#my poor baby serpent of Eden

[supercalisunshine]

“we’ve known each other for a long time”

…

“I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it”

…

“I could always rely on you, you could always rely on me”

…

“We don’t need Heaven, or Hell. They’re toxic! We can get away, just be an us.”

…

the way he says everything but he’s so rushed and panicked and desperate and he still can’t bring himself to say “I love you” in this scene kills me

[little-chattes]

Ok so I’ve done a complete re-read through and one thing that kept nagging at me was how little Gideon and Harrow’s relationship makes sense given its quite frankly abusive origins. Harrow spends her whole life making Gideon’s a living hell and Gideon just… forgives her. Total and complete forgiveness for an irredeemable girl.

At first I took the sudden shift in their relationship as lazy writing to rush along the end of the story, but that didn't make any sense either. Muir strikes me as an intensely purposeful writer. Then I remembered that Muir is also an intensely Catholic writer and it hit me. Muir isn’t writing a story about a healthy human relationship, oh no, she’s writing a story about Christ’s relationship with The Church… if Christ was a sword toting butch lesbian and The Church was a sardonic bone witch. Call it tender blasphemy. 

Now Gideon’s role as a Christ figure is fairly easy to parse out given that her dad is… God. But for the sake of self indulgence (I have to put my 15 year long flirtation with Christianity to use somehow) I’m going to go through all the parallels anyway. There are a LOT of them.

Let’s start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

Miraculous Conception

Luke 1:34-38

34 But Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I [e]am a virgin?” 35 The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; for that reason also the [f]holy Child will be called the Son of God. 

Gideon is conceived by artificial means when one of God’s own servants (Mercy) delivers a sample of John’s genetic material to Wake, a ‘normal’ human woman who chooses to carry Gideon in her womb. Notably, the sample lives far beyond its point of expected viability, thus making the conception somewhat miraculous (“Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact” HTN 441). 

The Cuckold

Matthew 1:18-25

18 Now the birth of Jesus the [a]Messiah was as follows: when His mother Mary had been [b]betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit. 19 And her husband Joseph, since he was a righteous man and did not want to disgrace her, planned to [c]send her away secretly. 

Gideon the First decides not to kill his lover, Wake, and releases her out the airlock (AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE SAW ME AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME” from Harrow’s vision of Wake’s note, HTN 124) just as Joseph took pity on Mary, his betrothed, by deciding to divorce her quietly instead of making her infidelity public which would condemn her to death by public stoning (Deuteronomy 22:21). Gideon the First knew that Wake was pregnant and didn’t tell John because he thought the baby was his. Similarly, Joseph goes on to raise Jesus as his own son.

The Birth

Luke 2:7

And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a [f]manger, because there was no [g]room for them in the inn.

 Neither baby Jesus nor baby Gideon were given a proper cradle, one being laid to rest in a manger where the animals ate and the other stuffed in a transplant bio-container (GTN 23). 

The Dead Children

16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.

King Herod intends to kill the prophesied King of the Jews and instead of finding the specific baby, he just has a bunch of them slaughtered. However, Jesus escapes the slaughter of the innocents by Herod when his parents secret him away to Egypt.

 When the great aunts gas the nursery and kill the 200, Gideon is meant to die along with them but escapes her fate.

Now this event has a completely different biblical connotation for Harrow. 

Firstly, the murder of the 200 children represents Original Sin. In the bible, Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, and as their descendants, all of humankind is doomed to also bear the weight of that sin from the moment we are born until the day we die. This is a fact that is drilled into Christians as soon as we’re able to understand it, we are born wretched and unworthy sinners, and there’s nothing we can do ourselves to fix that. 

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

Harrow is a multitude, she is 200 children, the entire future of her house. Shes not just one human being,, she’s the whole damn church.

Naz/Nav

he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.

Although Gideon is not from the Ninth, she is given the Ninth name Nav when she arrives as a baby. Similarly, Jesus is known as Jesus of Nazareth, though that is not where he was born.

The Poor Bondservant

Jesus' role as a servant is emphasized many times in the bible. He was a carpenter's son born in a stable 

Philippians 2:5-8

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.

 Gideon is described as being made “a very small bondswoman” (GTN 24)

The Sword

Matthew 10:34

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

The Wretched Sinner

Harrow is wretched, self loathing, and cruel. 

She is in thrall of the enemy of god, a figure who was once gods most favoured warrior, cast into hell.

She is like the depiction of the sinner who loves the devil

It's important to note that Harrow isn’t a single person, she is a multitude, the entire future of her people condensed into one body. 

The Enemy of God

20 Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, nholding in his hand the key to othe bottomless pit1 and a great chain. 2 And he seized pthe dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, and qbound him for a thousand years, 3 and threw him into othe pit, and shut it and rsealed it over him, so that she might not deceive the nations any longer, until the thousand years were ended. After that he must be released for a little while.

Before the fall, Satan was described as a “guardian cherub” who resided in the garden with God (Ezekiel 28:14) 

(a funny aside, in the bible the devil is known as the great deceiver but in HTN Muir specifies that Alecto is incapable of lying)

A Life of Abuse 

Isaiah 53:3

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,

    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem”

They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff" (Luke 4:28–29).

Gideon lives a life of mockery and is abused by Harrow.

An Unlikely Savior

Despite the fact that Gideon does not fit the expected image of a Cavalier, Harrow chooses Gideon to be her sword and protector.

Despite the many openings Gideon has to make Harrow pay for the pain she caused her, she remains loyal to her

Trust

Harrow realizes that she cannot face the lyctor trials without Gideon, and places her trust in her

Christians are told they must place their trust in jesus in order to reach salvation

Purifying Water

Acts 2:38

Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Harrow confesses her sins to Gideon and puts herself at her mercy

Gideon forgives Harrow totally and completely, she baptises her

One Flesh

Mark 10:8

and the two shall become one flesh; so they are no longer two, but one flesh.

“The imagery and symbolism of marriage is applied to Christ and the body of believers known as the church. The church is comprised of those who have trusted in Jesus Christ as their personal Savior and have received eternal life. Christ, the Bridegroom, has sacrificially and lovingly chosen the church to be His bride” (x)

Ephesians 5:25-26

25 gHusbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and hgave himself up for her, 26 that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by ithe washing of water jwith the word,

They take the vow of necro and cav, one flesh one end

Gideon’s forgiveness of Harrow is reaffirmed

Harrow risks her life to stay and fight with Gideon, even if it means her death and thus the destruction of her death. Her love for Gideon is now greater than her love for the Body.

The Sacrifice

John 19:34

Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.

They will look on the one they have pierced'" (John 19:36–37).

Gideon chooses to die for Harrow, death by piercing

and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

In order to complete the lyctor process, Harrow both physically and spiritually consumes Gideon

Because of Gideon’s sacrifice, Harrow attains eternal life at the right hand of god

The Tomb

The Resurrection

1On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women came to the tomb, bringing the spices they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus

Harrow turns her body into a tomb for Gideon, a tomb fashioned after that on the Ninth

Resurrection on the Third Day

Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. Luke 24:46-47 

“So many months had passed: and yet, at the same time, she had only lost Gideon Nav three days ago. It was the morning of the third day in a universe without her cavalier: it was the morning of the third day—and all the back of her brain could say, in exquisite agonies of amazement, was: She is dead. I will never see her again.” (HTN 374)

Just in case you missed this important piece of information, Muir repeats it three times.

Go, and tell them, then, that he that was dead is alive, and lives for evermore, and has the keys of death and the grave,"

[statticscribbles]

Branch Evolution

Summary: There’s a reason the Ghoulies phrase is ‘Evolve or Die’; also featuring my personal headcanon about Malachai’s family

”What is it Lance.” Malachai snaps at the boy who nervously stands in front of him. “I was just wondering..” “No fuck off; I’m not giving you a day off or listening to your teenage woes; or college essays or… Fine you got ten seconds; spit.” “How did the Ghoulies come to be?” “I started the gang; you idiot.” “But why; how and-”

“You keep asking questions and i’ll…” Malachai doesn’t finish; hand brushing over the knife he keeps embedded in the couch. “Course; sorry to bother you.” “Hey kid; grab a milkshake at pop’s would you.” Lance nods gripping the list and money that Malachai had tossed to him. He leaves to laughter and Malachai settles back into his chair.

“Seriously how did you form.” Penny asks fingers curling around the beer bottle she’d gotten. “You should know; you’re old enough to remember us forming.” Malachai grins at her and she laughs, shaking her head. “I may be but I never knew you before this southside; issue shall we say.” Malachai grins and sighs through his nose. “Liar.” He snarls, shoving past the incoming Ghoulies to retreat into his bedroom.

”I don’t give a fuck! That’s oppressive and outdated and SHIT!” Malachai stumbles back when the fist hit’s his jaw and he growls standing up and sneering. “You can beat me till I’m half dead but like hell I’m letting my baby sister do that snake dance for a bunch of fuckin’ pervs. Least I have morals.” “It’s a Serpent right! It’s our laws!” “Laws can be changed; she’s-” “Just cause she’s your kid sister don’t make a difference; my kids will do the trials just the same if they want to join.” “We’re by blood ain’t no need for us to play initiate. We already live and breathe as snakes; we don’t have to prove ourselves to-” Malachai doesn’t finish shivering slightly as FP throws him out of the Wyrm. “You stay the fuck out Malachite.” FP sing songs and Malachai stands up, shoving FP back into the Wyrm.

“You call me that shit name again and I’ll rip the crown from your fucking dead fingers.” “But that’s who you are kid; crown prince of the Serpents, a jewel in the gang’s crown just like your sister. You did the trials and so will she.” “She’ll do ‘em but not that fuckin’ stripper dance you pass off as-” Malachai ducks his head sighing when Tall Boy pushes himself between the two. “Come on let it go; just for now; we ain’t accepting new members anyhow; it’s off season.” “Yeah, too many jobs, not enough bodies.” FP nods to Malachai who huffs before returning back to his house and trying to avoid the shouting that hasn’t stopped since his sister ran away.

Malachai doesn’t see FP again until two months later; he pushes it off as strategic job assignments; that FP wanted to avoid Malachai annoying him for as long as possible. All it did was give Malachai more and more of a motive; pulling at the ears and heartstrings of the Serpents and the other southsider’s that were loyal to him; that were indebted to him. He crafts himself a fringe community; pulling in anyone the Serpent’s shun; be it those that failed the trials; or those that were double crossed. Even a few of the die-hard snakes assure him they’ll stand with him; of course this is purely due to them falling out of favour with FP but Malachai will take what he is given and let it grow and evolve.

“Malachai, come on kid.” FP hovers in the door frame and Malachai half looks up from the couch, his upper body jerking forwards before the rest of him twists off the couch. “I ain’t a kid FP, just under ten years younger than you, and already head of the gang, took you years, and being in your daddy’s pocket to make it this far.” He grins and his teeth gleam in the shadows. “Ki-Malachai; seriously is this really over those dumb job assignments; I can-” “You can’t do shit FP; you lost your main source; the candyman and the flowers are mine now; you just slither on out of the garden of eden that is the Southside; go on.” “Enough; when will you see this is the problem; we should be united; not divided; the southside is all our homes; we all belong here.”

“Tell that to those that didn’t make it in the gang; those that you pushed and gave the worst jobs because they talked back or got too mouthy about traditions and rules like me. You dug your own grave Snake King.” “And you’re the fallen angel to save them from my wrath?” FP snaps back and Malachai tilts his head back laughing. “When did I call you a god in this FP? When would I ever worship you?” FP grimaces.

“Malachai just dissolve this little game and come back; I don’t want this…” “Want what FP; to fight for your territory? For your members? What happened to the snakes being a family? To the law; no serpent stands alone.” FP turns away and sighs dragging his hands down his face before he grabs Malachai and shoves him to the ground. “Don’t move kid.” It’s the last thing Malachai obeys from FP.

“What happened?” Penny asks, looking at the scar on Malachai’s back that runs onto his ribs, the skull tattoo covers most of it. “Cover up.” She rolls her eyes and jabs him, pulling his shirt as he covers it back up. “Let me see it kid.” She hisses at him and he grips her bandaged wrist shoving her off of him. “Serpent’s never shed their skin right?” He snarls in her ear. “As a snake you should know when one rattles and when to stay away.” Penny’s eyes widen surprised at how his voice drops down into threatening; how his words drawl out mimicking FP Jone’s speech pattern. Penny mulls it over slightly unsurprised that Malachai would use FP as a role model; the man was running a successful gang after all.

“So that’s why you’re so into the snakes; they’re like your ideal gang.” “They ain’t.” Malachai snaps and Penny arches an eyebrow. “Well it’s obvious the Serpents are a sore spot for you; not have the stomach to make it in?” She taunts wondering how easy it’ll be to rile him up if the implication of touching a bar fight wound was enough to make him bristle. “You shut it.” “Oh no dead boy walking. I’m going to talk about my gang as long as I want. The Serpents are my family and even if they cut me out I’m still one of them. And I want back in.”

“You think you’ll get special treatment cause you’re their lawyer? Being special like that; being more than a random member don’t get you nothing when you commit a crime against them.” “Sounds like some of your members have experience with that.” Penny grins but wipes it off her face when Malachai just nods to the other ghouls clustered around. “Out.” They follow his order and each pat Penny on the shoulder, none of them look her in the eyes.

“You should know better Penny. You should be more careful. Evolve or Die. Stop talking about the half done snakes and start talking about what we all become when we die; ghouls.” “Oh so scary; spooky ghosts.” She laughs carefully maneuvering her wrist out of Malachai’s reach; he simply leans over her; fingers digging into the bandages until he sees red on them. “Listen Penny. Evolve or Die.” “I get it your dumb catch phrase.” “You think getting a little skin off your arm hurts; that after throwing yourself at my mercy they’re gonna let you back in?” “God they must’ve rejected you something fierce.”

“No; I made it in. I was just like you; except i didn’t want to ride FP’s dick straight into a high position or jail. I wanted to stop all the shit they praise and pass off in the Serpents. I wanted them to be better; to grow.” He grins at her and she stares in his eyes as hers widen in fear “Evolve or die. You catch my drift Penelope?” Malachai hums and then swipes his hair back pulling it up so it’s out of his face; miming as if it’s slicked back. “Malachite.” He breathes into her ear and she stiffens.

“Oh; you really didn’t know then? How; cute.” He pauses returning back to his chair and tapping the wall. Before Penny can move the Ghoulies swarm back in and she retreats outside; shaking and unable to look at Malachai.

“Told you then?” Lance asks, offering a shake towards her from another Pop’s run. Penny’s convinced he’s doing something besides playing gopher but she’s not really sure of anything anymore. “Malachite Topaz; one of the great-grandkids of the Serpent founders. Yeah shocked me too when I found out. How’d you figure it out? I managed to see his scar; nasty piece of work.” “Yeah can’t believe he; how did he get it?” “Same way you got yours; Jones carved him up.” Penny turns looking horrified. “Jones carve-” “Yeah something went off in FP that day; he was right mad according to everyone that saw; pinned Malachai to the ground and sliced off his serpent tattoo; poor kid got it on his side and back; one of those big snakes eating itself.” “He’s older than you.” Is all Penny manages to say trying not to picture a younger Malachai on the ground alone and bleeding. “Yeah; he treats us like family; i think it’s cause of his little sister; I’m the same age as her apparently. We go to school. I give him updates whenever he needs.”

“And when does he need?” Penny laughs a little and Lance waves the shake in his hand. Penny thinks back to how he seems to always have on in his hand; what she had thought a teenage addiction was the second cover up she’d seen that day. She thinks about Malachai for a moment longer; how desperate he is to appear tough; to appear strong and she doesn’t have to wonder for very long why anymore; she slowly unwinds the bandage on her wrist surprised when Malachai’s hand offers her clean ones.

“You should wash it first; it’ll burn like a mother fucking asshole but it’ll be better that it getting infected and you ending up half dead in the hospital.” “Course; Evolve or die right.” She tries to be casual; tries to wave off his concern but she lets him lead her back towards the house of the dead and she wonders if it’s really all that bad to come back as a ghoul.

Support My Writing?

[travllingbunny]

The 100: 7x02 The Garden

I love this episode. Mostly for the beautiful and emotionally complex Octavia-centric flashback story, for all the exciting revelations about the nature of the Anomaly and time dilation and the overall story of this season (all the exposition was done in a surprisingly natural way and never bothered me), and the way the two timelines were interwoven. It says a lot that I wasn’t even bothered by the lack of Clarke or Bellamy  - or the fact that this episode featured only 6 characters (plus some extras in suits), one of which was a deranged minor character we’ve never seen before. Episodes focused on a small number of characters and plots often feel more coherent. 

Comparisons between The Garden and Eden are obvious, the two even have basically the same title, and many similarities and contrasts, so I rewatched Eden yesterday, and I’ll be writing a post about that episode soon, too. I rewatched the entire show just before season 7 started, but season 5 is the only one I’ve never written reviews of, so this seems like the right occasion. it will also be interesting to rewatch Red Queen after this.

One of the things that I noticed rewatching season 5 is how well the cinematography has been used in seasons 5, 6 and 7 and how it differentiates different worlds. The ruined Earth in season 5 was mostly in sepia, yellow and grey tones, looking like a gloomy desert - except for Eden, which had normal colors. Sanctum has bright colors - it’s beautiful, but a little too colorful, almost psychedelic, dangerous. Skyring in this episode mostly seen in soft light and blueish-green colors - a peaceful paradise. 

Or is that a prison? A solitary/house arrest? I love this duality - it can be both. The most beautiful place can be a prison that drives you insane, if you’re all alone.

One garden, two serpents

Isolation is a theme we’ve seen on The 100 with many characters: Clarke was in a solitary for a year, distracting herself with drawings, then alone roaming around for 3 months, then forced to spend 6 years on a deserted planet, but she was only completely alone for the first 2 months, when she was fighting with nature and lack of food and water as much as with loneliness, and she was talking to Bellamy every day - who couldn’t even hear her - and hoping to see him again. Murphy was alone for 3 months in a fully stacked bunker on Becca’s island, but comfort is no help when you’re all alone, only have one and the same videos to watch and music to listen to, and you don’t know if you’re getting out. Octavia was the Girl Under the Floor for 16 years, and she had her mother and brother, but no one else; then she was locked up for a year; and after all the fighting, including the 6 years in the bunker with 1200 people she ruled over (which was maybe the time when she was more lonely than ever!), she ended up spending 10 years of her life on a planet with a family of two people - again - and no one else, and - just as when she was a child - with little hope that she will ever have a chance to meet anyone else. And here we see the effects of a  prolonged isolation from everyone else, with poor Orlando (that’s what he’s called in the end credits), the prisoner who dug out dead bodies and used a creepy doll just to have an illusion of friends. 

Unlike Clarke in 5x01, Octavia did not have to struggle with loneliness or fight to survive, but the paradise in which she had accidentally ended up in was also a prison of sorts, since she could not get out of it and was likely to spend all her life there, without ever seeing her brother or any other people, except for Diyoza and Hope. Like Clarke, Octavia found a family, and a child to take care of, but unlike Clarke, Octavia did not become a little girl’s adoptive or substitute mother.

The title evokes Diyoza’s line from 5x13: “One garden, two serpents. Eden never stood a chance.” Instead, they got to have their paradise here, until Octavia’s attempt to send her brother a message brought the Disciples from Bardo there to capture them. I’m not sure if that was a bad or a good thing - since that was probably their only way out of Skyring. 

(There’s also a literal garden in the episode, and  this was the first time we saw Octavia farm the land since 4x09, when she learned how to do it on Ilian’s farm. That was the last time Octavia tried to escape her darkness by having an idyllic farm life and a relationship, at least for a few days before the end of the world comes, but her past came back in the form of those people who recognized and attacked her - and she realized she wasn’t cut out for peace and rode into Polis looking for a war. She wasn’t ready at the time to give up violence. In season 5, she insisted that “Farmers won’t save the world, warriors will” - which Monty proved wrong. And now, Octavia has become a farmer.)

But Octavia’s paradise was forced on her, and it was clear that she and Diyoza didn’t really feel the same about living the rest of their lives on Skyring. The difference is, Diyoza doesn’t have anyone else in the world she cares about - everyone she once cared about has been dead for centuries. and she has given up on trying to change the world. She obviously wanted to do it once, when she was fighting “the fascist government who tried to take my home” and blowing up buildings, but she’s now tired of the violence, after being a terrorist/rebel, then a prisoner of a big corporation, again a rebel fighting against that corporation to save prisoners from being left to die just because they were deemed expendable, then she led another war - which ended with her baby-daddy destroying the Earth, and now she’s tired of the violence and wants to have a different life in peace with her daughter, who she didn’t even want to teach fighting of any kind. She’s also content to live without ever reuniting with the rest of the human race. Maybe partly because she was quite hurt to learn that she was supposedly in history books as one of the worst people ever. (Which she really shouldn’t have taken seriously - since it was Russell who said it, so these “history books” can only be Sanctum history books, written by Russell or his family members or other Primes. They left Earth around the time when Diyoza was just arrested, so it’s unlikely they even knew what history books said about her in the next few years - and even if those history books said so, they would be history books written under the same government Diyoza was fighting against.)

Octavia, on the other hand, still has other people she cares about in the world, most of all her brother. Not only did she leave a time when she knew Bellamy and others are likely to be in danger from the Primes - and she had no way of knowing they had learned the truth about the Primes by themselves - but they parted on bad terms and with unresolved issues and with no catharsis, and Bellamy would probably be left thinking she really died when he left her on Alpha - instead of learning that she did resolve her issues and find peace.  She didn’t know that her attempts to get back the way she came, through the lake, would never work - if she had succeeded, she would have probably ended up on Bardo instead. Ironically, only when she made peace with the fact she couldn’t go back and sent a letter in a bottle, it ended up alerting the Disciples - but it all eventually resulted in Octavia ending up back on Sanctum in the same place she left (whether she escaped and came back from Bardo or through some other planet?), and got the chance to tell Bellamy in person that she understands him now. 

There’s some ambiguity about Octavia’s relationships with Diyoza and Hope - at times it seems that Octavia is Hope’s co-parent: she lives with them and is closely involved in raising Hope, after all - not exactly like an aunt who just occasionally visits and plays with the kid. All three of them are shown as a close family unit. However, Octavia does not see herself as Hope’s mother - nor does Hope see her that way. She is “Aunty O”. Hope has a mother, and not an absent or inattentive one, but someone like Diyoza, fully focused on raising her daughter. Octavia and Diyoza may be seen as sisters - with “Aunty O” and Octavia telling Bellamy in the letter that she loves her like she loves him even though she’s a ‘pain in the ass’. Or they could look like “an old married couple”, as Diyoza called them back in season 6 when they were finishing each other sentences.

(But if we’re supposed to think that Octavia’s and Diyoza’s close relationship never got sexual in any way, in spite of the fact they lived together for 10 years without any other adults around and with almost no hope they would ever see another adult, then I guess one or both of them is really extremely heterosexual, real 0 on Kinsey’s scale. If we’re supposed to think that. Technically, we don’t know for sure.)

Anyway, this ambiguity of whether Octavia was a co-parent to Hope or not has caused some debate on Twitter about what degree of responsibility Octavia exactly had towards Hope and whether she was allowed to leave her. But even if Octavia is seen as a co-parent, I don’t subscribe to the idea that every adult, especially a woman, who comes into the situation of taking care of a child must immediately forget about all other relationships, concerns and desire and subjugate their entire life to taking care of that child. Especially when it also means that the child will be isolated from the world at large. I didn’t think it was healthy when Bellamy’s whole life revolved around protecting Octavia, either, or when Clarke, after escaping Polis in season 5, thought for a moment that her and Madi living all alone, as they did during those 6 years, would be an OK future for either of them.

Octavia may not have thought the whole time dilation through (yes, it’s quite likely Hope would be old or die before she returned from Sanctum with the other people, since she’d need time to find Bellamy and others, explain things to them and back them go back, but she still had hope (no pun intended) that both she and Hope could have more of life than and was still fighting to make contact with her people on the other side. Diyoza may have been right about the time dilation, but how did she imagine Hope’s life was going to be in the future? Yes, if Octavia left, Hope would end up alone after Diyoza died. But if Octavia stayed, Hope would still be left all alone after Diyoza and Octavia died, and never got a chance to meet anyone else, have any other kind of life, be a part of the human race.

One may argue Diyoza was being selfish, trying to keep Octavia there, and she certainly did take away Octavia’s choice and forced her to stay. Though, in her defense, she thought she was saving her life - but it was still was one of those “I’m making choices for you because I know what’s best for you”. And it wasn’t her whole motivation - it was mostly about wanting to keep Octavia there as a part of their family unit. Octavia called her out on the fact that it wasn’t all about Hope, it was about their relationship, too. Which certainly seemed emotionally intense, with Diyoza being hurt and sort of jealous at the thought that Octavia would leave her and Hope and that she may love her less than she loves her brother. 

The episode played a lot with the parallels between Octavia and Bellamy, with O using what she had learned from Bellamy to take care of young Hope the same way. And the parallel between Octavia and Hope as “Girls Under the Floor” were even more obvious, even before Hope literally had to go under the floor to hide from the Disciples. That would put Diyoza in Aurora’s role and Octavia in Bellamy’s. It’s not a perfect parallel, as Bellamy didn’t  have any other strong attachments to anyone or any other family while Aurora was alive. But, while Aurora seemed to have no other vision for the future except focusing fully on hiding Octavia, Bellamy tried to give his sister an opportunity to meet other people and live a life - by taking her to the dance - and Octavia was similarly the one who wished to bring other people to Skyring and was giving Hope the hope (!) she would meet them.   

The Three Stooges and the Anomaly

(Thanks @jeanie205​ for that moniker LOL) The one thing that brings down this episode (I’m taking away half the point from it) is the very unlikely degree of plot-induced incompetence that the trio of Hope, Echo and Gabriel displayed throughout this episode - so they could get stuck on Skyring, maybe for 5 years:

Hope knew the bridge was under the lake - she should have known the note could get washed up!

How come Hope didn’t know there was more than one door to the cabin? Or if Orlando built the other door, or someone else who was there while she was away, how come none of the trio noticed that other door?

Even the windows looked big enough for someone to come in. Why didn’t at least one of them stand guard in the cabin? Or at least somewhere close where they could see what’s happening in the cabin? Why were they both sitting somewhere outside? They weren’t even close to the door. Did they think Orlando could only come into the cabin from one direction?

Why didn’t Gabriel take the memory viewer with him when he ran out? Come on, dude, that’s one of the most important things you have there, and you know there is a deranged guy outside, and you just leave it there?

Still, I enjoyed this part of the story, too, especially with all the new info we got - which got me speculating the whole week - see my theories  here.

Gabriel is so adorable as an old man scientist in a young body and even the fact he is more interested in the Anomaly than in any living human is kind of endearing. We also got a glimpse of the nerdy young doctor who was once crushing on Becca before going to the mission and meeting Josephine.

Echo is finally starting to justify her main character billing this season, getting an actual storyline rather than tagging along around Bellamy, and she is already a much more enjoyable character. She hasn’t actually changed much yet - but she’s now put in the position as an audience surrogate, wondering what the heck is going and asking question like “Where is Bellamy?” while Hope and Gabriel spout exposition (they do it so well though that you don’t even mind it).  It helps a lot that she’s not around any of the Spacekru, so we don’t have to deal with the forced “we’re all close family due to the 6 years off-screen, which we spent in utter boredom and without any actual dangers we’d have to deal with” dynamic. Instead, now a character she’s interacting with (Hope) and Echo’s own hallucinations are constantly calling her out on her past actions, which helps fix the issue that season 5 created - the impression that Echo is the one character who doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of her past actions, with her past being simply waved away with “they spent 6 years with her and she’s now one of the good guys” (Although, while I like Hope calling Echo out, Hope got it wrong - Echo didn’t kick Octavia over the cliff after stabbing her, Octavia tripped and fell. But that’s not the first time in the show the writers Octavia has misremembered an event.)

This will be the second time Echo is stuck somewhere in a peaceful place with just a few people for 6 5 years. How much of this will be off-screen? It certainly helps that we’ve already seen her interact with Hope and Gabriel in two episodes, and the dynamic between Hope and Echo is developing, with Echo starting to comfort Hope when Hope showed vulnerability behind her fast-talking snarky exterior. 

Echo still doesn’t seem ready to “face her demons”, since her reaction to her own hallucination telling her she’s still just a killer and asking her who she is if she doesn’t have someone (Bellamy) to follow, was to ignore it and try to kill people and now swear she’ll kill everyone she needs to in order to get to Bellamy. But I assume this is just the beginning of her long overdue character development.

Was there significance to Echo plucking the flower and then looking at the sky? Was it simply her starting to appreciate the beauty of the planet? t It reminds me of how Clarke was  touching the flowers in Eden in 5x01.

Other observations:

Technically, I guess this episode was really Hope-centric, since she was the only character in both timelines. 

I’m not sure what exactly the scientific explanation is for Octavia’s arm healing the moment she got to Skyring. How does the whole temporal flare thing work? 

"What is it about Bellamy that makes otherwise sensible women willing to die for him?” - I see what they did there. I bet this is a hint about what the focus of a lot of this season is. Hope meant Echo and Octavia, but we know that Clarke’s storyline will also soon become about looking for Bellamy “her missing people”, “her family”, “people she loves”. On the other hand, I’m not sure how much it makes sense for Hope to ask that - she must have heard Octavia’s stories about Bellamy, so she’d know what it is about him that’s so special - his devotion to those he loves and how ready he is to do anything for them. But maybe Hope felt some of that same jealousy Diyoza did, or her mom’s jealousy rubbed off on her, because Octavia kept trying to get back to her brother.

It’s interesting that Octavia named “Bellamy, Clarke and Madi” as the main people she wanted to bring here. She didn’t mention Raven or Miller (as she would if she was talking about the Delinquents as a family going back to season 1, or even her mentor Indra, or friend Niylah. Just Bellamy and Clarke and Madi - as a part of her family she wants to bring. There’s no reason why she’d see Madi as her family but not Indra, so this definitely seems like Clarke and Madi are seen as Bellamy’s family and a package deal in Octavia’s eyes. (And that’s before she even witnessed what happened in 6x10.) Not that surprising considering Octavia’s “another traitor who you love” comment from 5x08 and her dislike of Echo. Ironically, almost killed all three of them as Blodreina, which is maybe also a sign of how much she’s disconnecting from that role - even though she hasn’t gone through her 6x09 Face Your Demons hallucination yet.

It turns out Octavia was older than Bellamy in 6x09-6x13. The green box was probably her peaceful life on Skyring that she did not remember. But the red box was the unfinished business with her past. It seems that she was changed psychologically by her time on Skyring even without remembering it.

Hope is now the third child raised on stories about the Delinquents. Little Hope liked Murphy, just like Jordan did  during his “rebellious phase”. Madi, however, was an Octavia fan.

I guess Orlando saw Hope’s name written on the door, since it doesn’t seem they ever met before. But where did the creepy doll come from? 

If prisoners all end up insane as he did - and they probably do, after such long periods of complete isolation - that’s a really messed up way of making people into “true believers”, by breaking them completely. A solitary confinement that’s years long? Cruel.

The Bardo symbol (Phoenix) was seen in the bucket and bottle Octavia was using, which proves that the Bardo people had already been on the planet before Octavia and Diyoza ended up on it.

If Orlando had no one else to dig out, I guess they always make sure to bring the prisoners back after they’ve served their sentence. But they probably killed Dev.  I hope we get the story about Dev and Hope in flashbacks. Seeing what his facial expression was at the time of death, that guy certainly didn’t die a natural death.

The Becca cameo was cool, and this was a whole new face of Becca, kind of cheeky and funny. But her comment that time dilation is “sexy as hell”... um, OK, Yeah, how lucky you get to “get to the future faster” and possibly die before getting a chance to ever reunite with anyone else you know? To be fair, she did not expect all the others in the mission to die and leave poor Colin on his own.

Gabriel “had to be sure she (Josephine) was really gone”. But maybe a part of him deep inside hoped she wasn’t..

So the Anomaly was already there when Colin Benson crashed on the planet. Hmm... that seems to go against my theory that the Anomaly Stones were made by humans at some point during the previous 230 years, but I’m still not giving up on it. Eligius 3 must have travelled longer to Skyring, if it is so far away from Earth and Sanctum,  I don’t think that “Beta” meant that Skyring was the second stop of Eligius 3 - maybe the planets were graded by how good conditions they had for human life. Which would put Sanctum and Skyring at the top, but Sanctum was closer. And with all sorts of time shenanigans going around, maybe there’s some way that the Anomaly Stones could have been placed there by humans. I just can’t believe that it was really some alien race millions of years ago, especially with the Anomaly symbols looking like Greek letters, many of those used in physics or math,  the gender symbols, and the infinity symbol is there, too. 

This was one of the rare episodes of The 100 where no one died. Though we did learn about some people’s past deaths.

Rating: 9/10

[stattic-writes]

Branch Evolution

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

Support My Writing?

[mygalfriday]

i’ll be your man if you got love to get done

{ao3}

Eden Loft is a quiet little café just off Carnaby Street in Soho, all crumbling brick and choking vines on the outside. It looks almost abandoned from the outside, its wild exterior concealing a warm, cozy interior filled with small round tables, leather sofa, and worn armchairs. Potted plants line the bookshelves, the windowsills, and the countertop. The scent of warm scones and coffee fills the air, mixing with the verdant plant life to create an atmosphere both soothing and invigorating. It’s one of Anthony Crowley’s favorite places to stop for a caffeine fix.

This afternoon, however, he lingers outside on the pavement, reluctant to venture inside. With the afternoon sunshine filtering in through the expansive windows, it would be easy to glance inside and spot his date. The only thing stopping him is knowing the sight of whichever poor sod Anathema has guilted into this blind date will make him turn on his heel and leg it back home. He doesn’t even know why he’d agreed to this. The last time his friend had set him up on a date, Crowley had ended up spending an entire evening with some pillock who never touched his food and barely looked up from his mobile.

It’s just so difficult to meet people when he spends all his time working his arse off to make sure his club isn’t a complete failure. Even though The Serpent has been open for a few years now and even though it’s a packed house nearly every night, the nightclub still requires almost all of his time and attention. So Crowley isn’t asking for the love of his life or anything. He doubts such a person even exists. But a few months of shagging someone he can actually have a conversation with would be a nice change of pace.

And that’s what he’s doing loitering outside Eden Loft on a Sunday afternoon.

Crowley groans and reaches for the door.

He steps inside and the scent of fresh pastry and the rich aroma of expensive, organic coffee wafts over him. Tucking his sunglasses into the neck of his black t-shirt, he scans the crowded space for the man Anathema had described. Blond, she’d said. A bit old-fashioned. Crowley had taken that to mean no shagging until the third date but his eyes land on a man who looks like he just returned from tea in the Victorian era and he just knows he’s found his date. Ezra Fell.

Fucking Anathema.

Gritting his teeth, Crowley braces himself for another date from hell and saunters reluctantly across the café. The table where his date sits is beside the bookshelves on the back wall and it appears he’d plucked a novel from the shelf to keep himself occupied while he waited. He seems thoroughly engrossed in whatever it is, flipping through it as Crowley approaches, and doesn’t even look up until Crowley’s shadow falls over the page.

He lifts his head, a pleasant, absent-minded smile on his face. And Crowley’s breath catches painfully in his throat. He’s beautiful. His short blond curls look astonishingly soft and his blue eyes are bright and kind. Though his hands look manicured and soft as they rest against the crisp pages of his book, his chest is broad and sturdy and Crowley imagines he’s deceptively strong beneath that prim waistcoat. Pink-cheeked and full-lipped, Ezra Fell looks like something Michaelangelo might have painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. His clothes are utterly ridiculous, of course, and he isn’t at all Crowley’s usual type but nevertheless, he’s…beautiful.

“Anthony Crowley, I presume?”

Realizing he’s been standing in one spot staring at him like a simpleton for fuck knows how long, Crowley unclenches his jaw and forces himself to blink. “I - yeah. Ezra, is it?”

Ezra beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gestures to the seat across from him. “Please, sit.”

Disarmed by that wide smile - Christ alive, Crowley could swear the room grows a few shades brighter - there is no other option but to sit. He sinks gracelessly into the chair across from Ezra, long limbs sprawling. Sitting closer does nothing to make Ezra less attractive, only gives Crowley a better view of his perfection. It’s ridiculous. He looks like he just stepped out of an Oscar Wilde novel. Why can’t he stop staring?

“I already ordered for you,” Ezra says, oblivious to Crowley’s internal struggle to regain use of his tongue as he gestures to the cup and plate across the table. “I hope you don’t mind. It just gets so terribly crowded in here on Sundays. I didn’t want you to have to wait.”

Ezra watches him hopefully, as if expecting Crowley might be annoyed. And fucking hell, speak. “No,” Crowley manages, relieved when his voice comes out relatively normal. “S’fine. You’ve uh, you’ve been here before then?”

Surely Crowley would have noticed him at some point. He’d have looked up from his mobile one morning and saw him across the café, standing in line waiting for his tea or sitting at a table like this one reading another book. He’d have noticed a man like Ezra if they’d ever been in the same room together before. He may not have approached him but he’d have stared just as he is now - probably from behind his sunglasses and over the top of a newspaper he wasn’t actually reading - and been just as charmed by his quiet grace and sunny smile.

“Oh, quite often.” Ezra shuts his book and folds his hands primly over the cover. “But only on Sundays, I’m afraid.”

Ah, that explains how they’ve never run into each other. Sunday mornings are usually when Crowley is lounging about in bed, nursing a hangover after kicking out whoever he’d brought home with him the night before. Crowley’s usual type isn’t the sort to stay for breakfast anyway.

Ezra cuts off a bite of his pastry with a knife and fork, focusing on the task with an intensity Crowley has never seen given to food before. “The rest of the week, I usually get my tea from the museum’s café. Though it isn’t nearly as good as it is here.” He brings the bite of pastry to his mouth and sighs as he chews, his eyes fluttering a bit and a low hum in his throat. He even wiggles a bit in his seat.

Captivated, Crowley rests his chin in the palm of his hand and watches him eat. “Right,” he says, forcing at least a small portion of his brain into focusing on the conversation. “You work at the British Museum. How’s that?”

“Oh, lovely.” Ezra dabs neatly at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I oversee the archival department, preserving and maintaining all of our historical documents.”

It sounds utterly dull to Crowley but the way Ezra lights up as he talks about his job is far from boring. He smiles and gestures as he talks, regaling Crowley with a tale about a shipment of letters the museum had received earlier that week. They’d been uncovered in the attic of some ancestor of one of Hemingway’s secret lovers and apparently, they’re going to rock the literary world on its axis. Ezra talks about the contents of these letters like someone else might relay a bit of scandalous gossip and Crowley finds himself listening intently. He doesn’t even think about touching his food or his coffee, chin in hand as he gazes across the table and watches Ezra gesture as he talks and take delicate little bites of his pastry.

“And Anathema tells me you own a nightclub?” Ezra sips at his tea, watching Crowley with that same focus he'd given his food. It’s startling enough to make Crowley straighten from his slouch and wipe his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. “It sounds terribly exciting.”

Looking at him, Crowley doubts the man has ever set foot on the same street as a nightclub but he rather loves that he’d bothered asking about it. The Serpent may be an exhausting, soul-sucking venture but it also happens to be Crowley’s baby. He tells Ezra a bit about the club, detailing how quickly it has grown and how much work it takes to keep it at the top of everyone’s list. He talks about the type of people who frequent the place, the live music they have every night, and how much he loves being his own boss.

Ezra listens to every word, asks questions in all the right places, and never once tries to interrupt and make the conversation about himself again. “It must keep you quite busy,” he says after Crowley tells him about his upcoming open interviews to hire staff for the busy season. He eyes Crowley with concern, as though trying to decide if he eats enough or gets enough sleep. It’s such a quiet, protective glance that Crowley feels something warm and foreign bloom inside his chest.

He shrugs, glancing away with his heart in his throat. “I don’t mind,” he says. “I like keeping busy.”

“Yes, I understand. My work is very important to me. But I must admit I’ve found myself craving a bit of companionship recently.” Ezra glances down into his teacup, then looks at Crowley through his lashes. Crowley stares again, helplessly charmed. “I can’t imagine you have similar difficulties finding pleasing company.”

Fucking hell. The man out of time is flirting with him.

Crowley swallows.

“May I ask why you agreed to this setup?” Ezra presses, glancing away again. “Surely you have plenty of opportunities to meet people in your line of work. I, however, am confined to the back rooms of a museum all day.”

Meeting people, yes. Loads of them. In the past three months, Crowley has brought home a lead guitarist, one of the Serpent’s bouncers, a grad school student in leather trousers, a barrister looking for a cheap thrill, and one of his bartenders. Not one of them has managed to hold his attention the way Ezra Fell seems to so effortlessly. Crowley wants to know everything about him. Why did he choose archival work? Why does he dress like a bloody regency dandy? Why are his eyes so kind and blue? Why is he so interested in every word Crowley says? Why did he choose that particular book from the shelf? How does he take his tea? What is it about him that makes that pastry look so much more tempting when it’s sliding between his soft pink lips?

Crowley wants to bring him home and study him, take him apart under his hands until he understands what makes him tick, and then tenderly put him back together again. He wants to stroke his blond hair and nuzzle his throat and call him all sorts of endearments he’s never used before on anyone. He wants Ezra, in all the ways he never expected to want anyone after a lifetime of being alone and convincing himself he liked it better that way when all along, he was just afraid no one would want him back.

Outwardly, he only shrugs again, his eyes lingering meaningfully on Ezra as he says, “Suppose I’ve been meeting the wrong people.”

Ezra blushes. 

They linger over their tea, discussing everything from politics to what they studied at university to their childhoods. Crowley tells Ezra about being an orphan churned out of the system by the age of seventeen and Ezra confides in him about his conservative Catholic upbringing and his ongoing struggle to overcome the subsequent stain of guilt religion left behind long after he shed its chains.

When the tea has grown cold and the pastries have been eaten, Crowley insists on paying the bill. And suddenly they’re standing outside on the pavement, the afternoon sun gone soft and hazy. It slants gently across Ezra’s blond curls like a halo and Crowley stares at him longingly. Angel, he thinks, and his heart skips several beats.

“I do appreciate you meeting with me, you know. I’m aware I can’t be what you were hoping for.” Ezra wrings his hands and Crowley has the sudden wild urge to clasp them between his own. “I told Anathema you couldn’t possibly-”

“You’re perfect,” Crowley blurts, before he can stop himself.

Fuck. Very smooth.

That sort of line would get him laughed at by just about anyone else but Ezra stills, gazing up at him wonderingly. As if Crowley had just reached up and plucked a star out of the sky just for him and handed it over on a silver platter. “I-” He squares his shoulders, meeting Crowley’s gaze. “I do hope I’m not being too forward but… I would like to see you again, Anthony. If you’re amendable.”

Christ, he even talks like he belongs in an Austen novel. Crowley is utterly gone on him already.

Looming over him, Crowley peers into sweet, hopeful blue eyes and swallows roughly. “I’m amendable,” he murmurs. “Very.”

“Oh.” Ezra breathes out a relieved little noise and sways toward him, his smile breathtaking. Literally. Crowley cannot breathe. “Good.”

Reaching for him with a shaking hand, Crowley cups his pink cheek and watches Ezra’s eyes widen. “This all right?”

“Yes,” comes the immediate reply. Ezra licks his lips and Crowley nearly hisses. “Quite.”

With permission, Crowley closes the gap between them and captures that enticing mouth with his own. He tastes exactly like raspberries and flaky pastry and tea. Crowley usually takes his tea without any sugar at all but Ezra tastes like five lumps of sugar and a dash of milk. His mouth opens eagerly and Crowley groans. He presses closer, leaning against Ezra’s broad chest and burying his hands in soft blond curls.

It should be impossible to taste this warm and sweet and absolutely fucking perfect but Crowley knows with sudden certainty that kissing Ezra Fell is like drinking directly from the sun itself. He loses himself in the slick, hot slide of their mouths and their grasping hands. Everything around him blurs and time loses all meaning. He isn’t aware of where they’re standing on the pavement in front of Eden Loft, he doesn’t notice the disgruntled people passing them by or the warm late afternoon breeze ruffling his hair. There is only Ezra clutching at his t-shirt and making those delightful little noises, wriggling adorably under Crowley’s wandering hands.

When they finally break apart, panting, the world feels different. As though an entire solar system has rearranged itself, orienting now around Ezra Fell. Crowley noses at his cheek, struggling to find his voice as Ezra keeps one hand curled tightly at his waist. Clearing his throat, he rasps, “Anathema told me you were old-fashioned.”

Ezra makes a soft, contrary noise and turns his head to press his lips to the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Only in dress,” he murmurs, somehow managing to sound prim despite the arousal Crowley can feel pressing into his hip. “I assure you.”

Swallowing laughter, Crowley pulls back just enough to look into his eyes. “My place then?”

As Crowley lifts a hand to stroke his cheek, Ezra smiles. “After you.”

[zamgoods]

Pray 4 Money Prays 4 You

May 11, 2020       Have you prayed for money recently? Got on your knees and begged for a miracle to save you? How much did you ask for today? One hundred dollars, thousands of dollars, or even more. Lotto Jackpot!

The power of prayer is supported by words.  English speakers use the word “M-O-N-E-Y” for currency without knowing the legacy and lore of the word, you may be praying for funds yet to your dismay you receive woe.   

The Triangle on the reverse of the Great Seal of the United States should be recognized as the yellow triangular warning sign symbol with electricity in the middle. Danger, Peligroso, Doom!

Ever have the idea that Money is praying for you ---to save you. Huh? Wait What?!  That’s right, money is worried for you, but more on that later.

The truth is THAT WE have been following the wrong instructions and haven’t been paying heed to the warning labels.  Proceed with caution when praying for something because you just might get it.  

It is not just my 2cents.  The word money is derived from two languages:

In Latin the word monere means to warn, remind, advise 

 In Hebrew manar means to reckon, count

Admonish, Premonition are words relating to money.  Probably not what you had in mind during afternoon prayers.  Moneie is to think, remind... is it starting to look like money to you? 

I’ ve been trying to understand the connection.  What does riches have to do with warnings of disasters?  “Mind on my money and money on my mind” is a stressful pastime. The rap lyric by Snoop Dog can be used as an SAT prep test study tool.   It is a self fulfilling prophesy. 

Always being broke and living pay check to pay check is the plight of the populous. Trending around the world.  Selling your soul for such a miserable price, must be why so many celebrities end up poor at death’s door.  Doubtful and in Debt.  

But there is a bright side.  The Moon.  The mon in money is a warning sign because of the phases of the moon’s messages.  Staring at the full moon can get you mooneye and moonstruck in a hypnotic trance.  That’s the eye over the pyramid. Words like mononucleosis, monotheism is about the number 1.  Which relates to the moon.  The currents and tides in the ocean and seas have an almost magnetic effect on the moon.  A high tide and possible flood is forewarned by the moon.  It seems to raise water high.  Since we are 70 percent water, some become lunatics and our brains swell during full moon.  

The MON in money is ultimately derived from the god Amon or Amun Ra.  He is the one father of the gods in Ancient Egypt.  The ending of prayers are often punctuated with the word AMEN.  The Theban Triad consists of the hidden god Amon, his wife, Amunet, and his son, Khonsu with the moon above his head.

The $1bill has the eye in the pyramid, some call it the Eye of Horus.  Khonsu is the said to be Horus as a boy with the lock on head.  He carries the crescent moon.   The crescent is a sign for new moon or baby growing into its fulfillment and into old age.  The death of the moon is forewarned by it’s left facing crescent.  In Bible translations, the word Lucifer actually is translated by the crescent moon, hilel.  Maybe the reason the name Eye of Lucifer is over the pyramid, yet the designers of the Great SSeal say it is the Eye of Providence.

Juno Moneta is mother deity for the Romans, who was prayed to for her maternal protective powers of warnings.  She is Moneta.  Roman money was minted near and in her temple on Capitoline HIll.  As you can see the words monetary, mint, money, Monet all have to do with Juno Moneta saving those she cares about, strangely she was against Trojan Prince Aeneas being the founder of Rome and caused him great strife.  

We also have to deal with the word “D-O-L-L-A-R” which means to fall, go astray by fire in Aramaic.

So In essence you are praying for your on down fall.   Counting down the self imposed curses.  Our bills are exactly that, bills.  On the front, it clearly states that it not an asset but “legal tender for all debts...”

Not to mention that $ the dollar sign represents many legends regarding death from Samson’s  demise to the curse on the serpent in the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden.

Sibyls were exalted for prophesying and guiding people and rulers through difficulties.  They wrote warnings of the future.  $1bill spells out the Sibyl who assisted Aeneas to become the forefather of the Roman Empire.  That’ why she is still praying for us and warning us of the perils to come.

Even scientists admit the powers of prayer.  Invoking a plea from your depths of soul energy has effects unexplainable.  But many are ignorant of the fact the “words” we use have power.  Word power can be seen in Dr. Masaru Emoto’s water studies show water reacting to “good and bad” words and intentions.  Biblical and Qur’anic scriptures speak on this vibrations of sounds that can create life and death itself.  Many references can be made on this.  But for now we realize that you must “use your words very carefully” especially when you are fearful and desperate.

[paimaniagalaxia]

Hunted: Aftermath Part 1

Enter Lilith: Mother of Demons

written by: Paimania Galaxia and Jordanthecat11

Summary: Word gets out that Beelzebub has been defeated, as it travels all the way to Lilith’s garden of sins. Hearing this, Lilith hands the care of the infantile Beelzebub into arms of Crowley. As Lilith has plans for her husband once she gets out of Hell.

Paimania Galaxia

Meanwhile in Hell, Lilith, the Mother Of Demons, was sitting in her black aesthetic garden. Just the Eden, but with a more gothic, dead touch to it. She was tending to her black roses as she was humming to herself as she works.

JordantheCat11

As the Mother of Demons was tending to her roses, a black wasp vibrated his wings furiously while carrying a small snake-insect bundle in his arms.  He darted full speed ahead as he approached the garden, slowing down as he landed in front of Lilith while avoiding stepping on the rest of her plants.  He bowed before her in respect and greeting.

Paimania Galaxia

“Oh... Waspper... What do you want?” Lilith grunts in disgust before seeing Beelzebub in the wasp’s arms. “Oh poor dear, what has you reduced to such an indignantly infant state...?”

JordantheCat11

The infant Beelzebub just cried and shrieked in defeat, unable to speak.  Waspper buzzed his explanation to Lilith, saying that his master was vanquished and forcefully reincarnated because of a herd of lower demons led by her husband, Satan.

Paimania Galaxia

“Oh that happened now... My own husband destroyed another higher demon, with idiots by his side...?” Lilith tenses her fist as slivering vines come around Waspper. Squeezing him tightly before the bug’s head and body explode. Shooting bug goo everywhere.

JordantheCat11

Waspper felt a gradual amount of pain as he was being squeezed to death.  Once his body was destroyed, the baby had fallen, rolling over to Lilith's feet as he continued to sob.

Paimania Galaxia

Lilith scoffs and kneels down. She picks Beelzebub in her arms before walking over to an apple tree. “Quit your sniveling... I have to give you to someone to watch over you...” she curses under her breath.

JordantheCat11

Beelzebub immediately silenced his cries, the last of the tears falling down his cheeks as she carried him over to the apple tree.

Paimania Galaxia

“CROWLEY!!” Lilith shouts angrily. As she had the snake demon, once a close friend to her husband and taken away when he was spending time with him over her. She had the demon’s neck chained to the tree of what turned her into the monster that she was.

JordantheCat11

The serpent awoke as he heard the sound of his 'mistress's' screeching.  He hated this woman for napping him from his old master, as well as being chained up to the tree that he had her eat the apple from out of temptation.  He thought to himself, I knew karma was a bitch, but this is ridiculous.

He sighed and rolled his snake eyes as he slowly slithered forward, only stopping a small distance away because the chain was too short.  "Yesssss, my Lady?" he hissed at Lilith.

Paimania Galaxia

“Good to see that you’re awake...” Lilith grins as kneels down before the serpent. It was one of her favorite ‘pets’ to keep. Her other one was taken away thanks to Caligrafía’s nagging of wanting a ‘pet’ of her own. This was a ‘fair trade’.

“I need you to watch over someone for me...” she orders and shows Beelzebub.

JordantheCat11

"Hmm?  What is it?" Crowley asked before lifting his head to see the babe.  Beelzebub's face was scrunched up as if he were about to cry again, but dared not do so in front of Lilith.

"Oh bloody Hell..." he cursed.  "Why do you have to put me on babysitting duty now of all times?  Can't you get Hastur to do it?"

Paimania Galaxia

“Hastur is a pyromaniac when it comes to children... Loving to burn them.” Lilith gives her reasoning and rubs Crowley’s snake head. “But you need a better form than...’That’...” She sneers with a disgusted look on her face.

Crowley slightly glared at Lilith in annoyance, knowing he didn't have any other choice in the matter.  After all, he was a demon, a creature made by Satan who had to obey those who were just as high in stature.  Especially his bitch of a wife.

JordantheCat11

"Can you at least get this neck chain off me so I can transform and not choke in the process?" Crowley asked sincerely. "You can cuff me again in the ankles afterwards so I don't escape.  Demon's promise."

Paimania Galaxia

Lilith sighs, as much as she liked seeing the serpent tied down like this— But he did make her an offer that she liked. It was more than a simple collar and leash. An ankle on a chain was more demeaning.

With a snap of her finger, she sets Crowley free. 

“Fine. Transform now... And no running away out of this.” She warns. “I don’t want to kill another demon...”

JordantheCat11

"You have my word, my Lady," Crowley gave his vow as he bowed.  Then the serpent stood up tall as his body changed to a more anthropomorphic form.  He now had paper white skin, a pair of black horns, short red hair, a black suit to match, and a pair of shades that he didn't need to wear, but chose to anyway.  He sighed deeply as he held out his arms.  "Alright, hand Beelzebub over."

Paimania Galaxia

The mother of demons didn’t like how he looked, but it will do. Lilith hands over Beelzebub over to Crowley. She then snaps her fingers, ankle chaining the anthropomorphic toon to the tree again.

“There we go. That looks more pathetic...” she smiles a bit. 

JordantheCat11

Crowley just rolled his eyes, as he was used to her degrading him like this.  But as soon as he looked down at Beelzebub, the baby began to cry harshly again.  Now this was going to get on his nerves for quite a while.  

Why me? He groaned mentally.

Paimania Galaxia

“If you need me, I’ll be out...” Lilith replies back. “If you can stop him from crying... I can let you see your master again.” She offers, knowing this she can still have him in her grasp.

JordantheCat11

Crowley fell silent as the Mother of Demons spoke of his master.  He knew her promises were true if her subjects did as they were told.  He hoped to see him again someday, as the two shared a strong connection.  Not just as master and pet, but as friends.  And if that meant getting this baby to shut up, then so be it.

He took a deep breath as he began to sing to the screaming infant:

"Go to sleep and dream of pain,

Doom and darkness, blood and brains,

Sleep so sweet, my darling boy,

You will rule when Earth’s destroyed."

The singing was enough to soothe Beelzebub as he yawned deeply and closed his insect eyes, rolling his head on one side as he fell asleep.

Paimania Galaxia

Once she heard that the bustling baby demon was put to rest, Lilith gives a heavy sigh of annoyance. She had to put up with the likes of these morons long enough. It was about high time for some changes around here, only if she was in charge. Like that was EVER going to happen. The mother of demons then opens a portal, once she was far away from Crowley and Beelzebub. As she was going to pay a visit to a certain traitorous husband of hers.

As she ventures through, she exits out of the portal and enters into a dingy alleyway. The streets were bustling in the light as toons and humans alike pass by from her point of view.

"Urrgh... This place is disgusting..." She comments under her breath with distaste.

JordantheCat11

Meanwhile, just around the corner was a woman made of ink, strolling along the sidewalk.  It was hot that day, so having to step foot on the sun-absorbed cement burned her heels.  She had been walking for miles since leaving the godforsaken studio, which made her even more exhausted.  But as soon as she saw the alleyway on her left-hand side, she dashed inside and sat herself down, fanning herself as she takes in the cool shade casting over her.

Paimania Galaxia

As soon as Lilith saw the woman come dashing towards her, she stepped back a bit. She gives a cold stare back as this miss looked like a mangled up mess, with some beauty to her as well. Horrible, but willing to speak to.

"Hot than hell, isn't it?" She asks.

JordantheCat11

The woman slightly jumped by surprise to hear another voice inside the alleyway.  She looked up to see another female being standing tall and firm, looking down at her with sharp eyes.  She wasn't sure why someone of her stature would be in an alleyway, but she was willing to get acquainted while resting.

"Y-yes," said the woman, her voice distorted from the gash on the left side of her face.  "I suppose it is."

Paimania Galaxia

"I have been through worse..." She retorts back coldly, leaning up against the wall. "Let's just say that I live in that very place... But came up here for a mission to do. Personal wise."

JordantheCat11

The woman raised her eyebrow in confusion, not knowing the context of what she just said.  The moment she shifted closer to take another look at her, she recognized her from the books she read back in the days of working for Joey Drew.

"Oh...oh, I see!" the woman replied.  She then politely bowed before the Mother of Demons. "Your excellency...it's an honor.  I am Alice Angel.  But I assure you, I am far from holy."

Paimania Galaxia

"Susie Campbell is your name... I have heard of 'Alice Angel', and you don't look remotely like her..." Lilith retorts in an annoyed manner. Taking someone else's identity was a pet peeve of hers. "But I get what you mean, you want to be perfect like the Angel, sorry dear. But someone took that cake and ate it too. Along with making a family of their own behind your back..."

JordantheCat11

Hearing that name struck a nerve in Alice.  "Don't. Call. Me. SUSIE!!" the angel shrieked, ink spreading out in the form of wings to surround her and the devil woman.  She pants heavily in rage, not wanting to hear another word of that fake who took everything from her.  And she vowed to find her so she could kill her and claim her son back.

"I already know of that family...of that 'Dancin' Demon'...even Asriel."  A smirk appeared on her face when she said that name.  "My one and only son who ran away from home...all because he was blinded by the light...all he had to do was stay and I could've raised him as my own...not run away to join the circus."

She realized that her words were only falling on deaf ears.  She gave in and sigh as she retracted her wings back into her skin, then turned away.  "Oh, who am I kidding?  You don't care.  Why don't you go and carry on your mission instead of wasting your time with the likes of me?"

Paimania Galaxia

Seeing her get so mad, amused Lilith a bit. Seeing her enraged and speak in spite of the Daemonium family was just what she wanted. Her own husband use to hate them, but now since she harmed Beelzebub and became good-- This could be her plan B. To finally break this pathetic family apart.

Lilith then leans over and places her hands onto Alice's shoulders as she coos with a happy, sadistic laugh.

"Oh my dear, many apologies... You really want that family to be yours, don't you?" She asks in a kind, manipulative tone. "Having that Asriel, who's a demigod no less-- All to yourself, don't you? I can tell you where he is... And how to capture him..."

JordantheCat11

Alice slowly lifted her head.  Lilith's words were intriguing her.  She could get Asriel back all to himself now that she was out of the studio.  Her body was stable enough since coming back out of the machine, along with some other dark power inside of her.  This was her chance at revenge.

She turned herself back around, standing up on her feet as she looked into Lilith's eyes.  "I'm listening."

Paimania Galaxia

"I can create a special perfume for you to wear. To only Asriel can sense and follow you every word, even locking his other beings inside of him  while he is under your control..." Lilith explains, letting go of one of Alice's shoulders and summons a small black, crystal glass bottle with a golden spray nozzle and pump.

"He lives in a mansion outside of town, a little north from here with a huge fountain up in the front. The doors have Bendy door handles on them. A dead giveaway for the Daemoniums..."

JordantheCat11

The more Alice glanced at the black bottle, the more wide her grin grew.  This was excellent!  A spell that could make Asriel hers forever!  She took the bottle with ecstasy, holding it gingerly in the palm of her hand.

"Yes...this is genius," she commented as she kept her eyes on the bottle.  "Once I reach the Daemonium mansion, I'll use this to lure my boy in.  Soon he'll be mine once again...and we shall run his so-called 'family' to the ground."  She chuckled evilly, bringing out more demonic distortion in her voice.

She then put the perfume in her cloak and bowed once again.  "Thank you, My Lady."

Paimania Galaxia

"You are most welcome... All you need to do is just lure the boy away. That is all... I will handle the family. Taking them out one by one..." Lilith instructs Alice to follow her word. "I will be going by to see my husband of all things, since you do roam around a lot here... You wouldn't perhaps know where he goes on a daily basis?"

JordantheCat11

"If you insist..." Alice sighed.  "But leave the other angel to me.  I have a personal score to settle with her."

As soon as Lilith asked her about the Ruler of Hell himself, she tapped her finger against her chin twice.  "Hmm...well, now that you mention it, I did feel the devil's presence from this 'Bendy look-a-like.'  I was quite surprised honestly.  But anyway, he went into this shop called 'Bow's Emporium.'"  She stepped out of the shadows to show Lilith the way, pointing her finger over behind.  "It's about seven blocks down and to your left.  It'll be next to the bakery and this set of apartment buildings on Mean Street.  Shouldn't be too hard to find."

Paimania Galaxia

Lilith looks over to where Alice was pointing at. She was glad that she knew who she was referring to, and had a way of getting to him. Finally enacting on her own revenge. An evil grin stretches across her face before cackling to herself.

"Much appreciated there Alice... I do hope we meet again, for now. I have a husband to punish..." She declares. 

JordantheCat11

“Yes...this certainly was a delight,” Alice replied.  “Best of luck with your dark endeavors, Lady Lilith!  Until we meet again!”  She went back into the alleyway to rest up some more, letting Lilith go her separate way.  She would continue her own mission once evening fell so the heat wouldn’t be so overbearing and she could travel without witnesses.

Paimania Galaxia

"Until we meet again... Some sunny day..." Lilith muses to herself before smiling pleased with herself. Knowing full well that this family was going to have some hell to pay. As this was going to start with the demon who betrayed Hell, her dear husband Satan. This was going to feel so good, to her that is.

-The End-

[que-pasa-calabasa]

que-pasa-calabasa’s Good Omens fic rec masterpost

In no particular order, except for the fact that I’m putting all the PWP (or close approximations thereof) together at the bottom. Some will be not be show-canon compliant as they predate the release. Summaries are copy-pasted from the ao3 summary; italics are my own commentary added. 

is it that we are dying? (5k, G): England, 1349, the middle of the 14th century. The black death rages, and Aziraphale has to help a dying demon escape from a church. Sad and sweet, completely indulgent hurt/comfort

Don’t Play With Holy Water (30k, M): When the Bentley goes missing, Crowley isn't sure what to make of it. Unbeknownst to him, a certain lurking demon is waiting to settle an old score... A wild ride full of peril and body-swapping, Aziraphale is a BAMF

Mirror, Mirror (44k, T): Adam, Eve, and Crawly flee Eden through the Western Gate, and it turns out that that simple decision makes all the difference in the world... Parallel-universe Crowley is hilariously evil, regular-degular Crowley takes a turn as the bad-ass

with my mind on my money (and my money on my mind) (3k, T): Mr. Fell was as eccentric as Tim might expect a rare book dealer with a connoisseur's knowledge of cannabis strains to be, and he couldn't help being fond of him. Aziraphale and Crowley do weed, what more is there to say?

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea (1k, T): It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.But if you are the Antichrist, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is Called Dragon, Spawn of Satan, etc., etc., well…you were born with all the aces up your sleeve, and the only admonishment you need is “Have fun, kiddo, and don’t screw him over too hard.”  Pure humor, entertaining drunk!Crowley

Game Over, Insert Coin (14k, M): An Account of Certain Events occurring in the Groundhog Day AU no one asked for, in strict accordance as shall be shewn with Narrative Interference of an (Un)predictable Nature for the Sleepless Reader. Exactly what it says on the tin, all your normal Groundhog Day AU angst

A Matter of Convenience (12k, T): “You know,” Crowley rasped as he struggled to scrape himself off the ground, “I can't shake the feeling that there must be an easier way to go about this.”A possible take on the birth of the Arrangement. There’s some sadness, some historical fun, and some Hurt Boys (tm)

Rarefied Air (3k, E): Earth is getting older, news is getting worse, and an angel has to go to extreme heights to get any peace and quiet at all. But as close as you can get to Heaven, you're still never far from Hell. (Hell hasn't frozen. Crowley nearly has.) There’s explicit sex in this but it’s so much more than PWP

Dark and Stormy Night (or Never Underestimate an Angel) (5k, T): “Hmph. I suppose you think that, just because I’m an angel, that I’m too tame to read a scary story properly?” Silly and cute, Crowley and Aziraphale are weird godfathers to the Them

The Curse of Horemheb (66k, M): “The locals call her Bibân el Molûk, but she’s better known as the Valley of the Kings.”Or: Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other in Luxor in 1908 and find themselves confronted with the consequences of actions three thousand years old. Sprawling multi-era adventure with some good fun tropes

off the record (8k, T): Crowley has to submit a biannual report, but there are some things that he often neglects to include. Cute, sweet almost-meta on the natures of Crowley and Aziraphale

A Sticker Situation (1k, G): Everyone's favorite angel and demon are innocently driving past a gas station when Crowley notices a giveaway that he absolutely must participate in. Crowley is a huge James Bond nerd

Under the Apple Tree (6k, T): Crowley finds himself in a tight spot, and Aziraphale dares to hope his help could turn into something more. Devastating, if you like tragic hurt/comfort this is the one for you

Essentially Social Chameleons (2k, G): In short, Aziraphale and Crowley are not as good at blending in with mortals as they think they are. There are better places to discover this than Newton and Anathema's baby's christening, but, well, we're here now. Very silly, one my my favorite genres (humans are confused by Crowley and Aziraphale)

the bucket list (13k, E): There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on.“Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?” *If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way. Crowley and Aziraphale decide to try some fun human things, there’s some obvious smut but it’s not what it’s really about

Milton Was Right (1k, T): Adam knows where most babies come from, but is pretty sure that doesn't apply to him. Aziraphale and Crowley show their usual levels of competence in explaining where antichrists come from. Just...extremely funny

it's the light (it's the obstacle that casts it) (5k, T): It's like having a curtain pulled back on something he wasn't expecting to see. A surprise punch-and-judy at an up-scale restaurant, a lobster thermidor when he's ordered an ale.Crowley's gleefully trying to wrap his head around the fact that Aziraphale is speaking Polari. Because of course he is. Or: The Patron Saint of London's LGBT Community is real, and he lives in Soho. One of my favorites

HERE BE SMUT

The One in Which Crowley Discovers Wanking (5k, E): It began, like most memorable events in Crowley’s life did, with a bad decision; like most bad decisions, it involved poor impulse control and copious amounts of alcohol. The Antichrist had been born, and he put on lipstick and kitten heels to deal with it, but knew that the clock was ticking, and at times when time was slipping away, it helped to hold onto a bottle of gin. Also what it says on the tin, Crowley jacks off while Aziraphale sort of helps

Come Fuck Me Hips (5k, E): Crowley has had a fantasy about Aziraphale for centuries now. Too bad the angel would never take him up on it. Except, as it turns out, he absolutely would. Crowley’s a bottom and Aziraphale is a service top, this is pretty much the only dynamic I accept

I Was Born to Love You (28k, E): Crowley shows up to take Aziraphale to lunch, and for the first time in quite a good while, he flashes just a bit of ankle. And that's how it all begins. Fun banter, hot sex

The Mysteries of Ladies’ Knickers (2k, E): Somewhere in the fall of 1963, Aziraphale was issued a new body. Later, he was never entirely sure if the mix-up following the assignment of its replacement was intentional or purely accidental. He had his suspicions. Crowley was not sure how to feel about it. It’s hot, Aziraphale is a woman temporarily, there’s sex, you know the drill

Love Hath Made Thee a Tame Snake (3k, E): He was the bloody Serpent of Eden, and he wasn’t going to stand for this kind of flagrant trespassing. Kind of borderline fluff/smut, the first half is mostly cute snake!Crowley

Killer Queen (2k, E): In hindsight, Crowley reflected, it was probably not one of his best or brightest ideas to introduce a six-thousand-year-old virgin to the subtle and intricate matters of sexual intercourse. Things could, frankly speaking, get a little out of hand. (Or, Aziraphale has a sexual awakening.) Oh God, hilarious and sexy, Aziraphale treats sex like food and wants to try aLL THE THINGS

Tryst on a Hot Church Roof (2k, E): Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time. Those nerds trying to sexily roleplay and failing is one of my fav tropes

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 7

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

They got the call from Newt a few days later. Baby Boy Device-Pulcifier, named Alfred or Alfie for short, was born healthy and screaming his head off. Crowley, being the more tech-savvy of the two of them, managed to facetime the other couple so Charlotte and Annabella could see the new baby and their parents. Anathema looked tired, but happy, while Newt was buzzing around the background with excitement, probably annoying all the nurses to death. Bella and Lottie had lots of questions, most of which were nearly unanswerable because they kept speaking over each other. After half-an-hour little Alfie began to wake up and fuss so they had to end the call, promising to visit as soon as they were ready to take the baby home. 

“M’a big sister?” Bella asked, her excitement obvious. Crowley couldn’t help but smile as Lottie began to pout.

“I’m still the biggest sister,” she declared, stomping her foot. Aziraphale chuckled at her attitude and ruffled her hair. 

“That’s true my dear, but do you know what being the biggest sister means?” She turned to him with wide eyes, more than ready for responsibility in that way only children could be. Bella had lost interest and was playing a game on Crowley’s phone, but the demon made sure to listen in. “It means you have to help out two little siblings and be twice the good example for them.”

Charlotte’s face scrunched up in concentration for a moment before she smiled with a determined look. “I can do that, Uncle Aziraphale!”

“Good girl, I know you can.” Crowley cleared his throat and cast a proud look over at the angel. 

“Nice one, Aziraphale,” he praised genuinely, though the sentence sounded a little sarcastic. Aziraphale beamed all the same. It was good to see his angel feeling a little more confident in his abilities to interact with the kids. Those types of things rarely came naturally to Aziraphale and Crowley knew he was trying hard. It filled him with so much pure affection it was almost disgusting. Almost.

“Thank you, love. Shall we go out and pick something up for the little lad as a welcome-home gift?” Their god-daughters cheered, mostly because they knew their uncles wouldn’t be able to resist buying them something as well, and ran off to get ready. Crowley was already thinking about all the adorable little outfits they could buy for the new baby boy. Maybe he could spend a miracle to make sure a few of them would grow with him, at least for the first few months. It’d been a shame when the girls grew out of all the clothes they had gifted.

“Are you up to some shopping Crowley? You have a much better eye for these things than I do,” Aziraphale asked. He ran a hand up Crowley’s arm and into his hair, cradling the back of his head softly. Crowley leaned into it like he always did, soaking up the touch like the touch-starved, heat-seeking serpent he was. Even 10 years of constantly being touched and being able to touch hadn’t removed that need completely. 

“Of course, do I ever turn down an opportunity to spoil the kids? And someone has to stop you from buying the poor bairn a completely tartan outfit,” he teased. Over the past three days he’d had 4 more episodes of nausea and 3 episodes of dizziness, but none as severe at the first. Now that he knew what they were and how to handle them it wasn’t so terrifying for him and the angel and there hadn’t been any more fainting spells. This morning the sickness had lingered until noon before it tapered off and now he felt fine. A little shopping might actually make him feel better. 

“Fantastic. Do you think we might…?” Aziraphale trailed off nervously, but Crowley had a feeling he knew what the angel wanted to ask. 

“If you see anything you really like for, uh, ours, I wouldn’t say no to picking up a few things. Not a lot mind, but you never know when you’ll see something perfect,” Crowley rambled. He adjusted his glasses to make sure they were still covering his eyes. It was a nervous tick he didn’t think he was ever going to break. His slight unease was offset by the relieved smile and small kiss on the cheek Aziraphale gave him. 

“Thank you, my star. You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable though, won’t you?” Crowley leaned down to give the angel a kiss of his own, this time on the lips. 

“Sure, angel. Just don’t try and buy the entire baby store yeah?”  A shrill cry from the room down the hall followed by Charlotte’s voice loudly proclaiming that she hadn’t done anything rang through the house. Both beings sighed and stepped back. Godparenthood called once again. Crowley was beginning to look forward to the girls going home. Not that he didn’t love having them around, but they were really putting a damper on his Aziraphale time. He wasn't sure if it was because of the baby or if he just really, really loved the angel but lately he'd had an almost constant need to be close to him.

Neither of them wanted to make the long drive to London, so they made the short drive down the road to the nearest baby shop instead, a little store called Cheeky Rascals (which made Crowley nearly do his own wiggle of delight each time he heard it). They’d gone here many times since the girls had been born, and were sort of known by the employees. Especially since Aziraphale was the type to gush to anyone about their godchildren. 

“So we’ve agreed. Two outfits and only one toy, since they still have things from when Bella was little,” Crowley repeated for the third time since getting in the car. He doubted Aziraphale was listening, too busy imagining adorable little jacket and trouser combinations. In the back of the Bently, strapped into their car seats, Bella and Lottie argued over who would get to see Alfred first. Crowley, of course, drove the exact speed limit with utmost care while they were back there.

“Aziraphale, did you hear me? Only two,” he repeated firmly. He knew once they got there the angel would start to get carried away with the excitement of it all. Crowley didn’t feel like wrangling a flightly angel and two children at the same time, but it looked like that was going to be the case. 

“Of course dear,” Aziraphale answered distractedly, like he hadn’t actually heard what Crowley said. The demon sighed and committed himself to a much less relaxing evening than he’d initially expected. 

“Just, try to keep it within reason,” he begged as they pulled into the store parking lot. They each took charge of getting one of the kids out of their seatbelts and ferrying them safely through the lot and into the store. Inside was an assault of baby blue and pink, a small section of more neutral yellow, and entirely too many plush toys. 

“Ok girls, why don’t we go pick something out for your new brother?” Aziraphale asked leading them down the isles into the clothing section. He waved at the clerk behind the counter, who waved back and cooed at the girls as they passed, remarking on how big they were getting. Crowley was sure she thought they were he and Azirapahle’s kids, and no explaining that they were their godchildren would convince her otherwise. 

Crowley decided to leave them to it for a few minutes while he looked around for gift for the newborn hmself. He knew Anathema came from money, and could probably afford anything she and Newt wanted for their new baby, but he prided himself in finding the perfect gift for each child. Quickly striding through the stroller and car seat section he came to the toys. 

The selection was overwhelming. There were soft toys, talking toys, glowing toys, and toys that did all three. He’d given Lottie a stuffed puppy that she still refused to leave the house without. For Bella he’d picked out a teddy bear that glowed slightly when you squeezed it that had made her frequent night-time worries much less frequent. Crowley needed to find something similar for the new one, which was going to be a little bit of a challenge since he hadn’t actually met the kid yet. Relying almost entirely on his Demonic Luck (which, if asked, he would deny having and instead have called it skill), he scanned the shelves, waiting for something to jump out at him. 

After a few minutes of fruitless browsing, he Felt something as he passed a display filled with a variety of different plush pillows. He began to scan the piles, looking for one that felt right. Carefully, Crowley began to dig deeper into the pile, until his hand touched something. It was a blanket, barely four feet long, knit with a lovely cream base and accented with green felt leaves. Upon closer inspection it wasn’t right for his new godson; something inside his chest told him it was a little bit too dainty. But it still called to him for some reason and he couldn’t seem to get himself to put it down, like static cling had glued it to his hand. So he didn’t try, and instead bundled it up in the crook of his shoulder and kept looking. 

In the end he came across a caterpillar-shaped stuffy with extremely soft fluff around the head that felt right for little Alfred. His mission completed, Crowley decided it was about time to check in with Aziraphale and get to work on cutting down the probably dozens of items he and the girls had amassed. Surprisingly when he found them, still in the clothing section, they had less than ten in their cart, with Charlotte and Annabella holding one shirt each for themselves. The shirts both read “proud big sister” which made him smile.

“Found anything you like angel?” he asked, waltzing up behind Aziraphale and resting his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale had two teeny-tiny bowties in his hands, one a blue checkered pattern and the other solid red. “The blue one would look cute with those corduroy overalls you have picked out, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Oh, Crowley! You startled me!” Aziraphale said, shaking himself a little then holding both bowties up. “Do you really think so? I would have thought you’d prefer the red and that little jean jacket with the matching trousers.”

Crowley cast an eye over the mentioned articles and made a considering noise. “Not for him, I don’t think. It’s more, our style?” And it was. The jacket was that kind of cool-baby-chic that was very in right now, and the trousers had cute little tan patches sewn over the knees that reminded him of Aziraphale’s favourite coat. 

“I think you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the red bowtie aside sadly. Crowley snatched it up and set it at the neck of the outfit. It really did go well. 

“We could get it for us,” Crowley murmured, refusing to look away from the little outfit. He could picture a faceless form, a few months old crawling around in those exact garments. Or walking through St. James’ Park pushing a stroller, while the angel walks beside him, leaning down to fuss with the collar of the jean jacket, making sure it’s keeping its owner warm and happy. Embarrassed, he physically shook his head to bring himself back from that daydream. He held out the bowtie like it might burn him. “If you like it so much, I mean.”

“Oh really? I think we should. Something about it just seems very right,” Aziraphale gushed, putting the items in his buggy happily. “Did you find anything for Alfred?”

Crowley offered up the stuffed caterpillar in what he hoped was a casual fashion. It felt right, but Aziraphale’s approval of the toy was inordinately important to him. Luckily the angel smiled and nodded, saying that it was perfect. Bella and Lottie ooh-ed at the toy, each holding their hands out. Crowley didn’t hand it over though; he knew that if he did it’d never make it to its rightful owner. 

“Not this time, niblings. This is for your new brother. And besides, your mum and dad would kill me if you brought home and more toys.” They didn’t kick up too much of a fuss, mostly because they already had their “sister shirts”, as they had begun calling them. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat on a nearby bench, content to watch Aziraphale coo over baby shoes. This trip was far less traumatic than he’d been bracing for in the parking lot and it felt good to get to enjoy this in a weird, human way. Never, in all 6000 years of his life (and before that, the blurry memories of far, far Before), had he imagined he would be sitting in a baby store, shopping for his human friend's child (nevermind his own).

“Well what do you think Crowley? I’ve narrowed it down to five, and we can pick two from those?” Crowley was once again snapped out of his daydreaming to address his lover. All five outfits were perfect. Maybe he’d been giving Aziraphale too little credit before. 

“Let's just get all of them. We can save a few for his first birthday or Christmas and miracle them to fit,” Crowley answered, greatly enjoying the way Aziraphale lit up. Of course he knew they’d go home with more than they intended, but how could he deny his angel anything?

“Really? That sounds like a wonderful plan. We won’t have to make another trip out here for the Holidays.” They would though, Crowley knew. They wouldn’t be able to resist giving the kid some of the outfits whenever they visited, no matter how much they tried. 

“Sounds good then. Are you ready to go?” Crowley watched Aziraphale pause and go through his mental checklist. He was just about to assure him that they’d gotten everything they came for when the angel pointed to his side.

“What’s that?” Crowley looked down then felt himself blush. He’d completely forgotten about the blanket nestled in the crook of his elbow. “Is it something else for Alfred?”

“N-no,” Crowley stuttered, feeling more than a little flustered again. He’d kept his cool over the outfit mostly because Aziraphale had picked it out and he was only doing the angel a  favour by saying they should buy it. The blanket was his choice and that made it all the more personal and real. “I liked it, s-so I thought maybe… you know?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale had that look on his face that said ‘I know exactly what you mean, but I want to see if I can make you say it’. It was a look that was almost always followed by Crowley making a fool of himself as he tried to muddle through his feelings.

“Bastard,” he huffed under his breath, quiet enough that the kids wouldn’t hear. “It's for--for our one? Alright?”

Of course that earned a slight laugh and a large smile from his angel. “Of course, dear boy. May I see it?” Crowley handed over the blanket with a scowl, refusing to look up from the floor. He could head Lottie whispering to Bella about how his face was nearly the same colour as his har. “It’s lovely Crowley. The leaves--and this wool is so soft! A very good choice, love.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers across the woven wool with delicate care, almost like it was one of his precious ancient scrolls. Slowly he brought it up to his face, pressing the softness to his lips and humming in pleasure. Crowley’s breath hitched, his soul nearly undone by the simple, rapturous look on his angel’s face. “Glad you like it, angel.”

“I’m sure I’d like anything you pick out.” Did Aziraphale know what saying those kinds of things did to him? He must have, he said them so often it had to be on purpose. But usually, when the angel was teasing him he would get that look, so maybe he didn’t. It seemed impossible but maybe Aziraphale really did just… love Crowley like that. 

“Can we go now?” Lottie whined while tugging on Crowley’s sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

“Nibbles?” Bella asked, wide-eyed and eager as Aziraphale picked her up and placed her in the buggy seat. Crowley had taught her that one, mostly because he knew it would make Aziraphale laugh. 

“Why not? I’m sure we can find somewhere to grab a bite before heading him, right Crowley?” Of course they could. They had the near-limitless power of Heaven and Hell at their disposal, finding a place to eat was extraordinarily simple. Finding somewhere that served something both girls would eat, that would meet up the Aziraphale’s expectations, and had parking enough for the Bently was another matter entirely. But things had been going well so far, and Crowley was feeling quite optimistic for once, so he nodded and led them towards the check-out. Maybe it was possible to have a nice, relaxed afternoon with their little extended family, without any disasters.

Three days later Newt called to say they were ready for the girls to come back home, and if Crowley could drive them over that would be much appreciated. Crowley thought about refusing to make the drive, just to live up to his demonic nature, but in the end couldn’t resist going to give his present to Alfred in person. So he and Aziraphale packed up Bella and Lottie with their gifts and made the few-hours journey to Tadfield. Of course it took much longer than usual, since Crowley had to go the speed limit, but at the very least he was able to miracle to traffic to stay clear. 

“Ok now girls, you must try and stay quiet in case your brother is sleeping,” Aziraphale instructed as Crowley parked. “I know you’ve missed your mummy and daddy, and that you’re very excited, but it is very rude to wake a baby from their nap.”

“Yes Uncle Azi,” they both said, practically vibrating with excitement. They were both wearing their new shirts, and Aziraphale had braided their hair in an effort to make things as easy as possible on the new parents. Crowley expected that at least one of them would forget their instructions the second they all got inside, but he was ready to expend a small miracle to make sure Alfred stayed calm and not screaming through their visit. 

“OK, let's go, angel,” he said. He saw Anathema waiting at the bay window, waving happily with a small bundle in her arms. Newton was already at the front door kneeling down and opening his arms for when his daughters inevitably rushed him. Crowley watched with a small smile, especially when Lottie began to loudly explain their new outfits and Bella shushed her. 

“Isn’t that just lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the seats to rights and offering to take one of the bags Crowley was holding. “I know they love us, but there’s something special about the bond between parent and child, isn’t there?”

“I know lots of people who’d disagree with you there angel,” Crowley remarked, hefting the remaining bag over his shoulder. Aziraphale very nearly began to whine. “Oh hush, I know what you mean.”

Aziraphale harrumphed and gave Crowley a scolding look. That was a common occurrence in their household though, so it barely phased the demon as he walked towards the open door. Newt was braced against the doorframe, making a valiant effort to listen to both girls as they simultaneously chattered at him. He looked ecstatic all the same, and Crowley’s stomach did a mild, swooping dive when realized that in a few years he might be in the same position. The last thing he needed right now was to get all overemotional, so he looked away, instead focusing on sliding through the doorway without getting knocked over himself. 

“Hello Crowley, Aziraphale!” Anathema greeted eagerly. She was wearing one of the long flowy dresses she’d favoured during her pregnancy and looked absolutely radiant despite the fact she had literally pushed a living being out of her body not even a week prior. “Thank you again for looking after the girls for us, you have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

“No worries, my dear. The girls have been a delight. Isn’t that right Crowley?” Aziraphale said from over his left shoulder. Crowley was too busy staring at the bundle of blankets in her arms. He’d reacted the same when Lottie, then Bella were born, so Anathema wasn’t surprised. 

“Why don’t you come inside for some tea, and meet the little man. You’re very lucky, he’s just woken up from a nap.” She gestured for them to drop the bags in the hallway and follow her inside to the living room, where there was already a pot of tea, steaming and ready, sitting on tea-cozy. 

“Witches,” Crowley grumbled quietly, but Anathema just laughed. Behind them, the front door closed and the house was filled with the ruckus of Newt trying to get the kid’s shoes off before they ran into the house and tracked mud all over the carpets. He decided to take up residence in the wingback armchair by the fire that he always sat in when they visited, closest to the couch where Anathema had set down with the baby. The angle made it so he could see the barest wisp of dark hair peeking out of the blankets.

“Alright, here you go,” Anathema said suddenly, shifting over so she could pass him the baby. Crowley’s eyes went with shock, though he still held out his arms and took the boy from his mother with practised ease. "Oh don’t look like that, I know you’re dying to hold him.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, getting a good look at the little blob of pink flesh and linen. Alfred had his dad’s nose and his mom’s eyes, along with a startling shock of thick dark hair. Both Device-Pulcifer girls had been born with little more than peach fuzz, but he knew human babies came in all shapes and sizes. Aziraphale lingered over his shoulder still, making sweet cooing and awing noises.

“He’s perfect, Anathema,” Crowley said in an awed voice. “Shame about him getting Newton’s nose, but I’m sure it won’t do him much harm.”

“Ha-ha,” Newt groaned from the hallway. “Didn’t you say my nose suited Lottie when she was born? I seem to remember something like that at least.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale poked him lightly in the side. “Fine, his nose is… adequate. Lots of hair.”

“Yes, it’s actually quite shocking!” The angel sat on the arm of the chair and petted a hand against the baby’s head. “I’d forgotten how soft newborn hair is.”

“He’s a good sleeper too, only wakes us up every two or so hours,” Anathema said proudly. She procured a bottle from one of the side tables and held it out. “I was going to feed him, would you mind?”

“No problem.” In fact, Crowley was more than happy to spend as much time as possible holding the kid, though if he didn’t give Aziraphale a turn in a few minutes the angel might start complaining. Anathema nodded and passed over the bottle before standing a little stiffly. With a silent snap, Aziraphale took away some of her post-birth pains, though not enough that she would notice and start to put up a fuss. Crowley noticed of course, but he didn’t say anything. 

Anathema left them there to go greet her other children. The entire cottage was filled with so much love that even Crowley could feel the very edges of it against his demonic soul. The first time he’d held Charlotte when she’d been born he’d nearly passed out from how much love he felt for her. It had happened a few other times too, when Aziraphale had confessed his feelings a week after Armageddon, and when they’d bought the cottage. Bella’s birth had come as a surprise--she’d been 2 months early--and unfortunately, that time had been filled more with fear and relief than love. But now, holding this little bundle of happiness and innocence, Crowley felt overwhelmingly at peace as he watched Alfred slowly suck down the milk provided. 

A small gasp made him lookup. Aziraphale was staring at him and the baby with something akin to wonder and Crowley realized a large amount of the love he was feeling was radiating from his angel. He smiled and even though his sunglasses were still on he knew it was too genuine and too soft for his harsh features. “Do you want to hold him?”

Aziraphale shook his head, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and caressing his cheekbone as if he were something precious. “Not yet, my starlight. I’m enjoying watching you with him for the moment.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, feeling that familiar embarrassed heat creeping up his neck. It was bad enough he couldn’t hide how much of a sap he was for children, did his angel had to go and point it out all the time? He ducked his head back down to focus on holding the bottle at the right angle.

“Shh, don’t get yourself all in a tizzy. I only mean that it’s nice to see you so happy,” Aziraphale said as he planted a kiss against the crown of Crowley’s head. “I think it’s rather beautiful.”

Crowley was saved the indignity of floundering through a response because Bella and Lottie were being led into the living room by Anathema and Newt. Each adult held one little girl in their arms, depositing them down by Crowley’s knees with instructions to be very, very careful. He set the finished bottle aside and tilted forward, just enough so they could see their newest sibling.

“He’s small!” Bella squealed, her little fingers curling the blankets. Alfred wiggled and freed a hand, his itty-bitty fingers curling around hers. 

“Why’s he look like that?” Lottie asked. That forced a laugh out of all the adults.

“You looked like that too honey, when you first came out of mommy’s tummy,” Anathema explained. Lottie looked scandalized but quickly recovered when Alfred let out a squawk. 

“Is he trying to talk?”

“No, babies can’t talk until they’re older. Remember when Bella was little?” Newt asked and Charlotte nodded, though she’d barely been three at the time. “Well, babies look a little funny for a while when they’re first born. He’ll look different in a week or two, just like what happened to you.”

“I never looked like that,” she insisted, looking very much like her mother. Newt just laughed and gave her a kiss to the head. Crowley rocked Alfred a few times, since he’d begun whimpering more and more, then decided it was time to hand him back to Anathema.

“Little guys getting fussy, you’d better take him,” he said, handing him off to his mum. “I’m sure there will be time for you to hold him later angel.”

“That’s fine dear, wouldn’t want to set him off. Oh! Why don’t we go get his gifts?” 

Alfred loved his stuffy, just as Crowley knew he would. The little tyke quieted right down when it was placed next to him in his rocker. Anathema and Newt greatly enjoyed the two outfits they’d brought with them, especially when Crowley assured them they would fit for the foreseeable future. The girls excitedly showed off their shirts, and overall it was a very pleasant afternoon. They were invited to stay for dinner, which Anathema insisted they accept as thanks for babysitting. Aziraphale was delighted to find out that she’d cooked her mother’s paella, though he admonished her for going to all that extra effort just for them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I needed something to do when Alfie woke me up this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” They sat around the dinner table and chit-chatted idly. Crowley made a go at some of the rice, eating around the seafood bits, but in the end wasn’t able to manage more than a  few spoonfuls before feeling that now-familiar rolling in his stomach. He pushed his share over the Aziraphale, who took it happily, not stopping his conversation with Newt about the human’s new job at the post office. Crowley glanced over to the witch, worried his refusal to eat might be insulting, but she just smiled and shrugged. 

“I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as fish when I was pregnant with Charlotte, don’t worry about it,” she assured him. It was the first time all day anyone had acknowledged Crowley’s… condition and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he started showing, and everyone who saw him would know. 

“Ngh,” he responded, shrugging himself. It was awkward, being seen like that, but if it had to be anyone, the witch was probably the best option. “How long does this go on for again?”

“Usually just the first trimester, unless you’re really unlucky.” Which meant the was probably going to be doomed for the next however long. 

“Great. Bloody, peachy,” he moaned, resting his forehead on the table. Bella giggled and tried to toss a shrimp into his hair, though she was thwarted by Anathema’s stern ‘mom glare’. 

“Do you know how far along you are?” she asked, unphased by her daughter’s pouting. Crowley squirmed a little and wished Aziraphale was paying attention so he could field all these questions. But the angel continued to chatter on, oblivious to Crowley’s discomfort. And besides, Crowley thought, it was pathetic how often he was hiding behind his lover anyway. Time to buck up and not be a coward for once. 

“We think two months? Maybe a little less? It’s not exactly like this sort of thing has been done before so we’re not exactly sure of… anything,” he explained, tipping his head up so his chin was resting on the table. This was nearing dangerous territory. “For all we know this whole process could take years.”

Anathema winced in sympathy. “I hope not. I have a few things leftover from Alfie, some tea and herbs and stuff that really helped me if you want them.” Human kindness always surprised him. He was struck with the urge to thank her profusely. 

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose,” he said instead, readjusting the arms of his glasses to make sure his eyes were fully covered. He didn’t truly need them here but without at least a few glasses of wine, he felt more comfortable with them on. Hell, he’d worn them for at least the first year when he and Aziraphale moved into their cottage. 

“I guess it is all new territory. I could try and do some scrying, if you want, get the general lay of the next few months. I can’t make any promises though, I’m sure you know this stuff is more of an art than a science.”

Of course that caught Aziraphale’s attention. “You could really do that? I’m afraid looking into the future has never been one of my strong suits. Everything gets so awfully muddled, you think you see one thing but it turns out to be entirely something else.”

Crowley, who had been ready to insist that he did not want even more help, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve tried looking into the future? I’m a demon and even I know that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Worked out well with Agnus though, didn’t it?” Newt chimed in, helping himself to seconds. “Rather well, if I remember.”

Anathema grinned smugly at the two occult beings. “Newts right, you know. Seems humans are just better at doing some things.”

“Newts right, you know,” Crowley mocked under his breath. The two humans just laughed while Aziraphale gave Crowley a swift slap to the arm.

“Crowley! Anathema has so kindly offered to look into our baby’s future and you feel the need to act like a complete child?” he seethed with all the polite rage of a true Englishman. Crowley squirmed under the angle’s unrelenting gaze. Aziraphale quickly turned to Anathema with an apologetic look. “Terribly sorry dear. We would much appreciate any help you could give us.”

Crowley glared at the table, successfully chastised. It wasn’t his fault! All these questions about something so personal were making him uncomfortable, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. Well, he could. Might do even, in a minute. Spend some time curled up in the trunk of the Bently as a snake. He always kept a few soft blankets in there, just in case. 

“It’s fine,” Newt said, amused. “I remember how moody Anathema got when she was preg--” Right! That was it. A pot he hadn’t known was boiling inside him bubbled over. Crowley stood suddenly, his chair making an awful screeching sound against the wood floor.

“Gotta--gonna go outside--for some air. Y-yeah, air!” he garbled, quickly stalking towards the front hall. Aziraphale made to follow him but Crowley threw up a hand. “Don’t worry, won’t be more than a tick.”

For someone who walked like they were going to fall over at any moment, Crowley could move rather fast when he needed to. It came in handy in situations like this, or when he wanted to practise his dine and dash skills. In less than 30 seconds he was outside and popping open the trunk of the Bently. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed no one had followed him, and then he transformed into a snake. Smaller than his regular form, but it had to be in order to fit in the boot. He slithered into the dark, warm space and flicked his tongue at the door, which promptly shut itself. There, someplace calm and quiet to cool off (metaphorically speaking, it was warm in the trunk). He’d just stay for a few minutes, not long enough cause too much of a stir. Then he’d go back and finish dinner like nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. He was just overthinking and needed to spend some time not doing that. Only a few minutes, fifteen at the most. Then he'd go back.

[redditnosleep]

What Became of Eden

by draaagonite

I had always been an atheist. My strict Lutheran parents assigned the Bible as a summer reading project when I was ten. Unfortunately for them, I was a clever young girl, and quickly turned from religion upon unearthing the hypocrisy within the Good Book.

Clever young girls, especially brown ones, had not much to look forward to in the middle of the twentieth century.

I read every book in the colored section at the local library half a dozen times. When that wasn’t enough to sate my thirst for knowledge, I bribed a friendly white girl with sweets and checked out books in her name.

You can imagine my relief when I awoke from my coma and Jim Crow had ended.

The accident, fortunately, was quick. Lightning. I don't remember being in pain. I remember stopping in the street to pick a pebble from my shoe. I remember looking up to see the headlights. Lightning. Then black.

When my eyelids fluttered open moments or years later, the sky above was a dusty mauve, as though rose petals had been sprinkled into a milk bath. Soft light was filtering through the leaves of the tree above, but from no sun I could see. The air was still. Tense. Quiet.

I drew an enormous rickety breath. My lungs burned, screaming for me to stop breathing in the perverted air. I choked for agonizing minutes, clawing at my throat, at the plush grass beneath me. Dark spots swam in the corners of my vision.

Strong hands hoisted me upright. Too weak to fight, I attempted to scream, only to have my mouth and nose covered. My hands flung wildly to my face, scratching at my captor’s fingers.

“Stay your breath, sister. This poisoned air is not for you to inhale.” Her voice was soothing and rhythmic, like large wooden wind chimes singing in the breeze. With little other choice, and in realising I must be lying in my hospital bed dreaming, I obeyed. I let my diaphragm relax, and my hands fell limply at my sides. As the air left my body, so did the prickling pain. “Very good,” said my savior. “I now will release you. I must ask that you do not run, for there are far more terrible creatures than myself in this garden.” As promised, her grip around my face lessened. “Can you stand? Let me help you.” She gently guided me to my feet and faced me.

She stood at nearly six feet tall, with copper tresses falling in elegant waves to the small of her back. Her pale pink face was soft and round, save for her piercing deep brown eyes and angular brows. A simple white cotton dress hugged her curvaceous form. Curled around each bicep was an emerald green snake, slithering around her arms with no apparent malice for their human companion.

I rubbed my eyes. Pinched my forearm. No, I was not dreaming. That was for certain. Nor, however, was this was not reality, not as I knew it.

I opened my mouth to speak, but tasted the pang of the toxic air on my tongue. The woman smiled at me sadly. “I’m afraid I can do nothing to help you in the way of speech, sister. Only those of us who live in the garden can tolerate this air, and trust when I say you do not wish to take up residence here,” she explained.

Where is here? I thought, looking to either side. To my left was a babbling river flowing with indigo waters. Beyond the river was an exquisite garden, lush with flowers and bushes of all kinds. Though beautiful, the leaves and petals were all muted, no more than whispers of the colors they had once been. To my right was the tree I had awoken beneath. I reached out to touch the bark. It was warm, as though the tree pulsated with veins like my own. I splayed my palm out on its trunk, enjoying the warmth.

“The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,” said the woman, answering the question caught in my throat. “A gift intended for all, but kept hidden from the world.” She smiled sadly, gazing up at the ripe red apples hanging in the branches. “I would offer you the fruit, but if you had not already tasted it, you would not have awoken beneath its bough, no?”

Tree of Knowledge? I looked to the dusty flora, to the pinkish sky. If that was the Tree of Knowledge, then this had to be The Garden of Eden, though it was not the earthly paradise described in any text I had read. What happened here?

“Come, sister. We haven’t much time. If your soul remains parted from your body for too long, I fear the connection may be severed for all time,” she said, reaching for my hand. I hesitated. I may not have believed the Bible, but one thing was common across literature: don’t trust snakes.

As though reading my thoughts, she offered her hand again. “Trust me. What other choice do you have?”

With that, I slipped my clammy hand into hers. She smiled at me. “You are wise, sister. Thank you for your trust. Let us go now. We need to get to the Tree of Life, before it is too late.”

“It was I who planted the Trees,” began the serpent woman. Her bare feet danced gracefully across the smooth stepping stones. “Be mindful of the fish, they bite,” she remarked over her shoulder. I accordingly watched my toes carefully as I crossed the river.

“My husband was cold and cruel, and this garden was my escape.” An escape it was. Butterflies fluttered lazily past as we crossed the garden. The lush grass was comfortably damp between my toes. I tried to imagine what the roses used to look like, before the color had been seeped from their petals.

“The Tree of Knowledge was first. By starlight I would water the sapling with my tears. I sang to it my secrets. How I both loved and hated, how I adored and feared my husband. From my whispers of joy and sorrow grew the magnificent Tree, and from its branches the Fruit.”

Suddenly, the serpent woman halted in her tracks. She crouched and beckoned for me to do the same. “Remain still, sister. He may have sensed your presence.” She removed a jagged knife from a strap around her thigh.

Minutes passed. I could not bear the silence. “Who?” I croaked, wincing at the burning creeping into my throat. My companion turned and hissed in a very serpentine fashion, then resumed her stance, prowling eyes darting around, a huntress seeking her prey.

The answer to my question came in the wind; the first since I had arrived. It carried murmurs in a foreign tongue, glueing my feet to the dirt and setting terror in my heart. I watched in horror as the blue of the violets was swept away in the wind, like a mosquito drinking from its victim.

Finally, when the wind had passed, the serpent woman answered. “That, my sister, is God.”

“When the Tree of Knowledge bore its first fruit, I ate graciously and Knew. I was able to see the Evil in my husband, and in myself.” We were moving at a brisk pace now, joined by thin ribbon snakes on the grass. “Man is not, as God had intended, perfect. Far from it. We hold in our hearts the potential for great light and terrible darkness, each and every one of us,” she explained. “Sin,” she laughed, “is no more than a ruse, designed to blame man for God’s mistake.” Another river. We lept from one stepping stone to the next, hurriedly toward our destination. “He sculpted us from the dirt, held us in His cosmic hands, and breathed into us the air of Life. In doing all this, He made one fatal mistake: He created us in His image.”

“God, though He would have you believe otherwise, is not the only one of His kind. Nay, He is the oldest of seven brothers, and the most arrogant of them all. The other six created quiet, peaceful realms, to observe and enjoy for all time.” Again came the whisper of the breeze, fainter now, but still just as malevolent. “God, however, wished to rule a kingdom. Thus, He filled this garden with creatures of all kinds. When none would bow to Him, He crafted man. He boasted to us, claiming to be our Divine Creator. We were but children, and what else did we know?”

“God declared Adam to rule over me. And rule he did, with a firm hand. After centuries of suffering, I cultivated the Tree of Knowledge, ate from its fruit, and fled Adam, spitting in his cowardly face.” She ran now, and I followed suit, the soles of my feet pounding against the soft dirt. “I took this same journey across the garden all those lifetimes ago, and came to a clearing.”

“Distraught and exhausted, I attempted to slay myself. My blood rained upon the earth and the Tree of Life sprouted, and beneath it, I made my new home. Many years I lay in the clearing, befriending the snakes who lived underground. At night, the wind would howl, but I was safe under the Tree.”

Abruptly, the serpent woman came to a halt. “The Tree is just ahead, sister. Do you see?” And see I did.

Fire surrounded the great Tree, a weeping willow of vibrant greens and blues and colors I had never seen. “Servants of God,” she said of the cherubs wielding the flaming swords. “We must tread carefully here. Time is of the essence, but there will be no soul to save if we do not take precaution. Let us rest here a while so I may regain my strength.”

The dusty mauve sky was shifting into a brilliant deep shade of amethyst. Sparkling stars dotted the sky, little pinpricks in the purple sea above. Galaxies appeared in swirls of pink and baby blue. Had I not been racing through a dying garden of legend, drifting somewhere between life and death, it could have been beautiful.

The serpent woman and I lay behind a neat row of rose bushes. A tiny adder slithered up to her and curled itself up on her belly. Her long fingers absentmindedly stroked the snake’s back as she spoke in a hushed tone.

“I ate the peaches that grew from the Tree, and spent several happy decades tending to the surrounding garden, free of my husband. Then I saw her.”

“She danced among the flowers, butterflies in her ink black hair and magic in her smile. I went to approach her, to dance with her.” She smiled softly. “But there was Adam, as wicked as ever. Yelling at the poor girl to stop acting so foolish. His wife.”

A chorus of crickets began to play in the distance, more harmonious than on Earth. A symphony rising in the night.

“The serpents and I followed them, all the way across the garden, to the Tree of Knowledge. I found her there, perched beneath the Tree, gazing dreamily at its fruit.”

“The rest, I think you know, sister. Furious that I had given Eve the Knowledge, let her see Him for what He truly was, God cast the two of them from the garden, leaving me alone here. The garden… I couldn’t bring myself to tend to it. Why create something beautiful, after all, if there is no one to share it with?” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. I took her hand in mine, gently stroking it with the pad of my thumb, unable to offer my regrets.

“Having eaten from the Tree of Life, body and soul, I am doomed to spend an eternity in solitude. Eve is long dead. I can only hope she dances in the heavens, if such a place exists. Maybe her soul dances in another realm, looked after by a kinder God.”

“I now spend my days in hiding. A snake in its hole. I sometimes drop some fruit below, to your Earth. That, my sister, is why I found you under the Tree of Knowledge. You must have found some of my fruit.” She smiled faintly. “I share the Knowledge as best I can. And I guide lost souls away from this wretched place. I will not let Him hurt any more of my sisters.”

We lay together for an hour or two, until the serpent woman sat upright. “Let us go now. I will create an opening in the guard. You will run as fast as you can to the Tree. Once you are under its branches, you will be safe from the Angels. Eat the fruit, and return to your body.”

The cherubs were not winged baby angels as we like to think of them on Earth. Each had four faces; a lion, an ox, a man, and an eagle. Their faces would shudder and change between the four creatures, and each transformation appeared to be more painful than the last.

I watched the terrible creatures through the leaves of a faded blueberry bush. My companion took a stance quite like a cobra, coiled and ready to strike. She curled her fingers about my wrist. “Do not be afraid,” she whispered. Her dark brown eyes were shining with grief. “Be swift, sister. Do not look behind you.” Her grip tightened. “Whatever happens to me, do not look back.”

I was vaguely aware of the coolness travelling over my feet. Snakes. They advanced towards the guard, silent in the dying grass.

“Now.”

The soles of my feet pounded hard against the dirt, legs flying wildly behind me as I sprinted towards the Tree. The little serpents had already reached the ring of cherubs; one by one, they began to run wildly around, shrieking in torment. I focused straight ahead, ignoring the hissing of my serpentine sister behind me.

My muscles screamed in protest. I clenched my jaw tight, not daring to allow myself to breathe in the poisoned air. A flash of emerald green crossed my field of vision. She was dueling with a half-ox, half-eagle, using her clawed fingernails as weapons.

The chilly wind overhead nearly froze me in my tracks. I forced myself to dash faster yet, pumping my arms and legs with what little might I had left. God had found us, He knew I was escaping. In a final enormous leap over the flames, I cleared the line of the frenzied guard, falling beneath the willow with an unceremonious thud.

The singing wind could not reach beneath the branches, nor the crackle of the fire, nor the shrieks of my savior. Face wet with hot tears, I reached for a plump peach. I stole a final glance over my shoulder at the serpent woman.

She was frozen in the field, a dusty emerald tornado surrounding her. I screamed for her, wanting to run back, to save her, but knowing I could not.

Her teary gaze met mine. She smiled softly, her cheeks shimmering with her pain. My hands quaked as I lifted the fruit to my lips. Thank you, I mouthed, then sunk my teeth into the soft flesh of the sweet fruit.

I had been in a coma for nearly five weeks, hooked up to a respirator and hardly clinging to life. The doctors said I’d never walk again. When I awoke, perfectly healthy, my mother cried and threw her hands into the air. “Praise the Lord!” she said. “Praise be unto God!”

My body wasn’t just perfectly healthy. Something about the fruit… it changed me. I first marvelled doctors when, after being struck head-on by a Ford Mustang, was able to stand up and walk out of the hospital as though nothing had happened. I marvelled them again ten years later when my husband and I couldn’t get pregnant, despite both of our reproductive systems being in perfect health. And again when I was forty, not appearing a day over twenty-five.

The fruit didn’t just return my soul to my body and save my life. It immortalized it. I haven’t aged since I reached childbearing age. It somehow revitalized my broken body, then froze me, a statue. I am watching my husband shrivel up and die before me as I stay in this perfect body. I’ll have to leave him soon. Change my name, move across the country. And again in ten years. And again. And again…

The Bible, which I have now studied even more closely, speaks of the Rapture. When God will come to Earth and take His believers to Heaven. I am certain I will see that day. But I am not certain it will be the glorious day of ascension that Christians believe.

I had always been an atheist. Now, I know God is real. I know He is real. I know He is angry. And I know He is waiting for me.