#cw: beheading

[stil-lindigo]

scorched earth.

a comic about a princess who died in a fire.

(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)

--

creative notes:

--

all my other comics

store

[bearlyfunctioning]

I hope you'll forgive me for doing a very different bear comic for this spooky season! I spent way too long on it, even though I'll never be able to group it with the others. Just like when I was experimenting with format last year xD

It is packed full of symbolism that is significant to me, interpret it however you like (just be kind)

[sparkly-key]

The ebb and flow of a flatlining heart

An alternate timeline where Aziraphale and Crowley didn't stop Armageddon. Heaven and Hell get their war as Adam Young reshapes and rules the world in his image. Crowley and Aziraphale work with Anathema to save what remnants of humanity they can, but Aziraphale's guilt over possessing and losing humans drive him to plot a dangerous heist to get a corporation from Heaven - and Crowley's insistence on coming turns disastrous. The prequel to wayneveresque-phd's (Not) Fine.

Her tumblr

AO3: (Not) Fine, The ebb and flow of a flatlining heart

When your long-time writing partner offers to emotionally torture characters in connection with the physical pain you inflict, you don't say no - even if you end up whumping yourself along the way.

Other works in this series: When my presence brings you pain | The monster in the mirror | On AO3

Content warnings: Blood, violence, gore, mutilation, torture, gun violence, branding, beheading, major character death - as in a majority of the characters die. I give you all those and, in exchange, you get BAMF Aziraphale and self-sacrificing Crowley.

Whumptober 2023 Day 16 - "Would you lie with me and just forget the world?" | Gurney | Flatline | "Don't go where I can't follow."

Aziraphale felt the grace flooding through his veins as the corporation was finished, the flesh shell molding itself to his astral form. Gingerly, he tested his movements – flexing his fingers and rolling his neck as the mind and body reconnected.

“Crowley, it worked!“ he turned, exciting to have replicated the process he’d only seen done a few times. He was expecting to see the demon where he’d been when the process had started, but no one was there.

He scrambled for his watch, cupping the timepiece in his palm before he checked the log on the machine. 30 minutes.

“Oh no,” he whispered, his eyes wide as his gaze ricocheted around Heaven.

Crowley had promised they would stay together – He wouldn’t have lied, not about this.

BANG!

A demonic howl tore through Heaven after the gunshot, the noise piercing Aziraphale’s heart.

He ran faster than he had in ages.

Upstairs wasn’t designed for secrecy; with the way the wide expanse was mainly interrupted by columns. Only few spaces were enclosed, like the corporation chamber. But the open spaces made it feel like a labyrinth, each identical column adding to an endless illusion. Instinctively, he ran toward the lobby.

There was movement and while a part of him screamed to avoid this, for his own safety, he ignored it and rushed ahead. Crowley – he could see him, the taupe suit he’d miracled into to blend in enough of a different shade to immediately call his eye. There were angels on either side of him, forcing him to kneel. His head hung, a curtain of red curls shielding his face. A third angel towered over him, his arm raised.

BANG!

“Crowley!” He cried, racing into the lobby as the demon sagged against his captors’ hold. Aziraphale’s shout drew his gaze upward and the angel’s gut wrenched at the black blood staining his clothes.

“Angel, no!”

Something struck the back of his head and he fell to his knees feet away from Crowley, trying to fight the dizziness that suddenly overwhelmed his vision. He hissed as angels grabbed his arms, forcing them behind his back and crowding around him.

“Ah, the traitor angel came for his pet demon,” the leader drawled, examining the gun in his hand. “Well, I suppose the volume of this weapon has some advantages – We’ve been cutting at him for 10 minutes and his screams didn’t manage to reach you.”

He moved out of the way.

Aziraphale flinched as he realized Crowley’s body was littered with wounds, blood seeping out from slashes and gaping holes along his torso and thighs. With Crowley’s lip was split and a gash along his forehead drenched his face in blood – what Aziraphale initially thought was shadow from Crowley’s bent head was partially the dark ichor.

“Sorry, Aziraphale – didn’t want to interrupt –“ Crowley gasped as the angel’s foot smashed into his jaw.

“No – Please, stop!” The blond struggled against his captors. “He didn’t do anything!”

The statement spurred a chorus of mocking laughter.

“The Serpent of Eden, not doing anything?” One of the angels trapping Crowley snarled, twisting her hold. The demon grimaced, gritting his teeth from the pain.

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought if you think that,” the leader (Nithael, Aziraphale recognized belatedly, another Principality) snapped as he circled Aziraphale. “Not only is he a demon – inherently guilty and damned beyond redemption – but he is the creator of original sin. For millennia, his work has been humanity’s burden. And we are finally ridding the Earth of his crimes. When Armageddon is finished, we will have a clean slate to build paradise.”

He nodded toward Crowley. “But first, we should remind the demon of Her command as his punishment.”

“Stop!” Aziraphale begged, twisting to try to look over his shoulder at the leader. The angel on his right struck, cuffing his head.

“What use does a serpent have for hands or legs? Don’t you remember you were cursed to crawl on your belly, all food turning as ash in your mouth?”

“No, stop! Please, there is no need to hurt him. He’s just doing as I asked.” Aziraphale found himself begging. He was speaking so fast his tongue felt like it was in knots, but if they would just listen and understand they would leave him out of this. “He’s not on Hell’s side. He’s on his own side! Arguably, he’s done more damage to their side than—”

“Not helping, angel.” Crowley gave him a sad smile.

“Be silent, fiend!” He received a vicious blow to his jaw.

Crowley spat blood at their feet, laughing as they forced his hands out in front of him.

One angel held one arm, and another held the second while one pushed down on his shoulders and two held Aziraphale back. Nithael approached with a silver samovar. Aziraphale screamed curses. He fought and struggled in his new corporation as they brought the substance that would not only dissolve Crowley’s corporation but completely destroy him.

Crowley screamed as the liquid trickled on his skin, wrinkling the flesh with controlled heat. Nithael dribbled the Holy Water carefully, apparent delight on his face as the divine power scarred Crowley’s hands. Aziraphale screamed, the words sounding as though he were speaking in tongues with desperation, and his pleas drowned out Crowley’s howls, muffled by the demon’s gritted teeth.

“And lest any forget the curse you have wrought upon Heaven,” the tormenter intoned, turning to a new angel who carried an iron rod.

Aziraphale stilled at the sight of the brand, the sigil on the end glowing with sickening heat. “DON’T!” He screamed, as the symbol pressed into Crowley’s neck.

The demon screamed, unable to restrain himself, as the skin bubbled and warped beneath the brand. His struggles ceased, leaving only Aziraphale’s howls to echo in the cavernous halls of Heaven.

Aziraphale thrashed with unholy strength, his might surprising his captors. His wings burst forth, throwing the pair against pillars, the columns crumpling on top of them as the blond lunged forward. He crashed into the one wielding the brand, wresting it from his grasp, and forcing him to the ground, his foot on his throat. He felt nothing but cold fury as he twisted the rod against his victim’s face, marking the celestial with the same scar placed upon his friend as the angel screamed and thrashed beneath him.

Somebody grabbed his wing and Aziraphale spun, the poker still in his hand. The rod caught the angel whose hands on Crowley’s back had stilled the demon as the Holy Water touched his flesh. With a snarl, the guardian of Earth surged, driving the cooling brand against the angel’s skull with a sickening crunch.

“Traitor!” The second angel who’d restrained Crowley threw himself upon the blond’s back and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s throat. His free hand clawed at Aziraphale’s face, scratching and gouging at his eyes.

Aziraphale rocketed into the air, their forms corkscrewing as his attacker struggled to hold on. Aziraphale pulled the angel off of him as he flew, one hand clenched around the arm that had choked him as he dragged his opponent higher.  As vast as it seemed, Heaven still had a ceiling, and he threw the angel against it with as much force as he could muster, the ceiling fracturing around his victim. With a growl, Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the angel’s throat, squeezing as his victim clawed at his arms until his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he slumped against Aziraphale’s hold.

He cried out as a blade pierced his shoulder where his left wing met his body, impaling him. His new attacker withdrew the sword, and grabbed his wing to throw him toward the ground.

“You should have stayed on Earth,” Nithael snarled, flying after Aziraphale.

The guardian of Earth bit back a cry of pain and rage as he beat his wings furiously to control his descent so he could land safely. He twisted to block Nithael’s strike, wrapping around the sword where the hilt and the blade fused, the metal biting into his palms as he forced the blade to the side.

“You’re pathetic, Aziraphale, deserving of the darkest pit of Hell,” Nithael hissed, matching his might. “Surrender and we’ll let your pet leave Heaven.”

He slammed his head forward, bashing against Aziraphale’s as the blond’s nose broke with a sickening crunch.

Aziraphale snarled as the blood flowed, the metallic taste on his lips. “Liar,” he hissed and drove his knee into Nithael’s stomach. With a vicious yank, he freed the blade, sending it skittering away from them. Aziraphale twisted, forcing the Principality’s body to roll with him. He straddled Nithael, his fingers digging into the angel’s eyes sockets.

Nithael’s scream of pain echoed as surely as Crowley’s had as Aziraphale felt his eyeballs rupture at his touch.

Aziraphale slouched over the body, ragged breaths escaping as he –

BANG!

His head shot up, cold blue eyes landing on the lone angel standing over Crowley with the divine firearm shaking in his gasp.

Crowley was curled on the ground, body convulsing in a pool of onyx blood.

“D-don-don’t move,” the last member of Heaven’s guard stuttered, turning the gun toward Aziraphale.

It was a fruitless order as Aziraphale was already charging toward him, swooping to collect Nithael’s sword. The bullet slammed into his leg, causing him to falter a second before he ducked under the angel’s arm and dragged the blade across his stomach, ignoring the startled gasp that escaped the last of Crowley’s tormenters. He twisted as the angel doubled over, the gun clattering to the floor, and swung the sword down, severing the angel’s neck.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale pleaded, dropping for his knees next to the demon. “Crowley, please – Please, I’m sorry.”

His hands flew to the newest bullet hole, flinching as Crowley hissed in pain.

“’S alrigh, ‘zira,” the demon moaned. “Jus’ hurts.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale whispered, trying to heal the worst of Crowley’s wounds. A trickle of grace flowed into the gunshot wound in Crowley’s gut and the demon’s pained scream shook the angel. “I’m sorry, I’m –“

“Don’t touch – hurts like Hell,” Crowley hissed, curling further in on himself.

If he couldn’t heal him –

“We have to get out of here,” Aziraphale said, collecting Crowley in his arms. His skin burned where his body touched the brand and he tried to ignore Crowley’s sobs as he stumbled to his feet. The demon’s lanky frame spilled over the angel’s arms as he took halting but determined steps to the elevator.

“Just hold on, my dear, please,” he begged as the doors closed, shunting them from Heaven’s gaze. “We’ll get help – you’ll be alright.”

The demon didn’t say anything, his body trembling against Aziraphale’s.

A sigh of relief escaped the blond as they reached Earth, emerging in warehouse that reeked of charred flesh and blood. The evidence of a battle was here – had Shax and her demons held the angels at bay? There were too many bodies to sort between angels and demons.

He gingerly dragged Crowley out of the elevator, stumbling several times over carnage and refuse.

His face was wet, whether from tears or blood, he didn’t know. His nose was swollen and his breathing labored as he found a recluse to hide Crowley in, a paranoid sense of dread gnawing at his mind.

“Where’s – An’thma?” Crowley ground out while Aziraphale arranged debris to shield the demon.

“I’ll message in a moment,” the angel promised, settling back on his knees and untucking his collared shirt so he could start ripping it for bandages. If his grace hurt Crowley, he had to find some other option to stop the bleeding.

His hands trembled as he folded the rough strips, packing it into the gunshot wound as gently but firmly as he could. “I’m sorry – sorry, my dear – I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise,” he muttered, flinching every time the demon hissed in pain.

“Didn’ wan to leave you,” Crowley slurred, his head rolling to the side as though it took too much effort to keep it upright. “Ha ta keep ‘em away till you were fin-finished …”

Aziraphale stilled as the words sunk in.

He had a corporation because Crowley had heard the angels and done something to lure them away from the chamber.

“Oh my dear,” he murmured, a quiet sob escaping his lips. His hands inched toward Crowley’s face but he recoiled at the demon’s whimper of pain, barely recognizing his own burns.

“Crowley?” Shax questioned, appearing at Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Are those bullet holes?”

The angel jumped in surprise, looking over his shoulder at her. “He got caught. They have a new gun or something – It it it hurts when I try to heal them –“

“Where is Michael’s lance?” Shax snapped, looking around.

“What? We didn’t get it – I was too busy getting Crowley out,” He turned his attention back to his friend. “I – I – I need –“

His sentence ended in a shout of pain as something heavy collided with his jaw, his vision too hazy from swelling and blood for his brain to register the threat. The world spun as he crumbled over Crowley, struggling not to surrender to the pain.

“You pathetic fool,” Shax snarled, shoving him to the floor. She towered over him, a club in her grasp.

He couldn’t lose this body. This couldn’t have been for nothing.

He rolled out of the way as Shax swung,

“I should have known better than to think a soft, useless lump of meat like you could have fulfilled his end of the bargain. Now I’ll look like an idiot for assisting an angel with nothing to show for it,” the demon spat.

Aziraphale’s vision still swam as he looked past her to the handful of demons emerging amid the debris. He couldn’t count their number, his eyes uncertain.

“Shax, truce,” he warned weakly. He blindly fumbled for something he could use to defend himself. His hand closed around a piece of rebar, trapped beneath a pile of refuse.

“Fuck the truce,” she snarled at the same time Crowley shouted a warning. She dropped the club and lunged toward him with a dagger. She fell on top of him.

He gasped in pain as she plunged the blade between his ribs. “If I cannot have the lance, then at least I can take your head on a platter,” Shax hissed angrily.

The rebar forgotten, Aziraphale covered her hand with his, his grip cruel around her wrist as he forced the blade out of his body. She struggled against him, her free hand finding where he’d been impaled on a sword earlier and digging viciously into the wound.

With a pained grunt, Aziraphale threw her off him and climbed hastily to his feet. The dagger was clutched in his left as he wavered. He ground his teeth against the thundering pain in his body and snapped his fingers, pulling from a draining pool of grace to create a sword in his right.

“Angel!” Crowley warned as a demon pounced on Aziraphale’s back.

Aziraphale grabbed his attacker’s arm before it could circle his throat and pulled him over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as the demon clawed at his wounded wing. He placed his foot on the demon’s chest, ignoring the claws that tore at his legs, and held the tip of his sword against the demon’s throat, the dagger pointed at Shax.

“Last chance,” he growled, the words harder to form, but his gaze never left hers.

Her lips curled. “Kill him.”

Aziraphale did as the demon ordered, making a swift cut across the underling’s throat.

Shax stepped back as two more demons threw themselves at him, biting and clawing like rabid animals. He ran his sword through one, letting go of the blade to shield his face from the barbed tongue that lashed out of the other. When it curled around his arm, the angel grabbed further up its slimy length, ignoring the way the barbs pierced his palm and hauling the demon closer until he could jam his dagger into its throat. Black bile gurgled out of the wound as Aziraphale forced his hands into the demon’s mouth and heaved, cleaving its jaw in half. With a snarl, he threw the lower part of the skull at Shax as its owner crumpled to the ground, blood drenching its form.

A third, a little weasel-like thing, climbed him easily, claws digging into his flesh with each step. Aziraphale screamed as the demon’s fangs ripped the flesh at his side, tearing muscle from the bone. He collapsed to his knees, howling as the bites continued, teeth sinking into his wings and body.

He almost sobbed in relief as the demon climbed off him before a thought – why had it? – started form and he grunted in pain as a pipe collided with his left temple. He fell backward, every fiber of his being burning in agony, and watched as Shax towered over him, the pipe raised over her head.

“You should have kept your end of the bargain,” she snarled. The pipe arced down toward his head.

SNAP

Aziraphale’s gaze flew past Shax’s frozen figure to land on Crowley, teeth clenched as he slumped to the floor. “Hurry  … up … Angel,” he ordered, the words slurred. “Can hold ‘em for long –“

He shouldn’t be holding them at all.

The blond scrambled to his feet, wavering slightly. Crowley was fading before him, the color draining from his face. “Crowley, stop – please –“

“Fin – finish ‘em,” the demon hissed.

Aziraphale grabbed the sword still buried in the one demon, pulling it loose.

He felt the freeze snap as he drove the blade through Shax’s chest, her corporation’s dying breaths wet as blood filled her mouth. With a grunt, Aziraphale freed the blade and slashed through the weaselly demon that launched himself at the angel, severing the spine. It fell to the ground, dead.

The sword clattered to the ground as Aziraphale stumbled to Crowley, still on the floor.

“You’re not going anywhere, do you hear me? Stay with me…just stay with me a little bit longer.” Aziraphale gasped desperately.

“Heh…too…fast for you?” Crowley managed to speak past the blood, this putrid substance falling down his chin. “Always…too fast. Always…too late.”

His eyelids fluttered and his breath rattled in his throat.

“Stay…a little bit longer.” Aziraphale begged, one hand holding the bloody gash in his side and the other reaching for the demon’s face. “Or…or I..I’ll do my magic show!”

This was the most ghastly threat he could imagine. The other one was far too close to mention. He would keep talking. He would talk until he ran out of combinations of words. His hand shook as it neared the demon’s face, but he recoiled as the skin on his hand began to sizzle. The bleeding brand on the demon’s neck grew red hot. Crowley choked and Aziraphale could not push past the pain.

“It’s just the two of us now.” He murmured, his own voice becoming airy and faraway as more blood leaked out of his corporation. Quite inconvenient, if anyone asked him. “No Heaven, no Hell. Just us.”

He begged, not caring what he had to promise, as long as Crowley lived.

[kinkyuh]

[ectokelpeigh]

Do you guys remember that episode where Vlad puts a million dollar bounty on Danny and a bunch of ghost hunters come to town

Danny gets sweet revenge by luring vampire hunters into town with Plasmius as the target.

Now, Vlad’s not in any danger. Most anti-vampire measures aren’t effective against him. Even getting staked and/or beheaded is unpleasant, but not catastrophic.

What's really annoying is when a couple of vampire hunters start to suspect Vlad Masters is also a vampire. Then there's no escape from the scrutiny. And if it comes down to it, it's a lot harder to explain how a stake to the heart doesn't kill him as a supposed Regular Human Man.

[bourgeoisie-agent]

he's still got a squishy face tho

[sparkbreeze]

“ if he doesn’t have a head on his shoulders, he’s not wearing [the crown] anymore “

[debbiecolon]

Excited to share the piece I made for @ardynzine! I drew Ardyn as Saint Denis. I find the imagery to be quite powerful and fitting.

[curioscurio]

She was voted most likely to be a Sith Lord in class and took it very seriously. Meet Darth Alicia

[transjudas]

The eternal grief of dwarfs.

[toadlett]

The ninth was the Nameless Headsman, who complained most bitterly of overwork.

[cuties-in-codices]

the beheading of john the baptist

in the 'ottheinrich bible', vol. 2, germany, ca. 1430

source: Munich, BSB, Cgm 8010(2, fol. 53r (detail)

[laufire]

Top 5 Turner scenes in GK to keep with my theme xDD

Using the truth about his bio parents to save Duela <3

Everything about the plot with Joe Chill.

Library bonding/appreciating Duela's honesty in the face of death.

All those little moments of simmering-but-tranquil jealousy when it comes to Carrie's relationship with Bruce. I thought they did a lot for the character(s) and I would've loved to see more of it.

Killing Talon. I love why he did it (to save Cressida, of all people), how he did, and how different the framing is compared to other bat-canons lol.

[kinkyuh]

[v1model]

smth i put on my twitterrrr orsomething // once again based on cosmicastra's gabriel

idk how to id this im so sorry

[bat-connoisseur]

Something like de ja vu