books (even if it was an encyclopedia) to keep someone safe, Aziraphale says “Nothing lasts forever” meaning giving up his books and lovely life for safety WITH Crowley, he loves all that but he loves more life, including Crowleys
I truly love season 2 deeply even if I cried for 2 hours straight on the floor, because I know that I am able to feel all those emotions because I just see a good story being beautifully told with amazing scenes, talented actors, a genius writer, etc. I was able to see how much this story is loved and how much Neil loves Terry and his work, if you don’t like the end its OKAY because it is NOT the end, it is just a part so they can be happy together in a HEALTHY way and I just talk a little bit about Aziraphale point.
Watch the show and help them to have a beautiful picnic in Alfa Centauri in the future
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6 (dealer's choice), 7 and 37!
fic writer asks
6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?
in exdiff, it's implied here and there, but never outright stated: cnclr sparatus is a follower of a very old faith from his homeland of tiirtias that was adapted to fit the conquering cipritinians' terminology so it could survive imperialism. the gods are called spirits now and they let people believe it's just old tales, but tiirti polytheism is very much still alive, and ierian carried it to the citadel with him. in his specific case, while the statue in his office shepard fixates on is of sun-carrier, the dazduus god of the sun and the daytime/summer, his patrons are actually bright eyes, god of curiosity and strategy, and clever song, the goddess of the hunt and guardian of the dead.
7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?
gonna veer off from what everyone's probably expecting here – yes im proud of tiirtias and the great war and the council but i talk about them a lot, im REALLY chuffed with everything ive done about batarians. not just the resistance, but the hegemony itself and the perfect storm it's boiling into. bioware calls it a shadow of its former glory and i've run with that as far as i can; the hegemony is a terrible place full of terrible people, but it's also in horrific decay and cannibalizing itself to survive. the resistance isn't succeeding because good vs evil or whatever, it's succeeding because the situation is finally dire enough to make conditions right so it can succeed.
37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?
let's go with absolution, because i will never stop being feral about it. it's kind of a little character study on garrus and his tattoos, sliding into rarepair garrus/citadel dlc turian lady at the end – how he feels about his tattoos when he's younger, and how that changes as he gets older and everything goes wrong, until after omega when they're another reminder of how much he's failed, and then his adoration of tasora and how she doesn't care about the reputation he's trying to live up to and it feels freeing.
like, i'll be straight up, i don't think me3 garrus's characterization and attitude, especially towards archangel, makes sense. he was given to a different writer for me3 and you can tell. i am biting patrick weekes with my mind. why is he cocky and bragging about archangel, it was a deeply traumatic experience that kicked him down a deep dark hole, 6 months isn't that long to be okay with it to the point of casually bragging. all of his friends are dead because of him, patrick. so i love absolution because im just exploring what's going on in his head, how even though he tries to play cool he's still deeply unsettled and just trying to convince himself there's no ghosts in the mirror.
the religious imagery is a plus too, im ex-catholic and gleefully appropriating the imagery because it's sexy and also fitting for garrus. no turians don't have angels in their mythology and it's annoying but gods and altars and forgiveness of sins are still a thing i can scatter about like rice at a wedding
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From the Imperfect Series. The Six Imperfections: Conclusion.
10.6. The Imperfection of Ignorance.
Ignorance is the deliberate subjugation of reality to fiction. Religion, which is supposed to remind us of the importance of a tangible relationship between us and our intangible God. The Spirit of God uses various instruments to narrate the solutions to life’s troubles to us, but first and foremost, like Muhammad said, God expects rational thinking at all times.
Our understanding of life must always be contemporaneous and this requires consult with a Rational Being. How we can best fathom this Rational Being is the object of every faith, including Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism;
True Christians know for a fact how timeless is the nature of Christ’s Being, how invulnerable His love is for creation and these cannot be idealized more by any means, and thus unbind it from the mind so it pervades life.
There are no disappointments waiting for the human being that wants to put the Unholy Bible down for a minute and take a looksie at how naturally all this works once ignorance is dispelled.
This is still, in spite of the Republicans and Evangelicals, the Russians and the Saudi Arabians, the Chinese and the North Koreans, a beautiful world. God’s Graces are yet abundant, there remain many opportunities to find and yield to new types of infatuations with our embodied selves.
This is still, in spite of the Mormons, Republicans, Evangelicals, the Russians, Saudi Arabians, Chinese and the North Koreans, in spite of all corrupt and despotic regimes, a beautiful world.
God’s Graces are still abundant and there remain many opportunities to become infatuated with life here.
For these to be as numerous and fantastic as possible we must give up on the silly and outright horrible ideas of our ancestors and embrace the modern world. Rational people don’t mythologize the weather, don’t hate gays or black people, aren’t suspicious of how others pray or meditate, they don’t expect the world to protect their kids from the truths they have chosen to live without.
They don’t hunt Jews down or speculate on when Jesus will come again and appear first, to them, on their beach front property in the Holy Land. Books are the problem. Religious Books. We need to think rationally about what to do with all these outdated Books.
In the Kitab al Jilwa, Tawsi Melek, the King of Angels, the Archangel says:
1.9. All the books of those who are without understanding are altered by them; and they have declined from them, although they were written by the prophets and the apostles. That there are interpolations is seen in the fact that each sect endeavors to prove that the others are wrong and destroy their books.
3.1. I lead to the straight path without a revealed book; I direct aright my beloved and my chosen ones by unseen means.
3.8 .Thus the government of the worlds, the transition of generations, and the changes of their directors are determined by me from the beginning.
The advent of the Book of Mormon, the most important scripture ever written, has taught us God is yet willing to employ rational beings to whom to dictate scripture to.
The Book of Mormon was instrumental in overthrowing slavery in America and had a huge impact on the mistreatment of Native Americans, and started the first environmentally conscious political movement in the world.
But just look at what ignorance of its purposes has done. Over time, we have blurred its real intentions, the creation of a contemporary blueprint for spiritual life alongside mechanized war, genocides, clear cutting, gender and sexual equality, and used it as a blunt instrument instead.
In the hands of rational beings, like Abraham Lincoln who was a Mormon Prophet, the Book helped life and the living caught up to each other, and history changed for the better. At a price, of course, one we had to pay. In the hands of fiends like Tony Perkins, James Dobson and Barbara Green, life has been tortured and become imperiled as never before.
There should be no contest between the manifest reality, our perception of the facts, God’s Plan and His Preeminent Graces and our inner observations of the self due to the influences of religious persons or scripture.
See 2 Nephi 32:
1 And now, behold, my beloved brethren, I suppose that ye ponder somewhat in your hearts concerning that which ye should do after ye have entered in by the way. But, behold, why do ye ponder these things in your hearts?
2 Do ye not remember that I said unto you that after ye had areceived the Holy Ghost ye could speak with the btongue of angels? And now, how could ye speak with the tongue of angels save it were by the Holy Ghost?
3 aAngels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, I said unto you, bfeast upon the cwords of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will dtell you all things what ye should do.
4 Wherefore, now after I have spoken these words, if ye cannot understand them it will be because ye aask not, neither do ye knock; wherefore, ye are not brought into the light, but must perish in the dark.
5 For behold, again I say unto you that if ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will ashow unto you all things what ye should do.
6 Behold, this is the doctrine of Christ, and there will be no more doctrine given until after he shall amanifest himself unto you in the flesh. And when he shall manifest himself unto you in the flesh, the things which he shall say unto you shall ye observe to do.
7 And now I, Nephi, cannot say more; the Spirit stoppeth mine utterance, and I am left to mourn because of the aunbelief, and the wickedness, and the ignorance, and the bstiffneckedness of men; for they will cnot search dknowledge, nor understand great knowledge, when it is given unto them in eplainness, even as plain as word can be.
The Prophet, Joseph Smith echoes Muhammad: Seek great knowledge and dispel ignorance first, abandon wickedness, which Smith identified as corruption in the church and government, and continually haul it all out into the Light.
He said to speak in the tongues of Angels, not read old books and repeat the rote, monotonous mistakes billions of dumbasses have been making for thousands of years at great expense to the innocent and even to themselves.
Receive the Holy Ghost and He will tell you what to ponder and show you what you must do.
Here ends the instruction called the Six Imperfections contained in the Srimad Siddha Upanishad, the exploration of the perfection of method found in the Sanatan Dharma, the Science of the Eternal.
Beyond words, beyond thought, beyond description is Prajñāpāramitā, the Perfection of Virtues,
Unborn, unceasing, the very essence of space
Yet it can be experienced as the wisdom of our own awareness:
Homage to the mother of all accomplished persons of past, present and future!
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#30 - Why should you read Wish?
It is often hard to find a story where the representation of gods and demons intertwines with queer themes without it being about how we are condemnable for the sins of the flesh we commit, according to some religious beliefs. In contrast, in real life, it’s absolutely normal to see people that have faith in some higher being also celebrate life without feeling the need to push away a part of who they are.
But then, it’s not always that we need to connect godlike creatures and religion, and this is one instance where we definitely don’t need to. Angels exist in a number of faiths around the world, but also in other cultural settings and writings where these creatures make themselves present to humans.
There are a number of different interpretations of who they are, how they act, and their connection to the human race. To be honest, their relationship with humans, and their counterparts, demons, are also the origin of a ton of different media, which is why we’re talking about them in the first place.
Angels and demons falling in love with each other, and with humans, and losing their place as higher beings are enough to become a subject of our issue today.
The thing that calls the eyes when you open the first volume of CLAMP’s Wish, is the beauty of the drawings, and how they express a state of being and of feeling. All the settings and characters are beautifully conceived to highlight the beauty of the human body, but also, the androgynous nature that can be attributed to it.
And in this story, we see a lot of that. It serves as the perfect allegory for representation, especially for people who don’t feel comfortable in the identity attributed by society to them, but that also pride themselves in choosing something different for themselves. It is important to point out that there’s a very interesting scene where we see our main character, Kohaku, trying to explain what kind of creature he is, not human, not man or woman, something in between, and nothing at all.
Still, their features are quite human, and the feelings they develop are human-like, their actions too. In this mundane story about how the red-string of fate connects us all, we get characters who had to give up their place in life for love. There are archangels and demons falling in love, and humans and angels doing the same.
We already talked about Kohaku, who is an angel from heaven that was sent to Earth to find one of the archangels from the sky that ran away to pursue their feelings for someone else. On that mission, Kohaku comes to Earth and loses his full power, and ends up finding a human that helps him, Shuichiro. The man is a doctor that seems a bit aloof and distant from everyone else, but he has a kind heart and, of course, dreamy features.
There’s definitely a certain type of coding for these two characters, and some people might not like it, perhaps I would be one of them a few years ago, but in the same way one can interpret their interactions as straight-washed, there’s an inherent queerness to these characters, and how they present themselves that is incredibly enticing. And as we see the plot developing, and meet more characters that come from high above and down below, we realize that a lot of them are queer. And that’s not even a wish from the reader, mind you.
If there’s beef that I have with the story would be the ending, but not because it’s not good and happy. It’s a happy ending, and whoever follows CLAMP’s stories knows that they love to kill their main characters every now and again, which is not what happens here. Our main heroes get their happy ending, but there are sacrifices involved for them to be together. And it feels a little bit overdone, but it is what it is.
And yet, it feels very relatable to our current state. And I’ll say why. One might go further and analyze the role of this god they talk so much about in the story, and how that being shows human emotions, making it more approachable, but also vile and selfish--which could be an allusion to the power some religions have over their faithful throughout history. And that comes to remind us that, even things that are parts of who we think we are might hurt us in the long run, because we are always changing and growing.
But there’s nothing too religious about the story, don’t worry. It’s just the parallels I’m drawing here because I was brought up quite religious myself, though I never really had to battle against past reckoning during my teen years to get over the prejudice. Yeah, I was lucky like that.
Beyond the religious aspect, the story is quite sweet, if a bit saccharine at times. The jokes are good and will get some laughs out of you. And there’s the art that is so powerful and beautiful you can’t help but spend moments in those pages just catching every detail. There are no cut corners in the art department, for sure. The characters are also so expressive, we can absolutely read their emotions before they spell them out for us.
All in all, Wish is a sweet story about angels, demons, and humans coming together to live on Earth because of the power of love. We might joke about that emotion, and I definitely think some stories rely too much on that, but here it makes sense. For humans, love seems like a loaded sentiment, and at times hard to really fathom by ourselves, but in our media, it’s very prevalent. Still, when we lack representation for a lot of things in the West, there was already queer content brewing on the other side of the world for a while now.
You can read the entire story in an afternoon if you’re eager to reach the end. And also, revisit the drawings later, because they are gorgeous.
If you can, read Wish.
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Season 5 Lucifer
welcome to my unsolicited thoughts about Season 5 of Lucifer.
as an avid and veteran series binger AND a talker-while-watching-a-movie-or-series-but-does-not-want-to-spoil-anything-for-my-friends type of person, i have finally dedicated a space and found a good way to let all my thoughts out as i watch a movie or series when i am alone when i can’t bother a lot of people because (1) they don’t want to be bothered and (2) i don’t want to spoil things for them.
so here are my thoughts, and of course, SPOILERS AHEAD.
BTW, i LOVED all of Lucifer! but this season was a slow burn for me.
ep1
drug scene at Lux; is Amenadiel mean now?
so is Lucifer himself in his own hell loop when he became the ruler of hell? his own guilt towards his father? idk (to be frank, i don’t remember the past episodes except for the fact that he is now back in hell)
the premise of the first episode is cute!
side note after the title card: i remember how much i loved the soundtrack for Lucifer!
Maze is still hot.
I love how Maze and Chloe’s relationship developed and how they don’t have to use words to communicate.
Amenadiel’s and the Psychologist’s house HAHAHAHA i love it.
is Charlie Jesus? His mom’s faith in front of Ella is like every mom plus every religious person ever haha
YES. ELLA. YOU. DESERVE. A. GOOD. GUY.
self-improvement is now a meme, huh?
Dan is me.
comment on drug scene: Amenadiel is still the same, haha!
Maze and the card, haha!
how was the guy in the mask face (did i just say mask face?) blurred but in the party, Los Angeles was in perfect accuracy. excuse me.
coming out of the dead: “oh sorry, that’s so gross!” LORDT HAHA
love you, Charlie! hope you don’t feel like you have to perform because your mom expects a lot from you and that’s so ironic because she’s a psychologist!
Dan’s speeches about parenting: i get it tho, parents try to love their child, sometimes, they just don’t know how
also, i think it’s the sister but Chloe’s just a softie
lol Maze is jealous that Chloe got to talk to Lucifer and trying to say that they don’t need Lucifer.
OOF MAZE.
i forgot about what happened with Eve.
GUYS THE MURDERER IS LITERALLY GOING TO ESCAPE.
the amount of projection as defense mechanism in this episode is too much it feels like it’s too on the nose.
but i do love the parallel between what’s happening on Earth and in hell.
the amount of layers in this question either it’s Lucifer’s or his or his sister’s (assuming it is his sister who was behind his murder)
ok apparently it’s not his sister.
me in law school:
sana all kaya kang mahalin na babalik from hell. kilig aq.
also, after all these years, Lucifer’s house has been so clean!!! wala man lang alikabok
if she’ll be fine without him then who tf is that?
ok i read the synopsis for the next couple of episodes. i don’t like spoilers. don’t make the same mistake.
ep2
i’m Ella when it comes to my friends’ special people HAHA
also, i love the slight lean to one side to show us that this is not the real Lucifer.
why does he have to be naked???
it’s so funny for me how they have to reestablish him. LUCIFER NEVER LIES HAHAHAHAHA yes we can remember now after you repeated it 3x.
ALSO WHY IS EVERYTHING TO ON THE NOSE. EVERY SECOND IS A METAPHOR FOR SOMETHING. was it always like this?
Oh Michael. Nice. Was he an archer? We love the American accent.
how can Amenadiel not know that was Michael? GANON KA IDENTICAL SIZ?
we love the unnecessary car chase just to reinstate the fact that this is a crime show
that slomo with the wings!!!
also everything is so slow with this show!!! idk why but everything feels just a little bit slower (or maybe i just want lucifer and chloe to be together? idk)
gwapo ni lucifer nung nagmomol sila ni Maze pls
cringe ng elevator scene
ykw. i think it’s because i like the lucifer character that’s why i’m impatient. he hasn’t been appearing the way i want him to.
see. you don’t have to remind me so much about the show because i know he was supposed to say “what is it that you truly desire” not fear. I FEEL LIKE THIS SEASON IS DUMBING THE PEOPLE WHO LOVED THE SHOW FOR SO LONG. okay sige.
either she knows it’s not him or SHE’S REALLY THAT NICE AND POWERFUL OF A HUMAN BEING.
oh i’ve been questioning whether they had sex already and this episode answered my question
CRINGE coffee scene: the spoon???
random question: are angels virgins? so is Michael a virgin?
what kind of a person would just go deep on someone else’s pocket just because they ran out of money?
knew it Maze won’t do Chloe dirty like that!
thanks Chloe. u know better than that. (full disclosure: I THOUGHT SHE WAS ACTING BADLY APPARENTLY A GOOD ACTOR CAN ACT BADLY TO PROVE A POINT?)
literally just liked it and now there’s a new secret that was said too soon.
God baka naman pwede mo ko gawing Chloe Decker char.
AH so interesting. Lucifer = Desire. Michael = Fear. Too on the nose again but that time, i needed the guidance because i am a dumbass.
God ain’t raising his children right!
ep3
yes explain everything to me it’s literally not like we have been binging this show for 2 hours straight
see, the Lucifer character is really endearing. i’m enjoying myself again hahaha. (well, i guess Lucifer when he’s with Chloe?)
can i just say that Tom Ellis was born for that role. he fits is so well that him acting as his own twin doesn’t sit well with me.
i just feel like this show was written by a psychologist who liked watching murder shows.
it’s Lucifer, Chloe!!! siya yon.
ep4
love Lucifer-Chloe tandem!
we love how the actors can sing and the show gives them a chance...
one thought: is everyone going to play a double of who they are?
also is Maze the daughter of Lucifer?
i love how they’re transcending mediums, reminds me of Community with their random episodes.
there you go, Chloe’s doing the double acting too.
Now it’s Linda. (so maybe this is the episode i was asking about earlier).
Now it’s Ella.
omg is this why i loved fleabag, it took forever for the Priest and Fleabag to finally do it? no. i just love the Priest.
Charlotte’s back! and the distance from the table shows how not okay they are. okay.
green screen while driving i love it.
now, Daniel!
we love gender fluidity? i guess. i’m not sure how you call it but i appreciate.
Lilith’s dress for the second song. OMG.
there again to make us dumb. after we just watched the whole thing happen, they retell the whole story again. damn. they think we dumb.
literally this season is making every girl kiss Chloe.
why did she blow the ring? was that her life?
what’s that song in the end?
OH that was the reason why she was retelling everything.
damn celestial beings are the worst parents.
ep5
i wanna be Dr. Linda Martin please.
i appreciate Lucifer wearing the bracelet until now. (but i expected nothing less)
i’ve always loved how people reacted to Amenadiel. he always seemed nerdy but these are times where he truly shine and im so happy.
i forgot. i think i was showering that time that Michael and Lucifer fought and theyre hella dumb. ok lets go toxic masculinity mixed with daddy issues.
i know they’re too on the nose ABOUT EVERYTHING but i do like the debate about free will and predestination
honestly i don’t know what’s Chloe’s issue is with being made by God probably just because i’m lazy and i just want to lay everything in His hands but coming from a very atheistic perspective where she comes from i kinda get it. i guess my only reasoning why i’m okay with God’s reason is with her is because of my fear of the unknown; my current fear with not knowing my true purpose. at least she got hers! what is she complaining about?
oh i get it now, but that’s why there’s free will Chloe (or idk, idk how God works; there’s currently no electricity in my house rn. i don’t get how that works even if we pay for our electricity all the time, how am I suppose to know God’s plans?)
but aren’t well created for something else? looking at a selfish perspective, maybe He created all of us just because He wanted to.
wow. literally when the nun kissed Amenadiel, the lights in our house opened up. if that ain’t God. idk who that is.
wow that’s so interesting.
“There are no shortcuts.” 🥺
he exposed himself i’m interested. what if i were the one to whom that was exposed to... how would i react?
another sample of them explaining to us WHAT WE ALREADY CAN INFER FROM THE SHOW (the conversation actually continues to dumb it down for the audience) but i get it. it’s religion and fiction built together.
oh i just cringed i almost vomited with this
also can i just share these. these are the funniest thing Chloe said on the show.
ep6
OOF what a horrifying way to start the episode (after the beach fiasco)
they’re holding us. that’s so adorable!!!
ugh. im still cringing.
yes jowa for ella yes pls. ELLA YOU SAID YOU WANT A NICE GUY!!! HE’S THERE!!! i’ll take him if you won’t!
Chloe if you don’t want Lucifer, i’ll take him too!
can i say how proud i am of Chloe and Dan’s relationship. it’s very healthy for what they are. add Lucifer and Dan to that too! we love men.
also the women in this show have bad taste in men. (except for who Linda married, i guess)
we love the seasonal girl’s night!
that whole charlie thing being amused by lucifer’s devil face is the best bit
was it Michael calling? and oh noooo ;(
FUCKEN MICHAEL
ngl i could have waited for another season for them to have sex on season 6 episode 6 but sure have it at season 5.
ep7
we love a person who wakes up and is not pretty. princess anna who? (i mean she is wearing full on make up, but we’re okay with that snore)
Deckerstar!! they made a word for it
our mojo??? does it only work on lucifer or does it work when she does it to others as well, we shall find out.
oh no! Lucifer’s isn’t working at all HAHAHAHA
it’s currently 2:19 AM. i am tired and sleepy.
Dan talking to Charlotte 🥺🥺🥺🥺
Fucking Michael
oh he emphasized archangel Michael. with my limited knowledge being raised Catholic, i was going to ask earlier if he was an archer because he had crooked shoulders. AND I JUST CHECKED. ARCHANGEL MEANS HIGH RANKING ANGEL NOT AN ANGEL WHO’S A FUCKING ARCHER. me being raised Cathlolic means nothing. HAHAHH
now i’m realizing if i see an angel, maybe i won’t be in the situation where i’ll see Amenadiel but Michael
NO NO NO AMENADIEL
i love this HAHAHAHAHA
knew it. called it! worked on lucifer ONLY. HOW CAN TWO PEOPLE BE THAT MADE FOR EACH OTHER. LORD BAKA NAMAN.
i’m ella shipping them.
THEYRE SPEAKING TAGALOG HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH and HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
what song was that? “When it hurts, just to breathe” same
The Shining reference no thank you pls
NAAAH i really can’t do horror things especially not with things i truly fear and when i don’t have a curtain on. No thanks.
14:54 and i’m watching again open the lights bro, it’s easier to find clues that way also i do get that they’re closing it to ensure that the killer is not there but theyre also moving like the killer is not there anyway so better open up the lights! tho i really know nothing about crime solving (i just typed crime solving instead of solving crimes didn’t i)
we stan ella’s healthy relationship!!!
can i just say there was a time where i can’t even say serial killer out loud so this is really hard for me to watch alone
i know that he’s vulnerable around the detective. BUT SHE SAID HE CHOSE TO BE SO BY NOW HE SHOULDN’T BE AFFECTED BY WHAT HE DID.
Fucken Michael.
ep8
how attractive can you be that even in slow motion, you look great.
oh apparently he did not die.
ALSO OO NGA CHLOE. US2 MO SIYA MAMATAY TEH.
CHLOE THE OVERTHINKER but i get it. BUT STILL.
you know that montage of people just studying and it’s now happening to chloe trying to solve a crime. that’s my cinematography goal HAHAHA. it’s been awhile since i’ve been invested in studying like that.
Lucifer can be just so immature some times
is KillShare based off of SkillShare?
also i’m thinking that Chloe was either taken by Michael or Dan or the SK.
that ring of Lucifer on Maze is probably the longest ring someone has waited for.
i love Maze’s eye make up! ALL THE TIME!
if the lady here is not detective and they’re relieved. that’s just fucked up, man. they were slightly relieved. that’s good acting HAHAHAHAHA.
I’M JUST PRAYING TO GOD THAT PETE REALLY IS A GOOD GUY AND NOT THE SERIAL KILLER COZ I CAN’T HATE THAT GUY PLEASE. the key and the research!!! WTF. stop trying to be smart, show!!!
his mojo is back, does that mean Chloe is gone? 😢
OH AFTER THE TAPES, I THINK IT IS THE BOYFRIEND. DAMN SHE’S REALLY INTO BAD MEN, ISN’T SHE?
I’M SO SCARED. THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME.
THE FLOWERS ARE FRIGGIN KILLING ME.
kamukha niya pa si Penn Badgley, nice.
DOES HE GENUINELY LIKE HER OR IS THE KISS TO THROW HER OFF GUARD.
AH NO. i think he genuinely likes her. except that she... you know found that he’s a fucking murderer
HAHAHA PETE
right??? why does this show have to say everything out loud like don’t already know.
oh he just used her but then he liked her. idk. the way he speaks too, so nonchalant.
preach, ELLA!!!! shout out to those who had crappy childhoods and are not serial killers! that’s the bare minimum i guess.
go, Ella!!! know your worth!
lol made me love Pete, he’s funny.
ok my assumptions were right-ish.
HAHAHA, his american accent.
his choosing to be bot vulnerable around her anymore, Michael, i think is a way of him staying alive for Chloe but ofc Chloe will think that Lucifer would rather have his vulnerability than to be with her.
baka di lang love language ni Lucifer words of affirmation, okay! HE SAVED HER LIFE SO MANY TIMES AND NOW SHE’S DOUBTING BECAUSE HE HASN’T SAID I LOVE YOU YET??? SIZ. HE LITERALLY LEFT HELL FOR YOU.
MICHAEL STOP. Michael the shit stirrer. we all have that one friend.
awa me kay Maze. she’s like a lost dog throughout the show.
does Michael want to be God?
skipped thru the speech. cringe.
what’s Amenadiel’s problem with his child having a normal cold? what’s wrong if he’s a mere mortal?
WHY IS EVERYONE IN THIS SHO’W SO INSECURE. i get so annoyed every time Chloe’s mad that Lucifer doesn’t get what he wants
it’s just that i resonate with Lucifer. it’s hard for me to say i love you and now i think Amenadiel stopped time.
oh. i thought Amenadiel’s fears about Charlie being mortal was superficial, i just realized that he was afraid that his child was going to die. but, he can take him to heaven like what he did with Charlotte, right?
oh Michael.
MAZE! MICHAEL IS A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR!!!! you’re fine! i don’t have a soul either.
celestial beings and their daddy issues and inability to communicate with one another and the desire to fight it out as if that’s the solution
HOTTEST BROTHERS EVER DAMN.
itong si God ngayon lang magpapakita anuna siz.
WHY ISN’T HE PLAYED BY MORGAN FREEMAN BUT OK.
CLIFFHANGER!!! IM MAD.
ep 8 should have been called blueballz tbh
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Title: An Angel's Lullaby
Pairing: DeanCas, Destiel
Rating: Explicit
Words: 93,662
Status: Complete
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984306/chapters/18268822
Chapter One - The Man with the Ocean Eyes
"Excuse me," a gravelly voice suddenly fills the room and Dean's pen nearly goes flying, heart pumping. It's been at least two days since anyone's even walked through those doors and being alone with his thoughts isn't exactly a new thing but for that long, it gets to be a surprise when someone says something. He keeps it under control though, doesn't look up except a quick glance at a nice pair of khakis and a deep purple jumper.
He goes back to scribbling on the piece of paper where he's supposed to be filling out a request for another truck to come and take away a few boxes of older books, bring them to a charity or a foster house somewhere.
"What can I help you with," he says, surprised that his own voice is bored considering his heart is pounding out a Jamaican beat and he's pretty sure he almost pissed his pants.
"I was just wondering if there are any books that you might recommend? I'm in the mood for reading, but not really sure what to look for," the man speaks at a low volume, as if there's anyone here to be disturbed.
Dean's intrigue is piqued though, so he pauses his doodles, knits his eyebrows together and looks up.
His eyes trace up the outline of his jumper, which wraps nicely around a narrow waist and a great chest, then leads into a white collared shirt, tan neck, a scruffy jaw that can't decide between chiseled and soft, some full lips that look like they might be chapped bit also look incredibly kissable, a straight-edge nose, and finally, two unfathomable blue eyes, shining bright as the Caribbean ocean that Dean is entirely too sure they are made of. His hair is a messy looking, bed-head-esque mop of dark chocolate brown and he smiles down at Dean as if he isn't the most attractive person Dean's ever encountered.
He's actually blown away by the fact that this man is inside a nearly failing library right now instead of out modeling a white pinstripe suit and blue tie from Men's Warehouse somewhere.
This time, Dean thinks he may actually piss his pants, but he refrains from any sort of urination onto cloth, as a mind-blowingly handsome man with some captivating blue eyes that seem to have stolen the sea is standing in front of his desk, asking about books.
He also refrains from exhibiting all of these passing thoughts on his face, because it feels like it's been a few minutes since he asked the question and the guy's probably starting to think Dean's some weirdo who can't speak under pressure.
"Library's a dying business, sir," he sits back in his chair and sets the pen down slowly. "Yeah, all the kids got their...electronic readers and...there are bookstores that sell books. Never out of stock of a specific book. Sometimes we get that; not having a specific book because all the copies got checked out...or we used to have that..."
The man stares down at him with such focus and intent, nodding along and knitting his brows together. Who is this guy?
"Nah, I mean, it's amazing that...someone wants a book so badly and loves it so much that they gotta buy it and have it forever," Dean continues, then leans forward again, grabbing a book to his left and wiggling it in the air. "Not so awesome for the library."
"That's so...intriguing...that you respect those other industries so much..." He replies, squinting, head tilting in a puppy dog manner.
Dean chuckles, setting the book down. Stares at the black cover as his smile slowly fades.
"Not much else I can do," he shrugs, shuffling through several books to find the one with the light yellow-beige cover, red outline and text reading Oliver Twist glaring up at him, and a small, square, painted picture of a boy in a hat playing at the edge of a wood sitting just above the title. "Once these places shut down, I'll inevitably drift into a bookstore, sign up to be a clerk or a stocker. 'Cause I mean," he flips the book over and opens the back page. Pulls out the name card from the pocket glued to the inside of the cover and examines it. "Yeah, a book ain't been checked out from here in three months."
He laughs and throws the book to his right, watches it skid across the table and come to a stop beside the red canvas hardcover with shiny blue letters indenting the words Of Mice and Men.
"Wow...so...I mean, how do you guys stay in business?" The guy is leaning ever forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk and arms stick straight as he balances himself over the books.
Dean smirks up at him.
"Ah," he scrubs at the back of his neck, cheeks hot, and looks away into the corner of the main entrance. "Well, charities? Mostly...and, uh, you know, school fundraisers, donations from the coffee shop down the street." He squints up at the giant skylight making up about ninety percent of the roof, thinking. "Oh, uh...this one guy. Some sorta bookwrite. Author of...damn, what are those things called...gaaahh...oh! An Angel's Lullaby!" Recognition passes over the man's face in clear abundance. "Guy's name, I'm still drawin' a blank on--"
"Chuck Shurley," the guy cuts him off but Dean is impressed. It's such an obscure book but he obviously knows it well.
"Yeah!" He points at the guy. "Yeah, yeah. You know him? I mean, his work?"
"Yeah...too well...why?"
"Ah, no...I'm just...just surprised, you know? Not a real popular selection," Dean thinks for a moment and it falls silent once more. Then: "You met him? He did a book signing here once. Not many people came, but..."
"Oh, yeah I've met him..." He doesn't elaborate, but Dean suspects it's because he just explained it for the guy, and it seems like it's making him a little uncomfortable anyway.
"Uh," he looks for something that might change the subject. "Well, to answer your first question..." He opens his mouth to continue but ends up chuckling and shaking his head. "Look, man, there's just too many books and not enough time. I've been coming to this library my entire life, probably read every single book by now. I mean, I can point you to some of my favourites, I guess, but really the only one off the top of my head and without me getting up is An Angel's Lullaby."
"Are you religious?" He asks suddenly and Dean's bewildered by the inquiry until he realises how obsessed he must seem with the book.
"Oh..." He breathes out a laugh. "Nah, that's...I'm an atheist, actually. I'm just...really into angels. Religions and...gods and deities are my thing. To be honest, I could probably list thirty Christian angels off the top of my head."
"Really," he seems impressed and Dean blushes harder. "How about...the three main archangels and...the Angel of Thursday."
Specific...and strange. But okay, he'll play along. For the sake of flirting.
"Okay...well there's Michael, the eldest son of God who was set to the task of casting Lucifer, second oldest, into hell because he claimed he could not love humanity as he loved his father. Gabriel, protector of humanity, present at the birth of Jesus Christ and the deliverer of the Holy news. And then...actually, my favourite, if I'm honest-" he looks up and watches the man's lips part, a blush crawling up his neck too, and he briefly wonders why, "-Castiel. Angel of Thursday, keeper of prayers said on that day." He smirks for a second before adding, "Always heard he was a real looker."
The man seems flustered, tugging at his jumper, pulling the v-neck away from his chest and adjusting his collar.
"Me too," he chokes out and Dean thinks it's entirely unfair how cute this man looks with a scarlet flush painting his cheeks and his hands not able to find a resting placing.
"I..." Dean starts, gazing down at his hand fiddling with the edge of a hardcover, nail scraping against the canvas. "I think I remember a few more books. Not real sure what you would like, but, uh..." He tears a corner off of the paper he was drawing on and scribbles down the titles and respective authors, then continues as he hands the list to the man. "Most of 'em are...classics...Little Women, Gone With the Wind, A Wrinkle in Time, Wuthering Heights...the original and best...version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."
The man smiles down at the list and then down at Dean, and Dean's heart leaps into his throat.
"Thank you," he says quietly and Dean's eyes flit down, small smile of modest pride lifting his lips.
"Don't mention it," he whispers back, gaze meeting the man's once more. Then he leans forward and takes up the pen again, waggling it between two fingers. He leans on his bent arm and says, "So, you plannin' on checkin' anything out today, sir?"
And, without blinking or missing a beat, the man replies with the most unexpected answer, letting the words drip from his lips like fuckin' honey when he replies, "Just you."
Dean is astonished at this guy's guts, but a brazen vocabulary and a cocky attitude is exactly the kind of thing that gets him going.
He opens his mouth in a shocked kind of smile, and shakes his head as if he's offended at the nerve of those words.
"I...don't even know your name," Dean says slowly, eyes twitching from the man's leg to his chest to his mouth to his eyes. When they meet, the man tilts his head with another squint, this one more challenging than curious. Amazing how he can squint in the same manner with just the slightest differences and change the entire composure of the movement.
But Dean doesn't let himself get too distracted by this ability, and soon encounters a moment of realisation.
The blushing, fidgeting, stumbling words when he talked about Castiel...
"Your name is Castiel," he whispers, astounded. "And you have three brothers." Then more realisation. "And you haven't met Chuck Shurley, you used to live with him."
Castiel pushes his lips out and looks down, scratches through the stubble on the edge of his jaw, nods.
"And I assume," Castiel says, squinting at the wooden triangle at the corner of Dean's desk and smiling, then continuing, "your name is Dean Winchester and you work as a librarian."
"Hey, I am not...a librarian," he protests playfully, grin growing on his teeth. "I am...a book obsessed...checker...outer."
Castiel laughs and Dean gives him a look for a moment before bursting out into his own fit of laughter at how utterly ridiculous that title sounds.
"I'm guessing that sounded better in your head?"
"It did," Dean nods and chucks the pen at one of the books, sitting back in his chair again and kicking his legs up onto his desk. He cranes his neck and reaches behind him, grips the back of another rolling chair, and rolls it over so it's facing him. Pats the seat and jerks his head. "Come on around." Castiel looks uncertain, sliding the torn paper into his pocket and pursing his lips, slight squint of his eyes. Dean chuckles. "Come on. I don't bite."
"Isn't that against the rules or something?" Castiel asks as he makes his way around the right side of the desk and through the opening in the side, in spite of his words.
"'Eah, mostly," Dean shrugs and pushes his lips out, then smiles. "But no one else is around, don't have any cameras, and-" he holds out a hand, "-I'm a rebel."
Castiel laughs wholeheartedly at this, grin huge and gummy - the most enchanting thing Dean's ever seen - and his head tilted back, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Dean notices a slight dimple in his left cheek and stores that information in the back of his mind for later, when he's having a rough day.
"What," he says, though he knows Castiel is laughing at his insanely stupid joking around.
"Nothing, you're just...really...interesting--"
"Interesting meaning...lame?" He squints and adds, "Dumbass, weirdo, bad amusement--"
"Hey, I genuinely laughed at that," Castiel points a finger at him, not hiding his grin.
Dean shakes his head, looks away, licks his lips. Things settle for a moment.
Dean plays with the hem of his black t-shirt, scratches his nails over the faded denim of his jeans, examines the familiar dark splotch of oil on the knee. He would dress nicer for work, but the last time anyone even walked through the doors was 48 hours ago, and he wasn't expecting any company today, either.
"Can't believe I'm flirting with the son of my favourite author," he mutters, reaching back over the back of his chair to snatch up another pen.
Castiel scoffs playfully, and Dean catches the smirk on his face when he turns back around.
"You call that flirting," Castiel quips, unbuttoning the wrists if his collared shirt and rolling the sleeves of both the shirt and jumper up.
Dean lets his brows drop and pushes his lips out in confusion. "Well...yeah..." Dean watches Castiel stifle a smile and glance down and away. "Why, what do you call it."
Castiel peeks up through mischievous, dark lashes and swimming eyes, lips parting in a secretive smirk.
"Honestly?" He starts, shifting in his seat and sitting back, settling his hands together in his lap. "A sad but sweet attempt to impress me."
"Oh, is that so?"
Castiel nods, grin growing across his cheeks.
"And what would you consider flirting, mr. big-shot-I-know-exactly-how-to-woo-the-ladies?"
"Well, first of all," Castiel leans forward, rests an elbow against his knee, uses the armrest to balance himself, and points at Dean with raised brows, as if he's about to teach a lesson. "Sir. There's a difference between being laid back and being downright cocky. And you-" the corner of his lips twitches up very briefly, and his cyan blue eyes turn dark "-are neither."
"So what, exactly," Dean whispers, fingers a bit too loosely woven around the pen, teeth digging into his lip. "Do you propose I do about it?"
Castiel's gummy smile is printed into his teeth again and he shrugs a shoulder, bringing his lips down in an impressed bow.
"Well, that's the first step. Ask what you are instead of asking what to change. When you know, even if it's not true, even if it's only what another person sees, you can accept it."
Dean squints, leaning further back into his chair, pressing his index finger into the ballpoint, black ink tip of the pen and the other to the textured top of the cap wrapped around the end, pushing his tongue into his cheek and pursing his lips.
"Alright, fine. What am I?" Dean imposes, then grips the tip of the pen between his thumb and finger and adds, "To you. Smartass."
This earns him a short chuckle and an approving nod.
"Well...I think...you're reserved. You act like you're king shit and like you know exactly who you are, like you don't give two flying fucks about where you're headed in life, or maybe like you've already accepted it. You act comfortable with yourself, but what nerd is ever actually satisfied with their existence?" He's leaning ever-forward and Dean's cocksure smile is ever-fading, eyes becoming wide with marvel as the man-who-knows-too-much continues. "I think you're unsure. You're scared and you...you hide things that you think no one cares about. You're upset and self-deprecating. Eyes of a guilty conscience."
Dean drops his gaze, first to the floor, then to the pen, still grasped tightly by his fingers which have fallen into his lap and which fiddle vapidly with the object, nail scraping at the black polycarbonate and over the white indents that spell out the company name.
"But," Castiel starts up again, voice soft and lilting. Dean swallows hard. "I think you have a lot to give. I think you have...maybe too much to give. Too much forgiveness, too much love, too much doubt, too much strength and care. I think you are the embodiment of generosity, but you don't take what you really need in return. And I think that can get dangerous, but I also think that nothing is ever really too much." Dean's eyes flit back up in time to catch Castiel's angling downward, past Dean's chair, through the desk, through the floor, staring wistfully at something intangible. "People are greedy. And you're too willing to give."
Dean searches the man's face for any sign that this is all some sort of joke, that he's being filmed or some shit, but all he finds is truth and wisdom and knowledge, and possibly a glimmer, just a glimpse in those blue eyes, of a bittersweet past, an origin for where these words came from.
"I was right!" He exclaims as he sits back in the chair, shoulders trembling with a silent laugh. "You like to cover up your pain with gay jokes and stupid references."
"Now, that, I can't deny," Dean nods and everything falls silent. He rocks his chair gently, side to side, left to right, fingers still fidgeting with the tips of the pen, his head tilted in thought. Castiel's mouth is pulled up into a ginger smile, his eyes faraway and swimming in themselves, in the past, in glistening memories and soft-edged, slow-motion, sunny-fielded dreams. "What about you?" He asks suddenly, voice crackling and ripping through the still air as a quiet question. Castiel eyes don't move but his smile grows slightly. "I mean...what do you think of yourself."
"Not much," he replies, head lolling to the side and back, eyes catching on the impotent, pathetic little piles of books scattered about Dean's desk. "I like books. Reading. Writing. Time-consuming, arbitrary activities which include my eyes scanning words on a piece of pressed wood?" He furrows his brows and Dean throws his head back in a genuine, full laughter that he hasn't experienced in a long time.
"I can tell you write. What do you write about? Like, schmoopy romance novels? Sci-fi thrillers? Action adventure futurism?"
"And I can tell you do a lot of librarian...ing..." Castiel squints and presses his lips together in the contrite afterthought but continues, nevertheless. "I write what my dad would call 'a bunch of gay shit'." Dean cocks a brow. "Get your head out of the gutter, it's not as sexy as it sounds. For the most part. Bottom line, I'm gay, I hang out with gay people, and I wanted to dedicate my life to writing about it, about that experience. But my dad has never approved much."
"You don't say."
"Yeah...he's...more into theology. I think the one book he's ever written that really ventures into the realm of fiction, or at least dips it's toes past the line, is An Angel's Lullaby."
"Which parts are real?" Dean scratches the pen across the bumpy plastic chair arm and watches the black ink run in splotches over the grey of the polyvinyl.
"Our names, obviously," Castiel shifts again, bringing his leg down from across his knee and kicking off from the floor so he spins in a circle. Dean watches with a strangely adoring smile. "It's funny that that's the part most people think is fiction. But, no. Mom was a Jesus nut and Dad is too passive to care, so we ended up with angelic names and weird looks from sane people. The only parts that aren't completely true are the things like our address, the colours they painted our rooms, some of the dialogue that he added or got rid of in order to make the conversations more interesting or sensible - you know, just these really inane things..."
He trails off and he's staring at Dean with expectant brows, and Dean realises he's staring too, realises Castiel probably stopped because it's weird how attentive he is.
"Sorry. You're fun to listen to."
Castiel's cheeks paint themselves a thick fuchsia and his eyes drop to his empty palms resting uselessly in his lap, the lines becoming suddenly very interesting. Then they catch on his watch and widen and his head whips up.
"Well, if I'm so interesting to listen to," he leans forward, snatches the pen from Dean's hand, then takes the other hand and begins a careful scrawl across the back of it as he continues, "why don't you call me. And we can figure out a time to meet at the-" he recaps the pen and gently replaces it in Dean's hand "-coffee place down the street. But, right now, I have to go. College...and shit. Studying for a major in English takes a lot of time away from socialising."
"Sorry to keep you, I didn't--"
"No no no! It was..." His blush deepens and he stands, head down. "It was incredible to meet you. I really hope I can see you again."
"O-Of course," Dean's voice comes out stammered and soft, crackling with hope and fear and adoration, and Castiel smiles broadly.
"Great," he whispers back, then he's rushing around the side of the desk and out the front door and Dean is left to wonder if the entire exchange was even real or if his lonely, empty mind is just playing games.
When he looks at the neat, black little numbers on his hand, he realises just how real right now is.
#destiel fic#deancas fanfic#deancas#destiel#destiel big bang#deancas big bang#ao3fic#ao3 destiel#dean winchester#castiel#big bang#first chapter#preview#supernatural#spn#destiel AU#deancas AU#mine#my work#librarian!Dean#author!Cas#major character death#instance of non-con#lots of smut#fluff#smut and fluff#and angst#idk just read it
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Whumptober #8 (stab wound)
TW: minor gore; power dynamics; Crowley swears a lot (but so do I)
Fandom: Good Omens (Crowley, Aziraphale, (references to Crowley/Aziraphale), Gabriel)
Notes: Honestly the stab wound bit is really an excuse to get to the rest of this, which is self-indulgent twaddle. Also, I am not Catholic nor did I really grow up religious, so excuse any inaccuracies.
—–
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
Aziraphale moans again, writhing in Crowley’s arms, golden ichor seeping from the wound in his abdomen, spilling onto the demon’s hands. It burns, Crowley’s skin smoldering with the holy lifeblood, but he pays it no mind.
He can feel Aziraphale slipping away, can see him dying, creamy skin turning to water, the embers of his once-rosy cheeks fading to a pathetic sizzle as Crowley grasps for a hand unable to return his desperate touch.
(He’s seen death before, has killed angels with his own hands. The knife was familiar, too familiar - the way his hand curled around the silver hilt, wrenching the blade from Aziraphale’s body. The First War, the Rebellion, he and Lucifer and all the others, spilling gold at every turn, sparing a single cold eye to the spirits they had laid to waste.)
(Self-defense, he would tell himself later, long limbs curled to his chest, acid creeping up the edges of his metaphysical form as each felled angel stared back at him, accusing, every visage melting into that familiar mop of blond-white curls and plump cheeks.)
(Hell’s tortures had evolved beyond the physical. Even the Serpent of Eden wasn’t above the mandated re-education sessions of the Damned. Physical torture could be endured. This, however had been something else, his greatest asset - his imagination - turned against him. Hell had finally figured out how to bring the snake to heel.)
Now, he would give anything to be back in the Pit, Beezlebub looming over him, Hastur grinning at their side. If this were punishment, again, for depriving the Lord of Hell of another soul, a demonic miracle he couldn’t talk his way out of, a fudged compliance report damning him a second, third, a hundredth time - he would endure it for eternity if meant the angel was safe.
Crowley pulls Aziraphale to his chest, long arms encircling the angel’s stout belly, thin fingers caressing the soft, woolen layer of sweater. He swallows the rising sob in his throat whole, like the serpent he is, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s shoulder.
It smells of pine and sulfur.
Please, I’ll do anything. Crowley trembles, his eyes squeezed shut against the inevitable onslaught of tears. He casts his pleas upwards, contravening every demonic instinct branded into his damned soul. She doesn’t listen. She never has.
But just this once…
Save him.
Desperation curdles in his chest. Aziraphale remains motionless, the sheen of sweat glistening in the reflection of the damned blade. Crowley lays a hand on the angel’s shoulder, digging into skin and muscle.
Nothing.
Crowley dips his head, trembling, fanged teeth finding that delicate patch between his own thumb and forefinger. He bites, hard, drawing blood from his own flesh, a sacrifice made willingly, even though he knows he can offer nothing that had not already been taken.
Answer me, please.
Only the dagger responds from its discarded spot on the ground, crackling with Hellfire, taunting him, laughing in return.
Damn you.
Crowley’s fist clenches against Aziraphale’s shirt. The fabric wrinkles, tight in his grasp, as if he can keep Aziraphale on this plane of existence by his own sheer determination, by dragging him bodily from the greedy arms obliteration.
“Do you hear me, God?” Yellow eyes snap open. “I said, DAMN YOU!”
Once again, Crowley draws on his occult power, pouring every bit of desperation, will, and imagination into the spell. Aziraphale’s wound remains unchanged, his waistcoast still slashed open at the third button, jacket peppered with golden stains.
“Gotta say, that’s not the strategy I would have gone with. Then again, you’re a demon. Heaven’s SoPs - Standard Operating Prayers - are probably out of your jurisdiction.”
Crowley goes rigid, almost preternaturally still save his tears, which succumb to gravity, winding down the sharp angles of his face.
Nononono. This wasn’t happening. Not now, not when he had offered the last part of himself up to an uncaring God, to a dispassionate universe, not when Aziraphale -
The leather shoes step forward, a quiet shuffle. The material gleams in the dying light, untouched by ash, by demonic brimstone, by the haze of sulfur. Crowley’s eyes travel up the perfectly pressed pants, just this side of grey, the soft, cashmere jacket, the violet scarf, matching those penetrating, condescending eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Crowley growls.
A smile, all the more insincere for how wide it is. Gabriel looks as if he has walked straight out of a stock photo session extolling the virtues of corporate synergy.
(Crowley would know. He received a minor commendation for that effort.)
Not that the archangel would have any idea. He looked down on Earth, on humanity, on any being who dared care for Her creations (creations She so easily cast aside).
Arms spread wide, hands, fingers all in alignment, Gabriel stands perfectly straight, chest forward, feet spread the ideal width.
(That had been another one of Crowley’s creations, Power Postures and You: How to Succeed in the Modern Workplace. The ideal width had not, in fact, ever been delineated and yet somehow Gabriel stood there, the utter wanker, unbothered by Hellflame, by the dying Angel in Crowley’s arms, feet spread the perfect amount.)
“I heard your prayer,” Gabriel shrugged. “Obviously.”
“I didn’t ask…you, anyone, I mean - “ Crowley spluttered, shaking his head back and forth in denial.
Gabriel’s smile widens.
“Went straight to our call center. Priority. Don’t get many of those these days, especially from such a…” Gabriel cocks his head. “Unique source. Obviously, my team had it directed to my office.”
“Obviously,” Crowley breaths, hugging Aziraphale, protective, as a child would hold their favorite stuffed animal. (Remember when you and Aziraphale raised Warlock). The thought threatens new tears, and Crowley swallows over the urge to sob.
Gabriel looks from Crowley to Aziraphale and back, disgust flitting across his face as the demon brushes a stray curl from the angel’s face, soft and more gentle than any agent of Hell had a right to be. There’s no point in hiding his affection, in denying what is before Gabriel’s very eyes.
The archangel clears his throat. ”I’m here to make a deal.”
Crowley’s hand stills, fingers caught partway through Aziraphale’s hair. “A…a deal?” he asks, the question wound with suspicion.
“Don’t look so offended, Crowley.”
It’s the first time Gabriel has uttered his name. Hell, Crowley didn’t even know the Archangel knew his name. It doesn’t hurt, to have Gabriel say it (names hold power, but not that much power), but still, it tickles at his inner organs, a strange discomfort, a crack his the edifice of his boundaries.
Gabriel looks pointedly at the fading angel in his arms.
“The Almighty made a deal with humanity - at the beginning. Well, close to the beginning. Your people had been…reassigned at that point.”
Crowley nods, not understanding. Was this supposed to be a bedtime story, a sermon, let us now read from the Gospel? He swallows his barbed commentary.
“She,” Gabriel points upwards, enunciating his words slow and sure, as if Crowley were a child, “offers humanity the chance at redemption. And in return they give Her their worship and obedience.”
Gabriel folds his hands to his front, eyebrows raised as if to say, you dumbass, aren’t you following?
That wasn’t what it was supposed to be, was it? Crowley frowns. God wasn’t hawking indulgences on the street, didn’t promise absolution in the form of quid pro quo. It was supposed to be based in faith, except faith came very certain terms and conditions, mostly don’t ask questions, obey and don’t think hard about it and how far a leap is from there to -
“All beings offering prayer are given the same options.”
Crowley hisses at the accusation. “I wasn’t - “
“Please, save him,” Gabriel mocks, his face a grotesque parody of Crowley’s pain, his desperation.
A mockery of his love.
(Demons don’t love.)
(Demons can’t love.)
Crowley runs a gentle hand through Aziraphale’s curls. This demon loves this angel. “Can you?” Nearly inaudible, a faint whisper stolen from his inner mind. “Can you save him?”
Gabriel laughs, full and hearty. It’s as pleasant a sound as a fork dragged across a ceramic plate and the hand laid on the angel’s stomach curls, fingers digging into Aziraphale’s wound. The angel whispers a blood-curdling moan, more golden lifeblood spilling onto Crowley’s digits.
“Of course we can save him! That’s what angels do!” Gabriel peers at Crowley through folded, disapproving brows, his hands flitting in a spastic, jazzy motion.
Crowley doubts Gabriel knows anything about jazz. (Aziraphale likes jazz, the smooth hiss of a brush dragged over a snare, the deep thrum of the pizzicato bass, the yearning of the saxophone under dim lights, a wordless confession as limbs slide dangerously close, a glissando of desire, a rim shot of lust and Crowley wraps a long arm around the angel’s shoulder and - )
“I mean, what do you think our purpose is?” Gabriel’s bright tenor shatters the memory. The angel slaps his own forehead with his palm. “Duh, Crowley!”
Crowley scowls, again burying his nose in Aziraphale’s neck. The angel’s skin has paled a few more shades, now nearly translucent.
“Thing thing is, I would just need….” Gabriel lets the sentence linger, angling his head towards Crowley, whose hand has now traveled clear through Aziarphale’s shoulder.
The angel doesn’t have much more time.
Crowley grits his teeth, despising himself for what he says next.
“What do you need?”
He doesn’t like this. Scratch that, he hates this, hates this stupid archangel who had condemned Aziraphale to death without a trial, who is now his only hope, this soldier, this messenger of Her, a God who can’t even be bothered to check her own damned voicemail.
“A deal. Well, The Deal.”
Crowley catches his meaning immediately. “What, worship?” The demon almost laughs. This situation, if it weren’t so heartbreaking, is absurd. “Hate to break it to you, Gabe, but demons aren’t exactly equipped for that type of thing.”
(A lie, he’s worshipped Aziraphale for 6,000 years.)
“To be honest, Crowley, the worshipping part comes later. Humanity requires fear, fear of loss. Or punishment. Doubt that last one would do much to you, having spent so much time in Hell. Except…”
Makes a pointed look towards Aziraphale.
“The thing is, you need to give them incentive. Change the behavior first. Later, they’ll come to understand the why, come to embrace the meaning of it all, to truly believe.”
“You want - “
“Serve me. Serve Heaven. No, not like that,” Gabriel rolls his eyes at Crowley’s undisguised horror. “Just a few errands here and there, a little bit of corporate espionage to get the ol’ one-up on Beezy.”
Lies. Sweet lies - Heaven had never known any other kind (and isn’t that why Aziraphale stayed loyal for so long? For a gluttonous angel who indulged in eclairs and crepes and devil’s food cake, it seems a natural predisposition). But no matter how much honey Gabriel pours on top of his shit sundae, it’s still a shit sundae, and Crowley has never shared the angel’s sweet tooth.
Aziraphale goes an impossible shade paler, twitching in Crowley’s arms. It should have been over, minutes, perhaps hours ago. No death of an ethereal being should take this long (Crowley would know), but this is somehow different, a long heat of the universe, cooling degree by degree, the end inevitable, writ in the cosmos, but the journey -
This is a damned test. Crowley sucks in air between clenched teeth. Gabriel is doing something, something he is supposed to notice, supposed to take as a gesture of good faith (but what is faith to the faithless?), as a promise, as bait.
He can save Aziraphale when Crowley (damned as he is) - can’t.
There are no other options. Say no and he loses the angel and inevitably himself. Sure, he’d try to raze Heaven on his way out, would march right up God’s front door and set fire to the whole place before succumbing happily to his own obliteration.
But here - he can make a deal, The Deal. The will angel live. And an alive Aziraphale, no matter what price Crowley has to pay - is a far more acceptable than a dead Aziraphale.
“Fine.” Crowley mutters, his face still turned downwards.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that.”
You fucking prick, you know exactly what I said.
The demon somehow manages to lift his gaze, looking straight into Gabriel’s fucking condescending twat-face.
“Fine!” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, petulant and desperate.
“Uhuhuh,” the archangel wags a finger, and just like that, Crowley wants to kill him. “Not like that.”
“Not like what, you fuck-bucket? I agreed to your stupid terms now save him!”
He’s yelling, losing control and fuck it he has no pride left, here on the floor, Gabriel towering over him in his weakest moment, all of Crowley’s vulnerabilities laid out like a sodding picnic (don’t think about those outings with Aziraphale, don’t think about sharing champagne and little sandwiches on the beach, hands linked together, sitting side by side on a tartan blanket - )
“You’re familiar with the Catholic Mass?”
“What kind of stupid question - “
“The host,” Gabriel interrupts, paying no heed to the demon’s outburst. “The chalice, the Communion?”
Crowley’s stomach drops.
Fuck.
Fuck this fucking archangel.
(Crowley bows to no one. He’ll pretend, he’ll ingratiate himself, give due deference with a smirk and an ironic gesture. After a few rounds in Hell, he may, on occasion, even be halfway genuine in those gestures.)
But this -
He can’t do this.
“Time’s running out, demon.”
The angel in his arms is a cloud. It’s wrong, so wrong - Aziraphale is gravlax in dill sauce, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, he is old books and older knowledge, he is weighty and thick and everything Crowley adores about him is drained away to practically nothing, a shadow of a shadow.
He has to do this.
Swallowing the last of his pride, never letting go of what was left of Aziraphale’s metaphysical form, Crowley pulls his shins beneath him, gently resting the angel’s head above his knees, his back and shoulders flush with his thighs. He bows in supplication, his hands folded over Aziraphale’s forehead, a reminder of why he was about to do this.
(Genuflection, they called it. Adoration, respect. Crowley feels none of these emotions, only a sickness balled in his lower abdomen. He somehow manages not vomit as he submits himself to the archangel.)
“Please. Save him.”
Gabriel grins, wide and feral.
legobiwan does whumptober
#erg#yeah this happened#whumptober#whumptober 8#trying to catch up guys#i'm actually having a really busy week at work and i have some DEADLINES for music shit coming up#crowley#aziraphale#gabriel#good omens#good omens spam#writing#gaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
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Wasteland, Baby! Part 7: When We Dance Angels will Run and Hide Their Wings
Notes: One more chapter after this one, y’all! Thank you all for reading and for the positive feedback!
Tags: @ladynuwanda @tribble-from-wonderland
Part 7: When We Dance Angels Will Run and Hide Their Wings
She was considered a modern-day Joan of Arc. Her visions were incredible. Church goers used to ask her to pray with them or bless them. It was like she was God’s chosen heroine, brought to Earth to save a small-town, or whatever. She was pure and sweet, patient with those who begged her for healing. But like most women who possess a gift or are a little different, she was targeted and shunned. Her own father, a priest, had her committed to Briarcliff for hallucinations after her influence exceeded his own. She was called a whore, a liar, and a witch. Even Briarcliff with its dark secrets and evil presence could not dampen her spirits. She was a bright light in a dark place, blessing the sick, praying with the scared, and befriending the outcasts. Her influence even touched a journalist who thought so highly of her that she just had to include a blurb about their friendship. Her death at the hands of Dr. Arden was a well-hidden scandal. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and tried to help someone who didn’t deserve her help.
But it was meant to be. Her purity and mission in life set her aside from other souls and she was prophesized to be an angel. She was immediately made a Herald Angel but the others knew one day she’d be the best Archangel of them all. Angelo knew it the moment he asked her one simple question:
“Do you forgive them? The ones who condemned you? The ones who killed you?”
Maureen immediately smiled and said, “I do.”
Michael refused to believe it. He pushed it aside and burrowed himself in denial’s bliss. He spent days with Maureen, trying to forget this damned party and his reluctant plans. Maureen’s mystery always tugged at the back of his mind even when he was wrapped in her arms or drunk on her kisses. It nagged him increasingly until Angelo sat before him. Angelo sat tall and strong. His smile was a bit smug but Michael couldn’t sense his fear. Angelo did feel uneasy. He knew Michael couldn’t harm him but that didn’t stop him from being paranoid about how this would go down. Would Angelo be condemned to Hell? Wait, could Archangels be destroyed? Angelo pushed that thought aside as he relished in Michael’s irritated look.
“I’m going to be blunt with you, Angelo,” Michael began. “The only reason I’m not killing you on the spot is because I love Maureen too much to hurt her only friend.”
Angelo raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“My gratitude, Mr. Langdon, is yours. I thoroughly appreciate your consider—”
“Save it. Does Maureen know?” Michael asked harshly, one hand in the air, rings on display, as his elbow rested on the table.
“Does Maureen know what?”
“That you’re an Archangel.”
Angelo chuckled. He made a mental note to sharpen his sword later. If it weren’t for that stupid Christmas party he’d plunge his blade straight into Andre as Dinah watched her son’s soul slip away to a realm even she couldn’t get to. The glee he felt was horrifying. But back to Michael’s question… he couldn’t throw Maureen under the bus. If he could save her, he would do anything to do so. He was her mentor and protector.
“Of course not. Maureen is just a blindly religious girl who thought following some priest to a fallout bunker would bring her salvation.”
“Her file said she died in the sixties and the pictures look just like her.”
Angelo scoffed to hide his surprise. He thought of an excuse quickly.
“She was hiding from an abusive ex. She used a relative’s name to hide.”
Michael nodded at this. Angelo wasn’t sure if his excuse was believable, but it bought him time, and that’s all Angelo really needed now.
“You realize you aren’t going to the Sanctuary, right?” Michael asked, smirking.
“You realize I don’t give a shit, right?” Angelo backfired. “I have my salvation. Where’s yours, Michael? Or is it Maureen?”
Michael swallowed thickly at this while Angelo smiled in pride. He’d caught Michael off guard, that’s for sure. Their conversation played over and over in Michael’s head until the day of the Christmas party. His nerves were on edge. His plan was in motion but nothing felt right or complete. He’d told Maureen not to go so he wasn’t stressed about her safety. It was the part that came after the party that had him on edge.
“Michael, what is it? Why aren’t we at the party?” Maureen asked, her sweet smile gracing him, cracking his tough exterior until he melted before her.
“Because,” he began his lie, “I’ve interviewed everyone at the Outpost… besides you.”
Maureen should’ve known better than to believe she could avoid this. Despite her reasoning, she really was caught off guard by this. He motioned for her to sit as he took his spot behind the desk, staring at her intently. He stared at her and she stared at him, her hands clasped in her lap as he looked at the folders. His dominant façade falling when he looked at the old picture again.
“I’m going to be honest, Maureen. You’re going to the Sanctuary.”
Maureen exhaled, not quite sure why she was relieved considering it wouldn’t affect her in any way. Did she want to be with him that badly?
“But, I want to know the truth.”
“The truth?” Maureen echoed, her stomach flipping.
“You shouldn’t have been able to step into the pentagram. You shouldn’t have been able to save me. Your files say you died decades ago. Just tell me what you are.”
She looked at him and realized he was pleading with her.
“You won’t love me anymore,” she blurted out, not able to meet his gaze. She sniffled back tears and wiped her eyes before he could see any sign of weakness.
“That’s not true!” he said, desperately. Michael got up and kneeled before her. “Whatever you are, I’ll love you. You are my everything. Forget my father, forget my mission. My soul is yours. Every part of me is yours. You’re my purpose now.”
His hands entangled with hers in her lap as he leaned his head against her chest, listening for a heartbeat. She cried harder now, leaning her head on his.
“I’m an angel,” she said through tears. “I was sent to stop you.”
He slowly looked up at her, his own face damp with tears. He looked years younger as he gazed at her in wonder. He ran his thumb over her cheek, catching her tears.
“And here I kneel before you, absolutely subservient to you, my angel,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss her passionately. They gripped each other as if the other may disappear without warning. Sighs, gasps, and moans were dancing in the air around them as they were completely unaware of time.
“I love you,” Maureen breathed out when she pulled away for air.
“Say it again,” Michael whispered against her lips before covering them in short and sweet kisses.
“I love you, Michael Langdon.”
Michael smiled and opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted by the door swinging open. Before them stood Ms. Mead along with Michael’s followers.
“The deed was done. Venable died along with the others. We used the serpent poison,” Ms. Mead said.
Michael’s face showed guilt as Maureen gazed at them in horror.
“You killed them all?” Maureen stammered out. Her mind jumped straight to Angelo. If they used serpent poison from Hell, he’d be harmed as well. She got up quickly and began to hyperventilate.
“Maureen, it’s okay. We’ll be okay,” Michael said, pulling her close.
“No! You said you’d forget all of this—”
“It was too late for them! It might too late for the world.”
Maureen pushed him away and looked at the followers who began crowding the door. Their eyes flashed crimson and they snarled at her.
“Back off. She’s with me now!” Michael growled.
“We have specific orders to kill the angels… from your father.”
Michael’s face contorted in fear as he looked from her to the followers. He trembled slightly, but Maureen laughed. Michael looked at her in shock and she smiled smugly. In a flash Ms. Mead was struck dead by a beam of light. Michael yelled in horror but turned to see Maureen armed with a shining bow and arrow. The other followers were struck dead and she ran from the room.
“It’s not too late, it’s not too late!” she whispered to herself urgently as she ran to the main room. Walking in, she yelped as she saw three unfamiliar women standing with Dinah, Mallory, and Coco.
“I don’t believe it,” a frizzy red-haired woman said when Maureen came into view.
“You’re alive!” Mallory cried, rushing forward to hug Maureen.
“Stay back!” Maureen cried, aiming her arrow at the ladies.
“Stand down, Herald Angel,” a blonde-haired woman said. “My name is Cordelia Goode. I am the Supreme.”
Maureen lowered her bow and nodded. She’d heard of witches but she’d never met one till now. “I am Maureen Alexander. I was sent here with my mentor to stop Michael Langdon.”
“Lot of good you did, Maureen,” Dinah Stevens began. “You ended up falling in love with him!”
The other ladies cringed or scoffed, but Maureen stood her ground.
“There’s good in him. I know it. The only people we need to fear are his followers. They’re strong demons sent from Hell. I managed to kill a few of them but—”
She was cut off when she noticed a shift in the air.
“But he’s got a whole gang of them at his disposal?” the younger blonde asked.
Maureen turned to see Michael at the top of the stairs with a whole gang of demons behind him.
“Maureen, get up here right now,” Michael said quietly but with a harsh tone.
“Never!” Maureen cried. “It isn’t too late, Michael. You can help us!”
“I can’t!” he yelled, his dark façade dropping to show his fear. “They want you dead now.”
Maureen swallowed as she moved beside the witches. Dinah stepped forward with a smile. “You may not have the angel on your side, but you have a strong voodoo queen!”
Maureen exchanged worried glances with the witches, but the red-haired woman put an arm around her and rubbed her back comfortingly.
“If only that were you, sis,” a voice said with a sarcastic tone. Another woman appeared and Maureen instantly smiled. She’d heard stories of Marie Laveau but always wanted to meet her. She walked in front of the women and smiled.
“Cordelia needed the help of a voodoo queen so she asked Papa for a favor.”
“And Papa listened to her?” Dinah asked, horrified.
“I had some help from above,” Cordelia admitted, turning to wink at Maureen.
Maureen frowned at this. She knew angels and witches had some sort of alliance but neither Gabriel or Angelo mentioned this to her.
“Mom!” a man’s voice cried out. Andre rushed forward and Dinah looked at him in horror and relief
“You’re alive!” she cried, rushing towards him.
She didn’t make it to him before another voice yelled, “For Heaven!” A blade shot through Andre’s chest and his screams mingled with Dinah’s. His body fell to the ground and Angelo was revealed. Maureen choked out a gasp and ran forward to hug him.
“You’re okay!” she whispered.
“Of course, I am. I’m an Archangel. Sorry I didn’t let you know about our little deal with Cordelia, Myrtle, and Madison, but Gabriel wanted that between us.”
“Don’t apologize. You Archangels have your secrets.”
Angelo snickered at this and put a hand on her shoulder.
“And now you will, too. Maureen Alexander, for your bravery in the face of danger, your selflessness in the face of temptation, and your sacrifices, I hereby dub you an Archangel.”
A blinding light surrounded Maureen as Angelo’s hand moved over her heart. Her eyes began to glow golden and a large halo surrounded her head. The light covered Maureen and when it dimmed, she was no longer wearing her bland uniform, but a short golden dress with slits in the back to show off her large, shimmering wings. Michael gasped at this but Maureen only smiled at him.
“Michael Langdon, I’ll give you one last chance to stand down.”
#michael langdon#langdon#michael langdon fanfic#fanfic#ahs#ahs apocalypse#american horror story#ahs fanfic#american horror story fanfic#fanfiction#ahs fanfiction#michael langdon x oc#michael langdon x reader#cody fern#ahs coven#american horror story coven#cordelia goode#madison montgomery#myrtle snow#dinah stevens#marie laveau#writing
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Spirituality isn’t Science...yet. On APC’s “The Doomed”
Maynard James Keenan is by far the most insightful, acute and most penetrating writer known to the current Music Industry as we know it. Fiona Apple is an undeniable and irrefutable 2nd place. They are both at the same level: the Top. Once people reach the top they can only go sideways, which means they are indistinguishable in depth(or height - do you really want to get into it?) from one another but differ in scope, occupying each their own self-established position. Fiona Apple knows how to dissect and scrutinize (romantic) relationships and emotional dynamics - which we all can agree on; Love, Passion and convenience can be very blurry.
Maynard, on the other hand, is in every aspect a very Spiritual person and probes the Human condition as a whole: historically, religiously and knows his way around psychology(he has a thing for Jung > Forty-Six & 2 and the Shadows). His early work with TOOL dealt directly with issues ranging from the Jewish Kabbalah, Gematria(but also Applied Math; he incorporated the Fibonacci sequence in their 3rd album among other scientific Easter Eggs), Scientology, Buddhism and last but foremost his hatred of Christendom. The track called "Schism" was only the beginning of an ongoing process of bashing Christian teachings.
There is no apparent register of any education that goes beyond high school; Maynard and Fiona- wise. Maynard had a very religious education from his mother and later enlisted in the U.S. Army and Fiona had an in-depth musical upbringing and was raped at age 12.
Maynard is adept at hiding -so called- 'easter eggs' in just about anything he creates. Master of Metaphor and analogy. Layers upon layers of concealed messages. His first hit song "Sober" deals with obvious addiction. A recurring theme as the evident "Thirteenth Step". "Prison Sex" about rape and sexual abuse. His profound concern with the Human Condition is evident. His criticism of North American culture(or lack thereof) is pure hatred expressed in "Aenima".
These are his peripheral themes. Maynard has extensive knowledge of Religion. Those who do not, are lost in interpretation.
Maynard is intriguing and appealing but I deem him to be dangerous as he is clever.
What I'm about to describe is one of the most cunning and disrespectful insults to Christian Faith I'm aware of. He has a musical project called Puscifer. They have a song called "rev 22:20".
It refers to the book of Revelation chapter 22 verse 20 and its about the 2nd coming of Christ where he warns us "I am coming quickly". So Maynard sings that Jesus is "coming".
Maynard believes in God, Satan and that the world is about to end. He believes it and he knows it.
He has extensive Bible knowledge. To know the Bible is to understand the condition the world is in.
The thing is: Maynard accuses God of letting all of Humanity suffer and that he has no right to allow so much evil and sickness and misery. His mother Judith had a severe stroke when he was 11 years of age. She was very active in a Baptist church.
The Biblical Truth thus defacto, is that a very powerful spiritual being(there are common 2-winged angels, 6-winged Seraphs and 4-winged Cherubs and one Archangel called Michael {notice how the angel Gabriel and a lot of Israeli names end with the suffix -el "IsraEL"} and spiritual beings who rebelled against God such as the demon who called himself Legion, have names that usually end with the suffix -on {DaemOn})
was so powerful in rank that he reasoned "We are beings of Light and Energy, but Humans are Matter" (God describes spiritual beings made of Light and Energy. We now suspect that Spirits are Boson particle-based creatures as Boson particles are force-carriers like radioactivity, gamma, radio and Xrays and Fermion particles like Protons and Neutrons have mass and make up Matter) this means all Humans should bow down to all Spiritual beings. Throwing science against religion is beginning to feel pretty dumb, isn't it?
This powerful spirit known as Satan was claiming the right to be worshipped due to his high status and many other spirits followed this alluring proposition.
God had already set up rules for the newly-created Homo Sapiens Sapiens. And there was only one rule! If you raise children, or train puppies or whatever, you establish some rules. It wasn't in YHWH's plans for his children to rebel. He created all beings capable of deciding, thinking, feeling, loving, etc. So the rebel known as Satan defied God, convinced other spirits and AFTER that he thought of a plan to make the first Humans rebel as well. If you compare your knowledge of pre-history you will notice that the transition from Hunter-gatherers to beings capable of Agriculture overlaps with the 6.000 years when the first Homo Sapiens Sapiens called Adam is mentioned in Genesis and fits historic accounts perfectly.
If the president or king of a given country would kill all those who had a different view or ideology, what would he become? A dictator.
YHWH decided that He would provide for enough time for the opposing party to prove its point. After that elapsed time, you either recognize your Creator, or, you don't.
So, all spiritual beings that decided they should be worshipped, did EXACTLY that. They came to our domain and each went and did what they wanted: to be worshipped. The more powerful beings claimed kingdoms such as Babylon and Assyria and became the Annunaki, while lower status gods settled to rule over small tribes. It went like this: 'Worship me or your harvest this year will be destroyed and you will suffer famine".
And now we are all in this mess together until YHWH decides to bring the Armageddon. The world is getting worse with each generation and now you know why.
60% of Maynard's lyrics is his way of blaming God for all our suffering. For allowing this for what seems to be such a long period of time. Do you feel that days, weeks and time, in general, is passing by faster and faster? If you do, it's because YHWH said he would shorten the period of time when suffering was at it's boiling point. It says so in Matthew 24:21
"for then there will be great tribulation such as has not occurred since the world’s beginning until now, no, nor will occur again. In fact, unless those days were cut short, no flesh would be saved; but on account of the chosen ones those days will be cut short."
This song does not circle around; Maynard goes straight to the point. He is asking God, why do good people have to suffer for things that are not their fault?
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words
Darkness - I chose darkness as one of my words from the list. I chose this word because it has many different meanings. It can mean darkness as in literal darkness but it also can mean evil and dark power .Which i think is really interesting. It can be thought of in so many different ways and can be interpreted. I also think of darkness as a psychological aspect in people's mind, how they feel, sadness etc.
Illuminate - I also chose the word illuminate from the list as I was thinking about how it is a contrast to darkness and how it can represent goodness, knowledge, heaven etc. It also has a religious meaning. I really like that there are lots of different things to explore around this word and I also like how darkness and illuminate work so well together.
Mortal- I chose this word from the list because i think that it links in with the two words above, mortal means being able to die. There are lots of things to explore around the word mortal. I think that it is interesting as so much artwork can be made around the idea of death.
Element- I chose this word from the list because it can mean lots of things, it can mean scientific elements, the elements fire, water, earth, air. This can also have a spiritual, mystical meaning to it and there are lots of stories, myths and legends about them.
Decagon- I chose this word from the list. I find it very interesting. I thought that I could include this shape within my artwork whether that is just hidden in the background. The decagon is a 10 sided shape with 10 straight sides and angles.
Symmetrical- I chose this word from the list because symmetry is everywhere, we see it everyday and most of the time we don't even realise it which i think is really fascinating. We see it in cities, in our homes and it's even in nature.
Transformation- I chose this word from the list because I find it interesting. The word transformation means a change in form, personality, appearance. An example of transformation in animals is caterpillars turning into butterflies. I like this idea that it can become something else.
Oracle- I chose this word from the list to investigate more on it. I'm not really sure what it means and what it's all about. I find the word to seem very interesting, magical. Mysterious and therefore makes me want to find out more. I believe that it has something to do with religion and it is some sort of priest who acts as a medium and his advice is from the gods.
Freedom- I chose this word from the list because it covers so many things. It can mean being able to speak freely, being free from abusive people, being your own person and not feeling pressured to be something that you’re not.
Philosophy- i chose this word from the list because I am not sure what it means. “ The study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline. A theory or attitude that acts as a guiding principle for behaviour.” I am still unsure of what this means.
Galaxy- I chose this word from the list because i think that it is interesting. I think that galaxies are really interesting because they are so big, they have stars and they are so pretty.
Archangel- I chose this word from the list because i thought that it would go well with some of the other words on the list like darkness, mortal and illuminate. An archangel is an angel with greater importance than other angels.
Realm- i chose this word from the list because it sounds mysterious and mystical. When i think of the word realm i think of magical kingdoms and made up stories.
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Do You Feel It?
A/N: I absolutely LOVE the “seeing wings = soulmates!” troupe. However, the fics I’ve come across for Gabriel always seem to have him getting super excited super quickly. I feel like it would be a more emotional moment that takes a moment to adjust to. I wanted to see him vulnerable and flustered. Here’s my take on the idea of wings and soulmates.
Pairing: Gabriel/Reader
Warnings: fluffy fluff
Synopsis: “Angles have this…thing. About angels. And angel wings.”
______________________________________
Gabriel. The name was familiar, obviously. Besides perhaps Lucifer, he was the most well known Angel, even if I hadn’t been raised Christian. I’d learned about the Archangel Gabriel in the same breath I’d learned about Jesus, seeing how he announced Jesus’s existence to the Virgin Mary. His name was spoken in a reverence by every religious figure I’d met growing up, he was a biblical fixture in my life. Which is why I was left a bit short for words when Sam and Dean announced his impending arrival with undisguised disdain.
“Gabriel. THE Gabriel. Is coming here? To help us with a hunt?”
Sam gave a disgruntled sigh, “yeah. Hopefully he won’t be here long and we won’t have to deal with him too much.”
I knew the stories about the boys’ run-ins with the angel. As much of a show as they put on, they didn’t seem to hate him as much as they hated some of the other angels. There was a deep-seated distrust and vague annoyance, but their faces didn’t darken at his name like it did with others, which I took to be a good sign.
Honestly, I loved the stories about Gabriel. While misguided, he seemed to have a good heart and sense of humor. I mean, come on, trapped in TV? It’s the single-greatest prank I’d ever heard of. The Mystery Spot mess was perhaps a little overboard, but the point he was tying to make to Sam was with good intention. Surely he’d redeemed himself, at least somewhat, in their eyes when he helped them against Lucifer. It had broken my heart to think he’d almost died, even though I’d never met him. It was several years later that the boys found me hunting a rugaroo solo and had taken me in. I’d been with them for about a year now, so it surprised me that I hadn’t met Gabriel. I was quite looking forward to it, much to the apparent annoyance on the Winchesters’ faces. If they’d expected me to be sulky about this interesting turn of events and expansion into my hunting life, they were sorely disappointed.
“(Y/n) really, he’s not that big of a deal, and if you act like he is, it’s going to go straight to his head and make him even more of an annoying jerk than he already is.”
Dean piped up, “Not to mention he did technically kill me, like, a lot. No matter what funny façade he presents, you can’t afford to forget how dangerous he can be. In fact…maybe it’s best if you aren’t here when he comes. The less he knows about you, the better, if you ask me.”
“Are you kidding me, Dean?” I turned to Sam, who had an expression that was starting to mirror Dean’s. “Sam, you’ve got to be kidding me! I am a grown woman, the two of you are not my keepers!” They may have taken the place of surrogate brothers in my life, but they most certainly did not have any authority over me. “If I want to meet the infamous Archangel Gabriel, I will, and you cannot stop me. Dean, no-” Dean had opened his mouth, about to argue. “I was hunting for YEARS before I met the two of you. I’ve met every monster imaginable and my religion is one of the only things I’ve held on to from my pre-hunting life. I’ve been around Cas a ton and hell, I’ve literally met Mr. Call Me Chuck himself! You say Gabriel has information that could help us, by Chuck, I’m going to be there to meet him with you and there’s nothing you can do about it!” I finished, a little childishly, just short of stomping my foot and sticking out my tongue.
“This one’s firey, I like her. Where’d you find her?”
Startled, the three of us whipped around. Standing in the middle of the library behind us was a (rather attractive) man. He was much shorter than the boys, but a couple inches taller than me. He had golden blonde hair and caramel-colored eyes that seemed to constantly sparkle like he was mid-laugh. His face was upturned in an amused smirk. He noticed me watching him and gave me a wink. “Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord, but I believe you’ve figured that out.” He turned to the boys, “No holy fire? No pre-drawn angel banishing sigils? Boys, I don’t know whether to be disappointed in your lack of preparedness or impressed with your increasing capacity for trusting people. What can I do you for?”
The boys begrudgingly began explaining to Gabriel the details of the case. We suspected the witch we’d been tracking had somehow gotten hold of a Hand of God. With Gabriel’s attention fixed on the boys (or, mostly fixed. Every so often he would glance at me, almost like he was sizing me up. It was both intriguing and intimidating) I took a moment to examine the most incredible feature of my new acquaintance: the six massive golden wings protruding from his shoulder blades. They seemed to fill the entire room. They looked like they were spun with pure gold. Not only did they reflect light, they seemed to radiate light and warmth. There was an edge of one of the wings near me. I resisted the urge to reach out and stroke it. I wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked, but I didn’t want to overstep any weird angel boundaries. I couldn’t help but be a little confused. I’d been around Cas a hundred times. I’d met Hannah and Balthazar. Why had they kept their wings hidden? Gabriel seemed to be proud of his, showing them off like he was. Every so often he would give them a gentle shake, as if he was adjusting them, causing the light to ripple down his feathers. The effect was mesmerizing. If Cas’ wings were half as beautiful, surely he’d want to show them off, too.
“–(y/n)? (Y/n), you there?” I shook my head a little and turned to the three pairs of eyes watching me, waiting for a response. I wasn’t sure whether or not mentioning an angel’s wings was acceptable or appropriate, so I decided to keep my thoughts on their beauty to myself.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a minute there. What were you saying?”
Dean replied, “we were saying that we need hard proof before we go charging in, just in case this is the real deal. You ready to tank this bitch tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I replied. “The three of us? Or…all of us?” I tried to ask innocently, glancing at Gabriel. With all my heart I wanted Gabriel to be there, too. However, I had only just met the man. I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. Why I so desperately wanted him to stay I didn’t know and I didn’t want to be…weird. Gabriel was watching me, dear Chuck I hoped he wasn’t reading my mind.
“You, me, and Dean tomorrow,” came Sam’s reply. “We need to cover our bases and find out everything we can about what we’re dealing with tonight. If this truly is a Hand of God, we need to be prepared.”
“I’ll be on standby,” Gabriel added. “Just a quick prayer and I’m there. Now, who’s hungry?”
Gabriel ended up spending the afternoon at the bunker. After he popped in six pizzas (two topped with chocolate sauce and candy. It looked awful but according to him “candy goes good with everything”) Gabriel half-helped the boys research and half-spent his time talking to me. I tried to help research with the boys, but I couldn’t help myself talking to Gabriel. There was this strange pull I was feeling toward the angel. Perhaps it’s because he’s an archangel. Against my normal thorough hunter’s training, my head was only halfway in the researching while he sat across from me talking about his favorite biblical misconceptions and telling me stories about the boys from before I’d met them.
“Here’s a thought,” I said two hours later after closing the book I’d been attempting to read from. “Why don’t we simply…ask Chuck?”
“Well, we don’t exactly have him on speed-dial,” replied Sam.
“Besides,” added Dean, “He split after the whole Amara thing, remember? ‘The world has you’ and all that bullshit. I doubt he’d answer even if we could call him.” I nodded my head, conceding to the reasonable argument. I grabbed another book and pulled it toward me. I could feel eyes on me. I looked up and my eyes met Gabriel’s. He was watching me with an intensity that almost made me uncomfortable. Instead of opening the book, I stood up, breaking eye contact.
“I need some fresh air. I’m going for a walk.”
The boys didn’t look up from the books they were engrossed in. Dean grunted and Sam gave a vague wave of acknowledgment. Determinedly not looking at the angel, I grabbed my jacket and walked across the room and up the stairs to the door. Making sure I had my key, I stepped out into the cool evening air.
I took a deep breath and began walking. I barely paid attention to where I was headed, vaguely west toward the sunset. I had walked a radius around the bunker of a few miles in every direction during the year I’d spent here and my feet took me to one of my favorite spots: a small clearing in a grove of trees on a hillside, perfect for watching the sunset. I sat down and surveyed my surroundings. The air was definitely helping me clear my head. What was wrong with me? It was like Gabriel was clogging my senses, making my head fuzzy and warm. It was a strangely comfortable suffocation, one that was equal parts invited and confusing as hell. I had literally only met him this afternoon! I had never developed feelings for anyone this quickly, especially feelings this strong! It didn’t make any sense!
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
I stood up quickly, turning to the voice behind me. I relaxed immediately once I saw Gabriel. Which was also wrong! I was a hunter! What was I doing relaxing at the sight of a potentially dangerous creature that I barely knew? Gabriel seemed to read the mix of emotions on my face.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I…don’t think I even could. I have this…weird pull toward you. Am I crazy? Do you feel it?”
It was almost unnerving seeing him so vulnerable, asking for reassurance. The stories I’d read and learned about for as long as I could remember were of this mythical and intimidating figure of Heaven. The stories the boys had told me were of this powerful and annoyingly pretentious asshole. The man before me was…a man.
He reached his hand up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable with my silence. His wings twitched, causing the light from the setting sun to dance with the golden luminescence of his feathers. The movement caught my eye, which he noticed. His hand froze on his neck and his eyes widened. I met his eyes and his eyebrows cinched, mouth slightly agape. He shook one of his wings purposefully. I glanced toward the movement and back to his face, confusion I’m sure was evident on mine. His hand dropped from his neck and he released a long breath he had been holding. He took a step backward as if in shock and asked in a quiet voice, “…you can see them, can’t you?”
Slowly, I nodded. “Gabriel…why can I see your wings, but not Castiel’s? Hannah’s? Balthazar’s? Do they keep theirs hidden?”
Gabriel’s focus on me was intense as he seemed to gather himself. He cleared his throat and took a couple steps toward me. His hands looked like they were attempting to reach out and take my arms, but he was holding himself back. “Um…no. Not technically. There’s this…thing. About angels. And angel wings. Even we can’t see each other’s wings.”
This surprised me, but it only deepened my confusion. Angels couldn’t see each other’s wings? So, why could I?
“I guess that’s not entirely true,” he amended. “In certain…circumstances, we can. It’s simply one of those things. Showing your wings is kinda like showing your privates. It’s an intimate thing. Only reserved for special…partners…” he trailed off. I stepped toward him. We were inches apart. The fuzziness in my head was starting to return, along with a strange clarity.
“Partners?” I pressed.
“Well, more like…mates. Like…soul mates. It sounds cheesy, but only an angel’s soul mate is able to see an angel’s wings. You can’t see Castiel’s because he’s not your soulmate.”
“But I can see yours. So that must mean…”
“Yeah.” He closed the distance between us, allowing his hands to wrap around my back and hold me closer to him for a fiercely passionate kiss. I returned it with fervor. His hands trailed up my arms to cradle my face. My hands found their way to his hips and our bodies pressed against one another. Every cell in my body was on fire. Every ounce of my being was screaming how perfect this felt, how natural and overwhelmingly right. I wanted to kiss him for the rest of my life.
I started to giggle while we kissed. He broke away and rested his forehead against mine. “What, in the name of my father, could be so funny at a moment like this?” He teased.
I grinned at him. “I’m standing on a hill in a field kissing THE literal archangel Gabriel whom happens to somehow be my soulmate. If my mother could see me now…” he chuckled and kissed my nose. His wings, unbeknownst to me, had wrapped around us, forming a sort of cocoon around us both. I started to reach my hand toward the feathers close to me, but stopped. I glanced at Gabriel, who gave an almost imperceptible nod of permission. I continued my reach and stroked the feathers. They felt like clouds woven into a fabric. Their softness was indescribable and the warmth was comforting to the touch. Gabriel let out a hissing gasp the moment I made contact. I pulled my hand away and looked to him immediately, terrified that I had somehow managed to hurt him. He noticed my distress and kissed my forehead.
“It’s okay. I’ve just…never felt anyone touch my wings before. It’s like if you suddenly had nerve endings in your hair. It’s startling, but extremely pleasant.”
Just then, my cellphone began to buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
“The boys seem to be getting worried…how long have we been out here?” I couldn’t see the sunset behind Gabe’s wings. When he pulled them back, I learned that not only had the sun gone down long ago, but the heat radiating from his wings had effectively blocked off the chill of the night. I was immediately onslaught by cold air and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering at the temperature difference. Gabriel noticed and held me in his arms.
“Hold on tight, sugar,” he whispered in my ear before snapping us into the bunker’s living room. Dean and Sam, who had been sitting on the couch and in an armchair respectively, both jumped up as we materialized in front of them, concern evident in their faces. Concern that quickly turned into confusion and apprehension as they took in the protective and possessive way Gabriel was standing with his arms around me, and the comfortable way I was leaning my back against his front. Dean’s eyebrow slowly raised as he caught my eye.
Grinning sheepishly, I looked at the two of them and said, “boys…you may want to sit down. I believe you both need a break from research and there’s some…things….that need to be talked about.”
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#wingfic#soulmate au#Gabriel x reader#Gabriel fic#reader can see Gabriel's wings#waywarddaughterwrites
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Why did you choose gabe? (Munday)
//So when I was a small child, I attended a private Lutheran elementary school (I’m Presbyterian, but yanno, close enough, and it was an academically great school and my mom scraped together barely enough money for tuition). There were daily religion classes in Christian ideology. I was always, invariably, drawn to the figure of the Archangel Gabriel, and to the amazing task he was assigned, to spread good news to humans. To make us rejoice at news that transcended all earthly sorrows and setbacks. In the sixth grade, I was chosen to play him in the school play. I was the only kid who could memorize and convincingly emotionally recite the entirety of the Annunciation scene and the Announcement to the Shepherds, from the traditional Christian Nativity narrative. I found it exhilarating to play the person who communicated the Good News. Maybe it was especially important to me because at the time I had just been diagnosed with Type One Diabetes, and my parents had just been divorced, so I needed some good news, even if it wasn’t my own to tell.
Fast forward to adulthood and I’ve always had that affectionate connection to this particular angel. But I’ve also always been fascinated by religious narratives that aren’t from an “Abrahamic” religious source. Norse mythology always drew me because I am utterly obsessed with the archetype of the Trickster. So guess who I’ve also adored from childhood? You guessed it: Loki. Two close friends, @jiinsy and @sussigkeits, urged me to watch Supernatural about 3 years ago specifically because they knew I loved A) narratives about brothers and B) trickster characters like Gabriel. So I binge watched it and actually wasn’t all that hooked until guess who showed up in Season Two’s episode Tall Tales. I asked my friends if “The Trickster” was coming back. They were delighted because they knew ALL ALONG I would get hooked on Gabe, and they told me yes, several times. So I kept watching. I watched straight through Season Nine just to see Gabe’s measly five episodes. I also picked up Castiel as a favorite and muse along the way.
Now I’m attached to Gabriel for so many reasons beyond the love of the Trickster archetype:
–He’s a wonderful study of birth order psychology: both a baby sibling and an older sibling, depending on the point in his timeline. The youngest Archangel, but one of the oldest of the whole of the Host. He was created to impart joy, that’s his purpose, so he copes with stress by deflecting tension and clowning around to elicit laughter from loved ones. It’s a desperate bid for peace and harmony which in the end he loses, which makes him surprisingly tragic as a character, and very intriguing. He feels responsibility for the balance in his family, unable to choose one sibling over another, because he loves them all equally, and for that he’s so often roundly condemned as a “coward” who “can’t pick a side.” It’s so unjust to call him these things.–He’s a mascot for LEAVING A TOXIC FAMILY. He’s proof that you can break ties with blood, that it’s NOT a crime or a sin to do so, that “family don’t end in blood.” He created a whole new family on earth with pagans, disguised as one among their numbers, and dared to find happiness and peace of mind outside the confines of what he was born into. This is important for so many young people to see. –He is honest to God so good and loving, and people miss it because of the FACADE he’s crafted of a Trickster and charlatan. These are coping mechanisms. I want to disinter for the fandom Gabriel’s true depth of emotion, his true depth of character. He is so wounded. He misses his father, he misses his siblings, he misses so much, but he has the STRENGTH and the COURAGE to continue forward with some semblance of optimism. –His lore beyond the best known Christian narratives is fascinating. He is a TEACHER! Like me! I BECAME A TEACHER as an adult, and still, the Archangel Gabriel mirrors me. I love him so much, not just as a Supernatural muse but as a real entity that’s part of my religious beliefs. In Judaism, he taught language to humans! He took beatings from other angels to defend us! He punished civilizations that were cruel to the disempowered! He’s a social justice warrior! No joke! A teacher and a social justice warrior! In Islam he brought prophecies to Mohammad! This angel REALLY LOVES US. How could I not love HIM?
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