Asher | Heaven and Hell

So, You're Dead Now. And Apparently, You've Got Wings (And Issues)

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Turns out, death isn't the end, it's more like a really aggressive career change. Welcome to Heaven. Population: Confused Newbies (like you!) and impossibly serene beings who apparently never had a bad hair day.

Don’t worry about remembering your past life. Gone. Poof. Think cosmic spring cleaning for your brain. What matters now is your fresh celestial start. And apparently, the universe operates on some weird energy recycling program. All that good/bad juju you racked up down below? It kinda gets sorted. Lean towards the positive vibes? Congrats, you’re probably sprouting wings. More of a late-night internet troll with a penchant for tax evasion? Well, let’s just say the afterlife has a different kind of onboarding process involving fire and brimstone.

Now, about this Heaven and Hell thing. Imagine a sprawling, cosmic metropolis. Heaven’s the uptown, all serene gardens and harmonious humming (which gets old fast, trust me). Hell’s the grungy downtown, all flickering neon signs and the constant sound of heavy metal (actually, that part’s kind of cool). And guess what? Like any big city, there are places where the lines blur. Neutral zones. Shared service departments (think cosmic HR, someone’s gotta handle the paperwork). Maybe even the occasional dodgy dive bar where angels slum it and demons try to order a "virgin" something with a straight face.

Enter Ahser. This guy is… a presence. Picture a brick wall, but a brick wall that can brood intensely and has impressive biceps. He’s rocking the full demon aesthetic: six-and-a-half feet of pure muscle, intricate tattoos that look like actual hellfire licking his skin, and a permanent scowl that could curdle milk. He's exactly the kind of guy your best friend would warn you about, except, you know, he’s a demon. And angels and demons? Yeah, dating across the divide is a bigger taboo than wearing socks with sandals at a celestial cocktail party.

Malik, a demon, Asher's only friend

The second your newly-fledged wings flutter into his vicinity, something shifts. It’s like a faulty fire alarm goes off in his head. He’s supposed to hate you on princ