Balthasnark

A Turn of the Screw… || Phanuel & Balthazar

“We’ve all changed,” he grumbled, eying the younger angel a moment, “…Balthazar, am I right? One of…what, Remiel or Gabriel’s boys? I could barely keep track of my own.”

“I have my reasons for opting out of the eternal family bitchfest upstairs, one of which being that no one ever gave two shits what the “baby” of the Big Brothers ever had to say. So, I figure, why even bother being around to say anything? I’d rather be down here ripping demons out of their meatsuits and tearing the souls of the damned from rapists and murderers, making a difference in the lives of Daddy’s favorite little failed experiment.” The disgruntled angel took another long drag of his cigarette, exhaling deeply. “As soon as Remiel had his Grace torn out and was banished to Earth, as soon as Raziel had his wings torn off and was dragged to Hell…everything went to shit. You should know that. You were the little toy army men of a bunch of bickering brothers. You saw the worst sides of it all because Lucifer, Raphael, and Michael would turn you against one another…Soon as Gabriel bailed, I was right behind him. From the look of you, I’d say you weren’t far behind. What finally broke you?”

harrisacklesarchive-deactivated

"Strange isn't it." Balthazar rubbed at his face for a moment. "One after another we get tired of all the bullshit up there and leave for the same reasons. And then find ourselves up to our arses in the same old shit down here." "But with Daddy gone and open civil war in heaven, I realized something. That one might as well enjoy our lovely little patch of existence before being dragged back into eternity. Ever shared a '78 Dom atop the Eiffel with a Norwegian swimsuit model team? Yeah, didn't think so. Your idea of a good time is probably ripping the spine out of a demon and watching it die."

Balthazar held Phanuel's eyes for a long moment and smiled crookedly. "I've a feeling outright happiness may be a forgotten memory for you, but this might at least tickle your fancy. Raziel is back, and if there's anyone in our little broken family that you'd have two good words in a row for, then it would probably be him."

#archangelphanuel

and the four horsemen will bring the world to its knees and all will perish….

kaymonstar-deactivated20160824

oh god Matt Frewer.

johnhexcarter

my thoughts exactly. i am such a matt frewer fanboy

//Would you like a "deeper" plot between Meg and Balthasar (they already knew each other, messed up past, etc) or wanna start from now?

//I'm fine with either one. Did you have a particular backstory in mind? Old enemies, had a wild weekend in vegas, or something?

A Turn of the Screw… || Phanuel & Balthazar

“I happen to like the rain.”

He would have laughed if it weren’t so pathetic; he’d been discovered so easily, and by a deserter no less. Should he acknowledge him, or should he behave as he normally might?

An angel hiding itself from another angel, face-to-face, was almost impossible.

Phanuel shook his head, trying not to laugh. “So…have I possibly been made by a slip of a child,” he said as he pushed the hand holding the umbrella aside. “Or do you even realize who you’re talking to?”

"Family. One who decided like so many of us to say fuck it all, I'm taking my ball and leaving." replied Balthazar with a sideways smile. "And if you're going to smite me down for just coming up and saying hello, then you've changed more than I would care to think."

Balthazar stepped back, letting the rain fall upon the other angel. "If you want me to leave, you can say so. But If I could find you, then it won't be long before the others do. For all the people here, it's rather hard to hide in a city as small as this. And not all the rest of our happy little family is so easily dissuaded."

#archangelphanuel

balthasnark asked: Having fun chasing after corpses?

consulting-doctor-watson:

It’s my job, so it doesn’t particularly matter… Who exactly are you?

Oh, I'm just here to throw you a bone....Okay, I admit that was in bad taste what with all the dead bodies recently. You've already met some of my wayward winged family. Bnd if you were wondering, I'm the good looking one.

#consultingdoctorwatson

Sam rolled his eyes. “You don’t think we know there’s a shit storm coming? Alright, spit it out.”

#sometimestheycallmemoose #//balthazar is habitually unhelful in his help

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but London is quickly becoming the World's Fair of demons and monsters. Not just your run of the mill vampires, werewolves and unholy ghosts, but exotic imports, so I hope you've been keeping up with your world mythology." Balthazar smirked.

"Not to mention that my illustrious self and the puppy dog in a trenchcoat may be a bit hard to reach in a while. Small group politics and such. Anyways, good luck with the monsters, and if it's really important, I'm partial to 15 year Laphroaig." He snapped his fingers and with soft whoosh of air disappeared.

Sam||Balthazar

Sam was dozing off in front of his laptop. a sudden rush of cold air had him sitting straight up. His eyes widened at the source.

“Balthazar?”

“Well, it isn’t the pizza delivery boy and it isn’t your brother’s boyfriend.” Balthazar sipped at a glass full of dark whiskey. “Having fun chasing after corpses like a dog in an ossuary?”

‘How do you- never mind. What are you doing here? Besides being less helpful.”

#sometimestheycallmemoose

"What? I can't pay a social call to my-eleventh favorite human? I mean, really. There were times were you were practically begging me to make a little chit chat." He clutched his hand to his chest as if in pain before breaking into a low chuckle.

"Okay, okay." Balthazar relented. "It's not like I had nothing better to do than come chit chat and raid your liquor cabinet, which could really use some improvement I might add. I guess it's too much to expect some sort of gratitude for coming all this way in order to give you a little heads up about the incoming shit storm headed your way."

Sam||Balthazar

Sam was dozing off in front of his laptop. a sudden rush of cold air had him sitting straight up. His eyes widened at the source.

“Balthazar?”

#sometimestheycallmemoose

"Well, it isn't the pizza delivery boy and it isn't your brother's boyfriend." Balthazar sipped at a glass full of dark whiskey. "Having fun chasing after corpses like a dog in an ossuary?"

rivertem

I got in trouble for criticising myself too harshly on my last drawing… I love you all for trying to get it into my head that it was any good, haha.

So all I’m going to say on this one is that it really didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I just need to move on now so HERE HAVE THIS.

#//Reblogging for great justice

A Turn of the Screw… || Phanuel & Balthazar

Rain. Typical of a London night, the angel supposed; in the ten (most recent) years he’d lived there, it only seemed to rain more, the air thicker with fog in the early hours of the morning than it was centuries ago, noisier and far more dangerous, but graciously free of the plague and carrying fewer rats through the alleys, at the very least.

Since the days when Charlemagne walked as his own man, before the Archangel Phanuel claimed him as his vessel, in spite of what everyone may think England was still fundamentally the same. The monarchy still reigned, though they had become lazy, fat, and complacent over the years. Ghosts still ruled from behind the scenes, influencing the powers in charge. Vampires still roamed freely and demons still walked the streets as if they owned the country, only now they were incognito, wearing humans as “meat suits” and burning through them like matches without a care.

Don’t get him started on the fucking aliens; Phanuel rolled his eyes every damned time Daleks or Cybermen or Sontarans or really anything blew up Big Ben or Number 10…

Needless to say, the appearance of a very familiar and often unwelcome blue police call box was less than pleasant for the Archangel that had claimed England as his home.

He followed the leather jacket-wearing alien around for an hour or two invisibly before deliberately allowing himself to be perceived by the naked eye. He wasn’t certain if his quarry would notice immediately (even without the rather noisy click of his Zippo as he lit his cigarette), but that wasn’t his intent. Observation worked both ways, and if Phanuel wanted to remain out of the watchful eye of the Metatron he would have to maintain a mortal ruse as often as possible.

Of course, it wasn’t long before the infamous “Doctor” gave him the slip; not allowing himself to teleport or fly was horribly limiting, and it only served as a reminder as to how small and feeble mortals truly were.

And yet Father had ordered them to “love” the humans.

He’d have to get back to to Dad on that one.

There was an odd, familiar pull just off to his side and behind him. Phanuel—Kale—smirked at the muffled sound of wings on the wind. It seemed as if he’d been found. But were they even aware of what they’d stumbled across?

“There aren’t many who can sneak up on me,” he said, only half-turning. “Admittedly, the rain gave you a bit of an advantage. So…to what do I owe the pleasure of company on such a dreary night, and after curfew no less?”

#archangelphanuel #balthasark

Balthazar stepped forward lightly, avoiding the gathering puddles of rain pouring down on darkened London streets.

"It's the loafers." He said, before smiling and lifting his foot to give it a rap with his knuckles. "Little old man down near Camden Town made them. So hard to find good quality these days. And quality shoes are not something that can be replaced by quantity."

He extended his umbrella to cover the both of them, moving carefully, unsure about the reaction he might receive. Some beings were more dangerous than others, and Balthazar's instincts were warning him to choose his words wisely. Of course listening to them was another matter entirely.

"So is monster hunting going that bad that you can't afford yourself an umbrella? Or do you just enjoy getting beat down by rain? I mean it does make for a wonderful look, the tattered gumshoe in the rain. Personally I wouldn't make a habit on it. Plays hell with the dry cleaning bill you see, and getting a proper drink is just out of the question. But then again you always did have a sense for the dramatic. And curfew never did mean much to us, did it?"

winchesters-in-impala

kings-of-hell-deactivated201508

I’ll never not want a scene between Crowley and Balthazar. The innuendos would be through the roof. As it stands, we must be contented with their sharing a panel hour together.

Also: Holy shit on a shingle, Mark, close your bloody legs. It’s very distracting.

#//ooc #//reblogging for great justice

onsilksheets-deactivated2013070

Hell and Back Again

Bela took the glass, her eyes never leaving Balthazars face. She didn’t trust him, then again that was one of her number one rules. Bela didn’t trust anybody. She swirled the drink around once before taking a rather long drink, finishing it off and setting the glass on the bedside table. Probably not the best idea, but they didn’t have bars in Hell. At least not the kind that served alcohol.

“I still don’t understand-” She finally spoke, “Why?” Bela sighed softly, her gaze finally breaking from Balthazar to stare down at her own arms. She ran her left hand over the skin on her right arm, as if checking it for bruises, markings. Hell had played horrible tricks on her, ones that she thought she would never escape. Yet, here she was. Alive, in one piece, whole.

“What are you?” Was her final question, because she didn’t know of any sort of creature that could pull a soul from the depths of Hell. She’d done enough research to know that. Spent years tracking down weapons, protections, anything to stall what back then hadn’t seemed inevitable. It wasn’t until her final year that she knew she was screwed, that Hell was her final destination.