#They have the capability‚ but it's nowhere near as good as the specialized machines he hooks into at home‚ so he still spends much of his

[ratwithhands]

1 - Diantha security detail comic

2 + 3 - Emmet's UDF uniform vs Kalosian Guard uniform

4 - Lore/Background comic

Hooo boy ok so this idea has been simmering on the backburner for a while now. So Legends Z-A had its trailer released a few days back and I figured I'd make something around it. I know logically it's going to be a game set in the past but I found myself wanting to work on something more futuristic/sci-fi which is why we have our little Cyber Emmet here.

There's a lot of different things to mention so I'm just gonna break them down by the images.

1:

Diantha is attending a conference/ceremony where she will be discussing the plans for the urbanization of Kalos with the assistance of neighbouring tech giant and long time trade partner Unova. As a sign of goodwill, the Unovan Defense Force sent several people to either work as security or to help organize and prepare the ceremony. Among the list of people is Emmet, who was recently "working with" the UDF, and who is going to serve as Diantha's bodyguard for the event

Emmet's uniform was made by a mix of Unovan and Kalosian designers. It's meant to mimic the shapes while still keeping aspects of his Unovan uniform (mainly the collar, cuffs, and silver trim). He is carrying a handgun from his UDF uniform, however due to the public nature of the event, he is using his charge pistol instead of his wired pistol. He's also using a different face shield, using a silver one as opposed to his black one, since it better matches the uniform he's wearing for the event

Diantha's fur coat still has the angel wing shape. This isn't lore relevant I just couldn't fit the full thing onto the panel but it's definitely there

2 + 3:

Emmet uses a wired pistol (left side holster) and a charge pistol (right side holster). Both are standard issue firearms used by the UDF, however charge pistols are more common thanks to them being easy to hold and carry. A wired pistol connects to a battery pack of some kind to fire at a greater speed, whereas a charge pistol will generate its own power but take longer to fire and load. Emmet's wired pistol connects to the battery network that powers his body, allowing him to take advantage of his fast reflexes by using his faster weapon

Emmet doesn't get anything to wear for his Unovan uniform! Part of the contract he signed for his cybernetics states that he can't cover the prostheses unless it could lead to a breach in confidentiality (such as going to a foreign region or appearing in public outside of work reasons) since he's meant to effectively advertise the quality and construction of the body built for him. Of course he refuses to go outside completely naked to fight so the UDF got him a cropped version of his coat and shoes so he can have some more cover

The face shield is meant more for form than function. Technically the only purpose they serve is to cover his face when he's out on patrol, though it can also act as a screen to show him information about what he's seeing (kind of like an AR headset). He could technically get the screen function though cornea implants but he's not doing that + he wants the anonymity provided by the shield

Sections of the body can split open or be removed. The front abdominal panel can do both due to the different processing mechanisms inside needing easy access for repair/maintenance. Limbs can be swapped for different prostheses provided they have a compatible socket

The sockets in Emmet's back can be used to power other weapons/devices if he has a compatible cable. Emmet was given a bag of different attachments and cables to hook into his back so he can power a range of things from phones to laser rifles

He has removable skin. Any shot of him with the black body is the body without skin. In situations where he could possibly have skin showing or he is required to wear something that shows more skin, he'll have material rolled over the sections of his body that will be visible so they look more normal

4:

Emmet got run over by a train ♥ long story short is that he went to rescue a passenger who had fallen off the platform and miscalculated how much time he had before the train pulled in. Once he got stabilized in the hospital afterwards, he only has around 30% of his original body intact, along with some sections they were able to somewhat repair but required new hardware being installed in order to return their function. Anything under the waist and a large portion of his arms were crushed beyond repair and as such, he's been connected to different machine to mimic the functions of his organs

The UDF (in a rather scummy play) contacted Emmet for business, asking him to sign a contract that would ensure he would live by letting them test their confidential new tech on him. He is the only ethical candidate they have for testing such prostheses so to get him to agree, they offer to cover the cost of everything relating to his health and work, as well as paying him a salary for the trouble. Since the only other options are "die slowly" or "lose all self sufficiency and go bankrupt living in hospital", he agrees, and so begins his second job as a living experiment and tool for the UDF

I think that's the most I've written for one post yikes. This isn't even everything but I'll cut it here because my hands are not pleased with me typing.

I still have a lot to think about for this concept, mostly what kind of work Emmet will do while overseas in Kalos and whether something dangerous enough will happen to warrant him using his body for what it was made for. That might be funny, only two settings and they're "I love macarons :)" and bloodshed.

Anyways hope you guys enjoyed this dump, feel free to ask on anything (it helps me write too ^^). See you later and have a nice day!

#submas #au #submas au #emmet #subway master emmet #emmet pokemon #kudari #fanart #sketch #drawing #digital art #it just occurred to me that the joltiks would basically cover him like a giant yellow fur coat because he gives off electricity #maybe I should draw that #anyways I am infinitely enraged with how much better he looks from the back!! pretty boy but only when he's not looking at you #SHIT I just realized I forgot to mention the tank #uhh fun fact Emmet spends half of his day inside of a tube ♥ the prostheses can only support him for so long and they can't do his organ fu #They have the capability‚ but it's nowhere near as good as the specialized machines he hooks into at home‚ so he still spends much of his #time asleep or resting in the tube at home. The good thing is that he's a third of his original size so the life support tube doesn't take #up too much space. #Hoough ok I think that's enough writing let me know if you guys want more of this creature‚ I'm heading out for the night #See you and have a nice day!

[reides]

for reides — 5, 6, 7, 8, 11! :3

hi hihihihih bwee hi :3c

5. is there something they want to be known for? this is such a fun thing to think about!! reides is in a quite a position with this because he like... knew that he was going to be 'known' and has for virtually all of his life, thanks to his status as a laverathian royal. like it just comes along with the bloodline. and, of course, the circumstances surrounding his hatching-day (hehe) during that terrible storm practically thrust a mantle on his shoulders in addition to his princely status. he was a symbol of hope for laverathia whether he liked it or not. and for a loooong time he really resented that and would have preferred to just... drift away into obscurity lol.

but over the course of his journey, that's definitely changed a whole lot... especially after learning that his homeland was in danger and feeling an intrinsic pull back towards it to act as one of its protectors. playing a crucial role in all of that really like... helped him understand where the more duty-oriented members of his family (cough viglis cough) were always coming from. though reides sought to reject his blood for a good while, he's realized how important it is for a whole lot of people. and he's also realized that he's actually very proud of it, too. so if he's going to be known for something - if his story is going to be told in dramatized records or as a little footnote in a history book - he wants to be known for something good. however, he still wants to be himself and earn people's respect rather than, like, exist as an abstract symbol of anything. so he's trying his utmost to honor his duty to laverathia AS WELL AS his duty to his own individuality by trying his utmost to embrace his identity as the storm prince. he wants it to be a title that most people say out of admiration rather than it being based in an insult. yes, chaos has a tendency to follow him; yes, he tends to bring change - but these things can be forces of good, and he wants people to know that!

of course, this also ties into his new role as laverathia's ambassador. he wants to show the surfacers just what the people of the depths are capable of; he wants to serve as a bridge between those two worlds that he loves so very much and be worthy of a role that he fought so hard to attain. :) SO QUITE A LOT IS GOING ON OVER HERE!!!! but tbh once he isn't known as a massive disappointment to his friends and family, reides is pleased :-)

6. how have they changed in the last year? how about the last five years? answered here! :3c my babyboy who is a grown adult has grown up so much. LDKDFKGDF

7. there’s a magic item (or technological innovation, or special resource) made just for them—what is it? i can't even say i answered this here bc i honestly still have NO IDEA LMAO but i still really think it should serve as some sort of... land and sea link. i continue to have no idea whatsoever on what it is beyond that feeling but it's the thing that comes to mind, you know? maybe reides can talk into a shell and something fun happens. maybe he should get a magic conch shell like spongebob. technically his arcane focus is already this but i am just spitballing here LDFKSLGKDSG

8. what songs remind you of them? if there are specific lyrics or movements, list ‘em! OHOHOHO. OHOHOHOHO YOU KNOW I LOVE THIS *RUBBING MY HANDS TOGETHER. as you know i have a whole playlist dedicated to songs that remind me of reides. i will shout out five (5) special songs here heheheohoho

chasing kites by iamamiwhoami: over the ocean outcast with nowhere to go a brighter forecast, new winds will blow a storm is drawing near it calms and the air is clear waste my youth chasing kites i know will blow out of my hands

free by florence + the machine: i'm always running from something i push it back, but it keeps on coming and being clever never got me very far because it's all in my head "you're too sensitive," they said i said, "okay, but let's discuss this at the hospital"

the colorful stabwound by múm: some people smile with all their teeth some teeth will ache with every smile i've done some things you won't believe i've stabbed and scratched and spewed my bile

the thunder answered back by gabby's world: i screamed out, "how'd it get this bad?" and the thunder answered back if you know not what you lack then you must un-turn your back your inside is overcast you are tethered to your past and it must feel like fucking hell to be a patchwork of yourself a bunch of scraps thrown and sewn around your bones and though you're alone, it's holding you too tightly but who are you? from where do you come? what do you believe in? and who do you love?

hope by daughter: go back to where you held armour against your skin don't sink, just swim towards the storm and once again you'll be reborn, reborn, reborn 11: if they have a pet or animal companion, how do they spend time with them? if they don’t have one, what sort of animal would they be interested in raising, if any? OUR DEAREST, SWEETEST BABY OWL FAMILIAR... PEPEGA!!!!!! oh reides loves her so much. like so, so much. he loves accessorizing her with little things - right now she wears a red ribbon with a tiny shell from aquos affixed to it. super cute. (NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT, IT WOULD BE GREAT IF AN INVENTION EXISTED TO LET PEPEGA HAVE FUN IN LAVERATHIA. ok that's my answer to #7 now. LMFAOSDLFCKDSG) but other than that he really likes stroking her feathers and hugging her. he takes very good care of her and reads to her very often, too. sometimes he tries feeding her but she doesn't like that too much (fae moment). but she DID love to eat the special magical apple that briar gave her, once!!! (and he said that miré played a hand in conjuring it up so thank you to your baby.)

💌 sixty-nine questions for your ttrpg characters!

#TY SO MUCH BREE!!!!!!! YAY #i will answer the other ones soon too :3 so happy #replies #sangre #reides

[logobosskingdom]

Online tamil bible

Like Cloud's Triple Slash ability, Smackdown can be very useful when surrounded by smaller enemies. Even so, most tend to see it as a waste of ATB. This means that you don't have to worry about overkill, nor are you ever likely to hit the 9,999 damage cap.Ĭharging Uppercut - Steel Pincers (1 ATB Bar)Ĭharging Uppercut is a fairly useless ability, although it does offer a slight reduction in cooldown for Barret's Overcharge triangle attack. What's more, Barret will also switch targets if the initial target is defeated before every shot has been fired off. It's made up of more than thirty hits, with each one capable of being critical. This will likely be your go to ability for dealing physical damage with Barret. Once used, Barret will take damage intended for other party members for two minutes or until he runs out of HP. Lifesaver - Light Machine Gun (1 ATB Bar)īarret's Lifesaver ability works a little bit like the traditional Cover mechanic from previous games. It's great for staggering enemies and, much like Cloud's Focus Thrust, is particularly effective against pressured foes. All damage is reduced by 30% while it's active and smaller enemy attacks will not interrupt Barret's casting and other abilities.įocused Shot - Gatling Gun (All ATB Bars)įocused Shot will use all of Barret's available ATB bars with more bars leading to a more powerful and effective attack. Steelskin is Barret's default ability and allows him to take reduced damage for 90 seconds. If, however, he is not attacked within a few seconds of adopting the stance, he will instead unleash a far weaker attack before reverting back to normal. If he's attacked while in this stance, he'll take reduced damage and unleash a powerful counter that will damage an enemy and significantly raise its stagger meter. Using Counterstance will cause Cloud to shift into a special stance for a short amount of time. It also allows Cloud to deal ranged damage and has a wide area of effect. Depending on how he is setup, it can therefore be a better option than the likes of Braver and Triple Slash in certain situations.

Unlike Cloud's other abilities, Blade Burst's damage is calculated based on his magic attack stat rather than his strength. While it can still be effective against unstaggered enemies, its high ATB cost and inability to build stagger make it incredibly situational. This is Cloud's most powerful ability and is a great way to deal damage to a staggered foe. It's a very situational ability, but can be useful in certain situations. Using Disorder allows players to switch between Operator and Punisher mode in an instant while drastically closing the gap between Cloud and his target. It also builds the stagger gauge a little, but is nowhere near as effective as Focus Thrust against pressured enemies. Triple Slash offers the best damage return per ATB bar and is very useful when you find yourself up against multiple enemies. It's particularly effective against pressured enemies and will therefor be one of your most used abilities during a standard playthrough. The primary use of Focus Thrust is to build an enemy's stagger gauge, although its damage potential isn't too bad either. That said, it's still very useful for the battle with Rufus and Darkstar towards the end of the game. It's great for earlier parts of the game, although is eventually outclassed by several of his other abilities. This is Cloud's default ability and offers a good mixture of damage and stagger potential.

#Online tamil bible

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter One (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.9k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

This might be it. This might just be the first time you’re feeling emotion that doesn’t belong to yourself. And all you can say about it is: it’s completely awful. It’s nothing close to what your mother had told you about. Right now, it feels like you’re a prisoner in your own body, and you’re not being allowed to feel for yourself.

Whoever your soulmate is, they’re obviously empathetic to the point that it’s crippling. Imagine being this grief-ridden on reaping day. You can’t fathom the idea that any regular person would feel this bad for people. So there’s really a couple of things that might be going on. 

One, your soulmate is a friend of a victor, and they’re worried that their favorite person is going to get pulled to go back inside. Two, they’re family of a victor and it’s the same thing. Three, it’s an empathetic person--which you can’t stand. Or four, it’s a victor themself.

No matter the way it goes, their emotion is cancelling out yours. You don’t want to be full of sorrow, you know for a fact that somewhere deep in your body, you’re absolutely bubbling with excitement. You’ve been looking forward to today ever since the games were announced in the winter.

Today is the day.

And yet, you can’t pull yourself out of bed. You’ve been staring at the white ceiling for at least an hour now, setting yourself back. It’s like all the enthusiasm has been drained from your body, and you’re actually regretting your decision.

A slight shiver runs through your body at that thought. You draw the line there, you’re not going to regret anything. 

Pushing yourself up, you slide out of the silk bed sheets before you can change your mind and go back to laziness. You don’t bother fixing the blankets, not really caring for the fact that they’re in disarray. You never make the bed, and you won’t start on it today either. It’s a tactic of stalling, and there’s no reason for you to.

Before the shower, you decide on picking out the dress. Something gold and glittery, which is just about the entire wardrobe. You didn’t actually buy any of these dresses, they were all given as a gift from your stylists or Capitol citizens when you spent your summer after the games, inside of the Capitol.

You pick out a floor-length dress that’s a mix between black and gold. Two set colors that you can match easily. You kick out the heels that are also black and somewhat glittery. They don’t have the actual heel part to them, but they are engineered to look like it, and they’re pretty easy to walk in. They’re always your go-to when it comes to special things like this. 

The dress is only a little bit poofy, and it’s on the lower half. Either way, it goes down to the floor, and there should be no chance of anyone seeing your feet to know that you’re reusing another pair of shoes. There’s a v-neck plunge, but it doesn’t show much skin, you still look pretty modest. In the back, it’s open.

It’s definitely a dress you could find yourself wearing during the interviews with Caesar. Or a dress you would have worn after your first tribute had won the hunger games. You’ve only mentored twice, and both of them came out alive. After that, the job was handed onto them since they were the more recent victors.

All your jewelry resides on the white vanity, but you don’t bother picking those out. You toss the dress over the back of the chair, and move the shoes nearby so it won’t be a hunt. After that, you go ahead and get into the bathroom to take your shower.

You scrub your entire body clean, even though you know that you’ll be washed again inside of the Capitol about a dozen times. You do the basics to your hair, and when you get out, you’re putting product after product in so it’s ready when you do finally come around to it.

You pull on your undergarments, skipping your dress as you head downstairs for breakfast. There’s no shame in going downstairs half-naked. There’s no one else here to call you out on it.

You hit the bottom of the stairs, and while you’re navigating through the living room to get to the kitchen, you pause in the open doorway, a little surprised to see who’s sitting on the white loveseat.

Tanith is flipping through one of those books that are on the bookshelf for pure decoration. From here, you recognize the pink cover like you received the book yesterday, when it’s been years. A gift from your then-district representative, the cover reads in nice script writing, ‘how to get used to your new wealth’. Written by some asshole inside of the Capitol.

“Riveting.” Tanith looks up from the book, eyes landing on you. But she freezes, “God--I’m sorry--”

She covers her eyes, and you can’t help to laugh, “Really?”

You walk past her, heading into the kitchen. You dig through the fridge, pulling out some fresh fruits that you’d bought yesterday from the store. On top of that, you pull out a few eggs too, pop bread into the toaster, spray some cooking butter onto the pan so the eggs won’t stick, and work away.

“I should have knocked instead of walking inside.” She says, “That’s my fault.”

You shrug, “I have no shame, not after my time in the Capitol.”

“I expect not.” you can hear the light scraping of the stool against the tile floor, “You really want to go back inside?”

After the games had been announced, all the victors in the district had gathered together to have their own little meeting. Cipher the people who didn’t want to go back in, and make the ones who did, known. The old were automatically ruled out either way, whether they wanted to go inside or not, they’re too delusional. Old age has rotten their brains, some can’t think straight anymore.

There had been a good handful of people that wanted to go back inside. The only problem was that everyone wanted to do it based on capabilities again. To keep you guys on top of the pyramid as usual. You can’t send in someone who would die off immediately. Thus, a competition started.

As time went on, people were slowly weaned out. Based off of strength, fighting capabilities, who still knew the edible plants, the medical knowledge. If you were able to still present well, with the cute dresses, the white smiles, the charming personalities.

It brought it down to only a couple of you. Sorcha, an older woman in her forties who’s fit even after all these years. She’s arrogant--even more than you--and mean. She’s self-driven, disregards most of the people that come across her. She started off as a Capitol favorite, but now they see her as a total bitch.

Daleka, in her thirties and a very skilled fighter. She won her games by being completely ruthless. Her personality is likable, the Capitol complained when she stopped visiting and mentoring all together. Has a wife and a kid she adopted from the foster care place.

You, of course. Only twenty-five, still seen as somewhat fresh off of the arena. Nine years may seem like a long time to others, but not to you. Along that time, other districts have won too. Like Annie from four and Johanna from seven, and your most recently hated, Katniss and Peeta from twelve. 

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the top three for the most recent out of the arena. First would be Zavian, next would be Tanith, and then it would be you. Everything is still very fresh in your mind, since you were the one that had mentored both Zavian and Tanith. What you’re saying is, you’re a perfect candidate.

Anyway, the final girl that had wanted to go in was Enobaria. A Capitol favorite, like most of you are. Fierce, confident. She got her teeth filed to be sharp because of her signature win of ripping a tribute’s throat out. Fun to be around, nowhere near bubbly like some people think.

And for the boys, the list was quite large, and you wouldn’t be able to name all of them on one hand. The whole point of this is, there could only be one girl and one boy sent in. Therefore, the competition narrowed it down for everyone, as the challenges progressively got harder.

For boys, Brutus won. Tall, bald, muscular. He’s in his forties, but he looks to be about late thirties instead. He’s cocky, a complete pain in the ass, and he would be difficult to fight. But he’s an ally that you can’t deny wouldn’t be good to have at your side.

And for girls, you won it. You practically blew Sorcha and Daleka out of the water. Enobaria was much more difficult to shake, though. She’d obviously continued studying even after her games. You might have been a softie back in the academy, but you were a quick learner, and all of it stuck like it’d been glued with superglue. 

The volunteer is yours to have. And if you chose to back out, there would be no harm in it. That’s why Enobaria is there, she’s the backup in case you were to choose to do something like that. However, you didn’t fight tooth and nail with a bunch of bullies just to quit it. You want that win.

“Yes,” you answer Tanith’s question, “I do. Afraid I won’t win?”

She snorts, “Hardly. I’m afraid that you’ll be a murder machine.”

You look over your shoulder at her, “Have you eaten yet?” 

“No,” she says, and with that, you serve her the eggs, toast and berries. After that, you slide her the butter for her toast, “Thank you.”

As you go back to cook your own breakfast, you smile down at it, “Obviously you haven’t watched my games.”

“I was fifteen.” she objects, “I watched them. What I mean, is that I’m afraid you’ll become a murdering machine again.”

“That’s what all the victors are, not just me. Look back at anyone’s games from this district and you’ll see that.” you pop a strawberry into your mouth, “And it’s not like there’s much to lose, either.”

“This big old house?” she proposes, “Me?”

Tanith has uncomfortably clung onto you like a parental figure. She came straight from the foster care herself, an orphan. Academy took her when she turned eight, because obviously no one would miss her. She was just as deadly as you were, when she turned seventeen. You hand picked her yourself, even though there were ‘better candidates’ for it.

She’s your first winner, like how Zavian is your second. You were sure to keep him out of the same games with Tanith, knowing that it would screw the whole system. You’re fond of them equally, but unlike Zavian--who was eager to get away from you as fast as possible--Tanith has stuck around.

Take today as one of the many examples.

“I like how the house was your first priority to say.”

“You speak about this place like it’s a home base.” she reasons, “You seem to like it more than me, what can I say?”

You go ahead and plate all of your food, turning off the stove but leaving the pan. If you put it under water so soon, the metal will warp from the temperature change, and ruin it. It won’t sit right ever again.

You stand opposite of Tanith, leaning against the counter as you eat, “I wouldn’t say I like it more than you, that seems like an overstatement.” you decide to change the conversation, bored of this one, “Should I be worried about anyone else coming to visit?”

“Enobaria was.” Tanith says, picking at her egg, “She wanted to come and be the one to harass you about volunteering. I told her that I’d take the blow.”

“Smart girl.” you say, stabbing your fork into your egg, walking as the yolk runs out, and straight to your toast. The berries are long gone, “Well, I guess she’ll find out when I volunteer.”

“What’s the point of it, anyway?” she asks, “I mean, you have everything you could have wanted, right?”

“You and I don’t think the same.” you say, “You remind me of myself, back when I was on my victory tour.”

She gives you a confused look, “Is that compliment?”

“I’m more or less calling you humble.”

“Thanks…”

“And mushy, you’re an overthinker. You like the simple things, you won and now you’re done, right? You’re not bothered by the fact that you’re just another face, another name among this crowd of victors.” you take your time eating between sentences, “Me, on the other hand--who would give up the opportunity to be a living legend?”

She hums, nodding a little bit, not knowing what to say. It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a ton of people that have passed on this. But the idea is way too tempting. Possibly double the cash, and you literally get put into the books for not surviving once, but twice? The Capitol citizens love you now, wait until later.

You finish your breakfast quickly, taking your and Tanith’s plate as you move over to the sink, running water over them. Next, you go ahead and place the pan in there too.

“I’ve got to get ready, are you sticking around?”

“I should report back to Enobaria.” Tanith says, you can hear the chair again, “I could come back later with Emi, if you want.”

“Whatever.” you say, heading towards the staircase, “Don’t worry about me too much, kid. I’m unbreakable so far.”

“So far.” She echos.

There’s no goodbye as you go up. By now, your hair is pretty dry. In the bathroom attached to your bedroom, you go ahead and get ready now. You brush your hair, blow dry only a little bit, and then straighten. When you’re done with that, you curl and hairspray.

By the time you’ve moved onto makeup, Tanith is back with Emi already. Emi is older than the both of you, but she has more experience when it comes to some things. She picks out the jewelry for you, and does some of the harder parts of your makeup. The both of them work together to get you into the dress, and then help with the shoes too.

Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, you double check everything, asking yourself if this is what you want. With a few more turns, you decide that you’re going to get praise for the outfit choice. The Capitol will be impressed with how dressed up you got for it. Others might see it as some joke.

You have about thirty minutes before the reaping, which is when you go to leave the house. It isn’t until you’ve stopped at the door, when you realize that you’re missing some sort of token. You tilt your head from side to side, trying to remember what you wore in your first games.

A necklace, wasn’t it? Given to you by your then-boyfriend. He later broke up with you because of your performance inside of the games, which he wasn’t expecting at all in the slightest. Because of this, you kept the necklace as a reminder, it’s tortuous, and you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it now.

“What are you waiting for?” Emi finally asks.

“I need a token.” you tell her, still staring at the staircase, distracted.

“Earrings, necklace, bracelet…” Emi urges slightly, “Ring?”

“No.” you tell her, “Wait--yes for the necklace.”

Your hand finds it, already dangling around your neck. Another gift, Tanith. Some souvenir she had gotten from the Capitol during her visit after she won. This will please her.

“Never mind, it’s on me.”

You leave the house, closing the door with a slam, since it’s a bit shifty when it comes to closing. After that, you wait at the bottom of the steps with the other two, watching as people come out of their houses, one by one. In no time, you’re all walking towards the stage in one big herd.

“Not everyone can visit you, but I definitely will.” Tanith says, “In the departing room, I mean.”

“Sweet.” you look over all the district people who dressed up nicely, despite the fact that they’re not going to be the ones going in. You catch the attention of a few people because of your out. You wonder if they know deep down that it’s because you’re going to volunteer.

“Zavian even agreed too. It was supposed to be a surprise but I know how you feel about them.”

It’s like showing up uninvited. Like her being inside of your house without any prior warning. You guess that’s somewhat your fault too, since you hadn’t talked to anyone yesterday. You were too amped up about today. It’s funny to you, that you were allowed to feel excited yesterday, but so unmotivated today.

Maybe your soulmate was full of anxiety this morning.

“Wanna know something cool?” you ask Tanith.

“Sure.” She looks over at you, but you’re still staring off at everyone you pass.

“I think I actually do have a soulmate.” 

Tanith gasps, covering her mouth. You look over at her, confused by the reaction, until you realize that it was genuine excitement, “Really? That’s good news! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrug, “Didn’t see it as important. Haven’t heard anything from them in a long time, so I thought they were as good as dead.”

“It’s good news.” Tanith looks happy for you, “I wish I’d come across mine already.”

She looks down at her wrist, running her finger over the words.

“You’ve got plenty of time.” you tell her.

“Says you. You were so worried about it.” Tanith says, and before you can object, she adds: “Come on, admit it already.”

You give an exasperated sigh, “I suppose.”

She smiles a bit.

Tanith helps you up the staircase to the stage, which almost looks brand new. It isn’t though, it’s just pristine clean. Unlike the other districts, two is highly loved. Which means that the entire district is rich, except for a select few who were born in the poorer part of the district to begin with.

It just means that everything looks nice. The stage is white, it hardly had dirty footprints. You watch as some comes across with a broom to brush off the dirt after everyone has stepped onto the stage.

District Two is practically a second Capitol.

This year, no one sits in chairs. The girls stand on the right, in the back stand the tallest, and the front stand the shortest. You’re fairly tall, you’re able to see over most people’s heads. Most of the girls in the district manage to be short anyway, it was just the genes that you inherited that allowed you to be tall.

You’re given an easy escape route, the same as Enobaria as a backup. If your name is called, no one is allowed to volunteer over you. However, if you don’t volunteer fast enough, then that leaves it up to grabs. There’s a whole list of people that are dying to be able to go back inside.

Two people sit in chairs, waiting for everyone to file in and get comfortable below the stage. The first is the governor, a woman you’re not that fond of. She got on your nerves back when you had won your games. Back then, you were taking a lot of trips to the Capitol to have work done on your body. She was getting irritated about it.

The second person that sits next to the governor, is the district representative. A short man with loud opinions. He’s one of those people that you wouldn’t mind being thrown inside of the arena with. He’d likely be torn apart like the tributes are a pack of wolves. 

He thinks of you guys as used tissues. There’s been a couple of times when you’ve gotten in his face because of what he said. Nearly shredded him right then and there in front of a few peacekeepers and tributes. If people think you’re scary normally, then they haven’t seen you angry.

It’s a disappointment that he is the district rep. You wish he would jump off a cliff and die. 

Once everyone is in their respective places, the governor gives her speech that she gives every year. It’s the one about the dark days, a required speech. In the group of girls, you whisper the words in harmony. After she wraps it up, the rep moves forward.

His name is Theo, a boring name. Unbearably common and simple. You thought the Capitol people were supposed to be extravagant. This man is a disappointment in more than one way, it turns out.

“Happy hunger games!” His voice is what you’d like to also describe as ‘average’. Not deep, not high pitched. Average, “Let’s start with ladies first, shall we?”

As if it’s a question any of you are allowed to answer. You know someone in this group--mainly Sorcha--is dying to yell back ‘actually no, we shall not’ just to see his reaction. Forget the tributes being seen as monkeys, the Capitol people’s reactions are just as entertaining.

He sticks his white-gloved hand into the bowl, spinning his finger around while he puckers his face. He’s likely thinking, ‘Which one looks the most presentable?’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ you want to yell back, ‘I’m volunteering either way!’

It’s building up unnecessary tension. You scowl, eyes glued to his hand as he finally picks a damn slip of paper. He pulls it out, his suit sleeve nearly clipping the mouth of the bowl, and goes back over to the expensive microphone. He pulls off the black tape, and reads over the name.

“Tanith Nuova!” he smiles widely, looking over towards the girl section.

How funny, your own tribute getting called out. It’s a sign. If you didn’t have your mind made up before, you do now.

“I volunteer!” your voice rings out, no one is surprised.

You slide out of the section of girls, along the way, Tanith holds out her hand, and you slap it for a high-five. A small smirk appears over your face as you gracefully go to where you need to stand. One look at the choir of girls, and you can see that you’re nowhere near out of place with how you’re dressed. Plenty of people look like they’re also ready to head back to the Capitol.

Theo doesn’t look too thrilled, his face puckers again as he heads to the microphone, “(Y/n) Rosecelli for our girl.”

He moves over to the boys now, doing the exact same thing that he did the first time. You glare at him out of annoyance. You manage to catch the eyes of Brutus to see he’s shifting on his feet, clearly fed up with this too.

Theo finally gets to the point of it, “Cobalt Struyk--”

He barely gets out the last name when Brutus’ voice overpowers him, “I volunteer.”

Brutus comes over, standing in front of the boys bowl. Theo, scowling and hinting at the beginning of a temper tantrum, motions to the two of you, not even bothering to introduce Brutus.

You hold your hand out for Brutus, and he gives you a smirk as he takes it. Once you have a hold of each other, you turn towards the cameras, holding up your intertwined fingers, a giant grin on the both of your faces.

Two volunteers, it’s unsurprising to the entire nation. They’re expecting volunteers, but they definitely weren’t anticipating those who would step forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for the Quarter Quell!” Theo says after he managed to pull himself together. He skips the bit about shaking hands, and the two of you are then escorted off of the stage.

You begin in the direction of the departing room, noticing how the peacekeepers follow you and Brutus tightly. By the time you get to the building, Tanith and Zavian are already there, in your room.

“What’s with them being so stuffy?” you ask once the door shuts behind you.

“I heard a few districts are getting out of hand.” Zavian leans on the arm of the couch, “I guess it’s better safe than sorry.”

Another reason why you don’t like that Katniss girl, look at the mess she’s made of everything. It was fine before she came along, fucked up the process. Should’ve gotten over the fact that both of them couldn’t win. It’s not like Peeta was a use anyway. Like you’ve said before, deadweight on her fragile, little girl shoulders.

“Well, this is goodbye.” Zavian says, “Thanks for mentoring me.”

Tanith elbows him, giving him a glare, “You could at least be a little sympathetic, douchebag.”

He raises his eyebrows, “That’s a new one, what else are you gonna call me?”

For a second, they’re staring at each other. And then, Tanith grabs her arm like it’s going to detach itself. You watch in awe as she holds it out, looking down at the words.

“Oh, this is unbelievable.” Tanith now looks like her arm can detach, “I’ve been paired with a moron.”

Zavian doesn’t look that phased, taking one look at his arm, and then shrugging. Almost like nothing that went on in front of you, actually happened, he looks at you again, “Good luck in there, you’ll need it. Twenty-three people to fend off? May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Tanith isn’t very good at brushing it off, but she knows her time is limited. She comes over, holding her arms out like a child. You hug her, for her own sake and squeeze her tightly.

“Will you actually use the necklace as a token?” she asks.

“Well, I need something.” you say, “It’s better than nothing.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.” She pulls away, “Thank you for being the greatest person, ever.”

“Cheesy, she hates it.” Zavian comments, laughing a little to himself, “Look at the look on her face.”

Tanith pretends not to hear him, “I know she’s not fond of affection but--” she backs away entirely, “--you should know that a lot of the victors do like you. Truly. Sorcha and a few of the other’s won’t say it, but they love you. We all do.”

You give her a smile, “Thanks.”

“I’ll send anything that you need.” she says, “Make plenty of allies. Be ruthless.”

She’s quoting you. Those are the exact words you said to her last, before she was off to the hovercraft. It’s funny how they’ve stuck with her this long. They must echo inside of her mind like an empty chamber.

“I will, I promise.” you take in a deep breath.

The doors open, “Time’s up, time for the train.”

You look over the two people that decided to visit you, and you open your arms one last time. Tanith comes over willingly, and it takes Zavian a moment before he realizes that it’s extended to him too.

“You two are my pride and joys. Two of my biggest achievements, really. I’ll be back soon, and then you guys can praise me all you want.”

“Get off of me.” Zavian laughs, pushing away now.

“Bye.” you tell them firmly, before turning around and heading towards the peacekeepers.

One of them presses their hand to your lower back, guiding you to the car where Theo and Brutus await. Theo goes in first, since he’s royalty. Next is you, and Brutus nearly weighs the entire car down when he steps inside.

Theo begins muttering about something, you’re not entirely sure if you’re supposed to be listening or not. You want to tell him to shut up, but Brutus beats you to it. Theo glares, you can see him mouth the word ‘ungrateful’ and then stares out of the window for the rest of the time.

When the ride is over, you purposely hold onto Brutus, making him wait, “Open the door for us, Theo.”

He looks over like you just insulted his mother, “Huh?”

“I said, open the door for us. This is our spotlight, after all.” you motion, “Go ahead, before the peacekeepers do it first.”

Brutus is smiling, and he pushes Theo towards the door forcefully. Theo doesn’t like this in the slightest, popping open the door, and holding it open for you and Brutus. Brutus lets you go first, and you step out of the car carefully, holding onto your dress.

Out of the car now, Theo leads you up to the train station. Around you guys are a bunch of peacekeepers still, getting you up to the platform, and then taking on an automatic position behind you guys.

You take your time, waving with a smile at the thought of the fact that the next time you’ll be here, you’re going to be a two-timed victor.

–

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#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter one

[iatasbcl]

House of Horrors

Pairing: RK900 x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Gore, violence, torture, one-sided relationship, verbal and physical abuse, AU, whole lotta things going on here

A/N: So, I played Outlast: Whistleblower and have been in a horror-y mood ever since. Nines’ personality was heavily inspired by Eddie Gluskin so He ain’t nice here and is basically a yandere (?) pos, enjoy!

W.C: 2.8k

Fear used to be something you felt when you saw a small spider crawling in your room. Panic was just that awful sensation that you would feel when you met someone new. Dread was the feeling that consumed you before any meetings you had with your superiors.

Oh, how you wished those simpler things were what caused your heart to pound in your ears. No, things just had to turn so sinister. You were an employee, you hardly felt like you were of any worth in the massive corporation that was CyberLife, but hey, it paid the bills.

You wanted to smack your past self for being so naïve, for not seeing what was right in front of her. A megacorporation that created androids needed technicians for a secluded project, how did you not think it was shady?

It didn’t matter. You were stuck here with countless CyberLife employees’ bodies, many torn apart and twisted in the most gut-churning way. You were alone here with no possible way to protect yourself from them.

Them. The defective androids. This center was made as a ‘replacement’ for the android dumpsters in Detroit as an effort to gain the world’s trust back after the failed revolution led by the RK200 model. It was only the pretty front they put up for the world, androids that came here were ‘fixed’.

They would take the deviants and perform those weird experiments on them ranging from playing with their memories to messing up their entire head and making it into something much more horrifying. You shouldn’t have cared, everyone said those were just machines that didn’t feel pain or anything from the crude treatment.

Then why did they scream? Why did they beg? Why did they break?

Why did CyberLife even fund something like this? Was your race truly so horrible? Inflicting horrors upon horrors on beings that seemed to feel just for the sake of it like they were sadistic hunters.

The androids somehow got out and many did not show mercy to their torturers, killing them and ripping them apart like they were nothing. A part of you did not feel pity for them, they too were monsters.

You only started working here two weeks ago and you never stood for the things they did. But you were a nobody, a nobody who probably wouldn’t find another job in this economy.

And that’s how you ended up here, breaths ragged and heart-pounding as you frantically tried to quiet yourself. You slowly took out your camera and turned it to night vision. It was an older model from the 10s that you found in your coworker’s desk, you silently thanked Maria and hoped she was okay.  No one was here, you let out a sigh.

“You let me violate you.”

You almost shrieked, fuck, fuck. He was here and he was close. His sickening yet beautiful voice would sing that song as he walked around, searching for a lover. Searching for you.

“You let me desecrate you.”

You lower your camera as you peek through the slots of the tight locker, you could see his red LED flashing in the dark. You held your breath again when stood right in front of you and thanks to the light coming from his temple you could see him baring his teeth at you, like a rabid animal.

“Found you, pet.” With that, the locker was flicked open and you inventorially screamed, trying your hardest to push him away but all that got you was a rough shove towards the floor.

“Now, now,” You picked yourself up and tried to back off, but you felt something hit your head and the world around somehow became darker and thus you drifted away.

“I have so much to show you, my little rabbit.” Was the last thing you heard before completely blacking out.

You awoke in a chair, tied and bound in what looked like a hunter’s chamber, your camera was nowhere to be found. Some bodies were lying around, mutilated beyond recognition. It looked like it was the RK900’s work.

You knew of his model, a model designed to kill and hunt, a model created for destruction. You saw him being brought here when you first arrived, chained like he would lash out the moment he was set free. His blue eyes were breath-taking, and you wondered why CyberLife designed someone so visually pleasing for such purposes.

You looked at his file, model RK900, serial #313 248 317 – 87. Previously used in the D.P.D, the reason for the deviation was unknown. You passed by his cell once, out of sheer curiosity, the RK900 model wasn’t available everywhere and he was the first one to be brought here.

He was quiet, very quiet. He just sat on the white chair and stared down. You didn’t try to talk, you just observed. A state-of-the-art model reduced to nothing but a prisoner. “RK900?” You called; this would probably get you in trouble, but you just had to satisfy your curiosity.

“Are you alright?” You asked, hoping for an answer yet doubting the possibility of getting one. And you didn’t, you had sighed and simply left. That was your only interaction with him before the shit hit the fan, it didn’t explain why he locked you up and then chased you all over the place for the past hours when you managed to escape.

“My little rabbit.” God, you hated that voice. You glared at him as he approached you with a soft smile, it threw you off. “I am glad our little game of hide and seek is over,” he got closer and reached out for your face, “You are finally here, right where I want you.”

This was the first time you got to see properly him since the outbreak and he looked terrifying, to say the least. The right side of his face was stuck in different patches of white, his right eye looked damaged as his sclera was dark, almost black. His white shirt and pants were stained with blood, some of it looked fresher than the other.

“And that is?” you spat.

He laughed for the first time. “Oh, you sweet little thing.” His hand tugged your hair behind your ear and the contact alone sent shivers down your spine. You were afraid of being broken like the others; he was a combat android fully capable of twisting you in any way he pleased.

“You are yet to be perfect.” His words were cold. He retreated, going to a small table at the back of the room.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be afraid, I’d never do something that terrible to you.” Something was menacing about what he said, probably the fact that he held a combat knife. Panic filled you now, and you desperately tried to break free, it proved to be useless.

“No, please. You don’t have to do this.” You whimpered but he approached you regardless, holding that thing in his hands like it was his little toy. “I do. You see, humans always have this fire in them,”

The knife neared your face and you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the worst. You screamed when it tore your skin, it wasn’t very deep or wide, but it still hurt like a bitch. “And the only way to extinguish that pathetic spark is to break them.”

The knife moved downward and dug deeper into your cheek. You tried to hold back, to not give this piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing his work’s effect on you. But you couldn’t, it hurt, it hurt so much. You wailed and clenched your hands into a tight fist, your eyes flowed with tears and you looked at him.

He didn’t even have that smug expression anymore, there was only emptiness. Unsettling, creepy emptiness. “Please, please, stop!”

He chuckled; a dark awful laugh barely hearable compared to your screams of pain. “I am afraid I can’t do that. This is your punishment for trying to leave me, you have to be a good girl and accept it.”

Your throat was sore and dry by the time he was done marking you. You didn’t cry anymore, only shook with small sobs as he stared at you. This was it; this was the end of you. You were going to die in this mess by the hands of some deranged lunatic. No, no. You were a fighter and this fucker won’t break this easily.

“Why me?” You wanted to lure him in, to make him believe you cared about him.

You saw him hesitate to answer, he was probably scanning you. He stepped back and went back to his table. “You are special.”

“How so, sir?” it was hard, trying to act like an innocent toy but you kept the act up for your sake. “Not many humans care about damaged merchandises.” He said as he wiped his bloody knife.

“You approached me when nobody else did, I wanted to make you mine ever since I saw you walk away.” Right. “Why are you even here?”

He stopped and you gulped, shit. “You weren’t as quiet as I would’ve liked you to be while taking your punishment, pet. You don’t get to ask any more questions.”

He came back to you and his hand brushed against your wound, causing you to flinch. “I didn’t want to do it, my love, but you left me no choice. Now, how about we start making you a beautiful dress?”

You knew it wasn’t a question, you were his toy for now and he will make you do whatever he pleased for. You nodded and he unrestrained you, you tried to get up, but you didn’t have any power left in you after hours of running and getting cut like a fucking piece of meat.

“You must be tired. Let me carry you.” He said and carried you like you were his bride, it made you feel somehow sicker. The light-headedness you experienced only got worse with every step he took, and you felt darkness consume you again.

“You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you”

You groan when you hear him sing again, you didn’t want to hear his vile voice. “Ah, you are awake.”

You slowly opened your eyes and saw yourself in a mirror, he stood behind you with a menacing smile. You looked different, the wounded side of you face was stitched up with dried blood surrounding it, that did not look good. But most importantly, you wore a dress, a pretty dotted dress.

“di… did you change my clothes?” You whispered, he put his hand on your shoulder and pressed his lips to the top of your head, you almost gagged. “Of course, I made this for my beautiful wife.” His smile grew wider.

His wife?

“Do you like it, my love?” There was this dangerous edge to his voice, you knew what he wanted you to say. “Yes, sir.” He hummed and nudged you to get up. You did ever so slowly, having to rely on him to push yourself up.

Fuck, your plan to manipulate seemed to be a certain suicide, either that or it was going well. “Where are we going?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyes at him. “It’s a surprise.”

You follow him for five minutes between the rooms and halls of the center, there were so many bodies twisted in the most unimaginable ways, some had necks that were turned a 180°, some we decapitated, some were mutilated beyond recognition. You wanted to throw up.

“We are here.” The awful stench of the rest of the building disappeared when you entered the clear, bright room. It was weirdly… calming.

“This will be our home from now own. We will be together forever, you won’t be ungrateful like that bratty detective, right?”

Your heart quickened for the millionth time tonight, what was he even talking about? It didn’t matter. You knew that leaving this room will be impossible the moment that door is locked, you had to make your move, now.

“Thank you.” He looked relieved and relaxed; his eyes still held the same insanity to them. “I knew you would appreciate my love for you.”

He passed you and went on to tidy the bed, you looked around for anything you could use against and then you noticed it, a knife the door. Bingo. You slowly moved back and leaned down, taking the sharp weapon with ease as the android rambled.

“Other people never appreciated my gestures, he never liked how I protected him from this awful world. He just had to lash out, to try to abandon me for someone else. We could’ve been beautiful, but he practically wanted me to snap his pretty neck.”

You approached as your heart kept pounding and your mouth went dry. Was that why he was here? Did he murder his previous lover? You shook those thoughts off and tapped his shoulder. He paused and looked at you in question, you wrapped your arms around him.

“He sounds like an awful man.” You muttered and he returned your hug. “I knew you would understand me, my love.”

That was your moment to strike, you pulled the knife holding hand and struck it into his thiruim pump without giving him a chance to fight back. The knife easily damaged the thing and you heard RK900 curse before shoving you behind.

You fell and you saw him slowly descend to the ground. “You whore, you ungrateful bitch!” He shouted. You watch him for a moment before you realize this is your chance to bail, so you do. You got up quickly and took the knife with you and put it in your pocket. You panted as you ran towards the exit, you were so close, so close to freedom.

“Come back here!” You didn’t stop but did turn around a bit to see him struggling to follow you but being closer than what you thought, shit. You noticed one of the guard’s body and a gun beside it, you reached for it but were pulled back by a strong chokehold.

“Why did you turn out like him? Didn’t you love me?” You choke and gasp for air as his grip tightened, “I would’ve loved for all of eternity, you whore!” You try to push him as your vision darkened, your feet kicked in every direction in panic but then you remembered.

You took out the knife and you plunged it into his left eye, he stumbled back, and you rushed to the gun. You took hold of it and backed towards the wall. He took the knife out and looked at you, “I’m going to-“

You didn’t let him continue as you shot him between his eyes, another near his thiruim pump, and another and another. You stopped when you were sure he shut down and your heaving breathing finally calmed down. The fucker was dead.

“Hands in the air!”

You flinched as you did exactly what the voice said. You turned and saw SWAT members finally enter the building, “I am human.” You said and one of them scanned you, “Did you see anyone alive?” a bigger man asked you, you shook your head.

You assumed he was the leader, “Get her out of here and search the building. Terminate every android on site.” You were still on the ground when he helped you up and another took you out of there.

When you reached the exit, you noticed your camera laying on the ground, you pushed the man away and reached for it. It still worked and it had everything on it, all the pain and misery you went through for this shitty company and all the horrors it created.

They will pay, and you will make sure the world saw what they were.

#rk900 x reader #dbh #dbh imagine #rk900 #AU

[sasorikigai]

My muse in a relationships || @ephemeralkryonics​ || accepting (Part 2)

👫Do they display affection in public? What about in private?

Publicly, Hanzo may come across as stern, reserved and repressed with his affection (even when he attempts to sneak in knowing gazes, brush of hands and any part of exposed flesh, etc.), as he’s running high on rampant, prompted introspection and overwhelming onslaught of responsibilities that come as freight train of thoughts. So it may prevent him from fully capable to display physical and mental affection, compared to the private setting. 

In private, he is definitely much more at ease, without tension and hardened countenance and aura, which makes it effortless to commit to both physical and mental affection. While he feels more than comfortable expressing his affection with vocalizations, such would not be a possibility when he is fulfilling his Grandmaster’s responsibilities and duties. 

💕Are they open to threesomes or a polyamorous relationship?

It’s a hard no; Hanzo is a strict believer of the ethical philosophy and that “what’s good is what feels good” approach of polyamory or non-monogamy relationship repulsive. This can be more gross, as in the orgiastic pleasures of indulgence, or more subtle, as in weighing long term vs. short term pleasures and pursuing sustainable pleasures, seeking more subtle pleasures such as art and community, and considering the greatest pleasure for the greatest number of beings. While he understands that that it’s not only about sex, and being about the intimacy surrounding sex, Hanzo doesn’t that the pursuit of pleasure is as important to human beings nowhere near as to live a meaningful life, and I think the monogamous family model has been preferred for many good reasons. 

He is a traditionalist by heart, so he prefers one woman or one man is an equal balance with himself, instead of having primary and secondary person whom he could divide his attention. He isn’t very open regarding polyamorous relationships either, so trying other arrangements is out of the option too. Hanzo thinks polyamory is very egocentric and exploitive of participants. There is a primary lover and then secondary lovers, so there is an inherent caste system in Polyamorous relationships. So he would much prefer to have and thinks that it’s better to just find one person to make love with, and stay open to a community of friends. 

Also, time demands and emotional complexities may hinder Hanzo from ever pursuing it for himself. While Harumi and Kuai Liang share self-responsibility and integrity when it comes to their emotional strength and jealousy and commitment wouldn’t be an issue for them, he doesn’t think it’s sustainable long term as it is selfish in nature, even if the premise is that he can love a lot more abundantly than he originally believed we could. Monogamy is not just a belief system – it’s called pair bonding. Nature wants him to team up with and fall in love with one partner. Monogamy doesn’t mean he has to mate with one person for life, but Harumi will always be the one whom he’d consider his soulmate even before Kuai; Kuai just happens to share many paramount traits which Harumi possessed. 

💔Do they have a certain type of person they will not enter into a relationship with?

Anyone who is shallow, one-dimensional, goes against the Bushido Code, which are code of eight virtues he will follow with all his heart. Those individuals don’t deserve Hanzo Hasashi’s hard-earned trust, loyalty, devotion and love. 

💝How long until they feel secure and comfortable in a relationship?

Because of his past as a misguided hellspawn spectre and being used as a pawn without self-governance, Hanzo’s trust towards others and the time it takes to be completely comfortable with his significant other may take a while. With Kuai Liang, the duration which it takes for Hanzo to become more comfortable may be significantly reduced, simply because they have a long history between them. Even as mortal rivals and being a prominent member of opposite factions that had been in such a bitter rivalry for centuries, only exacerbated by Quan Chi’s machinations, the gravitational force of attraction was always there. 

There was an intrinsic intrigue, ever since the OG time where even as Scorpion, he caught up on how significantly different Kuai Liang was compared to Bi-Han. Kuai Liang’s major story arc revolves with the fact that the death of older brother had big impact on Kuai Liang, who in Bi-Han’s honor took name of Sub-Zero as he sought revenge against Scorpion. It was one of his biggest motivation during all MK stories - at least until he made a peace with Hanzo Hasashi. Kuai Liang is idealistic and naive, and Hanzo finds his sympathy, kindness, empathy and mercifulness (despite being absolutely ruthless and ferocious when he’s engaged in kombat) and Hanzo finds that endearing. 

Elder Kuai Liang may seem very composed, but Hanzo now knows in the Lin Kuei’s youth, he was driven by emotions (anger, guilt) - just like he is, anger fueled by guilt - and forced to do many things against his will by various powers (Lin Kuei, Quan Chi’s magic, cursed blade) and still he stayed on the heroes’ side. Kuai Liang even made peace with murderer of his brother - himself - and blamed only Quan Chi for what happened to Bi-Han. Hanzo forever feels indebted and grateful for Kuai’s forgiveness.

🤐Would they ever confess their feelings first?

Hanzo most likely would to Kuai Liang, than having it the other way. While Hanzo isn’t much experienced when it comes to having romantic/sexual relationships, for his one and only partner for life had been Harumi and I headcanon that they were friends from childhood years, in which Hanzo soon became Harumi’s suitor and they became lovers from friends, which also lead to them becoming soulmates. Because Hanzo is more emotionally in touch with himself and have no qualms of expressing his thoughts and feelings, it would come much more natural to him than Kuai Liang, who is rather naive and hasn’t experienced all the life’s joys as his childhood and normalcy to experience various appropriate things in Lin Kuei. 

❌Would they ever cheat on their partner?

Cheating is wrong, because it breaches his hard-earned trust, devotion and love. The golden rule for arguing about morals is the golden rule itself: One should treat others the way one would like others to treat oneself. The special exclusive bond he shared with him/her would degrade to become never exclusive or special. It would feel like such a violation and make him doubt his own self-worth, that maybe he is not deemed worthy enough. A relationship is heavy, involves a lot of opening up and intimacy, and breaking that trust makes him feel vulnerable and betrayed. The searing mental image of his loved one being intimate with someone else is hard to erase completely from your head, and would haunt him for long. It’s a shattering blend of impotent anger, envy, loss of self-confidence, possible erosion of faith in love, disgust at having opened up to such a person, and mind-numbing  regret and sorrow. 

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦Do they want children?

Hanzo always thrived better with having his offsprings; regardless of biological (Satoshi) or surrogate (Takeda Takahashi), Hanzo’s paternal prowess has not only kept him in check from his severe depression and sole survivor’s guilt, but it boosted his hellfire and fighting capabilities, making him even capable of coming on top of Raiden and Sub-Zero (albeit he was injured before their battle). 

🐶Are they a cuddler?

As I have mentioned before, physical intimacy is one of the most crucial and profound part of romantic/sexual relationship. Cuddling often gets conflated with sex because it releases oxytocin, a hormone that promotes bonding, and like sex, cuddling can lower blood pressure, ease pain, and increase sexual and life satisfaction. While cuddling doesn’t always make sex as an end result, Hanzo regards cuddling itself as one of the most important communications in relationships, as those subtle, grounding touches anchor him to reality. It only fosters tight-knitted bonding opportunities and cuddling increases his sense of security with Kuai Liang, which in turn, increases his desire to be emotionally intimate and vulnerable with him. There’s no denying the positive effects cuddling has on his relationship.

🔮Do they believe in soul mates?

I think Hanzo both believes in destiny and growth beliefs; it’s the same with Harumi and Kuai, that he was destined to be with a specific person (in this case, people) and that he would have one person who is meant for me in different timelines (if Harumi hadn’t met her gruesome death, Hanzo would have dedicated his life for her). And this is especially important with Hanzo’s relationship with Kuai Liang, and that their relationship slowly progressed and they both grew to fit together - like yin and yang - as they both made conscious effort to become needed and fill in the gaps of their imperfections. While he believes that he and Kuai can be the most compatible person on the face of the earth, but he doesn’t believe there's an invisible force that draws complete strangers towards each other; they have to continue to make conscious effort to understand and perceive each other, even as they begin to know them in-depth. 

⚔️ Are they protective of their partner?

Extremely. Although Hanzo knows Kuai is a strong and ferocious warrior who can very easily protect himself from peril and throes of death, it’s the past trauma of losing his clan - not once, but twice under supernatural forces he couldn’t control nor predict - and most definitely his family. 

🚀 How far are they willing to go for the person they love?

Once Hanzo commits in romantic/sexual relationships, he will literally go to the ends of the earth and to Hell and back; it’s literally the entirety of his story arc regarding Harumi/Satoshi when you think about it. It it weren’t for Hanzo’s love, Hanzo Hasashi as a character we know as of now may have been nonexistent, and so does Scorpion. 

❤️ Do they fall in love easily?

While the severity of his trauma may have been slightly mitigated by the decades of his desiderium and deep longing, Hanzo still has dreams and nightmares about Harumi, whom he considered not only as a longtime friend, a lover, a beloved and devoted wife, but even more so, his soulmate. She was a quiet, but a strong presence who served as Hanzo’s emotional pillar and guidance. 

📺 Do they share information about their relationships freely with friends and family?

Initially, Hanzo would be very discreet and hesitant about their relationship; at least until it becomes truly serious and fully devoted. For Hanzo, strategic disclosure and manipulation of co-presence (especially in regards to their shared Grandmasters’ positions and being Earthrealm’s protectors) signals will become the most frequent ways in which information was managed. The most frequent reasons for revelation were felt obligation to reveal based on the relationship with the target, the desire for emotional expression and the desire for psychological support from the target. The most frequent reason to withhold information was the anticipation of a negative reaction from his surroundings, specifically to the Shirai Ryu and perhaps beyond.  

This sharing of personal details about his life - your feelings, thoughts, memories, and other such things - Hanzo’s self-disclosure is on the low side; while he is completely open about sharing them to the most trusted, loved individuals, he is much more reserved about such things. 

♦️Are they concerned with the social status of their partner?

Social status is most likely the least facet Hanzo is concerned about, but I think Hanzo certainly has a type for someone who is either 1) a commanding leader in any manifestations and forms - Grandmasters, Commanders, those who have been in the leading position where they are responsible for numbers of individuals under their wings, so to speak, and 2) possesses insistence, the iron-will stubbornness that is able to meet his own hot-tempered decisiveness. 

💭 Do they tend to sleep better when in bed with their partner?

One of Hanzo’s most absolute favorite things to do is to cuddle naked; while he is much more of a sensual being than sexual, Hanzo does enjoy both physical or emotional closeness. While the term intimate relationship usually implies the inclusion of sexual activity, the term is also used to indicate a relationship with more than just sexual activity. Intimate relationships maintain a key role in his overall human experience because they involve emotional connections with others. This may be romance, physical or sexual attraction, sexual activity, or emotional support, while also helps him to develop strong interpersonal connections. 

Hanzo desires physical intimacy of some sort at least occasionally, being that it is a natural part of human sexuality. Because this is most often sensual touching of any sort, it requires an entrance into another's personal space, while it may be an emotional or sexual act anywhere from a hug to a kiss or sexual intercourse. Emotional or sensual touching of this sort aids in the release of oxytocin, dopamine,and serotonin, which reduces stress. Also, without physical intimacy, there are increased feelings of loneliness or sadness and Hanzo is highly prone to suffering both without the intimate proximity with his significant other. 

Specifically with Kuai Liang, he finds the quality of his sleep significantly improved; he finds the cryomancer’s coolness extremely comfortable, relaxing and natural. Even as a pyromancer and someone who is more or less used to stifling heat of Japan, regardless of humidity, he finds majority of summer and fall a bit unbearable - since he is the type to sweat a lot in those hot seasons and it’s hard for him to cool down rapidly without feeling significant discomfort beyond where he feels unhygienic and disgusting. Having some kind of weight under him is also a comforting presence, and he dreams less nightmares and unpleasant dreams because of it. 

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon) #✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ again and always (scorpion x sub-zero) #(relationships; sub-zero) #ephemeralkryonics

[witchdaggahmoon]

The farewell of a God

A long time ago, there were a master and his most loyal servant.

Their names, where they come from, and even why they were fighting has been forgotten since long ago. But they carried a war, a war that they ended up winning thanks to his servant given that he was an immortal being.

This man, having already lived a long time, started growing apathetic and sick of living, getting to the extreme of creating a specially-designed instrument with spikes on either end to pierce it through his skull, unsuccesfully in killing him.

Eventually he met his master and gave to his life purpose again, as her right-hand.

He served with the most strong dedication to her cause, he fought more fierce than any other warrior, with the most resolute of minds. He became a legend among his companions and completed his task to end the war. Yet his legend is now written nowhere, history won't remember him, nowhere in the annals shall he be mentioned.

But that's what he wanted, for once his purpose ended there was nothing to him. Nothing to be ashamed, nothing to be proud. He didn't see himself worthy to be even remembered.

His master, knowing of this and thinking all of the contrary decided to make a gift for him, but not an ordinary one. She knew that nothing would ever fill the emptiness within him so instead of giving him jewels like to the other soldiers, she searched for information all around the world.

The result? A dagger capable of end his inmortality,to gave him a completely new opportunity. But it came with a price, and that was her own very life.

And so then, he was called to met her in a beach near their house during the night and was given his gift along the explication.

It was something that he would never expect, both for the possibility of dying and the noble gesture from her.

After talking a few hours, she was about to take her leave when she said:

—Alright, I'll leave the rest t-

She interrupted herself with a little chuckle.

—Here I was, about to send you off with my usual farewell. To think I won't be able to say my customary line anymore is a little sad.

—...Then why not say it?

—Hm?

It's true that we no longer share a common purpose. My actions will be now entirely my own.

—I'm well aware, I told everyone that you'll be fine, that's what you want after all.

—Was that convincing?

—Well, what do you imagine? It seemed to depress them.

—I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you.

—What do you mean by that?

—You told me that when peace finally came, it would be time for me to play my role. Back then,it sounded like you wanted me to live as a "Storyteller". Why tell me that? You should have known that the day would come when our paths would diverge.

—Because I knew, I knew that I didn't want to leave you with the words of a master to a servant. I wanted to part as friends

"Friends"

The word was something that at this point was meaningless to him. It was something forgotten, without a value, something that just dissappeared.

But now it was making an echoe through his head, like a revelation.

And he just could murmure to himself that word, like a child learning something new, amazed after so many years.

It was a overwhelming, bittersweet and warmth sensation.

Memories, feelings, all from a lifetime ago appeared before his own very eyes.

His flesh for a few moments was able to feel something else that pain.

The time when he had a life, a purpose, a family, friends.

It was like everything formed a cylindrical space, like that one when his life was cursed, but free of any kind of horrible sensation, with no birds.

Only to be interrupted with a silly question:

—Was that too embarrassing?

He turned his head nodding, and not long after, he asked her something else:

—If there were a God, what would you hope for?. Not what you'd wish for, but rather, what would you like that God to be like?.

A long silence started, she couldn't think on a worthwhile answer.

Time passed and he only could bring up that she has never been much for small talk.

They started arguing in a friendly way, jumping from one topic into another, until one thing was bringed up.

Even after that much time working for her, she still didn't know almost anything about him.

The apology from his master was quickly accepted by him, but he turned to see the moon.

—Let me tell you a story from long, long ago. I once tried my hand at playing God.

He then walked closer to the water, staring this time into the ocean before starting:

—I settled in a village and started performing good deeds, I wanted nothing more than to use my curse to help people. Sometimes, that took the form of healing wounds and illness. Other times, I toppled tyrants. And for my trouble, I was punished; even put to death. A minor setback, given that I'm immortal. People celebrated my many returns as miracles.

—I see, then you really were a God to them.

—I was. And it was by no means an unpleasant feeling. Over time, word of my exploits had spread to other settlements. People from afar sought my aid. I went to help these new villages, just as I did the first. And when things finally settled down, I made my way back to the first village torestmy weary mind. I believed that I would be welcomed with open arms. I was a fool. My return drew nothing but criticism.

—After growing accustomed to your powers, the village took you for granted.

—That's right.They blamed me for every negative event that occurred during my abscense. It was then that I realized. I wasn't a savior to these people. I was merely a repairman whose absence inconvenienced them. I was nothing more than an everyday system. You can imagine how disappointing this was to one who saw himself as God. If nothing else, at least you can't compare God with a system. But what does that make God, who can soothe people's souls?. What exactly is God trying to save?.

—This is why you asked me what I hoped God would be? Are you still looking for an answer?.

—You've already shown me one, so I'll tell you what I think. There's something that exists beyond people's understanding of this world, something close to their hearts. When such an existence earns their belief, it is called God. In it, people can find true salvation. And if there were an immortal storyteller in this world, he would likely find a place close to people's hearts as well. In wich case, I might be able to truly save people. So please, say it. Tell me you'll "leave the rest to me". I'm certain now that I can live up to those words. As your friend.

The moonlight rays showed that a smile had been drawn on his face, along with thin shiny lines descending down his cheeks, it was something that his master never saw in all of his life.

Clearly astonished, she could only smile with him before saying his last words and leave after a tight embrace:

—Thank you...Very well, I'll leave the rest to you.

After that, he took his leave, to the mountains, the place where he first died. From there, he could see that first village, and with no pressure he taked the special dagger given by his master and stabbed hymself in the chest. He would be free after so long lifetimes, to live the only one that he always wanted, the one that was stolen from him, and the one his only friend wanted for him. The sight of the village was blurring, the sound of the birds was everytime sounding more far away, the only thing he could smell was that oxidated scent from his own blood and through the blade he feeled how his heartbeat was getting weaker through the blade. And finally he said his last words to the world:

—Here are clothes and shoes, even a map is prepared. Nothing left for divising, nothing left to find out. Wash, wash away the knowledge, before becoming just a machine that breaths.

But even after that he found himself in that cylindrical space with those window-like mirrors, and the birds that anchored their gaze on him. Eventually the birds ended up transforming their gazes into excruciating pain that pierced every inch of his body until he experienced the maximum amount of pain a human can experience, just like the first time. And at the same time all of them started screaming that now familiar song for him:

To survive! To connect! To descend! Die a ruthless death, that's life! A meaningless life, that's death!

Fly! Get high! Dive! Burn out! Before the moon's domination!

Fly! Get high! Dive! Burn out! Before being dragged down!

Don't lose your wings! Even if they turn to ash! Even if they turn to dust!

Fly! Get high! Dive! Burn out! Even if you writhe! Even if you starve! EVEN IF YOU DIE!

Everything was slowly turning black, all the pain was dissappearing, finally, everything reached an end. But not without he noticing that "Even if you die!" was something new in the song, a farewell from the birds to him.

It was the farewell of a God. And the birth of a new life. A life of a storyteller that is going to likely found a place close to people's hearts just like that friend now lives in his own.

[yastaghr]

Grey 8

Just finished the next chapter of Grey! You can find it on Ao3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555439/chapters/46290568

Or under the cut.

“what do you mean, “we’re not going upstairs”?” Stretch nearly shouted Blue out of the house when they finally arrived.

“EXACTLY WHAT I SAID. EDGE HAS BEEN THROUGH A LOT LATELY. HE IS IN NEED OF A REAL REST AND GOOD SLEEP. HE NEEDS TO BE ON THE BED FOR NOW,” Blue explained slowly, trying to make it easy to understand through the concussion.

Stretch growled. “so fucking rude. kicking us out of bed and forcing us to sleep on the cou-”

Blue interrupted him, “-STRETCH, IT’S HIS HOUSE. IT’S HIS BED. HE HAS MORE RIGHT TO SLEEP THERE THAN WE DO.”

Stretch roared at Blue, leaning over the top of him, “don’t you fucking dare to interrupt me! you know how I feel about that! ugh, why do you have to be so stupid? you’d think you could remember something as simple as that.”

Blue looked guiltily down at the floor. “I’M SORRY, BROTHER.”

Stretch frowned. “i don’t believe you. someone who was truly sorry would remember not to interrupt me. until you can make a believable apology you don’t deserve to sleep on the couch. You can use your emergency blanket and sleep on the floor.”

“YES, BROTHER,” Blue said quietly.

He pulled a patched woolen blanket out of his inventory and schlepped over to the corner by the vent. He laid out the blanket and wrapped himself up in it, angling his body so that the heat from the vent could still percolate into the rest of the room.

Stretch watched this with the barest hint of a smile on his face. It dropped into a frown every time Blue looked in his direction. Stretch had a lot of practice doing that. Anytime he got stressed or painful, this more vicious side of him came out. Blue was so easy to manipulate that he had no idea what his brother was capable of. But, what with the strange world, dust, and concussion, Stretch was definitely stressed and painful. And, to be honest, he would pull stunts like this even when he wasn’t stressed or painful. It was just...fun!

Stretch took the thick, lush blanket off the couch and set himself up to sleep in the superior comfort of the couch. It was actually quite soft. Definitely the better of the two options. Score.

-----

“no, this isn’t the right part,” Stretch said with fake exasperation the next day. “you’re not listening to me. i said i needed a hot plate, not an aluminum tube. here, i’ll even draw it for you so you know what it looks like.”

Stretch grabbed a piece of paper and started drawing the hot plate out. It wasn’t a very good drawing. He wasn’t very good at it, not like Blue was. Stretch really hated how Blue flaunted all of those things Stretch didn’t have. He had strength, the ability to clean, the ability to cook, the ability to draw; Stretch was jealous of so many of Blue’s qualities. Of course he could manipulate Blue into doing almost anything he wanted but that was irrelevant.

Edge took the drawing with a look of exhaustion. He said, “I’M SORRY. I’LL TRY TO GET THE RIGHT THING THIS TIME.”

“see that you do,” Stretch said dismissively, turning away from Edge to start fiddling with the machine.

Only when he heard the door to the basement click shut did Stretch turn away from the machine to get to work on his current project. He pulled the half complete drip coffee machine and started installing the aluminum tube that would run next to the hot plate in order to heat up the water to make coffee. Coffee was sacred in Stretch’s world, and he had gone too long without it. He absolutely couldn’t work on the machine any more until he had coffee in his system. Definitely.

-----

Blue’s greatest weakness wasn’t his small size or his broken shoulder. No, his greatest weakness was cleaning. He didn’t know what to call it, but whenever he started to clean anything he got stuck in what was almost a trance. Nothing got through; not words, not obstacles, not anything. The trance would last until he ran out of things to clean. Well, that and pain. Pain woke him up very quickly.

Pain was also Stretch’s favorite way to get Blue to stop. He basically had license to do anything he wanted to Blue, because Blue never remembered what had been done to him. Stretch had mastered the art of knowing just how much pain it would take. He liked living below it.

Today Stretch was having fun bumping and tripping Blue into every hard surface he could manage. Blue hit the walls, stairs, ground, and table multiple times. He was definitely going to have bruises in the morning. Unfortunately, this was getting to be about the right time for Edge to come home from his early-morning shift. Stretch didn’t want that dirty murderer to tattle on him to Blue. That meant it was time to wake Blue up for real.

Stretch arranged himself lazily on the couch and put one foot way out into space. Sure enough, Blue tripped over it and ended up sprawled on the floor. Stretch reached over and grabbed his hand, twisting it around itself until the bones creaked...and then some.

Blue yelped and tried to roll away from Stretch’s hold. The taller brother quickly let go and went back to casually lounging on the couch.

“hey, bro. you got into one of your funks again. it would creep anyone out, the way you move. i had to trip you to get you out of it. you’re lucky i’m here, otherwise edge would have seen you and gotten totally creeped out.”

Blue sat up, holding his good arm close and looking over the hairline fractures that were starting to bleed. Then he smiled weakly at Stretch and said, “THANK YOU.”

Stretch chose to say, “now, can you get me a thing of lasagna? i’m starting to feel a bit hungry. “

-----

The next day Edge was shuffling up the stairs to sleep in his bedroom when Stretch came out of the doorway. Edge wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. One minute he was on the stairs climbing towards his room, the next he was teetering precariously over the edge of the railing and about to fall six feet down to the ground below.

He was just about to fall when one small hand tugged him desperately back onto the staircase. He ended up sprawled on his butt. He slid down several steps before the friction was enough to slow him to a stop.

Edge shook his head and tried to calm his soul beat down from the frantic whine it had reached. He looked around and met the eyes of Blue, who was panting and sitting a few steps up the stairs from him. Blue smiled weakly and said, “I’M SORRY FOR THE ROUGH FALL. NORMALLY I’D BE ABLE TO SUPPORT YOU BETTER, BUT MY LEFT ARM STILL HAS A WAYS TO GO BEFORE IT’S FINISHED HEALING.”

Edge squeezed his hand gently. “THERE IS NOTHING FOR YOU TO FEEL SORRY FOR. I WAS ALMOST OVER THE EDGE; EVEN IF YOU HAD TWO GOOD HANDS, I WOULD NOT HAVE MINDED IF YOU GAVE ME A ROUGH LANDING. I COULD HAVE HURT MYSELF BADLY. DON’T FEEL DOWN FOR NOT SAVING ME PERFECTLY.“

Blue smiled a little more genuinely at that. “I’LL TRY TO KEEP THAT IN MIND. I’M GLAD YOU’RE OKAY.”

Edge smiled back at him. “FOR SAVING ME, LET ME MAKE YOU SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR DINNER. HOW DOES ROAST VENISON SOUND? I HAPPEN TO HAVE SOME THAWING IN THE FRIDGE.”

“THAT SOUNDS WONDERFUL! I’LL HELP YOU SAUTE SOME MUSHROOMS TO GO WITH THEM,” Blue offered.

Edge grinned. “PERFECT.”

-----

“STRETCH, I’M REALLY UPSET WITH YOU AND WE NEED TO TALK!” Blue shouted down the staircase to the basement the next day.

From the bowels of the basement came a grease-stained Stretch. His signature orange hoodie was starting to look like a melting jack-o-lantern. His pants were no better off, and his crocs were squeakier than usual. He looked rough and unimpressed.

“what’s got you in a snit this time, blue?” Stretch said, rolling his eyes.

Blue stamped his foot. “IT IS NOT A SNIT! I’M GENUINELY ANGRY WITH YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO EDGE. I SAW YOU BUMP HIM OVER THE RAILING YESTERDAY. YOU COULD HAVE SERIOUSLY INJURED HIM! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

Stretch chuckled. “there you go again, blue, making up stories to turn yourself into a hero. edge tripped all on his own. i was nowhere near him.”

“YES YOU WERE! YOU BUMPED HIM, AND HE-” Blue was cut off.

“-he’s your newest friend, isn’t he? another poor monster who you’ve decided to worship and rescue whenever you can. you always get like this. any time you make a new friend you turn on me. you love him more than me, don’t you?” Stretch accused.

Blue stood in shock. What kind of a question was that to ask your boyfriend and brother? Of course Blue loved Stretch...obviously. Why would he be dating him if he didn’t?

Apparently Blue’s shock lasted too long, because Stretch lost it. He snarled at Blue, shoved him, and threw a succession of punches at Blue’s ribcage. Bones creaked, cracked, and broke clean in two. Blue collapsed down on the ground and rolled into a protective ball. Blood stained the fresh snow.

Stretch stopped punching when Blue collapsed on the ground. He stared at his brother, at his fist, then at the blood in the snow. His face twisted into a mask of guilt. Under the guilt was a sick pleasure.

“oh stars, i didn’t mean to do that. my soul must have messed up the balance of anger again.”

Blue coughed weakly and smiled stiffly up at Stretch. “THAT’S OKAY, I’LL BE FINE. YOU GO BACK TO YOUR MACHINE. I’LL HEAD IN AND DEAL WITH THIS.”

Stretch left with only a sidelong glance at Blue. He headed back into the basement and shut the door. Only when Blue had heard the door click did he let himself go. Blue tears trickled down his face and stained the snow yet another color. He was bawling. The only reason he wasn’t wracked with sobs was his ribs. His brother had hit him. His brother had hurt him badly. And he hadn’t even tried to hide his lack of an apology.

-----

An hour or so passed. Edge came back from his morning shift to pick Blue up for training. He couldn’t find him inside, so he walked around the house to check the basement. What he found was a horror show. Red blood soaked the snow in a large puddle around the curled-up Blue. Edge could hear the crying from here.

He quickly knelt down in the snow, heedless of the blood that was soaking into his pants. He reached out one shaking hand and gently stroked Blue’s arm.

“BLUE? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

Instantly he regretted the question. Of course Blue wasn’t alright. He was crying in a pool of his own blood.

“...I’LL BE OKAY,” Blue said quietly. He sounded hoarse, probably from all the crying.

Edge hesitated. He needed to help Blue, but moving him might make any injuries worse. On the other hand it wasn’t safe to bandage Blue out here. It was amazing that no one had smelled the blood and come hunting for the free EXP. They needed to get inside where the wards and locks would protect them.

“BLUE, I’M GOING TO HAVE TO PICK YOU UP TO TAKE YOU INSIDE. IT’S PROBABLY GOING TO HURT, BUT WE AREN’T SAFE OUT HERE. CAN I DO THAT?”

Blue nodded. “GO AHEAD. I’M GETTING LIGHTHEADED, THOUGH. I MIGHT FAINT.”

“UNDERSTOOD,” Edge said.

He slowly slipped his arms under Blue to lift him up. Blue grunted, but he managed to stay conscious all the way into the house. Edge set him on the couch and quickly went back to lock and ward the door. Then he ran over and grabbed the medical kit and set to work. He ended up having to cut off Blue’s shirt. The sight that met him was horrible. It looked like Blue had gotten caught in a power hammer. There were so many breaks it was going to be impossible to put everything back together naturally.

“BLUE?” Edge asked, scared of what he was going to have to do.

“YES, EDGE?”

Edge breathed in a sigh. “I’M SORRY, BUT I’M GOING TO HAVE TO USE HEALING MAGIC ON THIS. MY HEALING MAGIC...IT HURTS A LOT. I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT IT.”

Blue smiled at him. “THAT’S OKAY. IT CAN’T BE ANY WORSE THAN MY ALPHYS’. IT FEELS LIKE AN ELECTRIC SHOCK, AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY. IF YOU NEED TO USE HEALING MAGIC, THEN GO AHEAD. THANK YOU FOR WARNING ME, THOUGH.”

Edge flashed a smile. “YOU’RE WELCOME. DO YOU WANT A TOWEL TO BITE DOWN ON? OR A STRESS BALL?”

“I’M GOOD. GO AHEAD AND DO YOUR WORST.”

Edge quickly set to work repairing the mess of a ribcage that Blue was left with. After a few seconds, Blue smiled. “I DON’T KNOW WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOUR MAGIC HURTS, BUT THIS FEELS FINE. IF YOU HAVE THE ENERGY WHEN YOU’RE DONE, CAN YOU HEAL MY ARM? I’LL NEED IT TO WARD OFF STRETCH. UM, I MEAN…”

Edge stiffened. “YOUR BROTHER DID THIS TO YOU?”

Blue looked guiltily down. “IT’S MY FAULT. HE ASKED ME IF I LOVED YOU MORE THAN HIM AND I DIDN’T ANSWER FAST ENOUGH.”

“THAT’S NO REASON TO HIT YOU, LET ALONE DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS. AND THAT’S A VERY UNFAIR QUESTION FOR HIM TO ASK. YOU CAN LOVE MORE THAN ONE PERSON AT A TIME. IT SHOULDN’T BE A CONTEST.”

Blue looked up at him, fresh tears rolling down his face. “IT’S HIS SOUL. A LONG TIME AGO OUR BABYSITTER TRIED TO SLICE HIS SOUL IN HALF. HE CAN’T REALLY CONTROL HIS EMOTIONS ANYMORE.”

Edge was unimpressed. “BULLSHIT. EVEN IF HE DOES HAVE EMOTIONAL ISSUES, THAT IS STILL NO EXCUSE TO HIT YOU. I’VE GOTTEN ANGRY WITH RED IN THE PAST. FURIOUS, EVEN. I NEVER HIT HIM. HITTING SOMEONE IS A CHOICE. HURTING SOMEONE IS A CHOICE. HE SHOULDN’T BE MAKING THAT CHOICE OVER THIS. YOU NEED TO TELL HIM THAT HURTING YOU IS NOT OKAY.”

“I’LL...THINK ABOUT IT, OKAY?” Blue said. His eye sockets blinked a few times. “RIGHT NOW I JUST WANT TO SLEEP.”

Edge nodded. “GO AHEAD AND SLEEP, THEN. I CAN HANDLE THIS BY MYSELF. I’LL WAKE YOU WHEN IT’S TIME TO EAT.”

Blue soon drifted off to sleep. Edge sighed out his worry and continued to heal.

#grey fanfic #underswap sans #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #underfell #domestic violence. #yastaghr

[youcancallmerebecca]

The beauty-or lack thereof-in healing.

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these, I wish that wasn’t the case because I have always found writing down my thoughts very therapeutic. But just to get y’all up to speed, I (stupidly) got back with my ex after all the healing and progress, it was a huge step back for my happiness and wellbeing. I won’t bore y’all with the gory details but I will say getting back together resulted from many many lies on his part and aloooooot of willful ignorance on my behalf. It was a messy situation between me, him and his then girlfriend. While he definitely deserves most of the blame, I was nowhere near innocent in that triangle. I chose to believe his lies about his relationship with his girlfriend knowing good and well he is pathological liar. But after about 3 months of him going back and forth between me and her, we officially got back together. Our reunion was met with much deserved skepticism from my friends but I always had a rebuttal along the lines of “I love him and he deserves a second chance”. Looking back, I was definitely trying to convince myself more than my friends.

As to be expected, it wasn’t a healthy situation. I never trusted him. After our first breakup I realized that he was a narcissist and this time around, I knew all the signs and stages he would go through; the love bombing, devaluation and discard. I knew what he was/is. I knew he wasn’t capable of loving anyone the way normal people do. And yet I stayed. I would love to say I stayed because I loved him so much and blah blah. Truth is, I do love him. I do love him very much and it hurts that I fell in love with someone who isn’t capable of returning it. But I stayed because of my own insecurities and I wanted to be the one to “cure” him because I thought that would fix my issues with not feeling good enough. I wanted to believe I was special enough to make him to grow out of his narcissism. In reality there is no changing him. He is who he is and he always will be and no girl is ever gonna change that. Fast forward to November, I found him texting another girl all kinds of lies and it’s been a constant cycle of him discarding and begging me to stay with him since then. Luckily, this time around I know the signs and I know what he does and says when he’s ready to discard. So this time around, I’m leaving him on my own accord. I pray for his next victim because Lord knows, she’s in for a bumpy ride.

This brings me to the healing aspect of my post. Last time, I didn’t give myself enough space to heal from the abuse of the relationship. I didn’t want to be sad or waste another second crying over him, so I didn’t allow myself time to grieve. This time, I know it’s going to be a hard, long road and I can’t rush it. I was watching a show recently and one of the characters was crying over a breakup while she was trying to fix a printer with a paper jam. Another character was comforting her and said, “the best thing about a paper jam, it forces you to open up the machine, figure out what went wrong in the first place.” It was exactly what I needed to hear at the time. That is exactly what my healing is going to be; looking deep within myself to address my own issues and consciously making an effort to change. I feel like there is a huge aspect of healing that is romanticized when the reality is that healing is painful. Looking inside yourself and addressing all your toxic issues is not easy or beautiful. It’s hard and lonely sometimes. One of my greatest toxic traits is that I give up as soon as things get slightly hard, whether it be with school, work or sports. And I think that is a big part of why I stayed in this relationship for so long; finding the strength to leave him is hard and the second I start to feel it, I run back to him. For the sake of my sanity, I can’t do that anymore. So for the first time in my life, I’m forcing myself to push through the pain because there is something beautiful on the other side.

[salty--alien]

Deeply Wired - cp. 8

Prologue | cp. 1 | cp. 2 | cp. 3 | cp. 4 | cp. 5 | cp. 6   | cp. 7 | Ao3

Summary: It’s 2904. A mechanician known as the Doctor finds a broken android, Rose, and decides to take it with him and fix it. The two become closer quickly but soon a mysterious virus inside Rose starts acting up and revealing its true capabilities, changing everything. When Rose’s previous owner comes around and tries to get a hold of the Bad Wolf virus, the two are left with no choice. What lengths will they go to keep Rose away from the evil hands of the Master?

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x android!Rose Tyler (au)

Chapter: 9/? (Counting prologue)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3063

Notes: We’re nearing the end, friends. Bear with me, please, even as it gets dark. Special thanks to my beta @wordsintimeandspace, and to @starlightkissedsmiles who compared this chapter to doomsday but still supported me through the angst. May this be your warning, my dear readers. <3 Oh, and yeah, this is the lengths they go. They go pretty far. (reference to the story summary) CW: Cursing, Character death (non-permanent), animal death, brief description of violence

Sorry.

Rushing through the familiar street, the Doctor’s mind kept flashing back to the note Rose had left behind. Sorry. As in, sorry, Doctor, but I can’t risk you. He knew exactly what Rose must’ve been thinking, and he also knew it was a huge mistake. Saxon had clearly not given up and that could only mean that he had something up his sleeve. A trap, maybe.

Sorry.

It felt almost ironic, running blindly down the street. Running after the woman he loved. Again. Rose couldn’t be far, she had five minutes’ advance at most. However, he lived in a suburban area with narrow streets and forgettable street names. Five minutes was a lot of time for an android who was determined and had the advantage of never getting out of breath.

The Doctor had officially abused his lungs to their extreme by the time he reached the biggest junction of his neighbourhood. He was forced to stop to gather his breath and fight the feeling of burning nausea from exercising his non-athletic body over its limits. Looking around, breath heaving, the Doctor spinned around, trying to catch a glimpse of any blonde haired person. The bus stops were full of people on both sides of the road, but none of the people waiting looked like Rose. A lone taxi had parked beside the bus stop on his side, blinker flashing steadily to indicate it was waiting for a customer. Rose was nowhere nearby, though.

“Bollocks,” the Doctor cursed under his breath, desperation welling up inside him. He grasped his sweaty hair in his hands, forcefully pulling the locks. Think, think, think…

“Did you see that droid going down the street alone?”

The Doctor’s head perked up at the comment. He turned around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Yeah, ‘s like it didn’t even have a owner. What an ungrateful bundle of wires,” another voice replied. This time the Doctor located the source: They were two men, assumably in their twenties, waiting for the bus under a tree.

“Excuse me,” the Doctor spoke up, stepping closer. “Who are you talking about?” The couple leered at him, weighing him under their gazes. The Doctor tapped his foot on the ground nervously, energy and the need to run sizzling inside him. Finally, the taller one of the two opened his mouth:

“That blonde machine that walked by just now.” The man’s degrading words made the Doctor’s blood boil, but he wasn’t about to start a fight now when these people had possibly spotted his Rose.

“In what direction?” The tall one seemed annoyed and instead of answering he only nodded behind him. “H-how’d you know it was an android?” the Doctor questioned, his brain nagging at him, telling him that every nanosecond he wasted still had him further away from Rose. The short one shrugged and spit on the ground.

“It’s fucking freezing and it only had a tank top on. Plus you could see all the machine bits in its arms and back. Why? It yours or something?”

“No, well, in a way I know her… But… Goodbye,” the Doctor stuttered, hope inflating him as he darted off to the direction they had pointed at. Was he too late?

--------------------------

By some sort of miracle, he wasn’t too late.

At least the men hadn’t been leading him on. As the Doctor rounded the corner, he saw Rose just as she was entering a very familiar black SUV. Her name was left frozen on his lips as he realised it was too late to call after her. The car was already pulling off, Rose inside it. Fuck. Without missing a beat, the Doctor rushed back to the bus stop.

“Come on, I need you to follow that car,” the Doctor nearly shouted as he inserted himself into the taxi he’d spotted earlier. The person behind the driving wheel was genuinely confused. “But… sir, I was called here by–”

“I don’t care! It could be the bloody Queen of the England and I still wouldn’t care - I’m going to pay you double everything. Just. Follow that car, please. Now!” The driver didn’t need to be told twice.

The Doctor noticed his palms were sweating more as his anxiety grew. Rose had left because she thought she put him in danger. She probably wanted to face Saxon alone, the stupid, brave girl. Foolish. He… He loved her, there was no denying it. He’d gone and fallen in love with an AI. There must’ve been several laws against that, but the Doctor didn’t care in that moment. Going to prison was the least of his troubles right now.

“Sir, I lost the sight of the car,” the driver piped up nervously. Crap. The Doctor looked around, trying to spot the black SUV. When he didn’t find it, he started panicking all over again.

Had Saxon noticed the taxi following? Was Saxon himself even in the car? Was Rose safe? No, obviously not. He had to…

“Oh, there it is. Sorry, sir. You still want me to follow them?”

The Doctor released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His heart was hammering madly from the stress, relief flooding his system.

“Yes. Yes, yes, follow them. Please,” he nodded rapidly. His nerves were getting the best of him. If something happened to Rose now…

“I think the car is stopping,” the driver observed, bringing the Doctor back to reality.

“Wh… what?”

“The car. It pulled over. Do you want me to drive closer, or–” “NO. Here is good, thank you,” the Doctor said forcefully, gaze never leaving the black car up ahead. The doors of the car opened and Saxon, accompanied by Rose, exited the vehicle out of his line of sight. A quick glance at his surroundings revealed that they were in some sort of alleyway. A shady place for shady business. Seemed about right.

“Cash or electrochip?” the driver asked, running him up, oblivious to what was happening.

“I… Cash. Cash, yeah, here…” the Doctor answered, distracted, shoving a pile of cash in the driver’s direction. It was certainly way too much for the trip, but the Doctor frankly didn’t care.

“Keep the rest. Thanks,” he said as he climbed out of the taxi, beginning to walk over to the black SUV. He could feel his own heart beat so loud he was afraid it would give him away. As he got closer, faint noises of conversation could be heard.

“Just… tell me what you want from me.” It was Rose’s voice. She sounded hard as steel, but the Doctor could detect a slight waver behind her words.

“You already know what I want,” Saxon’s voice retorted. The Doctor forced himself to stop behind the corner to not reveal himself. He leaned against the worn out brick wall, gaze straying to a dirty street dog sleeping opposite to him.

“I don’t. I want to know the truth. I want to know why you’re doing all of this,” Rose said. There was a brief silence. “Well?”

“What would I get for telling you the truth?” Saxon asked. “And how would it benefit you, Rose?” He was clearly suspicious.

“I have no memory of you ever owning me, so obviously I’m concerned. If… If I… helped you,” Rose sounded like she was forcing the words out, “I would need to know the whole truth. Everything.”

“And why would you just turn yourself in?”

“To keep the Doctor out of this,” Rose answered without missing a beat. “To keep him safe.”

The Doctor couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Rose really know what she was getting herself into? And why? Just so that he would be safe? The Doctor almost stepped up right then, but Saxon’s laugh stopped him in his tracks.

“Aww,” Saxon giggled, “how sweet. How positively adorable,” he drew out with a sickeningly sweet voice. The Doctor’s skin crawled at his voice.

“Very well, Rose. You seem genuine enough. Oh, what people do for love,” Saxon mused. “I do admit throwing you away was a mistake on my part. I should’ve made sure the copy I made of your chip had the virus in it before getting rid of you. My bad. Turns out copying your chip’s data doesn’t transfer the virus inside you.”

“W-wait, so… You never wiped my… You have my memories?”

“Oh, not only your memories. I took a full backup of you. I took it to extract the virus out of you, to use it in my own purposes… sadly, though, the copy is useless. It has no value to me. You, however…”

“H…hold on. Stop, don’t come any closer, Saxon,” Rose’s voice was suddenly afraid, even as she tried to keep it hard and intimidating. The Doctor could hear footsteps against the concrete ground. Rose was in danger.

“It’s Master to you, Rose. You know the truth now. Time for me to claim my part of the deal - and just in time for your precious Doctor to see,” Saxon scorned, startling the Doctor. Saxon knew he was here? Oh, fu…

“Wh… what?” Rose asked, panicked, whirling around just as the Doctor rounded the corner into the dead-end alleyway. “Rose, watch ou–” The Doctor was unable to finish his sentence. Saxon had already stepped behind Rose, grabbing her head and pulling out something from his pocket. Rose let out a terrified shriek as Saxon forcefully plugged a flash drive into the USB port in her neck.

The Doctor could only watch, frozen in horror as gold flooded Rose’s eyes, bright light forcing itself out of her. Rose’s lips were open in a silent scream, her hands struggling to rip the flash drive out. It was too late, though. The damage had already been done.

“What did you do?!” the Doctor demanded, voice broken, accusing. Saxon was smiling smugly, ignoring him completely.

“Hello, my Wolf,” Saxon greeted the golden being. Rose, now completely consumed by the virus, turned to look at Saxon, silent. A small part of the Doctor hoped the Wolf would rip Saxon’s head off. He wouldn’t try to stop her this time.

“Hello, Master.” The echoing voice resembled Rose’s so closely it hurt, but it wasn’t her. It lacked the emotion, the passion, the feeling. It was dull, one of a programmed robot.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” the Doctor all but shouted. This time he really gained Saxon’s attention.

“What do you mean, Doctor Smith?” Saxon asked, inclining his head to the side. “You mean–” Saxon continued, plugging the flash drive off of Rose, “–this?” The Doctor didn’t answer, not wanting to play his game.

“Well, I simply made a small addition to her code,” Saxon said, unprompted. “Basically, Doctor, I overrode her system. I am her Master now.” Saxon threw the flash drive behind him, not needing it anymore. The code had already been applied.

The Doctor turned his attention to Rose, whose eyes were swirling with bottomless gold and power, whose face was slack and emotionless. This wasn’t the almighty Wolf he’d seen. This was a Wolf caught in chains, beaten and forced into submission.

“Rose?” he called gently. Her eyes didn’t light up in recognition. She just stared through him, blank. The Doctor could feel his heart shatter. He blinked to stop the tears from spilling over. Was this it? Was it all over?

“Why now?” the Doctor asked, trying to cover the hurt in his voice. “Why not then?” He wanted answers, more than Rose had received.

“Well, the code wasn’t ready back then. And you two caught me by quite the surprise. Now, though…” Saxon trailed off, turning to look at Rose and gently brushing the android’s cheek with the back of his hand. The Doctor swallowed the urge to attack Saxon just for touching Rose when she was unable to say no. “Let’s show him what you’re made of, shall we, Wolf?”

“Yes Master,” the Wolf answered in monotone. A voice inside the Doctor cried for her, for her to snap out of it, for her to recognise him and stop complying to Saxon. A wiser part of him knew, though, that she was unable to. Whatever Saxon had inserted into her was powerful, and it had clearly forced out a tamed version of the Bad Wolf to do his bidding.

“I don’t like that dog. Destroy it,” Saxon said dismissively, nodding towards the dog the Doctor had seen earlier. It didn’t even take two beats as Rose simply raised her hand and turned her wrist. Horrified, the Doctor watched as the dog woke up, letting out a high-pitched howl of agony, before turning golden and bursting into sparkling dust. It descended onto the colourless asphalt; Gone, just like that. The only trace left of the dog was the pile of dust, now slowly melting into the wind.

A cold tear stuck in his eyelashes, the Doctor turned back to look at Saxon. The man was grinning like a maniac whereas Rose’s gaze held nothing, no remorse. In that moment the Doctor knew she wasn’t really there, that she couldn’t fight back even if she wanted to.

“Excellent job, Wolf,” Saxon praised. Rose’s face remained empty. “I have another task for you. You, Doctor, must know what it is,” he continued, looking pointedly at the Doctor. He swallowed, nodding with a grim expression.

It was his turn to be turned into dust.

--------------------------

Bad Wolf had never believed in love. Such a human emotion was far below it.

For as long as it could remember, the Wolf had been alone, wandering in space. That is until its paths collided with one specific RO-53 unit from the planet Earth, in the year 2899.

Being a part of Rose meant being one with her, and she had always been, from the moment she was created, passionate about everything. From this lesser creature the Wolf learned many things it had avoided before. Love wasn’t just about the smiles exchanged or the butterflies in one’s stomach, nor was it about a lone kiss or hands held tight in the dark of the night. Love was putting someone else’s needs before yours. One’s life wasn’t exchangeable for another’s.

The Wolf noticed how very much Rose loved the Doctor. But even more importantly, the Wolf saw her love for life. And after having been a part of her for so long, things started blurring together. So, little by little, the Wolf found itself falling in love with those things as well.

When it came to the moment where Saxon told Rose to destroy the Doctor, something in the Wolf’s mind shifted. A pulling part of the beast was ready to turn everything into dust with a flick of a wrist but another part, that Rose part of the Wolf, persisted. She had always been too compassionate for her own good, doing what was right, defying orders.

“Get rid of him.”

Defy. Defy. Defy.

Images of them stranded in the scrapyard, the Wolf alone inside Rose’s deactivated mind for weeks, flashed before its eyes. Feeling all that pain and loneliness she had taught it to feel. Without Rose, the Wolf had felt helpless, even as it possessed all that power.

The Wolf was a being of many things: A mythical beast that held all the questions and all the answers, the only one that could mold time and space and bend reality into its will. The Wolf wasn’t, however, a being made to feel. Its only link to rationality, to that insane power, had been this female android, the one that was now locked up away in their mind. Yet even locked up away the Wolf could feel Rose’s presence fighting hard to get out. Strangely, all that pointless resistance awoke something in the Wolf. A newfound feeling, an emotion it had never felt before: Hope.

“No,” it spoke up, its own voice echoing firmly and bouncing off the walls of the universe. The Wolf knew it couldn’t defy its Master’s commands for long, so it needed to be quick.

Long ago the Wolf had looked into the future and it had seen all that is, all that was, and all that ever could be. But the Wolf had never seen this. It had never seen this one android coming. It realised that maybe there was indeed a thing called love. And loving someone meant putting their needs before your own.

Knowing its time had finally come, the Wolf smiled for the final time, embracing its fate.

--------------------------

The Doctor stood in place, waiting for the inevitable. Staring into the depths of Bad Wolf’s ruthless eyes, prepared for everything to end.

After a while the moment between them had stretched a bit too long, though. Saxon had already given his order, yet Rose stood still. Finally:

“No.”

...What?

“No?” Saxon repeated, appalled. “You can’t defy me. I told you to destroy him. Do as your Master says, Wolf.” The Doctor stood still, shocked.

“I’m doing as my Master says. And she is saying no.”

With the flick of its hand, the Wolf picked up a metal pipe that was lying in the ground further away, turning it in its hands. The Doctor stared at the being in confusion, not trusting himself enough to say a word. A bittersweet smile formed on the Wolf’s lips and its gaze turned towards the Doctor, meeting his eyes. They were a good five feet apart, but he could still see the golden tear rolling down Rose’s face, getting stuck in the corner of her mouth, from where she licked it away. A fleck of whiskey brown blended in with the gold of the Wolf’s eyes as it spoke words to him, and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, the Doctor could see Rose there instead of the Wolf. Then she was gone, and the Wolf closed its eyes.

Still trying to process what the Wolf had said, the Doctor only realised what was going to happen when it was too late.

“NO!!!” It was the Master’s shout, but he, too, was far too late. Piercing her neck with the pipe, Rose slumped lifeless to the ground, her chip and the Wolf destroyed for good by the sharp, unforgiving metal.

Tears freely dropping on the pavement, her last words echoed in the Doctor’s head like an accusation:

“I love you. Goodbye.”

#picandchips #ficandchips #cio draws #cio writes #deeply wired #ten x rose #android!rose #android!au #au #bet you werent expecting thiss #(<- automatic tag for my content) #tw swearing #tw character death #(non-permanent) #tw violence #tw animal death

[vetoedmartyr]

∬thє unívєrѕє íѕ ѕhαpєd єхαctlч líkє thє єαrth. íf чσu gσ ѕtrαíght lσng єnσugh чσu'll єnd up whєrє чσu wєrє.∬

✰

“I’m a Neuroscientist, not a surgeon. I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

Mordecai scanned the file in his hands, brows lightly furrowing as he read every word more than once. Gathering what it was they were trying to do and say in this special case. It wasn’t like anything he had seen before and all of it was like it was some type of project. It literally made Mordecai forget that what he was reading was about a person. The terminology made it sound like they were referring to some type of machine. Using terms like “modifications” and “upgrading material”, hard to believe they were using those to describe a person. But they were, and by now Mordecai was used to it.

Shaking his head slightly he looked up from the file again and closed the folder on his hands.

“I couldn’t do any of this nor do I want to.”

“Your brother had successfully erased and modified forty-seven agents. You haven’t even come close to one.”

“I know, but...”

“It is your job as a neuroscientist to take these agents and create weapons. You have no choice.”

Mordecai simply stood still as he watched the room empty. Waiting for each higher-up to exit before heaving out a long sigh and dropping his head. Closing his eyes a moment as he stood still.

Forty-seven.

The number didn’t seem high but in that circumstance, it was too high. That was forty-seven people. People with lives, memories, hobbies, careers, and loved ones. People who innocently woke up and forgot everything except what they were programmed to do. It broke Mordecai’s heart and scared him to the core that he was left to be the one to do that job. He didn’t want to do that job, and all he wished right then was to not be dragged into this corrupt mess of an organization. Thinking back on things, Mordecai wished that he didn’t even open his front door that night Elric came knocking.

Slowly lifting his head back up, Mordecai opened his eyes and flinched.

“Elric!”

He reflexively called out as he saw the sight of his older brother. Elric always made Mordecai nervous, due to their upbringing. The two weren’t remotely close and never really got along whenever they did speak. That made things even more confusing when Elric came and dragged Mordecai into this mess.

Brown eyes widened a bit as he looked up at his brother’s eyes. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. In that case, it made things even more unsettling, Elric’s eyes really reflected his personality. Mordecai flinched again as Elric spoke out in his deep-toned booming voice.

“Pick up the pace scrap! I brought you here for a reason didn’t I?”

“I... well... I mean... y-you dragged me here...”

“For a reason. You learned this, didn’t you? Now is your chance to show them what you’re capable of.”

“But...”

Just like that Elric was gone. Mentally kicking himself, Mordecai hated that he couldn’t stand up to Elric. Rolling his eyes he wandered out of the room and down the hall. Slowing his pace as he reached the lab. Reluctantly entering the room he looked around and went over to one of the monitors seeing a CT-scan pulled up on the screen. Getting taken aback, it was /his/ scan. But he didn’t remember any of that happening at all. Slowly stepping away from the screen he stopped as he felt presence enter the room. Turning around he was greeted by the appearance of the higher-ups yet no sign of Elric anywhere.

“One choice Mordecai Quintel. Become a weapon maker or a weapon yourself.”

Snapping his eyes open, Mordecai jerked straight up. Looking around he raised a hand and rubbed one of his eyes. Squinting them a bit in the now daylight. Feeling his heart ram against the inside of his chest as tried to settle down and take a deep breath.

He was nowhere near the HQ anymore but still was miles away from what he called his home.

Outstretching his arms forward he yawned and shook his head a bit. Trying to release himself from the fog and doing all he could to forget that dream. Which wasn’t all that far from reality. Except for the fact that Elric wasn’t alive anymore, and seeing him in his dreams was chilling, to say the least. It had been a full six months since he lost his only brother and it was still messing with him. But he had no time to dwell on that, it was an odd situation anyway. The more time he spent overthinking about it, the weirder it felt so he dropped it.

Looking around Mordecai quickly scrambled to get up and grab his things again. Taking his tablet he opened it and checked the time and everything a moment. Luckily, he wasn’t being tracked by HQ or anything so he breathed easier on that note. Still, he quickly gathered what little he had, set it aside and picked out some clothes to wear. Right before heading into the bathroom and showering for a good fifteen minutes. Taking advantage of that time alone with his thoughts, he tried on gathering what to do and where to go next. Once he was all washed up for the day he got out and got himself dressed. Running a towel through his thick waves, he grabbed his shoes. Tossing the towel on the bed he bent down and slipped on his shoes and tied them up tight.

Taking his collared jacket, he zipped it up three-fourths the way up and cleaned up the room a bit. Grabbing the keycard, as well as his messenger bag and tablet. Mordecai exited the room and checked out of the hotel he was staying at.

Once he was out in the real world again, he looked all around before picking a random location and heading down that path. He had managed to get out of Maine completely and make it back to his home in New York. Making it back into the heart of the city, he wanted to make it back to Brooklynn but was worried the HQ might try to fond him again. He didn’t want to place his father in that situation at all so he had no choice but to stay in Manhattan. He found out that the main base in Manhattan had been pretty much taken down, so he felt alright staying there.

In all honesty in the back of his mind, Mordecai wanted to head to California. But that, of course, was seeming impossible. However, it was a plan, maybe the last resort of a plan, yet a plan nonetheless. After many years of being in New York, he still called California his true home. New York just no longer felt like home nor a safe haven anymore. Maine was a nightmare, and New York had too many hardships to be known as “home” anymore.

Mordecai wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours on end before finally stumbling upon a place to settle for a bit. One right outside one of his favorite buildings to ever lay his coffee-brown eyes on.

The library.

Adjusting the strap across his torso, Mordecai stepped inside and headed straight for the science section. Grabbing a few books, he gathered them up and checked them out. Once he had done that, he stepped back outside and found a picnic table. Setting the books down he looped his long legs into the picnic table and opened up one of the books. Looking through it Mordecai let his busy mind wander again. Thinking about how complex the human brain was, and how he knew how to destroy it. All of the memories and knowledge it could hold onto and withstand and how he could erase all of that. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about that again. Mordecai was wretched with guilt and he didn’t even do it himself. Knowing just how to do it was more than enough and he hated it. He didn’t want to be known as a monster for creating them, that was why he left.

That number popped into his mind again. It didn’t seem like a large number but in that sense, it was too large. Reliving that same mentality he had in his dream, it was still too much. He knew them, their names, where they came from, all of that. Knowing that they were now all running around having no knowledge of who they are and to be “triggered to turn on” at any given moment. Was terrifying and made Mordecai guilty. None of it was even his own doing. Elric did it, he did all of it while Mordecai’s back was turned. Elric was the creator yet it was Mordecai left with the guilt and weight of what his brother left behind in his life.

Closing the book, Mordecai reached in his bag and pulled out his tablet. Turning it on, he grabbed his stylus and scrolled through the tablet. He still had all of the codings from the HQ so he went over to their files and scrolled through the names.

The ones his brother did, the ones from the Virginia base, all of them. They only saw scores, numbers, and weapons when they saw those names. But Mordecai saw people. People who deserved much better and shouldn’t have gone through any of that. Seeing that they were all different, had personalities and of course, lives of their own. Seeing that now they were walking science projects, causing danger to themselves and others without any realization.

Looking through their brain scans and the “before and afters” which was another chilling sight all on its own. The guilty feeling crept back up on Mordecai and he quickly slammed the tablet case shut. Shoving it back in his bag, he groaned to himself and dropping his head onto the edge of the table.

Feeling lost and confused, he wasn’t sure what to do. All he felt like doing was running away from the guilt. Guilt he didn’t even have to have but was there regardless. Like a black shadow that followed him around wherever he went, even though he did nothing wrong. It wasn’t /his/ fault his brother turned out the way he did. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel like he could have prevented it. He could have told his brother to stop, or at least try. By that time Mordecai gave up on trying with Elric, knowing very well that it wouldn’t’ve worked. They never got along when growing up, and Mordecai always felt like he was reaching out in an abyss.

The image of his brother was still vivid in his mind. When he closed his eyes he could see him. Seeing his tall stature, emotionless face, and near-black eyes. Always shoving Mordecai away no matter how hard Mordecai tried. Watching him turn corrupt was like a nightmare he was waiting on. Elric wasn’t a nice nor good person and wasn’t a brother to Mordecai at all. Growing up they were all each other had, and he missed out on that companionship. Elric simply wanted nothing to do with Mordecai, nothing expect to have him become like him in the HQ and be a “weapon maker”.

Lifting his head up again he stared forward a moment and just focused on the sight with a blank look in his eyes. Slowly blinking he snapped out of it and straightened his back.snaking his legs out of the table, he gathered the book and sent them through the drop off chute.

Trying to shake out the images from his mind as well as get rid of the guilty feeling at least for a little while. Mordecai once again picked a random direction and started walking again. Having no plan on where he was going or idea where he was going to end up. Right then none of that really mattered. All he wanted for himself right then was to shake off the guilty feeling and have his mind wander elsewhere for a while. Doing whatever he could to think of anything else other than the weapons project, or his brother, or anything about the CIA. Mordecai just wanted to forget all about that part of his life, at least momentarily so he could get himself through before settling somewhere again.

[apostate-crowley]

Sauntering Vaguely Downwards

Rating: G

Words: 20,153

Characters: Crowley, Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Sandalphon

Tags: Crowley was Raphael before he fell, religious crisis, heresy and blasphemy, angelic patronages, the archangels are siblings, pre-fall, the seven days of creation, the fall

Warnings: two mentions of suicide ideation and a graphic description of fire during the Fall

please ignore how pretentiously this starts off okay

+++

Day 1

The creation of the Earth was not actually the first thing to ever happen.

That date-- Sunday, October 21st, 4004 BC-- named merely the creation of the universe. God, of course, exists outside of it. There was God, and there was Time, and then God decided to create some archangels because she's not all that into heavy lifting or doing her own dirty work.

There were four of them. They existed nowhere and no-place, they had no bodies, they had no plane to exist in, no distance or spatial sense. There was Time, passing, and an awareness of four spirits, and absolutely nothing else. There was no sense of being surrounded in darkness or pure stark whiteness, or some other color entirely. There was no way of knowing if there were great tracts of space separating them all or if they were huddled together, stacked on top of each other like newborns.

They just suddenly existed.

Years and centuries and millennia later, Crowley would think he had felt very young at the time.

My children, a voice said. It didn't speak directly into their hearts or minds or anything like that. They didn't have any. Their souls, perhaps.

It also was not one of the four spirits, and they could not sense it at all.

I have brought you into existence to fulfill a grand purpose. You are to create a plane of existence, and fill it with wondrous things. Set aside one most perfect planet, and I will fill it with beings like yourselves.

In a state of nonexistence without sound or language yet, these words were not spoken so much as they were understood.

There was a moment of stillness as they contemplated those massive orders. They were the first orders ever given, and while the archangels had no concept of almost anything, they seemed immeasurably daunting. Frankly, though, the Almighty could have asked them to fetch her a coffee and it would have seemed immeasurably daunting.

Read on Ao3

Perhaps it was a moment, perhaps it was an eon.

Raphael thought, and considered, and imagined--

There was some sort of a bang. They were engulfed in heat and light and color, and it was already dissipating, spreading out and leaving behind cool emptiness and darkness.

They were aware of each other.

-----------------------------------------------------

They spread out after that, each creating in their own separate direction. They had quickly discovered that energy can be turned into matter. It was good, honest, tiring work, but they never seemed to deplete themselves entirely. Raphael was planning on inventing something to renew their stores of energy, though, he had had quite a bit more earlier in the day and would like it back.

They were aware of each other, and they were aware of themselves, in a way that was very odd and completely natural and deeply intrinsic. He was Raphael, God's chosen Healer, he would bring health and life and resurrection to the other beings. He is to be patron of the blind, of travelers, of doctors and nurses and medical workers. Those ill, in body or mind.sa He is a special protector of sailors and pilgrims on their voyages. He is herald of happy meetings, matchmaking, and marriage, and he doesn't know what any of those are yet, but he knows he is meant for them, that that is God's personal plan for him.

He has been given a staff, to guide and direct the feet of men, to lean on and shepherd.

He is Raphael. God Heals.

He is working with Michael, and they are creating the stars.

He knows Michael's destiny as well as he knows his own.

Michael is the advocate of the Jewish people, the strongest of the archangels, and is destined to arise in the time of the end, herald the second coming of the Christ, and be the one to personally face and defeat someone called 'Satan.'

These are largely empty words. Almost none of those things exist yet, not even as concepts, and the end of time must be very far away, because they are all fairly certain that time has just begun.

Michael is for mercy, time and time again, for long-suffering, for last-minute saves. Michael is the soldier, the great defender, the leader of the Army of God. She is to become known as the demon-slayer, and painted a thousand and one times killing a great snake or dragon.

She is the only archangel who has been granted two gifts: both a longsword and a shield. The shield is to defend those of Jewish descent, the innocents, and all those who need one last chance. The sword is to fell those for whom mercy is not an option.

She is Michael, Who Is Like God.

Michael's destiny is confusing, to say the least, nearly nonsensical in practicality. Why would they create something called 'demons' just for Michael to destroy them? Why would anything ever need to be un-created in the first place? It's not like they're going to run out of room. They could always just make more.

But anyway. They are somewhere off in the universe, and they are creating stars.

"The next one should be purple," Michael said. Raphael's face twisted. "Oh come on!" she said. "We've only done two purple ones."

"And that is more than enough."

"What do you have against purple stars?"

"No, we agreed earlier. We were going to color-code heat. Purple is a ridiculous temperature for a star. It's way too high."

"A bluish purple, then. It'll only be a little over 30,000 Kelvin," she said. 

"Fine," he said. "But we're putting it near the center, alright? It won't make sense anywhere else."

She nodded, businesslike, just a hint of excitement, and grabbed his hand, and they flew on ethereal wings through nothing, needing no friction or wind to reach the center of the universe. Michael let go of him and spun around extravagantly, hydrogen pouring out of her hands freely, infinite amounts-- enough to fuel a star.

Raphael grinned and gestured with his staff, stirring up entire deserts worth of stardust. He made it dance, like a conductor at an orchestra, spinning and twirling and threading through itself, a myriad of particles and folding and refolding, following a complicated pattern that only two beings could see. The dance was seamless, flawless, exquisite. It grew faster and faster, like a sea turning stormy, and the dust started to crash into itself. Heat grew at the center, and the particles buzzed faster. They started to gravitate, to condense and crash and rub past each other at impossible speeds.

Michael threw her hands up dramatically.

There was a spark, a tiny flicker of light, and the whole thing caught fire.

It had taken them billions of years, or maybe half an hour. None of them knew how to keep track of Time yet.

They were floating, somewhere, looking out at it.

"What are you thinking for the Perfect star?" Michael asked.

"Something yellow," he said. "Medium-sized, temperate."

"Medium?" she asked.

"As a median measure, Michael, not a mean one."

"That's so boring though," she said. "What about green?"

"There's no such thing as green stars."

"That's what'll make this one so special."

"We should probably talk to the others," he said. "The Perfect star's a big deal, isn't it? It's for the Perfect world. It should probably all be group decisions."

She rolled her eyes. But nodded anyway.

They hadn't come up with any... system or anything. But they could all sense each other. Except for Her, whoever she was. The archangels were as conscious of each other as they were of themselves. Right now, Raphael knew that Uriel was creating little things, like themselves but-- simpler. Not capable of feeling quite as much or as deeply, most content to follow orders, and each generally meant for one specific task. And Gabriel was creating something very big, and difficult, but almost laughably basic. It existed halfway in the universe and halfway out, and functioned like semi-intelligent echo machine. He was calling it Metatron, and he was hopeful that it would make Her more inclined to speak to them again.

The two of them wanted to speak to the others, and so Uriel and Gabriel knew, and they appeared.

"The Perfect world," Uriel said. "You are ready to make it?"

Michael nodded.

Uriel had a beautiful purpose. She is the angel of repentance, of light, of poetry and beauty. She is patron of both the arts and the sciences, and was given a scroll to contain her infinite wisdom. At the same time, she is to stand watch over thunder and terror, and she will be the angel of Hell and the Earth. Her role is as different from Michael's as possible. Time and time again, she will give the humans warning well in advance of something bad, and help them prevent it before it even becomes close to an issue. And when she can't do that, she will be there afterwards, offering repentance and wisdom and showing humans how to create beauty themselves. She is, quintessentially, an angel for peace, for light out of darkness.

Frankly, the only reason she wasn't creating the stars was because she insisted her little creatures were more important and they had to be done just right.

Raphael didn't question it. Uriel was the artist of their lot; surely she knew what she was talking about.

The healer, the warrior, the artist.

Uriel. God Is My Light.

"The creatures I am making," she said. "They are just like us, in a way, but there are differences. They are not as sturdy, more delicate. I was not able to give them as much power as we have. They'll function well enough as helpers, but they aren't really like us."

"Disappointing," Gabriel said. "But this is about the Perfect world, not your little..."

"Angels," she said. "I call them angels."

Gabriel is to be the messenger of God. He was given a trumpet, to herald his arrival and his sayings. He will become humanity's most well-known angel purely by virtue of how often he appears before them. He will deliver prophesies, revelations, make grand announcements, and interpret dreams and signs. He is to be patron of messengers-- telecommunication workers, radio broadcasters, postal workers, and stamp collectors. He is to watch over the angels themselves. He will be known by some as the keeper of holiness and the peacock of paradise.

Gabriel. God Is My Strength.

"The angels are relevant," Uriel said. "She said She is going to create other beings, but that they need a world to live in. If this is true, then they must be even more delicate than the beings I have created. We'll need to be very careful. Their world will have to be soft, and comforting, and free of danger."

"What's the point?" Michael asked. "They're going to have danger eventually."

"What do you mean?" Raphael asked.

"The demons," she said. "Evil ones come to harm our little creatures. Even if we just kill them right away, that still means there will need to be a war. There is no safe way to have a war."

Raphael frowned. "We could keep it off of Earth. No chance of innocent bystanders then."

Michael huffed. "The demons want innocent bystanders. They're hardly going to be so accommodating and move their battlefield if we ask nicely."

"I don't understand why there have to be demons," Gabriel said. "We're the ones creating everything. Can't we just not create demons? I mean, guys, come on. How badly do we have to screw up to let our one perfect world get infested with demons?"

"I don't think it works like that," Michael said. "Obviously, no one wants demons. None of us would ever dare create one. So that must mean it happens by accident, right? One of us is creating something, and something... goes wrong."

Gabriel turned pointedly to look at Uriel. She glared back.

"Oy," she said. "I am good at what I do. The angels are all pure souls. Perfectly obedient. I think, in time, they may even be capable of learning. Feeling more, even. If anyone is going to create a demon, it certainly won't be me."

"Maybe She creates them," Raphael said.

Michael shot him a sharp look. "Don't say things like that," she said. "It's rude. We're wasting time. There's no point arguing about who's fault demons will be. They're inevitable, and if they don't happen one way, they'll happen another. You can't prevent the future."

"Michael's right," Gabriel said. "We are going to have to deal with demons. The humans are going to have to deal with demons. We need to keep that in mind when building their planet. It needs to be as safe and secure as possible."

"Right," Raphael said. "I've been thinking about that, and I have a lot of ideas. First of all, the universe is a bit messy. There's all this space junk and scrap material floating around, and that's not even counting all the stuff that's going to break down in the future. I propose we put some really fucking huge planets in rings outside the Earth. They'll have a higher gravity, and most of the space junk will crash into them instead. Like big safety magnets to keep the Earth safe."

"Agreed," Michael said.

"I don't think we should put the Earth right next to its star, though," Uriel said. "The poor dears might overheat. We should put some planets in front of it, too, give it a bit of a buffer."

Gabriel summoned up a scroll and plucked a white feather from his wings. He set the scroll down on air and began to draw up a diagram.

"After we're done with the Earth we should really look into building an office or something," he muttered. "This is ridiculous."

"Any thoughts on the star itself?" Uriel asked, looking directly at Raphael.

"Don't--" Michael started.

"Yellow," he said. "About yeh big, lukewarm, and let's put, say, 50 million years on it."

"Do you have any idea how many yellow stars he's already made?" Michael asked. "All 'main sequence' this and 'sustainability' that. By the time humans actually get around to really looking, there's only going to be a handful of hypergiants left."

"Humans don't need hypergiants. They need a stable, temperate environment and minimal UV exposure. Look, I'm the doctor here--"

"You are definitely not a doctor."

"I am a doctor, and I'm telling you, any other type of star would be way too extreme for them. We could maybe consider a smaller white one, but I'm serious about this, guys. Their climate is going to be tricky enough to stabilize as is, and God only knows what we're going to do about atmosphere damage. I know it's not the most exciting thing in the world, but a star that is completely average in all ways is definitely our best bet here."

Uriel nodded. "I agree with Raphael. Besides," she said. "I like the idea of golden light."

"Ha HA!" Raphael crowed, preening. Michael shot him a near-lethal glare.

"That does sound pretty sick," Gabriel said. "Golden star it is. I'm marking it down."

They made the solar system, set in a mid-range zone of an average spiral galaxy, and they made a young star and grew it to maturity and gave it a set of planets.

After fierce debate, the Earth was created with very precise specifications for its orbit, size, and placement among the other planets. Then they covered it entirely in water, mostly to get Raphael to shut up about hydration already. Uriel had a proposal about giving the humans tails and gills; it was being considered.

In one second, the entire universe fell silent.

They couldn't feel Her presence. There was no physical or mental sensation that accompanied it. But.

The entire universe fell silent, and the archangels turned to look at the Earth.

It was slowly tipped on its side a bit, its axis tilting. In an instant, the oceans were flooded entirely with salt. A good-sized moon appeared around it, drifting lazily. The waters on the surface of the Earth moved and shifted, swaying and gathering and crashing in waves.

The Earth spun, starting a gentle rotation, and it began to move in its orbit, as if it had been given an encouraging nudge.

Let there be light.

The sun, so far dormant, was flicked on.

And that was how the first day passed.

----------------------------------------------------

Day 2

"Okay," Gabriel said. "So I've written up a current status report for us, and I've gotta say, guys, it's not looking good."

Raphael drummed his fingers on his staff. Currently lacking anywhere better to meet, the archangels had gathered together to sit cross-legged on one of Saturn's rings. The rings, being made almost entirely of ice, were not nearly as pleasant or inviting as they had looked from a distance.

"Right now the Earth is one big puddle of salt water and entirely incapable of supporting human life. Metraton says God has nixed the mermaid idea, so that means all that water Raphael insisted on is... undrinkable. Completely useless. Not to mention-- if humans aren't going to be water creatures, then making the entire planet out of water was a big mistake. We really screwed the pooch on day one, guys. Wow."

"We already know this," Michael said. "Don't you have anything new to say?"

"Well," Gabriel breathed, and Raphael felt something like an itching sensation inside his chest, and it made him desperately wish that Gabriel wasn't talking anymore and they were doing something else. "I went down there, and it turns out the whole planet is covered in an impenetrable layer of fog so thick that you can't see the sun through it. Also its unbreathable. So, um, the agenda for today: try to fix the atmosphere, get the seas all sorted out and divided, and, also, we still need an HQ."

"Can't that wait?" Michael asked.

"Not really, no. My butt is going numb from sitting on this stupid planet ring," he said. "Also, Metatron was pretty specific. God wants to divide the waters of the Earth, create an expanse, and build Heaven. I'm thinking all white, lots of glass-- very sleek, very modern. What do you guys think?"

No one else cared enough to answer.

"So that's it?" Uriel asked. "Sort the water into oceans and build a Heaven? That's all we're doing today?"

"Creation of the entire universe and physical plane of existence one day and the next we're designing an office," Raphael muttered. Uriel shot him a look, and he couldn't quite interpret it.

"I'll... work on the parting of the waters, but really, I think it would only take one of us to build Heaven," Michael said. "And I'd prefer to spend the day getting to know the lesser angels. I'll have to lead them as an army one day. I need to take stock of their abilities and start assigning them ranks. With your permission, of course, Uriel. They are your beings."

"They are all our beings to share," her sister said. "I created them and gave them each a purpose, but any of you are free to direct them. It's your job to turn them into the Army of God and lead them into battle. Whatever you need to do to prepare for that, you do."

Michael nodded. "Thank you." She turned back to her brothers. "Sorry if it seems like I'm skipping out. But--" she grinned, "--it's time for angelic boot camp."

"I'll also be skipping out," Uriel said. "Not for the part about Earth, of course, but I think Michael's right about designing Heaven. It should be easy. And..." She frowned. "There aren't enough angels. I can feel it. We need more."

Raphael nodded. "Whatever you think is best."

Their sisters stood elegantly, primed their wings, and took off in a blur. Had they been in an atmosphere at the moment, there would have been a whoosh of air and the clap of a sonic boom.

Gabriel grinned and flung an arm over Raphael's shoulders in a half-hug. "Looks like it's just you and me now, buddy!"

Raphael mustered a smile.

------------------------------------------------

They decided to create Heaven outside of the universe. It was originally going to exist metaphysically, but then they realized that creating a concept is all well and good, but people cannot physically go to a concept. Then they had about a three-hour debate on the nature of metaphysics. It gave Raphael quite a few ideas for Hell. He thought it should be mostly filled with annoyances.

In the end, they created an external miniature universe attached to the outside of the main one, containing solely one office building with multiple levels. There were three basements for Hell (which wasn't enough, but that was a problem for the demons to figure out), an excessive 28 upper floors for Heaven, and two floors closest to the "ground" that technically belonged to neither. One was for the Celestial Observer offices and one was for the Infernal Times. It wasn't clear who exactly would be staffing those levels, or why they were kept separate from their main realms in the first place, but then, neither Gabriel nor Raphael were actually good at thinking things through.

"I'm not saying the parallel escalators acting beyond the laws of physics are necessary. I'm saying it'll look cool," Raphael said.

"Hell doesn't need anything that looks cool. They don't deserve cool stuff. What Hell deserves is a creaky, cramped elevator from the 1970s with fake wood paneling and a carpet that's falling apart at the seems."

"Ugh," Raphael said. "But the symbolism! The metaphorical power of the entrance to each realm looking exactly the same--"

"We already agreed metaphors are stupid and hard to understand, Raphael," he reminded him tersely.

"Okay." He leaned forward, shifting completely and gesturing as he spoke. "Think of it this way. The creepy elevator probably would be cool to a demon."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's spooky, see? I bet they'd like that. Seems haunted. Exactly the sort of thing you'd expect a demon to inhabit."

"Isn't that the point?"

"No."

"No?"

"The creepy elevator would be giving Hell exactly what they wanted," Raphael said, sincere as anything. "We need to go with the not-at-all-metaphorical escalator. From a moral standpoint."

"Huh," Gabriel said. He shrugged. "Alright. Sandalphon, write that down. The main lobby gets twin escalators."

"Consider it done, my lord." Sandalphon scratched down the instruction on his scroll.

Early in the day, Gabriel had run past Michael's boot camp on Mercury and snagged one of the angels who had been sorted into the "last resort" category. He had declared Sandalphon his personal assistant, and the lesser angel had been immediately relieved to get the hell out of there.

Sandalphon was the patron angel of unborn children. He had a vacant smile and was very good at agreeing with everything Gabriel said. Raphael supposed Uriel had warned them that the other angels were... not like them, but still. He supposed he hadn't quite believed it.

When she had said they might be able to learn, he had taken that to mean that they were learning, that they were feeling and thinking and growing more complex and mature and individual by the hour.

And then he had actually met an angel, and seen absolutely no evidence of the being having a will of his own.

Useful helpers, Uriel had said.

"Now," Gabriel said. "I know we don't technically need it, but have you thought about air conditioning? I'm thinking we set all of Heaven at, like, 60 degrees and then give Hell no a/c and also it's really muggy."

"60?" Raphael asked. "Bit chilly."

Gabriel shrugged. "We're angels," he said. "It speaks well of our asceticism. And self-discipline! A proper angel does not care about either pleasure nor pain. The physical is irrelevant, and comfort is a slippery slope to hedonism. It'd be fucked up if angels started seeking things out just because they liked or enjoyed them. You start doing that, and next thing you know, you're committing ten sins a day, because it's fun. No. God's work isn't supposed to be fun. It's tough and it's grueling and it takes real effort and determination, a tougher kind of soul. The easy way out is the path to sin."

"Right you are, my lord," Sandalphon nodded.

"I know, and I agree with that," Raphael said. "But I think keeping Heaven perpetually uncomfortable might lead to a bit of resentment."

Gabriel shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

-----------------------------------------------------

The second day, being such light work, was essentially done with before noon. God had shown them all sleep the night before, and Raphael took advantage of it, indulging in a short nap on the waves of the Indian ocean, wings and limbs sprawled out luxuriously. He discovered that water felt pleasant, and that his hair turned dark and moved of its own volition when submerged.

It was cold, and misty, and sunless, but it was still infinitely better than Saturn's rings. Or-- God forbid-- the corporate monstrosity that Gabriel had turned Heaven into. He could only imagine what his sisters would have to say about that.

Probably nothing, actually.

He hadn't said anything either, really. Why bother with preferences? Gabriel was right, to a degree. He didn't think discomfort was something to aim for, but luxuries and indulgence and physical pleasure definitely weren't either. Heaven was functional. That was all it was required to be. That was all it should be.

It would be one thing for a human to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh a little bit, in moderation, keeping in mind that their first and primary joy should be doing the Lord's will. It was quite another for angels to seek out those same pleasures, when they had no need for any of the physical drives that compelled humans.

Angels do not need warmth, food, water, fresh air, sleep, entertainment, hobbies, favored friends...

Angels don't need a lot of things. But a nap did pass the time.

He woke up feeling a bit guilty, a bit agitated, and flew off to Mercury. He could check in on Michael's camp, at least.

The camp had fifteen barracks in three neat little rows. It had a bunch of other buildings Raphael could only guess at the purposes of.

It was also, for some reason, encircled with a completely pointless barbed wire fence.

He frowned flying over it and touched down in the center, next to Uriel. She was watching Michael spar with her arms folded, looking focused and vaguely perturbed.

"What's going on?" Raphael asked.

"Just look," she said.

Michael was sparring with an angel. Raphael looked at them, into their soul. Qaphsiel. Angel of tears, of temperance, presider over the deaths of reigning monarchs. Would be present at a lot of future revolutions.

Michael had her sword in her right hand and her shield strapped to her left arm. It appeared that Qaphsiel had been issued a sword dripping with lightning. Raphael looked closer, and he saw speed and anger-- both in the name of God, of course.

They were, of course, entirely outmatched. Qaphsiel fought without thinking, entirely reactively, and Michael fought... well, like she had been born to do it. She was a force of casual strength and power, almost leisurely in her movements, and Qaphsiel whipped around furiously, a blur of rapid movement. Sparks flew everywhere, and at some point, Michael's shield was completely electrified.

Seconds later, she had Qaphsiel pinned to the ground and practically frothing at the mouth.

Michael stood up, releasing her opponent. Qaphsiel jumped to their feet, threw their sword to the ground, and marched off into the gathered crowd of spectators. A good number of other angels heckled them as they went.

"Who's next?" Michael called.

A small wisp of a girl stepped forward. She had a large, gray-patterned quill in her hand, which she handed over to a fellow angel and was then given a simple shortsword. Michael had apparently created a store of weapons, for those angels who were not naturally battle-inclined.

This angel was Penemue, curer of stupidity. A mostly quiet watcher. There was... something off. Raphael couldn't see any more.

She took her sword up hesitantly, and held it... correctly, but only in the most technical sense. She waited for Michael to strike first, and then seemed to make only a token effort at defending herself. She was disarmed in thirty seconds, and didn't seem phased at all. She gave a small smile and a shrug in response to the crowd’s jeering and... shouts of encouragement.

Raphael frowned.

"How many have been like that?" he asked.

"Too many," Uriel said.

"Have they been... talking? Why are they doing this?"

"I don't know what's going on. I do know none of them are stupid enough to say anything outright in front of an archangel."

He considered that. Michael finished her parting bits of instruction to Penemue, and a new angel took her place. Jehoel. Angel of fire. Seemed to actually take this seriously and make an effort. Thank God.

"They can tell you're an archangel?" he asked, watching the fight. It was going well. It might even last a full five minutes. Jehoel was good.

"Michael announced it," Uriel said. "I flew in when she was giving a lecture on, like, tackling or whatever. She stopped everything to announce me and made everyone bow."

Raphael made a noise.

"I know," she agreed.

"Well," he said. "She hasn't done that with me, at least. Maybe I can figure something out."

"Good luck," she said. He raised an eyebrow, giving her half a smile.

Luck was an occult force, naturally, an evil thing to believe in, much less to wish upon someone. Only God should be invoked for granting good fortune. Anything else is idolatry.

Raphael gave his sister a parting wave and sauntered off.

---------------------------------------------------

The camp was larger than it had first looked from the air. Even with 50-70 angels crowded around to watch Michael decimate patiently decimate all of them, there was still a huge number just roaming about. It didn't take long to find a fair group of them, sitting around in the shade of one of the barracks, carefully keeping out of the scorching sun.

Raphael took a seat among them unceremoniously, and the angels closest scooched over a bit to make room.

"It's a bit messed up. That's all I'm saying," one angel said, clearly on the tail end of a rant.

"What is?" Raphael asked. Someone else rolled their eyes, and several people groaned.

"Don't get him started again."

"No, no. He should hear this," the first angel said. "This affects all of us. We're angels, right? We were created to... what, serve? Fight and die in some war? What war? Against who? And we're fighting for God? Well I've never met God. I didn't agree to this, I didn't ask for this. I was born yesterday and told I'm meant to be cannon fodder for some distant unknowable God. Who says She's worth it? Who the hell said I was willing to die for Her? To kill for Her? Because it sure as fuck wasn't me."

The other angels made rough sounds of agreement.

"I'm... not meant for war," he said. Azazel. This was Azazel. "I can feel it. And Michael and Uriel and them, they can see it, too. It's my destiny. I am meant to teach humans, and to lead angels, and to rebel. There's something more there, too, there's this word I keep seeing-- it's 'scapegoat,' but I don't know what it means yet."

An icy chill flung itself over Raphael's heart.

"Rebel?" he asked. "Rebel against what?"

Azazel shrugged and laughed, sort of hollowly. "I don't know yet, but right now, I'm thinking this bullshit."

The other angels and cheered encouragement. 

Azazel gave a slanting grin, but then sobered up again, his eyes dark and his tone serious. "That's exactly what it is, though. Bullshit. The archangels do not speak for me. God does not speak for. No one should be able to decide my life and death. I am not a pawn, I am not to be used. I'm a person, dammit!"

The angels cheered.

"I have rights!" Azazel continued. "I have a right to live! I have a right to decide for myself who I worship! Or don't worship! Who says I have to give my life in service to someone else? Why give me life just to tell me it's not truly my own?"

"The draft is immoral," another angel spat.

"The draft is immoral!" Azazel shouted, louder.

"Vive la révolution!" someone else shouted, and it was chaos after that.

-------------------------------------------------

There was something of a war council room, in one of the base's many outbuildings, and Raphael went there with the instinctive knowledge that that's where Uriel and Michael would be.

"Well," he said. "I found out what's going on."

Michael leaned forward, hands folded on top of her desk.

"There's dissension in the ranks," he said dryly. "It appears we have some angels who are unhappy being forced into war."

Michael frowned. "But it's inevitable. We will all be forced into war. Every creature in existence will have to fight in this war. There's no avoiding it."

"Yeah, well try telling them that," he drawled, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. "It's like they think if they just refuse to fight, then maybe they can have peace," he said. He frowned. "Could we have peace?"

"No," Michael said, in a tone that brokered no argument. "The demons are pure evil and cannot be allowed to continue. It's too dangerous. We need to wipe them from existence."

"Too dangerous?" he asked. "Wait, so choosing to start a war that all of creation will be sucked into is less dangerous than trying to make some sort of an agreement with the demons? What about... What about the innocents? Children? Humans who aren't really on one side or the other? They shouldn't... They shouldn't suffer the horrors of war."

"Casualties are inevitable on all sides, Raphael," Michael said calmly. "And if they are truly innocent, there is no shame in martydom. There's a good deal of honor, actually."

"There's nothing honorable about a dead kid," he said. "A dead kid is a shame on all the adults who allowed it. Every single person who failed them. That's a stain on all of our souls."

Michael rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if they die, Raphael," she said. "They just go straight to Heaven. Well. Usually."

----------------------------------------------------

Day 3

"Okay!" Gabriel said brightly. They were in a white conference room in Heaven. It had a long table with more empty seats than they would ever need, glaring fluorescents, uncomfortable chairs, and chrome accents. It was entirely possible that one of the levels of Heaven was actually just ten identical clones of this room, to be used almost never for meetings-that-could-have-been-emails and left empty the majority of the time.

Felt a bit wasteful. They probably could have used that space as more 'living' quarters for deceased human souls. Raphael wasn't exactly sure where they were going to put all of them. He knew the space worked miraculously, but still, he wondered if it was possible to reach maximum capacity. Maybe he should bring that up later, attempt to work out a back-up plan.

"So we have a lot on the agenda today," Gabriel said. "Yesterday was an anomaly, don't get used to it. Today we are creating landforms! We are then going to cover these landforms in plants. Should take all day, and I'll be up front with you guys, it sounds like it's gonna suck."

They agreed to make seven continents, to go with the seven seas, because God had decided that seven was a holy number that signified completion.

Gabriel made Antarctica and Europe. Michael made North America and Africa. Uriel made Australia and Asia. Raphael made South America and all the world's islands.

He just kept creating more and more species of tropical plants, and he kept yammering on about biodiversity and medicinal uses, and he knew it was annoying, but he couldn't seem to shut up.

Uriel smiled gently and said they were all works of art, the Amazon Rainforest his magnum opus, but he saw Michael roll her eyes and Gabriel smother a laugh.

He felt something strange in his chest.

He went down to the Earth personally at times, pulling fruit apart with his hands and dropping seeds onto moist dirt. The Earth was still covered in a haze. It was light enough to see by, just barely, and it was keeping things hydrated.

He wandered his rainforest, and he could just imagine it, full of life and loud. He'd have bugs, bugs everywhere. God, he hopes he gets to create some bugs. And there'll be animals! Swinging from the trees and scittering into the undergrowth. There'd be large things that stalked the jungle like kings, there'd be small things that burrowed into the trees themselves. And he'd picked a prime spot, really, it would be a true rain forest.

Birds. So many birds. He'd criticized Michael for her gaudy stars, but hell, he wanted colorful birds. Big and bright and loud. The Earth was so silent so far. Even with the plants, it still felt lifeless.

He needed proof, constantly and verbally. He would fill the Amazon to the brim with life and make it buzz and hum and sing.

When he got finished with South America, he flew west to an island and wondered how he could make it different. He knelt in dark, lush dirt, his gown and hands and feet and face already smudged with it, and he grinned.

When he returned to Heaven, filthy and exhausted and sweating, beaming like a jackal, Gabriel gave him a disapproving frown and pointed him to the showers.

"No wonder it took you so long," he said. "The rest of us finished hours ago. What, were you planting things by hand?"

"Yeah," he said. "Only a little bit, though. There's something to be said for doing things the long way. Caring for the Earth like a human would, really experiencing the world and putting yourself in their shoes. That's what it's all about."

"No it isn't," Gabriel said, frowning. "We're supposed to prepare the Earth for the humans and then hand it off. Distant protectorship only. We have serious matters to handle that mortals aren't capable of comprehending. The assignment today was to plant, Raphael, not to play in the dirt like a child. It's one thing to take joy in the Lord's work, but She can't have you wasting time that isn't your own. You get that, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Right."

Gabriel smiled. "Showers are on Level 5, left of the human soul dorms."

 -----------------------------------------------

The main problem with angels so far is that Michael, carrying a longsword, soaked in mortal blood and leading one group of humans against another, seemingly at random, is considered the most out of all of them, like God; while Uriel, advocating science and art and forgiveness-- enlightenment-- is often overlooked or forgotten to be an archangel entirely, as if there are just three of them, or she is tacked on as an afterthought to make it an even number. There's something deeply horrible in that, but fuck if Raphael can put it into words.

He knows, in theory, that none of the archangels are greater or lesser than the others. It would just be nice if the rest of creation would get the memo.

Unfortunately, sending a memo would probably just make them worship Gabriel even more.

--------------------------------------------------

The showers were these sort of ultra-modern air-blaster thingies, no water needed. Very efficient. Made you quickly and flawlessly clean. Raphael stepped out feeling a bit like he had just fought a tornado and lost, and he just knew that his hair looked like it.

He put on a fresh robe and stepped out of the showers, then hesitated.

The work for the day was done. He had fulfilled his assignment. There was nothing more that he had to do.

He could go visit the lesser angels and hear them talk, give them a chance to air their grievances. Explain to them why following the Almighty was just and good and desirable, a privilege really. Tell them why their cause was holy.

Because demons (who didn't even exist yet) were bad, and need to be stopped. Because She created us, all life, and so we owe Her.

He left Heaven discreetly and flew back to Earth.

The trees in the Amazon were tall. The canopy was thick. Even if there had been anything to see beyond it, Raphael wouldn't have been able to.

When he got tired of thinking, he closed his eyes and made it all go away.

-------------------------------------------------

Day 4

"There is no work today," Gabriel announced.

"What?" Raphael asked.

"No work," he said.

"We can't possibly be done," Michael said. "There are no humans. Unless-- Is She making the humans today?"

"Nope," Gabriel said. "But she is parting the great fog of mist that has encased the Earth. Should make it possible to see the sun and the moon and the stars from the surface. Also, it'll apparently make breathing way easier. Should you wish to indulge in breathing, of course. I don't recommend. It could be jarring if you need to suddenly stop for some reason."

"So, wait, we're clearing the fog today but we aren't doing any work?" Raphael asked. "Oh. Oh! She's clearing the fog?"

"That is correct," Gabriel said. "Metatron has relayed the Almighty's wishes to me directly. The air is going to be remixed in preparation for humans being given the breath of life. It sounds like very delicate work. I recommend that we all avoid the planet today."

His gaze wandered over to Raphael, who stiffened in his chair.

"This is excellent news," Michael said. "The other angels are hopeless in a fight. We have no way of knowing how long we have until the demons crop up, and we are woefully unprepared right now. Unless any of you need some, I'd like to put every single angel through their paces today."

"Agreed," Gabriel said. "Well, except Sandalphon. I'm planning to use this bit of free time to get the office organized. I need him as an assistant. I need to assign a secretary, set up a filing system, design forms, figure out what we could use forms for... There's so much to do, guys."

"I think I'll invent the written word today," Uriel said.

Michael hummed. "That's lovely."

There was a beat of silence.

"Raphael?" Michael asked.

"Oh!" He sat up, snapping to attention. "I, uh... I'll figure something out. Um, I've been meaning to talk to the other angels, actually. Give them a bit of a pep talk. Strengthen our troops, ya know?"

Michael gave him a thin smile.

-----------------------------------------------------

Michael was giving a swordfighting seminar to a crowd of a thousand angels. Unfortunately, Uriel had managed to make 20 million of them in two days, so that meant most angels weren't in attendance.

Some of the more trusted angels had been put in charge of their respective barracks and told to make sure everyone did their exercises. This did not happen.

Gabriel was allegedly working on arranging for civilian angelic housing in Heaven, but who knew how long that would take? Especially since all the plans, memos, and notices were currently written in random inkblots that conveyed concepts through magic. It worked, a bit, but it was very unreliable. Having a written language would be-- to borrow a phrase-- a godsend.

Probably should have invented that earlier, really. In fairness, they are all very new at this.

Raphael was wandering the base camp, letting his feet guide him on instinct. He felt something momentous in the air. A thrill of excitement and importance.

There was no work today, but that didn't mean nothing was going to happen. Twenty million souls in existence. One of them was bound to do something interesting.

As it turned out, something interesting happened in the mess hall.

Azazel was sitting on top of a long cafeteria table, gesturing and speaking passionately. He had a much larger audience than his small handful of listeners two days ago. Raphael frowned and moved closer.

He suddenly stood up on the table, near-shouting, and the crowd grew more agitated. They went from murmuring to shouting. Raphael saw another angel jump up on the table and punch a fist into the air.

"God has no inherent right to rule and we should be able to choose our own system of government! We create our own society! We should start a democracy! I reject--"

He never got to finish the sentence.

They were all on the top floor of Heaven.

The kid was standing apart from the crowd, in the center. His eyes were wide, his wings bound in heavy chains behind him.

He wasn't a kid, really. Raphael reminded himself of that. His physical form may look young, but that was merely an illusion, and even then, his body was old enough to be technically an adult.

Didn't stop him from looking like a scared kid looking frantically out at the crowd.

Uriel stepped forward. "Lucifer," she said. "Bringer of light, angel of Venus. You have questioned God's authority. You have asserted that one such as yourself is fit to rule in Her position."

She stared deeply at him. Tilted her head. "You regret that you are in trouble," she said. "But you still believe what you said was truth."

She straightened. "I sentence you to Hell."

Uriel stepped back to the edge of the crowd. Lucifer's face drained rapidly of all color.

And then the floor dropped out beneath him.

------------------------------------------------------

10,000 more angels fell in the next three hours, righteous rage and sympathy taking root in their hearts.

Raphael watched and watched and watched.

The gush slowed to a flow, then a trickle.

He felt numb. He got on the escalator. He went down to Hell.

In the center of the lowest level of Hell was a shallow pit filled with fire. It was filled with lowly creatures and insects. The demons were groaning, wailing in agony. Some were dragging themselves out of the pit. They put their bodies back together, as close as they could to what they had before. They were covered in warts, in gashes and injuries. They were missing parts and had parts discolored. Their feathers had all burnt off in the fall and immediately grew back, this time in stark, shocking black. Some of them were missing feathers, some of them were still smoking. A lot were crying blood.

Raphael walked as close to the pit as he dared. "I'll heal you," he said. "Anyone who needs it. Come over here, and I'll heal you."

---------------------------------------------------

He found out there were some things he couldn't heal.

He couldn't turn black wings white again. He couldn't get rid of the warts or slime or horns that some had acquired. He couldn't erase the memory of the Fall.

Penemue had described it haltingly. She said it had taken eons, that she had wanted to die, that she had felt part of her soul be ripped out. Raphael had wanted desperately to tell her to stop, that he knows she is the curer of stupidity but he would really rather be stupid and ignorant about this, he didn't want to know, thanks.

He didn't, though. He said nothing. He listened. He healed her burns and broken bones.

It had been a long, hard Fall.

The demons kept coming. Whatever was happening up above wasn't stopping. And there were so many of them, just so many, and Raphael could only heal one demon at a time. Demons are capable of healing things too, of course-- but not heavenly injuries.

Being stabbed by a human with a human-made sword is vastly different from a God-given weapon rending your very soul in half. Fortunately, none of the demons had been smote. Bound and pushed down a 34-story drop had dire physical effects, but it wasn't fatal.

Raphael left briefly to go upstairs and request more angels to come down and help. He promised repeatedly that he wouldn't be gone more than five minutes.

"So that's where you went," Michael said.

"Yeah. Listen, I really need more angels, specifically healers. There's too many of them down there. I've barely made a dent in it."

"Good," Gabriel said. "That's good."

"What?"

"That you've only healed a few. Better than the alternative," he said. "You aren't going back there."

"What?" he asked. "No, that doesn't make sense. Even with a thousand angel healers, I'm the best qualified to direct their efforts. I need to be down there."

"No you don't," Michael said. "Uriel is the angel of Hell. She is the only one capable of walking through there unscathed. What you have done is a fluke, obviously. We can't risk it again, and certainly not any more angels.

"Where's Uriel, then?" he demanded. "Someone needs to go down there and heal those people. I promised."

"She's still damning the traitors," Gabriel said. "You know, her actual duty as the angel of Hell. There's a line formed now, and a long one, too. People keep talking. She'll be busy for the next few days, at least."

"Then I need to go back."

"No. Absolutely not," Michael said. "The point of a punishment is that it's bad, Raphael. It hurts, mentally or physically or both, and it makes you realize you were a moron and brought this on yourself and it fills you with regret. You undoing the punishment right away is in direct counter to God's wishes."

His eyes flashed. "You want them to suffer?"

Michael folded her arms. "No. Of course not," she said. "I would prefer they hadn't sinned at all. But since they have, they have to pay the price and face the consequences. They all know what they are by now."

"It's sick," Raphael said. "This is sick. Let me heal them."

"Raphael," Gabriel said, gently, resting a hand on his arm. "They aren't worth the trouble. You aren't meant to heal demons. A righteous person is meant to hate that which is evil. It's okay, you know. There are exceptions to love for all things."

Raphael's ears were ringing. Funny. He hadn't known they could do that.

"Ah," he said. "I-- hadn't considered that. Thank you."

Gabriel nodded. "Of course."

"Want to come back and watch more of the trials with us?" Michael asked. "It's very spiritually uplifting. Creation is all well and good in its own way, but there is no greater work than keeping God's kingdom clean and free from reproach. Separating the wheat from the weeds, as it were."

"Ah," Raphael said, again. "Um, no thank you. All that healing, it-- a bit-- sapped my energy. Angels definitely aren't meant to perform miracles on demons, that much is for certain." He laughed nervously. "Thank you so much for catching that. I don't know what I was thinking. I think being down there, with the hellfire, and the... demons-- messed with my head. Must have. Boy! Am I making sense? I don't feel like I'm making sense. I need to go take a nap."

On the fourth day of creation, the lie was invented.

"Perhaps that'd be best," Michael agreed.

"We'll fill you in on the trials tomorrow," Gabriel offered. "I left Sandalphon up there. He is rearranging the entries in the Book of Life, and he said he's going to remember all the drama so we can have something of a highlights reel in our morning meeting tomorrow."

"Thought that was for archangels only," Raphael said.

Gabriel waved a dismissively. "Sandalphon's cool. He's my friend!"

Both Michael and Raphael shot him strange looks, but Gabriel didn't seem to notice. Michael turned back to her red-haired brother. "Go. Get some sleep. We'll see you again in the morning," she said.

Raphael nodded, and turned to leave.

"Wait," she said. "Raphael. I'm sorry you had to see that. All the demons, down there."

"Yeah," he said, voice thick. "So am I."

He walked back to the angelic dormitories. He kept on walking, and discovered that the floor above them contained luxury apartment suites, set aside for the archangels. He went into his own, and found that it looked exactly like the rest of Heaven: white, sleek, modern. It was perhaps a bit more indulgent.

It had a balcony, and that suited his purposes perfectly well, actually: he had been planning on merely passing through his rooms before finding an alternate way out.

Instead, he stood on the ledge of the balcony and spread his wings.

He tipped forward, and let himself fall in a controlled dive.

Given that Heaven and Hell exist within a pocket universe created solely to contain them, there is no "outside" for either. To leave the building is to leave the universe. So, when Raphael fell, he promptly blipped out of existence in one universe and was reanimated at a random point in the other, which happened to be in the vicinity of the IC 1101 galaxy.

Pity. He had been hoping to land closer to Earth.

Not that he "landed" at all, really.

He sighed and pushed his wings against vacuum, turning in the direction of Sol.

---------------------------------------------------

There are many ways into Heaven and Hell. When sneaking out of one and into the other, Raphael traveled through a universal wormhole in his bedroom, flew through space, and then scanned the Earth until he found what humans would later call the Grand Canyon. He dove headfirst like a bird of prey, and then flared his wings out and came to a running stop. The canyon walls arched high and towering over him.

He let his feet guide him on instinct, the staff in his hand making an excellent walking stick. Soon enough, he stopped before a large boulder nestled up against the canyon wall.

He gestured with his staff, and the boulder moved out of the way.

The door opened to a room on the second level of Hell, small and cramped and full of currently-empty filing cabinets. It would be spillover storage, a few millennia from now.

Raphael stepped out of the storage room and into a narrow, damp hallway with flickering lights.

A smaller demon froze in his tracks, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Excuse me," Raphael said. "I don't suppose you could direct me to the Pit?" 

--------------------------------------------------------

Hell seemed to be getting organized. There was a lot less pitiful wailing now, and more of a thrum of angry, vengeful tension in the air. Raphael could practically feel the demons turning bitter around him.

The demon Amy led him into the Pit, and everyone hushed, turning to stare at the glowing white archangel. The hush lasted all of a second, and then the demons were murmuring.

Amy stood awkwardly at his side, clearly wanting to leave and, more importantly, not be seen with him, but unsure if that was permitted.

"You can go," Raphael said. "Unless you'd like me to heal you first. You've got-- a broken leg."

And severe burns and flames for hair and glowing red coals for eyes, but Raphael could already tell he wouldn't be able to heal any of that.

Amy made a squeaking sound and started in on nervous stuttering. He caught sight of other demons striding towards them, and immediately bolted.

Raphael straightened, and looked head on to face Beelzeble. The prince was attended by Dagon on one side and Orobas on the other.

"Your Highness," Raphael said, with a slight bow of his head. "I wasn't expecting you here. Gabriel will have a hard time replacing you."

"He'll never be able to. No one will ever rule as I would have done," ze said. "My name is Beelzebub now. I'm afraid 'Princess of Heaven' is long since behind me. I'm ruling flies now." Ze cast a sardonic look up at the massive insect that formed the top of zir head. "Clever pun. Your sister's a creative one."

Raphael's lips twisted. "Are you in charge down here?"

"Yes. One of seven princes. We're getting a system in place."

"Excellent. In that case, Prince Beelzebub, I request permission to heal your subjects."

Ze folded zir arms. "Am I meant to trust one of the archangels who banished us?"

He rolled his eyes. "You think a lone angel would come down to the bottom depths of Hell to pick a fight? There must be thousands of you!"

"30,000 and counting," the prince said. "But I will not underestimate the arrogance of an archangel. Credit where credit is due. You're a powerful being. If you died in Hell-- no matter what the circumstances-- you'd be a martyr. And it'd give Heaven the perfect excuse to swarm down here and slaughter us."

"I am a healer," he said. "I don't kill, I create. Michael's the warrior."

Beelzebub arched an eyebrow at that, and yes, okay, with zem having worked directly under Gabriel, he could see where ze would have zir doubts.

He sighed. "If you're so worried about it, then post a guard," he said. "Though I want you to know this is fully ridiculous. I'm risking more than you are here."

Ze frowned. "How so?"

"I'm not exactly supposed to be here," he muttered. "Apparently, a proper angel would just leave you to suffer. I'd tell you to keep it quiet, but you have no one to tell, do you?"

"Not quite yet. We'll put a system in place eventually," ze said. "I don't require a guard for you. Your little rebellion is leverage enough."

"I'm here voluntarily," he said. "There's no need for the posturing."

"And there's no need for you to tell me how to protect my own people, either."

--------------------------------------------------

Day 5

Raphael crept back into Heaven an hour before the morning briefing was scheduled, exhausted in a way he had never experienced before. Healing took only a minuscule fraction of his energy, not even noticeable compared to creation. It was strange. Almost like he had been exhausted by merely talking to the demons.

Almost every single one so far had been banished for sinful emotions or thoughts. Some had committed actual evil deeds-- Azazel, of course, spread doubt and dissension. Lucifer committed apostasy, loudly and publicly-- a twofold sin in its potential to stumble others. Raum had managed to make an announcement throughout all of Heaven that the archangels were corrupt and should be attacked on sight. A few had tried to go down fighting, and a few previously devout angels had become enraged at the sight of so many being damned, one after another. There was a rumor-- completely unconfirmed-- that Beelzebub fell while speaking privately with Gabriel, and absolutely no one knew why, or what had been said.

They were all so keen to tell their story, especially to an angel, an archangel, even.

And Raphael listened and the words wore him down. He was exhausted, and it wasn't through any physical exertion.

A few were completely silent throughout the entire procedure, watching him with wary eyes and tense muscles. Somehow, those demons were worse.

He dragged himself into the conference room, feeling frayed and deadened all at once.

Gabriel straightened a scroll and laid it out neatly on the table before him. "Alright," he said. "So! Yesterday we did nothing, and it was a total disaster. As of two hours ago, we had 197,083 angels fallen. Uriel here has been working nonstop. On the plus side, though, now we know where demons come from."

"No one will ever create a demon," Uriel said. "Demons create themselves."

A moment of silence hung in the air.

"Have they stopped falling?" Raphael asked.

"No," Uriel said. "But I'm taking a break. The rest can wait in line."

Gabriel nodded. "As they should. We have actual work today. Thank God, as apparently idle hands are the Devil's tools. Today, we are supposed to create fish and related sea creatures, birds and related flying things, and all manner of insects."

"I'm afraid I'll have to bow out," Uriel said. "I just came for the meeting. To stay informed, you know? I'm still busy damning the souls of the wicked."

Michael and Gabriel nodded sagely. Raphael thought of Lucifer and Penemue and Amy, even Beelzebub.

He was pretty sure none of them had been evil until someone told them they were. He's pretty sure, actually, that Hell is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you tell someone that they are evil incarnate, that they are demonic, for breaking any slightest rule or speaking out of turn, if you punish them maximally for the slightest offenses and send them to Hell for it, broken and mutilated and alone, stripped of everything they had built their identity on... Well, yeah. He thinks you'd get some villains out of that. You'd create a veritable factory of them.

Uriel was wrong.

Demons don't create themselves. Absolute authoritarian control creates demons out of anyone who steps out of line.

He wonders how, between creating the stars and taking a rest day, they got to this point.

"What's it like down there?" Gabriel asked conspiratorially, like it was a secret. He was fishing for gossip, not an official update. "Or, well, up there, I mean?"

"Efficient," Uriel said. "The demons' sins are stated, so the public can be aware. I peer into their soul to search for repentance."

"And then you drop the floor out," Gabriel said. Uriel nodded.

"Have any of them repented?" Raphael asked.

"Not a one," Uriel said. "Some are regretful. They wish it hadn't happened, or they're 'apologetic,' and wish it didn't have to be this way. Some wish they had never had whatever thought got them sent up there. But there's been no true repentance. None have disavowed those thoughts and emotions-- or actions-- and sworn to do everything within their power to prevent future stumblings. It's one thing to wish you hadn't done something. It's another to own that it was wrong, that you personally did wrong, and to solemnly promise never to do it again."

Michael gave a faint smile. "You truly are the angel of wisdom and mercy, Uriel."

Her sister ducked her head. "Thank you."

Sandalphon leaned forward across the conference table towards Gabriel. "Some of them have been crying," he said, a gleam in his eyes. "Great big sobs, snot dripping everywhere, face just soaked in tears and they can't stop."

Gabriel grinned, leaning forward with interest.

"A few of them even begged for mercy," Sandalphon continued. "Saying they'll do anything, anything, for a second chance. Means nothing, of course, if they can't take it back un-feel or un-think whatever shit they fell for."

Gabriel huffed a laugh. "Serves them right."

Michael gave a small, glinting smile. "It's just a shame we can't have all of the angels watching," she said. "Aside from the first few Falls, the numbers have been going down. It's a wonderful lesson for them all to learn, it really shows just what price sin pays, and the public nature of it increases the shame and taboo, but, unfortunately, we need them to get back to work. Well, at least some of them."

"Yes," Gabriel sighed. "God certainly won't wait for us. We need to have the Earth ready for humanity by tomorrow. Speaking of which, we need to discuss angelic hierarchy, duties, structure and all that. I'd put a few people in position tentatively yesterday, but we've since lost most of them. Beelzeble, especially, is... irreplaceable."

"I asked Michael for ten of her most loyal soldiers to be posted as guards on the line," Uriel said. "We've had some instances of demons-to-be attempting to fight their way out and run away, as well as angels in the audience going into fits and rushing the line."

"What? Why?" Gabriel asked.

"They were attempting to free the damned," Uriel said. "I added them to the line, of course. If they're so anxious to be with their fellows, then I certainly won't stand in the way."

Michael snorted.

Gabriel straightened his scroll again and peered down at it. "Yes, well, onto managerial organization. I've come up with a number of different ranks and duties, I would of course welcome any input you guys have to offer. There shall be three Orders of angels. In the highest order, we will have the seraphim, the cherubim, and the thrones. In the middle order, we will have the dominions, the virtues, and the powers. And in the lowest order, we will have the principalities, the archangels-- that's us, and any unsorted minion angels."

Silence.

"Hey Gabriel," Michael said. "Why are we in the lowest order?"

"To show our humility," he said. "This makes us better than all of the other angels, actually, and super virtuous."

Raphael had so many things he wanted to say to that, but none that could sufficiently defeat... that particular logic. It appeared that all the other archangels were thinking along the same lines, too.

And they ended up going along with it, purely because no one wanted to be the one to explain why that was unbelievably stupid.

They spent the next hour talking about duties and domains. Or rather, Gabriel and Michael spent the next hour talking. Michael already had ideas in her head about how she wanted to structure her army and who she wanted at the top, and Gabriel had somehow become Heaven's manager when no one was looking.

Raphael slumped in his chair and picked at his fingernails. Sandalphon was watching the conversation with that eerie expression of blank placidity on his face. It was a lot creepier now that Raphael knew he actually did have thoughts in his head, and they apparently featured the enjoyment of others' suffering.

Uriel, at least, had enough soul to look bored and impatient.

Finally, the meeting wound down, and they all stood from their chairs. Raphael stretched and gave his wings a few good flaps to loosen them.

"Okay," Gabriel said, while Raphael was just five steps from the door, and he cursed internally. "So, just to recap: bugs, birds, and fish. Uriel is casting out the fallen, I am designing birds, Michael is designing fish, and Raphael is taking the insects. Oh! And Haniel and Netzach want to get married. Raphael, I was figuring you could handle that? If you have some spare time today?"

"What?" he asked. "Wait. Um, handle it how?"

"You are the patron angel of marriage," Gabriel said. "As well as an authority figure over both of them. It doesn't get more ordained than that."

"The first marriage in Heaven," Uriel said, smiling. "That sounds lovely. The angels could use something to boost their morale, after yesterday. Oh, we should do it first thing."

"Marriage?" Michael asked. "Among angels? Seems a bit... indulgent, don't you think?"

"It's not technically a sin," Gabriel said. "So long as they remember to always put God and duty first, and never let their love for each other exceed their love for the work. 'Sides," he shrugged. "We need to show that we will reward loyalty. Marrying the souls of two joint administrators sends a great message."

Raphael remembered him saying something earlier, while doling out assignments, about making both Haniel and Netzach the chiefs of the principalities, as they refused to be separated and wouldn't get any work done alone anyway.

Those jobs had been seemingly assigned at random. For some reason, Raphael was now in charge of the virtues, which were apparently meant to be sign-giving and miracle-performing angels. Raphael was going to have to deal with symbolism at some point.

He didn't know shit about symbolism.

Zaphkiel had been assigned as chief of thrones, and Zadkiel was chief of dominions, and Raphael was 100% going to mix them up constantly. Several angels had been sorted into multiple different categories. Camael was apparently leader of the powers despite being one of the dominions. In true fashion, Beelzebub hadn't been replaced. Gabriel had simply increased his own workload and Sandalphon's authority. It was chaos.

He was fairly certain Haniel and Netzach were only being given their position and their wedding as a publicity stunt.

He was also fairly certain that it crossed the line just a little bit too far and qualified as propaganda at this point.

He wasn't, fortunately, stupid enough to say it, however.

"Are you okay?" Uriel asked quietly, as they followed their siblings out the door. "You haven't said much today."

Raphael shrugged. "I don't have anything to say."

-----------------------------------------------------

Heaven-- of course-- had one floor that was just a massively large ballroom. It was ridiculously huge to begin with, and had some sort of miracle on it that allowed it to be large enough to hold all 20 million angels without being overcrowded. It had been designed for galas and holiday parties and, naturally, weddings.

Just because it was large enough to hold everyone's physical manifestation did not, in any sense, mean that everyone had a view. Gabriel had attempted to remedy this by having a construction crew of angels install flatscreens and speakers around the room.

He had sent out a memo to summon all of the angels to the ballroom, and there was a lot of excited/nervous chattering, and then Raphael stood from his seat silently and made his way to the front of the room. The angels quieted as he passed.

He took his place and waited, and all of Heaven watched quietly as the two brides took their walks.

Haniel and Netzach stood before him, facing each other, clutching at each others' hands, fragile, breathless smiles on their faces. Raphael gave them a soft smile of his own.

"Haniel, Joy of God, Grace of God, Leader of the Principalities," he said. "And Netzach, angel of eternity, Leader of the Principalities. All the souls of Heaven have been assembled before you to bear witness to this moment. Today, we will join you two together in holy matrimony. This is the first marriage in all of history, in all of Time. You will set a precedent to be honored throughout the eternity you represent. You are both leaders among angels in more ways than one. Yours is the marriage between equals in all ways. It will be a celebration of love.

"As God's angels, we all have love amongst ourselves. It is expected. It's what's natural. We are creatures sculpted from pure light, built out of love and designed to love every other thing. But the love between those who are married is different. The love of an angel for the universe is static. It is calm, and simple, and pure. The love of a soul for their marriage mate is entirely different. It's boundless. The marriage between two spirit creatures is truly the binding of your souls. Your joy will be her joy, your sadness will be her sadness, and in this way, you will be one flesh. The love of one for their marriage mate is ceaseless, it's defiant against all odds, it's enduring and changeable and everlasting.

"As marriage mates, you must value each other and each other's happiness above all other pursuits. You must continue to offer your devotion and love, no matter what the circumstances, so long as your wife is doing the same. Can you do that? Can you swear to me that you will do that? Netzach?"

"I swear," the angel said, eyes burning with solemnity.

"Good. And Haniel?"

"I swear." She nodded.

"You are the angels of joy and eternity, and I wish you to have exactly that. Blessed be your union."

"Blessed be your union," the assembled crowd echoed.

The two brides fell into each others' arms, embracing giddily. Haniel grinned and pulled back, brushing her wife's curls out of her face and leaning in for a kiss, right there in front of the assembled Host of Heaven. Netzach's eyes widened, and her hands came up to clutch at Haniel and return the gesture desperately.

They flew off into the crowd, hand in hand and beaming, and the entire ballroom was clamoring.

Gabriel sidled up to him out of nowhere. "Well, I have to say," he said. "After all that shit you said, I'm thinking maybe marriage is a sin after all."

He smiled, and gave a bit of a laugh, but his eyes were hard.

Raphael met his gaze head on. "It is the nature of marriage," he said. "It was created as an expression of utmost devotion. She designed it as an outlet for a stronger, more intense form of love. I think of it as one of Her kindest and best creations."

"For humans, maybe," Gabriel said. "I don't think it's really meant for angels, though. Pure devotion? Love more intense than that we have for creation?"

Raphael nodded. "Marriage is beautiful. It's a celebration. I believe the more love we feel, the more angelic we are. To feel a deeper love, and find someone who feels the same and share that devotion with each other-- I think we can achieve nothing better."

"It sounds gross," Gabriel said flatly.

"Not all forms of love are for everybody," Raphael said gently. "But you don't need all forms of love to have a healthy marriage. The physical, obviously, should only be indulged in if all partners feel inclined towards it. But it's not necessary for anything. I think humans will tend to be a bit more... inclined, than most angels are. And platonic love can be just as deep and intense and enduring as romantic love. It's not secondary, not in any way. Just a little bit different."

"No, that's gross too," Gabriel said.

"What?"

"All love," he said. "Even without the... sex, and the kissing, and the romance. Friendship is bad too."

"Excuse me?"

"Servants of God should be devoted to Her and solely Her," he said. "We are to do Her work and fulfill Her will and that's it. Frankly, it sounds sinful to show favoritism like that."

"Sinful?" he asked. "Love is not sinful!"

"Isn't it, though?" he asked. "We should give love equally to all Her creations. We are meant to protect and serve. What if one day you had to choose between protecting your wife and following the Great Plan? If you felt love or something, you might make the wrong decision."

Raphael frowned.

"Even a lesser emotional tie-- say, the betrayal of a friend-- could cause people to stumble in their faith. People should never love anything so much as they love God, even in a completely conflict-free scenario. Elevating a fallible being up to a parallel status with God is, in itself, a sin. Worse, what if an angel grew to love their spouse more than they loved God? They'd Fall for their idolatry. I just-- I feel like it's a slippery slope. One day you're deciding that you like a particular angel more than the others, and the next you're in Hell, worshiping the Devil."

"Uh-huh," Raphael said slowly. "Yeah. Gotta say. Don't agree with you there."

Gabriel shrugged. "We'll table it as a debate for tomorrow's meeting."

"A debate over what?" he asked. "We can't possibly label love as a sin. We're creatures of love, Gabriel, or have you forgotten that?"

His gaze hardened. "There are different forms of love," he said, echoing his brother's words. "I think we need to sit down and delineate which manifestations of love are holy and which are a perversion. The sort of love that someone could Fall for-- that's dangerous. Marriage is a distraction at best and an outright sin at worst. I'm sorry, Raphael, but we might have to ban it."

"And what would happen to Netzach and Haniel?"

He shrugged. "Maybe we'd have it annulled? I don't know. Again, Raphael, we'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

He gave a weak smile, and disappeared off into the crowd.

Raphael remained rooted to the spot.

The angels were talking and laughing and smiling. Haniel and Netzach's halos were the brightest in the room, their eyes pure white and their whole beings emitting a bit of a glow. It happens, they had found. With particularly strong and holy emotions. Happiness and righteous anger and protectiveness and justice and zeal.

Love.

He felt a sickening dread sink into the bottom of his stomach.

----------------------------------------------------

He had volunteered to design the insects.

His siblings had been surprised. Then Michael had cooed about how virtuous and selfless that was of him, to be willing to design such lowly and disgusting creatures. A pitiful assignment. None of the others had wanted it.

They all split up as soon as they reached Earth.

Raphael thought of the demons.

They had all been transformed into a beast of the Earth as they fell. Usually something unclean. Something lowly and small that would crawl through mud and dirt for its whole existence. The animals hadn't been created yet, but they would be.

It took time and good deal of effort for the demons to regain humanoid shapes. Their wings had burned during the Fall, feathers turning to ash and flying away. Retransforming made them grow back, but without the holy light of their Grace, the feathers appeared black.

Black as sin, they were saying.

Their humanoid forms tended to keep their animalistic form as well. Raphael didn't know if that was a choice or something they couldn't help. Maybe it was a reminder, or a safeguard, or something symbolic about duality or the truth of their nature or some other garbage. It didn't matter.

Raphael thought of demons, and he created the insects.

Flies, able to cling to anything and impervious to gravity. Ants, impossibly strong for their size and functioning as an army. Bees, he liked bees, he thought he really outdid himself on bees. Locusts and emerald ash borers and maggots and spiders. Each would serve their purpose and fulfill a necessary role. They would maintain and complete the Earth.

Except mosquitoes. He was feeling a bit tetchy when he made mosquitoes.

He created water skimmers and cockroaches and dung beetles. He made butterflies and moths and parasites. There were fleas and ticks and lice. Ladybugs and gnats. Lightning bugs and horse flies. Wasps and hornets and all sorts of little pollinators to keep the plants alive.

He made disgusting, vile little creatures. The humans would hate and fear them. They would spend so much time and money trying to kill them and keep them away. They weren't exactly wrong to do so. A lot of them carried diseases and bit or destroyed crops.

But the Earth still needed them anyway.

So Raphael created them, and he thought that if no one else would love pests, then he would do it himself.

-----------------------------------------------------

"So is this how it's going to be?" Beelzebub asked. "In Heaven by day, in Hell by night? You're risking quite a scandal there, Archangel."

"I'm doing the bare minimum," he said. "The healer who has the power to ease someone's suffering and denies them for any reason deserves to be damned."

"And if they damn you anyway?"

"Well then, you'll have a lot of demons with untreated festering wounds then, won't you?" he snapped. "You have a lot more to lose than I do."

Ze folded zir arms. "Most consider their own life to be of the highest importance."

"Not very angelic of them. Probably why you're all demons," he said. "You seem very suspicious of someone who is only here to help out."

"How would you feel if I went up to Heaven and asked to touch all the angels?" ze asked. "I know what you archangels are really like, Raphael. I wasn't magically transported up to the execution level. Gabriel struck me across the face, clapped one hand over my mouth and the other around my wrists, and dragged me there."

"I am not my brother," he said firmly. "His views are not my own. I have told you before that I am against violence, and I mean it. You can trust me to heal."

They stood there for a while, saying nothing and glaring daggers at each other.

"You're a moron," Beelzebub said finally. "You shouldn't be down here; this'll be the death of you. But since you are, Murmur has a broken wing."

"Murmur?"

"Matthias."

"Ah."

------------------------------------------------------

Day 6

"Alright, we have a very full day today," Gabriel said. "Lots of work, and also lots of logistics to discuss. On the agenda, we have: creation of land animals, subcategories wild and domestic; cultivation of the Garden of Eden-- with very particular instructions, mind you; God is going to be creating Man and Woman; discussion on the sinfulness of marriage/love; and, last but not least, I think you guys should get assistants too. Very useful, makes you seem important, and they could double as bodyguards. Discuss?"

"Sounds cool," Uriel said. "I'm all for it. Like an artist's apprentice. If anything should happen to me, I want someone I trained and can trust to step up and fill my role."

Michael nodded. "I've been meaning to choose a second. I have an elite group of warriors, but there's been no particular standout among them."

"I could create one especially," Uriel suggested.

Gabriel snapped his fingers. "Yes! That! Love that. And Raphael could use a, uh..."

"Nurse," he supplied. "Doctors have nurses."

"Great." He smiled. "Well, now that that's settled. I think deep interpersonal connections are inherently sinful and we should ban marriage."

Uriel leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Explain."

"Godly love is meant to be equal, without favoritism. Allegiances to anything other than God will only serve to divide us. We should be friends and brothers to all of creation. This idea of picking and choosing one or a few people to love more than the rest, it's... It's not right. It leads down the path of sin. Angels are meant to love God and The Work. Take Netzach and Haniel, for example. What if Netzach Falls? Would Haniel follow her down? Their friends will talk about it. What if they look back and realize that they could have seen it coming? That they heard her spouting radical ideas wrapped up in a mask of theocracy? What if they sympathize with her, or doubt or decision to damn her? The whole Host could end up full of divisions and doubt, because a few people got married and had friends and oh, they weren't really that bad, were they?"

"Those who doubt our leadership are doubting the authority of God," Uriel said, frowning. "Anyone who does that deserves to Fall themselves. We've been very clear. The faithful and discreet slave is chosen and directed by God. Our leadership and decisions cannot be questioned by anyone of true faith and morality."

Michael nodded. "Of course. But I think Gabriel has a point too. It's not just about sympathy for demons. Obviously, Falling is a loving arrangement. It keeps the Host clean and morally pure, free from reproach. Anyone could look at us and see that we are truly God's people and holy. We protect the real angels by removing dangerous sinners from their midst. If the demons didn't Fall, they would tell lies and alternative views. They'd corrupt good people's minds and hearts, with blatant propaganda."

Uriel nodded.

"So it's not just about sympathy for demons," Michael continued. "Because making them Fall is sympathetic. It is an expression of kindness. Those who doubt that in any way clearly don't have the right heart condition and need to correct their thinking. But about marriage itself... Yeah, Gabriel's right. Outright ties and allegiances like that will only bring us trouble. It could easily lead to idol worship. People may give their spouse love equal or greater than what they hold for God."

"Still. Banning marriage altogether seems a bit harsh," Uriel said.

"Ye-Yes! Thank you!" Raphael said. "This is absurd! Just because it could cause some angels to sin doesn't mean we should get rid of it for everybody! If somebody falls into a trap of vice, then that's their own problem."

"If your right hand is making you stumble, cut it off and throw it away from you," Michael said. "For it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to land in Gehenna. Sacrifices must be made. If removing marriage is inconvenient, then so be it. If it lowers your enjoyment of life, if it impedes certain things, if it bars certain activities altogether, then oh well. It isn't necessary for life. It's a potential stumbling block, a large one, and we must do whatever we have to to remain free of sin."

Uriel nodded, and that was it, the matter decided.

Sandalphon made a note down in his scroll. Raphael's thoughts were swirling around in his head like a whirlpool. He felt... bad. Confused. This couldn't be right.

"Alright, now onto creative matters," Gabriel said. "Wild animals, domestic animals, and a Garden."

"I'll take the Garden," Raphael said quickly. "I did insects yesterday."

No one protested.

"I still have demons to damn," Uriel sighed. Michael patted her on the hand.

"How many have we lost?" Gabriel asked.

"About six million," Uriel said.

"What?!"

She nodded. "Six million. It's slowing down though. It'll stop soon."

"That's horrible," Raphael said. "So many of them?"

"It's good, actually," Michael said. "Not that they're sinning, obviously, but that they're being removed. We're separating the wheat from the weeds, the sheep from the goats."

"Yes," Gabriel said. "Yes, we'll definitely start telling the angels that Falling is loving. Merciful, even. Anyway. Michael, you take wild animals, I'll take domestic?"

She nodded.

"Great," Gabriel smiled. "Let's get to work."

--------------------------------------------

The Garden did have horribly specific instructions for its creation.

Eden was meant to be towards the east a bit, and to have a river flowing inside it to water the Garden. Then the river was supposed to split into four rivers: the Pishon (which encircles the land of Havilah), the Gihon (which encircles the land of Cush), the Tigris (to be east of Assyria), and the Euphrates.

So Raphael moved a bunch of dirt around and called forth rain from the sky and created some rivers. He traced them all back to their root source, and found a lovely spot of land in the east. He decided it would be Eden.

After seeing some of the larger predators that Michael was creating, he also decided the Garden would have a big ass wall. Just absolutely gigantic. With spikes. Tall enough to tower over fully grown specimens of the finest, most perfect trees in creation. Thick enough to withstand any attack, by any animal or any weapon humans could possibly think up in the next few millennia. It was unassailable, truly.

With a gate, of course, it wasn't a cage. And angels to guard the gate.

The garden was meant to exist outside the realm of botanical possibilities. All bets were off on it. It was to contain every seed-bearing plant, every tree with seed-bearing fruit, every tree that was pleasing to look at and good for food, plus two others in the very middle, but Raphael wasn't meant to create those ones.

He made the Garden lush and beautiful and full of good things. They would have fruit and vegetables and herbs and spices, and they could do whatever they wanted with them.

If the humans were to be created in God's image, then surely they would be highly creative and intelligent. Raphael gave them every resource they could ever need for that.

And then it was done.

They all Knew. It went beyond the way the archangels were aware of each other. This was for everybody, all creations in the universe. The trees stilled their branches, but their leaves shivered with anticipation. The grass stood upright, at attention. All the nearby animals wandered to the Garden's walls. They sat patiently outside, or prowled around, or pawed at the stonework. Every angel in Heaven flew down to Earth and stood above the garden, around its walls, forming a glowing, holy halo. All the demons in Hell stopped what they were doing and saw it from a distance.

The archangels dropped with whooshes of air. They stood in a circle in the center of the Garden, four points on a compass.

God was there. It was impossible to say how, or where specifically. It was just this sense of a Presence.

Two trees began growing.

They finished, towering, the largest in the Garden.

Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have in subjection the fish of the sea and the flying creatures of the heavens and the domestic animals and all the earth and every creeping animal that is moving on the Earth.

The archangels raised up their hands, as if on instinct. Dust began swirling up out of the ground. It moved in circles, tighter and tighter, condensing into a spinning tunnel between the trees. They moved the dust faster, and faster, and like a forming star, it settled into the shape of a man.

It was empty. They had created a body, but there was nothing inside it. Adam was not like them. He was made of dust, not light, and when he started out, he was empty on the inside, entirely lifeless.

A wind blew down from up above. Adam's skin grew brighter, more vibrant and reddish, and he sucked in a breath and opened his eyes.

He looked around, bewildered.

From every tree of the Garden you may eat to satisfaction. But as for the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Bad, you must not eat from it, for in the day you eat from it you will certainly die.

"Oh, well that's bullshit," Raphael said.

There was a moment of stark, crisp silence, in which every sentient being in the universe turned their attention towards him.

He felt his face flame.

There was really only one option. He kept talking.

"That's bullshit," he repeated, tilting his chin up. "Why can't they have that knowledge? Why is that barred from humans? Without knowing good and bad, without their own sense of morality, all you have is blind faith and obedience. Forbidding access to information is-- is-- mind control! You can't do that!"

He stood his ground. He glared up at the sky. He raised his staff to gesture with."Why can't they know?" he asked. "Why do you fear the spread of information? Do you think if they had all the facts, they wouldn't worship you? Do you think, if you didn't rig the game and you went about things honestly, anyone would?"

He leaned forward, wings arched upward for a fight. "Do you deserve it?"

He was standing in the top floor of Heaven, wings bound behind him in chains glowing blue. Matching fetters bound his feet and cuffed his wrists behind him.

His siblings stood before him, faces grave. The room was empty, otherwise.

"What happened to the line?" he asked. "The audience, the spectacle? Thought you were rather keen on that."

"Apostasy," Uriel said. "Is what Azazel and Lucifer went down for. Some others, too. It's one of the worst sins. An unforgivable one."

"And?"

"And we won't give you a platform to continue to spread your lies from."

"Where did I lie?" he asked. "Not one of those statements was a lie."

"You accused God of mind-control," Gabriel said incredulously. "You challenged Her inherent right to rule. Her justice and wisdom."

"And I didn't lie," he said. "All I did was ask questions."

"We aren't here to discuss semantics," Uriel said. "We aren't here to discuss anything, really. You're an apostate. You speak poison into the minds of others. You spread mistrust and propaganda and lies. You twist words to sound reasonable and logical, when really they're anything but. You're a silver-tongued snake. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Listening to you at all is so dangerous it could be considered a sin in itself."

"Shame, then, that the whole universe just heard. Few million more demons for you, yeah?"

"A few hours ago you called that horrible," Michael said.

"Heaven needs to be rebelled against," he said. "And I'd have done it earlier, but I had to be sure."

He hadn't intended to rebel even as he started speaking out there. But he had thought about it. He had questioned, he had doubted, he had wondered and imagined what would happen.

It had felt just a little bit inevitable, but no, he hadn't intended to rebel, not in a million years.

"He has a point, though," Gabriel said, speaking to his sisters. "Everyone heard him. Everyone. We-- He was an archangel. It was public. People will talk. It doesn't look good."

"That's true," Uriel said. "I can feel it. There's 902,784 souls awaiting judgment, and rising. It was half that before."

"Sympathy for the devil," Michael said. "Like I was saying earlier, when we were talking about marriage. Just the idea of people knowing a sinner is one of the biggest stumbling blocks we will ever encounter. If we want to keep the Host clean, we need to wipe them out entirely."

"Agreed," Uriel said.

"We're already doing that. That's what damning is, and it isn't enough," Gabriel said. "If only there were a way we could make it so they had never met any demons in the first place. Like if we could've seen their future sins and sorted them preemptively."

"We couldn't do that though, and the time has passed," Michael said. "We can't rewrite history."

"No," Uriel said. "But we can rewrite memories."

"What?" Gabriel asked.

"No," Raphael said. "No, don't do this."

"We can weave thoughts like threads in fabric," Uriel said, ignoring him completely. "Divine inspiration. To give humans ideas and encourage them in the right direction. The demons do it too, with their temptations."

"What you're talking about is a lot more than a little nudge," Gabriel said. "A single implanted thought in an unguarded mind is-- well, it's easy. But a memory is a whole nest of thoughts. And emotions. It's like a great big ball of string all tied together."

"We're archangels. We can handle it," Uriel said. "And we're not erasing the demons' existence entirely. Just any personal memories of them."

Michael smirked. "Guess your little stunt doesn't mean much now, Raphael. You were willing to Fall for it, and no one will even remember," she said. "But you'll still Fall."

"Right," Uriel said. "Down to business then. Archangel Raphael, you have committed the sins of blasphemy, heresy, and-- most damning of all-- apostasy. Do you have anything you would like to say for yourself?"

"Yes." He straightened. "I stand by my words. This is wrong, you have created a corrupt system, and I'm ashamed to have been a part of it. This isn't right, and I will not bow before an unjust god. You have created a system without choice or free will at all. Your options are to serve God or to be--"

"That's more than enough," Uriel said. "Your confession has been noted."

She snapped her fingers, and the floor dropped out beneath him.

---------------------------------------------------

Falling was hell.

Falling was worse than Hell.

Surely Hell couldn't possibly be worse than this, could it?

-------------------------------------------------

It felt like eternity.

Raphael had no clue how long he was there. He remembered the demons, the other demons, telling him that Falling took years, decades, centuries, millennia, eons.

He had thought, surely, they were exaggerating.

They hadn't been, though. They hadn't been, and now he was feeling it. He felt every excruciating hour tick by one by one in a slow drop of years, and for the first time ever, Raphael felt old.

Surely too much time had passed. By the time he hit the ground, the world will have ended. He'll have to make a new one. He's an archangel-- or was, at least-- he's one of very few beings in existence capable of doing that. He would if he had to.

But oh, he had just made the Earth, and it had been so perfect.

Not 'just.' Years ago. Thousands, millions of years ago. Had to be.

Had to be.

-----------------------------------------------------

He had plenty of time to think, as he was Falling.

He supposed that was rather the point. Like a human time-out for unruly children. Sit quietly, alone, and think about what you did wrong.

Raphael didn't think about that, though, he was thinking about the future.

Would the demons remember him? Would the archangels include them in their memory wipe? They had no reason to, really, who cares what demons think of one of their own? It's not like any angels would be listening to what any of them had to say. That would be a slippery slope, as Gabriel would say. Or an outright sin, maybe.

Turn away from temptation. Keep your eye on those who cause divisions and occasions for stumbling contrary to the teaching that you have learned, and avoid them. Look out: perhaps there may be someone who will carry you off as his prey through the philosophy and empty deception according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary things of the world and not according to Christ. If anyone comes to you and does not bring this teaching, never receive him into your home or say a greeting to him; for he that says a greeting to him is a sharer in his wicked works.

If any man teaches other doctrine and does not assent to healthful words, those of our Lord Jesus Christ, nor to the teaching that accords with godly devotion, he is puffed up with pride, not understanding anything, but being mentally diseased over questionings and debates about words. From these things spring envy, strife, abusive speeches, wicked suspicions.

Ideas can be very dangerous things. Ideas not of or for God are too sinful for a faithful person to permit themselves to listen to. It's why silencing him was necessary, why the archangels came up with the memory wipe, why so many demons are to be dedicated teachers and inventors.

Murmur will teach humanity philosophy. Aamon will reconcile enemies, and know of the past and the future, and procure love for those seeking it. Orobas is unfailingly honest, will uphold deals with humans in good faith and tell them the truth of any matter they could ask about. Penemue would teach the humans to write, teach them of bitterness and sweetness, and be credited with spreading sin across the world because of it. Azazel would teach humans to make weapons and armor, he would invent cosmetics, he would reveal the secrets of witchcraft to them so they may use it themselves. Amy would teach astronomy and liberal arts, he would give familiars, reveal treasures, and incite positive reactions from human rulers. Barbas would reveal secrets, teach medicine, cause and cure diseases. Belphegor would inspire humans to ingenious inventions that would make them massively wealthy. Naberius would make humans cunning in all arts and sciences-- rhetoric especially-- and restore them their lost honors and dignities.

And so many, so many others.

Just about every demon Raphael had met so far was a teacher at heart. Just about every single one of them would inspire humanity to create. Oh, there were exceptions, of course. Some of them have embraced bitterness fully, have decided to scorn the humans and cause them only trouble. The Evil Trinity-- Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Astaroth-- are resoundingly evil, and the other four princes aren't far behind.

It is easy to say the demons are all evil liars committed only to spreading destruction if you've never gone down to Hell and talked with a fair share of demons.

There is no such thing as neutral information. It is either helpful or it is harmful, in Heaven's eyes. And demons are willing to spread it indiscriminately-- hurtful things, dangerous things, deceitful things, truths that can be turned into weapons and used to fight back, little white lies when there is no such thing.

Demons will talk, will say anything and everything, will talk for the sake of speaking, and angels will stand silent, carrying out untold orders from Up High, parroting back only what is sanctioned, and in the prescribed way.

Raphael had a lot of time to think.

For one, he realized his name didn't fit. God Heals, what bullshit. God has not healed a single thing. She may have put life in Adam and spun the Earth on its axis, but the bulk of creation was delegated to others. And Raphael could see it, has always been able to see it, but never thought about it. God doesn't heal. God will never heal. She will give angels and saints the ability to do it for her, but never once in all of history will there be an instance of God personally healing someone.

God does not heal, and he is not Raphael.

He gets it now, why some of the demons have been changing their holy names once they get down there. It feels like a lie branded onto him. And even with the meaning aside, he is not that person. God doesn't get to decide that. She doesn't get to stick holiness on him, have him be labeled entirely by it, and decide that's his identity. No. No, he will choose his own identity, and he will be his own person, not just one of God's.

And for the first time in his life, he was alone in his own head. He could not sense his siblings. Even when he focused, he had no sense of their general mood or occupation or where they were in relation to him. His familial bonds had been completely cut off, severed with a decisive blade.

It was a clear message. He hadn't been betrayed by his brother and sisters. He had been the betrayer, he had been the one to turn his back on them and what they stood for, and as of this moment, he no longer had a brother and sisters.

Sacrifices must be made. Have no dealings with apostates.

The words of a snake are poison.

-------------------------------------------------------

He hadn't been so clear-headed at first.

He had thrashed and twisted around. His wings were bound in chain. Heavy steel, forged in the heart of stars, glowing blue with holiness. He had nearly pulled every muscle in his wings and back straining against them.

It was a panic response, obviously. His wings were not strong enough to snap heavenly steel. Pushing against it wasn't going to do anything. But he was falling, falling, falling, and the instinct to unfurl his wings and stop it, soar to safety instead-- it was near insurmountable. He itched to fly. Winged creatures were never meant to fall with so little control over it.

They had started to burn. The chains, that is.

It was a slow, creeping heat, the kind you didn't notice at first. It was sensation, awareness of an object that contained the heat of your body. It was a bit warm. A tingling itch. It was clearly heated, nearly hot, but only uncomfortable for being in prolonged contact.

Then it wasn't.

The flesh of his wings reddened and burned and blistered first, and it smelled like cooked meat. His struggling began anew, and kicked up a notch.

Feathers touching the chains smoldered. They gave off streams of smoke, turning black and curling in on themselves, then turning to white ash and flying away as dust, gone.

And the heat spread, and his whole wings were on fire.

Raphael struggled and twisted and tried to pull away from his own body. The fire burned the length of his wings and kept eating. It caught his hair, his robe. He was covered in it, his skin wasn't holding up. He was going to melt.

He closed his eyes against the heat. They were watering uncontrollably, nature's last-ditch effort to preserve them, but the tears were evaporating on his cheeks.

He imagined something without wings or hair or robes to burn. Something with no soft flesh to exploit. Something that could not be bound by chains at all, something that could slip right out of them with ease.

He fell away from the fire, and left it behind up above him.

His eyes were open now. There was nothing to see, of course. Only infinite blackness flying by too fast to process. But he imagined that at least he would get a bit of warning, some time to brace himself, before he fell into the next fire.

----------------------------------------------------

It didn't work out like that.

He never saw it coming. No light, no flames, no plummeting through the great big hole in Hell's ceiling into the main cavern of the bottom level. There was just an increasing sense of red, getting redder and brighter as he Fell, and then suddenly he was in hellfire.

He slammed down into the bottom of the Pit, pain reverberating through him.

It was a shallow pool. Less than one foot of boiling sulfur. The flames resulting from it towered about thirty feet high.

He couldn't see anything but the bright scarlet red, and that fit, he supposed. Not much worth seeing in a pit of boiling sulfur. It was a shame this form wasn't capable of closing its eyes, though.

Flames crackled and snapped loudly. Bubbles popped and roiled on the surface, muted above him. He stretched upward, clearing his head of the fluid, and the landscape of sounds changed.

Something was sloshing. Towards him.

Beelzebub, he thought, grateful he still had the ability to recognize a soul even before he could see the redder-on-red form of the prince through the flames. And that was the last thought he had before he was yanked up by the throat and marched back through the Pit.

They came to the embankment and cleared the hellfire. Raphael still couldn't see anything, no doubt his eyes having trouble adjusting from being in literal flame to darkness. Everything was black, with a faint hue of red, and the demons themselves were ghostly, hazy figures of pure.

A neutral red. The standard version of red. Dimmer than the hellfire for sure, but by no means dark in itself, unlike the room. Some of them were brighter or darker than others, curiously, and some were veering a bit towards purple.

Beelzebub lifted his snake form up high, and he wriggled instinctively. "And here we have a former Archangel," ze said. "You all saw that display in the Garden. One of you dukes will be getting this thing added to your legion. Who wants him?"

Red shapes crept closer, and it was suddenly very very bad that Raphael could not see their faces.

--------------------------------------------------

Four hours later, it was finally over. Beelzebub tossed him to Duke Hastur, who did not precisely catch him. They both ended up flailing rather ungracefully for an embarrassing amount of time before sorting themselves out.

"Crawly little thing, aren't you?" Hastur said. "Listen, fuckface, I know you're new here, so let me just tell you something. You may have been a big man up top, but that means nothing down here. If it weren't for your big speech and the healing you did, we probably would have hunted you for sport. Like a cop in prison. The only reason I wanted you for my legion is 'cause I figure you still have all your archangel powers, and it's a feather in my wing to have a former top gun under my name. But it's my name. Got it? You work for me. You were a big man up there, not down here. If I even think you're getting any funny ideas, I will put you down and feed you to the hellhounds. Understand?"

"Perfectly," he hissed.

"Good," he said. "It's the dawn of a new day, crawly. Why don't you get up there and make some trouble?"

--------------------------------------------------

Day 7

Not-Raphael (no new name yet) manifested physically within the depths of the Earth and then burst forth out of them, inside the walls of the Garden, in the form of the largest snake the world would ever see.

Was it over the top? Yes. Was it highly noticeable? Also yes. Was it a poorly concealed defense mechanism after being made to feel small and helpless?

He slithered through the Garden.

It was empty, now. Only a single human, some plants, and decidedly friendly and safe animals. The demons had turned their attention away. The angels had gone back to Heaven and work. God's presence was gone.

Not-Raphael saw only black, with faint, barely-there blue forming vague shapes that must be the plants. The whole garden smelled holy, and the air was filled with a soft thrum of energy because of it. Evil manifests as energy-in-the-air too, but a decidedly different feeling energy, if that made sense.

The holiness prickled on his scales uncomfortably, made him feel tense and on edge. Jittery.

He wandered around aimlessly until he found a soul.

The soul was a yellow, wobbly-ish figure, indistinct and made of light, as everything he could see now was. The only reason he knew it was a human and not a small, odd plant was its color and movement.

This soul was different than the soul of Adam. It was she who was called Woman, but someday she would be called Eve, the Living One, as mother of all life.

(Adam would never truly receive a name. Everyone had been calling him Man, and eventually the word that meant 'man' would be considered a good enough name in itself, and many humans would be named Adam after him. They were, respectively, Man and Woman, and being the first of their kinds, that was generally good enough. Adam had then gotten sappy and sentimental later in the day, and invented a name for his wife. But that hadn't happened yet.)

He made himself a fair bit smaller before approaching, and twirled up a tree and into its branches, dropping his neck down.

Eve glanced up, startled, and smiled. "Hello," she said.

"Hello," the snake replied.

Eve had never been so close to another animal before. She had been born yesterday. She didn't know they couldn't talk.

"Did God really say you must not eat from every tree of the Garden?" he asked.

She nodded, innocent and sincere. "We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the Garden. But God has said about the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the Garden: 'You must not eat from it, no, you must not touch it; otherwise you will die."

"Ohhhh," he scoffed. "The tree isn't going to kill you, you know. The fruit isn't poison. Perfectly harmless, in itself. God just told you that 'cuz She knows that in the very day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good from bad."

----------------------------------------------------

They had never seen God curse anyone before. No one had. Presumably, it had never been done.

But now, God let loose curses.

To the snake:

Because you have done this, you are the cursed one out of all the domestic animals and out of all the wild animals of the field. On your belly you will go, and you will eat dust all the days of your life. 

To the demons:

And I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and her offspring. He will crush your head, and will strike him in the heel.

To women:

I will greatly increase the pain of your pregnancy; in pain you will give birth to children, and your longing will be for your husband, and he will dominate you.

To men:

Because you listened to your wife's voice and ate from the tree concerning which I gave you this command, 'You must not eat from it,' cursed is the ground on your account. In pain you will eat its produce all the days of your life. It will grow thorns and thistles for you, and you must eat the vegetation of the field. In the sweat of your face you will eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken. For dust you are and to dust you will return.

And then Eve was given her name, and God gave the first humans some better clothes, long garments made from animal skins, thick and warm. And She said, to the angels:

Here the man has become like one of us in knowing good and bad. Now in order that he may not put his hand out and take fruit also from the Tree of Life and eat and live forever--

And suddenly the humans weren't in the Garden anymore.

------------------------------------------------------

If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have built the wall.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. They deserved a sporting chance, at least, to get at the fruit. And what were they supposed to eat out here? Where were they supposed to take shelter? Humans will die within days-- not weeks, days-- without water, thanks to Adam's curse, and they're in the middle of a desert. Plus, they don't know anything about survival. Or anything at all, really, except for right from wrong.

Immortality lay at the center of the Garden. It hung from a tree. It would rot off the branches, or be eaten up by birds or bugs before it went back into the earth, and eventually, God would let the tree itself die. Life. Health. Freedom from death.

He thought about the angels guarding it. Two cherubim at the tree itself, two more at the gate, which is in the east, every last one of them armed with a flaming sword and experts in how to use it.

He wondered how they were able to live with themselves.

He wondered if he was going to be able to live with himself.

-----------------------------------------------------

There was an angel on the wall.

Mind, he couldn't see the wall. Still blind as a bat, apparently, except for whatever weird shit was going on with the red and the blue and the strangely yellow humans. He had accepted it as further divine punishment at this point. Little bit of extra, for the ex-archangel who fell so far.

It was ironic, actually, and he was going to try to think of it as funny. Raphael, patron angel of the blind, who was blind before and gained true perspective at the cost of his eyesight.

See? It was funny. Definitely funny, and the poor attempt at irony was horribly tacky on God's part, and Not-Raphael was going to laugh about it any day now. In a few short years, at a maximum.

He was sure God was laughing, at least.

The hazy steaks of red and blue light did not appear to exist outside of the Garden or Hell (he half-heartedly wondered how he would perceive Heaven). It was just black. Plain black. He could tell where the Garden was from the outside only because he could "see" beams of blue light shooting up from about midway in the sky out of nowhere.

But that didn't matter now, because he was on the inside, slithering up the wall towards a shining blue figure with big, obvious wing shapes. Must be an angel. Had to be. All the demons had been red, and Eden was blue, so surely angels were blue too?

He turned back into a humanoid form once safely on top of the wall. "Well that went down like a lead balloon."

"Sorry, what was that?"

He turned to face the angel. Better for hearing. More polite. "I said, 'Well that went down like a lead balloon.'"

And shit, shit, he saw the angel's soul, just like always.

Aziraphale. Aziraphale, really? Bit on-the-nose there with the name there, Uriel.

He had been made the morning of the sixth day as a helpmeet to an archangel who turned traitor that afternoon. Now an unsorted cherub with no specific projects to be doing, he had been put on guard duty when Heaven needed spare angels. No one knew quite what to do with him.

So much for taking over Raphael's job. Looks like that had been nixed almost immediately.

But then, he had no training, and that wasn't even his patronage, his patronage was--

He needed to stop soul-staring.

"Yes, yes, it did, rather," Aziraphale said.

"Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offence and everything," he said. "I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway."

"Well, it must be bad--" The angel paused, clearly expectant.

Oh shit.

He thought fast. "Crawly."

"--Crawly. Otherwise, you wouldn't have tempted them into it."

Speaking of tempting.

He started talking, asking his questions, but the angel didn't take the bait. Best not to speculate, copping out by refusing to even think about it, smart. Still, though, even just listening was on the wrong side of borderline. A proper angel would have smote him on the spot.

He had not crawled up the wall right next to a trained, armed cherub with a God-given weapon with the intention of finding an improper angel.

Still, though. This was interesting, at least.

Hey, speaking of which: the blurry, indistinct outline of the angel seemed to be just that-- only the angel.

"Didn't you have a flaming sword?" he asked.

"Uh--"

"You did. It was flaming like anything. What happened to it?"

"Uhhh..."

"Lost it already, have you?" Was that it? Was that how angels stayed loyal? Pointedly not thinking, general incompetence, and not considering the consequences of their own actions?

Was Sandalphon a role model?

"...Gave it away."

"You what?!"

"I gave it away!" Aziraphale said, loudly, with no fear of God hearing. "There are vicious animals! It's going to be cold out there. And she's expecting already. And I said, 'Here you go. Flaming sword. Don't thank me. And don't let the sun go down on you here.' I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing."

Crawly's chest and his heart in particular felt very, extremely strange.

This was selflessness. This was fearless kindness. Doing the right thing even when it goes against the theocratic law. Even when there could be dire personal consequences for doing so. Aziraphale had the ability to ease people's suffering and give aid to the vulnerable, and so he did, without a second thought, without hesitation.

This was what angels were supposed to be like. In that moment, Crawly was convinced that Aziraphale was the truest, best angel there ever was. The only good one in Heaven.

"Oh, you're an angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing."

They kept talking, and Crawly had a niggling desire to know what Aziraphale's form looked like, what his face was doing, but he repressed. Best start getting over his issues about that as soon as possible. He was going to have an eternity to live with that, he would rather not be miserable for all of it.

He was going to miss his eyesight every now and then, for sure. It would take some time and a good bit of effort. But this was his life, this was who he was, this was how things were going to be. And he was going to be content if he had to fight for millennia to get there.

For the first time in his life, he felt true hope.

Rain started sprinkling down. Without even deciding to do so, he shuffled closer to his angel. Aziraphale extended a wing up above his head, protecting him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Maybe kindness could become the default. Maybe humanity could become something beautiful out of this, knowing what was right and working to do it. If people like Aziraphale could make kindness so simple, so effortless, then the rest of the universe could-- should-- follow their example.

It would take some time. Some effort.

But Crawly thought they really could.

#just reposting an old fic from ao3 for today's prompt cuz im lazy #good omens celebration #goc #fic #good omens

[robertkstone]

2020 BMW Z4 M40i Review: Against All Odds

The day before BMW turned a troupe of auto journo types loose around the Lisboa region of Portugal in the all-new Z4, the Bavarian carmaker allowed us to sample roadsters from glory days past. Sadly there was no touching the gorgeous 1939 BMW 328 parked in front of the sprawling Penha Longa Resort adjacent to the former Estoril F1 circuit. We were, however, allowed to sample the Z1, Z3, and Z8. The Wacky-doored Z1 drove just like an E30 325i if you removed all damping and structural rigidity. Fun, but perhaps not for reasons the factory intended. The supermodel-gorgeous Z8 featured slow, recirculating ball steering, dumpy suspension, and a muted soundtrack. Still, the near-magic hustle of the 394-hp naturally aspirated V-8 is a reminder that things used to be better. Especially when you slam the 3-4 shift at wide-open throttle. Oh, baby! The best-driving roadster of the bunch, it turned out, was a seafoam-green, neoclassical-looking Z3. What a thing of (handling) beauty. The last BMW ever to feature the brand’s old trailing arm rear suspension setup, only 10 open-air miles were enough to remind us why the Ultimate Driving Machine used to be such a spot-on mission statement. We spent the rest of the day looking up used Z3 prices. Not kidding.

The new BMW Z4 only exists because Toyota wanted a new Supra. And just like what ToMoCo did with Subaru for the BRZ/86, Toyota put up the cash and BMW engineered all the hardware. Call it what you will—joint venture, badge engineering, brand dilution, or a savvy way to build sports cars in the age of the SUV—the more go-fast toys in the world, the better. I harbor no ill will or animosity toward either carmaker. Car geeks now have two more sports cars than we did before: gear heads rejoice! Getting more granular, how good could a BMW be that’s cost-engineered to also work as a Toyota? Also curious is the fact that—because the hardware between the two cars is identical—software and suspension tuning are all that will separate them dynamically. Who at BMW is capable of taking a parts-bin special and making it, well, special?

Meet Jos van As, the man responsible for the Z4’s kinematics. I had the pleasure of chasing Herr van As around Estoril for multiple laps, and let me tell you, homeboy can drive. It’s hard to stress exactly how crucial it is to have hot shoe development engineers when you want to build sports cars. Front-engine and rear-drive might seem like a simple, time-tested sports car formula, but I’m continually amazed at how many carmakers struggle. I’m certainly happy to report that the Z4 is a solid entry into the segment.

Let’s talk a little hardware. I only drove the new Z4 M40i, but there will also be a Z4 sDrive30i with a four-cylinder engine. Under the M40i’s polarizing skin sits the latest version of BMW’s ubiquitous 3.0-liter inline-six. Featuring a single twin-scroll turbo, this engine is good for 382 hp and 369 lb-ft of torque. Want to hear the crazy part? In Europe, the M40i makes less power! In your face, you socialized medicine peoples! I’m giddy about this because BMW has a long tradition of shipping weaker, wimpy Bimmers over to the States while spreading the good stuff around the Continent. Not this time! Reasons why? A particulate feature on the gas engine and a softer exhaust system help the M40i comply with EU regulations. I think most red-blooded Americans would happily accept a little lung cancer and tinnitus in exchange for 45 extra ponies. The I-6 mates up to the familiar ZF eight-speed automatic; only the rear wheels are driven. BMW claims a 0–60 time of 4.4 seconds.

I asked the Z4 project manager Oliver Jung which cars BMW benchmarked while developing the new Z4. He told me the two competitors they initially looked at were the Audi TT roadster and the Mercedes-Benz SLC. Internally, Jung’s team looked at the M240i convertible. Quite quickly, he told me, the team surpassed all three of those targets, so they next looked at a new bogey, the Porsche 718 Boxster S. A harder target for sure, as the Boxster is one of the best-handling convertibles on earth. How close did Jung’s team get? From my perspective, the mid-engine Porsche is still the handling king. However, in every other category the BMW is the better roadster. Ride comfort and quality, luggage capacity, interior quality, and of course sound—something essential to the roadster experience. And keep in mind that the Z4 M40i I drove has the muted European soundtrack.

With the top dropped, the new Z4 is a comfortable place. Wind noise is surprisingly low, and even at extralegal freeway speeds, you can carry on an inside-voices conversation with your cabin mate. The ride in Comfort mode is quite good, and even in Sport or Sport Plus, it remains refined and composed. Actually, refined and composed isn’t a bad way to describe the new Z4 as a whole. Push it hard on the street and no bad habits emerge. The steering is good: direct, solid, and with enough feel to pacify even the most ardent EPAS haters. The handling is neutral: I never felt a drop of understeer, and even with the traction control set in Sport, there wasn’t any oversteer, either. Blame the abundance of mechanical grip. If I have any complaints about the Z4’s street driving, it’s that you can feel the weight. BMW isn’t saying, but I’d guess right around 3,600 pounds. We weighed a PDK-equipped 718 Boxster that came in at 3,160 pounds, and a six-speed manual version that was 3,079 pounds. As competent and confidence-inspiring as the Z4 M40i is on the road, the car would be more exciting if it were lighter.  More dynamically satisfying, too.

On the track you really feel how hefty the Z4 is. The rear end stepped out when I pushed the car hard (in fairness to BMW, Estoril was repaved a couple of months ago and the surface is still slick—though not as slick as when I drove the Lamborghini Aventador SVJ). Understeer never reared its head, but I never thought I was driving the (not announced but inevitable) Z4 M. There’s a sweetness missing from the mix, a sweetness I experienced behind the wheel of the old Z3. Although remember, I wasn’t in the Z4’s more powerful American version. In my experience, more power is often the answer. Are people going to track the Z4 M40i? Most likely not, but if an owner did, they wouldn’t be mad. Especially here in the States.

As simply a sports car/luxury convertible, the new Z4 almost stands alone. Sure, the muscular Americans—Mustang, Camaro, and even Corvette—make more power and go a little quicker, but they have nowhere near the refinement of this German. Like Jung told me, the Z4 bests the SLC, the TT, and BMW’s own 2 Series convertible. All that’s left really is that Porsche 718 Boxster. Taking racetracks out of the equation for a second, I’d rather go for a long drive in the Z4. Convertibles make up less than 1 percent of the cars sold in America. The new BMW Z4 may not improve that statistic, but it sure won’t hurt.

IFTTT

#IFTTT #PerformanceJunk WP Feed 3

[gesteckt1]

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Similarly, in the trailer for the upcoming sci-fi film Kin, the neon lights and colorful explosions burst with rich, saturated blues and oranges. Matte displays don't typically have the same wow factor as their glossy counterparts, but I was in awe every time I visited my favorite websites on the Precision. My main complaint with the display is that skin tones look oversaturated, but you can adjust the color temperature using Dell's included display-calibration software.The display's outstanding qualities were quantified in our testing. The panel reproduced a staggering 211 percent of the sRGB color gamut, achieving among the highest ratings we've seen. While the Lenovo ThinkPad P71 (183 percent) and HP ZBook 17 G4 (173 percent) also impressed, their panels were nowhere near as colorful as the Precision's. The workstation average is much lower, at 149 percent.

With this machine's matte display and impressive peak brightness, you should have no issue using the Precision 7730 in bright environments. The display reached a maximum brightness of 330 nits, which is higher than scores from the ThinkPad P71 (283 nits) and HP ZBook 17 G4 (256 nits). The workstation average is also dimmer, at 325 nits. With an actuation force of 69 grams and a key travel of 1.6 millimeters (1.5mm to 2mm is recommended), the chiclet-style keyboard with numpad is comfortable to use, even during long typing sessions. Weighty and tactile, the backlit keys offer a rewarding amount of feedback and are well-spaced.In the 10fastfingers.com typing test, I reached 114 words per minute, with an error rate of 5 percent. That matches my 95 percent accuracy rate but is slightly slower than my 119 word-per-minute average, likely because of the key's above-average actuation force.

For a device this large, the Precision 7730's 3.9 x 2.1-inch touchpad is inexplicably small. Fortunately, it made up for its size by responding quickly to my gestures, including pinch-to-zoom, four-finger tapping to open settings and three-finger swiping to change apps.MORE: Our Favorite Gaming KeyboardsIf touchpads aren't your thing, you can use the little rubber nub in the center of the Precision 7730's keyboard. That is, if you can find it. The black pointing stick doesn't have a colorful ring around it, so it blends in with the dark deck. Still, I had no problems using the pointing stick and secondary set of left-, right- and middle-click buttons to navigate the web. The Precision 7730 is a performance powerhouse. Equipped with an Intel Core i9-8950HK CPU and 32GB of RAM, the Precision 7730 quickly loaded 30 Microsoft Edge tabs, four of which played YouTube videos while two others streamed Fornite on Twitch.

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You've long been able to buy portable batteries that'll keep your phone running even through a heavy day of thumb-typing. Soon you should be able to get one of those even for your beefy 15-inch MacBook Pro, too.Hyper, a Sanho product line specializing in accessories that fill gaps in an Apple-centric digital life, on Monday announced the new HyperJuice portable USB-C battery that packs a whopping 100 watt-hour capacity. For comparison, the current 15-inch MacBook Pro has a 83.6-watt-hour battery.The 7-inch-long HyperJuice has three ports -- one 100-watt USB-C port for the 15-inch MacBook Pro, one 60-watt USB-C port for smaller laptops that don't draw as much power, and one quick-charge 18-watt old-style USB-A for phones and tablets. You can charge devices with all three of its ports at the same time.

The device shows the versatility of the USB-C standard, years old but still a relative novelty for much of the computing world. The same port can be used for many types of devices, and now it can handle charging PCs as well as power-sipping phones. If you don't have USB-C today, you might well have it on your next laptop or phone, though Apple still hasn't embraced it for mobile devices.The HyperJuice battery pack will cost $300, although an early KickStarter price is half that. It's scheduled to start shipping in October.It'll charge a 15-inch MacBook MacBook Pro as fast as its power cable, Chief Executive Daniel Chin said, since it can pump out more power than that laptop's 87-watt charger. And it holds its charge well while you're on the road, losing only about 20 percent of its power per year, he added.

Because of the cleverness of modern USB charging, you can plug the HyperJuice into the wall to charge it at the same time it's charging a laptop. It takes 60 to 90 minutes to fully charge the 1.2-pound, aluminum-case HyperJuice.Its battery capacity is right up against the current Federal Aviation Administration limit for battery packs.PC gaming is the hardest gaming ecosystem to join since a decent gaming PC, be it a desktop or laptop, can easily run for $2,000 or more. But the Acer Predator Helios 300 laptop disrupts that trend: this $1,199 laptop is fully capable of high-end gaming and VR. If you’re in the market for a gaming laptop but you have a limited budget, you should be excited because, until now, your options have been far more limited.The Helios 300 is a true-to-form gaming laptop with a 15.6-inch 144Hz screen, GTX 1060 graphics, and an Intel Core i7 chip. Specs like these are usually reserved for laptops in the $2,000 range, yet the Helios 300 offers all of them for a fraction of the usual cost.

While it seems like the Helios 300 is a too-good-to-be-true laptop, it does come with some caveats, namely in design and keyboard quality. But even with those compromises, the Helios 300 is a precursor of a trend in cheaper but still-capable gaming laptops.At the very least, I can say Acer designed a gaming laptop that looks the part: bright red accents, chunky corners, and thick bezels with plastic and metal that equal six pounds in weight. The Helios 300’s 1.05-inch chassis isn’t the thinnest, and it doesn’t have the highest quality build I’ve seen in a laptop for this price, but it does well to mask most of my fingerprints, despite its dark metal palm rest. The Helios 300 reminds me of gaming laptops from two years ago when tasteful styling was unheard of and a gaming laptop that could double as a productivity machine was equally unheard of. I cannot say this design language has aged well — it hasn’t — but the real worth of the Helios 300 is in how well it can play games.A “gaming” laptop, no matter its price, should be able to deliver high-end performance through a decent GPU and CPU and have the bare essentials to take advantage of that performance, such as a high refresh rate screen and reliable cooling. To this point, the Acer Helios 300 delivers a little bit of everything and then some.

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The first spec an affordable gaming laptop should focus on is a good screen. Acer used a 144Hz IPS screen on the Helios 300. High refresh rate screens are important in PC gaming because the higher the rate, the smoother your gameplay experience will be. 144Hz is the current standard for high-end desktops and laptops, and it’s a welcome addition to a $1,200 laptop, which are usually equipped with slower, 60Hz screens.There’s a lot I can say about the Helios 300’s gaming and productivity performance. Prior to the Helios 300, I haven’t tested a sub-$2,000 laptop that can play Rainbow Six: Siege and League of Legends, at a consistent 144 frames per second. Overwatch also runs at ultra settings, but it dips to the 80 fps mark in intense firefights. Destiny 2 also runs comfortably at around 100 fps with settings on ultra.The gist of it is that you’ll be able to play most current-generation PC games on high (or the highest) settings, well past the 60 fps mark needed for smooth gameplay, and sometimes you’ll even reach the native 144 fps target.