#Go find his corpse in Eden

[coatl-cuddles]

When I played Sky for the first time I gotta say... the Little Prince dying brutally in Eden was NOT on my bucket list.

Sky's a coward. They said sorry no friends for you. Everyone's gotta be dead. No alive people allowed!!! To which I say BOOOOO!!!

Oh well jokes on them Alef will be arriving in Aviary soon so HAH!!!!!!

[azdoine]

stolen planets

this is a minor point of order, mostly unrelated to the stuff about the River that I'm trying to get to later, but it's an idea I've never seen anyone post about in their consideration of John's empire and agenda.

early on in AYU, while dwelling on her miserable slog through convalescence, Judith mentions overhearing an inscrutable bit of BOE slang:

The stomach pouch was removed on a previous excursion to what they said was an abandoned “steal planet.” I understand that they use the word “steal” for what we would term “shepherd.”

I say slang because why else would you use the present tense verb in place of a past-tense adjective here, if not as colloquialism? however, this slang appears nowhere in NTN, where we spend great chunks of time airing out BOE vernacular.

Reading between the lines a bit, we can easily guess what the BOE troops meant by "steal", because they spend the rest of the short story trying to get Judith connected to one:

The ship was a Gorgon-class vehicle... it was the last time they had tried to design a light craft that still had room for a stele. Blood of Eden must have captured or stolen one intact.

However, this is still an unusual way of speaking; we've never exactly heard of a "stele planet" before, and we know BOE had to get their stele from Mercymorn, as opposed to finding one in the corpse of a flipped planet.

Looking for 'plot holes' and errors in the continuity of a magic system is rarely productive, but if we comb back over HTN, AYU, and NTN, there appear to be some interesting inconsistencies in the presentation of stelae.

In HTN, John describes stele travel as vaguely dependent on obelisk infrastructure, forcing his Lyctors (who can travel freely) to lay down more of them - the reader is encouraged to that stelae are warp drives, and that obelisks define the regions a stele can transit between.

God said, “We came up with the stele instead, and the obelisk, which are less to do with travel than they are to do with transmission. But there will be times in your future when you will have to move unfettered by needing an obelisk, and even times yet to come when you will fulfil the sacred Lyctoral duty of setting obelisks...”

“Where we are going there are no obelisks for a stele to hook on to,” said the Emperor.

Certain asides in AYU and NTN double down on this interpretation, making references to "obelisk anchors", and establishing the need to locate an anchor at one's intended destination before embarking on stele travel:

Someone else said more clearly, How will we know where the anchor is? And the voice said, I’ve given you the blasted co-ordinates, haven’t I? It won’t be in the ship’s stellar registry, so you’ll have to do the input work yourself. And you must follow the route I’ve given you afterward.

“The Ziz isn’t Cohort standard. And it’s not as big on the inside as you think. Look at the windows—see how there’re none on the back end? It’s mostly engine. Not plated either. It’ll get to sublume without many problems … but it definitely doesn’t have room for a stele. Camilla is right. It can’t travel by obelisk anchor.”

However, AYU makes it clear that a stele also has a role to play as an anchor:

Under this duress I told them I understood how the stele worked but had no ability to use it myself... I said one necromancer alone would not be able to use it as an anchor and that it needed to be energised on a thanergenic planet, so it would never be of any use to them.

NTN even seems to flip-flop around, with people locating a stele to anchor onto, and using obelisks like an array of engines rather than to define one end in a point-to-point transition.

"The Warden convinced the Oversight Body, convinced the Sixth House to come with us. We showed them the secret of the installation. We helped them find a stele that would anchor such a big thanergy transition … which means, we helped them move."

"How’d you get it through a stele? With the weight of that thing, you’d never survive River displacement.” “Five hundred and thirty-two obelisks,” said Camilla.

Here's my tinfoil hat for you: if a stele and an obelisk both have similar roles to play in FTL travel - as suggested by their both being named after words for monuments - then the obelisk should have a similar necromantic nature. They may both be similar names for the same thing, or two different versions of the same thing, at least.

If nothing else, given that they're clearly both "anchors" rooted in Fifth House spirit magic, obelisks and stelae must have similar demands for upkeep and maintenance. And how can a Lyctor possibly set up such an obelisk out in space?

We know that each anchor relies on great quantities of freshly oxygenated and thanergy-enriched blood - that is, each anchor is sustained by a thanergenic fluid still flush with thalergy, per Pyrrha's comments to the effect that blood wards are more thalergy-rich than bone wards. Such anchors also have to be charged with power from thanergy-rich planets.

Mercymorn was able to produce an automatic oxygenation unit via the use of flesh magic, but blood cells need external organs to stay alive. For purposes of sustaining a very large anchor with life and death, a simpler option might be to make your runes with very wide chisel cuts or specially treated surfaces, so that they can't be blotted out by debris, and then leave them in a liquid ecosystem. Place them at the bottom of a water basin teeming with microorganisms, and then allow the micro-ecology to start dying off in the same thanergenic background radiation that you're using to charge up the anchor monument.

For example, by carving into the seabed under the salt-water ocean of a dying planet - a stele planet.

[billdenbrough]

did a flash fic challenge today & the character i received from the spin2win was kevin. @merceyca prompted “plexiglass” & immediately after that, @vykio prompted “haunted house”, because they love to make life easy for me LMFAO. predictably with this setup, this is kevaaron. so.

kevaaron + haunted house, plexiglass

“This was a terrible idea,” Kevin mutters.

Andrew obviously hears him, but predictably ignores him, instead choosing to poke experimentally at the cleaver hanging from the ceiling. Renee, at his side, gently lowers his arm.

Matt is sandwiched between Dan and Neil, a bit ahead of Andrew. Allison and Nicky seem to be competing to find the ‘hottest corpse’.

Aaron, bringing up the rear with Kevin, slants him a sidelong glance. “Because those two are three seconds from being sent to a sexual harassment seminar or because you’re worried Andrew will try steal a machete from one of the actors?” he asks dryly.

“They’re not sharp enough,” Andrew says blandly. Renee shoots Kevin an apologetic look over her shoulder—he’s not really sure why; or rather, the only answer that comes to mind is at risk of making him flush, so he beats it back with a stick—and loops her arm with Andrew’s, leading him further out of earshot. Andrew allows it.

When Kevin looks back at Aaron, he’s tilting his head.

“Or something else?” Aaron asks.

Kevin weighs up his options. Discovering no good ones, he grumbles, “I think I saw a clown chasing a toddler with a flamethrower.”

Aaron snorts. “The great Kevin Day,” he says. His tone is mocking, but like – in that Aaron way. Kevin doesn’t really know how to explain it. There’s mocking when Aaron means it, how he used to talk to Neil and the scathing tone he turns on the especially annoying freshmen on the line-up, and then there’s like this: that natural tilt to his voice, something blunt and sarcastic, but no force behind it.

Kevin’s seen what it looks like, after all, when Aaron puts his strength into it.

He’s about to huff—something waspish about haunted houses and horror films and the Foxes’ inexplicable idea of what constitutes ‘fun’—when Aaron shifts closer, the sudden flush of body heat emanating off him stealing the words from Kevin’s mouth.

Aaron doesn’t seem concerned with saying anything, so Kevin doesn’t either, just shifts his weight on his next step to move closer to Aaron, now that he’s allowed. Their shoulders brush. Kevin thinks again about Renee’s apologetic expression, and almost bites off his own tongue.

It’s two rooms later—after Matt had to pull Nicky back from peering into a coffin before a guillotine descended on him, and Dan swore loudly at a fortune-teller who appeared suddenly at her side and kept ominously intoning her name while Allison told Neil, yeah, so that’s why you never say anyone’s name in one of these things—that Kevin finally says, “It’s dark.”

Aaron opens his mouth. Pauses. Shuts it. Hums.

Kevin thinks he’s going to have to say more. Explain himself. Talk about claustrophobic spaces, stuck in the dark, threats of violence.

Then Aaron takes his hand, holding it tight, and it’s like the air goes out of Kevin’s lungs.

He thinks about the car ride over, when Aaron and Nicky debated which horror movie to watch later that night. Nicky had been texting the other car at the time, chiming in with suggestions from the upperclassmen, most of which Aaron had shot down. His knee had kept bouncing, the way it did when he was animated, or irritated, or annoyed, or over-tired, or restless, or a thousand other things that Aaron sometimes was, that Kevin sometimes noticed. He’d wanted to reach out and still Aaron’s leg. He hadn’t.

He thinks about a week ago at Eden’s, downing seven shots as he sat at the table, ignoring whatever the fuck Neil and Andrew were doing as he watched Aaron—fucking wasted—tilt his head back on the dance floor, the lights illuminating the line of his throat. He thinks about an hour before they left for Eden’s that same night, arguing with Aaron about something that didn’t really matter, until it did, and he was pressing Aaron against the plexiglass of the court walls, snapping at him, and then kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. He thinks about Aaron—pinned halfway up the wall, Kevin raising him up for a better angle, Aaron’s hand leaving an imprint on the plexiglass—kissing him back.

He thinks about a month before that, on the bus on their way back from a game against Belmonte, Aaron sitting beside him and—with a long-suffering sigh—offering one of his earbuds to Kevin. It hadn’t been music Kevin knew, which Kevin had said, to which Aaron had scoffed, and said, You don’t know anything that came out after the 1800s, which was rude, but possibly fair. Still, Kevin had argued the point, and Aaron had objected to each of his statements, and somehow they’d ended up spending the entire journey going through Aaron’s playlists while they tried to—in Aaron’s words—find ‘an actual music taste’ for Kevin.

Kevin thinks about all of these things, and about Renee’s apology, and about Aaron’s hand in his, and about Aaron shifting closer, and Aaron’s sidelong glance, and he swallows.

A clown could try murder him right now, he thinks, and he might not even notice.

Slowly, he squeezes Aaron’s hand: smaller than his, but firm, unwavering.

After a moment, Aaron squeezes back.

[novthewolf]

Two’s company, three’s a family - Part seven

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the reason…

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : long, too long (someone stop me), animal corpse, implied child death, crucifixion, depiction of h0rnisness, mention of s3x, s3xual undertone, alcool, violence, blood, use of french, angst, nazis, anxiety panic, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +19,3k (seriously, stop me)

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Love ? Have you ever really felt Love ?

3004 B.C., Mesopotamia

It might be a strange thing to say, but right now you are actually learning how to walk. Oh, you knew the basics, but you never tried to practice on real soil. It felt weird on your feet, gritty and dry; it kept scratching the skin. A mix of tickles and quite pleasant itches. The reason you decided to come down was not to experiment with new sensations but to actually see why you had to bind specific animals together.

You would have asked the other cupids assigned to the mission if they knew anything, but only the principalities were aware of the actual goal. So, as curiosity overtook you, you made your way to the open land once you reached the limits of the forest. You were taken aback by the seemingly huge boat sitting on the hilltop. There were a lot of people, nicely looking at the strange scene behind some wooden fences.

Your eyes followed the multiple coupled animals, and you smiled, recognising the ones you created. Apparently, humans were leading them to that structure, leaving you more confused than ever. Slowly, you ambled to join the crowd and catch glimpses of conversation to try and understand what was actually going on. You ended up resting your arms on the wood and lifting your feet off the ground to relieve the pressure. When you jumped on your other foot, you bumped your right elbow against someone else's left side.

"Ah, sorry! I didn't see you here." You hurried, turning around to meet the unfortunate human.

"Oh, it's really nothing." The person was reassured. You gulped when you recognised him. It was the guardian angel of the Eastern Gate who stopped you from reaching said gate in the Garden of Eden. "Did you hurt your foot? My, you certainly will without any shoes on." He rambled in a worried tone. You started to worry as well. Did you just permanently damage your ride? By ride, you meant your physical body.

"No, no! I'm fine." You backed out slightly when he reached down for your leg. "I'm an angel too. My feet aren't hurt, I hope, and I never heard of... shoes? Anyway, please don't mind me." You dismissed me, looking for a way out.

He didn't seem surprised that you were an angel too. But your shattered heart missed a beat. You didn't mean to confess that. Does he remember your status? If he is aware, is he informed enough about your kind? No walking on earth, no feelings, no meddling in other angels' business. But instead of accusing you of not obeying your superior, he just nodded and actually miracled you some'shoes'. It was a really sweet gesture; you didn't know how to react. You simply muttered a small and bashful thank you and watched him kneel down in front of you.

You squinted your eyes, distruting the gentle way he took your scratched foot and helped you slide it inside the unfamiliar fabric. Once you were equipped, you trampled on the soil, laughing incredulously. It didn't hurt anymore !

"Thank you !" You exclaimed, giddy. And you were grateful to find that your overexcitement didn't faze him; he smiled brightly and joined his hands.

"Oh, there is no problem at all !" He laughed in a breath. Seeing that he seemed open-minded, you yearned to ask him the questions that burned your lips. However, someone interrupted you.

"Hello Aziraphale." A demon greeted him, his yellow snake eyes fixed on the guardian angel's face. He took place on Aziraphale's right side. You audibly gasped out of fear and embarrassment. Those two were the ones you linked back in the garden ! Plus, having a demon so close was still overwhelming.

"Crawley..." Aziraphale smiled nervously, his eyes going back and forth between you and the demon. That was when the redhead spotted you and tilted his head to the side to see you better.

"Hello there." He grinned with all his teeth. Intimitated, you simply hummed as a hello. Crawley then turned to Aziraphale. "So giving the mortals a flaming sword, how did that work out for you ?" He teased.

"You gave your sword away ?" You blurred out.

The angel huffed, flustered, and took some time to figure out what to say next. "There were really dangerous creatures out of the garden; they needed some protection." He rambled your way, then turned to the demon. "And the Almighty has never actually mentioned it again."

Crawley shrugged. "Probably a good thing... What's all this about ?" He gestured at the whole commotion. You nodded in agreement.

"Did they have a sudden urge to build a floating zoo ? Is it a common occurrence for humans ?" You wondered, truly curious.

"Well, they do have particular little quirks, but I never saw it come to that extent." The demon trailed, not meeting your eyes.

"From what I hear, God's a bit techy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm." Aziraphale gestured, and you smelled moonflower and moss, which you learned to recognise as sadness, even if he didn't show it. While Crawley's scent made you crunch your nose, you turned to him and watched his expression swing from outrage to disbelief.

"All of them ?"

"Just the locals." He nodded with tight lips. "I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians."

"What about the animals ?" You asked deeply, worried as you grasped his white sleeve. There was limited contact between you and animals, but every time you spent time with them, you felt a strong pull towards them, and you couldn't help but coo and coddle them.

"Oh no, God's not actually going to wipe out every creature." He flinched at your touch and was slowly pulling away. Despite your need for reassurance, you knew none of your fellow angels liked to touch you, so you let go. You felt the demon's eyes on you.

"You see Noah up there ?" He pointed towards the hill, and both of you looked up. "His family, his sons, their wives, and every couple of animals they brought in, they're all going to be fine."

"But they are drowning everybody else." He sneered, truly peeved. Aziraphale couldn't even answer and rather preferred to nod in agreement with sealed lips. Goats bleated in the background, catching your attention, and you turned around. Kids came running along them, blissfully playing and laughing. You shuddered.

"Not the kids. You can't kill kids." Crawley argued. He felt more disgusted by it than he showed, and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. You didn't expect him to care. Aziraphale hummed, darting his eyes away. Your heart sank, and you gulped.

"Well, that's more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do."

Yeah, so why isn't that the case?

As if he sensed your doubt, the angel spoke up again. "Yes, but when it's done, the Almighty's going to put up a new thing called a 'rain bow'" He offered with a smile, but all he could muster was a brow raise. "As a promise not to drown everyone again."

You couldn't help but let out a mix of scoff and a grunt. Crawley shared your distaste for the whole idea and mocked it. "How kind."

"You can't judge the Almighty, Crawley. And mh..." He stopped and turned to you inquisitively. He wanted to know your name. The last time you heard out loud was when... You wanted to slap yourself. Come on, you couldn’t be afraid of your own name, now can you ?

"Y/N." You smiled; you were actually happy to introduce yourself. Aziraphale was very nice, and even if he didn't know who you were or what you were, he was treating you with kindness and respect. You weren't sure if you were happy to know that a demon had learned your name. Oh god, what if he told him ?

"Don't fret; I'm sure God got all of this figured out. God's plans are simply:

"Are you going to say 'ineffable'"? Aw, they end each other's sentences. You almost forgot they were bonded. You smiled at the thought before remembering that you were the cause of it and how forbidden it was. You looked slightly red as you rubbed the back of your neck.

And when you thought you couldn't be more flustered, you felt Crawley skip behind you, brush his body against yours, and settle by your side. You were now as red as whatever was the reddest on Earth, and you completely froze up too. He then proceeded to burst your ears by yelling.

"Oi, Shem ! That's unicorn's going to make a run for it." A unicorn was indeed running away from the gathering towards the forest, and you were deeply alert, as you were the one responsible for its bounds. "Oh, it's too late. It's too late !" Crawley howled again.

Tired of his loud voice, you decided to leave and run after the poor creature. "Thank you for everything! Mmh.." You rushed before turning around, not sure how to respond in a non-monotone voice. "Bye bye! Smooches !" Smooches ? Really ?

You heard the angel echoe "smooches ?" as you sprinted away. Even with shoes on, you had terrible coordination and fell a few times before entering the forest, while seemingly hallucinating hearing Aziraphale's voice call you in the distance. Despite trying your best to catch the unicorn in time, you couldn't reach it in time. Instead, rain caught up to you, and you also had to discover how to swim. It wasn't as much fun.

Thankfully, you were able to fly away and find shelter in a cave, cold gnawing at your fingers and feet. And in that moment, you were the loneliest you have ever been. You hugged your knees and stared at your dreadful-looking arm, but you couldn't help but hope the unicorn was safe on the ark.

The minute the level of the water lowered enough for you to search, you didn't waste a second. You roamed for hours, your hair and clothes muddy and wet, tangling around your face and body. A few branches scratch your skin, and pebbles disrupt your messy scout. The sun shone through the branches of the wrenching trees remaining on the land.

That was when you found it. Your breath hitched in your throat, considering the sight in front of you. The water had carried it to the canopy, where the remains of lilac bushes lay still. The long legs of the unicorn lay on the sludge-covered ground. Its beautiful long white mane is all tangled and scattered all across its face, its eyes still open and terrifyingly empty. You didn't even feel your feet move or the tears pouring down your cheeks—just crushing fatigue. It was dead. You were the one who paired it, and now it is gone. God, if you had been faster... Suddenly bursting with adrenaline, you ran and jumped at its side, like you wished you had before it was too late.

You hugged the unicorn's neck as tight as you could, holding on to the vain hope that a heartbeat would be heard. But all you could feel was the wet, cold white coat of the beautiful creature. You couldn't bear to let go; you didn't want to leave it alone. Curled up against its shoulder, you waited. The faint sound of thunder rang through the sky, urging you to look up to that shallow promise that would never make up for anything. Not for the losses, not for the pain. You wish you didn't feel the hurt, but you will be damned if you ever forget the cruelty of that moment.

Footsteps slowly made their way to your miserable form. Your eyes opened on their own, and you looked over to see who interrupted your grieving. And as you thought your heart couldn't be more broken, you let out a desperate cry. Crawley stood there, his golden eyes empty, but his face showed profound sorrow, looking as messed up as you did. A small body draped in a white-drenched sheet was held against his chest. The tightness of his hold reminded you of your own, but the delicacy of his touch made him look so vulnerable. He started walking once again, seeking your eyes, and you felt his misery, adding to your own.

Gently, he rested the small body against the side of the unicorn and patted its head.

"It's not fair." You sobbed, your heart clenching violently, the broken pieces piercing through your lungs.

He kneeled down, seemingly paying his respects like you've seen humans do. "God doesn't exactly do 'fair', if you hadn't noticed."

His red hair hid his face from you, but so did his distress and deep anger. It confused you. Of course you understood how he felt; you just didn't get why. Was it just because it was in his nature to thwart her wishes? But shouldn't he cheer on so many deaths and tragedies? Laugh at pain and suffering, like you have been used to.

"It's just... so cruel, and... I don't..." You couldn't finish the sentence before breaking down in tears. Crawley studied your face, followed the path of your tears, and finally focused on your clenched hands. He inhaled deeply, turned around, sat cross-legged, and gazed up at the sky.

"You might have too much of a sweet heart." In a cheerless joke.

You looked up and saw the majestic bow that adorned the clearing sky among the deadly clouds. It felt like a cynical joke played on you. Mocking you for the naive hope that justice was something God actually cared about.

But... as you peered over the furious demon grieving at your side, you felt less alone and strangely understood. Slowly, your hand went up and down his right arm to soothe his boiling heart, dusting off petals of lilac. He turned around, and you gave him a sad smile.

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33 A.D. Golgotha

It's safe to say you were heavily reprimanded for disappearing like that and letting a unicorn get away, because now, thanks to you, they were all extinct. Great job once again; you kept to yourself. Of course, you didn't mention your encounter to anyone.

And yet they didn't punish you; instead, they put you in charge of their new project, "Jesus." He was an incredible human; he was so full of love and kindness that you suspected they used the essence of the Bound itself. Those thirty-three years were fantastic, and you sure were able to stock up on love. You just wish it didn't have to end so soon.

Now here you were, completely defeated. They always had to do that, didn't they? Someone walked up to you and poked your right arm to get your attention. Surprised, you flinched and turned slowly with wide eyes.

"Oh, Aziraphale." You smiled, happy to see him here, since for some reason he was joyful, despite your circumstances. You had decided to give into your heart, only feeling what other people felt. And also, the filter might be broken; it seemed to work just fine with the guardian angel. He was certainly cheerful to be in the presence of the'son' of God, so it felt nice to feel the same.

Aziraphale smiled in return. "Hello Y/N." He then turned to the scene, and his brows frowned. You couldn't help but stare, like you did in the garden. What about him made you stare? You weren't sure, but you were dead set on noticing all the little details of his expressions. He was so expressive, whether it was through his mouth twitching, teeth gritting, or eyes glittering and squinting. The same goes for his smell; you were sure you could guess everything that was going on inside his head.

"Were you assigned to him ?" The gentle voice whispered, as if not to startle you. You thought about your answer. It wouldn't be logical if only cupids were to care for him, so it wouldn't blow your cover. But why did you want to keep lying so much? You slapped yourself mentally. Because he was a principality, because you showed too much emotion for a heartless being, and because you fricking bound him like a demon! But he was so nice, maybe he wouldn't mind... No.

"Yes, I followed him for most of his life." You smiled quickly but definitely stopped gawking his way. "He is a wonderful person." Tears welled up in your eyes, but you knew his existence was still worth it.

The disturbing sound of cracking bones, the hammer, and Jesus's words brought you back to reality, away from the memories. Why do humans never acknowledge good or beautiful things without having to break them? Love was a tricky concept to them, and they didn't really know when to let things be. Because, come on, he was betrayed by a kiss. They used love and trust as weapons. Humans would rather choose hatred and ignorance if it meant they were right and their pride would remain intact.

"Yes, humans can be dreadful creatures. sometimes." The angel nodded. You looked up, flustered. Being used to having yourself as your only companion made you forget to close your mouth and not get lost in your  reflection."

You flinched when he screamed, and you averted your eyes to the ground. A long black robe came into your view. Climbing up from the dry soil to the eyes of the newcomer, you smelled the spice of the naga viper. Crawley was indeed quite angry, alright ?

"Hi Crawley." You greeted me while taking a step closer to Aziraphale, away from the smell.

He acknowledged your presence with a smile and a nod, and you felt the angel stare behind you. You turned around to identify the emotion slithering from Aziraphale, but it was already gone. Still, he was fidgeting with his fingers and slowly backing away.

"Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you ?" The demon inquired of Azirphale.

"Smirk ? Me ?"

"Well, your lot put him on there." He shrugged.

"What ?" Your incredulous voice resounded louder than you thought. "I thought it was the hate demons." You grasped Aziraphale's sleeve for support, and you fixed him. And he didn't pull away.

"Well, it was, but we, in a sense, let them put him there." He tried to explain the best he could while preserving Heaven's integrity. "And I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley. Otherwise, it would have been a more merciful death." He finally assured you, and you let go, unsure and overall confused.

"Oh, I've changed it."

The two of you turned to Crawley. "Changed what ?" You asked.

"My name. ' Crawl-y' just wasn't really doing it for me. It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish." You chuckled at his explanation.

"Well, you were a snake." Aziraphale smirked, and his brow ticked in a teasing manner.

He was? You gulped and bit your lower lip. Thoughts came in a whirlwind into your mind, and you certainly weren't listening to anything they were saying. God, how many mistakes have you committed? The unicorn, the forbidden bound, and letting the snake tempt Adam and Eve into eating the apple. You were a complete catastrophe.

"Did you ever meet him ?" You heard Aziraphale ask.

The step you tried to take back was stopped by confusion. They were supposed to be linked, and when that happens, the people involved spend a lot of time together, as one would expect. So logically, they would at least know if the other had met someone as important as Jesus. What if... You visualised the surrounding bounds, the complete, yet-to-be finalized and the multitude of possibilities. You darted down to observe the bound of the two and realised you were standing in the middle of it. And to add to your feeling of failure, you realised the bound was anything but completed.

You can't even get that right; you mocked yourself. Laughter and tears wanted to escape your throat. Maybe it was for the better, but still, you couldn't bear to be the reason two people couldn't be together, especially not with such a beautiful bond. Perphas, you could try to shoot them one last time. You considered the thought for a moment and slowly decided against it. That was until you heard Jesus cry in pain once again.

"Oh, that has got to hurt." Crawl—no, Crowley hissed. You sniffed, but a small smile settled on your lips. The sound alerted the angel that spined to see you.

"He'll be alright, dear." He reassured me while tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you.

"For sure. Like I said, he's a bright man who wouldn't even hurt a fly; he'll go right up there." Crowley assured me too, gazing up at the sky.

You scratched your arm and hummed in response. Jesus was being horribly tortured for the ideal that love was the best thing life had to offer, and he priotized beyond anything else. The feeling was mutual; you wanted to live by that, if only your peers didn't make it sound so out of place. But you thought the least you could do to honour your philanthropic companion was to respect his beliefs.

"I'll be heading home... I'm heading to heaven. Gotta prepare for his arrival." Your eyes were lost staring at some rock on the ground before retreating away and weaving. "Bye, bye."

"You're sure-" Aziraphale tried, but you were already gone, middling in the crowd where you belonged. A faceless stranger that no one recognised. You turned your blindness spell on and flew up in the sky. You glanced down on the pair and laughed to yourself while aiming. Hopefully you wouldn't have to shoot them again, but come on: how many more arrows would this bound need ?

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41 A.D. Rome

Your invisible form was flying through the streets of Rome at a daring speed. Footsteps running on stone pavers and clothing rubbing against the rough surfaces of the city walls rang in the air. The giggles of the youthful couple were mixing with your own as you twirled around in pure delight. Oh, the sheer happiness of being young and deeply believing that their first love story would last forever.

It might be surprising to hear for some, but cupids were not shooting at every couple. It is your principal job, but most importantly, you were supposed to make sure the world's boundaries were constantly supplied with love. Of course, bounds were the most secure way of ensuring it; not every love story was meant to last forever. And young love is one of the most powerful types, beside unconditional love, as it is filled with hope and innocence.

The young man suddenly grabbed his lover's hand and pulled him into a small, secluded alley. You clapped your hands and soared up in the sky to land on the rooftop of a house. You crawled your way to the hedge of it and gawked down on them with a wide smile. The smaller boy was backed against the wall while his partner was smothering him with kisses on her nose, cheeks, and throat. His arms were passed around his neck as he hugged him lovingly. You supported your head with your hands settled against your cheeks.

The taller boy separated himself from his neck, and he used this opportunity to kiss him passionately. A huge wave of love came rushing up to you, and you inhaled it with vigour, both with your nose and mouth. It raised you on your knees and made you fall down on your back. You basked in the reinvigorating feeling and strung out profusely. The cold stone made the exposed skin of your legs shudder, but the warmth you felt in your heart surpassed any other sensations. It filled your stomach, and you were completely sated.

You hummed deliciously and observed the sky. Now, you were thirsty and still riled up from the emotion, and as always, you didn't know how to manage the thrills coursing through your system. As you came to understand, humans had different ways of dealing with such stirs. The more your body experienced, the more you contemplated your options; you just didn't have the guts to try. Whether it was food, sleep, or sex, You didn't know why; you just had that urge to be human.

Of course, it was absolutely inconceivable for your fellow angels and certainly for the demons too, if you were honest. It was just a different side of yourself that you started to discover. As strange as it is to say, acknowledging to yourself that you made terrible mistakes on Earth made you feel wonderfully uninhibited. You just lack the courage and actual safety to try.

Being unable to talk to anyone about it made you feel so insecure and scared. What if something went wrong ? What if your gifted body wasn't made to experiment anything 'humanly'? Oh Jesus, what if you exploded?! Yes, you had an inexplicable fear of exploding, and you had no idea where it came from. You just needed someone to... Well, actually, you just needed someone.

You rolled to your side and listed all the endeavours you wanted to throw yourself into when you felt an oddly familiar presence. You were alone most of the time; no one was really 'homey' in your heart. So, you kept rolling towards the busiest street, forsaking the lovey-dovey couple. It was a restaurant, and a busy one at that. Still, you managed to spot a red-headed man with much shorter hair than you remembered.

You looked down at your hands, still doubting the choice you made eight years ago. To appease your mind, you slipped down and called off the spell. Maybe they were on a date. Did they eat food ? Yes, you had your priorities neatly organised.

You peeked the upper part of your head through the door frame and found Crowley sitting alone on a stool. Scanning around the restaurant, you were met with the queer sight of Aziraphale playing on his own. Well, maybe it was a tradition of theirs...

"What have you got? Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable." He leisured. It peaked your interest, but you didn't initiate any movements. You watched intently when you saw Aziraphale get up from his seat and go up to the demon.

"Crawley- Crowley ? Well, fancy running into you here." Damn, they are definitely the least communicative couple you have ever encountered! Certainly, a bound like that would make it so much harder for them to be apart. You flashed your eyes pink, and that was when you summoned your vision. And you felt like screaming. Their link was still incomplete !

"Y/N ? Golly, it's quite a reunion." Aziraphale chuckled, clapping his hands. He gestured for you to come to the counter too. Unsure, you tiptoed your way towards them. Your mouth opened slightly when you saw the two drinks lying there.

Aziraphale followed your eyes and chirped. "Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a drink too, dear ?"

You blushed and started playing with your fingers. "I never consumed anything from Earth." The stutters you let out doubled the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Anything ?" Crowley insinuated, even though you didn't catch what he meant. The angel did, though, and tsked in a reprimanding tone.

"Still a demon, then?" He gave him a side eye.

The redhead snarked in response. "What kind of stupid question is that,'still a demon?' What else am I going to be, an aardvark?" The angel didn't listen, however, and ordered a drink for you.

You looked down, feeling like you were overstepping a private discussion. Sheesh, your shot has been totally useless, heh? You were really good for nothing, cupid, now were you? "It's really nice of you, but..."

"Here you go, apple and pear juice." The bartender served you right before you could slip away. You eyed the goblet and sniffed the sweet smell of appel and pear, the scent of endermant.

"Don't worry, the taste is way sweeter than house brown; it'll be easier for a first try." His round hand was handing you the drink, and you gently grabbed it, brushing your fingers against his. Bubbles were twirling in your stomach at his consideration.

"Thanks." You mumbled. Crowley huffed with a smirk. When you met his gaze shyly, he winked and grabbed his own cup. A gentle and warm sensation envelopped your body, and you held your cup closer to yourself.

"Salutaria." Aziraphale cheered and went to clank both of your goblets. You and Crowley met him in the hallway, and the vibrations caused your skin to create goosebumps. You enjoyed the feeling, especially when you ran your fingers alongside the texture, like you were doing unconsciously on your right arm. Freezing mid-thought, you rushed to see that your heavily scarred forearm was exposed for anyone to see.

Hiding it in such a hurry caused the pair to study you. You forced out a laugh and raised your glass again. "Heh, a moment of hesitation." You said this before bringing the cup to your lips. In the corner of your sight, you saw the angel moisten his lips.

"So, why are you in Rome for?" Crowley wondered, not caring at all for your discovery, as he finished his drink. You hummed in delight; your taste buds felt like exploding. You darted your tongue out and rolled it around the bit of honeyed pear that couldn't quite enter your mouth. Crowley gulped audibly, as he apparently didn't finish his bevarage as you thought he did.

"Mmh... I thought I'd try Petronius' new restaurant." Adding to the fruity liquid, a heavy wave of macarons and rosé made its way to your nose. You laughed breathlessly, and you were brought back to the conversation. "I hear it does remarkable things to oysters."

"I've never eaten an oyster." Crowley confessed. Do people eat rocks? You tilted your head, confused.

"Oh, well, let me tempt you to..." Aziraphale started, making you gasp.

You weren't the only one spurred up by the vocabulary of the angel; Crowley suddenly turned around to meet his gaze. That is when you noticed he covered his eyes. Despite this, Crowley still looked somewhat exasperated for some reason but was giving hints of macarons as well. Perphas, they were so flustered because you caught them on their date.

"No, that's—that's your job, isn't it?" His expression was tight, laughing through his teeth, his eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

To make sure you weren't the problem, you tried to suggest you join them on their little trip. "I might try an oyster."

He sputtered, realising the mistake he had made. "Oh God... Mh, the taste might be a bit too rich for you." You licked your lips, chasing the saccharine flavour. Crowley looked etched and suggested something out of sympathy.

"They'll be simpler food..."

You put the goblet down and backed. "Don't mind me, I'll see myself out; I still have some, huh, miracles to do!" It was a lie, of course; your lot didn't perform miracles on a daily basis, but you didn't think much of it. Oddly enough, lying didn't bother you that much.

You were so ashamed. You didn't understand why your bow didn't work. Some couples weren't easy to finalise, but you had already shot them twice. Plus, their bound wasn't strained or weak; it wasn't a technical mistake. So why ? "Have fun." You hoped your smile would encourage them to dine together, in spite of your interruption.

"Y/N-" The crowd already covered your body, while you wasted no time scampering away. The moment you were out of breath, you had arrived at the market. Inhaling deeply, you straightened yourself up, trying to sort out your thoughts. Obviously, something was wrong, whether it had to do with you or with them. If it failed not only once but twice, it's because it wasn't meant to be at all. Continuing would be pointless; you had to give them up. You had to.

Why, in the name of love, could you not make up your mind around the idea? Why couldn't you shake off the feeling of excitement you felt when those two were together? Certainly, a bound that would send such love could not be a miscalculation. They made you feel so good, and the theory of your possible addiction is becoming much more plausible now. But you refused to get addicted to them. You had to leave them; if they were meant to end up together, they would eventually do it on their own.

"Would you like to try an oyster, dear customer ?" A merchant interpellated you, since you had stopped only a few steps away. You observed the display of rocks and took a curious look at the seller.

"How do you eat them?" You asked.

"It's easy; come see." He called you over. First, he held the head in a firm grip and brought a knife to the tail of the pebble. He then twisted the knife around and finally slipped it inside. You raised one brow at your own dirty mind and looked away. Finally, as you didn't watch the rest of the show, he levelled the now-open rock to your face. "And you eat what's inside."

You studied the bogger-like thing and sluppered the whole thing, afraid of the taste. And surprising enough, you loved the taste of it, even if the viscous consistency made it hard for you to properly touch it with your tongue. You wondered what it would have been like if you went with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Jesus, you wanted to slap yourself. Stop thinking about them; you couldn't break your new resolution so quickly. And still, the thoughts kept rushing in! How caring the angel had been when he offered you a gentler beverage. The strange device that rested on Crowley's nose, which hid his pretty yellow eyes, The visible fluffiness of Aziraphale's whole being. Or the sweet gesture Crowley had for you, even though you had imposed yourself between him and the white-haired man.

Ok, you are ceasing at all, Y/N; this is ridiculous. You just had to be a burden, now don't you? All of a sudden, a hand tapped on your shoulder, but you were too irritated to answer politely.

"What ?" You snapped and shook the hand right off your shoulder.

And you turned around. You were sadly met with a slack-jawed Mihael, a colleague and former friend of yours, before the war. She was walking—well, you thought she did—but she still floated a few inches above the ground. Her dark pink eyes scanned your face, your fully expressive face, and trailed down to where you lay. She saw you eating, walking, and feeling. Oh God, she saw you snap, broodi, and enjoy. Worst of all, she was, out of all the cupids, the most documented about your situation. Mihael knew. It made her terribly dangerous.

"Please..." You pleaded, reaching out to her, but it only made it worse. She pranced as if she had been burned by your aching hands. Wors couldn't align together.

"Mihael, wait !" You ran after her, but she had already taken off and activated her blindness spell. "No, for heaven's sake !" You then tried to scream your disapproval out of your heart. Running away was the first thing that popped into your mind. Maybe go to the bottom of the abyss to properly cool down. That's how Mihael would come back, or if you were summoned, you'd be perfectly capable of faking your emptiness.

You sighed and detected the scent of desire. It was a brothel—a fancy one. You contemplated the idea of entering and finally deciding to indulge in your sinful interests. Hey, you were about to spend a fair amount of time away from all civilization, not even having light as your company. It would just be another line you'd cross, but you stopped counting the moment you bound an angel and a demon together.Oh God, could you just stop thinking about it? Ugh...

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1354, Balkan merchant caravan, Greece

"We can't just keep every infant we find, Y/N. She's not our kin." Elif lectured you severely. Who was Elif, you may ask? He's the head of the merchant group you've been following for a couple of months. You had met him and his wife a few years ago, for obvious reasons, and now you travel with them in the hope of providing the parental love the two craved.

However, they were never able to conceive. So when you found this little baby girl, you knew she needed them as much as they needed her. Convincing Nazli was easy, Elif—eh, not so much. He wouldn't have an unknown baby as his child.

"We will give her to the next village with a stop-by, and that's final." He gave you a stern look and walked away to the group of men gathering around the fire.

It would have been easy to use an emotional orb to persuade him to keep her, but you knew their link would be hollow and fake; it would never last. You sighed and caressed the chubby face wrapped in a tight blanket, nested in the woman's arms. Her eyes pleaded your way, and you sent her a wave of reassurance.

"I'll take care of it, love. Don't worry." You smiled. You jumped out of the caravan and stretched your arms and back. The night sky was truly a beauty. On the day of your creation, though it's all a blur, you remember that it was also the same day all the stars were brought into existence. It was incredible, a majestic moment you wished you could recall more clearly, but your mind was funny like that.

You sighed, the memories of your last meeting with Mihael coming back to the surface, as you did four hundred years after you spent sleeping in the ocean. Honestly, you didn't mean to sleep; it was just all so peaceful, you couldn't help it. She hadn't said anything to Jophiel or Chamuel, not even her own linked! You were so thankful for that. Adriel was a real pain in the ass.

She came to you, more worried than anything else. I apologise until your ears bleed; you still didn't show the full spectrum of your emotions. You didn't trust her. All Mihael did was warn you, advise you to show minimal emotion, and keep better track of your environment.

Following her recommendation, you strayed from your kindness while still providing enough love so they would let you be. Through all your experiences, the distance between you and your peers grew larger, and even if you shared your emotional capacity, you knew you were a freak. It was all too strong. You felt alone in your emotions. Alone in the world. Under the vast canopy of the night sky, with stars twinkling like distant beacons of hope, you stood alone in the deserted land, your heart heavy with a profound sense of isolation. The world around her seemed to fade into insignificance as she gazed up at the infinite expanse above, feeling small and insignificant against the backdrop of the cosmos.

As you traced the patterns of constellations with your weary eyes, a wave of emptiness washed over you, engulfing you in a sea of solitude. Each glittering star seemed to mock you with its unreachable brilliance, a reminder of the vast distances that separated you from the rest of your kind. The soft breeze brushed your hair, bringing along a particular smell. Images of a certain red-haided demon flashed through your mind. A gasp fell out of your lips, and your heart swelled, beating wildly. You searched franticly, bouncing on your toes.

The moment you spot him, you want to rush and greet him, but his posture and behaviour stop you. Crowley is standing next to a caravan, seemingly hiding behind it. Confused, you take baby steps towards him and wait. Once you arrive near him, you get to see what he was watching.

Thieves and barbarians were steathly making their way down the hilltop to the merchants. They were barely visible to the eye; the bright glow of the campfire seemed to warn the good people, but no one seemed to notice. You bit down on your lip when you realised it was certainly your friend's work. Friend ? You meant the client. The anger you felt wasn't directed at him, and it surprised you.

Well, no, what surprised you the most was his next action. While you thought Crowley was here to supervise everything that went smoothly, he instead did something unexpected. He straightened up, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. You frowned, completely lost. Now, you were standing right behind him, peeking to see the scene unfold.

A huge piece of marchandise rolled out of a cart, one facing the approaching criminals. Elif, who had been conversing with his men, snapped his eyes at the bag before scanning the area around it. Including the bushy hill. The man spotted the group and alerted the others to get ready to fight or hide. You gasped and glanced over Nazli and the baby, but they were far enough away and well hidden.

Your eyes soften at the realisation of what Crowley just did. He also seemed quite satisfied with his actions, and you knew he was congratulating himself. Yeah, you smelled the mix of whipped cream and blueberries. A smug smirk appeared on your face, and you decided to scare him just a bit.

"How much has changed since I left?" You spoke up playfully, making sure to be as sudden as possible. And your wish was answered when Crowley spun around violently, screaming and bolting away from you.

You laughed despite yourself, but the demon was too stunned to really care. "Y/N ?! You scared the hell out of me!" He crowed.

"It seems like you didn't need my help for that." You accused me teasingly, a brow raised.

His widened eyes finally shrank down, and he gulped. "It's not what it looks like." His voice sounded almost pleading, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Crowley, it's okay. I ain't going to denounce you." You took a step forward and tilted your head. "But I will ask you questions." The struggles of battle could be heard, with the thieves charging at the campers.

He groaned and ran a hand in his hair. It grew longer since the last time, probably multiple times since it had been centuries since you two encountered each other. It seemed to be tied into a low ponytail, and his clothes were still as black as the night, in comparison to yours, which were always colourful.

"So... why are you doing the angels work ?"

He sighed and took some time to respond, allowing the gooshing sound of blood hitting the ground to fill the air. "I guess I could tell you..." Crowley took off his glasses and searched into your eyes. In return, you offered him an encouraging smile.

"Me and Aziraphale made an arrangement... We stay out of each other's way and help when we can." He crossed his arm against his chest, leaning again against the caravan.

"Seem simple enough..." You shrugged before frowning. "Don't... don't Heaven and Hell suspect anything ?" Your voice reflects your concern.

A dagger was thrown your way. Crowley grabbed onto your sleeve and pulled you out of its trajectory, next to him. "Nah, they never suspect anything; you know how they are." He tried to act casual, but you did smell relieved that you didn't freak out.

You hummed and chuckled. "Yeah.." A kind of comfortable relationship settled between the two of you, but you couldn't shake the awakening remaining. Leaving abruptly and disaperating for centuries will do that for you.

"Where have you been ?" The redhead inquired.

You inhaled deeply before answering. "I visited the abyss for a while, and... I kind of fell asleep."

Crowley's impressed smile echoed your embarrassed one when he turned toward you. "You fell asleep ?" He nagged with a chuckle. "For how long ?"

"For about four centuries..." You rubbed the back of your head. The air abruptly carried the piercing cries of the infant, grabbing your attention and sending them right back to your clients. You gasped sharply and held your breath. Two barbarians were sprinting towards the poor woman and the baby. Nazli did her best at keeping them at bay, swinging her sabre around and cutting them off enough to prevent them from getting closer. But their patience was running thin.

"Nazli !" Alerted by gut-wrenching cries, Elif called out to his wife, his eyes widening with terror. But he had no time to think; no, he rushed into action. The chief slashed his way to his love, not stopping for anything. Not even the cart right in front of him, where you and Crowley were currently leaning against.

"Wow." The two of you mused in chorus as the chief jumped right over your heads and landed right behind the two men. He brought his long, curvy dagger to the first's throat and slit it wide open. The cries of the baby kept ranging through the air as you watched in awe and slight disgust as the crimson liquid poured down in a thick puddle on the soil.

"Ew." You murmured, earning a scoff from Crowley, who observed the scene with arms crossed over his chest. The other thief punched Elif in the face, but he couldn't care less. He spit out a mixture of blood and saliva and then plunged his dagger into the attacker's chest with all the rage he could muster.

"Mh, talk about killing for love." Crowley commented. But didn't answer. Instead, you looked at the scene tenderly. Elif helped his wife get out of the caravan, putting his hands around her and the baby. That's when the infant instinctively grabbed onto the man's finger. By the way his breath caught in his throat, you knew it pulled right at his heartstrings. You couldn't help but smile like a complete goof.

After what felt like hours, the marchants finally won their battle. Now was the time to mend wounds and sooth souls. Crowley stayed with you the entire night, giving you two hours to catch up. And despite how much you struggled to admit it, you did enjoy spending time with him. Not because he was a dreadful company, quite the opposite. But you knew you had to keep your distance.

Right now, you sat next to each other, watching the spouses cuddle the baby. In the soft glow of the rising dawn, Elif and Nazli sat side by side next to the fire, their hands clasped together in a silent gesture of love and solidarity. The room was bathed in the warm hues of sunrise, casting a soft, golden light upon their faces.

"Nazli." Her husband began, his voice filled with emotion, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said... Maybe we should take her in."

Nazli's eyes lit up with delight, her heart swelling with gratitude for the man she loved more than words could express. You swore in that instead, as you smelt the intoxicating scent of love, you could sink back into the deep abyss and leave solely on the memory of their love.

"Oh, Elif.." She exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Do you really mean it ?"

Elif nodded, a smile spreading across his face as he reached out to gently caress his wife's cheek. "Yes." He replied, his voice filled with conviction, "I mean it with all my heart. I want nothing more than to offer you the family you always wanted." His hand caressed the small baby's hair. "Offer her the family she needs. Little Qamirah." He smiled foundly.

Tears of joy welled in Nazli's eyes as she threw her right arm around her husband, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, my love," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. You smiled tenderly and glanced towards Crowley, your hand gesturing to the couple. He smiled softly and rolled his eyes in anoyance, but you knew how he truly felt.

You retreated from the wholesome, resting your head back against the wooden cart. "Maybe this deal isn't such a bad idea after all."

Crowley mirrored your chuckle. "I guess you could be added to the contract." He jested teasingly.

You gasped happily and smiled. "Really ?"

"Sure, but it'd be best if you stayed on the surface of Earth for that." He nudged your elbow with his own.

"Don't worry." You streched your back and raised your covered arms high in the sky.

Crowley frowned as he took notice of the clothing. "Afraid you'll get a tan?" He teased.

You bit your lip and caressed your right arm. "Nah, more like a fashion choice." You winked. Crowley laughed hoarsely and then streched up his arm. You watched softly as he got up and dusted himself off.

"I'd love to stay, but I got some reel demonic work to do." He waved off and had already started to walk away. In a matter of seconds, you got up and followed after him. Somehow, you didn't want to let him leave, at least not this way.

"Wait !" You called, and Crowley stopped midstep.

"What ?" He turned softly.

Instead of answering, you sprinted towards your caravan and grabbed a plant you had snatched when you went to the other side of Earth and spent time with the Tupi-Guarani ivilization. They have wonderful, complex social structures, rich oral traditions, and extensive knowledge of the natural world. Ah, what a wonderful vacation !

You pulled out the plant; they called it the flower of the moon. It was a stunning plant, prized for its graceful, glossy foliage and elegant white flowers. With its lush, dark green leaves that arch gracefully from the base, the moon flower produces delicate, white flowers with a central spadix surrounded by a white, petal-like spathe. "There you go!" You handed it to him with a bright smile.

Crowley observed this little beauty of nature before looking up at you with an unimpressed expression. "A plant ?"

You rolled your eyes. "Not just a plant, a moon flower. But it's so great to have one of those! You never really feel alone."

His bright yellow eyes stared into your own before he smirked. "It was time for you to emmerge, sweetheart." He nagged.

You pouted and nudged his arm. "Shush. Take the plant, a gift for everything you taught me." He groaned and took it anyway.

"Just so you know, if it dies, it's not my fault." His warning made you chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind." You winked. "Thank you for your help." He simply nodded as a goodbye before disappearing from thin air.

As you stood there, you felt loneliness crawling its way back onto your shoulders. All the while you stayed with the demon, you never once felt alone. And more than that, you truly experience true understanding, and it was so refreshing... The irony of the situation was truly oddly amusing to you. You didn't trust another cupid, one of your kind, to display every emotion you could have. But it felt so natural to do so with a guardian angel and a demon. Swallowing with difficulty, you observed the newly founded family and felt something echo deep into your soul.

You laughed—a mixture of disbelief and strange relief. Not only were you one of a kind, but you also found out that you weren't alone in this. Yep, maybe you could indulge yourself in their company... Just a tinsy bit...

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1793, La Bastille, Paris

"Rattrapes la, bon sang!" You yelled at the young woman, hoping she would finally decide to run after her friend.

"Non, Y/N." She dismissed her sternly, though the tears threatened to leave her eyes. "Elle a fait son choix; c'est son problème." Turning away from you, she hid her feelings for her friend from you. At least she tried.

You groaned and added exasperation. "Elle a juste eu peur, Lucie. Robespierre est en train de couper des têtes à la volée; c'est tout à fait normal!" Lucie's 'roomate' Madeleine had joined her during the revolution, but the more the franzy took over, the more scared she became. People began beheading anyone who was against the Republic ideology, which included severing the heads of nicely dressed people.

Obviously, an argument ensued, and Madeleine decided to run away from Paris all together, to be safe from all the madness. Lucie wanted to stay, to continue the fight, but you knew she loved her more than anything. And here you were stuck between the two, trying desperately to smooth things over and reunite them. Which was insanely difficult.

"Alors quoi, tu vas la laisser partir? Ne plus jamais la revoir?" You tried to reason with her.

"Absolument !" She exclaimed and threw her hands in the air, acting like a spoiled brat. All of this was still too fresh. Lucie was immensly offended and hurt by her lover's words; there was no way to calm her down right this moment.

So you sighed and ruffled your hair. "D'accord, si c'est ce que tu veux..." Softly, you turned away from her. "Mais n'oublies pas qu'elle ne part que demain matin... agis avant que tu le regrettes." You threw her one last glance towards her, giving her time to pound.

As you made your way towards the square, you saw a couple young men tearing out pavers from the street and children gathering wood for their home. The city streets bustled with the fervour of revolution, while you kept seeking solace amidst the chaos that engulfed the lovely city. The distant echoes of revolutionary chants mingled with the clatter of horse-drawn carriages and the murmur of lively conversations, creating a symphony of sound that enveloped you in a cocoon of anonymity.

With each step you took, you felt the echo of Lucie's convictions pressing down on your stomach—the burden of long, agonising memories hanging over your heart, ready to come crashing down any second. The events of the day had left you shaken and unsettled, your mind swirling with thoughts of rebellion and resistance that once again didn't originate from you.

As you kept walking, you found yourself drawn towards the quieter corners of the city, away from the tumultuous crowds and swirling currents of political intrigue. Picking up a small yarrow, you softly palyed with it in between your fingers. As you wandered through narrow alleyways adorned with quaint cafes and bustling market stalls, your sensitive nose smelled of Parisian life and emotions.

With each passing moment, the rhythm of your footsteps became a mantra, a soothing cadence that calmed your racing thoughts and grounded her in the present moment. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you rolled up your sleeves, enjoying the relaxing wind on your scarred arm. The scent of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices was a comforting reminder of the simple pleasures that still existed amidst the turmoil of the revolution.

Slowly, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the beauty of your surroundings, finding solace in the timeless elegance of Parisian architecture and the soft glow of gas lamps that illuminated the streets like beacons of hope in the darkness. You brought the small white flower up to your nose and inhaled its scent deeply.

And as you flew up to a moonlight-bathed rooftop, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing yourself to bask in the stillness of the sky. Reajusting your red béret on your head correctly, your eyes suddenly snapped down to two guards guiding an overly dressed and white figure away towards the Place de la Révolution, where the crowd was gathered around the guillotine.

And you knew who he was, for sure. "Oh God, Aziraphale..." You sighed and shook your head. The angel had quite particular taste in clothing, so it wasn't really a surprise when you spot him parade in Paris with such expensive clothes. Yeah, he always had a way to miss social clues. So, you flew back, saying farewell to your newly found peace, and followed them from a safe distance.

For your part, you dressed as the typical revolutionary Parisian, while slightly more colourful, so you had no trouble sneaking inside the prison, dodging the aristocrats being taken away by the very clear slashing sounds and screams coming from the lace. You kept searching among the moist cobblestones until you heard Aziraphale's gentle voice.

"Look, this is all a terrible mistake." He assured me while you slowly peeked your head from behind the cold stone wall. "I don't think you understand."

"I have good news for you. You are the 999th aristocrat to die at the guillotine by my hand." The man affirmed himself cheerfully, like a proud collector. "But the first English." You rolled your eyes at the statement, still waiting for the right moment to interfere. Why did Aziraphale not consider using a miracle? Why risk discorporation, especially such a painful one ?

"Now..." The man started before you heard him move around.

Before you understood what he was doing, Aziraphale got up, his chains clanking on the ground. "Please ! No."

You frowned, anger bubbling in your stomach and your teeth gritting. No way I'm letting him hurt Aziraphale... A rush of adrenaline washed over you, but just before you could intervene, a voice spoke from behind you.

"How about we help our little friend, mh ?"

A loud, high-pitched yelp escaped from your throat, and you turned violently around. Crowley was looking at you through his sunglasses and mocking a smurk on his lips. You let out the breath you kept in your lungs and growled.

"Don't do that." You scowled.

He shrugged and leaned over the prison cell. "It's just payback, sweetheart." He mumbled in a low voice and snapped his fingers, causing your brow to raise.

"Animals." The angel grumbled, deeply reproachful. You smiled and pushed the cell door open.

"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel." Crowley said before sitting down nonchalantly.

"I'm afraid only humans do that." You added, standing with your hands behind your back.

"You..." Aziraphale sighed, and you smelled utter relief emitting from him. "Good Lord..." He smiled, rolling his eyes. You close up to him and gently remove the chains from his wrists. Your eyes trailed on his clothes, and you scoffed. Long white coat, richly decorated vest, obviously tailored pants, gee... The only thing you missed was the way your friend looked down at your hands, his breathing picking up slightly.

"What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?" Crowley inquired from his corner. "I thought you were opening a book shop."

"In London, nontheless." You finally got rid of the metal and let it fall loudly to the ground. Stepping away from him, the angel had space to take a deep breath and explain himself.

"Well, I was. I got peckish." He pouted, rubbing his bruising wrists.

Crowley smirked. "Peckish ?"

Aziraphale couldn't meet your gaze as you tasted funnel cake in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if you must know, it was the crêpes." You chuckled in response.

"Crêpes ? Don't they make 'em in England?"

"Not as good as the ones you find in Paris, that's for sure. Oh, and the brioche." He assured me, filled with conviction. You shook your head and kept laughing.

"So you just popped across the channel during a revolution because you wanted something to nibble?" The demon almost, ironically, lectured.

You shrugged. "Meh, I could understand. But not dressed like that, Azy." A smirk took place on your face.

He eyed you two up and down and then stated: "I have standards." In all your responses, you stuck out your tongue. "I did hear they were getting a bit carried away over here, but..."

"Yeah, this is not getting carried away. This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine." The red head pointed out his slight resentment.

You nodded in agreement, but tried to bring up the positive. "At least, they are quite creative." But all you earned in return were jaded looks from your two clients. You raised up your hands to plead your innocence. "But, why didn't you miracle your way out?"

An effective way to change the subject. Aziraphale looked down once again. "Oh, I was reprimanded last month." You glanced towards Crowley, and you shared a knowing look. "They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel."

Your lips twitched in a contrite pout. Only imagining what Chamuel would do if you ever got reported didn't settle quite with you, and the last thing you wanted was to bring to yourself. In a way, you were envious of how Aziraphale had even the chance to make a mistake.

Crowley stood up and strolled towards you. "Well, you're lucky I was in the area."

"We." You wasted no time correcting him.

Aziraphale scoffed. "I suppose I am." A soft smile appeared on his face, and the faintest blush appeared as he gawked at the two of you. "Why are you here?" He frowned.

"My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance." The demon answered first, waving off his own statement.

Aziraphale gasped and got agitated again. "So all this is your demonic work?" He gestured towards the raging crowd.

"No. The humans thought it up themselves. Nothing to do with me." Now it was Crowley's turn to clear his name. So, there is a chance for you to restore your image.

"Heh, I told you, creative." You chirped proudly. But the same silence welcomed your words. You sighed, and your shoulders fell. "Fine..."

"Well..." Azirphale talked up again after a few seconds of judging silence. "I suppose I should say thank you for the, uh, rescue." He swung his arms from either side of his body softly.

"Don't say that." Crowley suddenly surged forward and snarled, startling you slightly. "If my people hear I join forces with an angel to save another, I'll be the one in trouble."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, already starting to walk away. Over the centuries, you learned to leave these two whenever they started to have a moment. "And my lot, do not send rude notes." Crowley's voice was fading and was replaced by your own footsteps.

"Well, anyway, I'm very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?" Aziraphale offered. You stopped in the middle of the hallway and, at a turn, smiled, melancolic, before foresaking their conversation. Even though it didn't stop there.

"What do you think, Y/N?" The red head stopped mid-sentence as he noticed you were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do they always do?"

Once again, you didn't join them for lunch. Why would you? They were just clients. You repeated this to yourself all the time, hoping one day it would finally make its way to your brain. But this desire never went away, despite how many times you echoed your words over and over again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the slowing city, you stepped out of a restaurant, crêpe in hand. Obviously, to avoid any unwanted attention, you made sure to pass by Lucie and, thank you enough, Madeleine. Quietly munching on your treat, you observed their bodies finally coming together. The tension that had lingered between them for so long seemed to melt away in the fading light, replaced by a tentative sense of reconciliation. They were a few feet away from each other, but still Lucie reached out tentatively, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the blonde's cheek, her eyes filled with regret and longing.

"Je suis désolée, Madeleine." She whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of leaves. "Je n'ai jamais voulu te faire de mal." Tears softly formed in her eyes. "Je t'aime plus de tout au monde." She confessed, her voice breaking under the emotion.

Madeleine's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached out to clasp her lover's hand in her own, the relieving scent of forgiveness filling the air. "Je t'aime aussi, Lucie." She replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "J'ai juste eu tellement peur... tout ce qui passe en ce moment..." Her breath quickened once again through her fear.

"Je sais, je sais, et je m'en excuses. Mais je te promets qu'il ne t'arrivera jamais rien, jamais." She assured, so determined with the firm intention to protect Madeleine until her last breath.

And in that moment, as they sat together beneath the canopy of clouds, you felt a pang of longing tug at your heartstrings, a silent reminder of the feelings you had buried deep within your soul. It wasn't the first time you felt envious, but you would never let those feelings settle in your heart. The choice you made so many centuries ago will never change. However, as you watched from the sidelines, you were unable to recognise the truth that lay dormant within your own soul.

Lucie and Madeleine embraced, their love rekindled amidst the fragrant blooms and gentle whispers of the night, as they finally found solace in each other's arms. "Ça ira mon amour..." Lucie hugged Madeleine tightly against her chest as she continued to sob her relief and fear. "Ça ira pour toujours."

Yeah, it will be okay. You bit off a bit of your crêpe, the mixture of the taste of love and your little snack warming up your belly in the best way. You got up and stretched out your arm, bow in hand. And while you shot the two of them, you kept hoping that one day you would be at peace with your choice.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

 

1811, Windsor Caslte, London

The grand ballroom shimmered under the warm glow of candlelight, its walls adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded accents. As the musicians tuned their instruments, the air buzzed with anticipation. Ladies draped in silk and lace, gentlemen adorned in tailored coats, assembled in a choreographed display of social refinement. As the orchestra struck the first notes, couples gracefully glided across the polished floor, engaged in the intricate steps of the minuet. The scent of perfumed wigs mingled with the delicate fragrance of flowers scattered throughout the hall. Servants discreetly circulated, offering glasses of fine wine to the elegantly attired guests. You swiftly grasped a glass and nodded to the young woman, thankfully.

Amidst the rhythmic rustle of silk and the subdued murmur of conversations, the atmosphere exuded a sense of sophistication and regality. The ball at the court of George III unfolded as a spectacle of grace, where every movement and gesture spoke the language of grace and societal hierarchy. You strolled among the crowd to fade into the background while observing two enemies dancing together. The line between love and hate was so thin. You couldn't help but feel drawn to them, despising the risk of facing a hate demon. She was sent to kill him, a duke, but they've been dancing for hours now. The tension was there—the ballroom, the dancing—if you wanted to, you could just send a wave of temerity, and the deal would be sealed!

I continued to stroll in a circle around the couple, listening to the music softly. You enjoyed the sweet melodies and the frail details of each note; it made your heart react differently to every song. You hummed the languishing melody as you closed up to the buffet, where you were met with a familiar presence. Your head softly snapped to study the table covered with baked goods, and you smiled brightly as you recognised the person. Rushing to his side, you wasted no time greeting him.

"Aziraphale !" You chirped as you stood a few feet away from him. The white-haired angel was startled, as he didn't expect you here, even less to catch him with his mouth full. He let out a muffled exclamation before swallowing with difficulty.

He coughed a bit before greeting you back. "Y/N, hello!" Aziraphale smiled and closed up to you ever so slightly. "Golly, I haven't seen you since the bastille." His whole presence was so warm, and you couldn't help but bask in it.

You nodded, still smiling like an idiot, as you looked at him up and down. "I'm relieved to see you understood how to dress according to the situation." You teased him playfully and nudged him gently. Worry had eaten you up for a long time since the last time you saw the trusting angel almost getting disintegrated, so it was refreshing to see him well and still so fluffy-looking.

"O-Oh.." He smiled, embarrassed, while rubbing where you had touched his arm. He laughed softly. "Yes, I learned my lesson well enough."

You grinned gently before grabbing a small snack from the display of food. "So, what have you been doing here?" You munched softly on the little dish before looking back up at him.

"Oh, well, I've been sent here to perform some miracles, as always." Aziraphale explained. "But I must admit that I stayed for the music and the food." He hummed as he picked out something too. "Ah !"

You laughed softly at him and took in the ballroom once more. "I see. It's nice to see another angel enjoying music too."

His eyes seemed to sparkle when he nodded. "Indeed, it is." He smiled, his squishy cheekbones raising up. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but blush at his attention, though you would not admit it. To shake those ideas out of your head and tilt your head towards the intricate dancing. "Even danced before?" You wondered, taking the last sip of your wine.

"Oh, heavens no..." Aziraphale dismissed you, while you still caught his yearning gaze directed to the dance floor. "Angels don't dance."

You raised your brows, your lips pouting in an agreeable manner. "True, but we are one of a kind." The smirk on your face was nothing but devilish.

He exhaled deeply and shook his head. "You spend too much time with Crowley." The last dance came to an end, and the room roared with delicate applause. Aziraphale kept fidgeting with his fingers, longing to join in on the next dance.

"By the way, I know the steps of the minuet." You trailed off casually. "I could guide you." A small grin creeped into the corner of your mouth.

His chest swelled quickly at your words. "You do?"

twirledYou didn't ans;er him, instead, you giggled and led him to the dance floor. In the dimly lit ballroom, the strains of a delicate melody of the song 'St James' House' twirling in the air. With a gentle yet firm touch, you guided him through the intricate steps of the dance, your movements fluid and effortless. As you two glided across the polished floor, your poised demeanour contrasted with the angel's tentative strides, yet he followed your lead with a mixture of awe and determination. His steps faltered occasionally, but your encouraging smile and subtle corrections kept him in rhythm. With each turn and twirl, you conveyed a seemingly lifetime of experience, while Aziraphake, with his earnest enthusiasm, added a sense of freshness and spontaneity to your performance.

He had the happiest grin on his face while gracefully gravitating around one another. "You're doing great."

His cheeks were coloured a soft pink. "It's so much better than I could imagine."

"You shouldn't be afraid to do what your heart wants because you dread what others might think." You chuckled and squeezed his hand.

His brown eyes met yours, and you smelled cypress and pitaya. The words escaped your mouth before you could think; they shocked both of you but truly conflicted him. And you wanted to slap yourself with your own hyprocrisy. However, Aziraphale didn't give your dark thoughts enough time to form.

"Sometimes I wish..." He whispered, looking down at his feet. You gave him time to form his words correctly, gently leading the dance. "I wish I wasn't attached to Heaven." He was truthfully letting his vulnerability out, trusting you with ideas that could get him erased. "Not that I want to be a demon; far from that! But... at least not having so many restrictions and rules."

"I understand how you feel; it's the way Heaven does things. I find it odd and... cruel." Under the facade of elegance and refinement, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the grandeur of the evening. You two kept twirling and spinning, your steps now synchronised in perfect harmony. With each turn and dip, no one could suspect how you spoke in hushed tones of the injustices and inequalities that plagued the very system they were sworn to uphold.

"It's unfathomable." Aziraphale murmured, his voice tinged with frustration, as he guided Amelia through a graceful turn. "How can we claim to be the arbiters of justice when we let incommensurable horrors happen on Earth ?"

Your brow furrowed in agreement as she met Aziraphale's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the harsh realities they both faced. "Indeed," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "I also had been exposed to a certain... hypocrisy." You kept escaping his gaze. "But at least, I think we can find beauty in the fact that despite all the hate in the world..."

You trailed off your last words, preferring to watch over the angel's shoulder and see your two clients still dancing with ardor. Their movements were a silent protest against the injustices that permeated their world, a defiant assertion of their shared belief in a better, more equitable future. A hope that encouraged them to share a kiss instead of guiding each other to their deaths. You smiled softly and led Aziraphale towards the outlet of the dance floor, as you had an arrow to shoot. "Most humans choose love."

As you finished your sentence, you reached the rest of the ballroom. Aziraphale's mouth was slightly open, as if totally mismerized by words. On instinct, you chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Sorry, Az, I have to go, but it was so good to see you again!" You chirped and fantastically ignored the angel's blush. "Bye, bye! Smooches !"

And you left, bouncing up and down and disappearing in the crowd. But you couldn't resist a last little peek. As you did, you catched Aziraphale, pressing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide open. You giggled. Sometimes you forget how angels aren't used to being physical; you have to cut him some slack.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1862, St. James Park, London

In the tranquil setting of the park, you stood next to the serene pond where ducks paddled lazily through the shimmering waters. With each gentle toss of seeds, you watched as the ducks eagerly darted forward, their feathers ruffling with excitement as they pecked at the scattered treats. You were waiting near the Aziraphale and Crowley, discretely, of course, and waiting to see the result of your new attempt. You had tried a new technique and sincerly hoped it worked this time.

Lost in the soothing rhythm of your task, Sarah hardly noticed the passage of time as she waited for her friend, Alex, to arrive. But as the minutes stretched into hours, a frown creased her brow, and a sense of unease began to gnaw at her. Finally, you spotted Crowley alone, striding towards you, his brow furrowed and his expression clouded with frustration. Your heart sank as you recognised the telltale signs of a heated altercation, and you braced yourself for the storm that was about to come.

As he approached, he stomped his foot heavily on the ground beside you, his movements stiff and tense. Sensing the tension radiating from her friend, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, a silent gesture of comfort and support.

He groaned loudly and kept fidgeting and squirming around; it was obvious he didn't handle frustration really well. "I can't believe him!"

You chuckled and turned back to the pound. "It's good to see you too, Crowley." You smirked.

"Yeah, yeah..." He dismissed me but didn't ask anything. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled paper bag, tossing a handful of breadcrumbs into the pond with more force than necessary, causing the ducks to scatter.

"Don't feed them bread!" You slapped his hand to stop him, causing all the crumbs to fall to the ground.

He frowened and shook his hand to nub the pain. "Why ?"

"It's bad for them! There." You stood up and gave him your small bag. "Give them some cracked corn, or even peas is fine!"

Crowley nodded absently and started throwing the seeds inside the lake in a more calm manner now.

“So, what did Aziraphale do to piss you off this time?” You grinned softly. 

He didn't smirk like he used to. Nor even scoff. You turned to him and realised he was playing with the small, empty bag. You frowned slightly and inhaled deeply. Rusty metal and tuna filled up your nose, making you fully turn. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Was it something you did?” You guessed in a soft voice, trying to show him you wouldn't judge him if he made a mistake.

He groaned and took off his glasses to rub his face. His bright yellow eyes met yours, and you saw doubt. What wasn't he ready to tell you? After everything you had discussed.

“If it’s something you said, I'm sure it can be dealt with.” You smiled reassuringly.

He shook his head and faced you slowly. “It's something I asked.” His answer was evasive, but at least he was giving you hints.

You nodded absently, though you didn't know what Crowley could have possibly asked that Aziraphale wouldn't allow. “Did you ask to buy a book?” 

He scoffed out a laugh. “I wouldn't dare.” 

“Then what?” You pressed in a near whine. Crowley lost his smile and looked back ahead. 

His chest rose in a deep inhale, and he reached in his pocket for a piece of oddly wet paper. With a scrunched nose, you took the slimy paper and opened it. And what you read made you feel what other cupids thought you always did. Dead serious.

“What…w-what..” You coughed and blinked repeatedly. “Why would you need that?” 

He was fixed on your face, examining your reaction. “For insurance. In case the deal goes wrong." 

“It's too dangerous.” You took a step back. Anger started to bubble in your stomach. Why ? You couldn't exactly pinpoint it. Maybe it was against Crowley for ever considering such an idea. Or against yourself for participating in a deal that you knew could bring mountains of troubles. You squished the paper in your hand and miracled it away. The red-haired man sighed next to you.

"Fine, take his side; I don't. As I said to him, I got other people to 'fraternize with, some more open-minded people." He pestered you, but you didn't miss the smell of hurt. You huffed anyway and frowned.

"Yeah, right, go on then. Go tell your demon friends how eager you are to get your hands on this; I'm sure they'll be thrilled!" You snarled and threw the last bit of seed into the water, miraculously not hitting any ducks. Not wanting to stay any longer, you left, purposely stepping on the ground harder than necessary.

In an effort to clear your mind, you strolled through the park while the regular questions came running back to you. Why, when you shoot an arrow at them, it doesn't complete their bound but instead leads them apart even more? What were you doing wrong? It often confused you and kept gnawing at your brain, so very often. You entered a part of the park filled with roses of all sorts, similar to the different types of affection and love. Because flowers tend to represent the variety of loves that exist in the world. White roses for young love, pink roses for gentle love... And in the case of this one, you weren't sure.

While you observed this new rose, you failed to notice the angel's presence right at the angle. He was smelling the same flowers as you, Jack Roses, as they were called, to calm his nerves. As he gazed back up, he spotted you. A smile adorned his face, and he gently made his way to you. "Y/N ?" He gently called out. You looked up, too, and smiled. Yeah, you both knew you had the same conversation.

In a comfortable silence, you went to sit together on the worn park bench, the evening sun casting a warm glow over the tranquil scene. You noticed the furrowed brow and tense posture of your friend. He kept twirling the rose in between his fingers. Quietly, you grabbed it from his hand and attached it to his jacket as an ornament.

With this gentle touch, you offered a wordless gesture of support and solidarity. Aziraphale's gaze flickered towards yours, uncertainty etched in the lines of his face, but as he met your reassuring gaze, a flicker of relief crossed his features. In that moment, you felt the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of reassurance and, you’d call it, camaraderie. After a few minutes, you grinned slightly and joked. “Fraternising ?” 

He scoffed and closed his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The problem ism that you didn't. Through theMilanals,s you never understood the nature of their bon,orr your relationship with them. Are they friends,camarades, or, lovers ? It was so mess and confusing. Maybe it was because of your heart, but you were not capable of identifying the truth of it all. And solely about them,m which only made it worse ! But now, you couldn't leave Aziraphale alone, could you? It was your fault if they split up, the least you could do was, well, do the right thing. And you always, always do what you think is best.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1941, London

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamor of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamour of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

You were frantancly looking for Aziraphale. The two of you had been hanging around each other, and you started to notice when he first had contact with the Nazis. And despite your anger, you knew he was putting himself in danger, and you couldn't help but come to his aid. The only problem was that you had no idea where he might be. With every passing moment, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on your shoulders, driving you forward with a relentless determination. Your senses were heightened, attuned to the cacophony of voices and the distant rumble of explosions that reverberated through the city like a symphony of chaos.

Through the haze of smoke and dust, your eyes kept flashing pink, searching frantically for his familiar aura, your aching heart hammering in your chest as she wove through the throngs of people who filled the streets like ants scurrying for cover. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you raced against time, your mind consumed by the singular purpose of finding Aziraphale and avoiding a catastrophe.

As you turned a corner into a narrow alleyway, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes finally spotted Aziraphale's bound, guiding you to a nearby church. With a surge of hope, you quickened your pace, your heart pounding in anticipation as you drew closer to the familiar energy. In your haze of thoughts, you didn't realise you were standing right in front of the huge wooden door and had kicked it open. The noise the door made mimicked thunder, startling the three men, though your blazing gaze was focused on only one. Azirphale had his eyes wide in complete confusion and was surprised. But only after a few seconds of taking your messy appearance in did worry morph into his face.

"Y/N ? Oh, my dear Lord, what happened to you ?" Aziraphale rushed to you, totally abandoning the two men.

"War happened to me." You growled before shaking your head and strolling towards him. "I can't believe you're dealing with Nazis !"

Meanwhile, a thinner man packed up the books Aziraphale had brought. "I will pass it on to the Fuehrer."

"To Hitler ? The wost human ever ?!" You sighed then, completely dejected. Like every war, it took a real toll on you. Love was hard to come by, and you were famished, going as far as bounding rats together. Aziraphale stumbled on his words, wanting to explain everything to you, but stopped himself.

"These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin by the end of the week. The Fuehrer will be most grateful." You glared the Nazi's way, your face utterly sullen.

"You have been exceedingly helpful, Mr. Fell." You sent a deadly look in the white head direction while he kept fixing ahead of him, lips drawn in a thin line. That's when the noise of a gun resonated inside the empty space of the church. "Such a pity you and your friend must be eliminated, but take heart, just another in the blitz."

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, and you commented. "Again ?"

He pouted apologies in response and then turned back to his little friends. "That's not very sporting." You frowned, intrigued, and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

The chubbier one copied your frown and observed. "You do not appear worried, my friend."

The sound of heels was accompanied by another cocking gun. You turn around, your eyes widening along with the two other men, while Aziraphale fakes nonchalance. Still, he reeked of arrogance.

A woman dressed in black was aiming her weapon at the Nazis. "He's not worried." She revealed. She didn't smell friendly, though, but surprising enough, some humans were more talented at hiding their real intentions than others. That's why you couldn't figure her out. Wary, you softly stepped back, in between her and your friend.

"Who is she?" The man asked, and Aziraphale wasted no time in answering. "She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance, is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin." He turned to you, bowing his head with pride at his own schemes. "And why your nasty little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war behind bars." The two men nicely raised their hands and dropped their guns.

Suddenly, malice hit your nostrils—a mix of sweetpea and the steathy scent of gunpowder—revealing itself when you least expected it. Oh, come on...

"Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence." The way he talked truly felt like he was reliving a scene from a mystery book, and you could easily get distracted by how much you enjoyed his almost childish joy if you weren't busy eyeing the woman's swinging aim.

She stepped closer, but you stood your ground next to the angel. "Thank you for the introduction." Her smile was too fake, and her gun kept pointing in the wrong direction, and you didn't hesitate to constantly step in the way.

"Our side knows all about the two of you. She recruited me to work for you." He insisted on the word 'work' while glancing furtively at you. But you knew something was off. "Aziraphale..." You started with a meek voice.

"And now she is going to tell you this building is surrounded by..." Aziraphale continued to ramble but interrupted him firmly.

"Aziraphale." You grabbed onto his arm to ground him as a twisted smile diformed the man's features.

"I'm afraid she works for us, Mr. Fell." You held back and growled as the man spoke up.

"Allow me to introduce Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt." The smaller man spoke slowly as the woman turned towards both of you, clearly aiming at you now. Aziraphale gasped, but you kept keeping him away from the weapon.

Greta kept stepping away and started to talk tenderly with one of the men. Gee, you couldn't believe that the most love you had felt in weeks was coming from the most terrible people God had ever created. You glanced back at Aziraphale, who was completely lost, and it pained your heart to see him like this. "Now, where were we? Oh yes." The gun was so close, you swore you could just knock it out of her hand. "Killing you."

"You can't kill us. There'll be paperwork." Azirphale almost pouted behind you, but you sensed him moving closer. But before anything could happen, the heavy wooden door slammed open once again.

And whoever had just entered seemed to have quite trouble breathing. Or maybe they were hurt. In the end, it was a mix of both. "Sorry, consecrated ground." It was Crowley, daring to walk into a church. His feet seemed to burn as he tried to spend minimal time on the ground. And you thought about how grateful you were that you had the ability to fly. "Oh ! It's like being at the beach in bare feet." His voice was so high-pitched that it almost made you laugh.

"Crowley ?" You mused, at a loss for words. It's been years since you've seen him—well,  since your argument in St. James—and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed him.

"Yep, the one and only, always there to save your butts." He teased while turning around in circles to avoid standing in one place.

"I should have known, of course. These people are working for you." Aziraphale accused you and finally stepped in front of you.

The demon seeked suppot in one of the dark benches as the floor kept burning him. "Nah, they're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running London, blackmailing and mudering people. I just didn't want to see you  embarrassed." He tried to nag but couldn't handle the pain. Instead, he waddled around like a duck.

"Indeed, I see you are covering for us both." Azirphaled mocked you in a hushed voice and smiled when he noticed the growing grin on your face, even if you tried to mask it.

"Mr. Anthony J. Crowley. Your fame precedes you." The man started, catching your attention, and you noticed the woman almost drooling over your friend. Well, it was a bit exaggerated, but it seemed like the best vocabulary to use in that moment.

"Anthony ?" Aziraphale wondered, unsure if he heard him right. "You don't like it ?" Crowley retored, and you smelled legit curiousity; the thought of him changing his name to suit the angel caused a cheeky smile.

"No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." The white head reassured me, though he kept frowning. And it raised a couple questions for you too.

"Wait, so what's your name ? Or do they call you Aziraphale Fell ?" You leaned in, tilting your head to the side. "Kinda redundant, don't you think ?" You jested with a smirk.

"Really not the place, dear." The angel lectured gently but didn't lean away.

"The famous Mr. Crowley ?" She kept eyeing him like a piece of meat, and you really didn't like that, and you unconsciously moved in front of the demon, but it was kind of useless considering he had to keep moving. "That's such a pity that the three of you must die."

Crowley tipped his hat, and you pouted. "What does the 'J' stand for ?" You continued, despite what Aziraphale had just said.

"It's just a 'J', really... Look at that !" You frowned, followed, and looked over where he was gawking. Holy water. You scowled. "A whole fontful of holy water doesn't even have guards !" The red head explained a mixture of pain and excitement.

"Enough babbling. Kill them both." The Nazi finally ordered, already grabbing the bag full of books.

However, Crowley had other plans. "In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here." He gestured while dancing around. "If you all run away very, very fast, you might not die. You won't enjoy dying; you definitely won't enjoy what comes after." You nodded in agreement, almost mocking.

"You expect us to believe that ? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End." The chubbier man smirked.

"Yes. It would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course." Crowley confirmed, and you decided to play along.

"I think you're all wasting quite valuable time, dear fellows." You smirked; you couldn't admit it, but you truly hoped they wouldn't run away and would rot in Hell.

"And if, in 30 seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friends and I to survive it." He tilted his head to the side, towards Aziraphale.

"A real miracle?" The angel stammered in response, carefully moving closer to the two of you.

"Kill them. They are very irritating."

Crowley raised his hands and pointed at the ceiling, expectingly. Suddenly, a distant rumble echoed through the darkness, growing louder and more ominous with each passing second. The ground beneath your feet trembled as if in anticipation, sending shivers down her spine. The air crackled with electricity as the sound of rushing wind filled your ears, drowning out all other noise save for the rapid beat of your heart.

With a deafening roar, the bomb plummeted towards the earth like a deadly harbinger of destruction, its descent marked by a piercing shriek that cut through the silence like a knife. As the bomb crashed into the church with a thunderous explosion, the earth shook with the force of its impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the air like ripples on a pond. Glass shattered and metal groaned in protest as the building buckled under the sheer force of the blast, the sound of crumbling masonry echoing through the night like the tolling of a funeral bell.

At an agonisingly slow pace, things settled. Your eyes had started to water, and you had instinctively closed your eyes to shelter yourself away from the bright light, the noise, and the chaos. The fear inside you was growing exponentially. It all happened in seconds. Your heartbeat was racing wildly, and your breath was shallow and erratic when you felt a person's touch. You were confused, and the person kept calling your name, but you couldn't find the strength or courage to look up and see who it was.

"Y/N..." The voice sighed, saddened by your state. Ever so gently, you found yourself enveloped in a warm embrace. You inhaled deeply the scent of the coat in which your face was buried and recognised Aziraphale. His arms encircled you with a sense of unwavering comfort and solace. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of shock, and your mind was reeling from the turmoil of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

As the angel held you close, you could feel the steady rhythm of his pristine heartbeat echoing against your ear, which was so reassuring. Crowley came closer too, but kept a distance and slowly stroked your. You felt the tension in your muscles begin to ease, the tight knot of fear slowly unravelling under the soothing touch of your friends embrace. In this cocoon, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath and process everything. You weren't used to so much action, preferring to act from afar. With each passing moment, you felt a sense of tranquilly wash over you, like a gentle tide lulling her into a state of calm surrender.

Finally, you regain composure and separate yourself from Aziraphale, while Crowley backs away. "T-Thanks..." You sniffed. The angel simply smiled warmly and kept his hand on your right arm, as if to grant you at least a bit of contact.

He then turned to Crowley. "That was very kind of you." He smiled once more and nodded thankfully.

"Shut up..." He brushed off, putting back his sunglasses, despite the darkness of the night.

"It truly was." You thanked me too. And you saw Crowley lip twitch in an apologetic pout, but you weren't mad at him; you didn't even think you would react like that. "Hey, there'll be no paperwork !" You chuckled.

Aziraphale along with you too, until he realised something. "Oh, the books!" He quickly scanned over the debris but didn't see them. "Oh, I forgot all the books !" You tried to look for the bag too, and apparently so did Crowley. "Oh, they'll all be blown away."

The demon approached us once again, the bag full of books completely untouched. Your eyes widened, and you watched the interaction with a tender gaze.

"A little demonic miracle of my own." Crowley handed it back to Aziraphale, who simply watched, dumbfounded and so, so smitten. You grinned and blushed at the rush of love you felt deep in your heart. "Lift home ?" He offered as if nothing had happened and walked over a black Bentley.

After inhaling deeply and discretely fed on the love, you gasped at the sight of the machine. "You have a car ?!" You chirped and sprinted behind Crowley, while Aziraphale stayed behind. Though the night was far from over, it started incredibly well, 'cause tonight, you'll be able to feast on a whole lot of love!

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

1967, Soho, London

In the smoky haze of the dimly lit bar, you sat perched on a bar stool, a tumbler of whisky cradled in her hand. The amber liquid glinted in the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting a warm, comforting glow over your features as you took a slow sip, savouring the burn that spread through your chest. You truly enjoyed this new pub, and particularly its name, 'The Dirty Donkey'. Yeah, it always makes your drunken laugh out loud every time you think about it.

For a fleeting moment, you felt a sense of contentment wash over her, the familiar rhythms of the bar providing a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. But as you glanced across the room, your gaze fell upon your dear client, Crowley, engaged in a conversation with two humans, causing you to cock a brow. They were moving to a private room, much to your surprise and honest annoyance. Thankfuly, not all your clients were desperatly trying to get themselves in trouble; expect two very specific men.

Groaning, you abandoned your glass on the counter and followed them. And yes, you had no shame in eavesdropping on people. Crowley hunched over the table, his voice low and calm as he exchanged words with the shady couple. Your brows furrowed with concern as you watched the exchange unfold, a sense of unease settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

"So, Spike, you're the muscles; you'll be hauling on the ropes." The demon explained it all too professionally.

"And she'll be going down on..." You didn't have time to hear the rest as you felt a presence nearing you. With a gasp, you swiftly put on the blindness, and you reprimand yourself for not thinking of it sooner. A young man walks past you and enters the room. In spite of your desire to follow him, you knew better and focused on spying.

"Who are you ?" A man spoke.

"I understand you need a locksmith." You grew even more confused. Why on Earth would Crowley need help picking up a lock?

You recognised Crowley right away. "I was expecting Mr. Narker."

"Well, Mr. Narker's passed on to his reward. I've taken over the business." The voice was the nearest; you figured it was the youngest. "He was my cellmate. He taught me everything he knew. "You rolled your eyes. Gosh, you hated when you were right.

"My name's Shadwell." You kept focusing; you needed to know what Crowley was planning.

"Please... sit down, Mr. Shadwell."

"Lance Corporal Shadwell. If you don't mind." Unbeknownst to the both of you, Crowley and you shared an unimpressed expression at the man's arrogance.

"So, what's so valuable that they're going to leave it in a church at night?" A more feminine voice inquired.  That was when the truth came crashing down on you. You closed your eyes and sighed. He was still after that god-forsaken holy water. You gritted your teeth in anger, but another emotion overtook your wrath. You truly feared for his safety, knowing that he was treading dangerously close to a path from which there might be no return.

With a sense of determination, you straightened up and marched your way out of the building. You had to talk with Aziraphale now. So, wasting no time, you strolled proudly to the angel's bookshop, which was only a few miles away, and even if it erased any trace of epicness, you rushed in.

Startled, Aziraphale's gaze shot up from his book, and he met you in a near panic. "Oh my Lord, Y/N, don't enter like that." He said it gently while putting down his book.

"Sorry, Az, but it's kind of urgent." You apologised while hurriedly floating his way. "Crowley is in trouble."

He met you half-way, sending you a wave of snowy nights. "What kind of trouble?"

"He's going to rob a church to get holy water!" You cried out, deeply worried, too.

"Oh my God, I cannot believe him!" He exclaimed angrily, still in his polite tone. You sighed and waited for a few minutes, as Aziraphale's footsteps marked the tempo of his passing. It gave you both time to consider the whole situation and what your options were. There was no way you would just stay still without doing anything. But how could you prevent him from putting himself in danger?

That's when you got an idea. It wasn't the best, and you knew you'd have to convince the angel and yourself. Swallowing thickly, you finally took a step towards him and called his name. "Aziraphale ?"

He stopped in his tracks and waited for you expectantly, thinking you had found the solution to all your problems. Your lips formed a thin line before you finally offered him your thoughts. "I know what we agreed on, but... maybe we could trust him."

"What ?" His face had lost all its colour, and he looked at you like you had lost your mind. Which was understandable.

You exhaled and put your hand on his shoulder. "Think about it. What's worse? Has he tried to get the holy water on his own, possibly getting caught or, even worse, splashing himself in the process?" You seeked his eyes to convey how much you believed in your idea.

Aziraphale almost pleaded with you with his eyes. You frowned apologies and smiled softly. You were asking for a lot; he was terrified for his life, and you had just suggested giving him a suicidal pill. However, the angel surprised you once again. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening his eyes. "Okay."

A few moments later, you and Aziraphale teleported to Crowley's car. You held tightly to the bottle and hid it on the ground in between your legs. Just at the same time, the demon entered his car, sitting lazily. That's when he felt your presence and turned to you, astounded. "What are you doing here?"

"We needed a word with you." Aziraphale started calmly, with a high reserve.

"What ?" He faked ignorance.

Obviously, it didn't fool you, and you rolled your eyes. "Please, we both work in London; it's hard to miss things." Crowley glanced at you from the rear mirror but didn't say anything.

"And apparently you're setting up a... caper." The angel glanced towards you too, searching for backup. "To rob a church."

You nodded and leaned forward, between their seats. "Crowley, it's too dangerous." But your friend didn't let you influence him and kept looking away.

"Holy water won't just kill your body. It will destroy you completely." Aziraphale added, dread lacing his voice.

"You told me what you think 105 years ago." He snarled lowly, exasperation in the back of his throat.

"And nothing changed." You said it serverly, gripping on the leather seat, gaining Crowley's attention as he turned towards you.

"But... we can't have you risking your life." Though you knew you should have backed out the moment you were added to the equation of 'we', you couldn't just leave. "Not even for something dangerous..." Aziraphale sighed.

"So..." You reached down to the car floor, carefully pulled out the thermos, and slowly handed it to Crowley. His hands shook as he reached to grab it, though you still held onto it.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and eyed the bottle like a hawk. "You can call off the robbery."

Your fingers met with the demon's as you let go of the bottle. "Watch the cap. Don't unscrew it unless it's your last resort." You warned in a hush voice, afraid the cap might just pop right off it.

"It's the real thing?" Despite his glasses, you can see how incredulous his face was. He held the holy water like a bomb, ready to explode.

"The holiest." Aziraphale was incredibly stiff, and he kept leaning away.

"After everything you said..." he whispered, unable to wrap his mind around the idea of the both of you giving in. "Should I say thank you?"

"Better not..." You smiled.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?"

"No. Thank you.." Crowley pouted; he really wanted to do something for Aziraphale, but he kept being so stubborn. "Oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know." He smiled thoughtfully. "Go for a picnic." He then glanced at you, truly hoping you would accept his next offer. "Dine at the Ritz." He shrugged. You looked down; maybe you were the stubborn one after all.

But Crowley insisted. "I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go."

"You go too fast for me, Crowley." Really ? Like, really? You sighed and roughly leaned back on the seat. Aziraphale didn't waste any more time and slipped out without saying another word.

But you could see past the facade of bravado the vulnerability that lurked beneath the surface of Crowley's neutral exterior. So, you reached out to him, making a silent plea for him to not give up. You knew that no matter how fiercely Aziraphale resisted, he would always be there by his side, despite how much he wanted to pull away.

For your part, you stayed, feeling a kind of pull urging you to do so. After spending some time in silence, Crowley spoke up. "Need a life, sweetheart?"

You chuckled and sat back up. "Please..." You observed the wheel for a few seconds before chirping, interrupting his movements. "Can I drive?" You used your big, charming smile.

Crowley glanced your way for a few minutes, contemplating the idea before shrugging. "Sure." He opened his door to switch places. You grinned mischievously and grabbed the stirring wheel tightly.

"I'll give it to you fast, boy." You said that and started the engine. Pray for Crowley's poor heart.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

2000, Aziraphale's bookshop, London

On your way to meeting Aziraphale and Crowley, you couldn't help but giggle like a little child. You skipped through London, avoiding flying and frightening the sweet baby creature snuggled against my chest. You didn't know such an adorable thing could ever exist, but humans were always full of wonderful surprises! You squeezed your way through the crowd on the busy side walk before finally catching a glimpse of the angel's bookshop.

"Almost there, baby!" You cooed with a big smile and felt her squirm against you. You hurried to cross the street and forcefully pushed the door open with your shoulder. The bell rang loudly, which brought your friends attention to you. Crowley was sitting on the couch, well, more like his body was thrown carelessly on it, whereas Aziraphale was nicely sitting on his big, comfy chair and holding a small device in his hand.

Crowley threw his head back to look at you. "Happy new milenial." He joked with scoff. You smiled brightly and floated towards them, not far away from the ground but enough to not walk down the stairs.

"Hello..." You sang and giggled again until I landed next to the couch. You squeezed the little bundle of joy into your arms. Aziraphale cocked a brow, amused.

"What do you have here, dear?" He smirked, curious. Crowley sat up and looked at you, intrigued as well.

"Oh... nothing..." You chuckled, giggling. Scanning the room for a place to sit, you notice a brand new big divan, which you had never noticed before. "Well, this is new."

Aziraphale got up and took the place next to you. "Indeed, it is." He laughed softly. "It's for you." You looked at him, showing him your disbelief.

"Aw, really?" You asked while approaching the grey van. It had a back, so you didn't have to just lie on it, and it looked really squishy too. You sat down on it and smiled brightly. "Oh, this is great! Thank you.."

The angel dismissed your gratitude with a small gesture. "No need to thank me, dear. "You'd simply like a place to sit on your own."

You smiled gently at him before Crowley spoke up. "What kind of animal is that?" He titled his head to the blanket in your arms as he gave off strong aromas of curiosity and... endermant?

You brushed it off and inhaled deeply. "Gentlemen..." You started trying to set the ambiance. Both of them leaned slightly. "Let me present to you... Eden!" You exclaimed wildly and took off the blanket, reaveling your new baby white dexter mini cow in all her cuteness. She mowed softly as you put her down. She was extremely tiny, with her white coat, black ears, and snoot.

"Oh..." Aziraphale cooed, and you could smell how smitten he was already with her. "She is precious." He affirmed.

Crowley gave off the same scent but still tried to keep up his mocking exterior. "Wow, that's where mini hambergers meat comes from." He teased, his uncovered eyes sparkling with mischief.

You gasped loudly, fakely offended, and went to cover her ears. "Shh, you fool ! She might hear you." Eden mooed and nudged your arm. "I know, baby, he's a meanie." You cooed and kissed her forehead.

"Damn right." He laughed and caressed the mini cow's fur.

"Right, you are absolutely dreadful." Aziraphale rolled his eyes, mocking the gentle behaviour of his friend. Crowley growled but didn't retort anything. "

"Really, you would do that ?" You smiled brightly, earning a chuckle from the angel.

"Of course, you spend so much time here; it would be cruel to leave that poor creature all alone." He tilted his head to the side, inviting you to follow him.

Aziraphale opened a door, right behind all the shelves, in the hidden parts of the bookshop. The room was dusty and crammed with books and antics, from the ground to the ceiling. And despite the library in itself, it was the largest room the bookshop had.

"We'll just put all that into other rooms and upstairs."

You turned to Azirphale, who was making grand movements to explain his whole plan. "It would be its personal stable. He smiled from ear to ear. It truly warmed your heart to see him so involved.

Crowley was leaning against the door frame, holding Eden to his chest. You spotted him and cooed mockingly. "Aren't you a sweetheart?"

He scoffed while petting Eden's head. "Nah, that's your job."

You pursed your lips into a bashful smile before an idea popped into my mind. "Oh, I never thought of what a cow might eat !" You exclaimed, outraged at your ignorance.

"Don't worry, dear, I'm sure I have a book about it somewhere." Aziraphale was reassured, already leaving the room to find it.

You sighed in relief and followed right behind him. It took some time, but you eventually found it and walked back towards the room, leafing through the book. The two of you came to a sudden stop. Everything that was previously in the room was lying on the ground. Aziraphale let out an offended gasp.

"Crowley ?" You called out, midway concerned and amused. "I'm not sure that's how you tidy a room."

The angel was the first to open the door abruptly and stop just as fast. You pressed yourself against him to see what happened to the room. Your eyes widened, your heart quickening, and your eyes flashed pink. "Wow..."

The room, if you still call it that, had enormously enlarged. So much that it actually had an horizon. In the seemingly soft glow of dawn, the meadow unfurled like a tapestry woven with a myriad of colors. Dew-kissed grasses shimmered with a silvery sheen as they swayed gently in the early morning breeze. A symphony of bird songs filled the air, weaving melodies that danced among the fragrant blooms.

Clusters of wildflowers adorned the landscape, painting the meadow a kaleidoscope of hues. Sun-kissed daisies nodded their heads in greeting, and their cheerful faces turned towards the rising sun. Delicate lavender blossoms released their sweet, intoxicating fragrance, mingling with the earthy scent of fresh grass and damp soil.

Water streams meandered lazily through the meadow, their crystal-clear waters glinting in the golden light. They carved sinuous paths among the greenery, creating small, tranquil pools where dragonflies darted and frogs sang their morning serenades. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, their delicate wings shimmering like stained glass in the sunlight. Bees hummed busily, collecting nectar from the blooms and adding their gentle buzz to the symphony of nature's orchestra.

The ceiling—no, the sky—wasn't entirely blue, but it reminded you of a gentle summer morning. Just the softest warmth. We slowly walked into the landscape, afraid to disrupt it. The thick grass felt mellow under your feet, and you couldn't resist kicking off your shoes to feel it yourself. Aziraphale chuckles, joining the sweet sounds of birds and the running water.

"This is amazing !" You laughed in disbelief and utter joy, twirling around, taking in everything this beautiful place had to offer. The ground was now the last thing on your mind, and you took off in the air, floating around like a cherub.

"I can't believe Crowley did all this in such a short amount of time." Aziraphale backed up, caressing the petals of a Jack Rose.

You chuckled and floated in a circle around him. "Where do you think he is ?" Your eyes scanned the area, and you spotted him beyond a field of yarrows, answering your own question. "There ! C'mon !" You landed abruptly next to Aziraphale and took his arm, hurrying him to climb up the small hill.

Crowley was sitting underneath a tree that bore the colours of a pink cherry tree, but the lazy branches resembled those of a weeping willow. Eden quiet moos caused you to smile and rush the final feet, seperating you from the two of them. The demon smiled almost smugly at your arrival, and you responded with a bright grin.

"This incredible..." You panted a bit and roughly let yourself fall on your back, on the grass. Aziraphale chuckled and miracled a blanket under the four of you. A comfortable hum came out instinctively, and you completely laid on the ground. With a happy coo, Eden waddled her way and rested her head on your stomach. Aziraphale sat down as well, crossed his legs, and congratulated Crowley on his work.

"Now, this is a wonderful place to have a picnic." Aziraphale sighed and rested back on his arms. You chuckled and laid down on the blanket. Eden's weight left a comfortable pressure on your chest. Staring at the sunny sky through the pink brenches of the tree, the scent of heliotrope embraces your entire being.

You never knew what heliotrope was meant to represent, despite how many times you asked Mihael about its meaning. All she ever gave you as an answer was a cheeky smile and a shrug. So, you didn't ask further. And right now, all you wanted to do was bask in the scent and never leave this meadow.

Or its inhabitants. For anything in the world.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 

There... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep U,w,U

Hope you liked it, I put extra details for you to enjoy ! Now let's hope Y/N | Balael will be and about in the next chapter, 'cause they're running out of time ;)

And if they're any errors like a lot 'I's instead of 'You's please let me know ^^

Bye bye !

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Masterlist : Here

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[libby-for-life]

Maybe a fic where Adam makes Lucifer his wife, a slight yandere Adam and dark Lucifer?👉🏻👈🏻👀

My creative juices have been FLOWING today, so yes!

From the minute Lilith was created, he hated her very being. She was rude and opinionated, and she did the most unforgivable thing in Adam's eyes: taking up Lucifer's time that was meant for Adam.

She latched onto him like some leech, eager to sink her claws into his angel-like wings and ground him forever. Lucifer, poor sweet Luci, humored her but even he grew weary of her constant complaining about Eden not being good enough for her. About how Adam wasn't good enough for her.

That seemed to make Lucifer angry, much to Adam's delight when he was spying on them, and said, "Adam has been nothing but kind to you, Lilith. Do not speak ill of him!" Lilith rolled her eyes but nodded, but the dark look in Lucifer's eyes didn't leave.

It was obvious she needed to go. Adam didn't know where, but she didn't deserve to be anywhere near Lucifer. Luci was the type of angel that deserved to be pampered and loved. To be given the world. Lilith expected Lucifer to do everything for her.

While he was skipping rocks across the lake, it came to him. Of course! It was so simple! He could just hit her with a rock. He smiled to himself, grabbed a rock the size of his palm, and went to find Lilith. She, of course, was sunbathing on a rock and he easily approached her.

"Ugh, what are you doing here? Didn't I already tell you I'm not interested?" She sneered up at him. Adam wrinkled his nose. Him wanting her? It was enough to almost make him laugh. How egotistical of her to think that.

"So I'm guessing you want Lucifer." He said, already knowing the answer but needing the confirmation for the peace of mind.

"Yes. What of it?" She said. "He's better than you."

Adam smiled as she closed her eyes. "I couldn't agree more." He slammed the rock onto her temple and she immediately passed out. Blood poured out of the gash he gave her but Adam frowned when she looked to be breathing still. He simply chucked the rock into the river before picking Lilith up and tossing her in. She sank like a stone and Adam hoped she drowned just like he had seen a duckling accidentally do to itself.

He hummed as he walked off to find Lucifer, his angel. They were going to meet up. Just like he promised, the angel sat underneath their special tree and Adam couldn't help but coo at how cute his wife looked.

Lilith was never supposed to be his wife. Lucifer was always meant to be his. He gently picked him up and Lucifer smiled sleepily at him. "Hello, my Adam." He slurred and Adam smirked. "My angel. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Luci giggled and nodded tiredly. "I would love to be your wife." Adam's smile brightened. Lucifer was his wife! His! "Thank you for accepting, my angel."

"But, what if Lilith?"

"What about her?" Adam tilted his head. Why was he bringing her up? "Won't she say something about us?" Oh. His poor wife! Of course, he would frightened of what the angels would do! Well, Adam would protect him. "Don't you worry. She won't say a word."

Lucifer nodded, smirking up at him. "I'm glad. I didn't like her anyway." That was good. It would be terribly awkward if Lucifer did like her. Lilith was dead. You couldn't very marry a corpse.

[maleyanderecafe]

Dear Villainous Husband , the One to be Obsessed with is Over There (Webcomic)

Created by: Menanic

Genre: Isekai

I wish the translation for this one was a bit better, but I do think that there are a lot of fun things that I haven't seen as much in other isekai such as a tyrant that actually does seem fairly scary, another person besides the main character who has been isekaied into this world and the plot of trying to get back to the original body. The empress can also be sinister as the tyrant, though sadly it's not utilized as much as I would have hoped. As of writing this there are about 40 chapters out right now, and the yandere takes a while for him to kick in (like a long while).

The story starts out with the male lead, Lanius pretty much killing all of his sibling and his father from a young age because he was bored and wanted the title of king. Angelica, or Angie is chosen to be Lanius's empress, with Angie crying as she doesn't want to be killed considering she read the book before she isekaied. She wants to do her best to survive and run away. Angie asks Lanius why he chose to marry her of all people, with Lanius recounting that he had a whole wall of marriage candidates in which (to his eyes) looked the same, so he ended up throwing a knife, which landed in the portrait of Angie's eye. Initially, Angie is kind of bullied by the maids until she decides to bring in one of her own from her old hometown. The head maid, Jacques gets majorly angry after Angie tries to defend herself from the bullying, with us seeing that she's also the mother of the main love interest in the story, Sylvia, who is also being abused by Jacques. Afraid of what Lanius will do if he's too bored, Angie proposes a manhunt to sate Lanius's bloodlust, which works well, however Lanius states he will only do it if Angie participates as well. Angie agrees and starts training. While she prefers a bow and arrow as to not get to close to the opponent, Lanius also trains her on sword fighting as he wants her to survive. On the day of the manhunt, Lanius feeds Angie some sort of drug that makes her much more fearless and ruthless. She is able to finally kill the maid that bullied her thus ending the man hunt once and for all and bring Sylvia to work for her. Angie gets nightmares after about this event.

After a banquet where she flexes her authority as the empress, Angie decides to go to Tunia to find the original male lead, Eden a knight for the Templar. She does find him there and finds that he too is a transgressor, isekaing into the world similar to how she has. The two of them discusses the possibility of trying to go back to their original world before having to disperse as to not cause Lanius suspicions. Lanius does seem to catch on, visibly being more jealous when Angie and Eden talk, which forces to the two to send secret messages with each other. Angie and Eden discuss their escape plans together, with Angie preparing for escaping Lanius while the romance between Angie and Lanius grows stronger to the point where Lanius actually seems to like her instead of having her be just an interesting toy to him, with him bringing her to different places as sort of dates. Angie is starting to waver at the idea of going back home though as she feels there's nothing to go back to and that she is actually falling for Lanius as well. Lanius goes on a mission to kill a bunch of monsters, finding out that feeding the offspring their mother's corpse actually makes them loyal to him, and Eden during the fight also finds a special door that could relate to getting them back to their world, something that it seems only he can see. With Angie, she finds a book that is similar, with details that only she can read. Eden also decides to disguise himself as a butler at Angie's estate to gain more information and be able to communicate with Angie more easily. We learn that Sylvia still has a vendetta against Lanius, that the only way to get back to their old world is that Lanius has to die, something that Angie seems to struggle with coming to terms with. Angie ends up trying to start her escape plan by refusing to go with Lanius to the war and buying up an inn area to live in.

Like I said before, there are a lot of good concepts in this webcomic that are pretty interesting and well utilized (if only the translation weren't so bad). I feel with a lot of isekai plotlines, the villain characters or tyrant characters are not... that evil? They can be of course, and it can serve its purpose in the story, but I feel like with Lanius I can actually see why Angie would be so scared of him. His intro of killing his siblings and his father to attain the crown was really brutal, and the scenes after when trying to explain why he chose Angie in the first place and how he slyly threatens her does make me understand why Angie would be really wary around him. I do wish it continued to show more of it, maybe like killing off some employee he didn't like, but we do see him basically take control of an entire monster army and run like two man hunts, so there is at least something to it. I think it's also interesting that he's not a yandere right away, with him being more like a threatening psychopath instead. While I do like yanderes that are more upfront about their yandereness (just mostly because it's easier for me to write a recommendation on) I do think that waiting for the eventual development of feelings does help with Angie's dilemma of staying with him versus going back home, as his death is what will allow her and Eden to eventually go back. Speaking of Eden, it's very astonishing to me that there is so little isekai that have more than one character isekai into the same world. I feel like that has a lot of potential for good team ups, rivalries and various other arcs that I guess nobody wants to actually write about for isekais. I also think that the premise of Angie actually slowly developing some of Lanius's traits of being intimidating and seemingly heartless in some scenes (namely the witch hunt, the banquet and the inn at the end) were really fun too, even if the first time was induced by drugs. I really wished that it was something that showed up more often since I really do like that side of her and is a good corruption arc type thing when hanging out with Lanius.

Lanius starts out as a typical psychopath who only cares about what sick things entertain him, but it's done pretty well to showcase how terrifying he actually is. Besides the initial backstory of how he was able to rise to the throne, the fact that Angie was pretty much chosen out of chance and the fact that he is basically implies through the fact that he finds them so uninteresting that he can't recognize their faces that if she does something that he considers boring, he could just kill her. I'm not sure why he tries to help her out by feeding her the drug to make her more fearless, or even tries to train her but maybe it's to heighten his enjoyment (?) of watching the manhunt? I have no idea. I do think that Lanius eventually getting pretty possessive over Angie (especially when Eden shows up in the picture) and apparently in the webnovel, Lanius goes pretty yandere stockholm after he finds out that Angie tries to escape and pretty much confines her, which does sound very in character for someone like him. I also think it's a good way to drive tension when Angie does start falling for him and then finds out that the only way to really go back home is to have Lanius die. I feel kind of bad for Eden though since he does actually seem like he wants to go back, so that's going to be an issue for Angie even if she does want to stay.

I do think that this webcomic has a lot of good ideas, and it executes them at least somewhat decently. The only real problem I have with it is that I think Lanius could go even farther with being ruthless to his people and that the translation just isn't that good. If it follow the plot of the webnovel with Angie basically being imprisoned by Lanius, I think that would be really great too.

[sobredunia]

Spoilers for drdt chapter 2 episode 12

In defense of Levi

(I'm not gonna word this eloquently because I am not eloquent. I'm also gonna swear a lot. It's like a package deal)

- - -

Why the fuck would he admit to murder if he's the blackened. Like mans just put the biggest target on his back by saying that he's killed before and also by saying that arei had his secret. Biggest motive for murder ever. He's putting himself out there because he's gonna say something that would not make sense/make him look really suspicious if he didn't get this out of the way first

Now, just what exactly is he going to say now that that's out? I think I know

He's gonna become the autopsy guy from now on

Arturo basically said that he's not the one to go for analysing corpses. He's shown that in the previous trial and actually given a good explanation as to why on this one. People that work on the medical field have been kind of a staple in dr, for finding things that aren't said in the monokuma file or for possibly leading the murder astray.

Now, who would it make the most sense to fill that role now? Levi. He's killed someone and he feels no remorse, that's very much screaming that the murder was premeditated on at least some aspects, and if it's supposed to be a secret that he'd be willing to kill for, it's most likely that he hadn't been found

Besides, he's a personal stylist, so he probably knows a lot about the human body. His past as a killer would probably grant him some good knowledge about the dead human body

I think the reason why he apologises for possibly leading the trial astray is 1: holy fuck you just admitted to being a former killer in the middle of a killing game that's gonna get some discussion wether you want to or not. 2: it's likely that he's noticed something about Arei's corpse. Something small enough that he doesn't know that this information entails but something that should probably be discussed anyway. Something that only someone with such a past would be able to notice

And yeah. My guess is that, now that that truth's out, he's gonna be the autopsy guy from now on

Now, I'm gonna address the accomplice!Levi and blackened!Eden theory

Why I don't think he's an accomplice: why would you fucking say that. The trial was completely stumped. Why would he give them another bone to chew on and maybe figure out the truth when he could've just kept quiet and let everyone come to the wrong conclusion. No one suspected of Eden. We've already had someone go "I killed arei lol" so trying that same trick won't work as well. What the fuck

Okay but what if he actually WAS an accomplice: I think this is him betraying Eden

Like I said, there is NO FUCKING WAY this man is calling himself out in 4k if it's not to find the culprit. It makes no sense

Sure, all the talk of trying to be a good person, and him maybe wanting Eden to get out of this because she's the only good one, I can buy it, but AREI?? Arei had to be the victim???? She was literally Eden's case study of someone wanting to be better, proving her beliefs, and maybe even giving Levi a bit of hope for himself and Ace. there is no way they just. Played eeny miny mo and chose her. If she ended up dead, it's most definitely because Levi wanted to hide his secret, it makes no sense otherwise

And sure, I can believe that Levi wanted to help Eden out, but he's still got a survival instinct. He's calling himself out in the hopes of helping in the trial. He wants to live.

I think Eden ended up using the motive as blackmail. We already know she's not above that, since she literally uses it to get Teruko to hang out with her using the cactus thing

So yeah, either Levi is not an accomplice, or he isn't one anymore. He reveals his secret so that Eden no longer has leverage over him, and who knows, maybe he discreetly tries to steer everyone, or he just fucking rams them all straight into the solution. Either way works

[nateconnolly]

Hozier Reading List of Free Texts You Can Finish in Less Than A Week

Another Hozier reading list is floating around the Internet, and it’s very thorough. Huge respect to @notmysophie for putting that together, they put in a lot of effort and research and it really shows. This is an alternative reading list for people who are too busy or tired to read all the entries on a complete list of Hozier’s literary influences. This list is incomplete—even after finishing it, there will be some very prominent literary references in Hozier’s music that might go over your head. But this will definitely help you appreciate the depth of thought in his songs, and if you read just five pages a night, you’ll be able to finish this reading list in less than one week. 

ONE: ICARUS

Hozier puts the myth of Icarus to song in I, Carrion. You could very easily argue that Sunlight is also a response to Icarus. Many classical writers have told or mentioned his story, but I’ll let my own personal tastes shape this list, and recommend Ovid’s Metamorphoses. He tells the story of Icarus in Chapter 8 Lines 183–235. If you can afford it, I love the Charles Martin translation. You could consult the free Brookes More translation, or the one by A. S. Kline. Remember, you don't have to read the whole chapter--just find the part named "Daedalus and Icarus"

TWO: DOOMSDAY CLOCK

The title track Wasteland, Baby! is such a gentle love ballad, I almost have trouble remembering it’s about the apocalypse. Wasteland, Baby! finds hope and love in the face of annihilation. Hozier wrote this song as a direct response to the Doomsday Clock moving two minutes in 2018, one year before the album was released. 

THREE: GENESIS 1-3

I also recommend reading Genesis Chapters 1-3. You’re probably familiar with the plot, but I think From Eden is such an ingenious twist on the familiar story that you’ll appreciate it even more after consulting the original. Hozier takes the symbols of Genesis 1-3 and uses them to make his own radically different point. The stories of Eden also come up in Be. 

My favorite translation is by Robert Alter, but it’s currently not free online, so you might want to check out the Sefaria translation or the New King James Version (NKJV), both of which manage to capture the beauty of Genesis without becoming difficult for the average English reader. The King James Version (KJV) is also roughly the same level of difficulty as a Shakespeare play. I definitely think the KJV is beautiful, but at the end of a long hard day, you might be better off with the Sefaria, the NKJV, the NIV, or the NRSV. You can Google “Genesis 1” followed by any of those names/abbreviations, and you’ll find it right away. 

FOUR: A MODEST PROPOSAL

Jonathan Swift’s A Modest Proposal, written in 1729, might be the most gutting satire in history. UCLA students put together a very thorough explanation of the economic suffering and the proposed “solutions” that inspired Swift. References to A Modest Proposal form the skeleton of Hozier’s Eat Your Young. 

FIVE: SEAMUS HEANEY

Before learning about Seamus Heaney, you’ll need some background information on the Troubles. I recommend this National Geographic article. I also recommend looking through these Chris Steele Perkins photographs of life during the Troubles.

During the Troubles, Heaney wrote a series of poems about bog bodies. His poetry directly inspired the corpse imagery in Work Song, Like Real People Do, and In a Week. 

Disclaimer: I cannot read Hebrew or Latin. I am evaluating these translations solely by 1) how difficult they are to read and 2) how beautiful they sound. I cannot independently review them for accuracy. Just know that all the translations I’ve listed are widely respected among academics and/or religious leaders.

Anyways if you liked reading this go check out my Substack where I originally posted it. 

[aziraphales-library]

hi guys!!! first I want to say that I'm so thankful for everything you're doing and I hope you have an amazing day <333 I was wondering if perhaps you knew any good zombie apocalypse AU fics? Or it doesn't necessarily need to be zombies but I'm looking for that kind of apocalyptic vibe (not the hell and heaven war tho). Thank you so much in advance!! <33

Hello! There's a bunch:

Summer's End by FeralTuxedo [E]

2095. Britain is a post-apocalyptic wasteland ravaged by droughts, the collapse of civilisation, and hordes of the undead. Despite that, Aziraphale’s life is actually pretty good. He has his caravan, his books, and his work, offering his services to the men who stop by Tadfield on their arduous journey north.

One day, a mysterious stranger knocks on his door. Crowley is charming and handsome and he appears to know his way around a vegetable garden. He comes with the tempting offer of a mutually beneficial arrangement. But it’s in Aziraphale’s best interest not to get too attached.

A dystopian cottagecore sex worker AU.

Tribute by snae_b [E]

Water is scarce, the surface is unlivable, and Eden isn’t the paradise Aziraphale once thought he knew. But for a Guardian on the run, it's out of one lion's den, into another.

is there anybody out there? by theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084) [E]

Welcome to the zombie apocalypse. England has been overrun by walking corpses, everything's gone to hell, and the few survivors are scattered- among them, Crowley and his 11-year-old son Warlock. When Crowley's radio signal is unexpectedly picked up by another group of survivors, he finds himself falling, in a way he never thought he'd fall again, for the charming and kindly Aziraphale. Over three seasons and a tenuous radio connection, a romance develops between them, while a friendship grows between Warlock and Aziraphale's nephew Adam. Love isn't dead (or undead) after all.

Zombie Apocalypse by AppleSeeds [T]

When a meteor strikes Earth carrying a virus that can 'turn people into zombies', Aziraphale finds himself responsible for a group of frightened teenagers at an airbase-turned-hospital in Tadfield. Aziraphale is terrified, but experiences some relief when the teens introduce him to Crowley, who has a plan to get them all to safety. When things don't exactly go according to plan and with the zombies closing in, Aziraphale must face his fears in order to protect the children from becoming infected.

~Mod N

[uraniumwriting]

Fear and Rot and Strangers in the Mirror

For this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: Fear is a sickness!

749 words. Caspian tries to stand up to Eden.

CW for mentions of abuse, emotional manipulation. Lmk if there's any others you think should be tagged!

~~

Gripping the edge of the half-broken sink, I tried to remember how to think like a human being.

The cheery fiddle music and laughter from the main dance hall blared in the dark, cramped bathroom mainly made of wood that almost looked rotted, but the only thought in my mind was of those icy blue eyes. Of course, how could I forget them?  Those eyes stared at me nearly every day of my childhood, sometimes with pity, mostly with disappointment.

But still, how could Eden have possibly found me at the tucked-away dance hall? Not only was I shielded by the sheer number of people in the city, but also by the fact that the dance hall was in such a shady area. It had seemed to be the perfect place to spend a few hours without thinking about everything that had happened to me in the past year and a half.

Then Eden just had to show up.

I gripped the sink tighter and gasped for air. My lungs burned, and my heart threatened to jump out of my chest. Had it always been so dark in the bathroom?

He would find me. I needed to run, but my legs just buckled underneath me.

As the door creaked open (of course, the lock didn’t work), I opened my mouth to scream, but no noise came out.

Someone lifted my corpse-like body and yanked my head up, so I was forced to look at myself in the mirror.

“Such a shame this is what you’ve turned into,” Eden said.

At the sound of his voice, tears rolled down my cheeks. I was dying. I was dead.

“Remember when you were such a strong, brave young man?” he asked.

I forced myself to focus on the image in front of me. Eden was the same as he always had been, his gray hair neatly combed back and his demeanor cold and menacing. But, on the other hand, I didn’t recognize myself. The person staring back at me had such disheveled hair, and brown eyes that looked like those of a deer with the amount of fear in them.

“Caspian—”

“Shut up.” Though my fingers burned with the memory of flames years prior, I regained my grip on the sink. “I’m better without you.”

“This city has rotted you with the hysteria of its people.” Eden ran his fingers though my hair, and if it hadn’t been so difficult for me to speak, I likely would’ve screamed. His touch, which I would’ve mistaken for being fatherly long ago, was like venom tearing through my skin.

“There’s no hysteria when it comes to you,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You would be dead without me.”

“Maybe I wish I was.”

Finally finding some strength in me, I turned and shoved him away from. My grip on the sink was still the only thing keeping me from collapsing, but at least I didn’t stare at that stranger in the mirror anymore.

Eden stared at me for a long moment. “If you had just done as you were told, you wouldn’t know what the meaning of fear was. You would know happiness and peace, and so would have everyone else.”

“That won’t work on me anymore,” I said.

“Fear will destroy this city, boy.” He took a step toward me.

Maybe it was just the way I barely felt like I was in my own body, if not for the death grip I had on the sink, but for once, I didn’t flinch.

“This city has seen fear before, and yet it’s still here.” I blinked fast to keep the dark spots out of my vision. “I could scream, you know, and the people here would tear you to shreds.”

“And yet, you won’t.”

He was right.

Eden chuckled. “Go back to your little dances, Caspian. One day, you’ll grow up and know what I mean.”

Before I could even try to snap something back at him, Eden turned and left the bathroom. Thankfully for my dignity, he closed the door behind him and left me in the darkness alone.

Sighing, I turned and silently greeted the stranger staring at me again. He reminded me of when I was younger, when I was afraid and didn’t even know it.

Eden was wrong. He had to be.

Still, that didn’t stop my body from finally giving out on me and letting my head slam into the floor.

[rlyc00l]

Rhys gets to know his new "team" as he tries to get a handle on his potentially profitable (but let's be real, most likely fatal) situation. Claptrap is irritating. A certain helmet-wearing asshole seems intent on making things difficult.

Hi guys I had a few chapters basically ready to go (mostly laid out and just needing some editing) and you know what? I'm just gonna post them as they're ready.

EDIT: Chapter also under the break!

———— A few of Rhys’s new bandit companions had taken it upon themselves to haul out the corpses and body parts that littered the place. Rhys would have offered to help, but corpses were pretty gross and he had claimed himself a nice warm spot by the furnace. 

He wasn’t the only one not participating, that first one he’d met–who he’d started mentally referring to with the inventive nickname of “Helmet Asshole”–ignored the corpses in favor of rifling through cabinets, boxes, and shelves, occasionally pocketing ammo or whatever else they found. The big, masked bandit sat beside the fire, holding his hands nearly inside the flames. And the Claptrap rolled around, complaining about his missing eye and bumping into things. 

As the others finally settled in for the night, Rhys found it impossible to fall asleep, lying there on the hard metal floor. Nearby, the fire crackled, the Claptrap whirred, one of the bandits snored, and the big one murmured to himself. Sighing, he rolled onto his back and opened a map on his ECHOeye interface. There had to be a way back to Helios–some Hyperion outpost or something. 

Or, nothing. There was nothing. Nothing in any direction, for miles. Just ice and a few abandoned villages, some marked “Bandit Infested”. Silently, Rhys apologized to Handsome Jack for ever doubting his propaganda. It seemed his only choice was to stick with this pack of bandits who, for now, had decided against killing him. He could figure things out as he went. Every trial was an opportunity in disguise, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that how that motivational poster went? The one with Handsome Jack, standing on the corpse of the Destroyer. 

This was the planet that made Jack the man he was, after all. He could prove himself here. If these bandits were important enough that Jack wanted them dead, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. 

Rhys sat up, confirming everyone was asleep before activating his ECHOeye and scanning the soldier, sleeping a few feet away. Axton. Ex-Dahl commando, dishonorable discharge. War criminal. Five billion reward. Surely Jack would pay a percentage of that for his location. Maybe, Rhys would find a chance to covertly ECHO into Hyperion without alerting the bandits. Jack himself would send down soldiers and a ride back home. If Rhys survived, he’d live a long life as the second richest man on Helios. Next, he scanned the short one–Salvador–who slept propped up against a wall, snoring. Salvador was a Pandoran native with a long list of crimes, cannibalism among them. A 720 billion bounty. If Rhys were a stronger man, this room would practically be an Eridium mine. But there was no fooling himself, he stood no chance in a fight. No, he’d just scan them, one by one. His ECHOeye history would serve to prove to Hyperion that he was in close proximity to them.

Next, Helmet Asshole. He’d seen them situate themself further from the others, on a couch against the wall, or…Wait, where’d they go? He looked around the room. Gone. 

Had they moved on alone? Fine by him, that was one less bandit.

Rhys sat up enough to see the teenager. It was hard to feel good about the prospect of selling out a kid, but sacrifices had to be made.

Gaige. A high school senior right out of Eden-5, tech-wiz, and total nerd, built a killer robot that murdered another student. 

Too bad, she could have made something of herself in Hyperion. Her bounty was 820 billion, leaving Rhys to wonder how they came up with these numbers. If he could take any of these bandits in a fight, it was the teenager. Her crappy, bargain bin cybernetic arm looked homemade. 

Then there was the big guy, still murmuring to himself. He tossed and turned as he slept, the other sleepers had given him a wide berth. 

Krieg. “Property of Hyperion”. That gave Rhys pause. He’d heard the rumors, bandits and incompetent employees alike dragged off to laboratories on Pandora for unethical experiments. The guy looked like the product of that sort of thing. It was hard not to pity him, but listening to the murmurings of “No…flayed her shining jugular…wear your face as a hat…ribcage tied into knots…” Okay, right, whatever he was, probably best off with Hyperion now. A hundred billion.  

Maya. She seemed human, almost normal, despite threatening him. She’d stood up for him and helped him out. Even so–  

“What are you doing?” Helmet Asshole materialized out of previously empty space, looming over him. In a swift motion, they crouched, their eponymous helmet a foot away from his face. 

Rhys shut off the ECHOeye. “Nothing, I–” They grabbed his chin, forcibly turning his head to face them as they leaned closer. “An ECHOeye. No surprise. / You were scanning them.” 

He glanced sideways. Everyone was still sleeping, Helmet Asshole had been keeping their voice down. “And what the hell were you doing?” he hissed. 

“Doesn’t concern you. / You’re the Hyperion stooge. / Will you sell us out?” 

Rhys hesitated. “Look, I-I’m just trying to get my bearings here. They pointed guns at me. I needed to find out who I’m dealing with.” 

They considered for a moment, releasing his face. It ached where they’d held him. “Understandable. / Was there anything of note? / I would like to know.” 

He looked at them, doubting he’d heard right. “I mean, they’re all dangerous wanted murderers? I-I don’t know what you’re looking for. No entries saying ‘they’ll kill you in your sleep’ but…” 

“Nothing useful?” “Depends on your definition of useful.”

They sighed and projected something blindingly bright in his face, Rhys turned away from the glare. 

“It’s of no matter,” they said, standing. “I will warn you. Sell me out, / And I’ll have your head.” 

“Right. I will definitely not do that.” Red light was still dancing in his vision. 

They stood and returned to their couch, lying down with their legs hanging over the end. There’d be no way of knowing when they fell asleep. No more scanning, then. He lay back, closing his eyes. 

———

“Wake up, my loyal minions! You have a bullymong to kill and a fearless leader to avenge!” It was still dim when the Claptrap began zipping around again, running into anyone too slow to get out of the way, occasionally letting out an “oof” or “ow.” The others woke with groggy protests and threats. “Knuckle-Dragger won’t know what hit him! It’ll be bullets and lots of them! Presumably! I guess it could also be swords, or fists, or a hatchet, or a really big stick, or…” Rhys was sore, hungry, and tired. Never had he wanted to murder anything so bad as he wanted to murder that stupid loud robot. He half-expected one of the bandits to do him a favor in that regard, impulsive as bandits were known to be, but none of them stepped up to the task. 

They were soon all out the door, and onto the bright, icy tundra. Helmet Asshole quickly got ahead of them, as did the blinded Claptrap. Sometimes, someone would warn it before it fell off a ledge or ran into something, but more often, they just let it happen. 

Before long Krieg was rushing after the robot, kicking up snow and laughing with his buzzaxe raised high, never bringing it down to smash the thing’s head in.  

“Wait! I found your larynx putrefying on the rocks! Why aren’t you suffocating?!” 

His movements were as erratic. Every once in a while he’d stop suddenly, twitching or smacking himself, sometimes delivering an intense one-eyed stare to one of the others. Rhys was on the receiving end of most of those. 

“Hey, uh, aren’t guys like him kind of murder-happy and extremely unpredictable?” Rhys asked Maya, keeping his voice low after the third murderous-looking glare in the past half hour. 

“Like your boss?” 

“I…I guess. Former boss, for the record.” Rhys ignored the urge to defend Jack’s decisions regarding murder. “But I mean, is it safe having him around?” 

“I think everyone’s wondering the same thing about you.” “I’m not waving around a buzzaxe and yelling about larynxes.” “Fair, but Krieg seems to be pretty in control of everything but his mouth. More or less.” 

“He keeps looking at me like he wants to rip out my spine.”

Maya shrugged. “From what I can gauge, Hyperion did that to him. Can you blame him? He helped me out earlier, and he was the first one to decide not to kill you. Perhaps you should be more open-minded?” 

“No, I think maybe you’re being too open-minded,” Axton cut in from behind, stepping in beside Rhys. “That guy’s been filled chock full of eridium. People like that? Ticking time bombs. He’s second place on the list of guys who’ll probably kill us in our sleep. You’re third, by the way, Reeze.” He grinned as he said it.

“It’s Rhys, and uh…” He gave a choked chuckle, trying to figure out if the guy was joking or not. “I’m not planning to? Uh, who’s first? On that list.” 

“That would be Zer0.” He gestured to Helmet Asshole, walking alone, far out of earshot. They seemed to glide across the snow while the rest trudged through it. “If I were Jack, I would have hired them to finish us off. Creepy bastard.” Rhys watched them. They were near the Claptrap. The robot was chattering at them, giving the others a blessed break from its voice. “I mean, to be fair, they had ample opportunity to kill me after the train crashed.” He said it half to reassure himself. 

Axton laughed. “Huh, wonder why not, Hyperion.” 

“Hey, if Jack meant for me to play double agent, he wouldn’t have tried to blow me up.” 

“Yeah, I don’t get that. Why not kill you normally?” It was the first time Gaige had bothered acknowledging Rhys since their first encounter–until now she’d just been giving him quick, suspicious looks. “You don’t look hard to kill.”

“Make it look like an accident, I guess? He didn’t want to martyr me. My whole division might have rebelled.”  It was a good question, now that he considered it. Maybe Vasquez’s traditional airlock method would get him in trouble unless he tore out all of Rhys’s cybernetics. Vasquez wasn’t patient enough for those surgical procedures. “I was speaking out against what Jack’s been doing here, on Pandora. And subtly influencing things, y’know? Di-diverting shipments, sabotaging production, stuff like that.” That sounded pretty good.

“Wow, that’s almost respectable. I mean, not as much as you know, not working for Hyperion in the first place, but good on you, I guess?” Gaige said. 

 “Hey, I had to make a living somehow, and I’m not exactly Dahl-soldier material.”

“You shoulda killed someone,” Salvador caught him by surprise from below his field of vision. The man was a little over five feet tall and nearly as wide–all of it muscle. Something about him was more intimidating than even Krieg. “I woulda killed someone. Preferably Jack.” 

“I uh, yeah, I guess I should have… To be fair, I didn’t get a chan–” 

He was interrupted by the Claptrap’s shrill cry. Up ahead, the bot was in its panic mode, its limbs retracted as it shuddered in simulated terror. A bullymong, near the same size as Salvador, was charging toward it. At least a dozen more were climbing out of burrows in the nearby ice wall.

The bandits had drawn their weapons before Rhys processed what was happening. Backing away, he glimpsed Zer0, appearing in the first bullymong’s path. Salvador wielded a pair of guns, laughing and firing both with little regard for Krieg, who ran straight through the line of fire without slowing. 

“Ah! The meat delivery is here!” Krieg shouted, swinging his buzzaxe into the nearest foe.  

Rhys didn’t see where Gaige or Axton had gone to, nor did he know how everyone got so far from him so fast, but he found himself alone in the open. 

One of the bullymongs, repelled by Salvador’s gunfire, chose him as an easier target. Remembering the stun rod, he yanked it from his belt, barely managing to activate it before the creature reached him. He jabbed at it, unleashing a jolt of electricity into its shoulder. It let out a pained roar, but didn’t let up. It began to circle him from a distance, testing for an opening. Turning, he kept the stun rod between him and the bullymong. It stepped forward, he jabbed in its direction, it backed away, then tried again. Rhys was feeling good about this, he’d just keep it up until–

Something crashed into him from behind, knocking him face-first into the snow. A second bullymong. It stood on his back, one oversized hand clamped around his arm, another pushed his head down. He turned the stun rod in his hand and jabbed backward. Empty air. The creature roared. Rhys felt its breath on his scalp, saliva dribbling into his hair. 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit–

All at once, the weight lifted from him. He rolled over in time to see the bullymong floating above him, surrounded by a strange energy. Then Krieg drove his buzzaxe into it, spattering both himself and Rhys in hot gore. The bullymong’s limp body was thrown off to the side. 

Sitting up and looking around, he saw the other bullymong lying already dead in front of him, Maya standing over it. Her tattoos seemed to glow. Elsewhere the gunfire had ceased, the fighting had finished. 

He shakily got to his feet, heart still pounding. “You gonna be alright?” Maya asked. The glow had already faded.  

He gave a weak nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great. I’m just… I’m great.” He thought he might throw up, but he’d try to hold off on that for now. Nothing felt broken, at least. He wiped his face on his sleeve and brushed loose snow from his clothes. Some of it had melted into the fabric when he’d fallen, and some of that had already frozen again. Hopefully, they’d find somewhere warm soon.

“Ah! Sweet treats from the flesh pinata!” Krieg was absolutely riddled with bullet holes, but he gave Rhys the happiest look a single visible eye could muster. 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Maya looked Krieg up and down, a hand on her hip. “He doesn’t seem to be dying anytime soon. How you feeling, big guy?” 

“Ten thousand decapitations!”

“Sounds good to me.” 

“Looks like we walked right into a nest,” he heard Axton say. “I’m like, ninety percent sure these are human bones…Oh yeah, that’s definitely someone’s skull.” 

There were little scattered piles of bullymong refuse, mostly bones, sometimes a bit of fur. Something shiny and yellow gleamed in a nearby pile. A halfway-decent Hyperion pistol. Exactly what Rhys needed–next time he could defend himself. 

He approached, only to have Zer0 once again materialize in front of him. They bent over, picked up the gun, and turned it in their hands with a “Hmm…” Their helm projected an ellipses. 

“Hey uh, can I have that? I’m feeling a little vulnerable here, with just this.” He raised the deactivated stun rod. 

“You know how to shoot?” they asked. 

“It’s Hyperion, it’s made so anyone can pick it up and shoot.” That was one of their advertising lines, at least. It didn’t seem that hard to figure out. “It’s as good a time as any to learn, right?” 

They looked at him and back at the gun. “Next time, you should move faster.” The pistol evaporated into particles as they deconstructed it into their storage deck. A slashed zero projected from their helmet. “If you live that long.” They turned away, leaving Rhys scrambling for an insult he couldn’t find. “Oh, come on!” he shouted after them. “You didn’t even want that!” 

———

Somehow, Rhys survived the rest of the day’s trek. The group encountered two smaller packs of bullymongs before it ended. Absurdly, the value of Rhys’s life seemed to be a rung lower than the Claptrap’s, but if he stayed close to the bot he was equally protected.The tactic struck him as pathetic when everyone else was more than capable of defending themselves. Worse, it gave the Claptrap the opportunity to bother him, and that stupid little bot had exceptional hearing. 

“Wimping out, eh? Don’t feel too bad, chum, we all gotta start somewhere! Except me, I was built with the courage of ten men! But as for you, I’m sure you’ll find your courage if you don’t die horribly. Which probably won’t happen–or wait, what temperature do humans freeze to death at? Ah, well, nothing you can do if that happens. I guess you also have to worry about all the bullets, and the…” 

Rhys fought the temptation to try his ECHOeye on the thing, see if he could mute it. Who knew what malware a defunct idiot robot had on it? At least the blindness allowed him to sneak away as soon as the danger subsided. It made him wonder why they were even bothering to hunt down the thing’s eye. Was a blind Claptrap so bad? Besides the being-a-Claptrap part? 

When they stopped for the night to make camp, Zer0 rejoined the group. 

“I’ve spotted its tracks. / It has passed through recently. / We’ll need to keep watch.” 

“You wanna give us any specific details, or do ya gotta stick to seventeen syllables?” Axton asked. “Like, you know, where’s it headed, how long ago, that kind of thing?” 

They gave him a look that seemed meant as a glare before sitting near the fire. “Is there food?” they more demanded than asked. 

“Salvador’s working on it,” Gaige said. 

Dinner was to be the meaty arms of a bullymong that Krieg had buzzsawed off. It didn’t look edible, but both Krieg and Salvador insisted it was good. Or, in the former’s case, that it “Hole punches your bloodied tongue!” said with the kind of enthusiasm that made it sound positive.The latter was cooking one of the limbs over the fire. It smelled like pork with a trace of burnt plastic. Rhys hadn’t eaten for the better part of two days. He was hungry enough to risk…toxins, or whatever.

When it was cooked, though, he found himself almost equally concerned with watching Zer0 as he was with chewing the tough, strange meat. He wasn’t alone in this, he realized. Everyone but Krieg and the Claptrap were snatching glances, apparently wondering if they’d see what was underneath the helmet. But Zer0 only walked away with their portion, vanishing behind a jagged chunk of ice. 

“Anyone up to following them?” Axton asked. 

“I suspect they’re the type to kill you if you see their face,” Maya gave a shrug, her attention returning to her meal. 

“The curiosity is gonna kill me on its own. I mean, what if they’re a robot or something, and we’re wasting food?” 

“They were bleeding, before,” Rhys put in. “After the train blew up.”  

“Puncture the skinsuit! Make it pop!” Krieg was shoving bits of meat up through the bottom of his mask, also denying the others a view of his face. He was at least clearly human, mutated as he may be. 

“Eh. Probably just super ugly,” Salvador said through a mouth full of bullymong. 

———

Rhys was spared from keeping watch that night. Maybe there was something to being a weak Hyperion stooge, it meant a few hours’ extra rest. 

It was still dark when he woke shivering. Somewhere, something howled raucously. He sat up, looking around. Thankfully, the Claptrap was in sleep-mode, and the others were asleep. Except for Zer0. They stopped pacing the camp to look at him. He gave them a slight wave. They went back to pacing without so much as a second glance. They reminded Rhys of a big cat at a zoo, waiting to be fed. 

His ECHOeye told him it was 12:22 AM. Zer0 should have ended their watch and woken Maya hours ago. He hadn’t seen them sleep at all.  

“Are those more bullymong?” he asked when Zer0 was near again. “They sound really close.” 

They stopped, gave a nod. He noticed they were shivering. They were so lanky, even compared to him. How well insulated from the cold could they possibly be? He’d feel bad for them if they hadn’t been such an asshole. 

“Should we be worried?” “I never worry. / If they venture near enough, / My blade will find them.” 

“Right...” Geez, edgelord much?

They cocked their head, thoughtfully. “Though, perhaps you should. / If you fall a second time. / You may not be saved.” 

“You could have let me have the gun.” “I could have.”  

He lay back down. “Your watch is up, you know?” Rhys had years of experience dealing with assholes, he’d learned to be professional about this sort of thing. 

“Yes.” 

“You should probably sleep, right?” 

“I need little sleep. / The others will miss something. / I will stay awake.” 

That seemed slightly insulting to the other’s abilities, but at least Zer0 wasn’t only a condescending dick to Rhys. He considered pointing out their place on Axton’s “Most likely to kill us in our sleep” list, but thought better of it. Might give them ideas. 

[mayasaura]

So Anastasia is waiting in the tomb to reseal it of it gets opened. Does John know this? Because I am remember him at some point telling Harrow she can't have opened the Tomb it's (currently) closed. Because one - well that's a strange capability to hide from John unless you see a need to open the Tomb either multiple times or without him finding out. Two - Anastasia's reaction to Harrow coming in and then walking out would be interesting. And also the timing of when given Alecto's haunting.

That is a very good question. Does John know that Anastasia has been made into—or made herself into—a construct that can reseal the Tomb? Or did he only mean for her to die there, and take his secrets with her? I honestly have no idea. My first assumption had been that John arranged it so he could visit Alecto in secret, but that would be very risky and there's no evidence to support it. We don't know if he even knows it's possible for the ward to be breached and then resealed.

I do think what we saw in there was a construct made from Anastasia's corpse, rather than Anastasia's revenant. Maybe she's a hideous corpse, her revenant bound to a construct of her own bones, but it's impossible to say at this point how much of Anastasia is left after ten thousand years. She may or may not have been aware of Harrow's coming and going. But let's say she's in there, and conscious, and has been standing guard over Alecto for ten thousand years. Who put her there?

Anastasia worked closely with Cassiopeia, and Cassiopeia knew a great deal more than John about blood wards. It's possible she and Anastasia planned to be able to access the Tomb without John's knowledge. Cassiopeia has been known to build secret mechanisms at the heart of Houses. And if Augustine meant it about Harrow being very much like Anastasia, then using her own bones as the material for the mechanism sounds just like her, too.

Evidence from the labs suggests that it was Anastasia and Cassiopeia who created the skeletal servitors at Canaan House, but also that they asked for John's input on that project. So that's sum zero; any of them could have done it.

Putting aside for a moment who set it up, you bring up another great question: Has anyone other than Harrow been in there?

If it's John's doing, he probably has. Boring answer, doesn't delve into any deep mysteries. If it was Anastasia and Cassiopeia... Well. I can think of at least one time the Tomb was a sitting duck. At the moment of Harrow's conception there was a thanergy bloom large enough to irradiate the planet, and the key to the Tomb was already on the Ninth. Literally anyone could have rolled the Rock away, provided they knew who Gideon was and knew that the thanergy bloom was going to happen. I can't say whether or not anyone did, but it would have been possible.

This has me thinking about some of the other unanswered questions. Like how weirdly convenient it is that Harrow's parents were able to reinvent the Resurrection to make her, when there's no evidence of them having an expertise in spirit magic. And how oddly coincidental the timing, that preparations to put the plan into action must have started around the time of Gideon's birth. Why create one last child of Anastasia's direct line, if it comes at the expense of any future for her House? How does Blood of Eden have inside knowledge of the Sixth House, millennia out of date? Who sent the message Aim carries, and who is it meant for?

It does seem like there's a third party working behind the scenes, and there has been for a very long time. Someone with a great deal of knowledge about spirit magic, who knows about the vow Alecto made to Anastasia, who has reason to want the truth to come out. Whether that third party is Anastasia, or Anastasia working in concert with Cassiopeia, or some secret third option, I can't be sure. But there is a whiff of conspiracy about it that has only gotten stronger with the revelations in Nona.

But really, I just want Anastasia to be there of her own volition, for some more dignified reason than to act as John's sepulchral porter. Might as well make Samael into a coat rack to complete the set.

[lyriumheart]

trailer observations:

marika waged some kind of war to take control of grace and gold

and when she won she used it to seperate the world in two

the shadow world is a world 'without grace', she basically banished a bunch of stuff she didnt want in her new world there

possibly also messmer? either he was sent there after she had no more use for him, or was sent there to keep the place sealed away (i think the latter)

given how miq believes that grace can be found in ALL beings in the lands between and welcomes all, i wonder if he went to the realm of shadow to find a way to reunite the two

im FASCINATED by how the grace she puills from that corpse looks like its made of threads. symbolic of radagon perhaps? with his golden needle and thread, and how his symbol is like a stitch or lattice, and how he tried to 'stitch' the erdrtee back together after the shattering.

miq's ring reminds me of lilith's symbol a bit

could certainly be a reach,

that said:

there does seem to be a bit of conjugating lilith (and to some extent, eve) with marika too- shes shown with flowing golden hair like lilith, created or took 'gold' and lilith is often associated with the concept of 'first gold', then theres a tree like the tree in eden, a snake is the 'enemy'-

im also reminded of lilu of mesopotamian myth, a spirit in the tree that is associated with a serpent, and sometimes conflated with lilith. although that spirit is male if im rembering correctly.

the lilith connection with marika does really feel stronger now for me though, esp considering we have a part of the tanakh relating to lilith that says 'her castles will be overgrown with thorns'

sounds a lot like how we find a lot of the ruins to me. especially stormveil....

there's also the idea of lilith killing her own children and 'her house sinks into death' (forgor where that quote is from specifically, might be the dead sea scrolls?)

not sure what this has to do with miquella himself, but given that we're going to be looking into the origins of marika, it's no surprise that there's so much about her in just this trailer.

ive just had lilith mythology in mind recently though, so the connections could just be me doing this

[leitereads]

Poor Things, and how God died

“God is dead, and we have killed it”, more than a century and a half later, Poor Things materializes Nietzsche’s concept with such intensity that I have had moments throughout the film where I simply couldn’t help but to watch it open-eyed and with my mouth opened.

Today we talk a lot about women liberation and gender equality, and we see media representing these topics more and more, and yet it’s disappointing to see that such representations don’t go over what we already know: gender inequality is bad, and women should be as free as men are.

Poor Things doesn’t simply tell us that, it shows us that. We follow the life of Bella Baxter, a reanimated corpse whose brain is the one of her unborn child. With her second chance at life, Bella goes through the several states of development, in a self-discovery journey, always slipping away from the grasp of men, who try to claim her as their own, and cage her in their own little cages, designed by their expectations, desires and traditions. Bella breaks away, finding herself throughout the process. Firstly, as she explores her physical/sensory world, and then as she takes in the meaning of her experiences.

We see the many faces of men, their motivations for controlling women, and the ways in which they do so: marriage, sexual intimacy, fatherhood, you name it. And we see how Bella slips away which and every time, by remaining true to herself, and reclaiming what should be hers by default: her Humanity and freedom.

Although the film focuses on freedom and self-expression, there are other underlying themes, such as redemption and the manipulation of Nature. This story’s setting is the Victorian age (by the looks of it the late 19th century), a pivotal time for advancements and a passage to a more modern world. A time that mirrors Bella’s experience in life.

Redemption manifests right at the end of the film, with Alfie reclaiming the body of his dead wife (Victoria, now Bella) as his own, deeming her “territory”. According to the information given by Alfie, Victoria herself had a sadistic sense of humour, and she wasn’t exactly welcomed to her old home by her servants. By being reborn with the pure brain of an infant, Victoria is given a new chance at life, a change granted by “god”, who shapes the world around her, so she can grow up in that Eden that he created for her specifically.

The film culminates with the death of God, Bella having killed it by expanding her Eden and letting in a whole new array of life experiences, determined to help others finding their own Edens, by giving them power over their own mortal flesh. Being a doctor allows her to help others finding their own way, but it also allows her to explore the human being through many different lenses, right to the core of Humanity.

As a Portuguese, I couldn’t help but notice that Bella’s journey started in Lisbon, Portugal, the country that initiated the Discovery Era, an era in which we also experienced what the world had to offer. And instead of taking it in internally and use it to improve ourselves, like Bella did, we forcefully tried to dominate the freedom of others, much like in the fashion of Duncan.

Aside from the poor representation on how to eat pastéis de nata, the story is perfectly weaved, showing us the intricacies of equality and power dynamics in our society.

[loadedberetta]

the wolf is not to blame // Ghost x Reader (fem no body desc)

cw implied non-con, general dark woods vibe, intimidation, hunter-prey dynamics

1.2k words

She registered the pair of boots sitting by the foot of the dresser like a parasite latched onto its host. They'd been there for weeks. Two weeks almost exactly, since Simon moved out, rather stormed out of the apartment one night after a particularly nasty fight. They burned the decaying remnants of their relationship, and argued over the fire, streaks of the greenish-red flames illuminating their true faces.

She'd also found a jumper in the laundry basket that she couldn't touch for the life of her. As if roots grew around it and pulled it down to the bottom of the hamper, turning it into rot and moss, somehow sustaining her while simultaneously plaguing her every growing sprout of potential happiness.

Still, she couldn't rid her sweet garden, the lovely place she retreated to each night of his belongings.

She half-expected for him to return, and convinced herself to keep the items around.

Even when a lone trespasser stumbled upon her carefully curated eden and plucked her ripe fruits right when they were the most supple and sweet, leaving behind empty apple cores strewn around the patch and nasty bootmarks in his wake, as he left just as quickly as he intruded into the dense woods on a whim.

- And the time Simon returned, couldn't have come soon enough. She knew it was coming, the crisp air around her had already whispered about him to her. When the three knocks on the front door resonated in the home, she wasn't even surprised. She opened the door to find Simon waiting in the hallway. He spoke before she could. "'m looking for a jumper and a pair of boots. Must 'ave left 'em here."He grumbled in his gruff voice, avoiding her gaze.

She sighed and opened the door more. "Be quick about it." That's all she told him before he walked past her, hands in pockets, hood of his sweater still up.

He disappeared into the bedroom quickly before emerging with the pair of boots. "The jumper?" He asked noncommittally and waited for her to reply with a tilt of his head.

"Laundry." She answered a little breathy, unsure why she was short of air. Him disappearing in the bathroom pulled her from her thoughts and she followed. She stood still in the doorway and looked up at him, only to see that he was holding a foreign piece of clothing in his hand.

"Whose is this?" He asked almost accusingly. Her face hardened and she snatched the garment from him. "None of your concern." She replied while she exited the bathroom and threw the item on the bed to hide her embarrassment about letting him find it, hoping the fabric of the covers would swallow the piece of cloth like a wet pile of leaves disappear a small corpse of an animal.

She couldn't see his hardening expression, lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the place she disappeared from.

"You done packing?" She asked when she returned, trying to shift the topic from the obvious. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and looked up at him, expecting an answer.

He reached into the laundry basket and pulled out the jumper he came for; "I'm not going anywhere." Came his reply, along with a stern, almost meditating look at her.

"You don't live here anymore, Simon. Now get your shit and leave." She retorted, trying to hold her ground, but starting to slip on the mossy, muddy ground and rapidly losing her footing in the dense, wet holt he summoned around her with his words.

"You were with someone." His mouth barely moved with his words, yet their weight sat heavily on her shoulders like vines growing on her unrelenting.

"None of your damn business." She hissed at him, feeling cornered by his presence.

"Someone spent the night here." He stated the obvious. Someone breached his territory.

"What happens then?" She scoffed audibly, but it sounded too desperate to be believable. "You don't own me anymore, Simon."

He chuckled darkly, maybe how she imagined a fox to laugh. "Foolish of you to think tha'…" He sighed pensively and moved ever so slightly closer to her. "Do you have any idea how much of a stupid fuckin' idea it was, to let anyone else touch you?"

His voice dripped with sarcasm, much like a prey animal's saliva hangs from its teeth when they sense the addictive aroma of fear filling the air the closer they creep to their helpless victims.

"You had your chance, and you messed it up." Her hands gripped the doorframe behind her as she felt Simon's suffocating presence close in on her.

He scoffed, bearing his fangs. "You think I'm the reason we broke up? That just proves my point, pet." He accentuated the derogatory name he used, which made her flinch. His brows shot up slightly as he continued; "Everything that happened was your fault. You pushed me away, the only person who seemed to care about you… for someone who leaves the moment they get their feed from you? I took you to be better than that, but I guess I was wrong…" He practically drawled, metaphorically licking at the supple pink of her skin before biting down on a vital vein.

"Get out." She managed to force it out of her mouth as Simon towered over her. She would have been too embarrassed for him to sense just how much of an effect she had on him. "I don't want to hear it." She said, squeezing her eyes closed, her hand in the air pointing toward the front door.

"Just because I'm right?" He smirked and tilted his head slightly again. "Look at you, you can't even deny it, pet." He was standing over her at this point, belittling her with solely his broad, muscular figure that seemed to be covered in dark, dark fur that furrowed in excitement and wrath equally.

"Oh fuck off…" She turned away from her, feet rooted in place by a nefarious rush of an emotion vaguely similar to zeal, danger close to triggering her fight or flight response. "Why are you suddenly so interested in what I'm feeling?" She squeezed the words past her lips with her eyes screwing shut.

"I'm interested in what you're not feeling… and that is me." He leaned in, face only inches from hers, his hot breath fanning over her exposed jugular. "If I'm a joke to you, why are you still afraid of me?" He growled at her, donning a wolfish grin she didn't dare observe, as it was already plastered on the insides of her lids.

"Simon, please leave." She whispered. "Leave before I make you leave." Her terrified, delicious scent slowly crept up his searchingly flaring nostrils.

He laughed that small muted laugh that reminded her of a hyena almost; condescending and mocking.

"You can't make me." He took a final step toward her, closing the last stride between them and enclosing her in his vicious space. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry." He soothed her with his venom while snaking his hand up to her face, where he cupped her cheek with a bruising strength, pressing her flesh onto her teeth, making her wince. "I'll always be here for you, even if you don't want me to."

so yeah- I don't think I should string this idea any further, it sits right with me as is. feral possessive Simon will always have my heart.

[djsherriff-responses]

Bullfrog headcanon rambles under cut

This is mostly me rambling to figure out how I want to approach Bullfrog and his past in road trip au as well as maybe get second opinions on my ideas?

Admittedly worried about canon eventually destroying whatever I do come up with for Bullfrog but that's the beauty of aus I guess

I really am positive Bullfrog has some connection to Polokus, but I think for narrative sakes I won't explore that outside of "uh weird Bullfrog is so similar to that guy" as I can't really figure out how to do that without making Bullfrog a demi god of sorts and that seems kinda overkill

Unless I went full on nightmare fuel and Polokus is a rotting corpse within Eden's secret science storage, like Lilith from evangelion.... That might be fun actually

Between the hybrids existing for a specific purpose and the art book talking about Dolph's genetics being ideal for augmentation, we can conclude Eden is definitely playing God with DNA and technology

I seen some people headcanon Bullfrog being a science experiment before the assassin brotherhood took him in, an idea I like

BUUUUT I actually wanna make it so Bullfrog had a normal ish childhood before his life as an assassin, and also had younger siblings because I diagnosed that frog with eldest daughter syndrome

So I may have it where one of his parents were a failed experiment instead. They were made and experimented on to get the ability to see the future but it only manifested as a passive gene that went by unnoticed by the labs, so the frog was let go (or escaped) , met another froggy and they had Bullfrog and his siblings, Bullfrog inherited the gene and got the future seeing bubbles

Debating if he grew up in France or Canada

At some point something happens where only Bullfrog survives, he gets taken in by the Creed and then ends up the sole survivor of whatever took out the brotherhood

I definitely think as well that Bullfrog has a fear of committing to relationships and a general paranoia of people around him hurting him after becoming the only assassin within Eden (and the world at large). Like I definitely think Bullfrog wants friends and other meaningful relationships, he probably knows he has to try or else he won't find anyone willing to join him rebuilding the Creed, but being surrounded by a society that's been brainwashed by the Templar order since their birth prob has him more on edge than he lets on