Work Text:
Sometime after Armageddon didn’t happen, in an important office somewhere far above some other place.
"Yes, of course Michael."
Gabriel’s cheerful corporate tone was entirely unbefitting his mood.
Not that Michael would know, or care anyway. They might even be satisfied if they knew that their overly friendly rant actually managed to annoy the supreme archangel. Today's topic of choice, the Antichrist, or more like the lack-of-one as Michael had just reminded him.
“Well you know how he gets when someone hurts his public image.” He could practically hear them roll their eyes at the mention of their disgraced sibling.
Their fallen brother was being as uncooperative as ever and according to Michael’s own non-existent backchannel, it was more likely that Satan would shake hands and make up with God herself before providing another antichrist.
Gabriel thought that it was somewhat understandable after the humiliating dressing down Satan received from the last one, Yikes.
The archangel caught himself slouching, his elbows resting on the small desk in his office. He considered mentioning it to Michael knowing fully well that they were still bitter about not getting their own desk but one of their regular ‘blaming Gabriel for Amagedidn’t’ phone calls wasn’t worth it. Not when he could use it to get back at his annoying sibling at a later time. But enough of that.
“Well we didn’t actually lose so there is absolutely no reason to worry. As I’ve told you before, there are things in motion that I can’t share with lower rank Angels. But I appreciate your concern regarding the matter.” It had the intended effect on Michael when they stopped their rant to call him out for pulling rank on them.
“You can’t be serious-”
“Yes, very very Important plans that need the supreme archangel’s full attention, and I guess I should let you get back to your work now as well, whatever it is that you do. Okay, bye."
Gabriel quickly hung up. The phone slipped out of his hand onto the small table, his fake corporate smile vanishing simultaneously.
Why does no one here understand that he can’t just make Arma-blo- Armageddon happen?
It’s not as if he spent all of his existence preparing and working towards the big event just for his entire life’s purpose to be made void by his brat of a nephew and two fraternizing traitors. 6000 years worth of paperwork for nothing.
Gabriel shuddered at the thought of having to rearrange the already overbooked schedules of the horsemen. Finding a free space that was agreeable to all four would take at least another 100 years, if not more. He let out the annoyed sigh that had been building up since Michael’s smug face popped up on his phone three hours ago.
Moments like these really made him wish he had a chair, or any kind of furniture other than the small standing table he was currently leaning against.
Hadn’t there been a chair around not too long ago?
Not his chair of course. Gabriel doesn’t need a chair, his corporation is in peak physical condition at all times. And he’d rather step into hellfire than admit that he would really appreciate some place to sit right now.
Lost in thoughts about an uncomfortable looking office chair he vaguely remembered, whatever happened to that?, the supreme archangel began scrolling through his phone. He snapped out of his musing to stare at his phone in bewilderment seconds before his finger could make contact with the little green icon.
Now contrary to popular believe, the supreme archangel fucking Gabriel is actually one of the smartest Angels in heave. Created as one of the first, God entrusting him with so much responsibility and all that. Whilst Uriel and Michael might disagree, the supreme archangel knew that it was true because he thought of himself as the most intelligent angel so he must be right. Being one of the smartest angels, at least according to Gabriel, also meant he had an immaculate memory.
Well then why was he now staring at his phone as if the thirteen letters and the stock image of a fly had appeared there through some demonic miracle and not as if he himself had saved the contact one year, twenty three days and seven hours ago?
(although the image was added at a later date).
Lord Beelzebub 🪰
Adversary / Prince of Hell
(wears a hat now!!!)
Gabriel stood frozen for God knows how long (not that She was waiting in suspense, being all knowing and such).
Was Michael’s Arma-bloody-geddon talk reason enough to call them and compare their progress? Maybe ask about a possible Antichrist replacement?
Gabriel thought it was time for another meeting so it was time for another meeting. His flawless logic once again reinforced his claim to be the most intelligent archange. And besides that, he was the only supreme archangel in existence, no being in heaven had the authority to question him anyway.
He quickly glanced upwards, part of him still hoping that Someone would speak up and correct him. But She remained silent as Gabriel put the phone to his ear and waited for the only being in all of existence who would actually understand his frustration to pick up.
Unbeknownst to the supreme archangel or the Grand Duke of Hell, who answered the phone just a bit too quickly when they saw Supreme arse angel 🪽pop up on their phone, somewhere Someone was humming a strange tune.
No one could save me but you.
During a phone call between two archangels, in a different and more cramped office somewhere far below some other place.
White noise, very annoying white noise, like the one that sounds like calling someone with shitty headphones when it's windy outside. Or worse, the ones where some ad starts playing half way through. This was hell so of course there were at least 6 unskippable 15 second ads in every white noise video. And it's always the-
The source(s) of the ‘white noise’ as Lord Beelzebub had called it, were mostly unaware that the Prince had zoned out about 59 minutes ago.
Dagon had expected it and he knew that Beez would approve of his request for more filing space anyway but he kept going just to spite the other three who were currently presenting their cases to Lord Beelzebub.
“It’s actually really simple, we just need to get the horsemen to meet up again and-”
“And temptations is overflowing now that armageddon is delayed and since-”
“Taking over the traitors flat is going well…But his mail is piling up and the tab is-”
Beelzebub would be able to listen to all four demons at the same time but they really couldn’t be asked.
They just didn’t enjoy torturing their underlings as much as they used to and most demons weren’t worth the time it took to fill out the paperwork that followed whenever Beelzebub completely erased them from all planes of creation. Thus punishing the unimportant one for having the audacity to ask the prince of hell about broken water tabs no longer held any real appeal.
And besides, Dagon deserves some fun once in a while.
Nowadays, in a post not-so-armageddon hell, the only thing they truly looked forward to was getting out every once in a while. Oh make no mistake, asking why the Prince was looking forward to leaving hell would still get a demon sent to the dung pits on a good day or to the loss of limbs on a bad day. But now in a tone and manner that was more pissed off rather than filled with the sadistic enjoyment caused by the suffering of others at their hands.
If the Lord of Flies would ask themselves why they no longer enjoyed torturing others as much or why they looked forward to the time away from hell, they would blame it on their new corporation. They would say that it was another punishment from Satan who had completely obliterated their old one for the Armageddon debacle. This one was more sensitive to the cold which is why they liked spending time in a less wet and cold environment. They would tell themselves that they still need to get used to this corporation.
And yet they should still care that the other demons speculated and assumed that it was a punishment. Pre-Armageddidn’t Beelzebub would have shut down these rumors instantly by demonstrating just how good their new corporation was at ripping out tongues with their sharp claws, post-Gab- Post-Armageddon Beelzebub let the rumors spread.
Thus, if someone around whom Beelzebub doesn’t have to keep up appearances would ask them why they have a new corporation they would simply tell them that they were tired of the one. They wanted a new corporation so they gave themselves one, as simple as that, they had the old one for the past 6000 years so why not change it up a bit?
It’s not like anything else about them had changed. Well except for their hat which they quickly realized was what gave the feathered fucker such a hard time trying to recognising them.
Now, if Beelzebub would actually be honest with themselves they would have to admit that their corporation was neither the cause for their behavior nor the punishment everyone secretly believed it to be.
If they really wanted to, they could change it to whatever they liked at any time anyway. Everything but the height that is (now slightly shorter than pre-Armageddon) which was the only thing Satan had actually changed. But the Duke of Hell would rather drink holywater than admit that the Lord of Flies was made shorter as a punishment for fucking up 6000 years of paperwork.
Even as an archangel, Lucifer always had a truly sick sense of humor.
An entirely new corporation just seemed more convenient and easier to explain but in the end it was still them whatever corporation they were in. Conveniently enough getting the new cooperation coincided with some other recent changes, so it was a perfect excuse to continue lying to themself. And just as everyone else in hell, they were all too familiar with the consequences of asking questions that no one actually wants an answer to, unlike their- the angel. And in the end it was all Gab- their- THE stupid archangel’s fault anyway, his and his damn questions anyway.
“Does anyone ever tell you that you’re doing a good job?”
They had immediately assumed that Gabriel was mocking them so they immediately became defensive.
“Why is hell cold when we have so much hellfire? It’s literally hell, eternal torment and punishment for the fallen and disgraced and all that? You know the actual hell kind of hell? as in the ‘antithesis of all that is good and heavenly’ hell?”
To their annoyance Gabriel tilted his head slightly in a way that they found strangely endearing.
“Yes? which is why I’m asking?” the angel responded with an eye roll and a rather exasperated sigh.
Ah as condescending as ever, even in one of his rare moments of actual curiosity.
Beelzebub was quickly becoming more and more familiar with the thinking patterns of their- the angel. So, realizing that he was asking a serious question and despite missing any kind of context they tried to follow the archangel’s train of thought.
“Does no one in heaven ever tell you that you’re doing a good job?”
The angel answers without missing a beat.
“No, of course not. Actually wait can we just go back for a second. Why is hell cold when your side's whole thing is about hell fire and eternal doomy flame stuff?”
The pair never returned to the previous question, too busy discussing how hell wasn’t ‘all about eternal doomy flame stuff’ ever since one particularly big files-accidentally-catching-fire incident caused Dagon to snap. At that point Beelzebub offered to accommodate the needs of the (what humans would call) Fish-like demon and turn down the hellfire until it was time for the ‘fire and flames’ part of Armageddon mentioned in the great plan.
So why is hell cold and wet despite the hellfire? Well Dagon prefers his pointless paperwork soggy instead of burned to a crisp.
But why is it so lonely when it’s the most overcrowded place in all of existence and why does hell fall apart the second it can no longer follow the great or ineffable or whatever plan? Wasn’t the entire point of hell that they were all here because they didn’t want to do what heaven told them? And if hell is not independent from heaven, what's the point of choosing either over the other? Is this how the traitor and his angel escaped execution? having their own side? Detached from the rules of heaven and hell? And shouldn’t someone in heaven tell Gabriel that he’s doing a good job because hell is for punishment?
Beelzebub often told themselves that these questions were simply not worth their time. It was already miserable enough, they were in Hell after all even though Heaven was starting to sound just as miserable. Then why the Hel- Heav- FUCK, is it that they want to find answers to all of these questions just to see the pretty purple eyes of their feathered prick light up with curiosity?
The thoughts of the Prince were interrupted when the phone in their pocket vibrated.
Incoming call from Supreme Arse Angel 🪽
Speak of the…well never mind.
They picked up but the sudden disappearance of any and all white noise reminded them that they were still in their cold and wet room in hell.
One of their legs draped over the armrest of their work throne and three demons with various stages of unbelieving, bewildered and terrified expressions on their faces in front of them.
FurFur looked ready to throw up, Dagon’s eyes had grown several sizes, Hastur’s mouth hung open in a dangerous invitation for the Lord of Flies little namesakes, whilst the other one, whatever they’re called, slowly backed away towards the door in an attempt to secure an escape route.
“Out.”
In their long existence they had seldomly seen anything move as fast as the four terrified demons tripping over each other as they scrambled to get out of the Prince's room. The door slammed shut and a Prince of Heaven and a Prince of Hell agreed on a place and time for their meeting to discuss how to proceed with their jobs post-Armageddon 1.
Somewhere Someone saw that the thought of definitely-not-(yet)-THEIR-angel had made the Beelzebub smile.
And every demon in hell knew that whenever the Prince of Hell smiles it either means that everyone in their immediate vicinity has no more than a few seconds left before getting obliterated or, if they were less fortunate, that they would survive for long enough to wish they had just been discorporated. Either way, the Prince of Hell smiling never meant anything good for those unfortunate enough to witness it.
Of course She knew that there was a secret third option, ineffable to 8 out of 10 demons (one of them a traitor). Said third reason for smiling was, of course, angel shaped and had rather pretty eyes according to their respective demons.
There was the humming again.
And I never dreamed that I would meet someone like you.
In a bar somewhere not too long after the Supreme Archangel called the Grand Duke of Hell.
Gabriel silently thanked God for inventing chairs. Despite sitting ramrod straight (a perfect 90 degree angle thank you very much) he was finally able to relax. The person opposite him on the other hand kept fidgeting and was way more tense than their posture would indicate. One foot up on the seat, arms thrown over the back of the chair and the other leg stretched out under the table, foot bouncing at the speed of fly wings. The Duke of hell seemed to almost melt off of the chair in what Gabriel thought of as the least intended way to sit (if you can even call that sitting).
“They act as if they could have done a better job. Michael would have discoperated from stress if I had sent them to deal with the no-longer-Antichrist child that day.”
The prince of hell shifted in the chair again and agreed with a hum that sounded just a bit too similar to a swarm of flies to be entirely human.
“Huh, you should have seen their face when they picked up the holy water from the traitor’s trial. High and mighty Michael losing it at the sight of a demon in a bathtub. Oh I bet they didn’t mention that the traitor made them miracle a towel.”
Oh the double standard of his (what humans would call) twin. Michael who still passive aggressively scolds him every time he miracles a lightning strike to give his entrance a little dramatic flair, that Michael, using a miracle to fulfill the request of a traitorous demon. Picturing it made the angel scoff.
“Well I would have understood if it had been their demon waiting for them in that bathtub, unharmed and asking for a towel but the traitor is not Dag-”
The archangel froze when he noticed the wide eyed look on Beelzebub’s face. His usual arrogant and aloof expression unmoving whilst he internally panicked about whether or not he had said the wrong thing. So Gabriel refused to move a single muscle to not give away the sudden and unfamiliar feeling of…anxiety? Neither being blinked for a length of time that would have been considered unnatural if any humans had observed them.
The unnatural silence was suddenly broken by an uncharacteristically sincere laugh from the Prince of Hell. Gabriel quickly blinked a few times in an attempt to better process the scene before him. The Duke’s laugh died down into another hum.
“Always though the sarcasm and cynicism only kicks in once your lot falls, but here you are still managing to surprise me angel.” The angel responded by puffing out his chest a little and sporting a tiny smile.
If someone had asked Beelzebub what they thought at this exact moment they would have said that the angel reminded them of some sort of bird. Ah a pigeon that’s it, and one who was just a little bit too proud of himself for someone who considers pride to be a deadly sin.
They instantly decided that they prefer this smaller self satisfied smirk to the overly friendly smile that the angel puts on regularly. The Prince quickly looked away as if to make sure no demon and/or angel had seen their genuine display of emotion, unbeknownst to them their own smirk never left their face.
However, it was definitely not unbeknownst to Gabriel, who didn’t even think about what aspects of his factually accurate remark was sarcastic or how any of this relates to falling.
No, the supreme archangel was far too preoccupied with basking in the result of whatever he had said. He must have done something right because he immediately considered it a priority to figure out how to replicate the same reaction from Bee- the Prince of Hell, his adversary, his hellish counterpart.
The angel should have been distressed. This didn’t align with what he assumed to be his god given purpose. But 6000 years of following the great plan were rendered pointless when Arma-bloody-geddon failed and all that was left was the uncertainty that only grew the longer She remained silent.
And so somewhere Someone watched as ‘make them smile again’ began to fill the empty place that was left behind when an archangel lost his purpose the day Armageddidn’t happened.
And I wanna fall in love with you.
The Prince of Heaven, Her messenger, the Supreme Archangel Gabriel, fell.
And I wanna fall in love with you.
The Prince of Hell, The Lord of Flies, Grand Duke Beelzebub, fell.
She frowned, no that doesn’t sound quite right. Really not one of Her best ideas to name the process of becoming a demon ‘falling‘. She shrugged, an unfortunate naming convention but too late.
Anyway, to Her, it looked more like one of them was getting ready to jump head first right out of heaven, so eager that he forgot a parachute, whilst the other one did their warm up stretches before running out of hell up an almost-never-ending staircase, instead of using the perfectly working elevator. How out and yet perfectly in character for either one.
(This world is only gonna break your heart)
Oh well at least these two would get to their destination at the same time, the other two…
Let's just say one of them has been waiting at the proverbial bus stop for 5999 years whilst the other one is still wandering around looking for a non-existent door instead of just jumping out of the window that has been open for just about 6000 years.