It's good fun...for a hermit

Yes, it's been a while and I've missed posting a few chapters, BUT, I have re-remembered to post here again!

So without further ado......

Summary:

The rapid pace of events starts to catch up with Crowley, Amon, and all the A(a)rchangels who now claim one side of the Damnation Wing in Hell as their new home.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale connects with Raguel properly for the first time. And discovers an Archangel he did not expect......

Excerpt:

“When should we have them remove their halos, and where?” Crowley asked Amon, from where he was leaning against the wall, the introductions of the newest residents of Hell providing a quiet background, as he considered their next steps.

Amon, who still had Benny glued to him, and who Raphael was inadvertently encouraging to stay in place, by petting the cat’s head over Amon’s shoulder, looked out over the room, and considered. “None of them are leaving Hell any time soon except for Sandalphon, so they probably have time. But ‘where’ is a good question.” He looked over at Crowley, “Could we just have Zadkiel take them up to Earth somewhere? Wherever the rest of them disposed theirs’?” 

Neither Amon nor Crowley noticed Raphael absolutely freeze the instant Crowley had mentioned halos. “We didn’t,” Raphael said, in a stricken tone.

Crowley turned, and slowly removed his glasses before he spoke, “You what?”

Raphael opened his mouth to reply, but Crowley beat him to it, taking a step forward, voice molten in its intensity. “Please tell me you merely failed to dispose of them, and didn’t forget to remove them altogether.”

..........................

Aziraphale sighed slightly as they approached his door, thinking about the seemingly impossible web of connections that had led to everything being, well, where it currently was.

“Something you care to share?” Raguel asked, arching an eyebrow.

“The strangeness of connections,” said Aziraphale, with a humourless smile.

“Ineff–?” Raguel started.

“No, no, not that. Definitely not that,” Aziraphale interrupted, closing his door behind them, and offering Raguel one of the chairs in front of his desk. “More like the butterfly effect, but with bigger actions involved than the flap of a butterfly’s wings.”

He settled in his chair, and he and Heaven’s Judge regarded each other in silence for a long moment.

“I thought you needed something,” Raguel said eventually, a slightly amused smile playing on her face.

“I did—I do!” Aziraphale said. “It’s just… I guess I didn’t fully realise that it would be helpful to know if I can trust you with even more sensitive specifics ahead of time, but the only way I can think of determining that, is by telling the thing first, which negates the whole point.”

“That is a conundrum,” Raguel agreed, her smile curling up sardonically.

Aziraphale had to stop himself from scowling at her blatant non-helpfulness. Refocusing, he leaned his arms on his desk, and tried a new approach, one that he felt was inspired by Crowley. He hadn’t done all those jobs for the demon across the years for nothing, after all, he reminded himself. “I need a contract drawn up,” he said.

Read the whole chapter here!

The Ire and Needs of a Cuddly Snake Demon

No warnings, rated T

Tags: mentions of past violence, Fluff with H/C

Summary:

Satan and Hell have been escaped, the Second Coming has been averted, with the Metatron never to be worried about again. All done and dusted. And now Crowley, with Aziraphale, is living his best life he only dreamed of, with more in it than he ever imagined.

But although Hell can no longer touch him, that doesn't mean that what he endured at Satan's hand while there, hasn't left its very lingering effects. Even the most Terrifying Snake Demon needs the simple, but very loving care and arms of his angel sometimes.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale put the offensive laptop, with its impossible keyboard, and horrific potential for surprise puns, in the bottom drawer of his desk – the realm of the odds of the ends. It was the lowest of low places, for the things of Aziraphale to end up. “You should feel bad about yourself,” he scolded the laptop, as he shut the drawer.

Crowley chuckled, before giving Aziraphale a quick kiss. “Well I’m going back outside to finish things up,” he said. “Fancy joining me? Let the fresh air chase away the memories of Mark’s horrible puns?”

“I’m not sure anything can do that,” Aziraphale grumbled. “But yes, I would love a change of scenery.”

......... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ..........

Aziraphale's hand tentatively held the side of his face, and Crowley opened his eyes. “Crowley, love,” Aziraphale began.

“M’not a love,” Crowley interrupted, his pain making him feel very argumentative.

Aziraphale's mouth twitched up in amusement, “Well, you are, quite literal…”

“M’a snake demon,” Crowley muttered, eyes flashing.

“Yes, dear, a very terrifying snake demon,” agreed Aziraphale.

“No, nono, no, no! Don’t go saying it all condescendingly,” countered Crowley, quite offended now. Although he could tell sweat was breaking out around the back of his neck and across his forehead, from how severe the tight burning around his chest was getting. He gripped the fence just behind him more desperately.

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Reclaimed: Chapter 30 - Dimensional Deserts Make Amazing Planetariums

CW/TW/Rating: overall - M for Graphic Violence, this chapter - T for language

Summary: Final plans are laid before everyone goes their separate ways.

Crowley starts to realise just how vast the scope of his reach and abilities now are as the Ruler of Hell. And he uses that reach and scope to finally give himself and Amon the real break they, and Crowley in particular, have needed for so long.

Because Hell needs Ruling, the Metatron needs to be taken down, and several things are just beginning.... sort of.

Excerpt: Aziraphale looked between Amon and Crowley. “You both consider Mark the equivalent of your younger brother,” he said.

The two demons got very indignant looks on their faces, but when they couldn’t come up with any actual legitimate protest, Aziraphale first became very smug, before his demeanor softened. “I think the concept of family, for those of us who connect with that sort of construct, could be quite healing, you know? Like, if you feel that connection towards another Being – demon or angel – then that’s what counts, and who’s to say otherwise?”

There was such wistful longing in Aziraphale's voice, that Crowley immediately wrapped him in a hug. “How about we change things from the inside properly then, angel,” he whispered, “Make that a possibility for everyone who wants it.” He leaned down, grinning fit to burst, and whispered even more quietly in Aziraphale's ear, “Time to lick some serious butt, eh?”

Reclaimed, Ch. 29: Message In A Light Orb  CW/TW/Rating: M, no warnings for this chapter except dialogue references to past physical violence. Overall fic warning: Graphic violence

Summary: Crowley remembers who Cassiel is. And between Cassiel, and Amon through Lucifer's memories, an almost complete picture of the whys and wherefores of nearly everything involving God, the Rebellion, the Metatron, the Fall, and...well...everything, is finally able to be pieced together. A picture that prompts Crowley to perform Creation in the form of a message to send to God.

And Crowley and Aziraphale finally get a chance to talk properly about things......

Excerpt: “Yes, because, here’s the thing,” Cassiel said, leaning forward, and smoothly taking over, “you and him, were supposed to get to ask God Herself your questions. You were supposed to question the apparent cruelty, and meaninglessness of getting rid of a creation that was only six thousand years old. That was the correct answer to the test… to the Game." Read more on AO3