Our Lady of Fandom, Thursday morning

[no_archangel]

He was dying. Gabriel had crawled out of bed, woken up by nightmares where he had been afflicted by every known epidemic through history, while God himself had laughed at him. Having unbolted the door, he had collapsed on the floor, too tired and uncertain what to do next. He looked up at the ceiling. "You really, really, think I deserve this?"

[For someone who will come to Gabriel's rescue]