#Agony CR

[ludinusdaleth]

"You don't think you have hooks in you? I know their names."

-Critical Role Campaign 3, Episode 99, "Downfall Part One"

[kocoonkay]

Quick wip

[rhowena]

My one hope for a Ludinus Clone battle is that Vax gets to sneak attack him in the back of the neck for a million points of damage.

[yashley]

asmodeus’ first experience being pain and sarenrae’s first experience being wanting to help someone

[throughtosunrise]

Oh good it's a Brennan-run EXU campaign and they want to collect MORE children?

[eclectic-maker]

Super excited for the Downfall episodes!

I'm curious, though - did it sound to anyone else like Brennan was describing wherever the gods originally came from in his monologue at the end?

Like, seeing the downfall of Aeor makes a ton of sense and would be awesome. But we've heard a few times that the gods came to Exandria, they didn't originate here. And Predathos, a predator of the gods, implies that there used to be a larger power structure than currently exists. But there's still a LOT of unanswered questions here.

So... is it possible we see the downfall that led to what we know as the gods coming to Exandria? Or at least that the secret of this will be a central theme of what led to Aeor's downfall?

No clue. Can't wait either way.

Is it Thursday yet?

[hummingbird-hooligan]

finally watching last week's episode... fearne critical role you are everything to me... doing the slow groundwork for a threesome?? right before the council at the end of the world???? iconic. no words. me fucking too, bitch

[lunarrolls]

the duality of man is that i will wait in AGONY for bells hells to return for two weeks but i am also easily distracted and placated by the hopeful return of the wildmother’s special little firbolg and the highly probable death of sean finnerty

[antlereed]

"little lies are okay."

"i'll see you in two days."

Trist looks down, looks away.

"i'll see you in two days" (little lies are okay)

[dent-de-leon]

1 oneshot graced by Taliesin playing Kingsley Tealeaf is simply not enough, I need to see how hot and divine he looks 7 years later on his throne in Darktow, want to see him finally go on that journey, "to visit and learn," King retracing all the steps of the Mighty Nein's quest until he's finally ready to reunite with them again--

[snowspeeders]

going to have a breakdown. together again on borrowed time. i'm violently ill <3

[clandestineivory]

y'all, starting it tonight. I got it bookmarked on my laptop and it's in my tabs, waiting for me to visit it

guys should I read jambound

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 103)

The nest was full of movement. Uzi was officially a week overdue… and justifiably moody.

She was getting colder, little needlepoints of chill bubbling up from underneath silicone, and so she kept getting up to throw more blankets over her- and then she'd have to rearrange them until she was satisfied with it.

She was getting to the point where she was making a nest within a nest, curled up tight in blankets.

N and Tera were together, sitting just outside the entrance to the nest. N's nerves on frayed ends, something was going to happen tonight. Something big- something life changing.

“Papa?” But before that, there was his daughter to tend to.

N smiled down at her, there was tiredness I'm his eyes, but he was never too tired for her.

“What is that stuff?” She pointed out to the creeping growths that could now be seen from the nest, soon there would be no more safe spaces.

“It's kinda gross looking isn't it?” He hummed. she held his hand with both of hers as they looked over the landscape. She nodded, making a disgusted face.

“Thats why Mommy and I are working so hard, to get away from it.” He explained; he didn't want to tell her the exact stakes, he didn't want to scare her.

“Danger?” She asked again. Cocking her head.

“Yeah. It is. But we'll keep you safe from it. Don't worry.”

She looked back at the distant tendrils and hissed threatingly, glaring at it.

N chuckled, “Or you can keep us safe!” He tickled her sides, making her squeal with laughter and kick her feet.

It was only after she got breathless when he stopped, laughing lightly along with her light giggles.

“Wanna help…” She said after a moment, crawling back into her dad's lap and wrapping herself in his coat. Looking up at him.

“You can help by being the most adorable kid in the world.” N booped her visor. And she laughed, blinking sleepily.

“I think it's naptime…”

Before either drone had a chance to make good on their naptime promise. Uzi yelped from inside the nest, followed by a whimper of pain.

N's core dropped into his stomach.

Tera popped awake as well, clambering to sit up. “Mama!’

N stuck his head into the nest, where Uzi was within her mini-nest, propped up on a pillow with a blanket covering her abdomen, she had a hand on top of it.

“N!” She called, sounding alarmed and distressed. “I think-!” She's interupted by a full body shudder and a warning on her HUD. [INTERNAL DAMAGE DETECTED!]

Cr-rack!

There's the sound of splintering silicone and Uzi whined, heat flooded her entire body and every single one of her internal fans kicked on at once.

“Oh! Oh it's happening!” N felt a mixture of joy and fear wash over him as he fumbled over everything trying to reach her, Tera crawled up onto his shoulder and held onto his hair for support.

Uzi blinked before tears came into her eyelights, pain and happiness mixing together into a powerful cocktail of emotion she couldn't contain.

Happiness was quickly ursurped by agony- another wave of pain and the sound of more silicone cracking like an egg.

“F-fuck!” She cursed, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. “Oh gobo-JeSUS!” She yelped and reached for his hand which nearly crushes his own with how hard she gripped

He winced before smiling down at his girlfriend. “It's alright, you got this.”

He sat Tera down so he could take a peek underneath the sheet covering Uzi's bottom half, he's underneath for half a second before he came back out, gulping and eyelights hollow.

“oh…”

Uzi does not like his expression in the slightest, she gripped the bedding underneath her. “What?! What does that mean?!”

“You're uh…” His voice faded out. “You're open…uhm.” He made a gesture with his hands, splitting them apart down the middle almost like a bear trap.

Uzi gulped, but can't say anything due to the pain clogging her throat. N just returned to his place holding her hand.

CRACK!

She couldn't hold back the scream, so she instead bit into a pillow to muffle it, her grip tightened around N's hand so much he could feel the metal bend and hear it groan.

He didn't say anything though, just smiled and pet her hair, cooing to try and give some comfort to her.

“Breathe. Okay? We've prepped for this haven't we?” He suggested softly, and guided his mate through a breathing technique Uzi had written off as stupid before.

“In. One, two three. Out.” He did it with her, and it worked for a moment before she's squeezing his hand again, this time though, she felt all the extra weight she'd been carrying for six and a half months drop suddenly-

“Guess who's back!” Someone came sailing into the nest without a care in the world… it's V, holding a worker arm before dropping it the second she hears Uzi's unearthly scream.

“Oh shit!”

“V you have the words shittiest timing!” Uzi grunted, burying her head in N's shoulder as her body jolts from pain.

V crept up to Uzi's other side, offering a second hand for Uzi to punish mercilessly, which she does. And V doesn’t even wince when her hand bends.

N had to leave Uzi's side to dip his head underneath the blanket again, this time he stays a little longer before reamerging.

“You're gonna hate me… but you have to push!”

Uzi just nodded, whimpering as with another wave of pain, she pushed along with it, compounding it, it's so painful she saw stars.

She needed somewhere to bury her head, but N was to busy tending to another part of her that she couldn't- until V shoves her head into her shoulder instead.

She pet the back of her head, being a rock against crashing tides.

Uzi sobbed along with each push, gripping onto V like she's the only thing keeping her alive and then-

“One more! You can do it!”

“I-I Can't! I can't!” She trembled, voice scratchy from her screaming and sound watery from tears.

“Yes you can! One more! I promise!” Her mate encouraged her, and with a yell she did, one more time.

Snap!

Something shifted and she felt the pain let up immediately, she breathed heavily into her freinds embrace, and loosened her grip. V stroked her back, Uzi didn't complain.

An ear peircing cry broke into the nest, the sound of a very, very healthy set of new lungs breathing for the first time.

“You did it! Oh god… Uzi you did it!” N exclaimed happily, barely heard over the crying. She doesn't respond, she's still trying to catch her breath.

N feels the tears in his visor as he wipes his child clean.

In his arms was a small, squishy version of a dissasembly drone, with conical arms and booted legs that matched his own, wrapped around the tiny body is a tail with a nanite canister, glowing bright white; it lacked a stinger though… which was probably very good for Uzi.

The babies head was covered in locks of silvery blonde hair, five glowing balls rested on his head, and their eyelights were white though closed and still screaming.

“Hey! Shhhh, shhhh, It's okay, it's okay…” N brought the newborn up to his chest to listen to his core, they were quite a bit larger then a pillbaby, but still smaller then Tera.

The baby slowly stopped crying, turning into sniffles as their eyelights drifted around the nest.

“Thats it…” N hummed.

Uzi slowly lifted herself out of V's shoulder, soaked in sweat and still panting softly. V didn't rush her, instead just pushed purple hair out of her face.

Uzi made a breathless but appreciative noise in response. V laughed.

“You did it… you wanna see?” Her voice was soft, caring, if Uzi didn't know better, she'd probably assume it wasn't V.

Uzi slowly turned to look at N, who was enraptured in the sight of his new son, who was balling his little fists up and wriggling absently.

They made eye contact, tears welling up in both of their eyes as her son was gently placed on her chest, he farther calmed down with the sound of her core.

“Heh… oh my god…” Uzi croaked out, brushing some silvery hair out of the little one's face.

“Jesus, he's your mini-me N.” V commented, smirking as she leans back, watching the dents in her hand heal out of the corner of her eye.

“H-he is…” Uzi smiled though the dull pain still thrumming through her.

Tera silently crawled into V's lap, having been very quiet while all this was going on. V laid a hand on her head. “It's okay. It's over.”

N and Uzi embraced tightly, careful to mind the newborn between them.

“I love you. I love you so much.” N nearly sobbed, tail wrapping around them protectively, Uzi just tilted her head up and kissed him; locking them together for at least a minute.

V rolled her eyes and covered Tera's visor… which Tera just peeked over, not like she hadn't seen her parents kissing before anyway.

“I love you too…” Uzi sighed, nuzzling up into his chin. The newborn raised a little fist up at them.

“And you… Bishop.”

“Yeah… that's your name isn't it buddy?” N cooed down, Bishop babbled back up at them.

Uzi leaned back into V and Tera, startling the female dissasembler for a moment before she simply accepted it. “Don't get too comfortable with me now…”

“Mm. You just babied me like you were my mom. Hush.” Uzi quipped back tiredly, and V laughed back.

“Heh… yeah well… you need someone looking after you.”

“Hey…” N began to protest lightly.

“She needs another girl looking after her. You don't count. You're her boyfriend.” replied, though her statement lacked any bite.

Tera clambered up into her Mom's lap to look at the addition that caused so much commotion, cocking her head as both siblings locked eyes.

“Brother!” She beamed immediately, leaning in- but not too close. “Here! Not shy!”

The three adults laughed together. Uzi safe between two killing machines, and both her kits safe and sound.

“Yeah! He's here now! His name is Bishop!” N smiled back, lifting her into his arms so she could get a better look without putting pressure on an already worn out Uzi.

“Bi-Bis-” She struggled a little with his name. So she shortened it. “B!”

He wagged his tail; giving his first smile…

Uzi found a shoulder to bury into, not caring if it was V or N, she was exhausted… and a nap sounded pretty good right about now.

She got dual purrs in response, and she quickly booted off to recover. The last thing hitting her audials being N;

“We've got the kids… get some rest…”

[brittle-doughie]

What If:

Another attempt to turn Y/N Cookie into one of their vessels by the Beast Cookies…Only for it all to go wrong.

The process was almost complete. But, something…changed in Y/N Cookie’s soul. The Beasts wanted them to destroy entire kingdoms? They’d do that…

…To Them! Using the powers that the Beasts have bestowed upon them, Y/N Cookie destroyed EVERYTHING that the Beast Cookies called home. In their attempts to corrupt Y/N Cookie…the Fallen Heroes created a Cookie that couldn’t be controlled or reasoned with…

Their creation’s name?

The Cookie of Uncontrollable Chaos…

Will the Ancient Heroes be able to reach what remains of Y/N Cookie’s innocence…or, will their friend remain a uncontrollable and destructive force forever?

Knowing CR, they will. The protagonists usually are able to prevail, but the path can have suffering and agony too along the way.

[chiefdirector]

Wounded | Angela Lopez | The Rookie

Despite it going against at least fifty rules, Angela couldn’t help herself. Sure it wasn’t illegal or anything but it just felt wrong. Grey had gone one hundred and one times about fraternising with people within the department, let alone with people within the precinct but she couldn't help herself. God, she really wished she had listened.

Of course, deep down she knew that it wasn’t her fault but that knowledge didn't stop the guilt from rising up every chance it got, haunting her like a ghost. Although she knew that wasn’t the only thing haunting her, the image of her wife, laid right in front of her so still that Angela almost thought that she was asleep, or she would have if she wasn’t drenched in her own blood.

The bullet wound embedded in Detective (Y/N) (L/N)’s side plagued Angela’s thoughts, both waking and asleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw it. Every moment of silence all she could hear was her wife’s cries of agony, begging for someone to make it stop. Every peaceful moment Lopez had was burdened by the memory that she was powerless to help (Y/N) in the moment she needed her most.

She had fundamentally failed her. 

The universe had chosen them to come together.

(Y/N) had moved to the Mid-Wilshire precinct from Hollywood when her patrol partner had passed away in the line of duty. She was up for promotion, the detectives in her department had given her the tap pretty early into her career. The move made sense, she would get a fresh start, rebuild the confidence she had lost whilst not being tied down as the officer who shouldn’t have survived.

If only she had known that title would come back and follow her with a vengeance.

Their relationship blossomed quickly after they had met. Initially they had sworn themselves to secrecy, knowing how much grief they could have been subjected to but it didn’t take long for their colleagues to learn about their relationship. Grey, after a lot of convincing (and some begging on (Y/N)’ end)  had signed them both off to work in the same station, as long as Lopez never came directly under (Y/N)’ command. Romantic relationships had a lot more protections than most others, especially in police work. 

Lopez and (L/N) tended to move in sync, knowing what the other needs without even asking. When one moves, so does the other, like magnets. The benefits of having a pair like them was exceptional, until one would fall. So Lopez and (L/N) were split up, rarely working together unless it was the last option available. The liability of having one of them injured whilst the other was near was far too high. It wasn't worth the risk.

Angela thought the rules were a load of shit. 

It was only when Angela saw (Y/N) lying there, bleeding out, did she truly realise why the rules were the way they were, why they were so strict, and why she shouldn't have been on that operation that day.

It was her ignorance that had caused Jule to turn around and move towards her, trying to protect Angela from harm, subsequently fating herself to the suffering intended for Lopez. 

—----

The hospital was cold.

The sterile white walls pressed into Angela as she sat in the waiting room, Bradford and Grey by her side as they waited for any news on (Y/N)’ condition. The hustle and bustle of doctors, nurses, and patients alike barely registered in Lopez’s mind as she sat in the far to firm chair, staring at the floor. She had counted the floor tiles in the room six times before she registered that Tim had stepped out to get the three of them coffee.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, watching the world go by. It simultaneously felt like seconds and decades. She watched as families joined in her waiting and then left again. She listened to their cries of joy and the wails of anguish. All of the chatter and noise eventually fell into a quiet hum in the back of her mind as she counted the tiles on the floor once more.

It was the gentle tap of Sargent Grey that brought her crashing back to reality again. She snapped her head up at him, before searching around the room to see another surgeon standing at the doorway, a char in hand and a solemn look adorning his face.

“Family of (Y/N) (L/N)?” The surgeon called out again. Angela shot up from her seat at an almost inhuman speed. She swallowed down her nervousness as she approached him, now was not the time to be afraid, not when she could lose anything. She could be afraid in private.

“Yes,” she croaked out, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded. Quickly, she coughed to clear her throat, “that’s me.”

“There were some complications during surgery. Ms. (L/N) had some severe internal bleeding that was not caught until later in the process and by that time it-”

The surgeon's voice droned out of Angela’s mind, becoming another noise in the background as she tried to process the words. She was no doctor but she knew that internal bleeding was never good. And with all the blood she had lost even before she had gotten to the hospital.

Every single possibility rushed through her mind as she fruitlessly tried to stabilise her breathing. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not to her. The guilt sprung forth in her mind tenfold, Angela knew it should be her in that position, not her (Y/N). Anyone but her (Y/N). 

“Ms. Lopez. Do you understand what I am saying?”

For the second time in five minutes, Angela snapped back into reality, this time she was hyper focussed on the surgeon in front of her.

“What?” she said, her voice still meek.

“Ms. (L/N) is currently in recovery in the ICU.” The surgeon looked down at the officer, seemingly annoyed by her lack of presence when he spoke the first time, “she is ot conscious and due to the numerous complications, we do not have an estimate as to when she will wake up; if she will even wake up.”

“But she’s alive?”

“Yes, you can go up and see her shortly. The nurses are just cleaning her up from the surgery.”

Angela let out a breath she didn't know that she was holding at the doctor's words. She was alive. (Y/N) had made it through the surgery and she was alive. Angela could keep hoping and praying for her recovery because there was a chance that she could recover. There was a chance that she would wake up, that she would heal, that she would go home. There was a chance that she would live.

(Y/N) survived and now she had a chance, and Anegla knew that was enough.

Masterlist

@augustvandyne

[filmtv2022]

Ineffable Agony

Pairing: Aziraphale x Platonic!Reader x Crowley

Synopsis: One quiet night, Aziraphale and Crowley's world is rocked. A fallen angel is dropped on their doorstep. Their very presence shoves the reality of their Earthly partnership back into view and calls into question the very stability of Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale and Crowley struggle not only to understand the depth of the situation they've found themselves in but also to save the reader.

Warning: bleeding/blood loss + death.

A/N: I tried my best to use gender-neutral language in this one. The reader does have hair, but other than that, I think their physicality is fairly nondescript. As always, I apologize for any mistakes. It's getting late & I'm super tired.

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

Warm light spilled out of the wide windows of A.Z. Fell and Co: Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Inside, surrounded by unruly shelves and half-empty bottles of red wine sat the oddest and most right pair in celestial history. Aziraphale had long since set aside his glass of wine, forgoing further intoxication for a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Crowley on the other hand had continued to sip away, which glass or bottle he was on remained a bit unclear.

Feeling his head turning fuzzy, the demon slowed his pace of consumption, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and inebriation. In the days post averting the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves settling into this new life. One free from apparent oversight from both Heaven and Hell. The two indulged in human luxury wherever and whenever they liked, unencumbered by the pull from their respective head offices. For the first time in millennia, they felt truly free to live as they liked, and what a life it was.  

“How does breakfast at the Ritz sound, Angel? I think I could do with a nice morning out, feeding the ducks, fancy tea… or perhaps we'll pop over to France for some crepes?” 

“That sounds lovely. ” Smiling sweetly at Crowley, he swallowed the last bit of his drink before standing to return the dirty cup to the sink in the back. 

A sudden burst of white light flashed like the sun, flooding the space before being replaced by the wretched orange and red of hell fire, stopping him in his tracks. Inky darkness replaced the flare as fast as it happened. Snapping his attention to the entrance, Aziraphale stood in observation waiting in anticipation for something more to happen. Having seen, the display from his seat, Crowley stood and joined the Angel.

“What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know. There was a…”

A sudden thump of something heavy smacking into the door forced him to stop speaking. To the human senses, nothing seemed out of place, the world continued to move just as it always had, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The air began to thrum with energy, the waves pouring into the store erratically, their intensity growing stronger the longer it went on. Crowley hissed, a guttural reaction to the feel of pain that roared through them both. Fighting to stay upright, Aziraphle gripped the demon’s shoulders as he doubled over in pain.

“Are you all right?” Pushing aside the ache that filled his own head, Aziraphale struggled to focus on the present, caught between concern for Crowley and whatever… or whoever was causing this to happen. 

“I’m fine, just dandy, but I’d be better if my insides weren’t twisting around knots.” 

“Yes, of course.”

Closing his eyes, the angel searched for a miracle, one strong enough to put an end to the horrific suffering that flowed freely into the room. Celestial magic hummed over his skin but died as he worked to make it so. Trying again, and failing, dread bubbled hot in in Zira’s chest. 

“It’s not working!”

“Obviously!” 

Groaning, Crowley clutched at his stomach as Aziraphale whimpered next to him. The angel’s head was full to the bursting point as if his mind was being ripped apart at the seams.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” 

Forcing himself to stand to his full height, Crowley removed himself from the angel’s hold, “Fine, I’ll finish this myself.” 

He too searched for a miracle. The darkness of his own magic flooded over his senses as he worked, but nothing happened. The lick of heat that always accompanied his miracles ran cold, leaving a chill over his skin in its absence. Aziraphale’s knees buckled as the pressure in his skull intensified. Dropping to the ground with him, Crowley held onto his angel.

Then as quickly as it started, the vibrations ceased to exist. Panting hard, the pair stood up on shaky legs. Crowley’s hand stayed firm on Aizraphale’s back, helping the Angel along as well as grounding himself. Stumbling toward the door, Zirh’s fingers trembled as he reached for the handle. Glancing at Crowley, he waited for some sign of reassurance, which was freely given in the form of a nearly imperceptible nod. Opening the door, their eyes immediately fell on the torn figure slumped face down on the ground before them. Slashes cut through their jacket and pants, the flesh below ripped to shreds and bleeding heavily. Ichor coated the surface of the stoop, pooling in a wide swath before spilling down the step. Kneeling down to see things more clearly, Aziraphale gently rolled over the stranger, the gore staining his hands red. 

“They’re an angel.” Laying them on their back, his fingers felt for a pulse. It was weak, barely more than a flutter, but it was there.

“Not anymore.” Crowley gritted his teeth as he spoke, the realization of what had happened hitting too close to home, “They’ve been cast down.”

“Cast down? But Heaven they’ve… they’ve taken…” 

“Taken their wings, yes.” 

“That’s not supposed to happen?” 

“And yet it did.” 

“Why?”

“Why not? It certainly makes a statement.” Reaching for their hand, Crowley slowly unfurled their fist, removing the gore-soaked paper from within. 

“A statement for who?”

“Us.” Peeling apart the folds, Crowley read the smeared words aloud, “To the attention of one A.Z. Fell & Anthony J. Crowley. Your actions have consequences that reach far behind the realms of Heaven and Hell. You’ve set something in motion that must be stopped.” 

Locking eyes with the demon, Zira struggles to find words, “What does this mean?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” 

Scooping the fallen angel into his arms, Crowley deftly made his way toward the second floor of the bookshop. Finding the first door on the right partially open, he pushed it open with his foot. A couple of strong strides had him standing next to the bed, scanning over their face for any sign of familiarity. Finding nothing, he placed them down on the mattress on their side before turning his attention to the wounds. Trying yet again to use his magic, Crowley reached out in search of a way to staunch the flow. The stream slowed slightly, but not nearly enough.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Waiting for an answer, he pushed his palms into the worst of the gashes, but when no response came, he shouted for assistance, “Angel, a little help here!”

“Oh, yes!” knocked back into reality, Aziraphale made his way to the bed, his stained hands once again reaching for the being before him. Using what little magic he could muster, he managed to lessen the bleeding to a trickle.

Feeling it still running between his fingers, Crowley’s head dropped between his shoulders, a deep exhale releasing as he tried to let go of the panic coursing through his system. It was an unnatural state for the demon, one that he’d only felt a few other times in his 6,000 years of life. He’d done a keen job of compartmentalizing the memory of his own fall, relegating it to the deepest depths of his mind. This, however, hit too close to home. While he’d been lucky enough to keep his wings, the transition from Heavinly Being to a Demon of Hell was horrific at best. The darkness, the pain… the loneliness. It was all too much to think about even now, all these years later. 

Letting go of his hold on their wounds, Crowley gingerly placed them on their back, hoping the pressure who stop the rest of the bleeding. Sinking down beside the bed, he rested his head back on the mattress and closed his eyes tightly.

“What could they possibly have done to deserve this?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes never leaving their face. Brushing his fingers over their hair, he pushed the blood-coated strands out of the way.

“We better hope they wake up so we can find out.” Standing up, Crowley stalked out of the room, pounding down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Turning on the water, he let it pour from the faucet until steam rolled from the stream. Hot enough to scald, he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. The red of the gore was replaced by the angry color of his skin beneath as he fought to rid himself of the stains. Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, Aziraphale watched in concern, his brows furrowed at the sight before. Losing control of himself, Crowley snapped off the water, slamming his fists down upon the porcelain and letting loose a rage-filled growl. Pushing his way past the angel, he pounded down the stairs toward the front door.

Following in his wake, Zira called to his demon, “Where are you going?”

“To find out what in the hell is going on?” 

“But what if something happens… I-I should come with you.”

Snapping around, Crowley’s yellow eyes stopped Aziraphale in his tracks, “Stay here, take care of the angel… demon… thing. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Nodding in agreement, Aziraphale watched Crowley drive away, the Bentley tires screaming along the pavement.

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

Agonizing flashes of pain radiated from the jagged wounds as cold sweat coated your skin turning into a slick mess of drying blood and perspiration. Spasms racked your body, each one more powerful than the last. You were dying, or so you thought. But what did that really mean for angel turned demon? You were even really alive to begin with? Where would your ‘death’ leave you? Certainly not in Heaven, they’d made it quite clear you were no longer welcome amongst their kind. So that left two other options. One being an eternity in Hell, rotting away with the other demons. The other was much more frightening… nothingness, your soul relegated to the black void somewhere between the realms. Alone. Cold. Unneeded… Unwanted. Stuck in purgatory for all time. 

Time ceased to exist, and all sounds and feelings apart from the physical and mental torment fell away as you were trapped in the endless cycle of pain. Giving into it all, you allowed yourself to fall further away from the light. The beacons of Heaven were only a dim glow on the horizon. Their cool white was replaced by the furious red of the gates below. It was warm, welcoming even. It would have been so easy to let go, to surrender, and yet some small part of you keep a firm hold on the life you’d had before. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to relinquish it fully.

The gentle press of a hand against your cheek pulled a quiet whimper from you, the touch kind and comforting. A tender voice spoke in a low mumble, their words unclear, but their intentions certain. There was something familiar about it as if a long-lost friend had come to visit. 

“I’m so sorry, but this is going to hurt.” 

Undoing the buttons of your shirt, the person gingerly pulled you into their chest, your forehead resting on their shoulder as they removed your top. A strangled groan fell from your lips at their ministrations.

“I know, I know.” Smoothing over your hair, they laid you back on the bed, this time on your side so they could access your body. 

Walking around to the other side of the bed, they began the delicate work of cleaning the wounds. Rag and after rag came away crimson, and the cloths were discarded nearby on the floor. Slowly, but surely, the gashes were stitched and covered. Finished closing the wounds, they began to wash away the rest of the blood as best they could. The task was slow and tedious. 

“There, that’s better. Now. let’s get you some fresh clothes.” 

Standing from the bed, Aziraphale sought out a pair of his pajamas. Returning to your side, he slipped the jumper over your head and shoulders, taking great care to not bump your most tender spots. Moving on, he carefully peeled away your trousers, the white was splotched with darkening red. Dropping them on the pile of used rags, he then shimmied the plaid bottoms over your frame. His hands were unsure and timid as he moved. 

Once again laying flat on your back, Zira pulled a blanket over you. Taking a moment to adjust the pillows, he sank back down into the spot next to you, his hands wrapping warmly around your own. 

“Who are you?” 

The previous question was barely more than a whisper, making the utterance of a name from your lips even more surprising. With eyes closed tight, and no other signs of consciousness, a singular word tumbled out for him to hear.

“Aziraphale…” 

Zira was left speechless. What about him? Why were saying his name? 

In a measure of cosmic timing, the telephone downstairs began to ring. It’s incessant trill bounding off the walls, calling to the angel. Leaving his spot, he was forced to let go of your hands. The loss of his touch caused a pained look to contort your features.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you worry.” 

Silence fell over the room, as Aziraphale quietly closed the door behind himself, leaving you alone. It was as if in his absence the darkness began to creep back in, closing the distance between you and the void. Black hands reached for you, threatening to drag you away from the world of the living. Fighting against their searing grip, your body twitched and thrashed on the bed. Soon the motions were followed by gasping screams, the sounds shrill and bloodcurdling flew down the stairs toward Aziraphale. The pounding of footfalls was masked by the blistering screeches from Hell that rang in your ears. Soft hands gripped your shoulders, calling to you through the panic.

“I’m here, I’m…” Placing his palm on the side of your head, the heat rolling off your skin nearly burned him. Knowing he needed to act quickly, he flooded your mind with celestial light. Instantly, your body began to relax and your temperature dropped.

Falling limp against the pillows, your chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Sweat had soaked through the collar of the shirt, staining it darker than the rest. Aziraphale’s fingertips ran in soft arcs down your face as he continued to murmur words of comfort. Fearful of leaving your side again, he yanked the chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed. Clasping your hand in his, he took a seat and waited. Crowley would be back soon enough, he’d promised.

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

Hours passed and eventually, sleep overtook Aziraphale. Slumping back in the chair, he managed to keep a hold of your hand. Returning to the bookshop with little to no information in hand, Crowley made his way upstairs in search of his Angel. The door to the first guest room was flung wide open, and he was greeted with the image of Zira fast asleep, the lines of worry still creased between his brows. With his promise to return in mind, Crowley softly shook the angel awake. 

“You’re back.”

“I promised, didn’t I.” 

“Of course, What did you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing seems out of place, and the lines between Hell and Earth are quiet. Whatever this is, it’s either from Heaven alone or somebody’s going to dangerous lengths to keep it hidden.” 

“Hidden? They were dropped on our front porch! How is that hidden?” 

“You’ve got a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that there's nothing on the radar.” Turning to look at the stranger on the bed, Crowley’s tone softened as he spoke again, “How are they doing?” 

“As best as can be expected… there was so much blood.” Shifting forward, Aziraphale adjusted his grip on your hand, “They spoke in their sleep while you were away. It didn’t make sense, but they spoke.”

“What did they say?”

“My name…”

“You name? As in Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, giver of the flaming sword and forestaller of the end of days” 

“That’s what I’ve said isn’t it?” Impatience touching the edge of the question.

“Yes, but how would they know your name?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea…” 

Crowley’s thoughts raced at the realization of what that could mean for Heaven. If they had fallen so far as to mutilate those they cast down then things were much worse off than he’d ever expected.

“Perhaps Heaven’s become more like Hell than they’d ever care to admit.” 

Stunned into silence, the pair sat quietly for a while, observing the rise and fall of your chest. The steady movement was just enough to ease some of the worries that festered. 

“There was one other thing they said while you were gone?”

“Yes?” 

“The phone rang while you were out, when I left to answer, they… they started to scream—terrible screeching wails, as if… as if Hell itself was coming for them. And when I returned, their skin… it was burning like fire. Between the screams, they were calling for you.”

“Me?”

Nodding yes, he continued on, “Over and over, begging… pleading for you. They know us Crowley, and yet I’m sure I’ve never seen this face before.” 

“Neither have I.” 

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Morning broke over the quaint yet busy street, and the rumble of cars and voices floated in from outside. Your eyes fluttered open, and the unchecked sunlight beaming into the room assaulted your sensitive eyes. Hissing at the daggers of light, your whole body recoiled. Slamming your lids shut again, you scrambled back to retreat from the intrusive light. The mangled flesh of your back crashed against the headboard in your attempt to flee from the light. The sudden movement sent shockwaves through your body as the stitches in your wounds tugged sharply. Hearing and feeling your stir, Aziraphale and Crowley sat bolt upright in their respective positions. Zira in the same chair as the night before, and Crowley in the vanity chair across the room. 

Catching your attempt to flee from the overwhelming sensations, Aizraphale reached for your shoulders and tried his best to push you back down into the pillows. His sure hands were commanding and gentle as they kept you from hurting yourself further. 

“You’re all right. Careful now or you’ll rip your stitches.” 

Simultaneously, Crowley was up out of his chair, his own hand coming up to grip your chin, holding your face in his direction. Your eyes flew open again as if called to look by some hell-born bond. And what he saw brought a moment of hesitation. The whites of your eyes were flooded with a sickening crimson as if every blood vessel had burst. While your pupils were blown large, covering nearly the entirety of your eyes. Shaking off the unsettling nature of your appearance, the demon deftly removed his sunglasses and placed them on your face. 

“It’s their eyes, they’re not used to the light.” Stepping back, Crowley reached out a hand to Aziraphale, pushing him away from you, “Careful, Angel, emotions can be a bit unsteady.” 

“It’s all right, Crowley. As you said, they’re in pain, why don’t you let me help.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“Nonsense!” stepping back to your side, Aziraphale’s fingertips aligned with your temples as a gentle light filled the room.

Your breathing began to slow as the ache faded both mentally and physically. Slowly, you opened your eyes, finding that the dark lenses made the world around you much more bearable to view. Weakness replaced the pain leaving you incapable of moving, your power sat dormant, but hot beneath your skin. The heady mix of emotions melded together in what was certain to become an explosive combination. 

Pushing down the flames, you spoke as if greeting old friends, “Crowley… Aziraphale… finally.” 

“How do you know our names?” Zira’s question was far from accusatory.

“Oh Aziraphale, I’ve known you for thousands of years… the same goes for you, Crowley.” 

“Who are you? Why do you know us?” Crowley on the other hand couldn’t help the accusation that threaded over his words.

Tilting your head to the side, you focused on him. The yellow of his snake-like eyes glinted in the sun, strong and fierce in demeanor. 

“It was my job, to know you, to follow your biddings here on Earth. Like a celestial watchdog, I suppose.” 

“Watchdog?” Crowley tensed at the very thought of Heaven having watched him for millennia after his fall. 

“Yes. It was my job to track your movements, particularly in the years since your delivery of the AntiChrist. Well, you and Aziraphale. There was some… hesitation regarding the pair of you, given your shared history of questionable decision-making. Need I mention your flaming sword and apple debacles?” Your voice was weak and breathy as if speaking drained you of what little energy you’d recouped.

“All right, no need to rub it in. Enough about us, you’ve yet to answer our other question, demon. Who are you?” 

“Well, I don’t know how this works exactly, but I suppose my angelic name will do for now. I’m Y/N.” 

“And why are you here… Y/N?” Aziraphale uttered your name sweetly as if to encourage you to continue. 

“It’s simple really, I’m the same as you, Crowley. I asked too many questions… I doubted the ineffable plan.” Sinking further back into the pillows, you turned your head to look at the demon. 

“You what? Why?” Aziraphaled asked in shock.

“Because… you were happy.” Shifting your body slightly so that you could gaze at him, you felt a warm hand wrap around your own, “And the more I watched you here on Earth enjoying your lives together, the humanity … it made me think. Why were we going to end it all? And after such a short time as well? I saw how you looked at the world and couldn’t imagine it ceasing to exist. But even more than that… I couldn’t bear the thought of…” 

Your voice caught in your throat as a fresh spasm racked your frame. The tightening of the muscles along the expanse of your back ripped the air from your lungs causing you to gasp and groan. Folding forward at the waist, the glasses slipped down your nose exposing your eyes to the blinding rays once again. Desperate to block it out, you pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes knocking the sunglasses onto the blanket covering your lap. Steady vibrations rolled through the space around you as your power spilled out unchecked. A blood-curdling wail tore from your lips as your skin flushed hot from the touch of Hell once more. Shocked by the sounds, Aziraphale took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of you.

Crowley had returned to your side, his strong hands holding tightly to your biceps. The heat of your skin burned and blistered his palms, and yet he remained unfazed. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to- listen to me. You’ve got to push away, you’ve got to fight against it!”

Gripping you tightly, he watched as your body spasmed beneath his touch. Blood soon tinged the light cream of the jumper you were wearing, the sudden movements having torn the stitches from your flesh. Furthermore, the heat radiating from within you singed the fabric, leaving behind blackened holes in its wake. A wet gurgle accompanied your labored breathing as if you were drowning on dry land. Coughing and choking, a blackish liquid oozed out the corners of your mouth, the scene grew more horrific as the substances ran down the exposed column of your neck. Crowley’s palms smoothed over it, wiping away the mess as best he could, but it just kept coming. Every wet hack brought more of it flooding out to replace what he’d tried to clean up. 

“Crowley! Crowley, what’s happening?” Stammering, Aziraphale was frozen to his spot.

“They’re dying, the transition is consuming them.”

“But I thought-”

“Whatever you thought about this was wrong, Angel. This is the reality.”

“But I… what we can do?” 

“There’s nothing we can do except ease their pain and hope for the best. It’s up to them now. Either they find the strength to fight against the darkness or it consumes them.” 

Trembling, Zira moved to your side and eased himself down onto the bed. Cautiously, he reached out to touch you, his hand brushing over Crowley’s as he sought out your temples. 

Turning his head to look at the demon, Aziraphale whispered one simple word, “Together.” 

Understanding what he meant, Crowley nodded his head silently. Placing the pads of their fingers along your hairline, the two worked to rid you of the pain. A calming wash of peace flooded over you, chasing out the panic and terror. Your hot skin now sat cool to the touch, and the blisters covering Crowley’s hands began to heal. Slowly, your breathing regulated and the crackling wetness ceased to hinder your lungs. Serene peace settled over your features as they untwisted from the pain. Sensing that the limit of help and available miracles for this situation had been reached, both Crowley and Aziraphale sat back. Their eyes never left you as they watched for signs that their magic had failed. Zira was the first to speak

“What do we do now?”

“We wait.” 

“For how long?”

“Not long now I think.” Crowley’s voice was thick with emotion. 

Tracking the rise and fall of your chest, the pair watched as the movement became more erratic. The time between inhales turned more inconsistent and further apart the longer time went on. Eventually, it stopped altogether, and the last vestiges of pain fell from your features leaving behind a mask of perfect peace. 

“What do we do now?” Zira asked in shock.

“We find out who the hell is responsible and we make them bleed” Looking Aziraphle in the eyes, Crowley's own brimmed with emotion, “But more importantly, we live, we live for them.