#i have come to the conclusion that if heaven exists

[jeanisnotahorse]

welcome home, jean

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff) 

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcast their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower… 

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better. 

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises. 

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep. 

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges. 

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you. 

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you. 

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible. 

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel. 

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams. 

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment. 

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it. 

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him. 

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you. 

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick. 

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[onceuponapuffin]

Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands

So, especially in the early days after the release of S2, I saw and heard a lot of people comparing these two as if they were the same. There were fan comics and fanart and fanfiction that included dialogue that was something along the lines of "why are they so healthy after only a few years and we aren't?" or "why do THEY get a happy ending and we don't?" And I mean, I haven't seen any of that in a while so maybe people have come to this conclusion on their own, but just in case, I wanted to point out

That they are fundamentally different. They are not the same.

And the reason why comes down to this conversation from 2x3:

So, hold this conversation in your brain while we go through this.

First of all, we have our Ineffable Bureaucracy, Gabriel and Beelzebub.

So these are the ones who, figuratively speaking, were born in a castle.

Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel for however many millenia, and Beelzebub was the Grand Duke of Hell for the same, roughly speaking. They are equals in positions of power.

So, when they fall in love, you have two supernatural authorities who have lived their existences believing that they can reasonably expect to have and keep whatever they want. After all, that's exactly what their lives have been (with the one exception being Beelzebub's Fall) - they want something, they get it, they keep it, and no one tells them no.

The biggest risk is to Gabriel. If Heaven were to find out, he would Fall. I can imagine Beelzebub being a bit concerned, but "Oh no," Gabriel probably figured "I Fall to Hell, and straight into your arms!" And I could see Beelzebub with a little smirk saying "I'd look after you, babe," in response.

The only time Gabriel actually worries is when he finds out that there's another punishment that he didn't realize was a possibility.

Falling to Hell is one thing, but having his memories erased is an actual threat, and possibly the first time he's ever been told no. This is when we see him panic, and leave Heaven in a mess, storing his memories away to keep them safe from the Metatron. We find out later that he was on his way to Hell anyway and just forgot halfway there and got lost.

And so, we have two beings who were always told they were Good Enough, who approached each other knowing they were able to have whatever they wanted, and were therefore able to communicate and fall in love in a healthy way. They didn't need to tip toe or hide, because they had no reason to believe anyone would ever tell them no until someone did. Their risk, because of their positions of authority, wasn't nearly as great as Aziraphale and Crowley's risk.

So now we come to our Precious Ineffable Husbands

Crowley and Aziraphale start off in much lower positions on the Celestial Food Chain. We know that they have to be very careful about their relationship to avoid the repercussions. They can't mention The Arrangement out loud, they can't put their feelings for each other into words. It has been made clear to them that they are always being watched, and anything they have can be taken away from them on a whim.

So how can they communicate safely when they've spent millenia living on eggshells and tightropes? Of course they won't, and of course it's going to be much harder for them to believe they can once they finally are safe. I definitely believe that they will get there (for my own wellbeing I have to believe that their love is stronger than anything), but they will need to fight tooth and nail in a way that Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't. All because they aren't figures of authority.

It might honestly be another good argument for Crowley taking the Grand Duke of Hell job (even though I reeeeaaaally don't want him to). It would put them in the same position as Gabriel and Beelzebub, and might give them the footing to actually escape the system (even though I think it's more likely that they're going to dismantle and/or repair the system in s3, but that's my own opinion).

These two pairs aren't mirrors of each other. Rather, they illustrate the problems with inequity that Crowley was pointing out in Edinburgh. And if S2 showed us that, I'm hoping S3 will show us possible solutions for it.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (23)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, manipulation, blackmailing and threats ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Alys had always known that, like any bastard child, she could only rely on herself. Her existence was merely an unfortunate accident to her father and brothers, with which they nevertheless came to terms, and she, in their minds, should be grateful for being allowed to stay and serve in Harrenhal.

Indeed, she never considered herself to have been significantly harmed by fate.

Compared to women who had to sell their bodies for money in order to survive, her function as herbalist and wet nurse completely satisfied her.

Milk filled her breasts along with the baby that one of the guards had put inside her. When he pressed her against the wall and lifted her gown, panting that he had desired her for a long time she did not stand up to him, even helping him by bending over and spreading the folds of her womanhood before him so that he could more easily hit the right spot with the thick tip of his length.

This particular man never aroused her desire, however, he supervised her chambers, and since she allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of her body, he closed his eyes to when and where she went out, giving her more freedom.

His wife, however, was not comforted by the fact that her husband had a mistress.

She could not conclude that her husband was a good lover; his hands only clenched greedily on her firm breasts, his thrusts violent, fast and deep. She knew that as he chased his fulfilment hissing that he would fill her with his seed, it did not even cross his mind to touch her between her thighs or ask what would give her pleasure.

She did not, however, resent him.

She recognised that this was how men were.

Although she tried not to think about it, the sight of his wife, one of her father's servants, filled her with remorse, for although she knew that this woman did not love him, she humiliated her every time she took away what belonged to her.

She had nothing to justify it, but she knew that if she told him to stop she would arouse his anger and his behaviour towards her would change.

He might want to take revenge on her for rejecting him.

She couldn't allow this to happen.

What he didn't know was that he wasn't the only man she allowed to sink between her thighs for the benefit; it was easier and sometimes even more enjoyable than trying to bribe them with money, which she didn't have much of anyway. What she was able to do perfectly was to observe people from the sidelines − their reactions and desires, coming to her own conclusions about what they needed and wanted.

Usually these men wanted not only sensation and elation, but also reassurance, a warm word and understanding; they lay with their faces cuddled between her breasts, muttering for her to stroke their heads, and she did so, allowing them to turn from men into innocent children for a moment.

The women in the fortress began to whisper among themselves that the ease with which she seduced men and with which she maintained her beauty despite her age was due to the fact that she was a witch.

She smiled piteously as she strolled through the corridors of the fortress, overhearing their conversations from afar, hearing about the potions she gave to poor, unaware men so they could not forget her, that she bathed in milk and blood to keep her face young and bright.

She did not deny the accusations, because she derived satisfaction from the fact that they feared and avoided her.

Fear, however, also tended to provoke interest and curiosity, and the young, newly arrived servants who were just learning their trade could not tell what they thought of her.

When she needed a break from the men's sweat and their aggressive, deep thrusts she sought peace and solace in the arms of young girls, much more gentle and understanding when it came to the nature of female fulfilment, their sweet moans and surprised expressions as she caressed them made her feel a pleasant pulsation between her thighs.

Although the prospect of becoming a mother did not fill her with particular joy, when she woke up one morning, feeling a pool of wetness under her thighs and saw blood, the squeeze in her throat and the tears she felt under her eyelids were proof that some part of her hoped she could love this innocent creature that was growing inside her womb.

This did not happen, however, and she, not wanting to waste her milk, from which her breasts had already swollen, decided to feed the children whose mothers had too little nourishment.

She considered her life quite prosperous and peaceful until her father and half-brother died in a fire.

Until Larys became the Lord of Harrenhal.

Everyone, including her, feared him.

He was like a writhing viper, tightening slowly around the necks of those who aroused his suspicions, his gaze black and completely blank, as if he experienced nothing, felt nothing inside himself.

He could not be seduced, appeased, pleaded with, persuaded.

He was like a stone, merciless, cruel, taking satisfaction in domination and power.

She never got in his way.

One evening, however, he summoned her to his chamber, and she feared what he desired.

When she stepped inside he was sitting at the table, having just eaten his evening meal. He smiled slightly at her in a way that made her feel the cold sweat on her back; his eyes remained indifferent, glowing mischievously in the firelight.

"Sit down, sister. I wish to discuss something with you." He said softly, and she swallowed hard, keeping an indifferent, satisfied face, looking at him from under half-closed eyelids. She sat down opposite him in one of the chairs, spreading out comfortably in her seat, sighing quietly and nodded for him to speak.

"We will have guests of honour. Prince Aemond and his wife will be arriving here within two days to spend the night here and then head off the next morning to meet Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." He said calmly, putting a few pieces of cake from the tray onto his plate, with a hand gesture he encouraged her to eat as well, but she shook her head, analysing his words quickly.

She had heard of them.

Prince Aemond had married and taken his niece's maidenhood on the same night he chose Maris Baratheon as his wife.

His brother the King, to save the situation, married them in the eyes of the Seven before an enraged Borros Baratheon could arrive in King's Landing demanding justice.

There would not have been all the commotion if Prince Aemond had taken her as his second wife, but he clearly only wished to have one, therefore, Maris was sent away with only a dowry and humiliation.

Her half-brother continued, seeing the lack of response on her part.

"I want you to host them well. Both of them, if you understand what I have in mind. Myself and his grandfather do not believe in the success of their mission. Like most of the kingdom we know how it will end: with a war. A war we wish to win. However, our Prince, if I may say so, does not think with his mind now, but rather with what he has between his thighs. He gives in to his wife and her persuasions to bring about a reconciliation. I know you are well acquainted with human nature and will surely win both her trust and his heart."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked at her fingers, trying to hide the horror and squeeze in her stomach she felt.

He wanted to expose her, to put her head under the Prince's sword if it turned out that her attempts would only enrage him, and he could wash his hands of everything.

"In any case, in a few days' time the matter of the succession will resolve itself with the help of my birds in the Eyrie. They know what to do. Of course, I'll let our Prince believe that his decision matters, however, everything is already arranged. I hope this should settle the matter. With the help of the gods, the girl might try to take her own life for the second time. Let us raise our cups for that." He said lightly, as if indeed such a course of events would please him the most; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking that she had not even noticed when he had become such a disgusting creature.

A monster that, like a black, empty hole, was consuming everything around him, destroying it and crushing it.

She wasn't in a position to refuse, and he knew it.

That was why she walked out with him to greet their guests, thinking she would simply do what he ordered her to do.

She blinked as the figure of a petite, pretty girl jumped down from the shimmering blue and silver dragon, her long, dark hair of a shade similar to hers tied into a braid, its unruly strands dishevelled by the long journey through the skies.

She stepped out in front of them, breathing heavily, her eyes big, full of curiosity and uncertainty, her gaze warm, kind, her cheeks all flushed from exertion. She stopped in front of them and forced herself into an innocent, almost childlike smile, from which she felt a squeeze in her gut.

Gods, have mercy.

"Your Grace. What a joy." Said her brother. The girl blinked, not knowing for a moment what to answer, shifting from foot to foot.

"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She muttered at last, clearly tense − her was voice pleasant, melodious, soft, the kind that gives comfort with ease, brings peace of mind.

They all turned their faces towards the approaching figure as they heard his footsteps; Prince Aemond in his long black leather coat and black eye patch indeed looked like someone menacing, commanding, as powerful as the great dragon he was riding.

What immediately caught her attention was that as his gaze traveled over their faces he stopped at his wife, assessing her figure from afar as if quickly examining whether she had suffered any damage after such a long journey and whether she was well.

He must have evidently concluded that she was, for his gaze turned after a moment towards her brother.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

The Prince and her brother moved first, followed by his wife, looking around the interior of their fortress with genuine curiosity, not even listening to what her brother was saying.

She didn't even notice that her uncle was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, checking that she was near and in no danger.

She thought he would sooner stab her in the heart than take her to his bed.

Her brother opened the door of the chamber that had been prepared for him, the largest in the entire fortress, not coincidentally located close to hers. The Prince, however, did not look impressed; his lips pressed into a thin line in disapproval when he heard that Lord Strong had assigned his wife other quarters.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said coolly, as if the very suggestion was offensive and insulting to him.

He had kept her with him the whole time, she thought in disbelief, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl standing next to her.

She stood, gazing at her uncle as if she were looking at a statue of one of the gods; her bright, shining eyes large and filled with affection, devotion, longing, even though, after all, he was standing in front of her, at her fingertips.

She realised, swallowing quietly, that he had not taken her by force the night he married her or any night after.

How long had they looked at each other like this?

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." Her brother replied.

Prince Aemond then looked at his niece with a gaze as if he was about to explode − his wife pressed her lips into a thin line, immediately understanding what the expression on his face was meant to convey to her, her look of understanding and sigh was meant to add to his patience.

His gaze softened and after a moment he nodded, letting her go.

The girl looked at her, so she smiled quickly and pointed with her hand the way they should go to her quarters. Before moving behind her she looked at her husband, the Prince leading her away with a cold, sharp gaze.

Overwhelmed by this revelation, no longer knowing herself what she thought of it or what she should do in such a situation, she simply followed her into the room, closing the door behind her. She watched quietly as the prince's wife walked to the window, placing her hand on the glass, and smiled slightly, noticing something outside.

Had she been like this all the time?

"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, Your Grace?" She asked finally, recognising that she needed to start any light conversation, to try and understand who was standing in front of her.

The girl shuddered and blinked, as if forgetting her presence for a moment, turning to face her. She nodded, forcing herself to smile, unsure and embarrassed, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex.

"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked lightly and kindly, willingly shortening the distance between them, which surprised her.

Usually women of her ilk took satisfaction in calling her Lady Rivers, reminding her every time that she was a bastard.

But she, even if she was married to the Prince, was also one.

She was her relative, her brother's daughter.

She swallowed hard at that thought, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

"Alys, Your Grace."

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering something for a moment, and then her bright eyes looked at her again.

She thought with pain that she was like a small flower, a daisy or a forget-me-not, which one picked to weave into one's hair, to feel as innocent as a little child again.

"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She muttered with some sort of embarrassment, from which she involuntarily burst out laughing.

Good gods.

"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She said softly, amused; her gaze shifted, her brow furrowed in concern and curiosity.

She knew what she was going to ask her, she could feel it in her bones.

"Did you know my father?"

She named him as her father even though she was officially Laenor Velaryon's daughter.

She admitted to her that she too was a bastard without a grimace of embarrassment.

"Yes, Princess."

Her whole body tensed, her hands clenched into fists.

"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, and her lips involuntarily lifted in a dangerous smirk at the thought that her directness was surprising her.

Was this how she spoke to her husband?

Was this how she forced her way into his heart?

"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, Your Grace."

A silence fell between them filled with the weight of their words and what they meant; she licked her lips involuntarily, feeling that she was incapable of denying herself the pleasure of having to see her reaction to her words.

To see if she was right.

"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She said with amusement, feeling a tingle in her fingertips and in her lower abdomen at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean?" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed; however, it was not shame feigned and exalted, but more an expression of genuine surprise and excitement at her words.

"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said calmly, turning her head away, immersed in her own thoughts.

"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."

She looked at her, wanting to see her reaction, and sighed almost imperceptibly, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at the sight of her parted, plump lips, her dreamy, hot gaze.

She knew that she had felt something at her words, that it had taken deep root in her heart and made her return with her thoughts to her husband.

Was this how she had looked at him when he made love to her?

She could not imagine that he could take her maidenhood brutally and cruelly, that he would allow her to cry beneath him in pain.

No, she thought − he surely took her with slow, lazy thrusts of his hips, letting her get used to his shape deep inside her, assuring her in a whisper that just a little more.

She felt a strong throbbing and tickling between her thighs at that thought and licked her lips, looking up at her again − her gaze lowered meekly to the stone floor, a soft, thoughtful smile on her face.

She decided on second thought, helping her change into one of her gowns, touching her soft skin, smelling the wonderful scent of vanilla in her nostrils, that she would braid the most elaborate hairstyle she could think of on her head, just so she wouldn't have to leave her chamber before supper.

She knew that her half-brother expected her to then take the opportunity to venture into the Prince's chambers to make sure he was not missing anything.

Therefore, she began to braid her soft, long, dark hair, creating a beautiful, complicated hairstyle surrounding her head.

She escorted her to the proper quarters and bowed, Larys gave her one impatient look.

She felt a cold sweat on her back, leaving immediately.

He was not pleased.

She thanked the gods that the Prince's wife had summoned her herself, wishing her help with her bath, giving her another reason not to head to her husband's chambers.

She thought that if she went on like this perhaps the situation would work out in such a way that she simply wouldn't have the opportunity to do anything, though even if she did she wasn't sure Larys would believe her.

As she walked into her chamber she saw that she herself was trying to untie her bodice, so she approached her, undoing the tangles with ease, looking at her face with curiosity.

"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, Your Grace?" She asked softly, noticing from the corner of her eye that the girl had lowered her gaze, ashamed and saddened.

"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said with resignation, and she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face.

Of course, she thought.

The sight of her loose hair reminded him fondly of how it had been spread in disarray around her head, shining in the darkness of his chamber as he fucked her greedily.

"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, for some reason wanting to lift her spirits and comfort her; she heard her move in place, the sweet blush appearing on her cheeks again.

She was embarrassed, she thought with disbelief and tenderness, as if she were looking at a small child.

She was so innocent.

Was that what attracted him to her?

The idea that he was surrounding her with himself like a dark cloak, devouring her again and again?

"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She heard her uncertain, curious voice; she looked at her in the reflection of the mirror, noticing that she immediately lowered her gaze, as if she could not bear the intensity with which she was looking at her.

"Yes, Princess."

"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked intrigued, and she smiled again involuntarily.

"Yes."

When her gown finally fell to the floor she saw her girlish, pleasing curves peeking through from under her nightgown. She watched as, with a light, confident step, she walked over to the bath and bore herself into the hot water, tilting her head back, sighing in relief, her head still adorned with the braids she had woven herself.

Such a pretty little thing.

"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled out at last, looking at her with those big, warm eyes of hers, seeing in her apparently her guide, someone who could help her with these complicated and intimate matters.

She felt a pleasant squeeze in her lower abdomen at the idea that popped into her head.

"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied amused, drawing out of her exactly the reaction she wanted − her cheeks turned scarlet, her gaze fled downwards, her tiny long fingers clenched into small fists.

She was wonderfully embarrassed, so sweet that he would have gladly shown her everything, step by step.

"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, and she involuntarily licked her lower lip with her tongue, feeling the throbbing between her thighs at her words, her nipples hardening under the material of her gown.

Gods.

"I see." She muttered, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad as she moved slowly towards her, her surprised gaze lifting to her as she knelt right next to her tub, cupping her wrist in her hand.

Her skin was as soft as silk.

Her gaze escaped involuntarily to her breasts, now perfectly visible through the wet material of her shirt clinging to her bare flesh; she felt a tickle in her swollen lips at the thought that she longed to lick and caress them.

She was sure that as he teased and sucked her nipples she moaned sweetly beneath him, begging for more, and he always, always gave in to her.

Because how could he refuse her?

"I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, Your Grace."

She saw her pupils dilate in disbelief, her lips parted as she swallowed hard, her chest beginning to rise and fall in accelerated breaths.

"…How?"

She couldn't stop the smirk that appeared on her lips, nor what she did next.

She heard her sigh quietly, surprised and thrilled when her lips ran over her pointing finger, enveloping her skin with her hot breath.

"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman shows them with gentle, tender caresses." She whispered, running her swollen lips up and down her finger leaving a sticky, warm trail of her saliva on it, surprised at how wet it made her between her thighs, how wonderfully arousing it was, how obscene it was.

She heard her draw in a deep breath without moving away, but as she guided the tip of her finger between her lips, teasing and licking it lightly with her tongue, out of the corner of her eye she noticed that her thighs clenched in some helpless, subconscious reflex.

What other reactions could she draw from her?

"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She sighed quietly as she suddenly slipped her whole finger deep into her mouth, feeling her swollen folds pulsate hard again and again as she began to suck it in slow, steady movements with the quiet click of her saliva.

She heard her gasp on the verge of a moan as her tongue began to trail over her skin with her low murmur of satisfaction, her free hand involuntarily sliding down to the material of her gown, wanting to slip under it and bring herself to fulfilment with her own touch.

She slipped her finger out of her mouth with a loud plop and looked up at her − her face all flushed, her gaze dreamy, hesitant and warm, as if she herself didn't know what she felt or why.

Something in her gaze made a pleasurable heat spill over her lower abdomen as she dug her own fingers into her fleshy folds, all sticky with her moisture, pulsing aggressively with her every stroke in pleasure.

"− you pretty little thing − it’s usually him taking care of you, isn’t it? − he can’t deny himself − I can’t blame him −" She whispered, trying not to move her hips so that she wouldn't notice anything; she lost the battle with herself as she felt herself getting closer and closer to fulfilment, pushing against her own slit with the tips of her fingers.

Unfortunately, it turned out that her husband was more vigilant than she thought.

When he burst into his wife's chamber she barely had time to remove her hand from under her own skirt and let go of her, standing quickly and bowing before him.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled, and she walked out obediently, grateful in spirit to the gods that he hadn't stopped her to question her, that he hadn't noticed the glistening wetness on her fingers.

Or he saw it and it infuriated him, she thought with amusement, feeling her heart pounding like a mad in her chest.

She finished what she had started in her chamber, bringing herself to fulfilment with sure, swift strokes of her fingers, driving their tips into her sensitive, fleshy womanhood, able now to afford to moan and rock her hips, imagining her body peeking through from under her wet nightgown.

She imagined that she knelt before him to lunge and soothe him, that she barely fit his fat cock in her small mouth, all swollen from the desire she had always aroused in him, that this proud, dark, cold man whimpered before her like a small, innocent boy when he finally gave in, thrusting again and again deep into her warm throat.

She came with a low moan of relief, panting heavily, hugging her face into the pillow, rocking her hips for a while longer, slowly coming down from her peak.

She was sure that as she lay half asleep, feeling a blissful, pleasant peace, she heard their moans in the distance and grinned involuntarily.

Of course he forgave her.

He always did.

She often had dreams whose meaning she did not understand; she saw people she had never met before, observing events that might as well have happened in the future or in the past. That night, however, her dream particularly troubled and worried her, as she had no idea what it actually meant.

Two streams of blood finally merging into one, flowing like a river, which then, however, became a lake that reminded her of a dragon's head in a crown, only to spill over after a while, and she saw nothing but red.

Was this what was about to happen?

Would Princess Rheanyra and Prince Daemon be murdered and another dragon's reign begin upon their blood?

She swallowed hard, thinking of that young, cheerful girl, of how obvious it was that she was not aware of anything, that whatever her uncle-husband knew, he had not shared it with her.

She thought that if he betrayed her, she would wilt like a flower, fade like the sun in a setting sky.

She stood up and headed for his chamber.

His gaze expressed nothing less than disgust and rage at the sight of her. He reached for his tunic, dressing it hurriedly, tense and pale, knowing full well what was to happen if the negotiations did not bring the results he hoped for.

She wondered if he realised that even if he didn't give the order, they would be murdered anyway.

"You will betray her." She said indifferently, and he threw her a quick, horrified look, his nostrils quivering in disbelief.

He knew perfectly well what she was referring to.

She thought that sometimes all it took was a gentle push, putting a mirror in front of someone's face to make them think carefully again about whether they were ready for the consequences of their choices.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

She said and grinned, seeing that he shuddered all over, that his mask had cracked, his lips parted as if he wanted to groan in despair.

She knew he saw it in his mind, felt it in his heart, and she left his chamber without a word.

She let out a loud breath as she walked down the empty corridor, thinking with some kind of hope that her words, the vision she had invented to break him would terrify him enough to make him fall to his knees before his wife and confess everything he knew.

And if he doesn't, if in fact he betrays her, it will prove that he was never worthy of her.

She had come to her summons when she wished to clothe herself; she saw, crossing the threshold of her quarters, that she too was frightened and anxious, only for completely different reasons.

She wished for them to come to an understanding.

She believed it was possible.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought, at the realisation that she was alone in a world where everyone but her craved war, craved power, craved the throne.

She did not look at her face, at the clear command of her husband not allowing herself any closer proximity to her, which she accepted with understanding.

After she had fastened the buckles of her leather coat, however, she allowed herself to take her soft hand in her own, stroking it with her thumb.

She hesitated and furrowed her brow, but before she could move away, she began to speak, forcing herself to whisper, fearing that her brother's servants might have heard her.

"Do not return here. Fly from the Eyrie straight to King's Landing. I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown. I saw red flooding everything around me." She said quickly, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

She thought in disbelief that she pitied this girl.

"This warning, these words, are my gift to you. Look after yourself. Trust no one."

[liulith]

Sir Pentious & Alastor: an underrated dynamic

"Show yourself, Alastor! Come and face--! Oh, there you are. FACE MY WRATH!"

Sir Pentious has been in Hell for much longer than Alastor. That means he was there when the Radio Demon appeared, and he's been trying to overthrow Alastor for decades! We know what Alastor is capable of, and what he could do if he truly wanted Sir Pentious to stop. He obviously doesn't register Sir Pentious as a threat, but that doesn't mean he's not annoying (like when he interrupts his song in the pilot and destroys a wall in ep2). Yet in all those decades, Alastor always let him go with the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, considering what he's done to other sinners in his broadcasts.

And why is that? Why, he must find Sir Pentious very entertaining, of course! Even though he calls Sir Pentious forgettable (to rile him up), there's no way a narcissist like him doesn't LOVE being the main focus of Pentious' "evil plans", as pathetic as they are. Not only does he give him the attention he deserves (like Vox), he's a true "architect of evil" who constantly reinvents himself to try and get the upper hand on Alastor. To Alastor, Pentious is like a sillier, weaker, more immature version of Vox with close to ZERO survival instincts but twice the creativity. Even Vox, who made a whole diss track about Al, wouldn't dare speak to him the way Sir Pentious does if they were face to face.

"SILENCE! Now cower! For when I've ssslain you, the almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me as their equal."

He does have some "oh shit" moments when he sees he crossed a line/is about to get Team Rocket-ed, but he still gets back up and attacks him again with all the unearned confidence of a man who has no idea how easy Alastor goes on him.

Just like Alastor, Pentious is attached to the aesthetics and technology of the time period he knew when he was alive, and still manages to innovate with those limitations. I think Alastor could respect that.

"You whores have no class! In war, the side remembered is the side with the most style!"

It's also funny that to Pentious, Alastor is the young, modern one. Some phrases Alastor uses are "young people slang" to him!

Pentious asking Alastor questions on his "modern" radio technology...

Alastor is one sarcastic bastard, and Sir Pent is one of the most naive characters in the show. He takes a lot of things way too literally (#autism?). That's just PERFECT for comedic misunderstandings between these two!

Before s1 was released there were quite a lot of ace!Pentious headcanons. I think we could still make a case for closeted ace-adjacent!Pentious in canon! Possibility even aroace!Pentious, if we interpret his crush on Cherri as compulsive heteronormativity (he loves her creative genius and is fascinated by her explosive contraptions; surely that means she's the one, right?)

Ace4Ace Alastor & Pentious would be a fun duo in my opinion. They could bond over their shared experience

On the topic of bonding... ("I have feelings for you" (Narrator voice: the feeling was friendship, but he had ever experienced it before)

Seriously, imagine Sir Pentious spending more and more time around Alastor because of the hotel, taking his sarcastic and mocking remarks literally and thinking they're becoming closer... And then being like. WAIT. Do I have feelings for him?? and trying to seduce him like he does with Cherri Bomb. The absolute shenanigans... Rizzlord Pentious strikes again.

Accidental fake dating scenario that only exists in Vox's head, where Vox, being the stalker that he is, spies in the two of them bonding and reaches all the wrong conclusions

Once Sir Pentious dies for the second time and ascends to Heaven, he could meet Alastor's mom 👀

EDIT: OH and How could I forget the Egg Boiz?? Egg Boiz babysitter!Alastor is canon and he definitely babysat them multiple times in the few months Sir Pentious spent at the hotel. Joint custody :3

AND let's not forget the important information that Frank the Egg Boy reported to Sir Pentious lol. The one Charlie made a deal with Alastor for. I can imagine Alastor considering killing the Egg Boiz/ Sir Pentious after learning Frank didn't keep quiet (Imagine Sir Pentious trying to engage in a conversation w/ Alastor and telling him what Frank told him as a joke akfkkd), spending a whole afternoon trailing after them and making plans, only to realise that the Egg Boiz say insane shit all the time and Sir Pentious was in fact NOT playing 4D chess by telling him he knew (and probably already forgot all about it)

[cenorii]

I love Chriskers very much, so I needed a logical explanation for how they could be together again... English is not my native language, so there may be error rates in the text.

AU - SHARDS OF OBSIDIAN

I like to see a character completely fall when he loses everything he had. When his whole existence loses any meaning, and he becomes an empty place. I like to imagine if the character can handle it, or will he prefers oblivion.

He may have come out of shit before, but the total fall that destroyed him as a person is a new experience. Miraculously escaping death once again - which path would you choose? Resurrect again and keep doing things what will not work the third and fifth time? Something you don't see the point of anymore. Or will you try not to step on a rake? New way?

The rose-colored glasses you've been wearing all your life were broken. Lowered from heaven to earth. Ego is stuffed deep in the ass. There is nothing left of your personality, you do not see any value in yourself. You are nobody. And what will you do?

----

March 7, 2009. Chris finished with his sworn enemy, but this information was not reliable, because he made such conclusions knowing only his own truth. He saw it with his own eyes, but did not check. And now he will think so most of his life.

 But Wesker survived. Once in the past, he was proud of himself that he escaped death thanks to a prototype virus. But right now, he only wanted to die like a real loser. But he was stopped by Oswell E. Spencer 's words, spoken to him a couple of years ago.

 -You're the last one from "project W"

 He lost everything, even himself. Everything he believed in was drowned in lava. Nothing made sense, not even his own life. Although, he could not even take an ordinary step towards death, because he was lying exhausted on a piece of land in the middle of lava. Burnt, but unfortunately alive. He no longer felt superior. And anyway... has he ever won? Only Sergei Vladimir, right?

 Uroboros that got into his body during the final battle with Chris and Sheva cannot withstand high temperatures. Therefore, it was burned out of his body, which regenerated with the remnants of his strength thanks to the prototype virus. But even this power had a limit, because after two extra injections made by Chris, the prototype weakened and practically fell asleep in his body, depriving Wesker of his abilities. His body was fighting for life, but his mind did not want to live at all. Helpless, he could not even call himself a shadow of his former self.

Having lost all his strength, he realized how far he was from the God he considered himself to be. It was painful to realize. Weakness, never seen before, so unfamiliar, destroyed the remnants of personality inside his head.

 And the thought came up again.

 -You're the last one from "project W"

 The thought that he was the only one of his kind, the last one, pierced his head and tormented him.

Is there no one left?

He killed Spencer with his own hand, and the rest of the project members died from the prototype virus. But something inside him did not allow him to complete this story.

 Why do you live in the world now?

 His entire body was destroyed from a disorderly regeneration that was only an echo of the previous one. Over time, it also left him. The prototype, finally falling asleep, endowed Wesker with unprecedented side effects, which had previously been restrained by proper injections. Feeling them, he even remembered Lisa Trevor, over whom he no longer wanted to joke. He felt inferior to her. The most insignificant thing in the world.

And so, with an absolutely empty head and hatred for his insignificance, he rises to what is left of his legs. Perhaps his tenacity is the only good quality. He won't be as lucky as he is now. There was nothing more to lose, where would a new page of life take him now?

 His right arm moved erratically as he limped towards the fallen plane, and the remains of his left arm only dangled painfully. Wesker himself did not realize where the parts of his body were and did not immediately discover that something was missing.

"Auto... topagnosia...and alien hand syndrome?"

His head was damaged, but did not stop analyzing. Obsessive analysis, without a single outside thought. However, the damage doesn't the result of the battle, it was caused by regeneration. The prototype has always destroyed weak organisms and now its carrier was the weakest.

What keeps him alive? The thought that if he dies, he won't leave anything behind? Or this disgustingly burning self-hatred? A sense of value because he's the last one? Or maybe... a huge interest, where does it all lead?

 His body was so disfigured that by all parameters it should not have existed in the world of the living. How amazingly he seized on his existence.

"Trust no one" was his motto. In this form, Wesker could not call for help from someone who worked for him. If he wanted to survive now, he could not allow himself to be finished off like a dog knocked down on the road. Therefore, he had to keep his life a secret from everyone.

A clear line has been drawn between this Wesker and the past, because his personality has suffered incredibly.

 If the prototype virus once influenced his psychology, distancing him from everything human, now, freed from the influence of this virus, Wesker resembled an amoeba, because everything in which he was limited is now available again and very much atrophied. Even the desire for revenge did not seethe in him, because allowing himself such an emotion and not experiencing agony was a luxury for him.

 It could have been a redemption story, of which there are quite a few. But this person is not one of those who admit their mistakes. (Now he rather considers himself a mistake.) He not one of those who adequately understands morality, ethics. And what he did cannot be redeemed. This is a story about the complete destruction of man, about how he creates himself anew.

 Did he have a sense of the value of his own life? Probably, he will not spend any more seconds, from the ones given to him by fate, on useless or impossible plans. Because he is the last one.

Now, when his body is working to the limit, he cannot get up on the same rake.

What is its purpose? Survival for the first time. He will return to one of his bunkers, which no one knows about, and lock himself up in solitude.

 It always seemed strange and very limited to me that Alex, trying to create a new body for herself, turned to biology, and not to robotics. Perhaps she would have been more successful if she combined several directions. It is logical that the new Wesker would try something new to help himself, if he's not senile. Therefore, in this situation, he would combine biology and technology. But where does he get the details, even if we imagine that he understands it now? The answer is simple: a new life - a new personality. For starters, he needs equipment. Activity on his accounts would attract the attention of BSAA, so the account he uses must be corporate. It won't be suspicious. Rats are fleeing from the TRICELL ship and withdrawing money?

 When his body regains its working capacity, its next goal will be... nothing unusual. Nothing grandiose. He will become the real embodiment of neutrality, lost in his basement away from everyone. Until he reassembles himself. The fact is that it is not so easy to come up with a new goal in life when your previous goal, which you dreamed about for years, was trampled down, turned into nothing. They showed how imperfect your goal is and how naive you are. Therefore, the best plan for him now is not to have clear goals.

 The side effects that the dying prototype gave him inside may well be incurable. Because of Alien Hand Syndrome, he now and then performs actions that he has not control. And because of autotopagnosia, he has great difficulty perceiving the location of parts of his own body, at first he could not distinguish an arm from a leg, and an eye from a nose. If he were a sentimental person and if he considered himself guilty of something, he would consider it a punishment for everything he had done, but he did not think about it at all. Now he thought exclusively with tasks, logic, because the slightest emotionality caused a severe headache.

Sometimes he suffers from amnesia and loses any information from his mind before that battle in the volcano. He also often forgets this event.

He endlessly writes diaries when memory is restored, so as not to forget anything. In order not to forget that he represented something and perhaps even respected himself.

 Once.

 But not now.

 If Chris had seen him in such a state, he would have laughed, looking at how pathetic he was. He fancied himself a God, but in the end, what did he turn into? In a freak, suffering from senile and an inferiority complex.

 He decided to direct all his knowledge and available information to something that would not be useless than all his previous plans. After all, he no longer spends the allotted seconds on nonsense, right? He needs something reliable.

 On behalf of his fictitious identity, he will contact the BSAA and other organizations, try to cooperate, leaking his data accumulated over many years to everyone. Somewhere he will be listed as an "anonymous informant". However, it was he who gave the information to Chris in 2017. Helping his killer and enemy to... what? As if his damaged brain is trying in every way to signal that they are not finished. He is drawn to a painful past in which he was almost destroyed physically, and completely destroyed as a person.

 Sometimes the prototype virus woke up in his body and regenerated, which prompted Wesker to think that he could still restore his crippled body. To some extent. So he took the remnants of PG67A/W injections from his stash just to try.

It is unlikely that he will be able to visit the Underground Garden in such a state in order to come up with something better from the progenitor virus. And he has no desire to return to the past, he no longer wanted to be tied to a needle. He chose a more practical option – prostheses.

 The PG67A/W caused his body to regenerate by regrowing the destroyed tissue. But this effect was very weak, so it gradually slowed down until it practically stopped. The flesh still, even after 12 years, continues to recover. It slowly grows on top of the prostheses, and the bones, in turn, merge with the prostheses, destroying them. The whole process leaves a lot of scars. Even the damaged head was restored, but the side effects remained with him.

 After many years, he will have to give up prosthetics, because the body will restore itself. And he would have to come up with something else, but he would obviously have a lot of time for that. He has a long life ahead of him. Aging is unlikely to be stronger than the prototype virus.

 I think, closer to 2021, Wesker and Chris will still meet. Not by chance. Chris at first does not recognize in him the one whom he thought he killed 12 years ago. And when he realizes who is standing in front of him, then... However, that's another story.

There is a new danger ahead and it is better to keep enemies closer to yourself, suddenly they will be useful?

- You're pitiful.

- You pity me, Chris?

- No, and I will make sure that you live as long as possible in this world, because life is the best punishment for you right now.

[headspace-hotel]

One of the most disturbing things I encountered in my journey of converting to Judaism was this podcast where Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks made the case that what originally set Judaism apart from “pagan” belief systems at the time of its development was that it “de-sacralized nature”. Monotheism killed animism, in his view, so rather than being something alive and divine, “nature” became an essentially lifeless thing that humans can use. We have a responsibility to care for nature, but only because G-d gave it to us, not because of any intrinsic value in it.

Sacks wasn’t the first person to argue this idea— it’s popular enough among a certain crowd of antisemites— but what was so disturbing for me was Sacks’ unalloyed enthusiasm about this. “De-sacralizing nature” was a good thing in his view, because it made the modern world possible and allowed humanity to “rise above mere animal existence” or some shit. It still bothers me that he drew such a radically different conclusion from our tradition. My experience with Judaism has made me infinitely more sensitive to the rhythms of the natural world and my place in it. The idea that all of nature is alive and joins us in praising G-d is everywhere in our liturgy. The sacredness of the world used to be an abstraction to me, and Judaism taught me to feel it like my own pulse.

as someone raised Christian i'm probably highly ignorant to the differences between Christianity and Judaism apart from, yknow, the Jesus thing, but "monotheism= nature is a created Thing" seems to lead people to a variety of wildly different takes.

like, American Evangelicals are mostly the far extreme of this where the earth is a temporary and ultimately disposable thing, and ultimately doesn't matter because it's Heaven that matters, and "environmentalism" is equivalent to denying the faith. It's Bad.

I just wonder, where does the difference come in? between "God created this creature and therefore we should treat it as sacred because it's his thoughtful handiwork" and "God created this creature so we can do what we want with it"? What other ideas make people go down one path or another?

[badaziraphaletakes]

Aziraphale is NOT "stubborn" about "getting over it". He voluntarily rebelled against heaven as far back as in Eden, then again in Uz and in 2019.

Also, who says he's never asked Crowley about his experiences? Maybe he did and Crowley told him. Or maybe Crowley told him never to ask. Or maybe he has the sense that Crowley doesn't *want* him to ask, and is being considerate. Or maybe he fears it would be dangerous for Crowley if hell overheard his answer. We just don't know.

And who says he wasn't learning the gavotte and doing deep thinking during that period of time? You can do both. Leaping to the conclusion that he spent all of the late 1800s doing nothing but prancing around the room is absolutely nasty. I guarantee he spent a good chunk of that time being devastated for Crowley and what he was suffering. (Learning to dance was almost certainly to take his mind off that.)

Don't come after my Autistic-coded angel's special interests - I will smite you with a flaming sword. Our boy is allowed to have some fun. His existence sucks to an unimaginable degree. He needs a diversion every once in a while. If doing a silly little dance gets him through, then let him have his blessed gavotte, for the love of Frances McDormand!

"Might have come to some conclusions that would have changed things" - the wording of this is incredibly vague, which isn't surprising, because if you were any more specific, this argument would fall apart. Because what could he change? Nothing. People love to talk about how Aziraphale should supposedly think different things, but are conspicuously silent on how, exactly, him having different beliefs would lead to an improvement in his or Crowley's circumstances. (Not to mention we don't *know* what Aziraphale actually believes about a lot of things because he isn't free to talk about it.)

THE PROBLEM IS NOT HIS BELIEFS - IT'S THEIR CIRCUMSTANCES.

(Side note: PLEASE stop with the "Aziraphale is really smart in *some ways*, but in other ways he's an idiot" takes. It's giving autiphobia and I really don't like it.)

"Can't see the forest for the trees" - what, precisely, can he not see? He is very much aware of the terrifying, violent angels ready to smite him if he puts one toe out of line and the terrifying, violent demons ready to torture Crowley or possibly just wipe him out of existence if Aziraphale takes any risks. He knows his situation sucks.

"Stuck in his identity" - the problem, again, is not Aziraphale's identity/angelhood or what he believes about it.

"Hit him over the head with one of his books" - why TF are people so bent on violence to Aziraphale? It's beginning to feel genuinely disturbing.

Also this is irrelevant, but I literally have no idea what the word "syllogism" is supposed to mean in that second sentence. It makes no sense there lol.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I love this blog, and thank you so much for doing this!!

I was wondering if you know any fics where people try to set them up?

Hi! We have a #matchmaking tag you can check out. Here are some more to add...

Oblivious by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

“Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell had been truly baffling to watch all evening, often trading jabs about weather and horses and philosophy before stalking away to different corners. And yet they orbited each other, never staying apart for long, always drawn back together. Phoebe had never seen two people so desperately in love and yet so oblivious to it.”

Love is Blind (Tied Up and Gagged) by RoseDoesFanfiction (G)

"What-” Crowley starts, cutting himself off as he tries to make sense of the scene he’s currently observing. His mouth hangs open around the choke of inarticulate sentiments—mostly ardent confusion—he doesn’t have the words to voice. A shaky breath steadies his nerves as he slumps down upon the edge of his bed. From what he can see, Gabriel and Beelzlebub have kidnapped Aziraphale. He would laugh if it wasn’t so achingly tragic. “He was miserable,” Gabriel explains simply. (Or the one where it takes a minor kidnapping to get them to actually sit down and TALK for someone's sake.) Post Season 2 fix-it.

7 minutes in heaven by waddlesthejoghog (T)

"If Crowley and Aziraphale couldn’t figure it out, Muriel would have to take a different approach. It wasn’t enough to put them in the same location. They had to plant some seeds of conversation. They had to come to a conclusion naturally, but with a push." OR Muriel reads every book in the shop, then comes up with a plan to get Aziraphale and Crowley back together.

seven minutes in somewhere by whicorzoo (T)

In which Aziraphale Fell, in his last year at Eden High School, has had a long-standing, unyielding crush on Anthony Crowley that leaves him a flushing, stuttering mess at the other boy’s mere mention. Because of his affliction, he’s vowed to never speak with Crowley to avoid the inevitable and soul-crushing embarrassment that would surely follow. It’s not as if he’s really risking anything this way, anyways; Crowley likely doesn’t even know he exists. His scheming-but-well-intentioned best friend Anathema, a pantry, and a game of seven minutes in heaven aim to break that vow.

Muriel's Arrow by marsnack (T)

After waiting thousands of years Muriel is finally given their first mission on earth. To make humans fall in love. Only one problem. Or several, actually. Muriel isn't all too good at matchmaking. And Hell, for some unknown reason, really wants to steal Cupid's Bow. And er, the Instruction Manual heaven provided Muriel is a little... outdated When Muriel shoots Crowley with Cupid's Arrow, Aziraphale is desperate to find a way to reverse it. But Crowley is acting differently than everyone else who was shot by the bow. Perhaps it was because he's a demon. Or was there another reason?

The Whispers of The Moon by comicallybadwriter (M)

“Aziraphale, for the eleventh time we have enough wine!” Crowley groaned and leant across the bookshop door, waiting as impatiently as one could for their best platonic friend of 6000 years to finally finish packing a picnic basket for a night of looking at the stars. “Angel,” Crowley stepped into the kitchen and took Aziraphale’s hands in his own, “Anything you’re missing right now, I’ll miracle up in the snap of my finger. Literally.” Crowley raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers for show when a tartan ribbon had fallen into his hands suddenly. The angel picked up the ribbon softly and turned it around in his hands, making Crowley pink in the face, “Sssorry Angel let me-” "Turn around dear." ::: Aziraphale and Crowley are finally left alone, but where there's a demon and angel, there's drama. What could possibly be worse than the end of the world? Well, a lovesick demon struggling to cope with the evergrowing need and want for their neighbouring angel could do some damage.

- Mod D

[fellthemarvelous]

Warning: I use sarcasm when making points.

I have things to say. (And I'm going to be extremely snarky while saying them.)

Y'all, I love Crowley just as much as anyone else, but the way some people think that defending Crowley means it's necessary to villainize Aziraphale is just gross.

Yeah, Crowley is super easy to sympathize with. We all care about him.

But like...some of these Aziraphale hate takes are insane. (And no, haters, I don't actually want to hear from you unless you want to give me even more fodder to work with.)

"Aziraphale shows compassion for everyone except Crowley." (Actual footage from the very first episode, just to name one example, but okay. I guess sheltering someone who was supposed to be his mortal enemy under his wing was a senseless act of cruelty.)

"Aziraphale doesn't love Crowley." (Wait, I totally utilize my heart eyes for people I don't love too!!)

"Aziraphale has never actually trusted Crowley." (They only helped save the world together though. Weird. And then there was that time in 1941 where he trusted that Crowley wouldn't shoot him in the face while their miracles weren't working.)

"Even in second season when Crowley says "I'm a demon, I lied" Aziraphale doesn't think of Crowley's pain, he was busy being sad for himself. Before this Aziraphale even says "I'm like you now" as if being demon is worse thing than killing innocent children and animals." (Whatever the hell this is.)

This one is just really special. Congratulations on walking into the point and somehow missing it at the same time? That's exactly what makes the system so fucked up in the first place and why Crowley doesn't tell anyone that Aziraphale lied to Heaven. This moment wasn't about Crowley. It was about Aziraphale. Crowley knows the pain and trauma that comes with falling and he doesn't want Aziraphale to experience that?? Aziraphale is allowed to be scared and sad because like, I don't know if you know this, but when you've been indoctrinated into blind obedience, going against the grain is actually really fucking scary because the punishment is terrifying. This is why so many religious abuse survivors relate to Aziraphale?? Also, a demon like Hastur would have killed the animals and the children, so....

"I can not in my sane mind think that Crowley could ever trust Aziraphale with his trauma. He would never share anything that was done to him. Because chances are if he did, he would just be invalidated and belittled. Or worse, he would have been blamed even for it since he is a demon and that's what he deserves (which Crowley already believes to be true)." (What?!?!?!)

Aziraphale, most compassionate and kindest angel there is, would mock Crowley's pain? The same Aziraphale who has been mocked and abused (verbally, mentally and physically) by his superiors would turn around and do the same thing to Crowley when Crowley is the only one who has ever understood him? Aziraphale, the angel who gave the demons a chance to walk away from his bookshop without being hurt, would mock Crowley? Aziraphale, the same angel who had to sit there and listen to Shax mock him and belittle him relentlessly while he protected Jimbriel, would invalidate Crowley?

"Aziraphale only loves Crowley as an angel and not a demon." (Yeah, look how disgusted he is...planning a whole ball just so he could hold hands and dance with his demon. Eww.)

"When Crowley asks for the holy water instead of asking for why he needed something that was so dangerous he immediately jumps to conclusions and then hurts Crowley even more."

I mean other than the fact that we saw what happened to Ligur in season one when he got doused with the holy water, I can't imagine why Aziraphale would be so hesitant to hand something like that over to the love of his life. And he finally did hand it over, knowing he would never be able to forgive himself if Crowley did use it to end his own existence. Not to mention that Hell actually did plan to kill Crowley with holy water at the end of season 1. I would totally jump at the chance to give someone I love something incredibly dangerous to them, but I guess I'm built differently. 🙃 And who cares about Aziraphale's feelings on the subject anyway, am I right?

"Crowley has no reason to trust Aziraphale." (I know right? Aside from the time Aziraphale gave him the holy water even though it scared him or the time he used a human magic trick to save Crowley from having to go back to Hell again or the time he protected Crowley's identity by playing along with Bildad the Shuhite so Heaven wouldn't know he was actually a demon or all the times Aziraphale has offered Crowley sanctuary in his bookshop or when they performed their half miracle together or when they literally swapped bodies.)

"Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley because he thinks Crowley is beneath him." (I mean he sacrificed his own happiness to go back to Heaven too, but why bother exploring that when we can all just hate Aziraphale for doing what he thinks is the right thing to do? What even are shades of grey?)

Like I get it. I do. Aziraphale leaving was very upsetting because we wanted to see the Ineffable Husbands get their happy ending. But whenever I see people talk about how rejected Crowley feels, like Aziraphale feels rejected too. You get that, right? And I'm not saying he was right for asking Crowley to go back and become an angel again, but he wants Crowley to be safe and he mistakenly believed it would be that easy.

Just because Aziraphale has a lot to learn doesn't mean he's wrong for going back. Just because Aziraphale has flaws doesn't mean he's bad. Crowley isn't the only one suffering and heartbroken.

And we all saw that the Metatron gave him no time to begin grieving over what just happened. Instead Aziraphale turned around, put a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes, and stepped onto the elevator because he is going to try and make changes even if he has to do it all alone.

How would revolutions get started if people saw no point in trying to change things for the better?

I leaned into bitch mode in this post. It happens.

[unforgivablego]

I still see people talking about the Season 2 being bad. Sometimes they explain their opinion, and sometimes they get hung up on what happened in the final.

I want to speak out a little about it. “Some dumb theories” time. You can’t stop me, anyway.

Yes, the characters can't come to an agreement again. Yes, Aziraphale still believes that Heaven can be fixed. Yes, Crowley is still in love with him and wants to run away from problems instead of solving them. Yes, they are still the same as they were in the Season 1. Yes, they have learned nothing in 6,000 years. But is it really that bad?

Let's start with the fact that we were warned in advance that there will be no important storylines this season. "Quiet, gentle, romantic" - the style of the Neil for this season. And I don't think it goes against the grain of the first season. Season 1 was about the Apocalypse. Season 1 was about how the characters come to the conclusion that they like the Earth the way it is. Season 1 was about the love of the Earth. It was a journey of 6,000 years. Do you think it taught them anything besides the fact that the Earth is really dear to them?

Please don't forget the fact that Aziraphale is an angel. He may doubt that Heaven is so good, but he will never doubt that God wants the best for everyone. Aziraphale is loyal to God, not to Heaven. When Crowley asks which side he is on, Aziraphale doesn’t answer that he is on the side of Heaven, he replies that he is on the side of God. The decision that Aziraphale makes at the end of the second season is "I never doubted God, I believe that I can change Heaven if my faith is stronger than Heaven itself."

Entire Season 1 was about Aziraphale's belief in a simple thing - God never wishes them all harm, so Aziraphale trusts Him. It was Aziraphale's faith that saved them all from the Apocalypse in the first season. Heaven, Hell, Crowley, Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon, Uriel, Metatron - the voice of God, they all told him that God wanted this war to happen. But Aziraphale refuses to believe it, he is ready to doubt them all, but not God. God loves his creations. They are His children, they are dearest to Him, and if the Great Plan dictates that all this must be destroyed, then the Great Plan is wrong. Tens of thousands of angels and demons are ready to believe that their Creator created them only to destroy them, but not Aziraphale, no. No matter what, he will never begin to doubt that God loves them more than anything in the world and this war is certainly not what He really wants.

And do you think Aziraphale will lose his faith after the Season 1? No, he will never stop believing. His faith is so great that he is ready to turn a blind eye to all the atrocities that Heaven has arranged for the Earth and which God hasn’t prevented. Aziraphale is the most real Angel of all. This is his essence, this is his curse.

For me, Aziraphale's refusal to run away with Crowley at the end of the second season doesn't go against the idea of ​​his character. What goes against the grain is Crowley's repeated desire to run away. In Season 1, we saw how strongly he was against the Apocalypse. Who persuaded Aziraphale to save the Earth? Not Heaven, not Hell, not God. Crowley! He loves the Earth, he loves Aziraphale, he wants these two things to continue to exist together. He likes life on Earth, life with Aziraphale. He doesn't want to destroy it all. But what do we see in the fourth episode of Season 1? Knowing that there is no way out of the situation, Crowley is ready to leave the Earth - the Earth he loves as much as Aziraphale - and run away from the problem. Only after finding out that Aziraphale is getting involved in the development of the Apocalypse, he rushes to him. Only because his angel is there. Where did his love for people go? Why is he suddenly ready to fly off to Alpha-Centauri and leave everything burning in hellfire?

He has no faith. This is their difference with Aziraphale. The angel believes that there is always a way out, that if the Great Plan is talking nonsense, then this is not God's plan. And he is ready to fight for the Earth, even if for this he has to go against his own. He openly defied Heaven, he openly sent his side and returned to save the Earth and Crowley.

Second. Why, if the Season 1 was filled with action, rush, wars, an abundance of characters and puzzle solutions, then the Season 2 should be the same? Season 2 is not about the Apocalypse. Season 2 is about what happened after it. The characters behave unnaturally precisely because we have only seen their behavior on the brink of War before. In Season 1, their characters were not fully revealed to us, there was almost no emphasis on inner experiences, since the End of the World is right here, there is absolutely no time for this. Season 1 was filled with many storylines and we just didn't get a break between them to consider the nature of the relationship of the main characters.

Neil said that he intentionally inserted a journey through the years into the ep3. Precisely because we wouldn’t understand why the quarrel in the bandstand at the end is so important. Season 1 doesn't let us learn much about the characters. We almost don't see Aziraphale being bastard and Crowley being kind. We don’t see why they are so attached to each other. Season 1 had a clear plot and this plot had to be kept. Season 1 had a rigid framework that the plot couldn’t go beyond. And the abundance of secondary characters didn’t allow to keep track of everything at once.

What happens in the second season? We finally see how the relationship of the main characters looks like. We see their interaction. We can look into the subcortex and read how they feel. Now Crowley's inability to contain his anger is brought to the fore. We see how he runs away from solving difficult problems, we see how he avoids everything that can be simply discarded and forgotten. And by watching how Crowley handles different situations, we can finally understand why Crowley left Aziraphale in the bandstand. We now see him in the full picture, and we can imagine why he was ready to leave the Earth he loved so much and run away with Aziraphale. This is his way of solving problems. He simply avoids them, shifts others well, or decides in the simplest way - gets rid of them, like plants with spots, or how he wanted to get rid of Gabriel in the Season 2.

Aziraphale solves problems. He is ready to sacrifice his time and energy to figure something out and face it face to face, instead of letting everything take its course. He doesn't get rid of defective books, he gives them as much love as he does for everyone. No matter how difficult the task, he is ready to fight. Even if it Hell, Heaven or an amnesiac Archangel. Even if he had to face Satan in combat, he would raise his sword ready to fight for Earth and Crowley. He can pull himself together. He is kind, sometimes naive, but he has faith. He doesn’t believe that someone can be fundamentally bad, he thinks that the right approach can change everything.

Crowley is a perfectionist. He fell because he asked uncomfortable questions - he wasn’t like everyone else. Therefore, plants with spots are an analogy to his life. He believes that they need to be disposed of, as Heaven once got rid of him.

Aziraphale is the opposite. He keeps misspelled Bibles in the shop. He is proud of his collection, he sees nothing wrong with being different from everyone else. This is an analogy to his worldview.

Crowley only has Aziraphale. He was expelled from Heaven, expelled from Hell, he lost his faith and this is justified. I can understand his point of view. I understand why at the end of Season 2 he asks Aziraphale to run away again.

Aziraphale has Crowley. And faith. Knowing what happens in Heaven, when he is offered to change something, he is ready to go for it. But with Crowley. Remember, he refuses the offer until Metatron pressures Aziraphale to bring Crowley back to Heaven with him. Aziraphale wouldn’t leave without Crowley, which would mean that Crowley wouldn’t be safe. But an offer to go back to Heaven with Crowley, where they would be there all the time and he wouldn't have to worry about Crowley being in constant danger? Think about it.

They both ask each other to leave, but cannot understand why each chose their own path. They don't listen to each other. This is their problem. They love the Earth, they love each other, but they don't listen to what they is trying to tell each other.

And both - BOTH - act in the way that is very characteristic of them. Crowley runs away from the problem, and Aziraphale goes to great lengths to solve the problem.

Why is Aziraphale going back to Heaven? We all pay attention to the fact that he doesn't return Crowley's kiss = he rejects Crowley. Nobody rejects anyone! This act of Crowley was quite cruel. It’s like he’s saying, "This is what we could have if you would give up your God." Do you remember that Aziraphale is an angel? For him to refuse God is the same as to fall. If he renounces God, he will no longer be an angel. I don't understand how people still can't understand something as simple as Aziraphale's true faith.

Crowley left him, so he leaves alone. No, let me explain it differently. Crowley really abandoned him and for lack of an alternative, Aziraphael humbled himself and went, where he was pulled harder. In this case, Metetron was just nearby. If Crowley had been in his place - if Crowley had stayed and not left again - Aziraphale would have stayed with him.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and this season we're being revealed more about that because there's time for that. We are not in a hurry. Against the backdrop of the mystery of Gabriel's memory loss, even the threat of Hell and Heaven is no match for the Apocalypse in the Season 1. This season is not about that. He fully justified his main syllable "quiet, gentle and romantic." Despite the dramatic ending and broken hearts, we have atmospheric quiet everyday life, gentle characters with funny stories, and romance that wasn't given much time in Season 1. “Every day it’s getting closer” describes this season perfectly. We have a breather between global events and the opportunity to enjoy our favorite characters that we haven’t seen for a long time. All this against the backdrop of a showdown between Hell and Heaven and funny scenes in which characters are thrown in order to tell as much as possible about them.

The denouement with Gabriel and Beelzebub may have turned out to be strange. But don’t forget that this season is not about them. If Neil wanted to go into more detail about their relationship, he would’ve spent the entire season on it. But we came to see our husbands, didn't we?

Maggie and Nina's love line doesn't seem out of place to me. They played a good role in developing the relationship of our main idiots and lived up to the phrase "romantic" well. Yes, they also didn’t have a good ending, all our expectations that they would become a couple in the end didn’t come true, but this is a human life, as simple as in Season 1 (the love line of Anathema and Newton was simply illogical and very striking , like sand in mouth) it will not be shown again.

We were shown more of Shax's story to get an idea of ​​what would happen to Hell if this character was in charge.

Despite the certainty, we still don't know who Crowley was before the Fall. Here's another mystery for you. We also don’t know what Metatron is up to, although everything is also crystal clear with the Second Coming. Maybe.

For me, the ending was heartbreaking, but quite logical. The characters acted as they normally do, without losing their principles and beliefs. Aziraphale is not the villain in this story. Crowley is not an abandoned puppy suffering from unrequited love. They just have another quarrel, which of course they will resolve and survive, because they simply cannot live without each other. This is not the end of their relationship, this is an occasion to start again. Believe me, all they really ever needed was to talk. Crowley's decision to talk now was just the wrong moment. This doesn’t mean that Aziraphale abandoned him. This means that both of them are simply not ready until they deal with their main problems.

Think how many times before this, Crowley left Aziraphale, and then dramatically drove off into the sunset? How many times did Aziraphale stand and look after him brokenly in the hope of replaying everything? How many more times is Crowley ready to return and Aziraphale to accept him? Believe me, this is not the first time for them, they will cope. We still have a whole Season 3 ahead of us. And they certainly won't end up all apart.

Season 2 is all about Crowley and Aziraphale. Season 2 is about their experiences, petty fights, arguments, romance and the life they both love. Angry that we didn't get a concrete plot in Season 2 just because Season 1 was like that? Well, excuse me, we have here an ordinary sitcom with ordinary, standard human problems. With ups and downs, with partings etc.

Graphics not up to par with Marvel? Well what do you want? This is not a super universe for you with a global audience. I don't think this season is bad. I consider him as much as he can.

So it goes.

Also, I think you need to read this👇🏻

Geniuses among us

[simonalkenmayer]

There’s a small story I haven’t told, about when I first came to where I currently reside. If you’ve read some of my short stories about my life history, then this would follow directly after “The Suits”.

Back in those days, the place I currently live was almost entirely devoid of women who weren’t already married. It was a very manly man place of wild forests being logged, natives being colonized, and all sorts of hurdy guedy. A man by the name of Mercer began a transplant of women, who were to be educated and married off to the men of the area, so as to “civilize” the place.

After that plan was enacted, women began doing this in their own. And incentives galore existed, including reduced fares, housing, sheltering so forth. When I came up, I switched genders, because of this advantage. I had won myself a deed to some property here, in a poker game. I then pretended to be my own sister, sent to set up the stead and “marry myself off”.

So I came as a woman, and set myself up in a residence hall for young ladies. Why? Because of the proprietress, who kept a secure and tight ship for propped “gels”. I wanted that security, as there is no watchdog better than a large woman with a rolling pin looking out for virtue. My room was essentially Fort Knox. But I didn’t move around town as a woman! Heavens no. Such would be impossible, especially given the condition of the city, which was mud half the time and not set up for skirts.

I worked out of the lumber mill. Dressed as a man. I made friends with a batch of German and Austrian immigrants, because I could understand them. One in particular seemed very taken with me. Probably because he wasn’t much of a talker and I was mute. But then one day he turned up at the boarding house, and I realized he had figured me out, perhaps because he’d followed me home from the drinking hole we all frequented.

I suspected he’d come to the conclusion that I was a woman masquerading as a man to obtain employment. I suspected I’d have a difficult moment ahead.

One night he came to my window at the boarding house, after I’d just quitted the nightly meal. He was drunk as a skunk, and singing love songs at me. I knew the lady of the house would beat him stupider, so I dragged him inside. Then I noticed he was covered in blood. Apparently hed injured himself on the rough fence outside.

Imagine me, dressed in proper female dinner attire, bodily proppping a giant, German man against a wall, as he gibbers and bleeds at me. I shushed him, and told him he had made a terrible mistake. He said he hadn’t. That his life till then was a mistake. I was brave and wonderful and pretty in all the ways. I told him to stop talking rubbish. He realized he was bleeding and fell onto my bed. I say him up with some difficulty, as he extolled my many virtues. “How amazing,” he sang, “that you can push logs and look so fine.”

I offered to push him into the sea off the nearest cliff. He called me mysterious. It was a very lopsided conversation. I set about patching him up. Which led to the following events.

He, seated on the end of the bed, no shirt, facing away from the door. Me, kneeling in my gown, making plaintive noises. Of a sudden, there came a frantic cry and a bashing sound. In crashes the lady of the house, in her shift and pantaloons, her house dress open and flapping like the wings of a harpy. Her face was a red contortion as she smashed a hole into the wood. Jack Nichlson could have taken a lesson from her as she shrieked out a curse through the splinters.

She got the wrong impression from what she saw. It was an impression that unfortunately led to even more frantic mangling of the door. My gentleman caller hurled himself bodily through the window, chased by the very embodiment of Victorian internalized misogyny, screaming bloody murder. Literally.

I evicted myself. I went into the woods to my property and set up a cabin, where I lived to upset the logging and train operations. I went feral.

My man friend, later was injured in an accident, and died. It wasn’t until I spoke of this series of events with some of you, that I came to a different interpretation than I had all this time. I now believe that he actually thought I was a man, dressing as a woman to obtain housing. The things he said while intoxicated make far more sense if that was his assumption. I now realize I broke his heart in a different way than I’d even realized.

Perspective sometimes comes decades later. Sometimes you don’t even know your own past so well without the future.

I gain perspective like this almost constantly, and I realize more and more that I have never taken in all the information I could have. I’ve viewed the world you made through your lens. Silly thing to do, but how was I to know? It’s not as if I had the genius of Frankenstein’s creation to teach myself the truth of all things with a bible. No. Some of us had incompatibility with humanity altogether and couldn’t make sense of it without your biases.

I think about this often.

[boilbluedenim]

Over the liminal mindscape

I love and hate how this show's ending is completely left up to interpretation, mainly because of Wirt and Greg's potential deaths and how that makes me feel about the show as a whole. It attaches a sort of bittersweet feeling to it which I'm not too sure about. more on that soon though.

Anyway, when paying even just an inkling of attention to this show, you can almost immediately connect the dots and come to the conclusion that none of the adventures (for the most part) actually happened. This conclusion is heavily drawn from the frames we see at the very beginning, of Wirt, Greg, and Jason Funderburker (the frog) drowning. (ep 1)

and from the frames where Wirt wakes up in the water after having said goodbye to Beatrice, saving his brother and the frog by carrying them both out of the water. (ep 10)

Taking into account that Wirt, Greg, and Funderburker all fell into the water moments before almost getting hit by a train, which we discover in episode 9; Into The Unknown, I think it's pretty safe to assume that this is, in fact, the case and that OTGW takes place in either a mental space or a physical limbo, occurring while they are all in the process of drowning.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that OTGW is heavily based off of Dante's Inferno, which, in the simplest of summaries, is a poem about a journey that begins in a forest, leads through hell, and eventually into heaven, hence the theorized death I mentioned earlier. It's actually pretty easy to spot where these references and homages lie, for example, the formula of the story is somewhat similar, and the characters take on similar roles. (for example, Virgil: Beatrice/Woodsman(?)or even Greg in some cases, Beatrice: Sara, Dante: Wirt.) (please read Inferno or a summary of it to fully understand this if you haven't already because it's actually really interesting).

Rewatching OTGW with this in mind led me to realize a lot of things that I originally passed off as unique writing choices with no actual meaning behind them. Then again that could be the case but what's the fun in assuming that?

Upon entering the unknown, we're launched into a universe with a seemingly ever-changing time period. Characters talk funny and fancy, dress and act as if they're from the 1600s-1700s, and none of our protagonists seem particularly fazed by this (except for Beatrice, occasionally) with Greg using a phrase such as "brother o'mine" and Wirt's dramatic poetic rambles. Everything feels very inspired while also being all over the place, almost as if it's been composed from memories, lying in the pits of somebody's mind...

Wirt is a Huge Nerd.

If I am to believe that this show takes place in one of our protagonists' minds, which I do in fact believe, then I would say that that protagonist has to be Wirt. Wirt has a tendency to go on poetic spiels, even dropping two of them in the very first episode. Accompanied by his teenage boy dread (being a nerd at 14 is tough) and his overextending knowledge about curious things, which he showcases in his exclaim at Beatrice's ability to talk and his comment about one of the rooms in Endicott's mansion (below), It becomes a glaring possibility that OTGW is primarily from Wirt's point of view, with the Unknown existing solely in his head.

I've actually seen this point argued before, with some people mentioning the black turtles on the poster in Wirt's room or just his entire room in general. However, if true, that doesn't really answer the question of whether the unknown exists as a physical space or a mental one, having no supernatural effects on the real world.

2. The Implications of the Bell

Okay, so, listen.

I hate to be the kind of person who goes "Well it's probably just a fun and silly bit that doesn't actually mean anything." but I'm gonna be that person anyway, or at least I'm not going to assume character death because I don't want to and free will is a thing blablablabla. I will however be serious for a second and try to provide a tangible reason for why I think this scene doesn't have any real-world implications.

For one, this scene immediately jumpcuts to a voiceover, followed by scenes that serve as conclusions for the stories of the characters we've met along the way, all of them being positive. I think this serves the purpose of letting us know the story did in fact have a good ending, with Wirt learning how to treat his brother with respect. I also think that ties into the theory above.

Not only does the unknown serve as a mental limbo but it also serves as a lesson for Wirt in particular. This journey is riddled with self-critique, characterized as Beatrice, all the while Wirt is drowning and realizing he's not only failed himself but his brother as well.

3. The Beast

Surprisingly I haven't mentioned the beast yet even though he's very important to the story. The beast represents a couple of things, one being death and two being the overarching, real-world problem. Those may sound like the same thing, and honestly, they are depending on what you think the problem is. To me, it's Wirt's relationship with, and treatment of Greg in the real world that bleeds into the universe of the unknown.

The exchange that Wirt has with the beast at the end of episode 10 fully encapsulates his character growth. The characters his mind has created have actually taught him something, that being; wallowing in sorrow and accepting your fate is just going to lead you further down this winding path, or in this case, to the bottom of this lake. You will never get home.

Unlike I've seen others suggest, this is not a story of a boy failing and dying while so wrapped up in his own fantasy, eventually residing in a false heaven. Instead, everything is put back where it needs to be.

From the forest, through the unknown, and finally, back home.

[dorian-they-ao3]

it is so so important to me that Aziraphale said “I forgive you”

there’s a variety of theories floating about out there but I personally believe he was saying “I forgive you” in the celestial sense because like. Aziraphale is basically the right hand of God now, right? So saying “I forgive you” is him saying “I’m not going to condemn you or cast you out for rejecting Heaven.” “I forgive you” as in “I won’t hold this choice against you.”

So the “I forgive you” leaves the door open. Aziraphale is waiting for Crowley to change his mind. Crowley is waiting for Aziraphale to come to his senses. So S3 is gonna be all about who caves in first, which is basically like putting two marbles on a slope & seeing which one gravity decides will reach its inevitable conclusion first.

bottom line is these are two beings who love each other and know they both want to spend eternity together but they’re currently having a disagreement over a job offer. A job offer from an historically corrupt company that Aziraphale believes could make a difference in the world with the right person in charge. The problem is not only is he not actually going to be in charge, but this job is going to move them across the universe from the home they’ve built together & force them to give up all of their prized worldly possessions while also requiring both of them to be working for said company. A company that Crowley was fired from several millennia ago all because he asked too many questions and didn’t agree with what management was doing. And now that he’s gotten comfortable being a plantdad-househusband who fudges memos to home office, he really doesn’t want to return to any work at all, let alone for the awful company that fired him in the first place.

So either Aziraphale needs to actually start making a enough of a positive difference that Crowley can admit that Heaven is sort of alright now (unlikely), or, after Aziraphale makes some sweeping celestial changes, he realises his work is basically done so he can leave the company in good hands (hello Muriel) and go back home to his life & his husband, kiss & make up, and live happily ever after (even more unlikely).

OR — and most likely — Aziraphale needs to realise that no matter what he does he can’t change The Way Things Are bc the system of Heaven & Hell itself is broken and needs to be demolished. So he abandons Heaven, reunites with Crowley, does the I Was Wrong dance, and fights alongside the humans in the upcoming Us vs Them battle, hand-in-hand with the love of his nearly-endless existence. And then we’ll ALL live happily ever after.

bottom line: it’s all going to be alright.

[papil0nglegs]

Father!Adam + Daughter!Reader

Chapter 1: “Golden hour”

Ch.1 Ch.2

Warnings: Major grief, major character death(s), Family issues.

A/n: this just hurt to write 😭 Also I just wanna say Emily and Y/n aren’t together her, they’re just besties. I call my friends babe and refer to them as my girlfriends so I js put it here.

Readers POV:

It’s been weeks since the fight against hell. Dad still hasn’t returned, not home, not my phone calls, nothing. I tried calling Caine too but he hasn’t answered either, but I’m pretty sure he knows about it already.

*Knock Knock!!*

A quiet gasp leaves my lips when I hear the door knocking. Dad? Holy shit he’s here!! I quickly rush towards the door, slamming it open. Tears quickly form in my eyes, both from happiness and relief, he’s finally h-

Oh, it’s Emily and Sera. Emily doesn’t look too happy, that’s odd. Normally Emily looks happy to even exist, practically shaking with joy 24/7. But I get that she wouldn’t want to be smiling at a time like this.

“Hey y/n, how you’ve been holding up?” She asks with a concerned tone. I let out a sigh, stalling a bit before giving an answer “I’m doing alright” I shrug, attempting to hide the overbearing fear I’ve been holding for the past days. “May we come in? We just want to see how you’re doing, Caine has been busy for the past few days so we figured we’d drop by.” Sera insists, in her gentle and motherly voice. I guess it’d be nice to have some people over, especially at a time like this.

Third pov:

“So, what’s Caine been doing?” Y/n asks, “I’m sure it’s better than visiting your sister after your dad goes missin-“

“Y/n please!” Sera interrupts, almost angrily whilst Emily looks away shamefully. Sera sighs attempting to calm herself, “I know you’re angry, scared even, but Caine has been feeling the same way for weeks. He’s trying his best to find your father but luck hasn’t been on his side so far..” Emily stares into the table the 3 had been sitting on, while y/n looks away shamefully for saying such things about her dear brother.

Y/n looks back up at Sera, “F.. forgive me Sera. It’s just been, hard.” She says, asking for forgiveness as one does in heaven. “That’s alright,” Emily responds with a weak smile on her face “it hasn’t been easy for us either, your dad was a fun guy so now there’s sorta a sense of.. emptiness at the court.” Sera looks at the two, relieved that the tension has come down a bit. “Do you think Caine could use my help with finding dad? I’m sure I can help in some way! Please, I need to know if he’s okay.” Y/n asks desperately. But Sera isn’t sure about this. “Y/n, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be worried about your father. I mean, you seriously don’t look as fine as you think you do..” Y/n frowns at her response. “I think you should get some sleep, you look like you haven’t slept in days.” Sera suggests while Emily nods.

It takes a minute for y/n to respond, but she eventually comes to the conclusion that worrying about her father all week isn’t the healthiest thing to do.

Emily walks over to y/n helping her stand up from her chair, giving her a warm hug, Y/n’s cold body touching Emily’s warm arms. “It’s okay, we’ll find him babe.” She says smiling softly at her, y/n giving one back.

Flashback:

Adam lays on the soft clouds that is heavens land, staring at the sunset. He had been standing there for hours, completely still. “Dad?” Y/n says from afar, along with Caine. “Hey firefly’s..” He says to the pair, making a ‘cm’ere’ motion to them. The two oblige, sitting next to him.

“..you still upset about mom?” Caine asks, Adam looks down, tearing up a bit. “I.. I don’t know.” He says quietly. Y/n looks over at him with deep concern, “We miss her too Yknow, you don’t have to hide it.” She chuckles softly. But Adam’s feeling of loss felt different, like it was his fault, like he could’ve stopped it somehow. If only he was there, to stop Lucifer from giving her the Apple, maybe things would’ve been different. He remains silent, as his two sit there, waiting for a response of any kind.

Y/n and Caine look at the sunset that their father had just been staring at, “Mom liked the sunsets.. when we were alive.” Caine says trying to break some tension. “Yeah, she said she loved the way dad’s eyes turned golden when the sun hit them.” Adam looks over at y/n, a bit surprised, since this is something that he hasn’t heard before. “She said that?” Adam’s left over tears begin to flow down his cheek a bit, y/n looking as happy as ever, that her dad is finally talking. She missed his voice so much, “Oh right, I remember, she said it reminded her of oranges. Yknow, her favorite fruit.” Caine laughs.

Adam chuckles at the memory, it was like this but with Eve. And now, he’s able to recreate it with his kids, it was beautiful, the way the suns warmth hit them like a warm blanket. Y/n lays her head on his left arm, while Caine does the same, feeling the soft cloth that was Adam’s robe. “It’s okay dad, whatever we’ll go through, we’ll go through it together.”

Third POV:

Y/n wakes up from her long nap, both her forearms lying underneath her pillow while she slowly opens her eyes. The sunset shines through her blinds, touching her skin. She sits up, putting her tangled hair behind her ears, then staring at her window, remembering the time that her family, or at least what was left of it, was together.

She remembers how she always told her dad that it’s okay to grief, especially when you know that you’re not alone. But y/n was alone, or at least she felt like it. Sure it was always an okay to do, to mourn the loss of someone you loved, but what good is it doing so by yourself?