#and i'll fanfic the rest of it for myself out of SPITE

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Immigration and New Beginnings, Fuck Yeah!

CANADA SAYS YES! Yeah-yeah-yeah, I just gotta wait until they invite us in, and we hit the motherlode of points in November after being here two years.

Say hello to Zero Fisher, because of this li'l being right here -

From an out-of-universe perspective, I'm not in love with this design, but in-universe, if they wanna look like an iPhone/GLaDOS, I support them! They built this themself with replicators and resources instead of scrounging whatever they could find, and I damn near cried at this episode!

I might spell it with an X to differentiate myself, we'll see. Don't fence me in. I will DEFINITELY take the gender-neutral designation on my ID. I am growing a goddamn spine on this. I am a weird little being who must wear a suit for all my interactions, lest I cause harm to my loved ones, but I wanna pick what it looks like and what you call it. And Canada will LET me!

Oooh, how shall I style myself for a new ID photo? I got time, I'll work on it... Do you think these new meds will let my hair grow back in for real? You know, not all *blows raspberry* and falling out if I pet it the wrong way? Should I get a wig...?

Middle name, I need a middle name. I've got an F initial, shall I take an M? Zero Millions Fisher? Xiro Multitude Fisher? Manifest? Milorose? I got time! This is great! Thank you, Canada! Now I have a little project to distract myself!

(Don't worry, honey, I'll always be "Wy" to you. It's an adjacent letter, it's all the tail end of the alphabet, it's fine!)

[airyravenmaid]

SAGAU: My Style

Back at it again with sharing my personal ideas with the Self-Aware Genshin AU. I don't see myself writing a full-on fanfic about it because I do NOT trust myself with characterizing everybody properly, and some of the ideas I have in mind wouldn't make for a good universal experience for all, if that makes sense. So, instead, I'll just stick to pitching like I'm at a silly ol' business meeting and providing a simply layout. Now, keep in mind, this is going to focus more on my rendition of an Imposter AU specifically, which means I'm also going to do a little nitpicking of some common tropes in it that I find could be done better or even differently. It won't be me saying that anybody who writes them in the traditional sense is bad or doing a bad job, just what I'd do differently. So, without further ado, check out my mish-mushed ideas below the cut:

It all starts with the Creator Themsleves, aka, us. Or, rather, us before we became us. Not making sense? That's fine, but lemme delve into that a little better. Game lore-wise for this AU, there actually was a fully existing, fully breathing Creator that's been around since even before the Archons (but not by too much; Zhongli's still no spring chicken in spite of this). Yes, they did create Teyvat and all that's good in it like the flora, the fauna, and the creatures, and they had a close bond with said Archons not just as people serving, advising, and worshipping their God/ruler, but also in a legitimate friendship (so, no, they're not 100% subservient or gutless ass-kissers-- it's more of an equal dynamic). Maybe one Archon of your choice (within reason) being close enough to the point of being (secret) lovers, if you'd like. Such explains the Archons' deep attachment to the Creator, and their eagerness to see them again after tragedy-- like, say, the Cataclysm that razed Khaenri'ah-- renders them comatose and not to awaken again until present day. Until then, the Creator's body lies safely in sleep like Princess Aurora within their main temple/palace, occasionally visited by their old companions (minus Ei, who's in her hidey-hole until the Inazuma AQ's, but that goes without saying).

But, just before they do wake up, here comes a little (presumably Celestia-sent) POS known as the Imposter, who worms their way into the temple where the Creator lies, steals their garbs and replaces them with normal, less divine attire before sending their body far away apparently never to be seen again and lying on that resting spot acting as the Creator on the verge of waking up. And since no one knows what really happened, it looks like the promised day has come without issues, and the Imposter is welcomed by nearly all back to a throne that never actually belonged to them. As for the actual Creator... they're in good hands, because Teyvat would never mistake another for the All-Parent that breathed life into it and acts to protect their body hidden amidst nature in whatever region they landed in (your choice) until they really do wake up.

And when our in-game body does wake up, our real-life consciousness is transferred into it and overwrites our old, godly memories with our normal ones. Since I can't stand isekais that require us dying an early death IRL (like, at all, actually), we're either magically transported to Teyvat the old-fashioned magic way, or part of our consciousness goes into our in-universe body and leaves our physical forms in reality alone, thereby creating two versions of us going around two separate worlds. For better wording, that is, but that's the gist of it. Either way, we're the real deal Creator, but one without our old memories (apart from short visions we get of our old divine life that come up every now and again) as far as everyone else in Teyvat is concerned. They're not totally wrong, anyway. I was thinking this could be justified to everyone by our "past self" saying pre-slumber that they will reawaken without the knowledge of this world (aka, the Genshin one), but it will still very much be them/us.

By the way, when we stumble into the main town or city of whatever region we wound up in, the locals don't just immediately attack us for looking like the Imposter. While sometimes, I do enjoy kicking back and enjoying pure angst, I otherwise found that aspect of Villain/Imposter!SAGAU to be, comment dit-on... absurd, especially with nobody in Mondstadt (outside of that one nun not buying it and simply scolding him) giving two honks about Venti despite him looking like (being) Barbatos, and nobody in Liyue even noticing the resemblance between Zhongli and Rex Lapis/Morax. And given how much those nations revere their god, the argument of us being a higher deity cannot be made. So, instead, at absolute worst, people are just really unnerved by the uncanny resemblance we have to the Creator, but otherwise don't get alarmed... until the Imposter catches wind of us and changes that. The reason people start attacking us at all is because the Imposter weaves a forewarning of the Creator's antithesis equal to them in power known as the "Destroyer" will descend on Teyvat, attempt to steal the throne using the Creator's face, and do worse to the world than the Abyss Order ever could try to if not stopped. And, this may sound like something they just made up to get us killed, but in a way... it's true, only issue is that the acolytes + citizens have the wrong idea of who's who, of course. Plus, the actual, all-powerful Creator, if pushed too far by say... an incredibly lengthy and traumatic manhunt after being mistaken for the Destroyer, is capable of tearing the world limb from limb, because those who create can as easily destroy, but those who destroy can never create.

Speaking of "all-powerful"... why are we always completely powerless in these SAGAU works apart from crying and/or getting really angry (which ARE realistic and valid reactions to the shit we're going through, but it's not mutually exclusive to getting cool abilities)? Because we're not actually from Teyvat? Even Aether and Lumine have the power to wield the elements despite coming from somewhere else, and for us to not get that same honor is frankly dull as dishwater. That's a lot of missed potential to dip into the fantasy aspect of a fantasy game like Genshin Impact. It's here I'd like to take some inspiration from a show I've enjoyed for years known as none other than "Avatar: The Last Airbender". Not to mention, the term "avatar" generally refers to a "divine incarnation in human form", hello??? Ahem! In other words, instead of being completely incapable of defending ourselves, we-- being the almighty Creator-- are able to wield all seven elements at once, but we have to gradually learn how to effectively use and master them. We do start with one element (any of your choice), then work our way up in order of the loading screen. IE: say your element is Cryo, you'd have to go Geo -> Pyro -> Hydro -> Anemo -> Electro -> Dendro. Such was the same in our past life, but we had the Archons to teach us and help us master those abilities through time.

Which means now, we need other people to help us do it again in our new "incarnation", and that's in the form of 5-star Vision holders since they fit the bill of "master" a bit better, being the rarer, stronger characters and junk. Of course, this is likely with discretion, because some might not be wise to learn from (such as Klee, funny as that'd be). I'm also discounting learning from the Archons because not only has our time with them from the previous life passed, but I don't find it fair to learn from a powerful god of that element, even if we're a god ourselves. It's more balanced learning from someone beneath that level (so, yes, an adeptus would still qualify). Also, important note here: not every single playable character is going to try and kill us for the Creator-Destroyer thing. NPCs are one thing because, let's be real, they're sheep, but it isn't realistic or in-character for everybody playable to want us dead. While a fair chunk would probably be on board for the sake of not letting the world blow to smithereens (and not because, you know, Same Face Syndrome, because that's completely insane), some might not outright believe the alleged prophecy for one reason or another, such as not being fond/trusting enough of the apparent "Creator" to just listen to them right off the bat, or getting to already find out who the real Creator is and knowing we're not the enemy. Whatever the reason is, we're going to have allies, including ones that join us in our quest to defeat the Imposter and take back the throne to restore balance to Teyvat. This can also include those who initially sided with the Imposter, but for one reason or another such as seeing our gold blood, they have a change of heart and tag along for the ride. For us to just go about Teyvat on the lam with nobody having our back is just... depressing, and not even in the fun way, either. I understand this faction of SAGAU tends to be purely angst-based, but come on, it doesn't have to all be a total bummer all the time. There's no rule that says we can't go through the angsty, heartwrenching stuff with traveling companions to call our own there for us through it all.

Now, of course, whoever those traveling companions are is really up to you because not all of us are gonna wanna tag up with and learn from the same bitches as the next guy. So, it's anybody's game with anybody's reasoning and circumstances (such as which region we wake up in, who our first companion(s) would be there, then which region we move onto, and even what element we have to learn next). Also, fitting the max. number of characters you can have on one team, it'd just be four actively traveling alongside us through Teyvat with other allies remaining where they are, whether they helped us master an element or not. But, no matter anybody's personal tastes and choices, I really wish there was more of a thrilling "fantastical group adventure" kind of element to this genre of SAGAU, because the potential is there, just-- seldom reached, from what I've seen, personally. I'd be more than happy adding onto this with anything I might have missed, but that's basically the gist of my view of this AU.

[danpuff-ao3]

whichever of 1, 15, 23 you'd like to answer please! for end of the year asks

Hello there! Thanks for asking! 😄 I do so love to ramble chat so I'll answer them all!

1.) favorite fic you wrote this year

This is a tough one! Only because the answer is so clear, in spite of the fact that...I really love a lot of what I wrote this year! Orange Blossoms was self-indulgent fun. In My Veins (In My Blood) was my dead dove dream!

And while my runners up were posted this year, I can rest easy in that I actually wrote them late last year. Black Skies (for Blackcest fest) and A Matter of Time (for Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt.)

So many fics posted this year are ones I love and am so proud of.

But...c'mon. Can my favorite be anything other than Contempt? I talk about it to death, but god. That is literally the story of my soul. Every word is written in my blood. I pulled it straight out my bones. It is the product of years of dreaming, years of headcanons, years of feeling. And it is to date the work I'm most proud of.

And let me tell you I agonized over writing that story. Writing that story was actual hell. But it was 1000% worth the struggle.

15.) something you learned this year

If I'm ever tempted by a fest, that's the devil talking. Fun as they are! And I'm stupidly proud of all the fics I've written for fests. But...on the whole I'm not sure they're worth all of the stress. Cuz yikes.

Also, though...that it's okay to say "no" to things, and to back out of stuff if I have to. I dropped a handful of fests this year and felt super guilty about it, but...it was really good for me! I have to do a better job of recognizing and respecting my own limits. And that it's okay if I can't accomplish a million and one things. It's okay to rest sometimes. And it's good for me to focus on what I want to do, rather than what I "have" to do.

23.) fics you wanted to write but didn’t

Omg so many. I think the ones that really haunt me are Three of Hearts and my Sugar Daddy fic. Last year I made it a goal to have Three of Hearts outlined this year, so...I should work on that! I still have a few weeks left to knock out a decent outline. With luck I can get to the actual writing portion next year.

Sugar Daddy...I started last year, but I've been dealing with the fallout of last year's nonsense all this year, so maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I'm really excited for it, though, so I really hope to focus on it soon!

Also my Dralbus fic, but there's so much history attached to that fic, that I'm not even going to try to pressure myself on getting that one done. My goal is to finish it one day, come hell or high water, but I don't need a deadline for one day.

Truthfully, though, I always have more ideas than I can reasonably keep up with, so it's no surprise I have way too many answers, and always will! 😂

fanfic end of year asks

answered: 1, 15, 23

[quaranmine]

how do you convince yourself to write lol i have ideas on ideas on ideas that i elaborate on and plan out in my docs but i can never actually put pen to paper and get the story out

hm, this is a complicated question to answer. mostly because i'm not quite sure.

I think a healthy dose of it is just spite, for me. Like spite directed at myself. Because I always enjoyed writing, but back in high school i would start wip after wip after wip and just abandon them after a page. I finished two fics out of, like, dozens that i tried to write over the course of a few years. and then i just stopped writing fiction altogether for five years! I got back into it because this fandom and community inspired me enough for me to have a lot of ideas again. And I think part of the reason I write, and do these challenges and stuff, is because I was always VERY self critical about my lack of ability to finish anything. So to spite myself and prove myself wrong, I write. every time i finish something, or write something longer than 1000 words, i'm proving to my past self that i CAN do things.

***note that i do not recommend being self critical about this. it's okay if you don't write much or at all. be gentle with yourself. i'm saying part of the reason i am motivated is to prove myself wrong.

As for the writing challenges...I wouldn't say I do my best work during them. I'm often frazzled and stressed about meeting a deadline. I'm exhausted right now just thinking about the fact that at the time of answering this, i STILL need to do my writing for the day. However, it establishes a routine for me. It forces me to think about my projects in practical terms every day. It forces me out of the daydreaming mode into going "okay, how do i actually get something done today?" it helped me to do it for over 2 months earlier in the year to finish htbahb, and it's helping me right now. i'll be able to ride off that routine of writing regularly for a while even after i complete the challenge. and posting it publicly on tumblr is sort of holding me accountable to my word. i mean, i don't think literally any of you would care/think badly of me if i just didn't do it or skipped a day, but knowing that i'm posting about it to you all makes me a lot more keen to keep my word, if that makes sense.

as for the rest of my motivation, i think it comes from how much i like having a finished product. i like seeing people reblog the fanfic and tag it. i like reading my reviews on AO3. i even have a folder in my phone of screenshots of reviews/tags on my work that i particularly like that i can refer back to for a smile :] so this, again, is just sort of a reminder on why it's good to interact with content made by artists, writers, etc in the fandom. it really goes a LONG way to incentivizing people to keep making cool stuff!!!

[themadauthorshatter]

... Yeah, I'm doing it.

And it won't be an outline-esque thing where it's in present tense, either, though I would like it to be(I wish to challenge myself!!).

TW warning for imprisonment, the world dying, war, torture, and basically A LOT of negativity throughout this whole thing; the bookshop scene did not break my heart enough😅

Clipped Wings(A Good Omens Fanfic) Chapter 1!

I'm so sorry if there's another fanfic by that name!!!

It was over. Granted it was over when the Hellhound found the Antichrist, but now it was actually over. As in, over over. As in "no more chances" over. As in, "end of the world" over.

It was over the minute Hastur and Ligur had hidden in Crowley's flat and gotten the jump when he'd gotten a call from Aziraphale on who and where the bloody Antichrist even was.

It was over when Aziraphale finished his call with Crowley and was(quite rudely) dragged out of his own home and bookshop by Michael and Sandalphon. (Granted, they at least asked first, giving their best smiles and standing prim and proper as if they owned the establishment and not the Principality himself, but Aziraphale merely politely declined. Apparently, being polite was still a slap in the face.)

Now the two were in neighboring cells, sitting as close as they could as they allowed the silence to consume them.

Neither cell was very comfortable, what with no bed or even chairs present, but at least there were windows in place of one of the walls.

Perfect to watch it all with.

Crowley groaned as he tipped his head back and watched the ceiling instead, counting the tiles for the eleventh or twelth time. Or maybe the thirteenth?

It was hard to pass time when it didn't even matter.

In his own cell, Aziraphale chose to rest his head on his knees. His arms were sore from being pulled and dragged to this cold, musty little cell, his throat hurt from shouting, his head hurt from Michael holding him by the hair, and his chest hurt from the sight of the planet he'd been on for 6000 years, the place he truly called home.

Except for Bastille, of course, where the cell was also cold, musty and little.

In spite if himself, he chuckled.

"You alright, Angel?" He heard Crowley ask.

Aziraphale rested his head against the wall, allowing himself to look at the ceiling for a change. "Just reminicing, Dear boy. Is your head any better?"

In his cell, Crowley ran a hand over the back of his skull, where Hastur had smashed a ceramic plant pot to incapacitate him, and wondered which plant Hastur tore apart for it.

He also wondered if Hastur tore apart ALL of his plants while waiting for him in his flat.

"Still stings," he replied instead. "How about you? Think you'll live?"

Aziraphale chuckled once more. "I think I'll manage." The angel glanced at the world, at London, at Tadfield as angels and demons raced to beat each other to where the battle would commence. He sighed as the ache in his chest returned. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were just like humans."

"Humans have a 'stop' button, angel," Crowley reminded. "Try getting a demon to stop from a good temptation."

Aziraphale shrugged at the notion. "I suppose you're right."

Crowley's hand reached to push his glasses higher on his face, but only brushed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. "Who was it?"

"Whom, dear?"

"The Antichrist," Crowley lightly snapped. "Who was it?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips as his eyes met the floor. "A boy by the name of Adam Young. I believe he lived right in Tadfield, as well."

Clouds grew over all of England, all starting from London and growing outward, dark and presumably heavy with rain, a testament to the boy’s growing power.

Crowley ignored them and instead glared at the floor.

Tadfield. Just under their noses.

With a hiss, he drove his heel into the ground, grunting at the smart growing up his leg. "Damn it," he swore. "Go-... Sat..." He threw his head back and let out a hoarse, loud yowl. "Damn it all, SOMEBODY!"

Aziraphale let him shout, let him speak the words he himself couldn't find. He barely trusted himself to speak, anyway.

Crowley's chest heeved as he drove his fist into the floor, grinded his teeth together, bit his tongue, anything to ignore the hollowness growing from the angel in the cell next to or across from him; he felt so close, like they weren't seperated by marble or stone.

"Any miracles, angel?"

Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear Aziraphale shake his head.

"Not one. I suppose you can't, either?"

Crowley inhaled sharply, the innocent remark worsening the growing hole in his chest.

Of course Heaven and Hell would have 'miracle-proof' cells. There weren't any doors, either, just five slabs of stone around them woth one large, unbreakable piece of glass to keep them from trying any further from stopping the stupid war.

And try they did, for their own parts. They'd kept Heaven and Hell away from the real Antichrist for eleven years, ensured their sights had been on young Warlock, instead, but Adam was now in his power and raging about the world, and there was no one to stop him; the only two who cared enough to try were nearly back to back as Heaven and Hell prepared themselves.

"Do you wish... we had more time?"

Crowley turned, even though he was met with a wall rather than Aziraphale's face. "What?"

Aziraphale's hands rested in his knees. "6000 years on that wonderful planet. Do you wish we had a bit more time to really enjoy it?"

Crowley furrowed his brow.

Heaven and Hell had nothing compared to Earth. On Earth, you never saw the two same faces, never had the same conversations, never went to bring someone down the first chance they had. Neither had ever been known for good food or alcohol or entertainment or music or transportation.

At the thought of the latter...

"Think the Bentley'll be okay?"

Aziraphale swallowed as his throat dried. "I would hope so," he reasoned. He tried not to imagine the car used as a shield before it was used as a weapon or made into a trap or being torn to pieces to make different types of weapons. Another thought bloomed in his mind, one that left a pit in his stomach. "Do you think the bookshop will be alright?"

Crowley's skin crawled. The bookshop, that cozy, small, warm bookshop. He imagined it brimming with plotting angels or scheming demons, either side most likely talking about how to beat the other. The books and candles would be used as fuel for hellfire and the kettles and bottles would be vessels for holy water. Every part of that shop would be ripped away from the angel, perversed by war and greed and pride.

To imagine it's walls used as a base rather than a home was sickening.

"Yeah," he stated simply, the knotting in his stomach growing as Aziraphale drew a shaking breath.

His eyes returned to Earth as it seeingly grew closer, close enough for them to see the faint images of Gabriel and Beezlebub standing before each other, both eying each other with their respective sides behind them as they stalked toward one another, each hungry to fight. The Four Horsemen were present as well, all glancling and smirking at the display of celestial rivalry(Both the angel and demon presumed Death was smirking beneath his hood).

Ever the preener, Gabriel donned himself in a fine suit, coat, and scarf, each piece of clothing a blinding white that made the silver of his wings shine more.

Beezlebub had always had hard to impress, namely because it was he who impressed everyone else in Hell, even now in their black suit that hung around their wrists and ankles crown of flies and thin, slightly veined wings that barely matched their petite size, even compared to the nauseating magnificence of the archangel Gabriel.

It's starting. And here we are.

Crowley remained where he sat on the floor, but Aziraphale pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the window, getting close enough to press his hand against the glass, to fog it with his breath and he exhaled more and more unevenly.

His breathing worsened as Hastur lunged forward. Michael and Uriel raced ahead as well, even as Gabriel protested, and snatched the demon by the arms, easily lifting him and smashing themselves and him into the ground.

The rest of the fight was hidden by the remaining angels and demons charging forward and colliding, displaying their holiness and disgrace in a show that was 6000 years in the making.

And you could have stopped it if you had just tried harder. If you had told Crowley sooner. If you had been smarter than to waste all that time.

Where Aziraphale forced himself to watch, Crowley resolutely stared at the wall opposite to him; he'd seen enough to know all wars ended one of three ways, anyway, with one side winning, the other side winning, or neither side winning. And knowing neither side was human, that could mean a century of fighting, if either side was really desperate.

Neither spoke as the war raged on. Crowley eventually did turn to see what everyone had been working for, and he wished he hadn't.

Too many faces were blurred together and contorted with a fury fit for wild animals, familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. He managed to spot a few in the fray, but only in brief glimpses.

Michael and Dagon slashed at each other with near matching daggers, Michael's hair cropped and torn as Dagon's remained slicked back and off his forehead.

Ligur kicked and stomped at Uriel, cackling over her, before the archangel yanked his foot out from beneath him and pummeled his face with her fist, each blow like the swing of a sledge hammer, impacting harder and faster each time.

Sandalphon cracked a whip in the air before sending it to Hastur, who grabbed a lesser coworker and hurled it to the weapon before it struck him, only to sprint forward when Sandalphon drew back for another strike.

As usual, it was Gabriel and Beezlebub that stole the show, the two tearing at each other like wolves with Beezlebub digging her teeth and nails into Gabriel's hand as he pulled at her hair and repeatedly struck his face with a bloodied fist.

There was a lot of that, as well. Blood. Humans were a breed apart from angels and demons, mainly because no matter what the color of their skin was, what the color of their hair was, what the color of their eyes was, they all bled the same crimson liquid as each other.

Most angels more or less bled light, or what looked like liquid light, a fluid that glowed brought as the sun, even from the smallest cut. Some others bled what looked to be a mix of silver and gold. Some bled silver while others bled gold.

Demons, however, only bled one thing: black. An inky, rich fluid that was thick as viscose as syrup but darker than Hell itself(Or the hole where Hastur's soul used to be).

Both sides bled and it stained the ground, and soon the beams of light leaving the angels' bodies already made it hard to watch the fight, but the black blood of the demons stained the fighters and the ground.

Through his disgust, his horror, his sorrow, and his despair, Crowley had to admit it: It was spectacular, but it was also the worst thing he'd seen since the Spanish Enquisition.

"I wonder who will win?" Aziraphale asked emptily.

Crowley clenched a fist as he bit his tongue again. "Me too."

"We were almost the ones down there," Aziraphale continued, more or less to himself. "And almost fought each other like they're doing right now."

Crowley tried not think about it like that, that he and Aziraphale were so close to destroying each other.

When the angel gasped, Crowley looked toward the window once more.

Everyone had stopped, all fear struck and almost sheepish, like they were all children in the face of a scornful mother.

Because they were, and, even in their cells millions of miles away, Crowley and Aziraphale heard Her words like they were on Earth as well, Her voice booming like a clap of thunder, sending a shiver through everyone, especially compared to her usually gentle tone when sparsely talking to them.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" The Almighty demanded. "HAVE YOU ALL GONE MAD!?"

The fighting had stopped, the horsemen were gone, and each side had gone deafly quiet, even Gabriel, who pranced about his own greatness, even Hastur, who looked fearful for his own actions for once.

Get the bastards, Crowley willed as he glared at Gabriel and Hastur. Please, Lord, make them pay for all of this.

Gabriel simply smiled up to the sky, his breathing uneven from the foght and from being punished by his creator. "This was your plan, wasn't it? We're doing what you told us to. You don't play games with the universe."

"Is it?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley knitted his brow. "Eh?"

"The Great plan, is it the Ineffable plan?"

Crowley barely had time to think about it when God spoke again.

"I have a plan, Gabriel, but I never said I didn't play games." The Almighty fell silent for a moment. "Where are Aziraphale and Crowley?"

The angels and demons all turnned their heads as they muttered, each asking for the Principality and demon. Only the archangels and the few high-ranjing demons stood resolutely, only looking for a way to save themselves.

"Well?" God snapped. "Where are they?"

Beezlebub stood forward, his small hand raised. "We've searched all through Hell for the demon, My Lord," she said as she tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. "He's gone."

"As is the angel Aziraphale," Gabriel cut in. "He conspired against Heaven with the demon Crowley and the two tried to prevent the Great War. Surely, that is going against your Ineffable plan, isn't it? Working with the enemy to stop the unstoppable?"

A wave of burning, suffocating rage washed over Crowley, one that swept him off his feet and sent him to the floor with a nearly silent scream.

"He's lying!" Aziraphale cried as he rapped on the glass with his fist. "They’re both lying to you! We're trapped, Lord! Get us out, please!"

"When did I ever say angels and demons were enemies? And when did I say all of you had my permission to tear each other apart and destroy Earth!?"

The waves increased and Crowley actually did scream this time. He'd felt rage before, both his own and others'. He'd even felt the Devil's rage.

God's rage had nothing to it. Where the Devil's rage only struck at his chest and spread outward in pain and a burning that couldn't be cooled, God's rage struck all of Crowley's body and burned every inch of him, making movement and talking damn near impossible.

There was only one reason why she'd be so angry and there was only one thing she'd do with that anger, one thing she'd direct it at.

The cold of his own horror momentarily washed away the burning pain of God's rage.

"Don't," he begged, the air he didn't need already out of his lungs. "Please, don't! I beg you, please!"

Aziraphale fled from the window and to the wall he and Crowley had sat against. "Crowley, dear, what's wrong? What's happening?"

His answer came from his and Crowley's creator.

"You want to destroy the world so much? Forsake all life that I've created so that you can act on your own pride?"

The rage and burning grew even more until Crowley wondered if he'd be set of fire, if he'd been set on fire. He moved to stand again, but his nerves and muscles protested in earnest, crying out both on and under his skin every time he twitched and moved one of his limbs. Another feeling raced through him as well, one that he shared with the Lord feeling it: Anguish. Regret. Sorrow.

He lay a trembling hand on the glass, trying to use its cold surface to distract from the pain of God's rage and growing remorse.

He wasn't alone in his fear; Aziraphale's eyes widened as realization dawned on him.

"No," he murmured.

Don't do it, Crowley pleaded in his mind as he drew heavy, uneven breathes. You're supposed to love everything you create, not destroy it! Not again!

On Earth, the angels and demons glanced cautiously at one another, waiting for God to speak again.

"Fine."

The blue sky deepened to crimson as the ground shook, illiciting frightened helps and screams from angels and demons alike. What began as a slight tremor grew to violent quakes as fissures and cracks spread over the ground.

It then split open and flames burst out. The angels and demons screamed as they scurried away, leaving in flashes of lightning and hiles in the ground.

The sky broke as well and a flurry of rain and blood poured down, causing the flames to grow. Lightning struck harder and harder and the earth continued to break aparf and spew fire.

The image of the battleground shrank until the planet was in full view of their windows again, and now both angel and demon stared out at the scene, unable to look away.

The lands turned to flame, the blue oceans turned red, and the white-grey clouds turned black from smoke. Even the moon crumbled and flew towards the already dying planet.

More smoke. More flames. More red seas.

"NO!" Aziraphale cried. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Stop it," Crowley muttered before shouting, smashing his fist against the glass. "Stop it! They've done nothing! They prayed to you! Did what you wanted! THEY LOVE YOU!"

They're words were only met with a world that burned, that drowned, that bled, that crumbled.

Well, crumbled was putting it lightly. It was more the flames and blood grew to the point that the Earth's core boiled up and caused something of an explosion that obliterated all existing life, something that tended to happen when God was angered enough.

Only this time, there was nothing left.

No humans. No birds. No cats or dogs. No ducks. No plants. No cars. No bookshops. No restaurants. No garden.

No humans.

Nothing.

It was quiet.

It was too quiet.

It was dark, too, even with the sun burning in the distance.

Aziraphale's hands shook on the glass as it darkened and hardened beneath his touch. "Wait," he whispered. "Wait, no." The window's transparency soon became opaque, leaving the cell dark, save for a small light in the center of the ceiling. "No!" He cried as his fist slammed against fresh stone.

Crowley gasped as his window was replaced with a stone wall, quiet as Aziraphale yelled and battered his hands. He only spoke when Aziraphale broke down into tears, and he cast a teary, broken glare to the ceiling, to the universe outside of it.

"This was your plan!?" Crowley demanded. "Create life just to destroy it!? They didn't even do anything!"

Unlike before, there was silence from the Creator, the same silence he always got whenever he prayed.

That made him angrier.

"They must've cried when you destroyed them! They must've begged, at least! Did you enjoy it!? Takimg it all out on th' kid that stood by and watched instead of the two actually fighting and making a mess!? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING ANYMORE, GOD!?" Crowley roared. "DO YOU EVEN CARE!? THEY WERE YOUR CHILDREN, TOO!"

Again he was met with silence, save for the sound sof Aziraphale's sobbing.

The anger melted away and hot, heavy tear rolled down his face. His legs weakened as well and sent him plopping to the ground. Shame filled him as he let himself cry with Aziraphale.

Demons were often whipped for their tears in Hell, but what else was he going to do? He was probably going to few worse than a few lashes already.

The last he could do was let Aziraphale shed his tears and not bother him for it. Aziraphale was showing him the courtesy of not trying to stop him, so it was only fair.

At least we're together, Angel.

[bex-pendragon]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @odakota-rose - thank you!

name: ReginaPendragon on AO3.

fandoms i write for: I'm probably best known for my OUAT stuff, but I've been dabbling in some new fandoms lately. I also wrote for HP waaaayyy back in the day, as well as Merlin and Star Trek.

two-shot: Technically my Shadow and Bone skating AU is a two-shot right now, but it's going to end up being longer. The next chapter will be about Zoya. I also wrote a short thing from Ace's POV after the Nancy Drew finale. I haven't posted it yet, but if I get any traction, it might be nice to do a response from Nancy's POV because damn, did they ever hit me in the feels!

most popular multi-chapter: Fire and Ice. This was my big contribution to the Outlaw Queen fandom. It was a hell of an undertaking, but it helped me grow a lot as a writer.

actual worst part of writing: Not knowing if I'm doing it right. Sometimes I'll write something and think it's the best thing I've ever done. Then the next day I think it's garbage. There is no in between. Wishing I could download the words directly from my brain. Envisioning the perfect scene and not being able to make it as epic on the page as it is in my head.

how you choose your titles: For fanfic, I mostly steal from song lyrics/titles, or quote something from the source material. For my original work, it's a lot harder. I try to pick a recurring theme or word and work from there.

do you outline: I've come around to the concept of outlining in the last few years, especially for my original stories. I've always been a plantser and I still consider myself one. I always know how the story ends and I make a chronological list of things that need to happen along the way. But it's a loose plan. I deliberately leave room in the plan for creativity and adjust accordingly. As long as I'm working toward the intended ending, it doesn't matter if I take a more scenic route to get there. Getting there is what matters. So I'd say my original stories are more planned these days, but my fanfics tend to be less planned.

ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: I'll probably never finish that Newtina thing I started years ago due to... reasons. Part of me is like, do it to spite the original author and her terrible opinions! But another part is like, no, leave it be. The time for this has passed. I feel guilty about leaving people hanging, though. I wrote a one-shot for them that was super popular.

I also had another figure skating AU idea after watching the Loki finale and... ok, that might still happen. The world needs more Sylvie. But does the world need more skating AUs? Probably not. That's just my weird thing.

callouts @ me:

Commas and ellipsis and m dashes as far as the eye can see

Putting the same 5 artists on every story playlist

Not enough conflict! Lack of villain motivation! Weird pacing and tangents! Too niche!

I'm terrible at writing descriptions.

best writing traits: I'm actually really good at dialogue. I often have to go back and pad out the rest of the story because it's 90% dialogue.

spicy tangential opinion(s):

Songfics should've never gone out of fashion.

Sometimes you need to write a cringe-y self-insert first in order to grow as a writer (me @ myself 12 years ago)

Genfic should be more popular

Tropes and archetypes aren't bad! It's all in how you use/combine/subvert them!

Tagging: whoever wants to do it! *side-eyes writer friends*