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executethyself35 · 2 months

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10, 13, 26 of the oc asks for as many of them as you can find an answer for maybe perhaps?

LWNWNFLWKFNKA,M THANK YOU SO MONTY (yes ik i'm supposed to be on hiatus, but i can come out and go back in, i need to feed the people who want to be fed)

10. What lie do they most frequently remembering telling? Does it haunt them?

B: She lies about how much she misses Cuba, she says she barely misses it, but in reality some nights that's all she dreams about. Her childhood there, what her life would've been if her mother didn't move them when she was little. Let's just say, she misses it alot.

Zippo: That she didn't remember anything about the reason her family left Russia, she was two why would she remember? But she has one of those memories that have been formed over the years of being told the event that truly caused them to leave. The lie doesn't haunt her as much as the memory does.

Ollie: That she was happy in her relationship with Roland, even though anybody with a pair of eyes could see that was a lie. And the only reason it haunts her is because she had to see Eugene's face fall into a frown upon hearing that (he knew she was lying but didn't want to press any further into it)

Torrie: That she sometimes resents her mother for baring her. She always thinks about what her mother could've done with her life if she didn't decide to runaway and get married with a baby.

Marselle: That her ex didn't screw her up as badly as she did. Baby girl's ex was a bitch and treated her horribly, but Marselle still somewhat loves her, not very much but it's still there, and she doesn't want people to know how badly she hurt her.

Eliza: WHAT LIE DOESN'T HAUNT HER?? No but honestly, there's so many to choose from, which one do you want?? Her lying about how she doesn't hate her father as much as her mother?? Her lying and saying that if given the opportunity she wouldn't violently kill her mother?? (that's the one that truly haunts her bc it makes her believe she's capable of what her mother has done)

Mary: That she never wanted to see her father's grave again, it haunts her bc she does but she doesn't also, and what kind of daughter doesn't want to visit her fathers grave.

Julia: That she doesn't mind her birth father. In all actuality if he were to fall off a cliff and die, she wouldn't really care, that quite frankly terrifies her that she thinks that.

Allie: That her experience in the military has been great. She wanted a full combat position but they chose not to give her one since she's a woman. It pisses her off to no end.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

B: She thinks she looks the best in dark blue, and she does. It compliments her skin.

Zippo: Brown, and she does look good in brown.

Ollie: Cream, she believes it compliments her skin and it does.

Torrie: Even though green is her favorite color, the colors she think she looks best in are black and white, or just a slew of random colors, they all look good.

Marselle: Beige! It's her favorite color so of course she thinks she looks good in it. p.s. she does.

Eliza: red and black, and omfg she does look amazing in those colors.

Mary: green and black, but also mostly darker earth tones, she likes how they compliment her hair, and she does look good in them

Julia: any kind of blue! She looks great in them!

Allie: earth tones, or any of wtf the 70s had going on with their color pallets, she looks great in them

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation?

B: walking or train!! Sometimes by car, but that's only if she really needs to

Zippo: sadly car, that's the only way she really gets around, she walks sometimes tho

Ollie: trollies!! She doesn't mind cars, but she just prefers trollies, she likes to look at the scenery and the atmosphere

Torrie: another car girly, she'll take the the train but only if necessary

Marselle: saldy she grew up with cars, but her next choice for some strange reason is boats don't ask why, it's just boats

Eliza: even though she grew up around cars, she prefers trains and the like, if it doesn't give her a reason to be alone she wants it

Mary: she likes walking everywhere, yea she'll use a car if necessary, but she mostly walks, but she has to be careful because she can get into her head and it's not fun

Julia: a car girl once again, but she's not opposed to trains, she loves them!

Allie : hear me out, tractors. You can drive them around and get around with them. But in all seriousness, she would get around with them or by horse, but she's a realist and knows she need to use a car

#I apologize for it being late #oc shit #alexi rambles

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belgique2023 · 9 months

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Tag 1

An einem Sonntag könnte man in den wohlverdienten und heiß ersehnten Urlaub fahren-muss man aber nicht. Stattdessen wird früh morgens um 8.00 Uhr (regulär geplante Urlaubabfahrtszeit) ein Abstecher nach Heidelberg - Schlierbach in die Orthopädische Unfallklinik gemacht. Angelikas Arm, bzw. rechte Schulter, ist schlimm kaputt, macht schlimm Aua und möchte (noch) nicht mit in den Urlaub fahren. Vor Ort wird er erstaunlich schnell begutachtet, geröngt aber leider nicht schnell genug mit Drogen versorgt. Angelika hat schlimme Schmerzen und möchte, dass diese Geburt einfach nur ein schnelles und glimpfliches Ende nimmt. Erste Prognosen der Pseudoärztin Prof. Dr. C.Kosla werden abgegeben: Von ordentlicher Prellung, Bänderriss, über Bruch, bis hin zu Arm ab ist alles dabei. Der Schuldige für diesen Armunfall ist übrigens ein Koffer namens Trolli (gute Freunde*innen dürfen ihn auch Olli nennen ((oh weh, der Wein)), der im Flugzeug auf dem Rückflug von Budapest nach Frankfurt der Schwerkraft ein jähes Endes setzen wollte, indem er frontal auf Angelikas Schulter zum Stoppen kam.

Nach gefühlt stundenlangem Warten, 35 Schmerzpresswehen, Schweiß und Beinahtränen später - die Diagnose: Kalkschulter. Viele Schmerzmittel und eine sexy Armwurstpelle in hautfarben zur Ruhigstellung sollen dem Elend (bald) ein Ende setzen.

Zum Glück wirkt das Schmerzmittel relativ schnell und Angelika wird es wohlig müde.

Der Urlaubsplan reift wieder. Angelika zieht den erneuten Antritt der Reise in Erwägung. Zuhause angekommen müssen aber erst mal wieder Kräfte gesammelt werden und wie kann man das besser als im Schlaf. Angelika ist durch die Schmerzen und die Medikamente fix und fertig.

Corinna zeigt Mitleid und storniert die erste Nacht in Maastricht. Angelika ist sichtlich froh über den dazugewonnenen Rehatag. Eine neue Bleibe in Maastricht für den kommenden Tag wird gebucht und Wendy (Vermieterin der Ferienwohnung in Oostende/Belgien) über die Verspätung informiert.

Angelikas Koffer wird am Abend gepackt

und mit ordentlich Drogen intus geht es schlussendlich ins Bett mit der Spannung was der neue Tag wohl bringen mag?

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one-twisted-sister · 4 years

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♦ Ollie!

QUAD TIME

“Oh! a furrever furend nya!, but they are hard to find, might be with the trolls in black jackets”.

Pale with Ollie is hard she doesn’t trust easy not after her time in the black market she allowed her trust to be broken twice so now she’s very on guard. In pale however if anyone were to successfully get that quad they would have a purring buddy for life, they would have to deal with head butts and being nuzzled against flopped on even, she’d sit and listen to everything her pale would have to say or any problems they were having just so they could get it off their chest and out she would try her best to help them out and make them happy. Who wouldn’t be happy with warm kitty hugs and paps?.

#Ollie #trollie-polies

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evitnews · 6 years

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On Saturday, January 27, we would like to invite you to attend the Annual EVIT Expo from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. at the Dr. A. Keith Crandell (Main) Campus.

EVIT Expo is the perfect time for East Valley families to see career training options that are available for high school students and adults, and for current EVIT parents to see what their students have been working on during the fall semester.

Read more: http://bit.ly/evitexpo1217 #EVITExpo #WeAreEVIT

#East Valley Institute of Technology (EVIT)#Pulse Radio #88.7 FM The Pulse #Family Fun #Games #Live Music #Trolley Rides #Ollie The Trollie #Pet Zone #Animal #Food #Events #East Valley #EVIT Expo #Education #Arizona Career and Technical Education

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dailyboothdan · 6 years

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congrats on 400 emily !! you should definitely rate my blog oof thanks !!

oof!! thanks you rad lad!!

url - wowzers!! | i have no idea what it means but ily dearly |💋 v v cute | i want to marry it 💋| nxksjah its the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen!!

(b)icon - who | i love?? |💋 beautiful!!!!! | i want to steal it 💋| id kill for it (not actually trust me i’m as peaceful as a sleeping koala)

theme (mobile bc i’m too lazy to go on my computer) - v stylish | cutest thing i’ve seen other than dnp&dogs |💋 sleek and lovely spy | i want to eat it 💋| i’m going to chuck it across the room with love

posts - not my type (i love dogs) |💋 lovely stuff friend | quality content👌 💋| just take over my blog | i’ll literally rb everything on there

rate - | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |💋 8 💋| 9 | 10

following? - no (i still love you trust me) | now i am!! |💋 uhh yes?? | if i ever unfollow its tumblr’s malfunctioning not me okay | MOST DEFINITELY ILYYYY 💋

comments - your theme!! so simplistic but cute!! also you could totally take over my blog if you were more of a dnp blog!! but i understand why you have a dodie blog,,,she pretty cute 👀👀

#400 followers blogrates #ollie my trollie #i feel like #why #would you do that

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kriscrowloveuso · 7 years

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I made this quite a long time ago and forgot to post it here

Please like/reblog if u save 💚

#troye sivan #tro pics #troye mellet #troye sivan lockscreen #lockscreen #olly alexander #olly alexander pics #olly alexander lockscreen #years & years #lgbtq #gay man #gay boy #gay men #gay #love is love #love is not a choice #tolly #trolly

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ozfoodhunterweb11 · 4 years

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#ollies trolley caboolture #Ollies Trolly Menu #Burger Restaurant near me #restaurants caboolture #restaurants near caboolture.

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iknarfink · 5 years

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#Trollie #Ollie #TrumpDoggie (at Thornton, Colorado) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1h32WXAG-F/?igshid=168y0cq0a8hts

#trollie #ollie #trumpdoggie

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smcadam · 4 years

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Day 21 of #OC-Tober- LAUGHTER!

Thanks to @oc-growth-and-development for prompt list!

So meet Ollie and Jess! Oliver is Karen’s baby brother and a bad enough prankster before you add in a baby kitsune. Jess is a tiny ball of mischief with power to make mist illusions- normally her “human” form, making her one mystic who doesnt need external potions or magic to take a human form.

However her illusory self has barely any mass, so having someone with fingers and *thumbs* and muscle is a terrifying upgrade for the duo.

Normally very magical mystical creatures are hunted to low numbers in my world, but I like the idea that Kitsune were too damn annoying for hunters to take down and they stuck to straightforward stuff like dragons and unicorns. Much less trolly.

#kitsune #foxgirl #oc-tober #oc-tober2020 #duo #prank #mischief #emergence #unveiledlegends #kit #my ocs #original character

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mostlikelyshutup · 3 years

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thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

#harry potter #sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #hermione granger #ron weasley #k mumbles #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #hagrid #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #long post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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tristanclarington · 3 years

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the right time and place | trollie

Tristan was fuming. Dressed to the nines, armed with all his PR skills and charm, he had made an appointment with the dean in a last-ditch effort to permit a transfer to a school in New York, closer to his work. He was denied, as per the stipulations of his expulsion/dissolution of his claim. It was all so ludicrous to Tristan, so to say he was frustrated was a massive understatement. As he stormed across the grounds, he caught sight of one Ollie Smythe, that pink hair was pulled back into a very cute ponytail, accompanied by a slutty little skirt and matching blouse. Fuck. Tristan hissed under his breath at the sight, wanting nothing more than to pick up his tiny little body, throw him over his shoulder and whisk him off to his God damn suite to have his God damn way with him. Instead of making the first move, though - Tristan stood back and waited for Ollie to notice him, interested to see what sort of bratty thing the bitch would say this time to get Tristan going. @switchingolliesmythe

#13th #September #2021 #September 13th 2021 #f2f #f2f: ollie smythe #ollie smythe #the right time and place

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darklightmiwxo · 5 years

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olly and troye edit

i edit this on my pc and its my second time using this app.

#trolly #troyeandolly #ollyandtroye #troye and olly #olly and troye

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ditsotheclown · 5 years

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Clown Candy

Before we get into it, I will just let you know that these candies are not substitutes for a good clown diet, and should only be fed to your clowns every few days. Also, keep in mind that individual clowns have individual tastes!

1. NEVER give your clowns any form of chocolate or caramels, while clowns can have peanuts, the treats that they are usually packaged with will seriously upset clown stomachs.

2. Swedish fish, Haribo and trolli gummies These candies are great for clowns, but only give small and medium clowns one piece at a time. Large clowns can have two.

3. Laffy Taffy Only give these candies to hardier clowns like Auguste and Tramp clowns.

4. Jolly Rancher Crunch n Chews These candies are great, they go from hard to chewy, giving your clown some extra stimulation!

5. Starburst These candies are small enough that the chew factor will not do any damage to your clown, even pierrots!

#clowns #clown #clowncore #text #clown care #mine

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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What Might Have Been - 17

@goodomenscelebration - Theme Prompts

Continuing to post as many as possible in one evening!

If you missed a chapter, they are all available on AO3!

CW for briefly described but very bad injuries; and for creepy abandoned towns

For those who need a reminder: “Crowley” is our Crowley, while his “mirror image” is the Alternate Universe version. “Aziraphale” (or the “Guardian of Humanity”) is the Alternate Universe angel, while “Kasbeel” is ours, in disguise.

I apologize for that being confusing.

Holiday

“Tell me about the angel.”

Crowley’s mirror image slumped against the wall, looking blankly at the space between them.

It was the only thing he ever asked. He never spoke of his own Aziraphale.

At first, Crowley had thought it was a trick. He’d kept his responses vague, evasive. What do you want me to say? Smug bastard with white wings. The mirror image had simply nodded.

Over time, Crowley started telling stories from their past, short ones, ones he thought over carefully, to ensure they wouldn’t reveal too much.

He likes oysters, way too much. Just. Salty, briny disgusting oysters, and he’ll eat a dozen of them in one sitting. Slurps them, too.

He can’t stand Charles Dickens. No idea why. Might just be that his customers are always asking for him, but I think they met once.

He’s been trying to learn to pull a coin from someone’s ear for over a century. Still drops the damn thing half the time. Isn’t it only supposed to take ten thousand hours to learn a skill? He’s coming up on a hundred thousand hours I think, and he still can’t get the fingers right.

And then, somewhere along the way, he stopped even guarding himself that much.

“He helps people,” Crowley said, turning his leg, which was still stiff and sore from the last torture session. The floor around him was black with demonic blood. “Even…when it’s really not worth it, even when there’s something way more important going on. One time, we were at this little restaurant in Italy. I turn my back for a minute, and there he goes, off washing dishes. He hates doing that sort of stuff, you know, always leaves them in the sink until I take care of it. But the girl in the back had been sick, and he sent her home and took over the job himself. Didn’t even use miracles, by the way, and couldn’t figure out how the machine worked, so he did it all by hand.”

“What…” the mirror image asked. “What was the more important thing?”

“Oh, uh, I’d been planning to ask him something. Not important what. We picked up the conversation later, but, um, he really ruined my first attempt.”

A hundred and forty miles to London.

Alone, Kasbeel could fly the distance in just under five hours. He would be exhausted, but he’d had a lot of practice the last few years.

He was not alone.

A Roman legion could walk twenty miles a day, setting up camp every night and breaking it in the morning. They could have made it in a week. Harold Godwinson had crossed from Yorkshire to Sussex in a little more than that.

But Kasbeel wasn’t leading an army.

He was leading nearly three hundred tired, hungry humans, most of them young, through enemy territory. Where they could be spotted at any moment and taken from him.

He took a deep breath, and walked through the crowd.

“Patrick, how’s the leg? Healing well? Ollie, make sure you hold onto Jennifer’s hand. Mrs. Sherwood, that’s not too many children? Please let Mrs. Kumar know if you need help. Amiyah, why don’t you move up to the front where we can see you? Alex, please, stay with your group, I don’t want to ask you again.” He greeted as many as he could, clasping shoulders, grasping hands.

When he reached the front, Lyla was waiting. She’d arranged her hair to hide the Mark on her cheekbone, as many did if they could. He bit his tongue and didn’t say anything. It was her choice.

“Are we ready to go?” she asked, tilting her head towards the highway, cutting south towards London.

“I believe so.” He glanced at the sky, black, filled with stars once more. It was comforting, and frightening. What else would change? “Let’s get as far as we can before sunrise.”

Ishliah had never seen the world before the apocalypse. Just barracks and training until the day the war started, then fighting, and fighting and fighting.

What spread before her now was almost incomprehensible. Little short plants growing everywhere from the ground, a vibrant, impossible green. And the taller ones – the trees – reaching almost to the top of the wall, branches spreading thick with fruit. Little animals sat in the branches, singing, not as varied or interesting as the singing of angels, but music nonetheless.

All that, and the sky above, brilliant blue again – it was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Ishliah of the Seventh Battalion. Welcome to New Eden.”

She turned, and her heart stopped in her chest. That face – she knew him, would never forget it, though now he was in uniform, flaming sword in hand. But the pale curls – the round face – the blue-grey eyes…

“You…” she managed, weakly.

“That would be the confirmation I need.” He stepped closer, still smiling. “I am Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, Principality of Earth and Guardian of Humanity. I believe you met someone claiming to be me, three years ago, according to your report.”

“That…it really was…you?” Her hands began to tremble, and she wondered if this was what fear felt like. She never felt it on the battlefield, but this was much, much worse.

Ishliah had lied in that report.

“No, it was not.” He patted her on the shoulder. “And I don’t believe many others understand what you truly witnessed. I don’t fully understand it myself, but I mean to. Now. You said this angel…” a screen appeared in his hand and he scrolled down, lips pursed as he read. “Here it is. He took you into a hidden room and tortured you for information? Is this true?”

“Yes?” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes. There was a great deal of pain and…he asked me questions…”

Something caught her eye down in the garden. A group of humans, being led to a smaller walled area not far away. The human in the lead was shouting, and they all seemed to be bound together on some sort of chain.

“Even here we have our troublemakers,” Aziraphale said, with something like regret. “Sometimes the children don’t grow obediently as we’d hoped, and sometimes the Retrieval teams make mistakes when identifying the Elect. Not often, but we have been very busy lately.” He nodded towards the smaller walled section. “The holding pen is their last chance. Gabriel will arrive in a week to deliver the final Judgement on them.”

“And…if they’re found wanting…?”

“They’re cast out, of course. Far from here. The Eastern Gate, you understand, is purely ceremonial.” He gestured to the outer wall beside them.

Ishliah glanced down to see, not quite directly below them, a single stone missing from the completely smooth face of the wall. It hardly looked large enough for even a young human to slip through. She checked the inside curve of the wall. No breaks there – the missing stone didn’t even reach all the way.

She looked up again to find the Guardian scrolling through her report with pursed lips. “Ishliah. I wonder if, perhaps, you weren’t completely honest in what you said?”

She clenched her jaw, the fear suddenly reaching a height she had never suspected. Was this why traitors deserted? She would do anything not to feel this way again…

But the Guardian merely smiled, stepping close, lowering his voice. “My dear. Do not worry. What you witnessed was…truly extraordinary, and of course you thought no one would believe you. But this is no longer an isolated incident. There have been…other reports, curious ones, and yours doesn’t quite line up. But if you tell me the truth now, all will be forgiven.”

Her eyes slid again to the holding pen. “All?”

He rested a hand on her back, turning her away, until she faced him and only him. “Now, Ishliah. Tell me about the angel.”

“Tell me about the angel.”

Crowley tried to sit up straighter. His leg had healed, but now there was some great gaping gash across his stomach, and the way his manacled arm hung kept stretching the wound.

“He’s a complete hedonist. Foods. Wines. He goes to the barber every month. His hair doesn’t grow, he’s never had a beard, and he never even changes his look. I have no idea why he does it, except to have someone wash his hair and buff his nails. But he always comes out smiling, like he’s found the secret to peace on earth.”

“Nh,” the mirror image said. Crowley looked up to find he had a hand pressed to the bleeding wound on his neck. But it hadn’t sounded like a noise of pain. “I…uh, yeah. I know the look.”

“He likes to spoil me, too, when he has a chance. Trying to cheer me up, I think. I don’t tell him when it works, though. I’ve got a reputation to maintain. One time in Rome, there was this place with oysters—”

“Stop.”

Crowley looked across the cell, but his mirror image might as well have lost interest, tugging himself towards the corner to sleep.

After three days of travel they reached Burton-upon-Trent.

The gang of wanderers divided into teams to explore, looking for supplies: food, medicine, clothing, shoes, anything that could be used as a weapon. Kasbeel and Lyla walked together with Squad A down the empty street, hot with the kind of blistering heat that only comes on a sunny day. Barricades were put up here and there, signs of the Marked painted on the walls, but no one came out to challenge them.

“I don’t like this,” Lyla muttered. “I don’t want to fight, but…where is everyone?”

All of the villages they’d passed had been abandoned. Apart from the angelic patrols, England was apparently empty.

Kasbeel shook his head. “The Sainsbury’s should be up ahead. Why don’t you…” he trailed off, looking at a few unbroken windows up the side of the street. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I have something to investigate here.”

Two hours later, Squad A emerged with four shopping trollies loaded with cans of soup, vegetables, powdered milk – everything they thought might still be edible after seven years. Lyla doubted it would last them more than a day or two.

No sooner had she stepped into the overly-bright day – she’d forgotten how painful the sun could be – then she heard a shriek, a high-pitched scream of a small child.

She spun, grabbing a can of food, ready to throw it at whatever angel, demon or human threatened her people –

The wanderers had gathered in the parking lot of the carwash across the street, and jets of water filled the air. She could still hear the children shrieking, but everyone else looked relaxed, calm, many of them smiling.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, prepared to push her way through the crowd, but they parted, pressing her forward until she saw the set up.

Four chairs, padded and high-backed, stood in a line across the parking lot. In each one, a child sat, dripping wet, while behind them the adults scrubbed and combed their hair, snipping with delicate scissors. They passed a hose up and down the line of chairs, rinsing the children off.

On one side, Alex had mastery of a single hose, waiting until a chair was free. “Next!” Ollie ran up, bouncing eagerly for his turn. Alex turned on the hose and drenched him, from head to toe, while the little boy shrieked, jumping up and down in the water. “Alright, you’re clean, go get your hair cut.”

On the other side, Kasbeel had set up a small table with two chairs. He sat on one side, and delicately rubbed at Mickey’s nails with an emery board, a pair of glasses she’d never seen before perched on his nose. “Ah, Lyla, you’re back. Join the queue, but be careful, many of the older customers are finding Alex’s methods a little intense.”

“What are you doing?” Lyla shoved at the table, causing little bottles of nail varnish to rattle. “You could have been helping us find food, and instead you’re – you’re wasting time!”

“I most certainly am not. Time is a precious commodity, you know, and ought never to be wasted.” He put down the emery board. “Do you want a color, Mickey? I think the pale pink would look wonderful.”

And Mickey – tough, stoic Mickey, veteran of five battles in the demonic army, Mark emblazoned on his brow for all to see – asked, “Can I try the gold? I like the way it shines.”

“Of course. A wonderful choice.”

“Look at me!” Lyla slammed her hand onto the table again. “What is wrong with you? We need to get everyone ready to move, we’re still weeks away from London. We don’t need—”

“My dear, you most certainly do need.” Kasbeel pulled off the glasses, brows snapping down. “Look at our people. They’ve been living in the mountains, in the dirt, covered in their own filth. It isn’t right.”

“So what? Who cares how we look? Humans lived like that for thousands of years. Our ancestors didn’t need to be pampered, they survived with the bare minimum—”

“Oh, no, who told you that?” Kasbeel shook a jar of nail varnish and began applying the first coat to Mickey’s nails. “I was there, and I can tell you. People bathed. People spent hours on their hair, and their eyebrows, and their nails, and elaborate henna tattoos, although I wasn’t able to find any supplies for that. It isn’t about wanting to look good, or to impress anyone. It’s about taking care of yourselves.” He blew a breath across Mickey’s nails, encouraging them to dry. “Being clean, being groomed, it makes humans feel human again.”

Lyla’s lip curled in disgust. But she looked back at the crowd, the smiling faces, the way the kids splashed in the puddles with bare feet, the way the adults laughed behind the stolen salon chairs, passing the hose back and forth. The teenagers all tugged at each other’s newly-short hair, running their fingers through it, marveling in how light it felt on a hot day.

She hadn’t seen her people like this. Hadn’t seen anyone like this. Not in so very long.

“Fine. If that’s what you want. And since we’re clearly going to spend the rest of the day here, I might as well look for a place to sleep. Something that’s actually necessary.”

She stormed up the street, past the shattered windows of the salons and nail parlors, past the Sainsbury’s again, and around the corner. She kept walking until the sounds of the crowd at the carwash were long gone, then just stood, quietly, in the street.

She wanted to scream, until the knot in her stomach was gone. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and she couldn’t find the voice for it. So, she just stood there, in the street, fists clenched.

Until Kasbeel’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Would you like to talk about it, my dear?”

“Talk about what? I told you – I’m – I’m looking for a place for us to stay.”

“There were plenty of townhouses in the other direction, you know. And I’ve already sent a team to explore them. Unless you think a, er, door stripping establishment would make a better place to spend the night.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m mad, I feel like I don’t have any control over my mind. I’m just – I have a million thoughts racing in my head and I can’t even slow down long enough to actually think any of them, I just know we have to keep moving.”

“You’re afraid,” he told her. “You’re stressed, and although I forget it sometimes, you are still very young. I shouldn’t ask so much of you.”

“I can handle it!”

“Yes, you can. You handle it very well, taking care of the others, taking care of your brother before that. But, you know,” his hand rested under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. “It’s perfectly alright to take care of yourself, too. Indulge a little. Let yourself be happy. They deserve it. You deserve it. And it will make you feel better.”

“I just…I’m not sure I can relax anymore. What if they come for us while we’re all standing around, or—”

“If they do, I will be ready. I promise. I have not let my guard down for an instant.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, rubbed her back like a child. “That fear you feel. You know if the angels come back, there’s nothing you can do, but you want to be ready anyway. Your mind is telling you to find a solution that doesn’t exist. I’m sorry. But there is something you can do, I think.”

“What’s that?”

“There are many of my former colleagues who believe that anything which makes humans happy is a sin. I believe it is always worth indulging, just a little, to show them how little you care.”

“Oh. And one other thing.” Gabriel wasn’t happy. He often wasn’t happy these days. Bringing about the end of the world, it seemed, was more complicated than anyone had expected.

Aziraphale kept his face carefully blank.

“We have reports of a gang of hundreds of humans moving south, but the scouts can’t seem to get near it. Vanishes every time they try. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

“Yes. I’ve been following up on these rumors for some time. The circumstances appear to me, well, nearly incomprehensible.” He hesitated, but only for a second. “It would appear these humans are being led by a rogue angel, posing as a scout or a messenger.”

“Rogue? You mean a deserter?” A brief flash of anger in Gabriel’s eyes, but it quickly vanished, smoothed over by something calm and patient. “Well. At least my best agent is already on this. Glad you took the initiative. Now. Tell me about the angel.”

The mirror image didn’t say anything today. He wasn’t a mirror image, either. He’d angered the angels who had come in earlier, refusing to cry out as they hurt him. Shoftiel had left him as a serpent, coiled mutely on the ground, and then they’d turned to Crowley.

“I can tell you about the angel,” Crowley offered. His throat was still raw from the screaming. They hadn’t even asked any questions, simply given him back his wings and broken every bone in them. It hurt, worse than almost anything else in the last three years. He wondered if it would ever stop hurting.

The serpent lifted his head, then let it fall heavily.

“He…he…” Crowley closed his eyes. It was so hard to think of a story. Not just the pain. His mind longed to be blank. “He is so soft. Like a cloud, like a warm blanket, like a pile of feathers. And that’s all most people ever see of him. A fool and a pushover and a – a – a lazy pleasure seeker who likes his books and his chair and his food. It’s what he wants, though. He wants to be soft.”

He closed his eyes and tilted back his head, ignoring the way his wings felt like a thousand pieces of shattered glass.

Far away, an angel led a troop of humans down the motorway. He laughed as he walked, carrying one of the youngest on his back. In the week of travel, they’d grown dirty again, their nails had lost their color, their clothes become faded and stained. But they still smiled, still tossed their heads, running fingers through their hair. The young woman beside him had hers cropped almost completely off, exposing the Mark on her cheekbone.

Suddenly, the angel stopped walking, his eyes locked on the sky above. None of the others had heard or sensed anything, but he knew what was coming. Three hundred humans gathered close in the shelter of his wide white wings, and his eyes took on the color of steel.

“But then…when he needs it…when the things he cares for are threatened…he isn’t soft at all.”

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