#i know angels share has non alcoholic drinks in canon but its not the same

[thoughts-from-a-monster]

Genshin Impact AU where everything is the same, but Diluc decides (as a side gig to managing the winery) to open a cafe since he doesn't like alcohol. He still works Angel's Share, but I could see him liking barista work and also liking coffee/cafe drinks.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 15: Friends to Lovers

The First Thanksgiving | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: General Word Count: 1184 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Mary Winchester,John Winchester,Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Traditions,Established Castiel/Dean Winchester,Thanksgiving,Thanksgiving Dinner,Minor Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester,Minor John Winchester/Mary Winchester Summary: Mary has a Thanksgiving tradition she’s carried on for years, but this year’s is particularly special.

For Better or Worse | @deansrightfulangerissue

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1497 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Parental Physical Abuse, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst Summary: When they first meet, Cas saves Dean from school bullies. Over the years, their friendship only grows stronger.

Quarantine Roomies | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2038 Main Tags/Warnings: domestic fluff, idiots in love, first kiss, college AU Summary: Cas and Dean roomie together while they have to go in quarantine to wait out the pandemic outbreak. They're friends. But maybe Dean misread Cas.

Sex Ed | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2324 Main Tags/Warnings: Roommates, Virgin Castiel, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Alpha Dean, Omega Castiel, Barebacking Summary: Cas grew up in a religious family who have kept him sheltered all his life. When he finally gets out of there, his knowledge about sex is seriously lacking. Luckily, his alpha roommate Dean knows all about sex and can teach him a thing or two. It would be so much easier if feelings weren’t involved…

Stay a While | @nickelkeep

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2755 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Roommates, Friends to Lovers, Moving in Together, Love Confessions Summary: With his brother expecting, Cas needs a place to live. With Sam moving out, Dean needs a roommate. After not living together for several years, can Cas and Dean make things work?

The Archaeologist and the Disco Ball | @saltnhalo

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2761 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Fluff, Love Confessions Summary: When Dean had agreed to take Castiel shopping for a costume to wear to Meg’s Halloween party this Friday, he had not expected the actual expedition to be so… difficult.

Pulling Shivers | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3200 Main Tags/Warnings: childhood best friends, friends to lovers, skinny dipping, getting together, mutual pining, love confessions Summary: “You ever been skinny dipping?” Dean asks, out of absolutely nowhere. He’s looking up at Cas, upside-down from where he’s hanging off of Cas’ bed, a black controler clasped loosely in his hands. They’ve been hanging out and playing video games in Cas’ childhood bedroom all day, trying to use the days they have left before they inevitably have to start the three-hour drive back to college together. They are roommates now, and still best friends, just like when they were seven years old and missing a few teeth. Cas is also, unfortunately, still as head over heels in love with Dean now, at the age of 23, as he was when Dean was still too small to sit in the Impala without a booster seat, still only sitting and watching as his uncle Bobby tinkered on cars, still loud and laughing unabashedly, still void of worries. Cas stumbles a little over the question. “Um — I. No, never. You?”

Out Of Bed | @saltnhalo

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4145 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Wizard Castiel (Supernatural), Wizard Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hufflepuff Dean Winchester, Gryffindor Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: On his way back from the Quidditch Pitch late one night, Dean Winchester finds himself adventuring the deserted corridors of Hogwarts with the Head Boy.

feathers and lightbulbs | @procasdeanating

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4371 Main Tags/Warnings: witch!Cas, incubus!Dean, sharing a bed, mutual pining Summary: A spell gone wrong forces Dean and Cas to keep in physical contact. Easier said than done, when one of them is a succubus and madly and secretly in love with his best friend.

The Fault of Flying | @thebloggerbloggerfun

Rating: General Word Count: 4478 Main Tags/Warnings: Reverse!Verse, Insomniac!Castiel, Angel!Dean Summary: Insomnia can make trying to fall asleep an incredibly frustrating endeavor, and for the human Castiel, it is. Luckily for him, his best friend is an angel with the ability to take him anywhere in the world when the nights get rough, and it makes everything more interesting! And more confusing.

Never Ever | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4494 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends to lovers, drinking games, alcohol, confessions Summary: Every other week, Charlie and Gilda and Row, Jo, Garth and Kevin, Benny, Chuck, Sam, Dean and Cas get together to get drunk — or, depending on preferences, high. They meet and get drunk and talk about life, most of the time. Sometimes, though, like today, they play drinking games. Today, it’s Never Have I Ever. It’s only a quarter past midnight, all of them are way past tipsy already, when Charlie giggles to herself and slurs: “Never ’ve I ever — ever slapped my partner’s ass durin’ sex.” A mixture of laughter and snorts wanders through their rows, and everyone raises their glasses. Everyone, even Garth — everyone except Cas. Everyone drinks, except Cas, and Dean just stares. He can feel the vodka dribbling down his chin while he drinks, and oggles his best friend some more. As soon as he swallowed and coughed his way through the burning liquor, he blurts: “Dude, seriously, never?” And that's how it begins.

Scent-Bonded | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4742 Main Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Best Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics Summary: When the alpha Cas is scent-bonded to leaves him, it’s on Dean to pick up the pieces. Since they’re scent-compatible, letting Cas scent him helps the omega feel less despaired. An easy solution—if only Dean wasn’t in love with and scent-bonded to Cas.

Be quiet | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4748 Main Tags/Warnings: 5+1 Things, Semi-Public Sex Summary: 5 Times where Castiel needs Dean to be quiet and one time, where he really wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Pen Pal | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: General Word Count: 5246 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Pen Pals, Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Summary: Hey, Cas, you wanna be my pen pal?” + (Dean is twelve years old when he asks Castiel to be his pen pal, not knowing that it will change his life completely.)

Not good enough? | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 6099 Main Tags/Warnings: hurt!Dean, crying!Dean Summary: When Dean finds a list in Cas’ room, where Cas has written down everything he hates about him, Dean tries to become a brand new person. But Castiel seems to hate that as well.

making the most of the night | @pomegranatedaffodil

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6819 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Birthdays, Fluff and Smut Summary: Dean isn't exactly looking forward to his thirtieth birthday, but at least the party he has planned to mark its passing will be pretty great. Or so he thinks, until a massive snowstorm causes a power outage on the afternoon of the party. One by one, the guests make their excuses for not being able to attend-- all except for Cas, who Dean can't seem to get a hold of. And then there's a knock on his door.

Cuddle Buddies | @Destielshipper4Cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10056 Main Tags/Warnings: Roommates, Mutual Pining, Couch Cuddles, Idiots in Love, Alpha Dean, Omega Castiel, Massage, Barebacking Summary: Cas just wants some alpha cuddles, but alphas generally aren’t all that interested in cuddling. Luckily, he has an awesome roommate who steps up to the plate.

Kilig | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: General Word Count: 10397 Main Tags/Warnings: friends to lovers, 5+1 things, secret admirer Summary: Five times Castiel didn't know his secret admirer and the one time he did.

Took Me Long Enough | @confusedcasishere

Rating: Mature Word Count: 15579 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Openly Gay Castiel, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Top Castiel, High School AU, Eventual Smut, Dean Winchester Has A Crush on Castiel Summary: Alright, so you know how in movies the friendzoned BFF always gets the girl in the end? Well what if the girl is a dude and you’re also a dude? Do the same rules apply? Or will this clusterfuck end with me losing my best friend?

Unexpectedly You | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 30239 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, season 8 canon divergent, mutual pining, winged Castiel, Sammy knows, explicit sexual content, Aruiel (OC) Sam/Aruiel (OC), first kiss, love confession. Summary: Cas is back in the bunker after being absent for a couple of weeks, although for Dean were like centuries. So this time he will train Castiel as a hunter, not because he missed him a lot and he wanted him to stay with him at all. Just because they are good friends. But something will ruin his plans, a new danger and an old enemy of Castiel will resurge. Ancient enochian spells and a big secret will be revealed while the hunter will try to figure out his feelings for the angel. Helped by Sammy's insightful mind and a new angel ally, our friends will have to save the world one more time.

Lucky Winner | @natmoose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31719 Main Tags/Warnings: General Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Friends to Lovers Warnings: Anxiety Attacks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Non-Penetrative Sex Summary: Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with. But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Because This Moment Simply Is | @ilovelucey

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32045 Main Tags/Warnings: Highschool/College AU; Neighbor AU; Best friends to lovers; Bottom!Dean/Top!Cas Summary: Dean and Cas have been next-door neighbors and best friends since they were both four years old. They've been through everything together. Cas was there for Dean when his mother died, and his father started going off the rails. Dean was there for Cas while he came to terms with his sexuality and came out to his religious family. Now they’re both eighteen and Cas is secretly, hopelessly in love with Dean. After years of ignoring his burgeoning feelings, Cas finds the courage to come clean just before he moves across the country to attend college in California. Determined, Cas pours his feelings out into a letter and leaves it for Dean to find. It isn't until eight years later that Dean finally receives the letter, and that single sheet of yellowed notebook paper turns his entire world upside down.

Where the Road Leads? (WIP) | lightmyway (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 141598 Main Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/comfort, angst, Photojournalist Cas, Legal Guardian Dean Summary: Castiel took off on his motorcycle at eighteen, ready to let the road take him where it wanted. That plan changed when he met Mary Winchester at a protest rally and shell learned the power of the camera around his neck. He never expected he would move in with her two boys and step back from his up and coming career. Dean never expected to be a parent at the age of eighteen. He also never expected that Cas would dedicate himself to being there for both Winchester boys. Dean, also, never expected that Cas would return to the career he left behind and fly off to some of the most dangerous places in the world. He certainly never thought it would be because of something he let happen. Will he be able to bring Cas home?

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Any fics in cannon where Sherlock is on drugs? (ie not a rehabAU or something no hate against those tho!)

Hi Nonny!

Ahhh, I do actually have some fics where drugs are either a part of the story OR referenced in the past-tense. This is a part 2 to an old list and I hope that it is alright

As always, gang, feel free to add your own fics

DRUGS or DRUGGING Pt. 2

See also: Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Experiment by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 4,222 w., 3 Ch. || Non-Con Drugging, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship) – Of course John has always known about his flatmate’s irregular sleeping habits, especially when they’re on a case. This time, however, the case is taking longer and longer, and soon John starts to worry. But there’s not much he can do, is there? Because drugging Sherlock isn’t an option. Not yet, maybe, but will it be soon? {{CW: John drugs Sherlock without his consent}}

Angel by MrsNoggin (T, 1,513 w., 1 Ch. || Winglock, Friendship, Chromoesthesia, Drugging) – John is an angel. That can be the only explanation. A response to the challenging request for a realistic wingfic one-shot.

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres.The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Mystrade & Johnlock, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Additional Tags to be Added) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

[olivianeesan]

Good Choices [Good Omens]

TITLE: Good Choices LENGTH: 2,998 words RATING: G SUMMARY: To answer a long-standing and important question: yes, God is omniscient-- most religions have got that bit right, more or less. There is, of course, a catch: She hasn't always been omniscient.

Crowley and Aziraphale and a lesson for us all. Written as I was speculating about the various themes of the book. Can be ship or not as reader prefers; canon compliant but primarily TV series-inspired (specifically ep3). Not subtle at all. Haven't written a fic in years but Good Omens is deliriously inspiring.

=============================================================

To answer a long-standing and important question: yes, God is omniscient— most religions have got that bit right, more or less. There is, of course, a catch: She hasn't always been omniscient.

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Eastern Gate, Garden of Eden, 4004 BC

The first thunder booms; a demon instinctively leans into an angel, who extends a protective wing. They stand together, side by side for the first time, and watch humans begin their great journey, unaware that they stand on the precipice of their own.

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In the Time Before There Was Time, She lacked just one key learning, one vital piece of information, which in fairness left Her still pretty brilliant as all-encompassing deities go.

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Noah's Ark, Mesopotamia, 3004 BC

Left to his own devices, as he usually is, Crawley rationalizes. His interest in his angelic counterpart on Earth can easily be explained by two facts:

One, the existence of a fallen angel consists of nothing so much as being outside of God's love. But there's a warmth in Aziraphale's presence that Crawley feels is vaguely reminiscent of that divine passion; it's only natural he should be drawn to it. On some level he can even find his way to thinking that he's found a clever loophole, exploited a bug in the system.

Two, no one else lives very long anyway.*

[* And this was during the era of Methuselah, who was in fact 313 years old around this time.]

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Oh, God knew the Fundamental Truth of Life well enough, and She knew if there was to be a universe— and She knew there was —She knew she had to build it around this truth.

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Crucifixion of Jesus, Golgotha, 33 AD

Left to his own devices, as he usually is, Aziraphale rationalizes. He hoped he'd never have to admit it to anyone else, but this Crawley— now Crowley —speaks plainly the same doubts that Aziraphale hides deep in the most secret pockets of his metaphorical heart. Every act of hatred the angel witnesses chips away, just a bit, at Aziraphale's confidence in the Great Plan, and it is some small comfort, hearing another immortal express his own secret feelings.

Besides which, Aziraphale thought it was short-sighted and perhaps even rude to disregard the death of God's only son on Earth, and Crowley was the only other non-human with the decency to show up, demon or not.*

[* They were also both present at the birth, though each was too caught up by the pleasure-or-pain of the event's massive holiness to notice the other at the time, rendering this fact completely immaterial to you, the reader. But it is nonetheless true.]

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The Fundamental Truth of Life, She knew, is love.

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Titus' Tavern, Rome, 41 AD

The ease with which they begin to slip into camaraderie makes them both uneasy, ironically, though only Crowley tries to hide it with his usual insouciance. Having finished their drink at the tavern and allowed the alcohol to carry out its pleasantly relaxing effects, the pair make their way to Petronius' restaurant and do, in fact, try out the oysters, along with several more rounds of drinks.

It is the first time in four thousand years on Earth that the pair loosen up enough to really talk, and not just about work— which of course they do discuss, as members of the same industry as it were —but mostly sharing stories of their interactions with humans and bonding over the other species' propensity for trouble.*

When Crowley proposes a toast "to the first supper," Aziraphale quips a hope that it "won't be the last supper," and Crowley bursts into a fit of intoxicating laughter, throwing his head back and with such open delight that it quashes any shame Aziraphale might have felt about the not-all-THAT-blasphemous joke.**

It is not their last supper.

[* These are the sorts of stories that don't make their way into histories or epics; like the time Aziraphale got caught in a compromising position with a drunk monk who wanted to wrestle, or when Crowley inadvertently inspired the placement of series of enormous stones in a field of what would one day be England which caused much trouble then and ever since, or the time they both scurried around Hammurabi's palace influencing his new system of Law, each completely unaware of the other until the laws had already been formally codified.

And that's how you get such a brilliant idea as telling people what is expected of them but also ongoing stupidity about treating people differently based on their gender or wealth, which to be fair has never not been a problem for these ridiculous humans, Aziraphale and Crowley agree.]

[** Aziraphale almost invents a joke 1,950 years too early by following up with "Too soon?" but wisely refrains.]

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So She created beings whose fundamental core is love: angels, in several different varieties because just one would be dull and She's going to have them for all eternity.

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A Battlefield, Kingdom of Wessex, 537 AD

For six hundred years they've enjoyed meeting socially often but haphazardly, but it is on a battlefield that Crowley first has an Idea that eventually becomes an Arrangement.

He thinks the inspiration comes to him of necessity, because the armor is pinching him in the armpit, the chain mail is heavy, he's utterly stifled wearing all that in the damp air of Wessex, and to top it all off all his efforts are just being countered by his heavenly adversary.

But in fact, some part of him that he doesn't acknowledge just wants to meet Aziraphale more regularly, and if they start to share duties, well, they'd have to meet more regularly, wouldn't they?

He is disappointed but not surprised when Aziraphale rejects his offer out of hand, he knows the angel will take some convincing, and besides, silver armor must not get as hot as black armor.

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But it became clear rather quickly— after the equivalent of a hundred million Earth years, roughly —that these creatures, lovely as they were, rather missed the point.

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The Globe Theatre, London, 1601 AD

"Yeah, all right. I'll do that one. My treat."

It's not the first time Crowley has done something nice for Aziraphale*, but it might be the first time Aziraphale had thought to hope, or even expect, for him to do so. Who would have guessed that "puppy eyes" could be effective on a demon?

For Crowley, though, it was definitely a bartered exchange; not for the puppy eyes, but for the frisson of pleasure he had felt when Aziraphale expressed concern for Crowley should their arrangement be discovered. No one else ever bothered being concerned for him.

Though he couldn't help but wonder...

[* The very first time that Crowley did something nice for Aziraphale— intentionally —was in fact shortly after the humans were expelled from the Garden, but what it was, he has never told anyone, even Aziraphale himself, leaving us unable to share it with you, dear reader. But we are given to understand that this secret act of kindness was both "epic" and "badass".]

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It was at this point that God had Her own Epiphany, becoming well and truly omniscient. Then Her work really began.

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The Bastille, Paris, 1793 AD

Aziraphale was not, by nature, a suspicious person, but when Crowley came to his rescue at the Bastille he wondered whether there was more going on than he knew.

There absolutely was, but not in the way Aziraphale imagines.**

It had taken Aziraphale over 5,000 years to consider the idea that Crowley might be a bad influence on him on purpose rather than on accident— that perhaps he was running a "long con" in an effort to drag another angel to Hell, though there had been no more Falling since God made the Earth.

On the other hand, maybe the demon just didn't want to lose someone who covered for him at work.

It was neither of these things, of course; it simply never occurred to Crowley not to help his one and only friend out of a jam when he could.

Just as well; if it had occurred to him Crowley would have had to admit that he was rubbish as a demon, really.

[* To be fair, there being more going on than he knew about is a normal state of affairs for Aziraphale. Not that the angel is stupid; in fact, he's quite smart when he puts his mind to it. He just gets so distracted.]

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She created the universe, putting Her loving angels to work crafting galaxies and animals and magic (an iffy idea) and physics (a worse one) while She Herself put the finishing touches on humanity.

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St. James' Park, London, 1862 AD

"Out of the question." Aziraphale's clipped tones cuts Crowley to the quick. Wasn't Aziraphale himself the one who had brought up the possibility of getting caught a couple of centuries ago? And aren't they friends? What's a little holy water between friends?

If giving pain were a sport, Aziraphale might have won some kind of award for this particular act, because in addition to Crowley's hurt there is the angel's own. Here it is, he thinks, exactly as he dreaded: Crowley has been buttering him up for this, none of his previous kindness towards Aziraphale was real, the demon probably didn't even really like him, probably thinks he's a big fat joke and laughs about him in secret.*

The pair parts on the worst terms they'd been on for ages, or perhaps ever. Crowley elects to spend the rest of the century sleeping, which doesn't help his relationship with the home office one bit.

[* Aziraphale agonizes over this failed interaction for decades**, eventually realizing that it's not like Crowley could have some truly nefarious purpose for the holy water— it can't be used against angels or humans. And furthermore, that nearly 6,000 years is a long time to set up a scheme and Crowley doesn't really do that kind of slow roll, moves too fast if anything. It's quite wrong of him to assume the worst of Crowley just because he's a demon, especially when said demon has honestly given him no cause for that kind of doubt. And in any case...and so on and so on. In short, the angel talks himself out of his fit of self-doubt.]

[** Crowley just sleeps through all the agonizing.]

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Then she gave it all a gentle push.

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St. Luke's Church, London, 1941 AD

Oh.

Aziraphale holds the hefty satchel full of books aloft and stares after Crowley. It feels like a lightbulb has turned on inside his head, and it won't be turned back off no matter how many times he pulls at the metaphorical string.

He'd missed Crowley.

He'd missed the demon's humor and style and random acts of kindness. Or not so random, since they are often directed at Aziraphale himself. The angel knows an apology when he sees one, recognizes it implicit in Crowley's appearance at the church, is deeply touched that Crowley went through all that physical and spiritual discomfort to save Aziraphale's stupid face.

But the books...the books aren't apology. They are gift. They are thoughtful, in the very literal sense that Crowley had spent what could have been his last moment before a painful discorporation thinking about what Aziraphale cared about and going to extra trouble making it happen.

Oh, thinks Aziraphale.

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Most humans understand that their species is taking a crash course to learn to choose Good of their own free will, whether they believe it to be divine ordinance or simple moral imperative.

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A Bentley outside the Drinking Donkey Pub, 1967 AD

Crowley knows an apology when he sees one, and the thermos he gingerly takes from Aziraphale is certainly that. It's the trust that really gets him, though. Aziraphale isn't just giving him a deadly weapon, he's saying as blatantly as if he'd written the words on a poster board and hung it in the window of his stupid bookshop: I TRUST YOU, CROWLEY.

An angel, trusting a demon?

Must be a sign of the apocalypse.

He's not surprised when the angel rejects his offer of a ride, but he is surprised that it still stings, even breaking through the rush of warmth Crowley feels at Aziraphale's gesture with the holy water. The pain ebbs slightly as Aziraphale offers consolation in the form of a picnic, or perhaps in dining at the Ritz. (The Ritz? he wonders. Why The Ritz?)

It isn't until many years later that he hears a cover of a cover of a cover of a romantic old jazz standard and thinks: Oh.*

[* "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" was written and performed in 1939, then performed again and again for almost the entire rest of forever. The version Crowley first hears used on a science fiction TV programme in 2007— one year before the birth of the Anti-Christ —is heavily inspired by the Frank Sinatra, Glenn Miller, and of course Vera Lynn versions of the song, all of which the demon consumes non-stop for nearly a week.]

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No humans, and very few non-humans, know that the angel species is auditing the same course.

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A.Z. Fell Booksellers, London, 2019 AD

"Don't dawdle," booms Metatron, the Voice of God, and Aziraphale doesn't.

He's made a decision, and has made it so swiftly and instinctively that he hardly realizes it yet, let alone understands the importance of it.

If God and/or the angelic host won't hear him out, there's only one being in the entire universe that he knows will, and he wishes he'd trusted Crowley with this from the start and saved them all a lot of time, but he didn't, and now he has to hurry.

Aziraphale dials a number he knows by heart.

"Hey."

"Hello. I know where the Anti—"

"This is Anthony Crowley."

"I know who you are, you idiot, I telephoned you! Listen—"

"You know what to do. Do it with style."

Voicemail. Lord, he hoped Crowley wasn't already on his way to Alpha Centauri.

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Most angels— or former angels —would never even consider this possibility. In fact, exactly two angels have ever suspected that God slipped them a dose of free will, perhaps eons ago.

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The Enterprise Pub, London, 2019 AD

"TADFIELD. Air base!"

"I heard that, it was the 'wiggle on'..." but Aziraphale's ghostly presence was gone.

Crowley had said he wasn't going to go there, had even considered whether the vision was some hellish trick, until the "wiggle on".

But really, he knew he'd been lying, knew he'd go wherever Aziraphale said to, as long as the angel promised to be there too, which he had.

You see, Crowley had made a decision too, though longer ago, perhaps at the bandstand the day before, or when he'd stopped at a phone booth to make a call in 2008, or when he'd heard a sappy love song a year before that, or maybe it was at the Globe Theatre in 1601 or the fields of Wessex in 537 or at the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden in four-thousand-fucking-four BC.

Like Aziraphale, he doesn't fully realize he'd made a decision, which is why he rather doesn't know when he'd made it.

Crowley gets in the Bentley and drives to Aziraphale, as fast as he can.

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Because the epiphany that God had all those eons ago, in the World Before There Was a World, was that love is a choice.

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A Bench at Berkeley Square, London, 2019 AD

"For my money, the really big one will be all of us against all of them."

"What? You mean heaven and hell against...humanity?"

Neither of them says it out loud; there are no gestures, no glances up or down or askew, but as they lock eyes they both feel the weight of the decision they've made, deep inside, to change their definition of "us".

And despite all the doubts and questions of their long lives, they both know that they've made the right choice.

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To answer a long-standing and important question: yes, God is omniscient— most religions have got that bit right, more or less. There is, of course, a catch: She hasn't always been omniscient.

In the Time Before There Was Time, She lacked just one key piece of information, which in fairness left Her still pretty brilliant as all-encompassing deities go.

Oh, God knew the Fundamental Truth of Life well enough, and She knew if there was to be a universe— and She knew there was —She knew she had to build it around this truth.

The Fundamental Truth of Life as she knew it, is love.

So She created beings whose fundamental core was love: angels, in several different flavors because one would be dull.

But it became clear rather quickly— after the equivalent of a hundred million Earth years, roughly —that these creatures, lovely as they were, rather missed the point.

It was at this point that God had Her own Epiphany, becoming truly omniscient. Then Her work really began.

She created the universe, putting Her loving angels to work crafting galaxies and animals and magic (likely a bad idea) and physics (definitely a bad idea) while She Herself put the finishing touches on humanity.

Then she gave it all a gentle push.

Most humans understand that humans as a species are taking a crash course to learn to choose Good of their own free will, whether they believe it to be the command of a deity or pantheon, or a simple moral imperative.

No humans, and very few non-humans, know that the angel species is auditing the same course.

Most angels would never even consider this possibility; exactly two— or rather, one angel and one fallen angel —have begun to even suspect that God secretly slipped them free will absolute eons ago.

Because the epiphany that God had all those eons ago, in the World Before There Was a World, was that love is a choice.

=============================================================

As noted in the summary, I've been mulling over Good Omens-- the book and the show, both of which have been re-read/re-watched --the differences between the two, the themes, the lessons, all that good stuff, and somehow this fic was born. I wrote the "God"/in-between bits first, in their entirety, with the vague idea that if I were the one to write a Good Omens sequel they would exist between its chapters.

I'm NOT the one to write a sequel though. But when I realized I had 13 paragraphs it felt like I needed to do something with it, so I decided to run through Crowley and Aziraphale's history. I think I've got the timeline and locations all correct (thank god for the script book!), except the tavern in Rome which I made up a name for, but bear with me if I missed anything. ;)

I wasn't sure I was going to post it, even though I set up an account to, but having heard about the devastating and deadly arson committed against anime studio Kyoto Animation in Tokyo, I thought it was important to get a little more love out into the world. I hope you enjoyed the fic, but even if you didn't, let's all try to love each other more.

[mal-likes-biscuits]

More Diablo Character Head-Cannons

[Continued from here, so I don’t hijack the poof.]

I have pretty detailed head-cannons for most of the characters, including their personal habits. Some of the material makes it into stories when it’s relevant, whereas most of it doesn’t. But after talking with @fishyfiash about Inarius’ hair poof, I wanted to share some of the more relatable ones. Mostly about Malthael. And a few others.

Content after the break, because this is loooooong.

Malthael Discovers the Mortal Pool(s) of Wisdom

I have two Tales from Tristram chapters that I never posted, mostly because they were a bit too disjointed and they didn’t entirely fit into the series-cannon I was developing. The first one, though, went into details about when Malthael first moves in with Tyrael, and how they adjust to that. The Nephalem in town don’t find out right away because Tyrael bans him from going outside until he can figure out exactly what to do with him.

This goes marginally well until Malthael discovers that Tyrael has a bathtub. Up until this point, he’s been bathing in rivers, ponds, etc. because he’d mostly been living outside. He takes care of himself, but you know, Sanctuary isn’t exactly known for working plumbing. But some of the wealthier residents of Tristram do have a proper claw-foot tub, including Tyrael.

And, well…you probably should just read the best part of that canned-chapter excerpt:

However, the one habit Tyrael absolutely could not abide was Malthael’s obsession with the bath. He did not understand how a man who seemed to care so little about his physical appearance could waste endless hours soaking. He was not entirely sure Malthael even washed while in the tub, for he continually looked as though he had spent several days rolling about in the woods. He suspected his brother spent most of his time floating and staring at the rafters, perhaps trying to reclaim some sort of communion with nature in place of his previous use of the Pools.

What it meant was the bath water needed to be changed often. And since only Tyrael could leave the house, he spent a gratuitous amount of time heaving buckets from the town well back to his home. After which he would go to use the bath himself, often to find it occupied again. Try as he did, there was no dislodging Malthael from the room once he entered. He locked the door and responded to Tyrael’s annoyed pounding with terse apologies or, sometimes, simply, “Busy.”

Thus, it was not through any sort of redemptive behaviour or earned trust that Malthael gained himself permission to walk about Tristram. It was because Tyrael was tired of doing chores for two adults, and he knew that Malthael was damn well capable of caring for himself if given the opportunity to do so. It was not his responsibility to ensure his brother was fed or watered, and he could carry his own bath water.

This probably isn’t a surprise, given Malthael’s habits when he was immortal. There’s canon descriptions of him being elusive, quiet, and spending a great deal of time just staring into the Chalice. He loses some of that, plus his access to the Pools, when he becomes mortal. And though there isn’t actually any indication of what you do with the Pools, I’ve assumed the experience of looking into them (and the Chalice, by extension) is pretty similar to being in a sensory-pond and just…floating.

Which is what he discovers as soon as he gets over his initial “wtf is this giant bucket of water” reaction. The tub is one of the few places he can block out external noise. I imagine he soaks with only his nose and eyes sticking out, and just lies there and lets everything else go away. I would also imagine that if you really wanted to try and “woo” him, your best bet would be to present him with an already-prepared hot bath. Possibly with some oils or potpourri thrown in. Nothing too flowery, though. Something earthy, or spicy.

I’ve alluded to his preference for bathing before in a previous cannon-short. Unfortunately, as much as I love it, it’s never made it into a story proper, even if I consider it a critical part of his early-series character.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Ya’ll thought you were going to get through this post without a pun, didn’t you? Pfffft no.

In terms of mortal angels, I would assume their hair closely reflects the head-covering they use in their immortal form. Tyrael, for example, has a tight-fitting hood, which becomes his very bald (shaved?) head later. For this reason, Malthael has long hair, because his cowl has damn long ribbons on it.

The guy has a love-hate relationship with his hair. He would never, ever cut it short, because he likes being able to hide his face behind it. It’s comforting to him, the same way he likes the feel of it cascading over his shoulders. It’s a fundamental part of his body-image.

But, of course, long hair has its disadvantages. It tangles, for one, especially if it’s too long. It’s harder to wash. (Regardless of how much time he spends soaking in the bathtub, it’s not time he spends washing his hair.) It flies in your face when you’re trying to swing your swords.

Which means that there is an optimal length for his hair. This is approximately around or just past his shoulders. Long enough to cover his face, but short enough he’s not at risk of getting it caught in his weapons. Or his armor. And it tucks into a hood well enough. And he doesn’t have to spend hours trying to maintain it at a waste of his precious time. Don’t even suggest that he tie it up, because that completely ruins the cowl effect.

So far, so good. Until winter hits, and it gets cold. And it snows. Tristram is a fairly temperate climate, from what I can tell. It wouldn’t get too hot in the summer, and I assume it would snow in dumps in the winter. Anyone with long or curly hair knows that humidity of any kind is…bad.

The very precise drapes of hair that he carefully maintains develop their own internal gravity. They become frizzy. They stick out at weird angles. And no matter how much time he spends trying to keep his hair out of his eyes, it always ends up back in them.

Malthael, of course, refuses to do the simple thing, which would be to cut his hair in the winter. Instead, he packs up his bag and goes someplace warm. If you’ve (for whatever reason) been tracking his travels in the series, he always disappears for long stints over the winter months. There are multiple reasons for this, including that he legitimately dislikes being in the cold for too long, because, you know: death. Also, he’s no idiot, and he’s figured out that people always seem to get ill when it starts to snow.

But, going someplace warm and dry also conveniently puts his hair back where it should be. Mostly.

Malthael’s OCD hasn’t gone anywhere since he became mortal. If anything, he now has more things to become OCD about.

When your BFF Knows Hair Better Than You

Farah and Malthael talk quite a bit, whether it’s through letters or, eventually, in person. We’ve seen a bit of what they chat about, but it also extends to occasionally more mundane topics. Including hair.

Both Farah and Aya are blessed (or cursed, they might say) with extremely thick hair. And since they both wear theirs long, they’ve learned all kinds of ways of keeping it up out of the way, and also of keeping it healthy. Aya is a lot flashier with her hairstyles, but Farah is practiced in all sorts of braids, buns, you name it. You can’t carry books around if your hair is always falling in your face.

She notices early on that Malthael doesn’t do anything with his hair. Of course, she also doesn’t say anything, because she knows he’s particular about his looks. They have to be just so. But eventually, one night, they’re sitting and talking in front of the library fire, while listening to a torrential downpour that’s been going on outside all day.

And he keeps trying to blow hair from his face. Repeatedly. He’s clearly annoyed. And Farah has had enough of their conversation being interrupted with “pfffffft” every twenty seconds that she has to say something.

This is how Malthael learns about proper hair care. I mean, Tyrael isn’t any help. He doesn’t have any. But Farah certainly does. And she’s familiar with hair oils, and all the things you need if you have thick, long hair and you live in a desert oasis.

She never does convince him to let her braid his hair, or anything of the sort. But he does end up with substantially less frizz when it gets rainy outside. And he becomes quite the expert at braiding her hair if she asks. Because, fair is fair, and if she wants to do something weird like that with hers, then he isn’t about to judge.

Coffee is the Drink of the Gods…

The other Tristram short that was canned, which I might post eventually just as a joke-fic, had to do with Aya bringing Farah a coffee set from Caldeum, and Malthael absconding with it because Farah absolutely can’t stand the taste or smell of it. The fic was canned because it was just too tongue in cheek and because I didn’t like working coffee into the story that much, though they would likely have some sort of equivalent there.

But yes, for anyone who is wondering: Malthael does drink coffee sometimes. He prefers tea because it keeps him awake without absolutely wiring him. But sometimes, you’re working late, and you just really want to finish something, and the only thing that will help with that is a good, dark cup-o-joe.

Tyrael hates when Malthael drinks coffee, because it makes him jittery, and he also starts. Talking. Incessantly. Coffee removes his mental filter almost as much as alcohol does, at least in terms of conversation. And it also makes his conversations even harder to follow, because his brain is jumping around at several times the speed of its already remarkably fast pace. Any conversation with him while he’s had coffee is just a relentless string of non-sequiturs that make perfect sense to Malthael and no sense to anyone else.

…Unless You’re Tyrael, and then the Drink of the Gods is Alcohol

Tyrael is one of those work-hard, play-hard kind of guys. In a completely respectful, kind-hearted way. But, in short, his favorite thing to do after a long, stressful day of work is to get hammered and sing raucous drinking songs until the wee hours of the morning. He makes no apologies about it. He likes being mortal at this point. He likes all the emotional, giddy, messy parts of being mortal. He likes dreaming, he likes eating, he likes drinking, he likes banging.

If you think Malthael hates when Tyrael comes home four sheets to the wind and proceeds to slam around cupboards and doors and everything while Malthael is trying to read quietly, then yeah. You’d be right. (They’re brothers with completely different personalities, they find all sorts of ways to piss each other off.)

Most of the time, they co-habitate fine, because Malthael is often not home, or not even in Tristram. But he’s been subjected enough to Tyrael’s boisterous, happy-drunk-mode to know that it’s best to just nod, fake a smile, and let his brother talk until he passes out. Hopefully on a chair, because Tyrael is a LOT bigger than Malthael, and regardless of physical fitness, Malthael has a 21 in dexterity and a 12 in strength, and he’s not lifting his bro into bed. No way.

Now, Tyrael must drink a lot to get to that point. Which is why he’s at the tavern all night.

Malthael does not drink. Well, he shouldn’t drink. He’s a cheap date. One beer, and he’s getting a bit chatty. Two, and his filter is gone. Three, and he’s probably hanging off your shoulder and either arguing about some completely esoteric philosophical principle, or he’s laughing about the shape of the tree leaves.

Lyndon vastly prefers Tyrael drinking to Malthael, because Tyrael is fun. Malthael isn’t exactly aggressive, but he can get kind of argumentative, especially if you prove him wrong about something. Which is not hard to do when he’s drunk. You only think you’re wise when you’re drinking.

Which Takes us to How They Know This (Also Known as, the Time Malthael Drank Mead)

The story of Talm’s wedding has been referenced a few times, mostly in the Tristram stories, but it never really gets expanded on beyond that lots of mead is imbued. The real truth is that when Malthael tells them he doesn’t drink, he’s never tried until that point. All he knows is it makes mortals act stupid. You don’t need it to survive. So, why bother? (Biscuits are superior.)

But, sometimes he succumbs to peer pressure. He’s happy for Talm, and he’s feeling pretty content, and they really want him to have fun. He’s only going to sit with them to talk. That’s it.

Except, research. Hey Malthael, how do you know what alcohol is like if you don’t try it? How can you even appreciate how it affects other mortals if you haven’t even experienced it a little bit? He’s watched random people drink enough to assume you have to drink a lot for anything to really happen.

Oh. Poor guy. They have mead. It’s probably a good 15% at least. And he is the world’s. Cheapest. Drunk.

So now, they’re stuck with him at their table, and he really just wants to talk about stuff. He has a lot to get off his chest. He’s only been mortal for a year, and really doesn’t understand social conventions yet, and all of these emotions he’s been bottling up this whole time want to get out. All at the same time.

They’re relieved the farmers have no idea what Malthael is talking about, because he’s blathering on about cups filled with light, this incessant noise that still follows him around everywhere, and how he doesn’t get why this all makes so much more sense now when he’s stupider compared to when he was taller and brilliant.

Lyndon isn’t nearly hammered enough to be listening to all of this. He’s still skeptical that they didn’t just stab Malthael in Salvos and be done with it. But he’s also kind of…amused. Because this is the guy they spent days tracking down in Westmarch. Whose deep, terrifying voice was blathering on through the Soulstone about Murder and Souls and Deeeeeeeeath.

And now he’s in an argument with Jerem’s cousin about the proper way to season biscuits.

This is clearly not the same person. Or, at least, he’s a mortal, healthier version of the angel they happened to stab many, many times through the chest. Healthy is relative, Lyndon guesses. If it doesn’t include being really intoxicated. And from what he can tell, Malthael is still an impatient, sarcastic know-it-all. He’s just shorter and eats things now.

The whole party really jumps the shark after Talm and Lena disappear for the night, and the relatives get rowdy. Someone starts up a little sparring competition with practice sticks. Tyrael, of course, jumps right in, because holy shit, drinking and physical activity? He’s all for that. The farm hands put up a very good fight, but he eventually comes out on top.

But, you know, drunks can be drunks, and someone starts razzing the little skinny guy to go and challenge his brother. Hey, are you really brothers, even? You don’t even look the same. But, whatever. No can do, says Malthael, he’s not getting involved with that. At least, until someone calls him a coward.

And then he gets mad.

Oh Hells, Lyndon thinks. But also, Hells yes, because this is going to be hilarious. It is, for most of it. Neither Tyrael or Malthael is sober enough to swing the sticks properly. It ends up being a great show of them stumbling around and taunting each other. Too much taunting, probably. It gets personal. It’s good for them, right? They still have a lot to talk out.

Tyrael isn’t the best at talking at this point. He takes all his immense frustration at his stupid brother, puts it in his fist, and punches Malthael in the face.

Which is how the party ends.

Jerem watches the whole thing perfectly sober, because he’s the responsible host, and he’s really confused at who the hell these two actually are who have spent the night arguing about angels, and demons, and related things like they exist. Now one of them has a bloody nose, and the other is apologizing profusely, and there’s a lot of adult tears happening about betrayal, and bad decisions, and Jerem figures neither of them is going to remember any of this in the morning.

But, brothers are brothers, everyone has troubles, and he’s not going to get involved, other than to get some ice from the cellar, and a few rags to mop up the blood.

Malthael wakes up on the floor of the barn, covered in hay, spilled mead, and pastry crumbs, and decides he’s died again because his head hurts so bad. He also decides that drinking is the dumbest thing in the world, and he’s never going to do it again.

Probably.

But that’s a story for a different time that you’ll actually get to read.