#they have the antichrist working his magic in the back office!!

[alphacrone]

I s2g chick-fil-a has a team of in-house witches secretly controlling the populace because that shit tastes like soggy microwaved rubber and I refuse to believe y’all have never tasted good chicken before in your lives

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Queer Book Recommendations!!

I haven't really read a book book in years. Due to money problems and a lack of free time, audiobooks and AO3 were a MUCH cheaper option for me. But now that I'm struggling to fully read text posts on Tumblr I realize my attention span is shot. Reading novels is helping me tune out and focus in again. So I'm turning to queer novels written by my 'queer elders'.

For anyone who is struggling to get back into long form content after reading Fic for years, I highly recommend the books of TJ KLUNE (summaries of what I've read under the break).

If you are a fan of the 'escaping a shitty life and being welcomed into a found family' fanworks, this is the writer for you! All his stories center on home and feeling welcomed and loved. Of middle age and finding out who you are. Of finding love for others and yourself. He makes you hunger for that type of romantic and platonic love where people just know the real you. His stories also float by so quickly, there are so many things he does that I want to emulate his writing into my work.

Someone on Tumblr described the romances as: “what if a real life disney prince fell in love with the human equivalent of a wet paper bag?” and I agree 100%. All his protagonists are just like that, and I love them all.

(Also, this man definitely had an office job he hated, and writes office work culture as a death sentence in every one of his novels and I love it).

If you have any queer novels you love, don't be afraid to leave me a recommendation! (Especially WLW that isn't 'One Last Stop')

HAVE READ: The House in the Cerulean Sea : [An amazing love fantastical found family story (with a hint of romance)! I listened to the audiobook on Audible and absolutely loved it! I can't wait for the sequel coming out next year.]

Linus Baker is a lonely case worker for a governmental organization which manages orphaned kids who are magical beings.

One day, he's given a secret assignment to assess a special orphanage on the island of Marsyas, run by a man named Arthur Parnassus, who has secrets of his own. Among the six unique children living there, one of them is Lucy, short for Lucifer, who just happens to be the Antichrist.

Despite his initial reservations, as Linus's days pass in Marsyas, in this idyllic setting among a coterie of magical children, Linus finds himself coming across a little romance, an unlikely family and possibly even a home.

Currently Reading: Under the Whispering Door. [I know this is going to be heartbreaking, but I'm loving it, only on page 50/373. Will likely post something vague about how it made me cry lol]

When a reaper comes to collect Wallace Price from his own funeral, Wallace suspects he really might be dead.

Instead of leading him directly to the afterlife, the reaper takes him to a small village. On the outskirts, off the path through the woods, tucked between mountains, is a particular tea shop, run by a man named Hugo. Hugo is the tea shop's owner to locals and the ferryman to souls who need to cross over.

But Wallace isn't ready to abandon the life he barely lived. With Hugo's help, he finally starts to learn about all the things he missed in life.

When the Manager, a curious and powerful being, arrives at the tea shop and gives Wallace one week to cross over, Wallace sets about living a lifetime in seven days.

Planning on reading: In The Lives of Puppets(The book is on my shelf).

In a strange little home built into the branches of a grove of trees, live three robots—fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, and a small vacuum desperate for love and attention. Victor Lawson, a human, lives there too. They’re a family, hidden and safe.

The day Vic salvages and repairs an unfamiliar android labelled “HAP,” he learns of a shared dark past between Hap and Gio–a past spent hunting humans.

When Hap unwittingly alerts robots from Gio’s former life to their whereabouts, the family is no longer hidden and safe. Gio is captured and taken back to his old laboratory in the City of Electric Dreams. So together, the rest of Vic’s assembled family must journey across an unforgiving and otherworldly country to rescue Gio from decommission, or worse, reprogramming.

Along the way to save Gio, amid conflicted feelings of betrayal and affection for Hap, Vic must decide for himself: Can he accept love with strings attached?

[humbledragon669]

Script to Screen comparison: Episode 2 – The Book P2 – deletions, additions and amendments

Standard Intro

Having followed the episodes through with the Script Book, I've tried to break the differences between the original script and the end result on screen into a couple of different categories:

Large changes (whole scenes/multiple lines of script). These are in part 1 of the write up for this episode.

Things that are in the original script but not in the finished episode (I'm calling these deletions).

Things that aren't in the original script but are in the finished episode (I'm calling these additions).

Things that have been changed (I'm calling these ones amendments).

Not all of the changes fit neatly into one category or the other (there are shades of grey...). The first three of the differences will be presented within bullet lists, with a description. The last of the categories will be presented in a table. I'll make comments about anything I find particularly notable after each category.

Deletions

Crowley is spotted (by Aziraphale) outside the bookshop during the visit from Gabriel and Sandalphon.

Aziraphale invites Sandalphon (by name) into the back office with Gabriel.

Aziraphale’s invitation to Gabriel to step into the back office is more polite by way of a “please”.

Gabriel is more enthusiastic about his “pornography” (“thank you so much”).

The TV presenter returns to the screen after Hastur and Ligur leave Crowley to his thoughts.

Crowley speaks an extra line after his tense conversation with Hastur and Ligur – “I didn’t fall”.

One of the participants of the peace treaty signing speaking about the praise he had for the treaty process.

War’s line reacting to the peace treaty process. Her reaction is changed here also – from a suppressed smile to an all-out giggle in the finished episode.

The peace treaty participant determined to sign first speaks in the future (not present) tense.

Queen track (“Crazy Little Thing Called Love”) playing during peace treaty scene.

Lesley’s additional description of how he managed to find the delivery location.

War signing her name on the delivery paperwork.

Buddy Holly song to introduce the credit sequence.

Maggs’s mention of a bone fire (for Agnes’s burning).

Magg’s line about children being cruel (about Adultery Pulsifer’s name).

Stage directions for introducing Agnes suggest there should have been more scene setting done around her cottage.

Close up of Agnes’s note to the milkman.

Anathema whining about having to study the prophecies and her mother offering her a cookie if she does it.

Anathema’s mother affectionately calling Anathema “sweet pea” and offering her better encouragement in her studies.

Newt telling his mother that he is putting the computer back together (showing he has clearly taken it to pieces in the first place).

Newt’s explanation of what work he has done to the computer.

Newt complaining, rightfully and sadly, that computers hate him.

Louisa (one of the office workers) taking attendance (electronically).

Mention and presence of three ladies from Financial Planning.

Newt introducing himself to Tompkins.

Immigration officer stamping Anathema’s passport.

Shadwell leaving the stand where he has been delivering his evangelical ravings after conceding that nobody is listening.

Shadwell’s repetition of the word “nipples” when quizzing Newt about how many he has.

Shadwell’s departure from his first meeting with Newt, complete with him smoking a rolled-up cigarette that he keeps behind his ear.

Anathema describing Tadfield as a postcard image.

A close-up of the tarot card of the Antichrist showing all of his other titles (Ye Adversarye, etc.).

A shot of Crowley misting the houseplants and talking to them.

Some sort of magic with the houseplants that shows them trying to make themselves look better to avoid Crowley’s disappointment.

Crowley’s exit to his office following his “pep talk” to the houseplants.

A shot of Shadwell’s front door in context with the building next door (a corner shop).

Part of Madame Tracy’s corporate spiel about her activities as a psychic, where she informs Newt that parties are welcome. She also enquires of him when he would like to indulge of these services.

A line from Madame Tracy about the effect of Newt’s imminent arrival of Shadwell – apparently it was going to make him very happy.

Newt’s cursory inspection of Shadwell’s flat.

Shadwell’s insistence that “it’s up to us” when challenged on the necessity of their involvement in stopping witches.

A handful of exclamatory sentences from Aziraphale where he talks to Crowley’s answerphone, seemingly in the knowledge that he is talking to a machine and not an actual person.

Aziraphale bringing shortbread housed in a tin decorated with a tartan pattern for the road trip to Tadfield.

Crowley removing his hands from the steering wheel to gesture at the pedestrian he nearly ran over.

A dollop of ice cream landing on Brian’s shirt.

An additional (and entirely unoriginal) flavour variation of ice cream from Brian.

Brian wiping his ice-cream covered face.

Anathema making notes on an iPad whilst in the woods.

Pepper’s definitive nod to indicate she has a plan in place for setting up Spanish Inquisition v2.

The suggestion that Crowley is following signs to Tadfield Manor when driving to Tadfield.

The clarification from Adam that he is the Chief Inquisitor of the British Inquisition.

A shot showing Wensleydale having a grand old time being pushed about on the swing torturing device.

Brian taking the witches hat from Wensleydale to wear it himself.

A shot of Anathema looking fondly at The Them as they play out their witch torturing game.

A close-up of the front cover of the brochure for Tadfield Manor.

A single line from Norman telling Louisa that he heard someone in the area as they walk past the prone figure of Nigel.

A sarcastic quip by Crowley about his giving real guns to the humans being an enabler for them to exercise their own free will as being “ineffable”.

A shot of the Bentley driving past a bunch of police cars, all with their lights flashing, completely unchallenged and unnoticed.

A close-up of the back wheel of Anathema’s bike “clicking ominously” after the accident.

Anathema telling her mother that she’s been in a car accident.

Anathema’s mother being seemingly unaware of what to call the thing that Anathema is looking for.

Anathema drinking from a cup of coffee as she talks to her mother.

A line from Anathema about needing to be able to think like “a seventeenth-century witch with a mind like a crossword puzzle” to work out where the Antichrist is.

Mrs. Young knocking on Adam’s door before barging in.

The distortion of Crowley’s sentences after Aziraphale has found Agnes’s book in the car.

God’s description of St John the Divine of Patmos as being “a nice chap, if a bit too fond of funny mushrooms”.

Aziraphale picking up the book in order to read it (instead of leaving it on the desk).

A close up shot of a pad of paper with all of Aziraphale’s notes about Agnes’s book on it.

No “Everyday” rendition leading us into the end credits.

As with episode 1, there are quite a few deletions, most of them tiny. I was very interested to see that Crowley was spotted (by Aziraphale) hanging around Soho during the time of Gabriel’s visit to the bookshop in the original script. I’m not sure why this would have been cut: it seems to me it would have been a great (and very simple) way of increasing the tension for this scene, whilst also planting the suggestion that Crowley is always around the bookshop, and that Aziraphale is always aware of his presence. Similarly, Crowley’s missing line that he “didn’t fall” would have offered us further insight into how he feels about this incredibly important life event (I know we hear this same sentiment later in the season with a bit more context, but there’s something about an outright denial that speaks volumes). There are a few bits on the list that would have given us a bit more character development for Shadwell too – his disappointment and general disparagement that his evangelical speech isn’t having the desired effect, the idea that he would be happy to have company, and the egotistical declaration that only the Witchfinder Army can get the job done. On the flip side, there are a few things on the list that I feel were rightly trimmed from the final episode – after all, what would be the point of a close-up shot of Agnes’s note to the milkman when we’ve already heard her read its contents?

Additions

Crowley picking up his phone and thinking better of it before he turns on the television in his flat.

Adultery Pulsifer calling after Agnes as she strides away from her cottage.

Newt’s box breaking, spilling all of its contents on the floor after he’s been fired.

Some additional lines from Shadwell to his evangelical speech that we hear as we fade in to see him on his plinth (“…undermine the moral fibre of the whole country. You all walk past them with your noses in the air…”).

The address and contact details for the Witchfinder Army in the advert.

A line from Madame Tracy referring to Newt’s luck that one of her regulars has had to cancel his appointment.

Newt’s inspection of Shadwell’s fridge (and subsequent reaction of the supposed stench emanating from it).

An additional line from Anathema about her search for the Antichrist (“You must be here somewhere”).

Crowley clicking his fingers as he changes all the paintball guns into real guns.

Norman actually getting shot.

Norman’s awakening from his “fake” death.

Aziraphale clarifying that he wants to know if Mary Hodges was a nun “at this convent”.

Mary Hodges quantification of the amount of records the nuns had.

A flashback of the convent fire and Crowley cursing Hastur for having caused it.

Aziraphale breaking Mary Hodge’s trance.

A shot of the Bentley actually driving away from Tadfield Manor.

A few extra words from Crowley showing how vehemently he is against giving Anathema a lift home.

A single word from Crowley when having the telephone conversation with Aziraphale that they’re looking for the missing Antichrist.

An extra couple of words (“can it”) from Aziraphale to show his disbelief that finding the Antichrist could be as easy as dialling a phone number.

3 extra shots at the very end of the episode:

Mr. Young looking baffled at the odd phone call he’s just had.

Adam playing with Dog in the garden.

Return to Aziraphale in shock.

There are some really beautiful and simple additions that have been made to this episode, and I feel like the end result is that we have a much richer episode for them. Crowley’s debate about making a phone call (which I am 100% sure would have been to Aziraphale) stands out as being a particularly rewarding addition, but every one of them feels like they’ve really fine-tuned the finished episode, largely contributing to character development. The addition of Norman “dying” really helps to convey the chaotic and cinematic nature of that whole sequence too.

Amendments

As with the deletions for this episode, most of these changes are tiny. Yet many of them have resulted in a fundamental shift or emphasis in the underlying subtext of the line or setting that they’re part of. Take Gabriel’s change of wording when he discusses the outsourcing of the calling of the Horsemen for instance. In the script, the action of outsourcing the being responsible for calling the Horsemen is neutral (i.e. it is outsourced). In the finished episode, he takes ownership of the action, on Heaven’s behalf (i.e. we outsource it). As another example, the switching around of the words “wisdom” and “witchcraft” in Anathema’s speech about her purpose in the UK. The originally scripted version would place the emphasis on the “witchcraft” element (it being first in the sentence), whilst the version on screen shifts that emphasis to the “wisdom” side of things. It’s a clever way of distracting the listener from the true, and generally more socially unacceptable, nature of her duties. Both of these examples (and quite a few of the others in the table) are really subtle changes but make a huge difference to the meaning of the words being said. They’re further examples of the incredible attention to detail that was put into the making of this show.

There’s a really simple change in the lines that the TV presenter delivers that intrigues me. It was originally scripted as if the TV was being turned on in the middle of a program. Pretty ordinary, right? What I find interesting is that the wording has changed onscreen to “Welcome back”. As if Crowley has managed to turn on the TV at the exact second that the program has returned from a commercial break. Not completely out of the question I know, it’s just the way it’s delivered makes me feel like the entire TV program being shown on Crowley’s TV is actually something there just for him, so that every time he turns the TV on, he’s always welcomed back. Silly I realise. Would be pretty cool though.

There’s a minor amendment to Mary Hodge’s interruption of the wall slam that really does spin that whole thing on its head. Her originally scripted line was hesitant, as if she wasn’t really sure about what she was interrupting. The version we see onscreen is much more definitive:

I said it in the episode write up, and I’ll say it again here. Mary Hodges is telling us exactly what was going on between this pair at that point in time, and it wasn’t just Crowley throwing his toys out the pram because somebody gave him a compliment. This is a brilliant example of something I find absolutely fascinating – the everlasting idea that words have power. A couple of little tweaks, and this simple sentence has changed from something polite and throwaway to something filled with subtext and knowledge. Love it.

There’s one more amendment I want to mention, and it’s the change from Aziraphale describing the way that love is “around” Tadfield to “over” Tadfield. The original statement makes it feel like the love encompasses the area, or is perhaps scattered disparately around the place. The version we get onscreen feels so much more powerful, like the love is a blanket that covers, possibly even smothers, the entire locale. Again, very subtle, but what a huge difference in the imagery it gives.

There’s a lot more I could say about lots of all of the changes I’ve picked up (deletions, additions, and large changes included), but I think I would largely be saying the same thing, and we’d all be here forever, so I’ll wrap this episode here. Feel free to pick up on any of these changes that you’d like to discuss or comment on in more detail 😊 As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome! See in the next one.

[yesimadeanotherblogfuckoff]

GO S2 OPENING ANALYSIS PT 1 (also Potential GO spoilers idk)

I haven't really seen anyone go in depth on the opening for season two yet so I'm making to this to point out all the things i spotted and some theories this is SUPER LONG POST SO BE WARNED

Crowley crawls up while Aziraphale floats down which is fitting but there's also storm clouds in the distance so there might be a scene after the flood or it's a sign of impending doom

right after crowley and aziraphale go through that dark tunnel Gabriel(?) can be spotted with that infamous box

they're in the middle of a scorched village and crowley sets goats on fire which pretty much confirms that they are somehow going to be involved with the story of Job if not directly involved

here we have that Gabriel statue from the trailer and a gravestone with "EVERYDAY" written on it, the reoccurring song that somehow related to the mystery

here's another gravestone with something written on it, this was the best photo i could get and i tried lightening it but i can't figure out what it says so if anyone has any ideas feel free to share

gravestone with jane austen on it, this author has been referenced quite a bit from the info we have about s2 so far and is on the cover for the episode "The Ball" so looking forward to that

"HERE LIES THE FORMER SHELL OF BEELZLEBUB" so i guess that's Neil's explanation for them having a different actor? Beelzebub molted? gross but very creative

also im pretty sure that bottom one says "Here Lies ADAM" as in antichrist Adam? oh man i hope he isn't dead he was such a sweet kid

there's a guillotine in the far back during their walk through hell hope that isn't foreshadowing anything 0-0

they also have this office on a pillar above the fiery pit of hell which i find very funny but this could also maybe be related to Shax? where she used to work maybe??

a sign for an underground train station so i guess we'll be expecting a train station scene of some kind?

the group walks through this gate with "GENTS" at the top no idea what that implys but i'll put it here anyways

there's a "WINGS FOR VICTORY" sign on the side of this bus which is a reference to British saving campaigns during WWII so confirms more WWII era stuff with aziraphale and crowley

there is this poster for STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN and my first thought was the LED ZEPPLIN song but actually it's a reference this 1946 movie

in which a British wartime aviator who cheats death must argue for his life before a celestial court, hoping to prolong his fledgling romance with an American girl

so thats INTERESTING and COOL and totally doesn't imply ANYTHING about aziraphale and crowley's relationship or (potentially) maggie and nina's

but there is also a Zeppelin (it looks more like a blimp but whatever) and later on they go into a theater which looks very similar to the album cover for Stairway to Heaven

so I'm not gonna rule it out

there's a poster that says "THE FABULOUS LADIES OF CAMELOT" which is probably the group name of the show girls we saw in the trailer it says they are performing at the Windmill Theatre in London which is real and very famous for its Windmill girls who performed as nude living statues

i think this box is part of that saw a person in half trick and i can't wait to see Aziraphale attempt this trick and miserably fail like he always does, lot of laughs for sure

here's aziraphale on stage in his magician's outfit from the trailer but crowley is there as well so maybe he's his assistant? if so thats super funny and explains why crowley is not a fan of his magic act later on

very cute moment of crowley and aziraphale twirling around each other in the stars (this could be a nod to that moment that people spoiled for the first two episodes will know what im talking about )

this bridge they're walking on could potentially be the Humber Bridge near Kingston upon Hull, East Riding of Yorkshire, England (?)

or just a random ass bridge lol i do love to theorize tho

this airplane has "THY KINGDOM AIRWAYS" on its side very funny gag

these cotton candy hearts appear to be raining from the sky which im not sure what that implies but this season is focusing more on romance so it fits (also crowley and azira sitting together on the roof cute <3)

here we have maggie's record shop and nina's cafe right next to each other with record banners on the street, maybe a promotional party for the store? there's also a jukebox with records stacked in front of it. there's a promotional image of aziraphale holding everyday on vinyl (that i can't find sorry) so maybe he's gonna use this jukebox to play it?

i believe this is Gabriel(?) holding the package and going down an elevator from Heaven so he wasn't lying about needing to deliver something to Aziraphale something must've happened to him on his way over

one of the group is holding a sign for the "The 2nd Coming" as in the second coming of Jesus Christ?

A bar called The Dirty Donkey, new location for aziraphale and crowley to dine at? there's a smaller sign there but it's impossible to read HOWEVER

it looks like a holy figure standing in front of the opening of a cave, maybe an angel? considering the clothing maybe Jesus Christ?

I'm at my limit for photos so I will continue this in my next post!

(edit: here's the link for pt 2)

[katie-the-bug]

Left Behind 2: Electric Boogaloo

Tribulation Force, the sequel to Left Behind, is a long book in which nothing happens and nothing continues to happen for chapters on end. If half of this book and half of the last book were cut and the remains were merged into a single book the plot would not suffer. Unlike the last book, which merely made no sense, the choices made in this book are actively frustrating and I have strong words about it. This post is gonna be as long as I can make it. I'm not sorry.

Anyways, for those of you just tuning in, our cast includes:

The Tribulation Force, a core group of post-Rapture Christians whose mission is...unclear:

Rayford Steele, pilot based in Chicago, born-again Christian, father to a Raptured son, husband to a Raptured wife.

Chloe Steele, Rayford's college-aged daughter and only surviving non-Raptured family.

Buck Williams, allegedly the greatest reporter in the world, banished to Chicago for his journalistic failures, also a born-again Christian. He works for "Global Weekly."

Bruce Barnes, the group's pastor and mentor whose lukewarm Christianity and subsequent failure to get Raptured is harped on again and again.

The villains:

Nicolae Carpathia, the most powerful, popular, and charming man in the world and the God-King Secretary-General of the United Nations. Also the Antichrist.

Hattie Durham, formerly a flight attendant and the object of Rayford's illicit desires, now Nicolae's personal assistant and girlfriend.

Chaim Rosenzweig, an Israeli scientist and a friend to both Buck and Nicolae, neither of whom are going to tell him that he's working for the Antichrist.

Without further ado - the first half of the book:

Chapter 1 more or less starts off with Buck arguing with his new manager, one Verna Zee, whom Buck's narration calls a "wanna-be boss who couldn't write her way out of a paper bag." Her crimes are numerous and terrible: taking charge of the Chicago office of the Global Weekly after her superior vanished, refusing to let Buck barge into her office without an appointment, and refusing to feed Buck's massive ego when he claims his journalistic talent is being wasted. Buck's clearly in the wrong here, but Verna is a woman telling a man what to do, so in the authors' minds, she's despicable.

Meanwhile, Rayford's colleagues have resorted to begging him not to proselytize on the job. I seriously doubt that the authors were aiming to set both of their protagonists up as classical assholes, but they've done an excellent job regardless.

Chapter 2 reveals that Nicolae, who is employed by the UN, is working with various religious leaders to create a one-world-religion. I don't know much about the United Nations, but I really don't think inventing new religions is part of their job.

The characters discuss with great anticipation the upcoming peace treaty between the UN and Israel. Israel is a member of the UN, and while there's some talk about how Israel will license its magic fertilizer in exchange for being defended after it disarms itself, it could have licensed the fertilizer already and everyone else is disarming anyway, this makes no sense. But the authors think Israel needs to make a deal with the Antichrist, and so it goes.

Bruce says that, once Israel signs the treaty, "the clock starts ticking" - the seven-year Tribulation will begin, bringing with it human suffering beyond anything seen in history and ultimately the destruction of the world as we know it. This means that if the treaty can be delayed or canceled, so too can the end of the world. The heroes of a better story would use this knowledge to try and save the world. The protagonists of this one don't even think about it.

Chloe wonders whether she should go back to college, knowing that the end of days is nigh, and Bruce cuts in with, "You can go to college right here," "here" being the church. While Chloe won't need the kind of education that could get her a job, she could still go to school for useful skills that will help her and the new Christian community survive the Tribulation, and I think that if she were a male character, this would be the angle the story would take. As it is, Bruce's response carries the all-too-common undertone that the only education a woman needs is religious.

Rayford and Chloe discuss Chloe's interest in Buck, and she remarks that "it wouldn't have been appropriate for her to ask him out by myself." Chloe, you are twenty. And he's thirty, but that's a problem for another day.

At the beginning of Chapter 3, Bruce says, of Hattie's employment, "I don't imagine [Nicolae] chose her for her clerical skills." Every time Hattie comes up or appears in the story, somebody, either the writer or the characters, goes out of their way to insult her. No wonder she likes Nicolae; he probably treats her better than the authors do.

Throughout these first few chapters there's a subplot where neither Buck nor Chloe know what to do about their mutual attraction to each other, and they keep talking about it to everyone but each other and getting absolutely nowhere, saying and thinking the same things over and over while what little plot there is drags on and on. Just a reminder that just because a book is 400 pages long doesn't mean it has any substance.

"Don't involve me in this if it's going to get silly." <- Me to myself before staring this series. If only I had listened.

Buck finally finishes the piece on the Rapture that he was writing for most of the last book, "deciding it might be the best work he had ever done." We see none of it, so Buck's writing credentials remain a myth.

Chapter 3 also takes a few pages to mock Catholics - or, rather, the authors' ideas about how Catholics talk and act - because obviously unity in the Body of Christ is a tool of the devil.

In a sermon about the coming catastrophes, Bruce says "Horrible as these judgements will be, I urge you to see them as final warnings from a loving God who is not willing that any should perish." This after they've just discussed how the first set of judgements will kill a quarter of Earth's surviving population. That does not sound like God being unwilling to kill people. That doesn't even sound like reluctance. God is going to kill a quarter of the Earth's population, knowing that most of them are not True Christians and thus damned, to make an example of them to everyone else. We haven't really gotten into the Tribulation yet, so I haven't talked about it much, but I think we'll find that the God of Left Behind is the most destructive force in the series.

Either Bruce or the authors think that the plural of "millennium" is "millenniums." For shame!

At the beginning of Chapter 4, Bruce preaches about the Antichrist. He knows exactly who the Antichrist is and what he's planning. He does not feel it necessary to share this information with his congregation, answering questions vaguely, even when they concern Nicolae directly. Why does he do this? If I had to guess, he's protecting himself at the expense of his congregation's souls.

Incidentally, I just realized that "Nicolae Carpathia" has the same stress pattern as "Alexander Hamilton" and if I have to live with that knowledge, so do you.

Earlier in the story, Buck had asked a female colleague to drop some things off at his house on her way to pick up her fiancé, at the same time as he had asked Chloe to come over before he changed his plans without telling her. Now, due to coincidence and poor wording, Chloe thinks he's engaged to another woman. Evidently the authors thought that their romantic subplot wasn't stupid enough.

Continuing in the series' grand tradition of characters talking endlessly about every event chapters before it happens, Chaim informs Buck that his buddy, rabbi Tsion Ben-Judah, will be giving a televised presentation on "prophecies relating to Messiah so we Jews will recognize him when he comes." Buck thinks to himself that "a legitimate study of messianic prophecies could lead only to Jesus." This idea, which the authors present as legitimate, that Christians as a whole understand Judaism better than the Jewish people as a whole is ridiculously anti-Semitic - as is the idea that the Jewish people will ignorantly make a deal with the Devil to usher in the end times. Yes, the authors love Israel because of they role it plays in their end-of-the-world fantasy, but they have no respect for Judaism or Jewish people.

Bruce says in Chapter 8 that, "I'll grieve and mourn my wife for a long time, as if she were dead." We return to the idea that people who were Raptured somehow do not qualify as dead, and it occurs to me: from a different perspective, this could make for a really interesting psychological horror premise. "A man loses his family in a mysterious disaster, and he becomes convinced that they are not dead, but have been taken somewhere else. It soon becomes clear that he will do anything to join them..."

I'm running out of letters, so I'm gonna have to end this post right here. Expect more momentarily. Thanks for reading!

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

"Tom Riddle effectively destroys the country from the inside out, which I believe was his true goal the entire time" (c) wait a second, so you think that he wasn't going to really take over or anything, just destroy the fuck out of w britain?

I have avoided this ask long enough.

I’ll start by saying that asking me about Tom Riddle is like staring down into a bottomless rabbit hole. We could travel down that path, but it is a dark and perilous journey, and by the end of it I will come out looking like the Mad Hatter.

It also requires a few prerequisites that you’re just going to accept as true (or else got off the crazy train here).

We know very little about Tom Riddle or Voldemort

What we do know of Tom Riddle comes to us from suspect sources

I’m just going to go out there and start with the basis that Tom is not crazy

Elaborating a little on number 1. We never actually see much of Tom Riddle or Voldemort directly. He’s a bit like Thanos in the MCU, or Palpatine in the first two movies of the Original Trilogy, he’s this looming threat that we pass by and glimpse every once in a while but never really get quality time with.

Generally, Voldemort makes an appearance in a moment of crisis.

He and Harry fight over the philosopher’s stone for Tom’s very survival. He and Harry fight over the diary for Tom’s very survival. He resurrects himself with Harry as a witness. We get those very strange dreams from Voldemort’s perspective (half of which we later learn are fabricated).

None of these really lend to our, or Harry’s for that matter, understanding of Tom Riddle. There’s too much going on, it usually happens far too fast, and there’s usually something Tom Riddle desperately wants or needs that eclipses all other concerns or else he has an audience.

This is part of the reason we get those Halfblood Prince pensieve lessons: Harry knows nothing of Tom Riddle and doesn’t understand him at all.

Which leads us, of course, to number 2, most of what we know about Tom Riddle comes from Dumbledore. I’ve talked about this before, so I won’t spend much time on it, but Dumbledore has a very clear agenda in relaying these memories to Harry. Dumbledore already has strong suspicions of what objects are horcruxes and where they’re located, he already has Snape as a very reliable agent to continue work when he’s gone, his job here is to convince Harry there is no path but suicide. And that involves portraying Tom Riddle as the most evil man who ever eviled, was born eviler than the antichrist, and will die eviler than the antichrist. 

Now, does this make Tom necessarily good or bad? No.

However, it does mean when Dumbledore tells us things like, “See, Harry, an impoverished child was upset when I lit all his belongings on fire! What a monster!” (especially given that, in a similar situation, Harry thought it was hilarious when Hagrid gave Dudley a permanent physical deformity and Harry was told he was an angel child) we should take it with a very large grain of salt.

Right, so, with all that backdrop what I’m getting at is that a) we can’t take Dumbledore at his word b) even if we could he could be wrong c) Harry doesn’t have the introspection to be able to figure himself when a or b is happening. I won’t elaborate on this last much, suffice to say that Harry’s world is very black and white, divided into the camps of those who personally like him and those who don’t.

So, why do I think Tom’s goal was not to rule the wizarding world but instead to destroy it?

A few things.

First, there are so many easier ways he could have ended up ruling the wizarding world. More, even when he effectively does rule the wizarding world in book seven, he takes very strange actions so that he’s never directly in power.

Second, I never really bought Tom’s racism. It’s too convenient and too contradictory with his backstory.

The second first, because we’re going out of order today. I’ve gone over this before, but I don’t believe Tom had minions early and I think he was effectively treated as a muggleborn (see here and here) until he took on the Voldemort persona many decades later. I’m hard pressed to believe someone as intelligent, angry, and proud as Tom Riddle would willingly believe and accept he was inferior to the likes of Abraxas Malfoy. More, even if he wished he was a halfblood, I think the evidence of him being muggleborn would be stacked too high against him to deny even to himself (and when he finds out it’s not true, he has maybe a month or so before he realized that he’s the bastard son of a squib). 

And it’s just so convenient. All the people with the power, with the money, who are itching for a cause against a threat that doesn’t really exist believe in blood purity. Ergo, Voldemort shows up suddenly espousing over the top blood purity rhetoric (rhetoric that directly clashes with his “there is only power” philosophy at that). 

In other words, I think Tom Riddle gave himself a line that he knew would get him places very quickly.

And now for the first. For a guy who has had the entire country in the palm of his hands twice, one time taking it over in a bloodless coup, he’s really big on causing collateral damage and really small on actually doing the ruling thing.

The first wizarding war, Tom Riddle as Voldemort has the backing of the heirs of the most prestigious and wealthy noble houses save a select few. These are people with seats in the Wizengamot, which has a frightening control over the government itself (including the minister of magic). I imagine, in 1980 had Tom Riddle wanted to be elected as Minister of Magic, he would have been elected as Minister of Magic. If he wanted a friendly face in office then he probably could have made that happen to.

More than even this though, by this point, Tom had already won. By having control over the majority of the Wizengamot he owns the government. He’s done, it’s over, it’s finished, and many of the characters admit as much which is why Harry Potter was such a miracle. So why all the seemingly random, exceptionally pointless, terrorism? 

One answer is that Voldemort is crazy bananas. And sure, I guess we can go with that, except for someone insane he’s oddly effective and very consistent. 

I believe Tom was systematically destroying the very foundations of the country through its core aristocratic families. Within a few short years Tom decimates the Black family, it goes from having five heirs to none, and while some of this isn’t Tom’s fault he does take care of quite a few of them. He brands Lucius for life, while Lucius rises high in politics he never escapes the stigma of being a known Death Eater and in the end cannot escape the consequences for his actions. The Malfoy family is very nearly destroyed by the end of the series, had Draco died in the Fiendfyre. The LeStrange family, presumably decimated as well.

More, this is mostly me headcanoning, but I imagine Tom fuels an extremism that the Wizarding World had never contemplated. I imagine, previously, anti-muggleborn sentiment was probably fairly rampant among purebloods. Oh, some were very pro-muggleborn I’m sure, but I think most were fairly “eh” on the people and felt they were a drain on society (such as requiring constant funding for the obliviation department).

However, when Diagon Alley starts getting blown up every other week, when muggleborns start being tortured and murdered, when purebloods who aren’t anti-muggleborn enough are being tortured and murdered, this starts wigging people out in a way they’ve never wigged out before.

By the time we get to Harry Potter’s canon, it is now only a minority that are anti-muggleborn, and they’re perceived as raving lunatics. Nobody wants to be grouped with these people. Which, just goes to show, how much Voldemort rattles the wizarding world in a very small amount of time.

Then there’s Deathly Hallows, rather than become minister himself Voldemort installs a puppet minister. He shows no signs of wishing to change this and instead does things like destroy the sorting hat (which again shakes the very foundations of the wizarding world as whta will we do if we don’t know who’s a Gryffindor anymore?!)

So, where is this ramble going?

Given the results we see, that more than any others it seems to be the purebloods and often Tom’s own followers that suffer colossal losses, I think Tom’s actions are, in part, a means of vengeance against the entire damn wizarding world (but especially the purebloods).

He makes fools of these people, brands them as his slaves, and has them participate in the most over the top ridiculous rituals (the cloaks, the masks, the entire theatrics of it feels like Tom got drunk one night and planned this whole thing out). He destroys them entirely, and better, enables them to completely destroy themselves and the country they believe they’re trying to save.

Basically, I think by the time the series begins Tom is fueled by a nihilist rage that knows no bounds. But dammit all, the wizarding world is going to burn.

[the-gilbird]

so i haven’t really posted anything like this before. but fuck it, because good omens is amazing, and i just shared this with the discord server, and they encouraged me to share it here, so. let’s-a-go, i guess

anyway. so. here it is.

so, we all know crowley is capable of massive feats, in terms of miracles. he can stop time on a whim. he can make a car make it through a ring of whatever the fuck kind of flame surrounded london via the m25, and then have it continue to function for several hours after that. he can pull two other entities (including the fucking antichrist) into what i can only assume to be a pocket dimension or something similar outside of time when one of the most powerful entities in the goddamn universe was approaching their location. and we also know why he is capable of the things he does: his imagination. crowley's creativity and imagination are one of the most powerful forces in the goddamn universe and that's not even an exaggeration. now, the other thing. aziraphale. he's smart, and cunning, and the biggest thing working against him is his lack of confidence in his abilities. he deciphered a large portion of agnes nutter's notoriously fucky riddles in one night. he figured out how to possess someone, despite no angel having done it before. and the reason he isn't higher in the pecking order in heaven is because he's kind, and loves the way angels should; and he is told for six millenia that he is not a good angel, which feeds into the lack of self confidence. but after ain'tmaggedon, he's free of heaven's influence. in fact, the only influence he really has now is crowley. and crowley's loved him for that six millenia, and probably sings his praises as often as he can now that crowley is likewise free of hell's influence, because he is a dumbstruck loveass. so aziraphale is more confident in his own abilities and traits, now. and aziraphale is intelligent. agnes nutter's final prophecy got them out of heaven and hell's line of view, and gave them time. but they won't stay away forever; crowley acknowledged that, right after the switch back in the garden. and aziraphale knows that it's only a matter of time before someone notices some discrepency, and they get caught (there's ten million angels and ten million demons, after all. someone's going to notice). so aziraphale begins to plan.

the first thing he does is plant the seeds, if you'll pardon the pun. after things have been settled for some time, he starts researching. pulling out the oldest ethereal (and occult) texts he owns (which are very old, and very numerous), and researching everything he can about the nature of angels and demons, and the nature of holy water and hellfire. and this takes up some time (seeds need to take root, after all. crowley needs to see him doing the research, after all). and occasionally, exactly as aziraphale knows he will, crowley will ask aziraphale what he's looking into, and aziraphale will say he's looking into protections against hellfire and holy water, for if heaven and hell ever figure out their little misdirection. (and crowley will hem and haw at him for referring to deceiving the entireties of heaven and hell, one of the greatest wiles ever pulled off in all of time, with the same language used to talk about magic tricks. and aziraphale will smile, because he loves every part of crowley.) and this will continue. and eventually, aziraphale will tell crowley that he's made a breakthrough. of course, aziraphale won't actually have made that big of a breakthrough. he has everything he needs by day three. but crowley needs to believe it. crowley needs to believe that aziraphale spent that entire time researching and plotting and planning and reading, because aziraphale is the smartest person that crowley knows, and if anyone can figure it out, his angel can. but what aziraphale tells him is that there wasn't any need of a plan at all, really. all this research has essentially been for moot. well, not for moot, because now they both know, but they didn't actually need to do anything with the information, aziraphale explains, because they're already safe, and have been for some time.

because, aziraphale says, holy water and hellfire can't affect them anymore. because crowley loves him with all of his heart, aziraphale explains, and he loves crowley with all of his. (don't technically have a heart, crowley says, still a bit blown away, what on account of them having corporations and not bodies, and all. oh hush, you know what i mean, aziraphale says back, and gives crowley a kiss on the forehead for his trouble.) and if a demon loves an angel, really loves them, hellfire won't burn them, because hellfire is the creation of demons, beings of destruction, generally, fueled by the hatred of their opposition, and so if a demon doesn't hate angels, it won't burn as strongly. and if a demon loves an angel, just one, then the angel won't be destroyed. and it works the same the other way 'round with holy water, aziraphale says, more excitedly, as crowley watches him enraptured, because holy water is blessed by angels, used to wipe out the opposition which they hate. and so if an angel loves a demon, that demon will be protected from the blessing, even blessings created by other angels. because love is a powerful force, it is the basis of the creation of humanity, when god first whispered the idea of them into being. when you love someone and have that love returned, you are giving yourself, wholely and completely, to another, and everything you are protects them with everything you have. it just so happens, aziraphale finishes by saying, that the respective weaknesses and strengths of angels and demons balance out rather nicely. humans put this phenomenon into very nice words, once; you must be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known, in order to get the rewards of being loved. and so they are ready. when they come (and they do come, they were always going to come, eventually), they take aziraphale first, just like last time. but unlike last time, aziraphale and crowley are together when their respective former head offices come to deal the killing blows. holy water said to be blessed by the almighty herself, and hellfire harvested from the deepest pits of hell, fueled by satan's everlasting rage. the strongest stuff there is, just so there is every guarentee. (the water fizzles gabriel's skin lightly, even, as a drop falls out as he carries it over, and the fire roars with a heat that even beelzebub inches away from.) it is volatile, it is deadly, and there is absolutely no hope for the traitors now. (or there wouldn't be, if aziraphale weren't so smart.) and crowley is shackled to the ground, his shoulders restrained by... demons? angels? he doesn't know, and he doesn't rightly care at this point, they're all the same to him, forcing him to face aziraphale, shackled and bound just as he is, being led into a roaring inferno of the hottest hellfire crowley has ever seen. and he knows, he knows they're safe, aziraphale looked into every possibility and he trusts aziraphale, trusts him with everything, trusts him with the name he had before the Fall and even with that he can't help struggling, and snarling, and doing everything he can to get out and run to his angel, trying every trick in the book but it's not working because there are too many enemies abound, too many hands holding him down and restraining him as his head is pulled back by his hair and he is forced to watch as aziraphale is shoved into the flames.

(aziraphale knew this, too. crowley is the heart, out of the two of them, he always was, and heaven and hell want every bit of revenge they can get, they want it to hurt. they know it will hurt worst if crowley is forced to watch the love of his life die in front of him, unable to do anything, and for aziraphale to die knowing that he can't protect crowley from what is coming next.) (really, it's no wonder aziraphale figured out agnes nutter's prophecies so quickly; for being two completely different entities, they think with remarkable similarity.) but aziraphale has already protected crowley. he has already protected both of them, because he is the smartest being crowley has ever known, and because he knows crowley, just as crowley knows him. and he knows crowley is, hands down, one of the most powerful beings in all of creation, and crowley's imagination is a force never to be reckoned with. all that stuff aziraphale spouted, about how a love from a demon can protect an angel, and vice versa? bullshit. complete and utter bullshit. aziraphale found what he needed to in those books he researched, and what he needed was just enough solid evidence for him to convince CROWLEY that it was true. it is the biggest, boldest, most daring lie aziraphale has ever told, and he will never tell crowley the truth because he can't. (he has practice, with this whole lying thing. he's lied to humans, he's lied to heaven, hell, he's even lied to crowley before. and he promised crowley he would never tell him another lie again but this one, this one he really can't help, not if it means keeping them both safe, and aziraphale will keep this close to his chest until the end of time. and he will only regret it for a single instance, and that is when he hears crowley's scream as he is thrown into hellfire.) the hellfire doesn't touch him. it can't touch him, because crowley believes it won't. despite being made of the purest anger the universe has ever known, it wraps around aziraphale like a warm embrace, like a gentle smile, like a 'welcome home.' and as crowley sees aziraphale's figure unwavering in the fire, his cry cuts out, and he smiles even as he is drenched, because it worked, just like aziraphale said it would. (and it worked. just like crowley thought it would, aziraphale thinks, as he smiles and sighs a breath of relief that they are finally (finally) safe.)

[cordeliafoxxe]

✨SP Secret Santa✨

I hope you’ve had a wonderful holiday @goodeday2u !! I apologize that it’s a bit late, I had some technical difficulties. I haven’t written anything in a long time, but I hope you enjoy what I’ve written for you ☺️

(Credit to @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for the gif. Hopefully you don’t mind xx)

It was Christmas morning, but the warm weather or New Orleans made it feel like anything but that. You spent the morning with your nose in books about concealment spells and weather, a plan brewing in your head. A few hours later you stumbled upon one that you think would do the trick and you made your way to Cordelia’s office. Tucking the spellbooks under your arm, you knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” you heard her say from inside. You gently opened the door to see your girlfriend sitting at her desk. Her glasses were perched on her nose as she busied herself with work. She hardly ever took a break from her Supremely duties. Even on Christmas when she should be relaxing (spending time with you, you thought) she still managed to find something to do. It was a quality you admired, her commitment to help as many young witches as she could, but you knew she deserved a break. 

She had been extra hard on herself lately, believing that the rise of the Antichrist was causing her powers to diminish. She tried her hardest to hide it from the other girls, but one night in particular she had stumbled on the stairs and Zoe had to rush to catch her. It was Zoe that suggested you ask Cordelia for help with a spell so she’d realize how powerful she still was. Plus it would get her out of the office and hopefully take her mind off of the threat from the warlocks. 

“Hey Delia,” you said.

She looked up. A smile spreading across her face as soon as she you. “Hi sweetheart.”

“So I want to surprise the girls with something for Christmas, but I don’t think my powers are strong enough on my own. Do you think you could help me?”

You carried the ancient textbooks to her desk and laid one down with a thud. You pointed to a section of the page that said circulus abscondito. Cordelia peered over the top of her glasses at the page. “And what do you intend on doing with that spell dear?” You carefully placed another book on top of the opened one. Cordelia’s eyes followed your hands as they trailed around, struggling to read from upside down. Her eyes scanned the page before settling on what you had been searching for. She placed her work aside on the desk and scooped up the books. 

“You had better bundle up sweet girl,” she said with a wink as she walked past you. Grinning, you rushed to follow her outside, grabbing your coat on the way.

--- 

You watched in awe as Cordelia finished casting a spell around the coven. “That should do it.” She had made it look so effortless. You were hardly surprised though; she was the Supreme after all. You took a minute to watch her. She was smiling slightly, happy at the new spell she accomplished, the sun turning her hair a brilliant gold. She looked like an angel. She turned her attention toward you, making you blush at being caught staring. 

“Okay, so this next part should be interesting,” you said. Cordelia came to stand next to you. Her knuckles grazed your side as she peered over your shoulder and studied the incantation. 

After a few minutes, she took the book from you and set it aside. “This spell will need both of our powers.” She took your hand softly. “Focus on the sky and repeat after me okay?” You nodded. 

“Frigidam aquam deducere,” she chanted. She furrowed her brows slightly and lifted her hands into the air. Following her lead you focused on the invisible water droplets in the atmosphere. 

“Frigidam aquam deducere.” You could feel the air begin to tingle as the two of you continued to chant, loosing focus momentarily as you admired Cordelia as she concentrated on casting the spell. Suddenly you noticed a flicker of white in front of your face, then another, and another. You stopped chanting and tipped your head back to look at the sky that was now filled with softly falling snowflakes. 

“We did it Delia!” You exclaimed as you turned to face her. She lowered her hands to clasp yours and pull you closer. 

“Oh my sweet girl, I knew we could.” She grinned and wrapped her arms around your waist. “You are more powerful than you think.”

“As are you, Miss Supreme,” you countered. Her fingers gripped your shirt for a split second as the doubt crept back into her mind. She hoped you hadn’t noticed, but you did. You had been together long enough for you to recognize the smallest of signs. The tears collecting in her eyes gave her emotions away. “You are the strongest person I know Delia. I know you might not feel like it right now, but there’s not another witch on this planet more fit to be in charge of this coven. I trust you with my life, and my heart. There’s no one else I’d rather have as my Supreme.”

The tears had escaped their prison and were trickling down her face. You lifted a hand and gently cupped her cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb. 

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I don’t know, but you’re stuck with me,” you giggled leaning in to brush your nose against hers. Cordelia lifted a hand from your waist and threaded her fingers through the hair at the base of you neck. She tugged ever so softly and pulled you in to a kiss. You savored the warmth of Cordelia’s lips on yours: a stark contrast to the cold snowflakes that surrounded you. 

---

The girls were told that after breakfast together, they were to meet outside. 

“Honestly what’s the big surprise about?” Madison groaned as she walked down the stairs with a few of the other girls. “If it’s not the hot neighbor next door or a bottle of booze big enough to drown myself in, then I don’t want it.”

Coco playfully slapped her arm. “Come on Madison. Y/N and Cordelia spent a lot of time working on whatever it is. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Madison opened her mouth, ready to comment that you and Cordelia probably spent a lot of time doing something else when she reached the back door and the words died in her throat. 

The entire backyard was blanketed in fresh snow. An igloo had been constructed (with the help of some magic) by the greenhouse, and lights were strung in the trees. 

You and Cordelia had been waiting outside for the girls to arrive. You were met by the excited squeals and cheers from the girls. Their reaction made you grin, looking at Cordelia triumphantly. You stood to the side watching as the young witches clambered around to find suitable outfits, others simply braving the cold. 

Mallory approached the two of you. “This is amazing, but won’t the neighbors see and come after us?” She was always worrying over something, never allowing herself to fully let go until she knew that she was safe to. 

“We enchanted the area around the whole coven,” Cordelia said. “From the outside, it looks like every other day here. Now go enjoy yourself. Coco looks like she needs a teammate.” You followed Cordelia’s gaze and burst out laughing when it landed on Coco being pelted with snow by some of the younger girls. Mallory quickly sped off to aid her friend. 

A snowball fight soon broke out and filled the air with hastily made projectiles. “You know Delia, not to toot my own horn or anything, but this was one of the best ideas I’ve had.” You grinned her way. She tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. 

“The girls do seem to be enjoying themselves.” You held your breath as she leaned in to whisper in your ear. “And I must say, watching you perform that spell with me got me quite flustered baby girl. You obeyed me so well.” Despite the cold, heat rushed to your cheeks. Cordelia’s teeth tugged at your earlobe as she pulled away, a groan leaving your lips.

You were conducting a plan to tease Cordelia back when a giant snowball erupted on your shoulder. Turning around, you faced Zoe and Madison bent over with laughter. With a flick of your wrist the branches above their heads released the snow that they were holding, covering the pair from head to toe in the cold powder.

“I might have stumbled upon that spell earlier today too,” you said with a smirk toward Cordelia who was laughing softly. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Cordelia, don’t you dare,” you warned. She smirked and you knew there was no escaping, so you took off running with her hot on your heels. 

The pair of you ended up dominating the snowball fight for a few hours before the girls surrendered and decided it was time to go inside and exchange gifts. 

Cordelia had seemed to be in better spirits and not once did she feel her powers wane. You gazed at her by the fireplace from across the room. You weren’t sure if it was from spending time with her girls, but she was glowing. Her brown eyes met yours and she smiled softly. She retrieved a neatly wrapped package from under the tree and beckoned you over. 

“Merry Christmas darling,” she said. You admired the green wrapping for a moment. “To Y/N, Love Cordelia” was written delicately next to a stem from a white orchid. You peeled the tape off of the edges not wanting to destroy the beautiful gift. Inside was a velvet box. Your heart sped up with anticipation. A dainty silver bracelet studded with emeralds and diamonds lay inside. 

“It’s gorgeous Cordelia.” She picked up the bracelet and helped fasten it around your wrist. 

“Only the best for you darling. I love you so much Y/N,” she said reaching a hand up to cup your face. She leaned in for another kiss and you couldn’t imagine a better end to Christmas. 

“I love you too Delia.”

[asgardian--angels]

Some more Good Omens Book minutiae

There have already been some good posts highlighting trivia and changes between the book and show (a couple are here and here) so I thought I’d add in some more that might be useful and haven’t been overdone yet. Ones I think are most helpful are bolded!

Crowley can see in the dark (because he’s a demon, not because he’s a snake)

Crowley does eat (and notes that sleeping is enjoyable after a heavy meal), but on at least one canonical occasion Aziraphale takes Crowley’s portion of food for himself (angel food cake, to be exact, and he does it without needing to ask) so infer what you will about how we never see Crowley with food in the show

Crowley does read, or at the very least it mentions him attempting to calm his nerves by reading a novel

Aziraphale learned magic when he took a class in the 1870s taught by famous stage magician John Maskelyne

Aziraphale takes his tea without sugar

Crowley does not like to shapeshift, because he is afraid he’ll forget how to turn back 

It’s not terribly clear but somewhat implied that Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis were NOT Crowley and Aziraphale (they reference a ‘team’ working for them) but that the two did exchange and compare notes on Warlock’s progress frequently. So thank Neil and Co. for the screenplay choices. Additionally, Brother Francis never actually did any real gardening, he just miracled everything to look perfect

When Warlock was 6 years old, nanny and gardener left and were replaced by two tutors, Mr. Harrison (evil) and Mr. Cortese (good)

Aziraphale will employ any means “short of actual physical violence” to discourage customers in his bookshop, including unpleasant damp odors and glowering looks to anyone who walks in

That clunky watch Crowley wears was custom-made to have the time in 20 world capitals as well as the time in Hell, which was always “Too Late”, and whose battery burned out years ago but he never noticed so it kept working

In 1653 Aziraphale added his own annotations to the proof sheets of a Bible published by Bilton & Scaggs Publishing (the same as who published the Nice and Accurate Prophecies), adding a bit about losing his flaming sword (basically the dialogue in the scene of the series where God confronts him at the gate in episode 3), and is now known as the Bugger Alle This Bible, one of a special collection of misprinted Bibles Aziraphale is proud to own

Aziraphale does watch films. This includes one documentary about gorillas making nests. He also makes an Exorcist reference.

For 6000 years Aziraphale thought dolphins were fish

Crowley watched Mary Poppins on TV at Christmas one year

Aziraphale buys his clothes, while Crowley manifests them

Anathema refers to Crowley and Aziraphale as “two consenting cycle repairmen” :)

Anathema’s bicycle is named Phaeton

Aziraphale’s bookshop is situated directly next to another bookshop called ‘Intimate Books’ and he occasionally gets confused customers that wrongly come into his shop

Anathema is British, not American, in the book

Adam has an older sister named Sarah

Aziraphale is the first angel to own a computer

After the non-Armageddon, Adam alters reality to send Warlock on a plane to America, because Adam thinks America is a cool and magical place and that Warlock deserves something good. (We do not find out if Warlock’s life improves, only that he liked England because it was ‘a good place to be an American’)

Crowley was so impressed by how diabolically mundane the warranty conditions for computers were that he sent a stack of them down to Hell’s ‘Immortal Souls’ agreement department with a memo saying ‘Learn, guys’

When Crowley trapped Hastur on his answering machine, he considered taking the tape and playing it in his car until it became Freddie Mercury, but he decided even that was taking it too far

While NOT show canon, in the book the combination to Crowley’s safe containing the holy water is 4-0-0-4, the year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvellous planet” (Neil has stated that the combination in the show is meaningless and was the default for the safe they bought)

In the book, it does NOT expressly say that Crowley destroys the plants he deems failures, just that he leaves and returns an hour later with an empty flowerpot

Crowley’s flat contains a bedroom, office, kitchen, lounge, and bathroom, each “forever clean and perfect” because he doesn’t really “live” there, as well as a fridge stocked with gourmet food that never spoils and the fridge isn’t even plugged in

Shadwell believes that Aziraphale is a Russian spy

Crowley and Aziraphale had both visited Shadwell’s apartment exactly once (and Aziraphale was rather disgusted by the state of the place)

In the book (as opposed to the show) Aziraphale is full aware (and nonplussed) that there’s only a 50/50 chance Heaven would win against Hell in Armageddon, and that it doesn’t matter for humans so much anyways because everyone will be killed horribly as civilian casualties during the war itself (a hilarious and very bitchy speech absolutely worth reading, when he possesses Marvin the TV preacher)

The road to Hell isn’t paved with good intentions, rather with frozen door-to-door salesmen, and young demons go ice-skating down it on weekends

Madame Tracy’s real name is Marjorie Potts

Aziraphale has “neat, copperplate” handwriting

Crowley is an optimist

It turns out, Hastur’s murder of the telephone salespeople prevented a Crowley-esque domino effect of thousands of people getting angry from the calls and passing that anger on and on, thus actually spreading a wave of low-level goodness across London

In the book, the M25 wasn’t actually on fire, but rather an inexplicable glowing combination of “pain and dark light” called infra-black, and was both 700 degrees Celsius and -140 at the same time. The Bentley spontaneously combusted when crossing it.

When Crowley meets Aziraphale-as-Tracy, he does say ‘Is that you? Nice dress’ but the TV version added the ‘It suits you.’ However in the book he also says ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new body?’ :)))

When Adam acknowledges Crowley at the airbase, Crowley feels true terror for the first time in his life, because while Hell could make you cease to exist, the Antichrist could make it so you never existed in the first place

When Aziraphale makes the soldier disappear, he actually was transported back to his childhood home in America where his family lives

In the book, to get them both home from Tadfield Crowley steals a Jeep from the airbase

Crowley and Aziraphale are deadass just referred to as ‘the couple with the bottle [of wine]’ one time

There is no body swap scene at the end, because there didn’t need to be; in the book, the stakes of Aziraphale and Crowley’s Arrangement were not nearly as high. A big deal was never made of it, as they were too unimportant to warrant the attention of their superiors. Retribution never came. While they could get in trouble (and Crowley was threatened many times) for defying orders concerning the Apocalypse, little mention was made of their friendship being a crime. Thus, they never had any real reason to deny being friends, and were much more comfortable with their loyalties and each other. This lack of tension marks the biggest divergence between the series and book, and creates a starkly different (and interesting!) dynamic for the characters in the show.

Just me but I get the distinct sense that book Aziraphale and Crowley are already an old bickering married couple and this explains the distinct lack of pining lmao.

Anyway, I hope these were enjoyable or helpful!

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Apocalypse After (Part 11)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader

Summary: There was never any hope of saving Michael Langdon, never a chance to stop the apocalypse. The Antichrist was already too intertwined with his destiny when the reader met him all those years ago. But Mallory can go back and make things right and when the reader travels with her, an opportunity sparks to try and make things right after all.

Words: 2.4K

Warning: Character!Death, violence, the afterlife, religious references 

A/N: Time for another long awaited update! We’re getting into some BACKSTORY here and I hope everything is still making sense. We get some drama in this chapter hons, so I hope you are READY!  

(The Apocalypse After masterlist is up to date, so if you are new you can read the whole series there!) 

Descending is peaceful. It’s pretty much dying, except you get a sliver of hope that somehow you might return. Your body goes completely weightless, as if you’re gliding through water as you materialise inside your own hell. 

Metal pokes at me, glass rains down on my face.

I will myself to be calm.

It isn’t real. Not this time. 

The car engine whirs something horrid as I try and inch myself out of the wreck, but I’m stuck. My leg has been crushed in the fray and no matter how I scream I can’t get free and no one is coming to save me. 

Fear floods me, the claustrophobia and the knowledge that my pursuers are also dead in the backseats. Blood coats the driver’s headrest, the body-shaped hole in the glass is my biggest indicator that whoever was driving crashed. 

‘HELP!’ I shove my body weight against the steering wheel, gripping on as I try and ease myself free.

I can’t move my leg. 

The goons, sent to get me.

Fiona.

‘HELP ME!’ I scream louder, begging for anyone to come. 

I don’t know how long I try and work myself free, it could be seconds or hours. 

I could be dead again and never know. 

My magic is useless.

‘MICHAEL!’ 

‘Now this is interesting.’ A face looms in at me, through the cracked windshield. The cracked visage, those coal-red eyes that can see into your very depths. ‘Of all the people I thought would come for a visit, you are not one I thought would be back.’ 

‘Papa,’ My breath leaves me, mystified as the Loa reaches a hand through the hole and cups my chin. ‘Did…who sent you?’

‘Despite your death occurring once before, you have tried again knowing that your fate will be the same.’ He purrs, ‘Suicide? After all I did for you?’ 

‘This is not suicide.’ I say, unable to look away from those penetrating eyes.

Understanding dawns and then settles, twinkling in those eyes, ‘The boy. You follow on his command?’ 

‘I didn’t have a choice.’ 

‘You said the spell yourself.’ He warns, ‘You do not have to be here, living the worst time of your life over and over.’

I swallow, wishing I could wrench myself from his cold touch, ‘He’ll come find me.’

‘You trust him?’ Papa’s head tilts to the side, ‘He is the Antichrist, no?’

I hesitate, ‘Not anymore.’

‘No.’ Papa’s yellowed teeth appear as his lips stretch into a smile, ‘You corrected that part of him. Despite my very clear warning.’

‘I didn’t break our contract.’ I insist, ’The deal was you’d give me another life so long as I never interfere with a soul that belongs to you. Michael never belonged to you.’

‘Not to me.’ Papa withdraws his hand, ‘But to another, far more powerful than I.’ 

I hadn’t thought it through. 

In trying to keep Michael safe, I’d delivered both of us right to someone far more sinister than Mallory. 

’They want to see you,’ Papa elaborates, his hand rising. The car and our surroundings dissolve, leaving us in a white box. 

I’m paralysed, incapable of getting up despite my freed leg. ‘Where is Michael?’

‘He’s back in the land of the living.’ Papa breezes past me, towards a door I hadn’t seen before. He takes out a key ring with more keys than seem possible, glowing a spectrum of colours. He inserts a distinct white key into the door and with a clack, it opens. ‘He did ask after you, but I have orders and thanks to you, the boy is no longer in a management position.’ 

There goes my window of opportunity. 

The escape I’d been banking on. 

‘Come, now.’ There’s no arguing or fighting Papa Legba. I follow him out into corridors of polished black marble, gloomy after such stark whiteness. We walk for an indeterminable amount of time, past doors upon doors upon doors. There are no numbers, but as we travel along occasionally Papa will insert a key, open a door and peer inside. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that doors with a dark coloured key a someone’s personal hell. The screams of terror of confirmation enough. Every so often, Papa will produce a pastel key, open a door to which there is silence.

Those doors unnerve me even more.

What could make a person be completely silent in hell? 

‘We have seen the work you have been doing,’ Papa comments after closing another of these doors. He keeps the key ring in hand as we continue walking, ‘Freeing the souls of the damned.’ 

‘No one should be stuck in eternal torment.’ 

‘You no longer have voice in those matters.’ 

‘I still have my power.’ My voice stings with defensiveness, I can barely control my shakes. ‘So long as I have it I’ll defy them.’ 

We emerge into a foyer, more elaborate than the endless corridor and turn left, down a side hallway. ‘Between you and I’ Papa says, ‘I have rather enjoyed your efforts.’ That takes me by surprise as a deep chuckle emerges from the Loa, ‘It has been a long time since I saw them so…rattled.’

He raps once on a door and then sets back down the corridor, ‘I hope to see you again, Y/N. Under better circumstances.’ 

The door opens and I suck in a breath. 

                                              Manicured nails drum against a desk. I slip into the office, trying to compose myself before they turn around. They consult a whiteboard, head tilting in observation before connecting a line in red marker to another. ‘Close the door.’

I do as I’m told, but stay close enough to try and get some semblance of a head start if I need to. The marker clatters to the floor, a feminine giggle rising between us, ‘Running, you’re better than that.’ 

I haven’t seen them adopt this form in years, but we all know she remains one of their preferred physical forms. The simple black dress, the habit that hides blonde hair and the infamous, tell-tale lipstick sitting on the desk. Blue flashes orange as finally, they turn round with a face full of glee. ‘You’ve come home to us, finally.’ 

‘A pleasure.’ I say, still not moving. 

‘Tea?’ They cast a hand over the desk, where a teapot, sugar sachets, creamer and a spoon appear, ‘Or coffee?’ 

A Starbucks Frappuccino materialises and I’m almost surprised, still I walk over and start sucking on it. ‘A new acquisition?’ 

‘Took long enough didn’t it?’ Satan is pleased with themselves, perching on the desk. ‘Such a corrupt corporation, such capitalism and they only just pledge themselves to me. It will never fail to impress me how much people are influenced by greed.’ 

I know what they’re getting at. 

‘I wasn’t greedy.’ I say, ‘I love him.’ 

’Still greed.’ They counter, spinning a finger at me. ‘You could not resist meddling. My son was doing well enough on his own.’

‘I thought after four days, if you weren’t going to bother…’

Satan re-applies a fresh coat of scarlet, ‘I was teaching him to not be so fucking soft. Pathetic, piss-dribble of a boy couldn’t even tie his own shoe laces without applause.’ They take in a breath, a tight smile back in place, ‘Nevertheless, we are here.’

‘I really got under your skin, didn’t I?’ I say it as it dawns on me, Satan’s barely just restraining themselves from lashing out at me. Their grip is too tight on the lipstick, their smile so far removed from a genuine humane smile. Even my Starbucks has gone acrid, sour and makes me want to vomit. 

‘Tell me why I shouldn’t slit that little throat, set you alight and use your blood for my next bath?’ 

‘I don’t work for you anymore.’ I say, trying to remain brave despite how my voice tremors. Satan’s pushed themselves right up in my face, Starbucks shoved to the side and splattered on the chair meant for me. ‘My deal with Papa exonerated from you.’ 

‘All the fallen work for me.’ Satan snarls, ‘As it has always been.’ 

‘You’ll try again.’ I’m working towards an angle, ‘You always try again. If you’re anything it’s committed. Regardless of me, Michael would still be dead. You’d still have no Antichrist.’ 

I’ve got them there. Satan stalks back to their desk and throws themselves in the chair, those blue eyes are now a permanent orange. I can see the whiteboard now, behind which is a very detailed plan, written in cursive red marker. I follow the lines to a set of names with a black ring around them. ‘It’s happening,’ I murmur. ‘You’ve already done it.’ 

‘It will take time.’ Satan never takes their eyes off me, ‘2020 is the next prime year.’ 

‘But you still face the same problem Michael had.’ I counter, feeling a little more confident. I inspect the work laid out, following a black tangent that connects to a name I’m all too familiar with, ‘You’ll never succeed until you end the witches entirely. Especially, the Supreme.’ 

‘I am aware.’ 

‘Then do it yourself.’ I say, ‘Stop making your children do you work for you. You have the capability.’

‘Always more fun to entice men and women to their own dirty deeds.’ Satan echoes, a smile back on their face. ‘All are corruptible, even you.’ 

‘Your efforts are pointless until you finally get off your ass and do it yourself.’ I head for the door, ‘You’ve told me what I need to know, Michael is no longer the Antichrist. He’s free of you and all this.’ 

‘But you are not.’ 

The voice is a whisper in my ear. When I turn round Satan is right behind me. They seize my shoulders, lifting me a couple centimetres off the ground as if I were a feather. ‘My son is as dispensable as a fly, but you-

‘I don’t belong to you anymore.’ I hiss, feet dangling. ‘Your father saw to that himself.’ 

‘You will kill them.’ Satan murmurs. The echo of my hiss manifests, till there is nothing but hissing all around me. The floor has turned to snakes, writhing with their mouths open, fangs bared to snap at me. ‘The witches. The Supremes, all of them.’ 

‘No.’

‘And if you refuse me,’ Satan sings, ‘I will drag that fucked up, useless brat of mine beyond the veil where not even your God could find his mangled carcass.’ 

The office door bangs open. Both Satan and my head snaps towards the figure standing in the door. 

Mallory seizes my wrist, dragging me out of the room, ‘We need to go, now.’

‘You…’ My brain can’t catch up, as Mallory drags me further away from Satan. The devil does nothing but offer a simple wave, before returning to their calculations. ‘The snakes?’

‘No snakes.’ Mallory says, ‘Just magic, Y/N run.’ 

My feet start running, the two of us racing back into the foyer and down the endless corridor of torment. No one follows us, but the voices inside every room are louder, their screams and pleas for sanctuary right on our heels as we run for our lives. ‘You shouldn’t have come back for me.’ I tell her.

‘And let you die?’ She shoots back, ‘Baby Alpha is already crying, you think I want to live with that?’ 

‘Baby what?’

I collide with something so hard, we all go sprawling on the floor.

‘OW!’

‘Michael?’ I breathe, shoving my hair out of my eyes to see the Boy Wonder rubbing the back of his head. 

‘You didn’t come back.’ He’s a mess, eyes bloodshot with fresh tear tracks running down his cheeks. ‘Why did you do it!’

‘I wanted to protect you.’

‘From me?’ Mallory picks herself up off the floor, ‘I just saved your life.’ 

‘Well it’s not exactly in your character, is it?’ I snap back at her, ’Have you lost your penchant for four-wheel drives?’

Her face distorts into a snarl as Michael puts himself between the two of us. I catch my breath as Michael studies Mallory, ‘You, tried to kill me.’

Mallory puts her hands up, ‘I had to.’

Michael’s eyes blaze, but I yank him back, using his arm to clamber back to my feet, ‘Don’t.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ He growls, ‘I never did anything to you.’

Mallory’s eyes dart to me, ‘You will.’ 

‘No he won’t.’ I say firmly, ‘He isn’t…that’s not part of him anymore.’ 

Michael turns to eye me, ‘Did she try and hurt you?’

My silence is a fraction too long. Michael’s eyes gleam with vengeance as Mallory’s chant dies, her throat clasped firmly in Michael’s grasp. ‘MICHAEL.’ I press forwards, trying to push him off her but Michael sends me flying back against the wall. He squeezes hard, but to her credit Mallory lets out no sound. I fight against Michael’s magic as her eyes bulge, bullfrog like. Colour seeps out of her, lips turn blue.

Neither of us spot the flash of silver till after Mallory’s struck. Blood seeps from Michael’s throat and he staggers back, releasing her. I move on pure instinct, seizing the knife as it falls between Mallory and Michael. I drive it into her so hard I’m sure it must be sticking out the other side. Blood sputters from her lips as I shove her back against one of the doors to hell. I clamp my hand over Michael’s throat, failing to stem the gushing flow of blood as Mallory takes a final breath. 

There’s laughter all around, shrill and deep and manic and full of such much mirth. 

Papa peers over Mallory’s body, his eyes meeting mine once more. He holds up a finger - my final chance. 

My body convulses, trying to cram air back into my lungs as I surge upwards. Faces peer at me and I push them away and wheel round. Michael too has risen, clutching at his throat as he gargles and screams. The Warlocks are all over him, trying to calm the boy down. We lock eyes, equal terror reflected back in the other. 

Cordelia’s scream is petrifying, she sinks to her knees as Mallory’s body disintegrates.

Just like Misty Day, all those years ago. 

The Supreme quakes as Zoe tends to her, wrapping her up in a tight hug. 

Myrtle remains as stoic as ever, fixing a crease in her gloves as she casts her eyes over each of us ‘Now, that’s a sorrowful turn of events.’ 

New Tag-List: @sojournmichael @duncvns @elizabethbennett @mochitheruby @dyns33 @xavierplympton @emmyrosee @brattylovee @guiltyfiend​ @lizhomitz1984 @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc​ @blakewaterxx @satansfavouritesons @dark-mei-rose @wroteclassicaly​ @ritualmichael​ @lvngdvns​ @so-langdon​ @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern​ @langdxn @fckinsupreme @xavierplympton @venusxxlangdon​ @rocketgirl2410 @sweetlangdon​ 

TAG LIST IS OPEN IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED!

[swan--writes]

Beetlejuice x pregnant reader

(I was listening to Sara Bareilles’s version of Everything Changes when I wrote this)

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write a scene I’ve been wanting to try my hand at. This one got away from me a little, but (I think) in a good way!

Words: ~2,170

Your chest was resting against the lip of the toilet bowl. The hard press of the floor against your knees kept you centered, though your back was beginning to ache. You weren’t sure how long you had been kneeling on the bathroom floor, but it felt as though it had been ages.

When you felt hands pulling your hair away from your forehead, you were relieved at the cold touch. For a moment, you fought the urge to lean into it, but then you remembered who those hands belonged to. He wouldn’t mind your vomit breath. Within moments, you were leaning back on your heels with a cool hand on your forehead and a chilled arm across your chest.

“You need to get checked out.” Wordlessly, you shook your head and leaned back into Beetlejuice’s chest. You loved the way he felt, though you knew he’d be self-conscious if you told him that. The give of his body when you relaxed into him was more comforting than all the furniture in the apartment you both lived in. Even when he was frustrated with you, like now. “Baby, you’ve been sick for two weeks. It’s not normal, you need to see a doctor.” Wow, not even a crude pun. He must really be worried. You craned your neck to look up at him. His bushy eyebrows were pushed into a tense frown.

You swallowed, grimaced, and broke free of his hold on you to stand. You flushed the toilet on your way to the sink. “I’m not sick,” you said softly. Knowing what was coming, you didn’t look at him.

Every morning for the last two weeks you had been driven to the bathroom with nausea and, truthfully, you knew why. A quick trip to the drug store while your demon boyfriend was off on a bio-exorcism job had been all it took to figure out what was going on. And every day for two weeks you had tried to find a way to tell Beetlejuice. It was growing more and more difficult for you to convince him to drop the subject, which is why you had tried to be quiet this morning. But the tone in his voice when he replied to your attempted deflection made it clear that it was not going to be easy this time.

“Y/N,” uh-oh, “you’re not letting yourself get sick for me, right?” As you readied your toothbrush, you heard him stand and shuffle closer to you. “Because you know how much that’d hurt me, right?”

“This has nothing to do with death, Beej.”

“Good, then you’re going.” Your fingers were beginning to tremble.

“Beej–”

“No! Something’s wrong, and if anything happens to you–”

You threw the toothbrush down into the sink. “Damnit Beetlejuice, I’m pregnant!”

Silence.

Beetlejuice stilled, staring at you with an unreadable expression, but something like fear was creeping into his eyes. “What?”

“I…I’m pregnant.” Your stomach dropped and a cold sweat that had nothing to do with nausea washed over you as you watched his hair fade to black. A purple sheen blinked at you when he looked away.

“That’s impossible,” Beetlejuice muttered.

“…apparently it’s not.” You took half a step towards him with your hand outstretched.

The demon still wouldn’t look at you, but he pulled back. You froze. “I’m dead, Y/N, I can’t–”

“Beej…”

“How could you–no. Of course you’d cheat on me.”

“I didn’t,” you breathed. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Beej, I wouldn’t do that to me. Look at me.”

Ignoring his silent protests, you stepped right up to him. With one hand you lifted his chin so he had no choice but to look at you, and you rested your other hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know if it’s because you’re a demon and now I’m carrying the antichrist, or if we messed with some magic somehow, or what, but–hey.” A single tear freed itself from Beetlejuice’s eye. You gently wiped it away. “We’re pregnant, Beetlejuice. He’s yours.”

“He?”

You gave him a small smile. “You’ve seen my family tree, love, it’s gonna be a boy.” Slowly, you watched some green and a hint of pink work its way into his hair.

“There’s gonna be a baby.” Feeling prickling in your throat, you nodded. “I’m gonna be a daddy!” With that, he grabbed you, yanked you close, and pressed his lips to yours. Before you could remind him that you still hadn’t brushed your teeth, Beetlejuice was dipping you and kissing you like you were his new passion project.

Then you remembered who was kissing you. He wouldn’t mind your vomit mouth.

Beetlejuice did not leave your side for the next eight and-a-half months. Invisible, he accompanied you to every appointment. He poked fun at you when you went grocery shopping late at night because you really needed jalapeño chips and chocolate milk. The Deetzes spend plenty of time at your apartment, helping you prepare the space and, in Charles’s case, giving you investment advice so you’d be able to buy a house by the time the baby was old enough to stop co-sleeping. (Beetlejuice would not hear of a crib; his child would co-sleep, demonic tendencies be literally damned.) Even when you begged Beetlejuice for just an hour alone, he would only sulk off to your tiny office to work on arranging it into a nursery.

Before the baby, you and Beetlejuice hadn’t fought much. It was rare for either of you to raise your voice. Most of your arguments consisted of you telling Beetlejuice he had done something wrong, him taking your word for it and giving you a half-assed apology, and conveniently forgetting to promise to never do whatever he had done again. Now, he was practically a golden retriever. Gone were the long nights of him growling through bared teeth, beating him over the head with your point, rough make-up sex. You knew you could be prideful at times, but even you had to admit that the demon had hardly done anything…demonic since you told him you were pregnant.

Then came the delivery plan.

“We’re having a hospital birth, Y/N.”

“Beetlejuice, no. If we have a hospital birth, you won’t be there!” you called after him as he walked away from you, into the living room of your apartment.

“Sure I’ll be.”

“You know what I mean. No-one will be able to see you, you won’t even be able to hold him.”

Beetlejuice stopped and swallowed, but recovered quickly. “At least you’ll be safe if something goes wrong.”

You scoffed. “I think you’re stuck in the wrong century. If we’re trained, and we have friends who are trained–”

“Friends like who? Two ghosts and a new age hippie?”

“Like two almost-parents and a detail-oriented fountain of internet info?”

“What if he’s got horns? What if he hurts you?”

“You think a doctor’s gonna be prepared for a demon-child?” By now, Beetlejuice’s hair was as red as your face. “No! They’re gonna take one look at him and we’ll never see him again!”

“You’re safer in a hospital!” There was a note of finality in Beetlejuice’s voice when he spoke.

You weren’t having it. “He’s safer here!”

“Y/N–”

“Would you hurt me?”

Beetlejuice blanched. “Wh–what?”

“Would you?” you demanded. He shook his head slowly. “Would you let me get hurt?” More sure now, he shook his head again. “Then stop fighting me on this.” You walked right up to Beetlejuice and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. Your thirty-seven-week belly bumped up against him. “Beetlejuice, it’s my body. We are having a home birth. If anything goes wrong, Delia and Charles will be on standby to take me to the hospital.” Beetlejuice sighed as he gave in. Looking back on it, you could have played the My Body, My Choice card much earlier on, when the argument was still a conversation. As long as he listened, you supposed, that was all that mattered.

Beetlejuice took your hands from his jacket. He dropped to his knees and took gentle hold of your stomach, kissing your baby bump. Almost immediately, the demon reeled back, rubbing his mouth. He looked up at you with mirth in his eyes and a pout on his lips.

“He kicked me in the mouth!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “He must agree with me.” Beetlejuice gave you a playful scowl, and turned on his ass when you heard a cough from the corner.

“Sorry, we let ourselves in,” came Barbara’s sweet voice.

“Oh!” You felt an uncomfortable heat rise to your face. “How much did you hear?”

“No worries, Y/N,” Adam reassured you. “Sometimes Barbara and I work ourselves into quite the twist. We understand.”

Your demon boyfriend gave a cheeky smirk and laughed lightly. “A twist,” he echoed. Before you could stop him, Beetlejuice was floating over to the couple before raising himself to his feet just in front of Adam. “That is just so cute.” Adam, having learned by now, was barely able to duck out of Beetlejuice’s grasp.

“Beej,” you warned playfully. You looked back at Barbara while Beetlejuice reluctantly returned to your side. “I thought Miss Argentina said you weren’t coming until next week?”

“Well, we wanted to surprise you with something. Charles returned it to us few months ago, and Adam’s been restoring it.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t wait any longer,” Adam explained, heading for the front door through the kitchen.

You laughed through your confusion. “Okay…?” Adam disappeared through the kitchen for a moment. When he returned to the living room, he was carrying a handsome black crib. He set it down in front of you. “Oh,” you gasped.

The crib was dark and polished, with a black and white striped fitted sheet and a matching stuffed animal that looked an awful lot like the sandworms Beetlejuice had told you about. You drifted forward to feel the sidebars. They were smooth and soft and warm, as though the fact that they had been restored by a ghost could do nothing to dull his intentions.

“Originally, it was a really beautiful maple–”

“But, we thought black might be more appropriate,” Barbara interrupted her husband. “I made the little sandworm stuffy and Delia found the sheet.”

When you looked up, the Maitlands were watching you, waiting for your reaction. Your throat was choking up rapidly, but you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around each of them. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your voice was muffled against Barbara’s shoulder, but you were sure they heard you. They both wrapped their cold arms around you carefully.

“Get in here,” Barbara said. For a moment you were confused, but then Beetlejuice walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around all of you. He muttered something about co-sleeping, but you didn’t catch what it was.

The next few hours were a blur that began with a rush of fluid down your legs and ended with abnormally loud cries.

Later, you would be shocked that the Deetzes didn’t receive a speeding ticket. The Maitlands let them into your apartment while you nearly broke Beetlejuice’s fingers. He didn’t know what to say, but he was there for you. Lydia and Delia made you a nest, Beetlejuice and Barbara held your hands, Charles and Adam…well, you lost track of them, but they were there. That was all that mattered.

As it turns out, half-demon labor is remarkably fast. You tried to breathe. You tried not to scream. You focused on Beetlejuice’s voice as he tried to coach you through it. Less than three hours later, Delia was wiping your face and telling you what a good job you had done.

“Where is he?” you breathed once you could finally speak. Beetlejuice was leaning his face against the side of your head, not leaving it when you looked up. Barbara was coming towards you, and you’d swear there was a glow around her as she beamed down at you.

“Congratulations,” she said, handing you a bundle of blankets and crimson hair and screaming. “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” you and Beetlejuice asked in unison. Barbara chuckled and helped you take hold of your daughter. The tears were sliding down your face before you realized you were crying.

“She looks like me,” Beetlejuice said. Immediately, your baby’s gaze traveled up to him, her cries quieting. You breathed a laugh, not taking your eyes off of her. He was right. Her hair was rapidly changing color, her eyes were already golden. But she had your blush, your life. Half-demon, but oh, so human.

“Well, thank God for you.” You paused for a moment. “We should figure out her name.” In seconds, you were surrounded by laughter– even from the men. You were so warm, even in Beetlejuice’s arms. Every single person you both loved was in your home. You shook your head in wonder, staring down at your baby girl. “She’s amazing.”

Buy Me a Coffee?

[sxnnimoon]

Always & Forever

*** Hey y’all! Sorry it’s taken a bit for part 2 but here it is. Part 2 of First For Everything. This part continues from the last but maybe i’ll do a part 3 if needed, but as always hope you all enjoy this one!***

Michael Langdon x Reader

Warning- none

Summary- part 2 of FFE , You’re aunt Madelyn brings home this boy who you take a liking to and things escalate but he wants more than just a one time thing. Will you stay with him or will you run off and help him with what is to be planned for the future?

__________________________________________

***Flashback***

“We should do it again sometime.” he said.

“I would love to but I leave tomorrow.” you said looking away.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” he said.

“I’m headed to New Orleans tomorrow.” you could tell he was upset. “I’ve been accepted into this school for witches.”

“The one ran by Coredelia?” he asked.

“Yes?” you questioned. “Why do you ask?”

“You can’t go there,” he said firmly.

“Why?” you were scared but curious.

“They are the reason I have nowhere to go, they are the ones that took away my Ms.Mead.” he started to tear up.

“Is it because of who you are?” you asked.

“It is because I am the one who can take them down, I am more powerful than they are combined.” he stated. “Stay with me and help me avenge what is mine.”

***End Flashback***

“You want me to what? Runaway with you?” you exclaimed.

“I don’t want you to leave my side. I want you as my queen to rule beside me throughout what is to come.” he said proudly.

“What’s your plan then?” you asked.

“That’s just it. I’m stuck on exactly where I need to start. I’m lost without my Ms. Mead.” he looked away.

“I know a place.” you said walking out of the room.

**Few days later**

 With the help of my aunt, we called the one place we knew Michael would get answers from. 

“Jeff & Mutt Enterprises Inc.?” Michael questioned.   

“They’ll help you just as much as my niece will.” Madelyn said looking at me. “You will do great things by his side.” she held my face.

“I will miss you.” you said a single tear falling down your face. You turned to Michael. 

“We should go.” leading him away. As you both walk away. Your mind is torn with what will happen to your aunt once the apocalypse happens. She needs to be at peace. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you said looking at Michael.

“Anything.” he spoke softly.

“When this whole apocalypse starts can you put a good word in with your father for Madelyn. She's all I have and I want some good to come from her death.” you said sincere. 

“I can see what I can do.” he smiled. “I will handle her situation, but for now focus on us and our future.” he said kissing your forehead.

You’d known Jeff and Mutt from the few times you went to black mass with madelyn and because you worked for them for two years. They were a few years older than you but boy did they act like children sometimes. It’s amazing the devil himself granted them all their success. But they are Michaels best bet to figuring out what it is he needs to do next. Their assistant Ms.Venable was a sight for sore eyes. She wasn’t the nicest but she did her job well. She told you both where to go not without giving a hard stare that made you feel like you used to those years back. 

“Dude, what's up? We’re dying to meet you.” Mutt said. “Madelyn has said a lot about you, same goes for Y/n. They seem totally convinced you are the one.” 

“Not to offend you but I thought you’d be a bit more jacked.” Jeff said. 

“So what was your name again.” Mutt asked. 

“Michael. Langdon. Michael Langdon.” he finally spoke.

“That’s just a little bit weak, right?” Mutt said. 

Jeff and Mutt began joking around about his name but Michael didn’t take it well and decided to walk out. But you stopped him and told him it was alright, that he didn’t need to be upset and listen to them. You’d finally spoken up seeing as they hadn’t noticed your presence starling them.

“That is enough.” you boomed. “Might you both act your age and be a little bit professional towards him. 

“He-ey , hey Y/n didn’t see you there. When did you get there.” Jeff spoke.

“If you two coke heads would have opened your eyes a bit you would have noticed me but instead you were too busy making asses of yourselves.” you said.

“Well we-we-we believe him, it’s just we thought we’d be pissing ourselves or something.” Mutt said.

“I mean, how do we even know he’s the Antichrist?” Jeff said. 

Mutt agreed with him. Michael then processed to walk towards them showing them the mark. 

“That’s cool but it’s just a tattoo on your scalp.” Mutt spoke.

Of course they weren’t convinced yet, that was until the call girl in the room began to freak out when Michael looked at her. 

“No. It’s true. I can feel the darkness. And it’s making me sick and coming from him.” she said frantic trying to run. That was until Michael set her a flame. You chuckled at the looks on their faces. Both filled with fear yet couldn’t believe their eyes.

“Holy shit!” they both exclaimed. 

Michael then showed them his face and they immediately bowed down to him. 

“You believe him now?” you chuckled. 

They both looked at you and then put their heads down. You all then went to their office to discuss what it is Michael needs and needs to do from here on out. They’d all been talking and then Michael brought up Miriam. You knew they’d be able to build a replica of her but they’d need Michael's help in the long run with her. 

Michael was thriving now that he had Miriam back. It was good to see him smile from someone other than you. But you knew he’d need to further his plans. Michael looked at you and you could tell he had some plan cooking in his head. 

“New Orleans. We leave tonight.” that's all he had to say for you to know the witches were in for a hell of a ride.

New Orleans was beautiful, you’d been a few times. That's not the reason you were here. You were standing in front of the school but something felt off. “Something's off. Magic protects the grounds.” you said feeling it all around. “It’s a barrier of protection. Far too powerful for a normal witch.”

“And you are a normal witch?” Mead questioned.

“Far from it my dear, but I'll need your help a bit Michael to gain max energy.” you spoke.

“Anything for you.” he said, kissing you.

You’d broken the barrier, entering without them noticing. They’d just begun practicing some protection spell. Michael entered first.

“Clearly that mantras bullshit.” he said startling them. “Oh come on, you can’t be that surprised to see me.” 

“Cordelia knows what I am to do to you all. I have deaths to avenge.” he said. 

You could sense all their fear. But then you felt one's energy to attack Michael. You stepped in. Throwing back whatever it was they were to use against him. Killing some. Mead then walked in. Ready to kill. 

“I was made for this.” was all she said before shooting at those still alive in the room. One tried to off Mead but ended up shot dead. Voodoo dolls I see. You walked out of the room, feeling for energy of those we needed most. Michael followed you to a room that was locked. He’d busted it down but no one was inside. He was definitely mad. You all reconvened back at Meads. Michael was angry. He wanted blood, but not of those who were shed today. Mead began speaking about what it is he needs to do next. You’d thought it weird how going back to Jeff and Mutt so you took matters into your own hands. 

“I get what you are saying but let me take you to a place, you’ve given me an idea,” you spoke. 

“And what is it you have to say.” Mead spoke. 

“Jeff and Mutt don’t have the high status like I do with this organization.” you said.

“Well, what's it called.” Michael said intrigued. 

“It’s called the Cooperative, you may know it as something else but the point is, that they can help more than we know.” you exclaimed.

The next thing you knew you were in a room with all of those apart of the organization. The meeting went great, we’ve set up bunkers around for only the elite, the chosen ones. Or well those that pay a generous amount to remain safe. Michael has placed me and Mead with Venable at his old school, probably the safest place of all as it’s underground. You just weren’t expecting that Michael was going to clear any memory of him from Mead, let alone you. 

“Please don’t do this,” you cried. “I love you.”

“When the time is right, We will meet again.” he spoke sincerely. “I love you always. Always and Forever.”

[7-wonders]

Some Kind of Drug

Summary: Michael deals with his rejection in a much different way than most other people.

Word Count: 2548

A/N: Welcome back to Mad Love, friends! Sorry it’s taken so long, but life happens. Hopefully I’ll be able to post this now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and if you enjoyed I would love if you would like, comment and reblog. Shoot me an ask about this, my other works, or just anything!

(p.s....cw for blood ritual)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE | Read Everything All At Once (part ten) HERE | Read Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) (part eleven) HERE

Flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls of the chamber as Michael moves around, making sure that everything’s in the exact position he needs it to be in order to conduct his ritual. Communicating with his father in this way is not new to him, but it is something that he’s neglected since you came into his life. Now, however, Michael’s done playing your games. He’s been patient with you, allowing you to determine the speed of the relationship. Sooner or later, he figured, you would stop fighting what your soul knows to be true and give into him. Obviously, he had vastly underestimated you.

He hardly flinches as he makes deep cuts down the length of his arms, watching with silent concentration as the thick blood quickly starts to pool on the ground beneath him. Falling to his knees, he starts to use the blood to paint an upside-down pentagram. The movements are almost robotic-like now, becoming second nature after so many years. The Latin that Michael’s chanting falls off of his lips with ease, the words echoing through the empty air.

“May you rise from the void, Father,” Michael says, switching to plain English as he begins to complete the summoning. “May your darkness guide me, power in Satan to overcome my weaknesses. Power in your name, strong within.”

A humming, high-pitched and ceaseless, sounds in Michael’s ears as his vision dances with spots. Every single sense is being assaulted as his demonic, Satanic nature takes the wheel. The candles begin to roar with each second that passes, the fervor building in Michael’s veins as he waits with bated breath for Satan to arrive. The bloody pentagram bubbles underneath him as the height of the flames reaches to the ceiling, unchanged by the sudden wind that whips through the room. When the wind stops just as unexpectedly as it started, the air growing stiflingly still, Michael looks up with pitch black eyes.

“Ave Satanas.”

To the normal human eye, nothing is in the chamber with Michael. To the son of Satan, however, his father stands just behind him, a ghost-like touch on his shoulder as he whispers into the ear of his son, the same ear that’s burned with the Mark of the Beast. The humming starts up again, but to Michael it registers as words.

“Father,” he calls, “I request your guidance! You’ve...tortured me with these images, visions of a future that I will have.”

He’s been plagued with these visions for months now, long before Ms. Mead stuck that needle into your neck. They often come to Michael in the form of dreams, but he has been known to collapse to the floor as he’s taken over by a premonition. They’re always vivid, and they’re always of you and Michael. Michael, holding you as a husband should hold his wife. 

Kissing you.

Making love to you.

In his visions, you rule alongside him. The new world has been ushered in, with Michael as its king and you as its queen. You love each other unconditionally, just as it should be. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

(Usually, he’s holding onto at least one curly-haired blonde cherub, and you’re almost always pregnant with another. That desperate need for a family, however, can wait. First, he needs to win over your mind.)

“Her will is strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. Our souls were created for one another, yet she continues to deny what is inevitable. The bonding ritual from the night of our wedding was a failure, and she continues to spurn any of my advances. I’m lost, Father. How am I supposed to complete your plans if I do not wholly have the one person who is supposed to be at my side during all of this?”

“Perhaps something more...permanent?” Satan’s voice sounds preternaturally deep in Michael’s ear, and he has to hide a shiver.

“I promised (Y/N) that I wouldn’t use magic on her without her permission.”

“And you won’t.” Michael’s arm is raised by an invisible force, palm facing upwards as his hand is outstretched. An apple, bright red and almost perfectly shaped, appears in his grip.

“I don’t understand what this will help with.”

Satan remains silent, allowing a vision to play out in front of Michael’s eyes as a response. Michael watches as you appear in front of him, silently asking for the apple with a familiar tilt of your head. He hands it to you, your shimmering mirage-like form holding it as if you’re actually there. You take a large bite out of the apple, Michael nearly moaning as he watches the juice dribble past your full lips and down your chin in a near-erotic scene.

There’s no sound coming from you as you gasp, the apple landing heavily on the ground. Your expression changes, and you blink rapidly, as if trying to see through a thick fog. When your eyes meet Michael’s, you smile softly. Michael’s frozen, enraptured as you approach him and sit in his lap, not at all bothered by his lack of clothes. Your arms loop around his neck, and Michael can almost feel the heat of your breath as you begin to lean in. Right as your lips are about to connect with his, you disappear as suddenly as you appeared.

“So it’s--” Michael’s chest is heaving, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Nothing that will harm her. One bite of this apple and she will be yours, my son. Body, mind, and soul.”

Michael could almost just take the apple and run, but something is stopping him. “That’s still using magic on her, whether or not it’s mine.”

“I bring a gift for you, and this is how you repay me? With ignorant questions and flippant reactions?”

“No Father, I’m extremely grateful.”

“Then take the gift. If anything, do not think of this as magic. Think of it--”

The dream (or maybe a nightmare) is the kind that’s forgotten as soon as you shoot up in bed with a gasp. You know that it was extremely vivid, your heart still pounding as you grab your phone to turn your alarm off, but you can’t remember the specifics. Lots of candles and Michael are the only things you’re sure were a part of your dream, but those could be used in any setting. Michael knocking over a candle and setting the house on fire? Celebrating Michael’s birthday? Lighting fireworks with Michael?

You shake your head, hoping maybe that will clear the fuzzy feeling in your brain like it clears an Etch-a-Sketch. You’re disoriented, like you slept for twenty hours instead of the eight or so that you normally do. Intense dreams tend to do that to you, so you’re careful with yourself as you crawl out of bed and head for the shower.

Even after you’ve washed the remnants of a restless sleep off of you, you still feel...off. You’re not sure if it’s related to the dream that you can’t remember, but you just feel weird today, like the world’s just slightly tilted on its axis and you’re the only one who notices it. Staring at your face in the steamed-over mirror as you comb through your hair, you frown slightly at yourself.

“Get it together, (Y/N),” you mutter to your reflection, watching as she says the words back to you at the same time. Swiping a towel over the mirror to clear it up, you shoot a couple of half-hearted finger guns at yourself before deciding that you need to stop procrastinating before you’re late. 

Michael, surprisingly, is leaning against the counter when you make your way into the kitchen. Normally he’s already in his office by this time, so to see him eating a bagel while scrolling through his phone is jarring. 

“Um, good morning?” you say, thrown off by this change in his ever-strict schedule. He must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you greet him.

“(Y/N)!” He straightens up, trying to act like you didn’t just scare him. “You really are getting better at sneaking up on me.”

“Damn, and I wasn’t even trying.” You jokingly shoulder check him as you pass by, hearing him snicker under his breath.

“Do you nanny the two girls today?”

“No, I have to meet with my advisor on campus.”

“I thought class didn’t start for another couple of weeks?”

“It doesn’t, and please don’t remind me,” you groan, looking forlornly into the fridge. “This summer went by way too fast, I feel like I didn’t even get to do anything!”

“You would have been able to enjoy your summer if you had heeded my advice and not taken a job,” Michael points out, falling silent when you shoot him a withering glance.

“You may be the Antichrist, but I’ll still kick your ass if given the chance.” There’s nothing that appeals to you in the fridge, so you begrudgingly shut the door and look around for something that you can eat quick before running off to campus. “What are you up to today? Meeting with Putin?”

“The ghost of Josef Stalin, actually.” Michael smiles when you laugh loudly.

“Ah, well, be sure to break the bad news of the fall of Communism gently.”

“I’ll try, but my Russian’s pretty basic, at best.” 

Nodding as if you understand the downfalls of only being passing in the Russian language, your eyes fall on the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. Although all of the fruit looks pretty appetizing, the particular apple sitting at the top is practically calling your name. It’s shiny and bright red, and looks as if it was just picked out of a tree. The feeling that something’s off returns with a full force, making you pause right as you’re about to grab the apple. Figuring that you’re just hungry, you shake it off and take the fruit from the bowl.

Running it under some water, you look at Michael with a questioning glance when you feel him staring at you. “Do you have a problem with me eating this apple?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he says quickly. “Just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“O...kay?” He still watches you as you turn the water off, shaking the apple dry and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why?”

“You just seem off today. Then again, maybe it’s the moon or something, because I’ve felt weird all morning, too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I had a really vivid dream last night, and I still haven’t been able to get over it.”

“Hmm, what was it about?” Michael’s mind is fighting a battle with his nature as he anxiously watches you toss the apple in the air before setting it down on the counter to grab a glass of water. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember. All I remember is that it involved you and some candles.” Michael’s pretty sure his heart stops, automatically knowing that you somehow inadvertently had a front-row seat to the ritual with his father. “I don’t know, maybe it involved you setting the house on fire?”

“Why would I ever set the house on fire?”

“Hey, I never said you did it on purpose! You could’ve dropped a candle? Can’t you light things on fire with your magic? Maybe you just got too excited.”

“Okay, you’re making me nervous talking about the different ways I could burn the house down.” He’s nervous for a few reasons right now, but you don’t need to know that. 

“And here I thought you couldn’t get nervous,” you tease.

For Michael, the next two seconds happen slow enough to make it feel like two minutes. He watches as you raise the apple to your mouth, heart jumping in his chest with a mix of glee and horror. Finally, it’s happening. He should be happy about this; he is happy about this, but he can’t deny how he guilty he feels. Still, he attempts to argue with himself, it’s not like you’re forcing her to love you. You’re just helping her to see what her soul knows.

But I’m making her feel that before she’s ready to acknowledge it, he fires back.

She’s had months now to acknowledge it! It’s time to speed things along.

The time that Michael spends debating with himself, he finds, is precious time lost. Instead of coming to a decision, you make the decision for him by biting into the apple. He stifles a gasp, feigning a cough instead as he waits for the inevitable to occur. The inevitable, however, occurs much slower than he was led to believe. One, two, and three bites are taken before Michael remembers how to speak. 

“(Y/N)?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah?” He’ll forgive the fact that you talked with food in your mouth this time, since there are bigger worries at hand.

“Are you...feeling alright?” You eyes widen, and Michael’s sure that the magic’s taken effect. 

Then, you roll your eyes. “Perfectly fine, unless you poisoned the apples a la Snow White?”

“I was just curious.” You shake your head slowly, obviously not believing him.

“And I thought I was going to be the weird one today,” you mutter under your breath, checking the time and grabbing your bag like you would any other morning. “I gotta go. Don’t light the house on fire while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’m not planning on it,” Michael says, still in disbelief that you’re acting completely normal.

With a cheeky smile and a sarcastic wave, you’re out the door with a “bye, Mikey!” He doesn’t even bother to correct you on the nickname, standing in the kitchen in a frozen stupor as he tries to figure out what just happened.

Michael rushes over to the fruit bowl, unsure of if you grabbed the wrong piece of fruit or if you’re just impervious to any sort of mind-affecting magic. Flipping the bowl over, the various apples and oranges scatter across the counter. He allows the tendrils of his magic to extend out like extra limbs, hands grasping for each apple that he can find. Finally he feels it, the magic that fully coats the apple as if it’s caramel being drizzled on top. Michael cries out in relief, examining the apple to make sure it really is the one that was given to him by his father. 

With one look, the apple’s incinerated until there’s nothing but a small pile of ashes in Michael’s hand. He turns on the faucet, washing his hands of the ashes and keeping the water running until he’s sure that any trace of the rotten plan is down the drain, both figuratively and literally. Leaning against the counter, Michael flicks his wrist to put the bowl back on the counter like nothing ever happened.

He got lucky this time. Satan influences Michael, injecting himself into his son’s veins and manipulating him until he’s something he doesn’t recognize, something villainous and evil. He almost let the Devil do it again, only this time it involved you. “Never again,” Michael mutters, determined to escape the clutches of his father. 

Evil, however, comes in many different forms.

//

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[ahsbitch]

wait you take requests? awesome! does that mean you'll write, like, blurbs and stuff? bc i would Love just a quick smutty blurb/drabble/whatever with Michael and hickeys, if you wouldn't mind. I was thinking maybe F&R! or maybe Outpost! but it's totally up to you! do you write blurbs? if you don't take requests in this format then just completely disregard this ask lol

I’ve never actually written a blurb before (I tend to be kinda long winded lol) but! I’m absolutely willing to give it a shot any time someone wants one! I felt like I just had to go with Fire & Reign on this one, y’know? I hope this is what you were looking for!! (Is it even actually a blurb? IDK. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael Langdon had a tendency to be a bit possessive.

After all, he was powerful. He was smart, magically gifted, for fuck’s sake he was the Antichrist, he was working on bringing about the end of the world. He was strong. He could fuck you up, majorly, if and when he wanted to.

You knew that, you did, and you knew how dangerous it was to mess with him, but fuck, it could just be so much fun.

Which was why you flirted with other men, on occasion.

Just for fun.

Just to see his reaction.

The general reaction? Angry.

“You think you’re pretty clever, do you?” Michael snarled, slamming you against his desk roughly, “You think it’s funny to act like a whore in front of the members of the Cooperative? My subordinates? What exactly do you hope to gain from that?”

You shrugged, knowing you probably shouldn’t say anything, but he held your hips tightly, grinding ever so slightly against, just enough to make you desperate, and you strained forward, nipping playfully at his throat, “I like knowing I have your full attention.”

He gave a derisive laugh, pulling away from you completely, his eyes glinting as he watched you slump back, “That’s it, huh? Attention? I’ll give you attention, and anyone who looks at you is gonna know that you are mine, you understand?” Whimpering, you nodded, allowing him to tug you to your feet and rip your dress off of you. Before you were sure what was happening, you were against the desk again, and Michael’s teeth were sunk into your neck.

“Fuck,” You hissed, digging your hands into his shoulders, “Not so hard, Michael!”

A growl rippled its way, from the back of his throat, and you trembled as it hit your skin, Michael becoming suddenly frantic, sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin, coating your throat, lining neatly along your collarbones, covering the soft swells of your breasts, which he massaged roughly as he worked, thumbs dancing over your nipples.

When he finally pulled away, there was a dangerous look still in his eyes as he placed his hands firmly on your hips, “I’m not sure what it is that gave you the impression that you were in charge, that you can make demands, but I assure you,” He flipped you around, pressing you forward so you bent over the desk, and dropped to his knees, all so quickly that it was dizzying, and he continued his attack on your thighs and ass, his tongue occasionally surging forward to give your pussy long, urgent licks, “You are completely at my mercy, my love.”

And you were at his mercy, you knew you were. You thought it to yourself, struggling to keep your mind from drifting off into a pleasure filled haze, your attempts to grind yourself against his face only resulting in you being pressed harder against the desk, surely decorating you with its own bruises against your hip bones.

He spoke occasionally, although his mouth was mostly busy, he murmured against your skin as he went, “You're mine, don’t forget that. Your body is mine. Your soul is mine. You think that acting like a desperate slut gets you more of my attention, but it doesn’t. You’re always in my head. Pathetic, needy thing, I’m sure you could cum just from this, just from my words and my mouth on your skin. I could make you cum with anything I do. I could kill you, fucking incinerate you, and it’d probably still get you all hot and bothered, wouldn’t it? You’re mine, and I’m gonna mark you up so that maybe now you’ll remember your fucking place.”

Michael’s thumbs danced once more, rolling along your clit as he worked, slowly moving his way upwards to a point about halfway up your back, up either side of your spine, and then finally you heard him tug at his zipper, pulling his hardened dick out of his pants and pushing into you all in one slick motion.

“Ah,” He sighed, rolling his nose against the juts of your spine, “That’s it. This is why I bother to keep you around.”

Setting a brutal pace, Michael pounded into you, thrusting deeper each time you let out a cry, relishing in the way you shrieked and wailed.

His mouth was not idle for long, meeting where the trail of hickeys had left off and making many more, and you wondered absently to yourself what exactly he was doing, why it felt like there was some type of pattern to his movements.

When Michael had finished, he pressed a kiss to the center of your back, and just when you were on the edge of bliss, he pulled himself out of you, jerking fervently until he came onto your back, the first hot gush hitting where his kiss had just been laid.

“Michael!” You cried, turning just in time to see him slipping his cock back into his boxers, “Really? You’re still mad?”

He chuckled, wrapping a hand around your waist to pull you close, a wolfish grin covering his face at the way you flinched at the contact with your fresh bruises, and he touched the corners of your lips with quick, fluttering kisses, “Not so much anymore. I’ve made a masterpiece. Besides, darling, were you really hoping to cum? You should know better,” He tutted, a taunting glimmer in his eyes, “And why should you even need to? You pleasured me. That should be enough pleasure for you, in and of itself, should it not?”

You rolled your eyes at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away, “Whatever you say, Michael.”

A gold framed, full length mirror sat in the corner of Michael’s office, and as you caught a peek of your appearance-fuck, you were absolutely wrecked-you turned yourself to the side curiously, trying to see how the hickeys were painted across your skin.

You turned back to Michael, smiling, heart fluttering, when you realized that the chain of bruises, all brilliant shades of pinks and reds and purples and blues, formed a heart.

[katie-the-bug]

God is my least favorite fictional character

Finally we reach Armageddon, the second-to-last book in the main Left Behind series. This one's actually kind of upsetting, though not for any reason the authors intended.

The cast:

The Tribulation Force: Rayford Steele, pilot; Buck Williams, journalist; Chloe Williams, organizer; Kenny Williams, infant; Tsion Ben-Judah, the greatest evangelist evah; Chaim Rosenzweig, Israeli convert; Mac McCullum, backup pilot; Abdullah Smith, backup to the backup pilot; Albie, former black-marketer, espionage expert; Chang Wong, IT guy; Naomi Tiberias, IT girl.

The Global Community: Nicolae Carpathia, Antichrist, risen lord and deity of the GC; Leon Fortunato, Satan's little helper; Viv Ivins, role unclear.

We open with Rayford, Abdullah, and Naomi going to New Babylon to retrieve Chang during a plague of darkness that only affects nonbelievers in the city. At the airport, Rayford meets a woman with the Mark of the Beast who's praying for God's help. Rayford is confused and tells her that her case is hopeless, even telling her that "God loved you," emphasis mine on the fucking PAST TENSE. It's good thing these books have never claimed that God's love is unconditional, because clearly God only cares for people who devote themselves to him before a deadline he will never make clear.

Rayford is even aware that God's rejection of this poor woman doesn't work out with the idea that God is loving and merciful, but it never occurs to him that maybe somebody's lying.

We learn that the family of Nicolae's secretary Krystall, who has taken the Mark, is harboring an "Uncle Gregory" who has refused to take the Mark. She hears Rayford in her office, but agrees to keep his presence a secret in exchange for information that will help her uncle avoid damnation. Here she is, helping believers at risk of death at the hands of an overzealous regime, but does God have any mercy for her? No!

Rayford and Abdullah take advantage of the darkness to straight-up walk into a meeting with Nicolae's highest officials. Leon calls the roll, and Abdullah expresses a temptation to call out his own name, just to confuse people. In the absence of any better options, I think Abdullah is my favorite character.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Chloe wanders out of her secure and well-hidden bunker to investigate some GC who have parked nearby. To nobody's surprise, she gets captured.

Albie, who used to be a pre-eminent black marketer, returns to the black market to hire a mercenary businessman and known killer of believers to bug Nicolae's new office. When he meets with the man, he's getting a tattoo that Albie knows commemorates a murder, and he even explains that sometimes he gets those tattoos in advance. To nobody's surprise, Albie gets killed.

Chang complains about his Mark of the Beast, which was applied to him while he was drugged a few books ago, and Tsion reassures him that it was "forced on you," thus Chang can still go to heaven. In a sane world, being threatened to do something under penalty of death if you refuse, which are the exact terms under which many others have received the Mark, would also constitute being forced, but the world of Left Behind is hardly sane.

Naomi tells her conversion story, and Chang remarks that he's heard many and "each one is unique." They're really not though. Every conversion story in this series goes something like this: "I was living a nice life and I didn't think much about Jesus. Then someone close to me told me I had to say some magic words or I would be Left Behind (TM). I ignored them, and then a few days later the Rapture happened. Then I realized I had been Left Behind (TM) and converted."

The Middle Eastern Abdullah is described at one point as "ethnic." Just once, I would like to see a white guy described as "ethnic."

The characters periodically get information from Krystall, who, to reiterate, has the Mark of the Beast and is thus damned. They don't mourn her eternal fate, they don't wonder why God couldn't save her - she's going to Hell and they're fine with that. God and his people will use this woman for all she's worth and then throw her away when they're done.

Chloe spends several chapters in prison, undergoing interrogation and awaiting her execution. This is the first time we've actually sat and thought about a character death - every other time, it's happened suddenly and often pointlessly, without reflection from the authors or characters. We hear Chloe's thought about her impending death and we see Buck trying every possible resource for way to save her, and it's actually somewhat moving. The emotions are dampened by the contrived circumstances, but still.

While Chloe and a number of others are being executed, an angel shows up to tell people to convert, and later blinds cameras and spectators with a bright light so nobody actually sees believers dying. That's nice and all, but if there's an angel right there, why not save the people who are about to die? Chloe's right there, about to die for believing in God, and God's just going to sit there and watch it happen.

We periodically hear about how Jewish people are being tortured in concentration camps, but, despite how much hype Nicolae's antisemitism is getting, the plight of Jewish people in this book is an afterthought.

Tsion addresses the question of how God can be loving and merciful and also kill billions with cataclysms. "What else could he have done...to shake men and women from their false sense of security and get them to look to him for mercy and forgiveness?" I dunno, talked to them maybe? Make a public service announcement? Put up posters? Literally anything that doesn't involve killing people?

Nicolae calls a meeting of his world leaders, who each wear a "themed outfit from his or her respective region." Namely, the South American leader has a sombrero, the Asian leader wears a kimono, and the North American leader has a cowboy hat. I would love for this book to be made into a movie so that everyone can see just how ridiculous this would look.

Lucifer, through Nicolae, gives his own account of creation - he, God, Jesus, and the angels, all the same type of entity, naturally emerged from primordial chaos, only for God and Jesus to claim leadership and banish Lucifer for asking too many questions. I know the authors want us to see this as obvious lies, but none of the characters were there at the beginning of time to see what really happened - it's the word of one evil cosmic entity against another, and there's no way to verify the truth. This gets at a question I have for people who claim to have knowledge given to them by gods - even if you can prove those gods are real, how do you know they're telling the truth?

Lucifer takes credit for attempts to wipe out the Jewish people throughout history and says he was foiled when God and Jesus "gave them back their own land." Nothing like a little Christian Zionism in the evening to put you off your dinner.

Discussing the powerful armaments possessed by the Global Community, Nicolae remarks "We do not want or need to destroy the planet." Yeah, God will take care of that.

It's mentioned that a third of the remaining Jewish population will convert to Christianity. Specifically, a third will convert and the rest will "be cut off and die." I assume the authors think that being God's chosen people doesn't save Jewish people from going to Hell when they die.

Tsion claims that they will soon be fighting "The War of the Great Day of God the Almighty." No. You'll be fighting the Battle of Armageddon and like it.

The GC army sent to take Petra and Jerusalem includes two hundred thousand horsemen. I understand that the Bible says that there will be horses, but this makes no real-world sense. Ignoring the fact that, barring extenuating circumstances, any sensible military person will choose a car over a horse...where are they getting that many horses? Between earthquakes, asteroid strikes, droughts, disease, and things spontaneously combusting, there shouldn't be anything left alive on the planet, let alone two hundred thousand battle-ready horses. Are they pulling these horses from the Horse Dimension? Is that what they're doing?

Rayford refers to the coming army of God as "the Calvary cavalry," and another character rightly replies "Too much time on your hands."

Tsion's insistence on being on the front lines in Jerusalem gets him killed. Good.

The book ends with both Buck and Rayford mortally injured, and we get a description of one of them - it never gives a name - bleeding out and dying. That's actually an okay cliffhanger - at least we know somebody's actually dead for once.

I can only assume the next one will be worse.

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

The Angel Among Us (Cordelia X reader) part 6

Two posted in one day? what? Never heard of her. Its a short one. Like 2000 words. I considered saving this for the next chapter but I can’t  without slipping up that one and I don’t really want to at the moment. Could change later.

Warnings: Murder

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4,  Part 5 , Part 6, Part 7 (will be added when done)

Upon heading upstairs and to the woman’s office, the three had fled. The man got enraged, claiming this was unfair. They're gone! Where would they have gone?

Michael spoke to Mead, who told him to forget about the witches and change plan.

You walked around the room getting a good whiff of the air. Your hand glided across the backing of one of the chairs located in the middle of the room. They heard the gunshots and the screams of their students dying. The two older ones rushed to the doors to lock them. Mallory complained telling her that they needed to save them but Mallory wasn’t ready.

“They teleported out of here.”

“Obviously.” Michael spat. “Where would she go?”

“This was the only place that she had. I can’t predict this.” The man huffed. “Ms Mead as a point,” you looked over at the woman. “Not like it matters but isn’t the world meant to end in flames or something. Are witches really worth your time? End the world before she can end you.” You make your move over to Cordelia’s desk chair. Now that she was gone, you could sit there. You’ve never been compelled to sit there until now. Maybe it was the hyperthecial power of it, it is only hers, the Supreme’s. You ran your finger of the grooves of the armrest. Resembling the woman towards the end of her life cycle, the arms had indents from being dug into. “Life is a game of, I don’t know chess- never played but that’s beside the point. You got all your pieces laid out and you go back an forth knocking each other’s out. Some pieces have a power to end the game if you get rid of them, but you don’t have to. There are other ways to end the game if that’s what your wish.”

“I don’t think you understand chess.”

“And now I hopefully never will.”

“You got aboard this really quickly.”

“You promise answers, something these witches couldn’t.”

To test your newfound loyalty to him, he schemed up something that would kill two birds with one stone. The two of you reached the warlock school in record speed. He refused to explain your purpose for being there until you stood outside the sculpture that hid the entrance of the underground school.

Your task was simple and if you chose to accept it would grant you a spot beside his side in the end times. “Kill them all,” was his instructions. “In the name of my father.”

You smirked, “Why not for us? Doing it for someone else seems better than for selfish reasons and I thought we needed to be as bad as possible.” The boy handed you a dagger. You removed it from it’s sheath and ran your finger along the edge of the blade. “A knife?”

“Make it a pure massacre.”

“A bloodbath,” you said chipperly. “Let’s go, Michael.”

There was no way you could fake this.

“Ladies first,” the boy said using his magic to open the door. You skipped onto the grounds. No one was guarding the entrance allowing the both of you to easily slip in. “I should warn you I’ve never killed before.”

“What about all those women- Oh~ I forgot. You’ll do fine.” What women? You shook your head and removed the knife form its cover. “You don’t need to be clean. The messier the better.”

The two of your stormed the school removing anyone who crossed your paths. At first, you had to hide your pained expressions as you had to stab the students. As time went on, it became second nature. Screams filled the air, students crying out for help. Soon you ditched the knife and used your powers figuring out tricks that Michael did and copying him.

The two of you strutted into the last room. Your joints was loose like a ragdolls. You would have toppled over by now you didn’t force yourself to finish the job.

“Who are-” The staff’s eyes shifted from you to your associate. “Michael.”

“I’ve got to thank the both of you, I wouldn’t have found my kin without the both of you,” Michael said. “I would thank the other two as well but sadly there gone. I guess you’ll have to thank them for us.”

John’s eyes flicker back to you. He analysis your face. It was Behold that said your name first, “Y/n?” it came out more of a question unsure due to you ghastly appearance.

“Bingo.” You cackled yourself to insanity. The man found you to be nothing but nice to him when he had his short stay at the school.

“The She-devil,” the other man muttered out.

“Hey! That’s mean,” you squeaked out getting up close and personal.

“You don’t kill men-”

“-I kill whomever I like.” You stabbed him in the chest. Michael made quick work of the other man.

“I warned Cordelia-” the man crocked out. You got into his face and dug the blade deeper into him.

“She’s dead. All the witches are dead-” you ripped the blade clean out of him. “and so too are you.”

You watched the man’s life fade from his eyes. Michael clapped and congratulating you on passing his test with flying colours. The man worked on his little display piece as you cleaned your blade on your skirt.

You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, your skin paled revealing noticeable veins in your face. Eyes pitch black, covering the white of the eyes. No wonder they didn’t recognise you. The ‘you’ was gone. The colour came back into your skin and your eyes settled down by the time Michael was done with his inverted pentacle of human corpses.

“We should head home.”

“Home?”

The two of you ended up at mead’s house. The three of you rested at Meads dinner table. In the short time you were there you’d gotten along well with the woman which shocked you since she was a Satanist and that went against everything you had stood for… You guess a lot had changed today. You spent half an hour in her bathroom reliving what you had done. Crying didn’t solve your problems. You didn’t cry because of what you had done, you cried because you enjoyed it. You wanted your old life back and if you had the chance, which you were well aware you didn’t, you would have to burn for your sins. You played your part, slowly loosing yourself in the act.

Mead ended up suggesting going to the men that rebuilt her after all of Michael’s terrible ideas of how to end the world including the plot of omen 3.

 You asked about these men she spoke of, and Michael filled you in about these two coke heads with bad hair that ran a robotics company. You said you wouldn’t mind meeting the men who played god by creating a replication of a life. Worse case, you waste a day. You asked Mead to call them up and telling them you were heading right over. You grabbed Michaels and asked him where it was located. A second later you were outside a tall white building with the company’s logo pasted up the top. “Not bad,” he complemented. You told him you would stay by his side and make sure he didn’t accept any stupid ideas and just introduce her as a business partner or something.

The men hand him a list of names and all of them were members of the Cooperative which was really the Illuminati but with a new name. All members had they've sold their soul to the devil and therefore, Michael controls them. Jeff and Mutt encourage him to use nuclear weapons to end the world, You second the idea. Michael agreed but only if it'll also destroy the witches. Jeff and Mutt reassured him that it will, but he needs to talk to the Cooperative first.

“Will it kill them?” Michael asked you. You had stolen one of the desk chairs and you were now playing with a robot part. You looked at them like they asked you’re the stupidest question on earth.

“They’re human, of course nuclear bombs will kill them.” You wouldn’t allow it; you’ll find them before the bombs go off and save them. Then you can warn them of what’s to come.

The idea for the end of the world was simple, a few hotspots full of people will be saves. The richest of the rich, and some others to help work. But all, the best in their fields. Michael placed you in charge keeping Jeff and Mutt in line as well as overseeing the project. You had managed to gain the antichrists trust by then.

You sat in the corner of their lab reading one of their occupant leaders strange requests. “God this woman is a riot,” you chuckled to yourself.

The clicking of heels signified the entrance of their secretary/Human resources person along with everything else important. For someone who walked with a can, she was quiet with it, her heals made more noise than it did.

You never bothered to turn around and look at her, too busy working to care about the likes of her. Your back was always facing her, so she never got a good look at you either. She gathered you worked there now even though it was never passed through her. One day you didn’t work here and now you did. The men the woman worked for acted like you’ve been there for years, they didn’t even call you by your name anymore but by an assortment of nicknames, none of which you were fond of.

“Thanks Ms Venable. Oh, that minds me, you will receive an email about the purchases for outpost… which one again?”

“3 and 4,” you answered.

“Yes, 3 and 4 by the end of the day, we need to you place the orders today before you leave.”

“Can you also order some cigarettes? I’m out. Order a lot please.”

“Is that all?” The woman was dismissed.

“Wait? Is that Venable?” You spun around to see the woman, but she was already gone. “You gave your secretary a job as outpost leader?”

“That or she would quit.” You nodded before going back to work.

“Hmm~” After sending your email, you decided to go one break. You groaned, your eyes aching from the constant strain they’d been forced to endure. You tossed your glasses of your head and rubbed your eyes furiously. “Stupid piece of shit doesn’t even work,” your eyes were better off without the stupid eyewear. It was probably time for a new pair you thought. You swung your chair around notifying the two you were popping out for a bit. One of them men notified you that a packet of cigarettes had been brought up for you. They tossed it to you as you walked towards the back exit.

When you returned you noticed a change in the air immediately. A presence that didn’t belong here entered when you were gone. Light. “Did you two have client while I was out?”

“No. We did however get four tickets bought for outpost 3.” You hummed, walking up to the board to see who bought it. St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Oh, those witches, they are good.

“All good. This works with my order. Everything’s good.” You were happy at the knowledge that at least one of your students was alive.