#hm still even if they weren't you could derive such a conclusion i think

[radio-sepia]

shizzle i’m having such a moment rn

ANALYSIS COMIN THROUGH

currently reading ‘the sacred and the profane’ (good omens fanfic by afrai) and listening to ‘looking back is blinding’ (chrome canyon)

and shiz okay apart from the fact that this music piece is literally perfect anytime i listen to it, now I keep thinking of it as the embodiment of Capriel’s arc, or rather, his relationship with Zirah; i get quite similar vibes from both those pieces.

because really ‘looking back...‘ for me, feels like there’s nothing left for you. you’re walking, and walking, and walking and there is no end in sight. every step you take is full of pain, but you keep going anyway. stuck in a loop of the same decision, over and over AND OVER AGAIN. you keep going, even though you KNOW you're actually going.. backwards. you're making no progress, and the only thing you're doing is hurting yourself, but you can't stop. doing what you're doing is the only comfort you have. and there is some small part of you that still holds on to hope, that maybe if you try hard enough, it will get better. as if that part had anything to hold on to. you tried to rip that hope out of yourself so many times, but apparently you can't. maybe it's the only thing keeping you alive.

and that's how i see Capriel. the only thing of value he has in his life is Zirah; and since the latter is deep into trauma induced psychopathic-like mindset characterised by zero empathy for anyone except Capriel and acts of bloodcurdling violence done without so much as a hint of remorse... yeah, you could totally equate the toxicity of that relationship with a 'bucket of carcinogen' as done so in the fic. and he keeps it up. he can't help falling back into Zirah's arms, can't help the comfort that it brings him, even though with that comes sorrow and grief and agony. he desperately wants Zirah to be different, to heal, but he knows it's practically impossible since Zirah doesn't express any interest in changing himself. but that little hope is still there, hovever small and awful. like a knife leaving him bleeding every single time the same thought enters his mind. 'he'll always be like this'.

but if he were to end it, nothing would remain. an angel, unable to die, among humans who come and go, among angels stuck in their superiority and petty rivarly with Hell, with God that doesn't seem to care about any of Her children...