#it's about being sent to destroy and instead staying to love and protect and nurture I'M CRAZY I'M CRAZY RAAAAAAAGGHHHH

[joycrispy]

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

TK and Carlos in NY, meeting his old friends and crew. They can run into Alex or not up to you. Please and thank you.

I hope this answers your prompt well enough and of course I had to torture TK with his ex.  I love how as a fandom we have all made him a borderline abusive creep for the most part.  Fandom is great.  Hope you enjoy this :)

TK had thought coming to New York would be fun.  It turned out there were more memories he wanted to avoid instead of revisit.  

They were leaving the day after tomorrow and honestly TK would be happy curling up in a hotel all day tomorrow instead of seeing anymore of this city.  There were just so many places that were tainted with bad things.  His high school was where he had found pills in the first place and it had been the place he dealt with his dad getting divorced for the second time.  The firehouse had been great to visit to see his old team, but then it reminded him of Alex which still did funny things to his insides.  They had visited with his mom and that had been alright, but they were practically strangers at this point after so many years.  It was good to see her, but there had always been a reason TK had chosen to stay with his dad despite his crazy hours at the firestation.  His mom meant well but she was overbearing and a little self absorbed.  TK never felt at home around her the way he did with his dad or with Carlos.  

“You look exhausted,” Carlos observed over their table at the back of the bar.  This bar had too many memories, but also some of the best food TK had ever eaten in his life.  He had been craving pizza from this place since they had left for Austin.  He had come here almost every weekend during the fire academy with his friends.  He had even gotten an enthusiastic hug from the owner upon walking in.  Carlos had looked surprised but TK had merely shrugged and chatted amicably.  

“It’s nice being home, but it’s a lot,” TK told him as he finally slowed down devouring his pizza.  “I’m glad you got to meet my mom.  I don’t see her much, but she means well.”

“She was nice,’ Carlos said awkwardly which made TK laugh.  Carlos was nice almost to a fault.   

“She is a total bitch,” TK shook his head while chuckling.  “It’s kind of what I love about her.  She isn’t the most nurturing woman, but she reminds me of home the most.  She was a fun mom to have growing up a lot of the time.  She was the one who joined me jumping in the sprinklers when I was little.  She’d  skate around in our socks on a lazy Saturday morning.  We had some good times before she left.”

“Was it hard when your dad remarried?” Carlos asked curiously.  “Are we not meeting your dad’s second wife?”

“Fuck no,” TK said quickly and definitively.  “I will never talk to Lauren again if I can help it.  That woman nearly destroyed me when I was seventeen.  She’s the bitch that threatened me with conversion therapy when she found out I was gay.  She ended up leaving when my dad told her that absolutely wasn’t an option.  She was mean and abusive and just awful.”

“God, that’s awful,” Carlos said quietly and TK blushed when he realized how vehemently he had answered that question.  His high school years had been complicated and he had hurt a lot of people not least of all himself during those years.  Lauren had been a nightmare back then and TK was happy to never have to see her again.  

“Like I said, being here is complicated.” TK said quietly as he took another large bite of his pizza.  Carlos reached over to squeeze his hand in understanding and they were silent for a few minutes.  TK was just starting to relax when the door opened and the last person he wanted to see came through the door.  Alex was in the doorway with who he figured was Mitchell from spin class.  He was about TK’s height with blonde hair and blue eyes.  It was bad enough that the thought of Alex made his stomach knot up, but seeing him made his entire body freeze.  Alex had turned him into a shell of himself while they had been together and he had been too blindly in love to realize.  Alex had broken him and driven him to OD when he hadn’t touched pills in years.  He loved Carlos, but his heart still screamed for the pain to be felt when Alex was right in front of him.  It was like his heart was totally separate from his head and it was hard to tell his heart it couldn’t love someone anymore.  

“What’s wrong?” Carlos had noticed his change in posture and looked concerned.  “What’s going on?”  

“Alex is here,’ TK said as he closed his eyes tightly and tried to fight the mixture of longing and hurt and anger that was washing over him.  

“Your ex?  In this bar?” Carlos whirled around to look for himself.  

“He’s the one that introduced me to this place,’ TK said numbly as his body still tried to decide how he wanted to react.  Part of him wanted to burst into confused and hurt tears while another part of him longed to march up to Alex and tell him exactly what kind of hell he had been through this year because of him.  “He took me here on our first date.”

“Do you want to go?  I’ll pay our tab and we can go, okay?” Carlos put a hand on his before digging out his wallet and heading to the bar to pay their tab and for their food.  TK sat there and somehow knew Alex was going to come speak to him.  They had always been stupidly drawn to each other.  TK shouldn’t be surprised since he was drawn to everything that would destroy him.  

“TK?” Alex’s voice reached him and TK only wanted Carlos to be here.  He couldn’t be alone with this man, not now.  “Is that really you?”

“Hey Alex,” TK forced himself to open his eyes and those dark eyes looked so damn happy that it made him sick.  Alex didn’t get to look at him like that anymore.  That job was for Carlos and Carlos alone.  

“What happened to you?  I haven’t seen you since…” Alex trailed off, apparently unable to say since he had broken TK into indistinguishable pieces.  

“I moved,” TK said shortly and tried to see around Alex’s tall figure to find his boyfriend.  He really wanted to go back to their hotel now and sleep for a year.  

“You did always like to run away from your problems like a little boy,” Alex sneered at him with a shake of his head.  

“TK,” Carlos appeared at just the right moment and TK stood quickly.  He wanted out of here and he wanted out now.  

“Who is this?” Alex had to ask snidely.  “Did you find yourself another sorry soul to take care of you TK?”

“I’d watch what you say about my boyfriend,” Carlos said in a deep voice that sent shivers down TK’s spine.  

“We need to go,” TK said as he tugged Carlos toward the door.  “We really need to go.”

“You don’t want to have drinks with us?” Alex offered as he gestured to the man he had walked in with.  “First round can be on me.  Mitchell would be...interested to meet you.”

“Like I want to be anywhere near you,” TK spat at him as the anger won for the moment.  

“What?  We can’t be civil Tyler?” Alex knew TK hated to be called that by him and he only ever used it in a derogatory way.  

“It’s okay baby,” Carlos said to him lowly as he took charge and finally got them past Alex and out onto the street.  TK was shaking badly as Carlos got them a cab and gave directions for a hotel.  They collapsed onto the backseat and TK huddled into himself for the short ride to their hotel with his mind racing.  He hated that Alex could still get such a strong reaction to him.  He really hoped Carlos didn’t take his tears the wrong way to mean something they didn’t.  His emotions were tangled up in a mess and crying was the only way he could let them out.  He didn’t want Alex back and he didn’t love him.  He only loved Carlos.  It was just hard seeing someone who had once been your entire world with someone else. 

“I don’t love him,” TK sobbed out the minute the two of them were alone in their room.  He collapsed on the end of their bed and wished his body would just stop reacting so damn much.  

“I know that,” Carlos said quietly and patiently.  His boyfriend came to kneel in front of him with a plastic glass of water the hotel had supplied them with.  “Try to drink some water for me, okay?”

“Don’t be mad,” TK begged softly instead of drinking the water as he wiped at his eyes.

“I’m not mad at all, Tiger,” Carlos told him gently as he took his hand.  “Today has been a lot for you.”

“Seeing him is weird,” TK tried to explain even if it made the tears come faster.  “He controlled my entire world outside of my job.  He forced me to get clean when we got together and everyone thought it was such a good thing.  Then he controlled where we went and who I spoke to.  I let myself fall for him and focused solely on him and being without him was so overwhelming that I OD’ed and thought I couldn’t live without him.   It was so unhealthy what I felt for him, but it’s like my body is conditioned and I just can’t react to him normally when he had the guy he cheated on me with there and expected me to have drinks-”

“Take a breath, okay?” Carlos stayed in front of him and TK felt so incredibly stupid crying like this in front of him.  “I’m not upset with you at all.  You’ve been feeling a lot of things all day and you’re tired and Alex was just one thing too much.”

“Can you hold me?” TK asked shyly, knowing that’s what he needed.  He needed Carlos all around him to protect him and ground him to the here and now so his mind wouldn’t wander to days past.  “I just… I need you.”

“You don’t have to ask, baby,” Carlos told him as he leaned forward to kiss him gently.  The tears were slowing and with every touch TK could feel his body settling down again.  Carlos slowly unbuttoned TK’s shirt before gently taking it off his shoulders and tossing it to an extra chair.  He took both of TK’s hands and pulled him gently to stand.  Gentle hands ran down his body to his belt to undo the buckle before the button and zipper followed.  TK had never had someone undress him so intimately before and the care nearly brought him to tears again.  Carlos undressed him completely and got him under the covers before quickly taking off his own clothes and following suit.  The room was dark, the blankets were warm, and Carlos was completely surrounding him with his warm arms and firm chest.  

“I never thought I would love again,” TK said softly after some quiet minutes had gone by.  He placed a kiss to the underside of Carlos’s jaw.  “I never thought anyone else would ever want me, would ever love me.  You’ve taught me what a relationship is supposed to be.  You’ve taught me what love is Carlos, and I can never thank you enough.”

“What he did to you does not make you unlovable in any way,” Carlos told him with a kiss to his head as his large hands drew slow, soothing circles on his back.  “He manipulated you, controlled you, and hurt you.  None of that was your fault in any way.  You’re safe here with me.”

TK silently snuggled into Carlos’s chest and felt his eyes grow heavy.  Carlos put the TV on low to some game show they could both zone out to.  It had been fun enough to show Carlos his home and all his old stomping grounds, but he knew Austin would always be home for the both of them. 

[skywailer]

An Honest Communication

I’ll start this off with a feeling.  

Your throat is tight, something caught and building in the pipes.  You cannot breathe from holding it back.  Like vomit, you voluntarily choke on it to keep it in, to keep up the appearance you are fine, and to keep everyone else comfortable.  You rush to a trash can or a toilet or a sink; knowing if you don’t let it out there, you’ll let it out anywhere.  You purge yourself, and pray no one was around to see you like that.  To see the purge happen.  And if there was someone who even saw your face in the moment of realizing you were about to throw up, if there was even a chance of someone seeing you that vulnerable and afraid of showing a less than appealing side of yourself… you are the one filled with shame.  You are the one apologizing and making amends to others; meanwhile, they assure you you don’t have to do that, you don’t have to apologize for something natural.  Still… would they look at you differently had you let that ugly part of yourself out right there and then, in front of them?

There are people you trust so fully you know they would do everything to make you feel better.  They would hold your hair and body back as you throw up, to keep that poison you’re getting rid of from ever touching you again.  But then there are others who would stare, in shock or disgust or confusion.  They would either be unwilling to help, unable to, or unsure of how.  And maybe they would ask if you’re okay, and you would apologize, but does anyone mean it in the moment?  Or is it just you and them playing out your roles to keep what everyone’s really feeling tightly locked up- like the vomit you tried to hold back. It is unnatural to keep something in when it is poisoning you.  Your body does everything in its power to get rid of it for your survival.  There are all forms of bodily ejections meant to keep the good stuff in and the bad stuff out. And we do a lot to keep those ejections hidden from others: bathrooms with closed doors (which, I’ll be honest, relieves a lot of stress for myself personally), paper bags for vomit, tissues for snot and tears, a pillow for when you need to scream.  And if all else fails, your own hand to hide where it hurts.

I will not be doing much of that anymore.  Sure, I’ll still use a toilet with the door closed because, well, I like that door being closed.  But now I won’t be shying away from communal showers.  If I cry and there is not a tissue available to wipe it away, I will not use my hand.  I will not muffle my pain; unless someone is sleeping, because if I’ve learned anything these past two weeks is: sleep is vital.  I will not choke on my own vomit.

I have done all of those things in the past, and I have always put up well fortified steel walls between myself and those around me.  All in an attempt to keep anyone from fully seeing me, to prevent trust from ever fully forming, and to keep myself protected from physical and mental assaults.  I did this for the same reason I hold my mouth shut when I’m about to throw up: because I believe everyone around me will look at me differently once I let the ugly part of myself out right there and then.  They will look at me, see something they do not want to see, and leave.  

So, I preemptively leave first.  First mentally, and then physically.  My communication skills are at a rating of zero stars out of five, because I don’t think it is worth it.  Communication is an inconvenience to both parties because, in my eyes, life is a farce and everyone is playing a part.  Friendship is a character trait that can be easily scratched out with a swipe of a pen.   

Unfortunately, I instinctively wrote that in the present tense, because I’m not fully sure I can trust myself to break out of this behavior.  However, I am trying.  I’m trying by not being the one who leaves first.  I’m staying to open my mouth and let the ugly part of myself out right here and now, so we can look at each other and see something we might not want to see and make the choice to leave.

So, here it is: My mother physically and mentally abused me throughout my childhood.  For the first few years of my life, I believed my mother and father and family loved me because that is what they showed me.  My mother adored me.  My father visited whenever he could, as he was still in service to the military and had only a few chances to come to Florida and see me.  My family was supportive of my mother and helped her, and me, to make it feel like even if I didn’t have a “nuclear” family… I had what I needed.  However, what I believed changed when my mother and I moved into a new home together.  For a while, it was much the same: everyone was loving, everyone was supportive.  My father did not visit anymore, but only because (as I believed and was told at the time) he and my mother were no longer together and he was stationed in California.  He still sent me letters and gifts.  My aunts and grandparents still visited me, we had holidays and birthdays together, everything felt the same even though things were changing.

Then, the abuse began.  It started little.  Hits to the bottom (like some parents do- a spanking, right?  Normal), then belts or sticks or spoons or shoes or anything else she could grab.  Then my body had bruises in places disguised by clothing.  My body knew the shape and depth of the stairs because I had been pulled down them step by step.  I knew the smoothness of tile and the nasty grit between them as I lay on them and tried to stifle my screams and cries while my mother told me to shut up.  All the while, I hoped someone heard.  We lived in a townhouse, our walls were our neighbors walls, so how did no one hear?  I began to believe they did not care to hear.  Because it was ugly.  I began to believe I deserved what was happening to me, or at least my mother believed I did… because otherwise, how could this be happening?  She was (and still is) such a loving teacher.  She used to be so loving towards me.  Her family cared for her.  They would never do something like this to her.  No one ever told me my mother was bad, or that my mother had reasons, so it had to be me.  I was the one who was alone and deserving of abuse.

Eventually, the physical abuse waned.  I still feared it, until the moment I left home for university, because I had been shown: whatever you think is the truth, it is not.  The mental abuse stayed on through my teen years, and made me feel like whatever I did was worthless.  Good grades meant nothing.  I was told I was a pathological liar (and for a time I was).  I was never allowed to go to sleepovers, or to go out with my friends, or to date, no cell phones, and eventually she cut off ties with the entire family.  A hostile environment was nurtured in my mind:  

“Don’t trust anyone.”

“Even your mother doesn’t want you around those people.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to tell the truth.”

“Would they even do anything?”

I told no one the full extent of what was going on with me.  Partly because my mother threatened me, if I ever told, I would be ripped from my family and sent to strangers who definitely would not love me.  Partly because my mother informed me, if I told, no one would believe me.  So even after the physical abuse stopped, I did not have a foundation of even a brick of trust to stand on.   Even when my mother did something to rehabilitate the relationship she had single-handedly destroyed between us (like get me a dog because I was alone, and another dog because I was feeling pain after getting some teeth removed, taking me on trips because I loved to travel), I could not trust it.  I felt she was doing it to ease her own guilt.  To this day, a part of me still doubts her attempts to rehabilitate our relationship.  However, at least now I am honest with her.  

For years, I cut communications with so many people because I was tired and angry and frustrated.  I was all these things towards pretending, towards keeping up the pretense of trust and full friendship and happiness.  If people reached out, my responses only lasted as long as their hand was reaching for mine.  And even then, sometimes I would not even read messages from family or friends or pick up when they called.  I was too tired and too angry and too frustrated.  Now, I’m just tired.  

I’ve been suffering from insomnia for two weeks and only now have the ability to write this because I have sleeping pills that allowed me to get a full 8-hours of sleep last night.  Before getting that sleep and being able to write this down, and instead of being silent and harboring self-doubt and distrust in others, I used my insomnia to be productive.  I reached out to my biological family and to my friends, and told them about my abuse and about why I did not communicate with them about it or about anything at all.  I talked to them since my brain would not sleep until I did.  I have since discovered a lot about myself and about those around me.

My family has a history of abuse.  My mother learned her strategies of physical and mental abuse from her own father and mother.  My aunts were witness to this abuse and at times were subject to the abuse as well, but it is clear my mother was the target child.  As I was, since I was the only child- though, even when we had foster kids, I was the one who received the brunt of the abuse.  No one in the family decided it was important for me to know this history, and I only suspected most of the story because I have recognized that behavior is a pattern developed over time and learned from somewhere else.  Hurt and anger echo.  

My grandparents were abused.  They abused my mother and my aunts.  My mother abused me.  I used to abuse my own dog, Storm.  My grandfather was an alcoholic and went for help, and did everything in his power to be a better person to the point that he was my father figure.  My mother gave him to me as my father figure, and he was always coming over to help fix any little thing in my mother’s house and he was always trying to find ways to make me laugh and make me happy without ever knowing what was making me sad.  He passed away with my love, and with my aunts’ and my mother’s forgiveness.  My mother Rosa has done everything in her power to become a better person, like her father before her, and she has my love and my forgiveness.  My aunt Rocio has done everything in her power to tell me everything she knows about our family so I can figure out who I can trust and who I can forgive, and for that she has my love and forgiveness for not telling me what I should have always known about our family.  I hope to believe that I did everything in my power to show Storm that I was so sorry, and that I loved him, and that to this day it hurts me so deeply to know I was not there with him in his last moments.  I know he wanted me there, and I should have been there.  But I did not want to go back home to my mother, and I was not informed of his death until a month after it happened.  I hope he was at peace when he died, and my mother has since told me that he was surrounded by love.  But it will always be on my mind and in my heart that I was not with him.  But that is my burden to carry.

My family history should not have been my burden to carry.

I also reached out to everyone in my family to see if anyone knew what was going on with me, and to see who I could trust enough to speak honestly with about our family issues with communication and abuse.  I trust my father (who I am reconciling with), my mother, my aunt Rocio, and my grandfather (who I know is in heaven, if there is a heaven).  I cannot trust my grandmother or my aunt Margarita.  My grandmother took it upon herself to block me and Rocio on Facebook, to inform Margarita that she had deleted her Facebook (when I had my friend, Hollie, check on hers and verify that yes, my own grandmother had blocked me on Facebook and still existed).  She then actually deleted her Facebook the next day.  Her intentions on doing so, I will not say with full confidence because as I’ve already learned: whatever you think is the truth, it may not be until communication is had.  However, she has made it impossible for me to contact her for that communication.  I cannot trust her.  She does not trust me.  And as for my aunt Margarita, she began to yell at me on the phone when I brought up grandmother had blocked me on Facebook, and I had to hang up on her to keep the conversation a conversation.  Not a fight.  She has not blocked me on Whatsapp, but she has not reached out either after I apologized and gave her space.  So, I know who my blood family is and who my true family is.  For now.  Everyone has their bad and good coping mechanisms, and they must identify and heal from it on their own.  I am trying to heal and have identified my bad and my good coping mechanisms.

The bad: I lie to protect myself and to protect those around me.  I can manipulate a situation in order to protect myself and to protect those around me.  I shut down communication when I feel negative emotion either from myself or from the other person.  I push people away physically and/or emotionally when I feel like I am beginning to trust or love them.  I prefer to stay at home in my bed and sleep than pretend to be happy to the outside world.  I have, in the past, lashed out physically when I was in extreme pain or anger, even lashing out at those I love- like my dogs Storm and Rain and Thunder though Storm, I know now, was my target child.  I still, to this moment, vow to never be a mother because I do not trust myself to fully break the cycle of abuse. 

The good: Writing is therapeutic for me.  Before I ever let the truth out for myself by myself, I wrote it into my characters and allowed them to find happiness and love through it all.  I listen to and sing along to music to get through emotions I verbally will not express are my own.  Lewis Capaldi and Matt Maeson specifically are my spirit singers.  I love to act because it gives me a safe space to process my own emotions and to work through others’ emotions in an honest way without feeling like I, myself, have been exposed.  I gravitate towards colors that make me happy, and designs in home and photoshop that bring out happiness in me.  I take photos of things I want to remember and moments that bring me joy.  I clearly want to express myself, and find every way I can.  I teach children to be better people than those before them, to healthily express their emotions in ways that do not hurt others but allows them to process their own hurt.  I ask for and give hugs more often now, for my children and friends and for myself as well, to show them there is love and trust to be had and as a test for myself to make sure I, too, am worthy of that love and trust.  I speak the truth so I know the truth of others and of myself.  So that others may be given the chance to know their truth and heal as well.

As I started this, I will end it.  With a feeling.

Your throat is tight, something caught and building in the pipes.  You can’t breathe from holding it back. 

Don’t hold it back.  Let it out.  

Breathe.

[champignehq]

THE KINGMAKER

full name: ANNALISE COLLETE GUERRA ( maiden name DELACROIX ) birthday & age: february 13th, aged FIFTY-SEVEN pronouns: SHE/HER sexuality: BISEXUAL occupation: BUSINESS TYCOON / BOOKKEEPER for the mafia district: BOIS DE ROSE MANOR in CRYSTALVALE lives with: THE DAUNTLESS & children resident for: THEIR ENTIRE LIFE affiliation: BABINEAUX MAFIA / HIGH SOCIETY — ORIGINAL FAMILY positives: sangfroid, dutiful,  articulate negatives: stubborn, slightly haunted, private faceclaim: MICHELLE PFEIFFER

[ triggers: death tw, murder tw,  ]

YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND THEIR STORY …

THE PAST

no two closer siblings ever existed within the delacroix family than did THE KINGMAKER and THE INIQUITOUS. they were like two sides of the same coin and nobody dared to separate them. she was the light to the darkness he carried and there was nobody they trusted more than each other. their bond was even known to make their siblings jealous as nobody else shared what they did. they were special and they received an ample amount of attention from their parents almost as if to emphasis this.

though it became clear early on that THE KINGMAKER didn’t share her brother’s enthusiasm for the family business. of course, she liked all the wonderfully luxurious things it could afford them and she never protested aloud to the heinous crimes committed by her own family, but she was less than willing to get her own hands dirty for the sake of the delacroix family.

she knew better than anyone the plans THE INIQUITOUS had for the babineaux as she’d been listening to him talk about it for many years and she truly believed he could do all the things their father had hoped. they all knew THE TRICKSTER would get his day in the sun first, but none of them had faith his reign would last, not like their father’s before him. and when the time did indeed come and THE TRICKSTER decided to pass on the mantel prematurely, they were taken by surprise with his choice; THE LEADER.

THE KINGMAKER could sense the distance growing between them as soon as it happened, feel him pulling away from her and purposefully keeping her in the dark. a place she’d never liked to be. his erratic, suspicious behavior wasn’t something she was willing to stand by idly and allow to continue so after a few months of snooping and following her brother she uncovered a nefarious scheme that would end her younger brother’s life and destroy her family forever. unwilling to let her own other half ruin their family so completely, THE KINGMAKER did all she could and went to her other brothers with the information.

it’s thanks to the eldest delacroix daughter that the BABINEAUX MAFIA still exists and thrives in the fair coastal city. though she’s never been able to forget the price she had to pay to do it.

THE PRESENT

now, annalise has four children who she would do anything for, and she’s always stressed one thing to them, above all: stay loyal to each other. protect each other. even from the rest of the family.

maybe this importance comes from THE INIQUITOUS’ betrayal; maybe it comes from her own; maybe it comes from both. either way, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that her life has been shaped, for better or for worse, by her decision to save her younger brother and the babineaux organization. she thinks it’s for better, even though she’s haunted by the ghost of her twin, in memories and the blank space by her side where he should be. after all, she wouldn’t have had the life she has if THE INIQUITOUS had succeeded, and she can’t complain about the position she’s in. her children are strong, her marriage is happy, and she has her brothers in her debt.

she loves them, she does - THE TRICKSTER, THE LEADER, THE LAWLESS all - and she knows they trust her like she trusts them, but bargaining chips are still useful, are they not? and being the reason the mafia is still around…the extra power isn’t worth the price; it’s dirty, stained with her own twin’s blood, her best friend’s blood, and she hates it, but she has it. she has it. kingmaker and kingslayer aren’t too far off, she supposes. maybe the latter is more accurate than the former.

THE INIQUITOUS would have been great if he’d been given power. but they got THE LEADER instead, and anna loves her brother, believes in him, and so she does not complain, does not stir up ghosts while others are around, does not think about what-ifs. she did her duty to her family. she will have to live with that. she will also make sure that none of her children are forced to do the same. she wouldn’t wish that burden on anyone.

                                CONNECTIONS

THE LEADER, THE TRICKERSTER, & THE LAWLESS — her brothers who to this day believe they are eternally indebted to their eldest sister as the mafia wouldn’t still be around today if it weren’t for the action she’d taken against her own twin.

THE CATALYST & THE NURTURER — her younger sisters. those in her family she is closest with after losing her other half.

THE DAUNTLESS — her husband. the marriage was more or less arranged by their fathers, but anyone who saw them would never have been able to guess it. almost as if they were a match made in heaven.

THE INTELLECT, THE ALTRUISTIC, THE ENIGMA, & THE DAMSEL — her children. they are without a doubt her pride and joy and THE KINGMAKER is rather eager to see them climb the ranks of the mafia but more importantly to see them protect each other, even against their own family if they need to.

THE OUTCAST — her new bodyguard and by far the youngest bodyguard she’s ever had assigned to her. from the NOYER family and cousin to THE ACE, nobody really knows why he’s suddenly been sent to champigné and joined the ranks of the BABINEAUX, but THE LEADER wasn’t going to turn down another soldier for the upcoming war. though THE KINGMAKER has sensed there’s something quite off about him, she just has yet to place it. 

THE TACTICIAN — former best friend. THE TACTICIAN grew up alongside the delacroix siblings but was especially close with the twins, closer than most outside the family. he stood behind THE INIQUITOUS and believed whole-heartedly it should have been him to wear the metaphorical crown, and nearly lost his life while making that opinion known. ever since THE INIQUITOUS’ death, things between THE TACTICIAN and THE KINGMAKER have been different—and how could it not be when he’s there as a constant reminder of the betrayal.

THE PANJANDRUM — good friend. THE PANJANDRUM only just moved to champigné but the two hit it off at a High Society event and became quick friends.

CONSEIL DE SOUTIEN — originally composed of the remaining six Delacroix children: THE TRICKSTER, THE KINGMAKER, THE LEADER, THE CATALYST, THE NURTURER, THE NARC, & THE LAWLESS. they formed the council after THEINIQUITOUS’ failed coup, to protect themselves and their heirs from any future lapse in judgment their family might have. and thankfully they did, as it helped bring to light THE NARC’s guilty conscious and plan to spoil everything for the family; which they swiftly put an end to in 2014. ever since its been smooth sailing in terms of internal unrest thanks to the council.

the role of  THE KINGMAKER is taken by AMALIA

[kaimaciel]

My Favorite Books of 2018

The Archived  by Victoria Schwab

“Each body has a story to tell, a life seen in pictures only Librarians can read. The dead are called Histories, and the vast realm in which they rest is the Archive. Da first brought Mackenzie Bishop here four years ago, when she was twelve years old, frightened but determined to prove herself. Now Da is dead, and Mac has grown into what he once was: a ruthless Keeper, tasked with stopping often violent Histories from waking up and getting out. Because of her job, she lies to the people she loves, and she knows fear for what it is: a useful tool for staying alive. Being a Keeper isn't just dangerous—it's a constant reminder of those Mac has lost, Da's death was hard enough, but now that her little brother is gone too, Mac starts to wonder about the boundary between living and dying, sleeping and waking. In the Archive, the dead must never be disturbed. And yet, someone is deliberately altering Histories, erasing essential chapters. Unless Mac can piece together what remains, the Archive itself may crumble and fall.”

The Death of Mrs. Westaway by Ruth Ware

“On a day that begins like any other, Hal receives a mysterious letter bequeathing her a substantial inheritance. She realizes very quickly that the letter was sent to the wrong person—but also that the cold-reading skills she’s honed as a tarot card reader might help her claim the money. Soon, Hal finds herself at the funeral of the deceased…where it dawns on her that there is something very, very wrong about this strange situation and the inheritance at the center of it.”

Still Me (Me Before You #3) by Jojo Moyes

“Louisa Clark arrives in New York ready to start a new life, confident that she can embrace this new adventure and keep her relationship with Ambulance Sam alive across several thousand miles. She steps into the world of the superrich, working for Leonard Gopnik and his much younger second wife, Agnes. Lou is determined to get the most out of the experience and throws herself into her new job and New York life. As she begins to mix in New York high society, Lou meets Joshua Ryan, a man who brings with him a whisper of her past. Before long, Lou finds herself torn between Fifth Avenue where she works and the treasure-filled vintage clothing store where she actually feels at home. And when matters come to a head, she has to ask herself: Who is Louisa Clark? And how do you find the courage to follow your heart—wherever that may lead?”

Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty

“Could ten days at a health resort really change you forever? In Liane Moriarty’s latest page-turner, nine perfect strangers are about to find out... Nine people gather at a remote health resort. Some are here to lose weight, some are here to get a reboot on life, some are here for reasons they can’t even admit to themselves. Amidst all of the luxury and pampering, the mindfulness and meditation, they know these ten days might involve some real work. But none of them could imagine just how challenging the next ten days are going to be. Frances Welty, the formerly best-selling romantic novelist, arrives at Tranquillum House nursing a bad back, a broken heart, and an exquisitely painful paper cut. She’s immediately intrigued by her fellow guests. Most of them don’t look to be in need of a health resort at all. But the person that intrigues her most is the strange and charismatic owner/director of Tranquillum House. Could this person really have the answers Frances didn’t even know she was seeking? Should Frances put aside her doubts and immerse herself in everything Tranquillum House has to offer – or should she run while she still can? It’s not long before every guest at Tranquillum House is asking exactly the same question.”

A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

“On 21 June 1922 Count Alexander Rostov – recipient of the Order of Saint Andrew, member of the Jockey Club, Master of the Hunt – is escorted out of the Kremlin, across Red Square and through the elegant revolving doors of the Hotel Metropol. But instead of being taken to his usual suite, he is led to an attic room with a window the size of a chessboard. Deemed an unrepentant aristocrat by a Bolshevik tribunal, the Count has been sentenced to house arrest indefinitely. While Russia undergoes decades of tumultuous upheaval, the Count, stripped of the trappings that defined his life, is forced to question what makes us who we are. And with the assistance of a glamorous actress, a cantankerous chef and a very serious child, Rostov unexpectedly discovers a new understanding of both pleasure and purpose.”

Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1) by Ashley Poston

“Seventeen-year-old Ana is a scoundrel by nurture and an outlaw by nature. Found as a child drifting through space with a sentient android called D09, Ana was saved by a fearsome space captain and the grizzled crew she now calls family. But D09—one of the last remaining illegal Metals—has been glitching, and Ana will stop at nothing to find a way to fix him. Ana’s desperate effort to save D09 leads her on a quest to steal the coordinates to a lost ship that could offer all the answers. But at the last moment, a spoiled Ironblood boy beats Ana to her prize. He has his own reasons for taking the coordinates, and he doesn’t care what he’ll sacrifice to keep them. When everything goes wrong, she and the Ironblood end up as fugitives on the run. Now their entire kingdom is after them—and the coordinates—and not everyone wants them captured alive. What they find in a lost corner of the universe will change all their lives—and unearth dangerous secrets. But when a darkness from Ana’s past returns, she must face an impossible choice: does she protect a kingdom that wants her dead or save the Metal boy she loves?”

Our Dark Duet (Monsters of Verity #2) by Victoria Schwab

“THE WORLD IS BREAKING. AND SO ARE THEY. KATE HARKER isn't afraid of monsters. She hunts them. And she's good at it. AUGUST FLYNN once yearned to be human. He has a part to play. And he will play it, no matter the cost. THE WAR HAS BEGUN. THE MONSTERS ARE WINNING. Kate will have to return to Verity. August will have to let her back in. And a new monster is waiting—one that feeds on chaos and brings out its victims' inner demons. Which will be harder to conquer: the monsters they face, or the monsters within?”

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.” Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life. Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood. The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her. But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.”

Far from the Tree by Robin Benway

“A contemporary novel about three adopted siblings who find each other at just the right moment. Being the middle child has its ups and downs. But for Grace, an only child who was adopted at birth, discovering that she is a middle child is a different ride altogether. After putting her own baby up for adoption, she goes looking for her biological family, including— Maya, her loudmouthed younger bio sister, who has a lot to say about their newfound family ties. Having grown up the snarky brunette in a house full of chipper redheads, she’s quick to search for traces of herself among these not-quite-strangers. And when her adopted family’s long-buried problems begin to explode to the surface, Maya can’t help but wonder where exactly it is that she belongs. And Joaquin, their stoic older bio brother, who has no interest in bonding over their shared biological mother. After seventeen years in the foster care system, he’s learned that there are no heroes, and secrets and fears are best kept close to the vest, where they can’t hurt anyone but him.”

Obsidio (The Illuminae Files #3) by Amie Kaufman, Jay Kristoff

“Kady, Ezra, Hanna, and Nik narrowly escaped with their lives from the attacks on Heimdall station and now find themselves crammed with 2,000 refugees on the container ship, Mao. With the jump station destroyed and their resources scarce, the only option is to return to Kerenza—but who knows what they'll find seven months after the invasion? Meanwhile, Kady's cousin, Asha, survived the initial BeiTech assault and has joined Kerenza's ragtag underground resistance. When Rhys—an old flame from Asha's past—reappears on Kerenza, the two find themselves on opposite sides of the conflict. With time running out, a final battle will be waged on land and in space, heroes will fall, and hearts will be broken.”

The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager

“Two Truths and a Lie. The girls played it all the time in their tiny cabin at Camp Nightingale. Vivian, Natalie, Allison, and first-time camper Emma Davis, the youngest of the group. The games ended when Emma sleepily watched the others sneak out of the cabin in the dead of night. The last she--or anyone--saw of them was Vivian closing the cabin door behind her, hushing Emma with a finger pressed to her lips. Now a rising star in the New York art scene, Emma turns her past into paintings--massive canvases filled with dark leaves and gnarled branches that cover ghostly shapes in white dresses. The paintings catch the attention of Francesca Harris-White, the socialite and wealthy owner of Camp Nightingale. When Francesca implores her to return to the newly reopened camp as a painting instructor, Emma sees an opportunity to try to find out what really happened to her friends. Yet it's immediately clear that all is not right at Camp Nightingale. Already haunted by memories from fifteen years ago, Emma discovers a security camera pointed directly at her cabin, mounting mistrust from Francesca and, most disturbing of all, cryptic clues Vivian left behind about the camp's twisted origins. As she digs deeper, Emma finds herself sorting through lies from the past while facing threats from both man and nature in the present. And the closer she gets to the truth about Camp Nightingale, the more she realizes it may come at a deadly price.”

[sweetness-of-faith]

سورة العنكبوت

أعوذ بالله من الشيطان الرجيم

وَإِبْرَاهِيمَ إِذْ قَالَ لِقَوْمِهِ اعْبُدُوا اللَّهَ وَاتَّقُوهُ ۖ ذَٰلِكُمْ خَيْرٌ لَكُمْ إِنْ كُنْتُمْ تَعْلَمُونَ * إِنَّمَا تَعْبُدُونَ مِنْ دُونِ اللَّهِ أَوْثَانًا وَتَخْلُقُونَ إِفْكًا ۚ إِنَّ الَّذِينَ تَعْبُدُونَ مِنْ دُونِ اللَّهِ لَا يَمْلِكُونَ لَكُمْ رِزْقًا فَابْتَغُوا عِنْدَ اللَّهِ الرِّزْقَ وَاعْبُدُوهُ وَاشْكُرُوا لَهُ ۖ إِلَيْهِ تُرْجَعُونَ

وَإِنْ تُكَذِّبُوا فَقَدْ كَذَّبَ أُمَمٌ مِنْ قَبْلِكُمْ ۖ وَمَا عَلَى الرَّسُولِ إِلَّا الْبَلَاغُ الْمُبِينُ * أَوَلَمْ يَرَوْا كَيْفَ يُبْدِئُ اللَّهُ الْخَلْقَ ثُمَّ يُعِيدُهُ �� إِنَّ ذَٰلِكَ عَلَى اللَّهِ يَسِيرٌ * قُلْ سِيرُوا فِي الْأَرْضِ فَانْظُرُوا كَيْفَ بَدَأَ الْخَلْقَ ۚ ثُمَّ اللَّهُ يُنْشِئُ النَّشْأَةَ الْآخِرَةَ ۚ إِنَّ اللَّهَ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَيْءٍ قَدِيرٌ

يُعَذِّبُ مَنْ يَشَاءُ وَيَرْحَمُ مَنْ يَشَاءُ ۖ وَإِلَيْهِ تُقْلَبُونَ * وَمَا أَنْتُمْ بِمُعْجِزِينَ فِي الْأَرْضِ وَلَا فِي السَّمَاءِ ۖ وَمَا لَكُمْ مِنْ دُونِ اللَّهِ مِنْ وَلِيٍّ وَلَا نَصِيرٍ * وَالَّذِينَ كَفَرُوا بِآيَاتِ اللَّهِ وَلِقَائِهِ أُولَٰئِكَ يَئِسُوا مِنْ رَحْمَتِي وَأُولَٰئِكَ لَهُمْ عَذَابٌ أَلِيمٌ

فَمَا كَانَ جَوَابَ قَوْمِهِ إِلَّا أَنْ قَالُوا اقْتُلُوهُ أَوْ حَرِّقُوهُ فَأَنْجَاهُ اللَّهُ مِنَ النَّارِ ۚ إِنَّ فِي ذَٰلِكَ لَآيَاتٍ لِقَوْمٍ يُؤْمِنُونَ * وَقَالَ إِنَّمَا اتَّخَذْتُمْ مِنْ دُونِ اللَّهِ أَوْثَانًا مَوَدَّةَ بَيْنِكُمْ فِي الْحَيَاةِ الدُّنْيَا ۖ ثُمَّ يَوْمَ الْقِيَامَةِ يَكْفُرُ بَعْضُكُمْ بِبَعْضٍ وَيَلْعَنُ بَعْضُكُمْ بَعْضًا وَمَأْوَاكُمُ النَّارُ وَمَا لَكُمْ مِنْ نَاصِرِينَ

فَآمَنَ لَهُ لُوطٌ ۘ وَقَالَ إِنِّي مُهَاجِرٌ إِلَىٰ رَبِّي ۖ إِنَّهُ هُوَ الْعَزِيزُ الْحَكِيمُ * وَوَهَبْنَا لَهُ إِسْحَاقَ وَيَعْقُوبَ وَجَعَلْنَا فِي ذُرِّيَّتِهِ النُّبُوَّةَ وَالْكِتَابَ وَآتَيْنَاهُ أَجْرَهُ فِي الدُّنْيَا ۖ وَإِنَّهُ فِي الْآخِرَةِ لَمِنَ الصَّالِحِينَ

وَلُوطًا إِذْ قَالَ لِقَوْمِهِ إِنَّكُمْ لَتَأْتُونَ الْفَاحِشَةَ مَا سَبَقَكُمْ بِهَا مِنْ أَحَدٍ مِنَ الْعَالَمِينَ * أَئِنَّكُمْ لَتَأْتُونَ الرِّجَالَ وَتَقْطَعُونَ السَّبِيلَ وَتَأْتُونَ فِي نَادِيكُمُ الْمُنْكَرَ ۖ فَمَا كَانَ جَوَابَ قَوْمِهِ إِلَّا أَنْ قَالُوا ائْتِنَا بِعَذَابِ اللَّهِ إِنْ كُنْتَ مِنَ الصَّادِقِينَ

قَالَ رَبِّ انْصُرْنِي عَلَى الْقَوْمِ الْمُفْسِدِينَ * وَلَمَّا جَاءَتْ رُسُلُنَا إِبْرَاهِيمَ بِالْبُشْرَىٰ قَالُوا إِنَّا مُهْلِكُو أَهْلِ هَٰذِهِ الْقَرْيَةِ ۖ إِنَّ أَهْلَهَا كَانُوا ظَالِمِينَ * قَالَ إِنَّ فِيهَا لُوطًا ۚ قَالُوا نَحْنُ أَعْلَمُ بِمَنْ فِيهَا ۖ لَنُنَجِّيَنَّهُ وَأَهْلَهُ إِلَّا امْرَأَتَهُ كَانَتْ مِنَ الْغَابِرِينَ

وَلَمَّا أَنْ جَاءَتْ رُسُلُنَا لُوطًا سِيءَ بِهِمْ وَضَاقَ بِهِمْ ذَرْعًا وَقَالُوا لَا تَخَفْ وَلَا تَحْزَنْ ۖ إِنَّا مُنَجُّوكَ وَأَهْلَكَ إِلَّا امْرَأَتَكَ كَانَتْ مِنَ الْغَابِرِينَ * إِنَّا مُنْزِلُونَ عَلَىٰ أَهْلِ هَٰذِهِ الْقَرْيَةِ رِجْزًا مِنَ السَّمَاءِ بِمَا كَانُوا يَفْسُقُونَ * وَلَقَدْ تَرَكْنَا مِنْهَا آيَةً بَيِّنَةً لِقَوْمٍ يَعْقِلُونَ

سورة العنكبوت، من الآية 16 إلى 35

We also sent Abraham. He said to his people, ‘Worship Allah and be mindful of Him: that is better for you, if only you knew.

What you worship instead of Allah are mere idols; what you invent is nothing but falsehood. Those you worship instead of Allah have no power to give you provisions, so seek provisions from Allah, worship Him, and give Him thanks: you will all be returned to Him.

If you say this is a lie, [be warned that] other communities before you said the same. The messenger’s only duty is to give clear warning.’

Do they not see that Allah brings life into being and reproduces it? Truly this is easy for Allah.

Say, ‘Travel throughout the earth and see how He brings life into being: and He will bring the next life into being. Allah has power over all things.

He punishes whoever He will and shows mercy to whoever He will. You will all be returned to Him.

You cannot escape Him on earth or in the heavens; you will have no one to protect or help you besides Allah.’

Those who deny Allah’s Revelation and their meeting with Him have no hope of receiving My grace: they will have a grievous torment.

The only answer Abraham’s people gave was, ‘Kill him or burn him!’ but Allah saved him from the Fire: there truly are signs in this for people who believe.

Abraham said to them, ‘You have chosen idols instead of Allah but your love for them will only last for the present life: on the Day of Resurrection, you will disown and reject one another. Hell will be your home and no one will help you.’

Lot believed him, and said, ‘I will flee to my Nurturing Master: He is the Almighty, the All Wise.’

We gave Isaac and Jacob to Abraham, and placed prophethood and Scripture among his offspring. We gave him his rewards in this world, and in the life to come he will be among the righteous.

And Lot: when He said to his people, ‘You practise outrageous acts that no people before you have ever committed.

How can you lust after men, waylay travellers, and commit evil in your gatherings?’ the only answer his people gave was, ‘Bring Allah’s punishment down on us, if what you say is true.’

So he prayed, ‘My Master, help me against these people who spread corruption.’

When Our messengers brought the good news [of the birth of a son] to Abraham, they told him, ‘We are about to destroy the people of that town. They are wrongdoers.’

Abraham said, ‘But Lot lives there.’ They answered, ‘We know who lives there better than you do. We shall save him and his household, except for his wife: she will be one of those who stay behind.’

When Our messengers came to Lot, he was troubled and distressed on their account. They said, ‘Have no fear or grief: we shall certainly save you and your household, except for your wife– she will be one of those who stay behind– and we shall send a punishment from heaven down on the people of this town because they violate [Allah’s order].’

We left some [of the town] there as a clear sign for those who use their reason.

Quran 29:16-35

[bokunoheroaheadcanons]

A scenario with our dearest Shigaraki where s/o is a friend from long ago, who runs into him after years of thinking he was either dead or kidnapped, and the s/o is like super elated? Thank you :)

I’m gonna assume this friend of his is his s/o now but this is s flashback maybe? Mod Dabi is like… writing some kind f story or something right now lmao. Critique me if you want, never wrote this long for scenarios tbh. So here you go I dunno.

Tomura/Tenko

He remembered that he had a long childhood friend long ago. You were the one who attended to his side when he needed the most and you were the one who stood up for him when he was called degrading names. It influenced his temperate behaviors and his utterly disgusted for these false heroes who would of saved him from his damnation.

But then you entered into his life at some point to fix his loneliness. At the time, All For One took him under his wings and raised him just like a father would raise his child. Not a single abuse inflictions could ever be identified on his sickeningly skin, except those cracks embodiment into his lips and those fatigued bags under his eyes from no nurturing. Only suffering to die.

This was during the one where he was about 13 years old and All For One gave him permission to roam around the world aimlessly, but only to be weary of his own actions since drawing attention to himself would become highly perilous. It’s not the time for causing mankind such complications, yet.

Being the rebellious teenager; Tomura left the hideout where Kurogiri was suppose to be watching over the problematic child, yet the blackening caretaker mist departed from his sight to retrieve some groceries for the deficient child. Tomura disregard his strictly pleads to remain here until he returned from the store. Tch, I can take care of myself. He thought bitterly.

Black hoodies, black jeans were his attire that befitted him from attracting those pitifully hues he detested so much. And those smiling faces etching on everyone’s faces burned such hatred in his corrupting heart, why are they all smiling yet he’s the one who’s suffering inside so much? This world if full of liars. Deceiving and Disgusting. He despises them with every inch of his being, drowning into the voidness where he belongs and called a home.

His fingertips started painting with redness from scratching his throat so much; the crimson liquid trickling down his neck a little form the freshly wounds. This was his worse habit, these unnecessary feeling consuming his fragile mind every time.

Awh… how stupid of me to do… Tomura eyes narrowing as his gaze falling upon his dirtied fingertips. The teenager male sat upon on the bench in amongst of the crowds chattering away happily, so happily that it’s actually making him sick. Well, his so enough for him. He should of stayed home anyways, all these chipper giving him headache already.

“Hey… your neck is bleeding… are you okay…?” A kind voice elicited right next to him. His slender, sickeningly thinly figure hunching over whereas your body is healthier compared to his. It’s quite embarrassing, yet he doesn’t pay attention to you nearly because he’s going home.

“… What about it… I’ll be fine.” Hostilely speaking. You, however, never halted from his icily words. Nor you hesitated to pull a handkerchief form your pocket and drenched the fabric in water to sanitize the scratches. You’re so gentle with him. This is strange.

He should of rudely push your hands away, but he didn’t either. There something enticing about your gentle touches that gives serenest of feelings. He just stood there, dumbfounded.

“There.” You exchanged a genuinely smile which he never had before during his growth. It’s one of the rarest and something about you he need protect. Tomura curiously inquired for you to respond afterwards, needing to remember who you are.“…What’s your name…?

“H-huh my name…? I am Y/N.” Another smile that strangely tugged Tomura’s heart. Charming and fitting for your lovely complexion. “I see… I’ll be sure to remember that. Tomura is my name.”

Tomura bears a strongly reserved, yet antipathetic demeanor to him whenever you both would schedule a date together. You don’t know much about his childhood past, yet you decided it’s be best not to investigate on it since it’s a matter of privacy. Maybe he doesn’t have much friends because he doesn’t choose to, he is his own company. Yet you somehow persuaded into his heart, as a friend and slowly, yet surely as a love interest.

He never told you his feelings when he left unexpectedly. Neither did you.

Tomura had a goal to fulfill instead of involving himself around this new friend of his. All For One already knew these planning’s, there nothing wrong for the boy to be hanging around somebody his age yet they cannot know their truthful intentions of bringing death upon the world. And that’s why he never arrived again.

After all those years of waiting for him… it never seems to go accordingly to your expectations. There’s no Tomura waiting for you in that small cafe you both visited regularly. No trace of his existence lingering around. He isn’t here, Y/N.

Awh. The old community mall where you both met was still there. The nostalgia of surrounding himself with those smiling peasants again, and that bench you cleaned away his neck without being easily frightened by him. It’s coming together again.

Tomura heart sank underneath his chest when remembering the times you’ve spent together. You paying for his food and giving him so many luxurious he doesn’t need. You’re so kind to him, and he couldn’t confess his feelings for you.

“Y/N. I guess we won’t be seeing each other since I’ve been away.” Whispering under his breath sadly as he’s sauntering his way towards the familiar bench where you both met. Tomura was wearing his usual outfit: Black hoodie, black jeans and red shoes.

The boy hung his head low. His red eyes wandering from crowds to crowds; so many citizens that will befallen into their hands someday. The world rid of the heroes along with All Might, a dream he dreamt of for so long now.

His mind becoming dazed with thoughts of destroying the false righteous…. Tomura never realized that familiar voice was reaching to his distracting conscience. He sat there for quite awhile appearing lost in thoughts, and there you were. Completely shocked from his arrival.

Tomura.

A squeal of happiness escaped from your lips as you were clinging yourself around his thinly body tightly. A surreal dream you must be experiencing indeed. “Tomura, you’re finally here…!! You’ve forgotten the fact that he had a terrifying quirk and wasn’t used to affections. Yet, you didn’t care either. He’s here, flesh and blood.

“Y/N… it’s you.”

Gratitudes to your hugs, Tomura finally came to his senses from all those thinking. At first, he flinched from the embracing because it was unexpected around here. But as soon as he heard your familiar voice and matured features; he immediately remembered you.

He was smiling downwards at you. This was different from before, the Tomura you knew would rudely snicker to your compliments or wouldn’t much words when enveloping into your presence. Though, he is still the same. It’s the smile that sparked your heart, a smile he never shown to anyone yet.

You were wiping away your tears from your chin; it was tears of relief and happiness. You truly thought he was deceased or forever gone from your grasps.

And you only manage to say this between your hiccuping, “I thought you were gone forever, and I missed you so much. I’m so happy to see you, Tomura. Really…”

Why are you always so kind to him? Does he really deserve someone like you by his side when he’s actually one of the villains that society made him out to be? How can you miss someone like him…? How, just how? You’re literally an angel sent from above to guide him, somewhere. No idea where, but somewhere.

You both never stopped loving each other. Maybe it was meant to be this way. For you both to be reunited like this again. Tomura couldn’t shake off this thumping heart beating against his chest as he’s finally seeing you again.

That genuine smile never faltering in your eyes. Tomura threads his bony fingers through your locks; tugging the strands of hair behind your ears as his gazes fixating with yours.

” I miss you too. I’m coming back to take you with me now….“ Those words were true from his heart. He’s going to claim you as his now, and only his. This society doesn’t deserve an angel like you to be waltzing around freely. A world with you would be better when he destroys the heroes. This is his final wish to fulfill.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

There's something I have to ask you that has some of its roots far before Descendants, but seriously....wtf is up with Frollo?! I'm interested in his character because of his deep complexities for a Disney Villian (never mind the Hugo novel), but why cant he get a grip on raising children and building a healthy family? Even as a product of the medieval era , that can't be an excuse for his dysfunctional relationships with others(progressive people like Esmeralda and Phoebus existed back then 1/2

Mymain question to you is ,what do you think it is about him that cantsee the pain he causes to claudine/ not esme and the entire HONDcast? What ever happened to him in his childhood ( nature vsnurture), that makes him nearly impossible to reach past his veil ofdarkness. Even in his attempt to redeem himself in the eyes of hisLord, with Claudine, is he forever delusional? Can he change in thisuniverse and what would it take? 2/2

There’sthree key concepts that explain why Frollo still can’t redeemhimself, see the pain, the suffering, the wrongdoing he’s causingin the name of God and his ideas of what is “Good.” These are:

CognitiveDissonance

TheMyth of Redemptive Violence by Walter Wink, and

SexualSuppression in the Catholic Church, and the ideas of ReligiousLeaders being beyond the common man

Allof these are actually easily explainable using the lyrics ofHellfire:

BeataMariaYou know I am a righteous manOf my virtue I amjustly proud

BeataMariaYou know I'm so much purer thanThe common, vulgar,weak, licentious crowd

Thentell me, MariaWhy I see her dancing thereWhy hersmold'ring eyes still scorch my soulI feel her, I seeherThe sun caught in her raven hairIs blazing in me outof all control

Here,we see what Frollo thinks of himself: a saint among sinners, a man ofstrong faith in a land of unbelievers, someone who does Good whereasthe rest fall into Temptation and Sin.

Likemajority of the leaders of the Catholic Church, and especiallybecause it’s in the Medieval Era, he is seen as someone who isinherently above his fellow man, better, purer, more virtuous, whichis why he deserves to hold his position, and use all the power andinfluence that affords him.

Butthen, Esmeralda comes along, he is tempted by her beauty, and herealizes that he is not as invulnerable and incorruptible as hethought he was.

Unfortunatelyfor all of us, he refuses to take responsibility for it.

It'snot my faultI'm not to blameIt is the gypsy girlThewitch who sent this flameIt's not my faultIf in God'splanHe made the devil so muchStronger than a man

Here,he refuses to believe that there’s any fault in him, that he isstill prone to temptation despite his beliefs; rather, he engages inwhat is called “Scapegoating,” putting all the blame inEsmeralda, going so far as to irrationally cast her as some wickedenchantress with powers that he doesn’t stand a chance ofresisting, than just a woman he is fully capable of getting over.

However,that involves him admitting that he was wrong about his belief thathe is incorruptible and “holier than thou,” and he wants toprotect that idea, more than he actually wants to be it, simplybecause it’s less distressing for him.

Thisis called Cognitive Dissonance, the stress someone experiencesfrom having a belief or more than directly oppose their actions andbehaviours.

Otherexamples of Cognitive Dissonance are:

Someonewho believes themselves a healthy person despite having a pack-a-daycigarette habit;

Someonewho buys a product or a service and it doesn’t turn out nearly asgood as they thought it would, so they make all manner of excuses andjustifications to make it better (in their minds); and

Someonewho stays in a relationship that has long past its expiration date,because they don’t believe themselves to be someone who gets it“wrong” with something as important as romantic relationships.

Peoplesuffering from cognitive dissonance often find ways to “spin”things and defend their original beliefs, rather than reevaluate whatthey thought was true and their identity. Rationality, logic, orconsistency ceases to matter to them; sparing themselves from thedistress that they were wrong or are acting against their beliefstakes priority above everything else.

Withthe above examples:

Thesmoker convinces themselves that cigarette smoking isn’t reallythat bad for their health (it’s actually worse);

Thatthe price, the manufacturer, or some other quality of the product orservice automatically makes it better despite the reality of it, likewith the exploding Samsung phones incident, and people refusing toreturn them in spite of the danger to themselves and everyone else;and

Thatthey can still salvage the relationship, that all the problems andissues are not nearly as bad as they are, and that they simply haveto try harder.

WithFrollo, he chooses the Myth of Redemptive Violence.

Inits essence, it’s “Good Vs Evil,” “The Final Clash,” theBook of Revelations where the forces of the Righteous do battle withthe Wicked, purging all that is unholy and ushering in a new, betterworld, or bringing all those deserving into heaven.

It’sinteresting because you see this constantly with all of Disney’sfilms with a classic “Villain” antagonist: there’s PrincePhilip slaying Maleficent; Tiana and Naveen outsmarting Dr. Facillierand letting his Friends from the Other Side do their thing; andTarzan doing battle with Clayton.

Theymay or may not have a direct hand in bringing about theirdoom—Clayton accidentally hung himself because of his refusal toaccept Tarzan’s help, for example—but it’s always VERY clear tothe audience that A) the protagonists are “good” people, B) theantagonists are “evil” people, and C) there is no redeeming the“villains,” there’s only killing, jailing, or trapping them inan enchanted lamp, because they will never turn to good.

Asstated above, Frollo believes himself to be a righteous man, theepitome of goodness, the Holy Servant of God, and people that don’tfit into his worldview are declared “Wicked” and must beslain. He has killed numerous gypsies, has been responsiblefor the death and/or suffering of numerous innocent civilians, andalmost drowned Quasimodo in a well, if it weren’t for the ArchDeacon warning him of his hypocrisy.

Inhis views, there is no salvation, no forgiveness of the sinner, noramending for your wicked ways—there is only judgment, and yoursentence is death.

Protectme, MariaDon't let the siren cast her spellDon't let herfire sear my flesh and boneDestroy EsmeraldaAnd let hertaste the fires of Hell!Or else let her be mine and mine alone

Here,Frollo shows just how extreme and devoid of nuance his sense ofmorality is—either you live, or you die. He also shows more of hisCognitive Dissonance and Redemptive Violence once more, where hepleads that—against the customs and the traditions of the church,and the scandal that would erupt— Esmeralda be “given” to him.

Thisis especially poignant as the Catholic Church has a massive,well-known history of suppressing sexuality and policing the sexualbehaviour of their followers and especially their ordained leaders,usually to disastrous results.

Insteadof giving them a chance to it in healthy ways, or to treat havingsexual urges as a natural thing, the Catholic church paints it asweakness, a flaw in you, a sign that you have failed and that you areshameful, awful, and a sinner for having them in the first place.

“Shaming”someone is the BEST way to get someone to do the thing you’reshaming them for—as you cut their self-esteem, and make thembelieve that they are weak and deficit in some manner, the morelikely they will be to do the vice or the crime because they want tofeel better, and the more likely they will accept that they truly AREbeyond saving, that there’s no hope for salvation, so fuck it,let’s do the thing.

Itgets even worse in the ending of Hellfire:

HellfireDarkfireNow gypsy, it's your turnChoose me orYourpyreBe mine or you will burnGod have mercy on herGodhave mercy on meBut she will be mineOr she will burn!

Here,Frollo shows the depths of his hypocrisy and the amazing mentalacrobatics he’s performing, saying “God have mercy” whilstpromising the opposite of mercy: death, or enslavement.

Here,Frollo shows that he’s no longer following the doctrines, the laws,or the traditions of the church, what God decreed or Jesus relayed tohis followers.

Here,Frollo shows that all he truly follows is what he believes to beRight—what is Right for him.

Iassumed that this behaviour follows him onto the Isle, where he has avery warped sense of religious morality that is really just hisselfish desires, being justified in his eyes by tacking the name ofGod onto it, much like Richard “Rick” Ratcliffe.

Whycan’t he get a grip on a loving marriage, relating in healthymanners to people, and building a loving family life for Claudine?

Because,like the rest of the Villains, he wasn’t marrying and having kidsfor unselfish reasons, he was using his ex-wife Salome to satisfy hissexual needs, is still using Claudine as a means to fulfillhis broken dreams and ambitions, and is unconsciously using them bothto serve himself first and foremost.

Thesexuality that was Frollo’s downfall has not disappeared—it’sstill there, and I’d argue it’s actually stronger consideringthe constant state of stress and despair in the Isle that forcespeople to resort to their basest instincts, and engage in whateverwill give them some measure of relief.

However,instead of going the healthy route of acknowledging that he isflawed, and that he should return to attempting celibacy in spite oftemptation, Frollo merely twists his lustful desires into somethingthat would be acceptable in his beliefs, and that of hiscongregation.

Howdoes he achieve this? Marriage, with all the intercourse for thepurpose of reproduction, and reproduction only.

I’dimagine that, after becoming the only Catholicreligious leader alive or not yet renouncing his faith, and thedeplorable state of everything and the VKsbeing raised, he sees himselfas some kind of New Adam,meant to be the progenitor of anew race of “Good, Christian People” who would eventually becomethe inheritors of this wretched hell, take it away from the hands ofthe Demon Queen that rules it (Maleficent), and rebirth it as aparadise.

Beforeyou ask, yes, he could be the CELIBATE steward of this new world,taking care of his non-ordained congregation’s children, but thatwouldn’t let him satisfy his sexual needs, and is thus not anoption in his mind.

Andbefore you ask why he doesn’t get flack about this, all of thepeople on the Isle are criminals, and if you weren’t living in thedeplorable conditions they were BGU, you learn to loosen yourstandards right quick here.

That,and they can be manipulated easily and lead to believe that undercertain circumstances, marriage and sexual intercourse with Judgesare possible—a lot of these people can’t read, and have noconcept of critical thinking.

Whyis he like this with Claudine, raising her up to be an ideal ratherthan a person?

Becausehe know he’s old, he knows he’s weak, and he’s essentiallytrapped in his church and a small area around it in Temple Way—he’sunable to bring the fight to the Islanders (not including hiscongregation, because they’re obviously theexception), be it ideologically or especially physically, so he hasto raise an army to do it for him.

Claudineis not just his daughter to him, or his Flock—she is a Messiahfigure to them, the “child that will lead them” as the actualJesus Christ was, the true successor to Frollo’s church when heinevitably passes away.

Sowhenever she starts to deviate from his ideals (i.e. growing up to beher own person, independent of her father’s desires), he doesn’tsee it as cruel and manipulative to mess with her emotions likethis—he sees himself as a sculptor making sure that this livingclay does not end up malformed, that she is completely, absolutelyperfect in every waypossible.

I’dalso be remiss not to mention that poor nutrition, dementia, and oldage have taken a serious tollon him.

Ishis being a product of the Medieval Era an excuse for hisdysfunctional socialinteractions?

Itis, actually!

Phoebusand Esmeralda are shown to be progressives in the movie, but theproblem is, they’re still the exception,not the rule; the world ofFrance in 1482 is nowhere NEAR the level of multiculturalism anddiversity we see today.

Mostpeople of that erawill never even leave the towns they live in, let alone be able tohave the means to travel vast continents and entire oceans to meetpeople unlike themselves—and as European Spice Expeditions haveshown, the interaction is more likely to be lethalto the natives than friendly, let alone romantic.

There’salso the fact that if a foreigner lives in France, it’s usuallyfrom a slave trade of some sort or as part of a roving band of apersecuted minority, like Esmeralda and the rest of the Romanipeople.

Thetimes they live in are very xenophobic, with very black and whitemorality—there are only sinners and the faithful, and again, withFrollo, there is no room for outsiders like Esmeralda and the Romanipeople, whom he believes only deserve death.

Andagain, there’s also the fact that Frollo is a Judge, and alongsidehis religion and his authority, believes himself to be inherentlyabove and better than people, and that he cannot do anything wrongbecause he is of that high position, as only a “Good” person canhold that office.

Tohave a wicked, sinful man capable of cruelty and madness would beparadoxical, and would absolutely never happen! (/sarcasm)

Thisis why he can’t see the pain and the suffering he inflicts onothers with his actions—he simply believes himself to be BEYOND andincapable of doingevil.

Withthe question of nature and nurture, I won’t headcanon aboutFrollo’s childhood, since the Nurture has the lion’s share ofblame here.

He’svery old, he’s obviously a very senior member of the church, andhas a lot of respect—he has spent almost all of his life beingtreated as higher and better than his fellow man, he has massivepower other people, and the beliefs of his church (and consequently,himself) is that he is a reliable, infallible authority for what is“Good” and what is “Evil.”

Andas the saying goes, power corrupts.

Mostpeople behave in fear of some higher authority, be they the police,their parents, or that of your superior at work. Unfortunately forall of us, Frollo only really fears two people: the Arch-Deacon, andGod.

Thewords of the “commoners” matter not to him. Maleficent has longknown that these people are beyond reason or are not worth it, sodoesn’t exercise her authority. And even within hiscongregation—more of a cult, at this point, really—dissent isimmediately silenced, murmurs that “Father Frollo” might not beas virtuous and holy as they think he is shushed like a motherreprimanding her child during Sunday mass.

Toend this rather long, lengthy tirade, can he ever break free of thedelusion, and can he truly change his ways?

Realistically,no, and no.

Unlikeactual dogs, you can’t teach Frollo new tricks, especially onesthat contradict his worldview, and he’s already shown time andagain that he won’t accept any objective evidence that he’swrong—every action of his is justified to him, and that subjectivedecision is what makes it “Right.”

Itdoesn’t help that, as I’ve said in other headcanons and mentionedabove, the people of the Isle of the Lost tend to be the ones whohave lost all hope, and are desperately clinging onto whatever it isthey can for comfort.

Ifyou bring him to Auradon, and have him meet up with the (much sanerand reasonable, but not entirely) congregations of Auradon, it’dlikely end in shouting and claims of heresy and going against God.

Havingyour everything pulled out from under you and getting throwninto the great big unknown is terrifying and painful.

Andfor many people, they’d rather be wrong and not realize it, thansuffer that—thus, Cognitive dissonance, and belief in RedemptiveViolence, with both exacerbated by the Catholic Church’s stance on“deviant” sexual behaviour.

[qsagataw]

Juuust figured out how to keep the original tags. Lets hope this works for me...

Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:

This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...

It. It kind of fucks. Severely.

And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.

I'll explain:

As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.

Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.

(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)

Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:

"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV

Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.

(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.

...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)

So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.

But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:

The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.

Do you understand?

The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.

The flaming sword was given to be used against them.

So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.

That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.

...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.

They're Crowley and Aziraphale.

(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)

In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.

It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.

...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.

And the Serpent--

(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)

--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.

As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:

"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll

The first to ask questions.

Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).

And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.

And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--

(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)

--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.

To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.

Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.

It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.

And then you keep writing.

And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.

(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).

It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)

...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:

I love this shot so much.

Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.

You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.

"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.

But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.

Godfathers. Sort of.