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Fallen (trying to find my way back to you)

Summary:

After the invasion of the Angel's Isles, Luz and co face uncertainty on how to proceed with their lives. The Isles are overrun with demons, the surviving angels seek asylum on Earth, and the world feels a darkness spreading.

The aftermath of everything is not a pretty one.

Notes:

READ THE FIRST WORK IN THE SERIES FIRST!!!!!

To all those returning, welcome back to the shit show. I'm putting the Karate AU on hiatus, because really, it was a bad idea to start another series right now.

Enjoy! Or don't...

 

Chapter 1: Acceptance

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

She stands, feeling weightless and insubstantial while two figures crash down from the sky in front of her. Everything is grey, dark from the smoke and ash, thick and choking. 

 

The ram-horned demon is there, skin the same shade as the ash-grey sky, molten red eyes crinkling at the corners with humorless amusement. Luz watches, trying so desperately to struggle forward, but she’s made of nothing more solid than the ash floating around her.

 

She feels as heavy as lead, yet as light as air.

 

The demon, grinning, leans back from the angel held captive under him.

 

It’s Amity.

 

Luz tries to scream while the archangel lifts her head, but she doesn't have a voice. Amity’s eyes are dull, face bruised and battered from the fall. She looks… frail, skin washed out and paler than usual. The archangel coughs weakly, her words tired and barely more than a whisper.

 

“You… did this to me.”

 

She feels herself dissolving away, as powerless to help as a memory or a shadow. 

 

She watches as that silver knife slides out from Amity’s shoulder blades. She watches as the light quickly fades from the archangel’s eyes, wings turning grey like the ash around them, dissolving into nothingness.

 

Amity falls to the ground, limp.

 

~~~

 

“NO!”

 

Luz bolts upright, clutching the rough sheets that are now damp with sweat. Her breath comes in uneven pants as she struggles to control her racing heart. The room is dark, only the faintest slivers of early morning light streaming in through the closed curtains.

 

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

 

Only a dream.

 

Amity is down the hall.

 

She’s alive.

 

She’s alive, you’re alive, Mami is alive, Eda, King, Edric, Emira, Viney, Gus, Willow, they are all alive.

 

You’re safe.

 

After a few deep, shaky breaths, her heart rate returns to an almost normal rhythm.

 

The nightmares aren’t new.

 

Luz’s been having them ever since their group landed on Earth, seeking asylum in “The Owl House”, as Eda calls the glorified shack that they’re now living in. Every night, without fail, night terrors plague her like an illness, bringing death every time she closes her eyes.  

 

It’s been…

 

She doesn’t actually know how many days they’ve been here, or weeks for that matter.

 

Anyhow, each night that Luz’s slept on this very uncomfortable mattress, the dreams haunt her. It’s always the same thing, someone, whether it’s Amity, Willow, Gus, her mother, or all of them, they die and blame it on her. Every time, she feels weightless, unable to move or call out their names. 

 

And for Amity…

 

Well, let’s just say that Luz sees the archangel most often in her nightmares.

 

It’s gotten to the point where no one comes to check on her when she wakes up screaming. The first night, nearly everyone rushed in, Willow and Camila at the front of the pack, fussing over her for a good thirty minutes until she assured them that she was alright. The next morning, her mother and Willow came in.

 

The next, only her mother. After about a week, no one.

 

Luz prefers it this way, no one seeing the blind panic on her face, the dried tears lingering on her cheeks. She’s glad that no one forces her to come out of the little room, besides meals and to use the restroom. No one wants to have the talk yet. 

 

She wonders if Amity can hear her screams. Surely she can, the archangel is only a few feet to her left, and the walls are thin. She wonders if Amity feels a pang in her chest when she hears them, or if the archangel doesn’t give a damn.

 

Not an archangel, not anymore. Because of me.

 

Luz doesn’t want to think of her as fallen, because it makes everything seem more real. 

 

My fault. All of it is my fault.

 

If she had fangs, she’d use them to rip out her own throat.

 

~~~

 

Amity’s POV

 

Her screaming wakes Amity up again.

 

She has her own nightmares, sure, but she doesn’t understand why the angel has to be so vocal about it.

 

Maybe because every time Amity screams, or even breathes too deeply, the wounds down her back burn with a fury. So she stays quiet. 

 

Unlike some people. 

 

Then again, she has always been loud, bubbly and jubilant, warm and impossible to push away- 

 

Stop it.

 

It’s safe to say that Amity has been at war with her own mind, ever since she woke up in this little room with a rickety wooden ceiling. She knows every splinter, every crack in the wood by now, having spent countless hours laying and looking at it while her back screams in agony. 

 

She knows what happened. 

 

She knows what it means.

 

And really, Amity can’t blame her for selling them out now, it would be hypocritical. For one fallen to blame another for their actions. 

 

That doesn’t mean she can’t be angry at her, furious even sometimes. So angry that she wants to yell and hit things, but of course, that would make her wounds burn even worse. 

 

It doesn’t mean that she wants to forget everything between them, to beg for Lu- her to hold Amity, to stave away some of the pain that echoes around her heart. 

 

She still… 

 

She doesn’t know what she wants.

 

Amity lays prone, counting the lines in the wooden beams above her. She already knows what the number will be, 246, but it distracts her from the war going on in her head. To forgive or not to forgive, that is the question. To decide to love again, at the risk of a broken heart.

 

She scoffs.

 

Her heart is long since broken. The fragments lie in her chest, cutting and sawing at everything that is still whole inside of her. 

 

Amity’s on number 67 when the door creaks open. Eda pokes a hesitant head in, holding a roll of cotton bandages. She lets out a tiny groan.

 

For some reason, she expected it to be her. 

 

“It’s time to change the bandages.”

 

As the fallen angel makes her way towards Amity’s bed, she doesn’t say anything else. They have a mutual agreement; Eda comes in every morning to tend to her wounds, Amity grits her teeth and lets the woman do it without complaint. Eda does this in place of Lu- her mother, because she can’t stand to look Camila Noceda in the eyes.

 

They’re the same shade of brown as hers. 

 

At least Eda’s hands are gentle, careful as she unwraps the bandages from her chest. It hurts, but she bites her tongue and says nothing. The woman sighs, throwing the old ones away, re-doing the wrapping. It’s not a happy sigh.

 

“They aren’t getting better. Should be scarring over by now.”

 

Amity purses her lips and doesn’t turn to look at her.

 

“You should…”

 

The dam breaks, and bitter words leak out.

 

“I should what, Eda?”

 

The woman’s long fingers falter on her bandages.

 

“Let Camila fix them. I’m no healer.”

 

Her throat feels thick, and all of a sudden hard it’s to breathe. Amity’s fangs bite into her lip, trying to hold back irate words, or perhaps tears. She doesn’t want to think about Camila in her room, looking at her with pity or perhaps disgust over what Amity put her through. She doesn’t want to have to look at the older angel, and be reminded of her face. 

 

“No.”

 

“Kid…”

 

“I said no.”

 

Eda relents, drawing her fingers away. She can feel the disappointment radiating from the woman, but she doesn’t leave the room. It’s like she’s waiting for something.

 

Surprisingly, Eda is really the only person Amity can tolerate seeing right now. It’s almost funny, that she has the least amount of bad memories associated with the woman than anyone else here. She doesn’t want to see her siblings, because they’ll baby her. She doesn’t want to see Willow, or Gus for that matter, because Amity’s worried that they’ll try to strangle her.

 

She doesn’t want to see Viney, and be reminded of what the older angel has with her sister. To be reminded of what she once had with her. 

 

And, she doesn’t want to see Camila or her, because of the obvious reasons.

 

“You know, I said to her once, that the next time I ever saw you I’d punch you in the face.”

 

The woman laughs. Amity can’t remember the last time she heard laughter. 

 

“Do you still want to?”

 

“... No.”

 

She feels a weight shift off of her bed, and Eda moves to take a seat in the chair across from her. When she finally lifts her head up, tearing her eyes away from the blankets, the woman is looking at her sadly. It’s not quite pity, more of a quiet weariness, new dark circles and lines etching Eda’s face.

 

“I know you blame this on Luz, but it’s not her fault. It’s mine.”

 

Amity clenches her jaw at the name, hands tightening around the sheets and wounds aching anew. 

 

“Be angry at me.”

 

“I’m angry at everyone.”

 

“... I know.”

 

The room is quiet, save for the creaking of footsteps above them. 

 

“We have to talk about this sometime soon.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

She sounds like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She could fix this, the physical wounds at least, if she just let Camila heal her. It would take away the pain. 

 

But, Amity somehow feels like she deserves to suffer this way. To pay penance for what she did to her, to everyone, for making them worry and risk their lives to search for her. All the while she was throwing herself into the thick of things, not really caring whether she lived or died. 

 

The angel had looked so scared.

 

Death probably would’ve hurt less than this. 

 

Notes:

Luz: *depressed*

Amity: *depressed*

Eda: *depressed*

everyone else: *depressed*

the readers: *probably also depressed*

Me: hehe

 

yes i'm still doing the comment featuring thingy so it would be very cool of you to leave a comment...

Chapter 2: Letting yourself go insane is cheaper than therapy

Summary:

What the title said ^

Notes:

“Liz: i have made a story
Us: you fucked up a perfectly good family is what you did. look at them. they've got depression

Seriously tho, damn it, why must you make these poor gaybies suffer so much ;-;“

- Wardides

I’M SORRY, THE SADNESS IS NECESSARY it will get better eventually ;-;

 

Yum I love listening to Russian songs about suicide as I’m writing this ✌️

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

The days were starting to warp into one another, bending around the edges into one blurred mass that didn’t seem to have a beginning or an end. Her only way to tell the time was by the rise and fall of the sun, a brief prelude and closer to each day. She welcomed the soft oranges and reds that streamed in through her window, partially hidden by the mass of trees surrounding the shack.

 

It felt sometimes as if the day sped by faster than a blink of an eye, while others crawled by like the carpenter ants marching across the hardwood floors. All the while, Amity attempts to ignore the throbbing slashes across her back, nasty red reminders of the suffering she’s trying so hard to let fade into her subconscious.

 

It’s been… weeks. How many, she couldn’t say. 

 

Three, four, five? Six, seven, eight, nine… ten?

 

Amity feels her sanity fuzzing at the edges like the changing of the days. 

 

She knows that the rest of the group are getting antsy, waiting for her to recover. Eda still hasn’t told them everything, apparently waiting for the day that Amity feels like getting out of bed for more than a few minutes just to use the bathroom. She knows that everyone wants to make a plan, a decision on how to move forward, and she knows that they’re getting tired of her.

 

Tired of expecting her to get better overnight, like magic, like a miracle.

 

But every morning when Eda comes in to change the bandages wrapping her chest, the woman shakes her head at the archangel.

 

Well, not archangel, not anymore. Only fallen. A cankerous sore on the rest of the group, a pity and a disappointment. 

 

She wonders how Eda bore this weight all alone. The woman had told her a few days ago… 

 

Weeks?

 

… Anyhow, she’d told Amity her story, of how Belos had taken her wings because she had dared to speak out against him. Amity had felt acid rise up in her throat at the tale, feeling a new type of hatred to fixate on besides the kind she felt towards herself. For a short bit afterwards, she’d felt like there was a purpose for her again.

 

To take down the archangel who’d she’d looked up to for so long. To do something with the unbridled fury in her chest. 

 

Reality quickly set in once more as the constant throbbing of her wounds beat a rhythm to match her heart’s. 

 

Amity wasn’t getting better. The deep cuts had scabbed over after a few days, but were reopened again and again as she thrashed from night terrors, not letting herself scream out for her sake. She didn’t need to bear the extra burden of Amity’s nightmares, she obviously had her own to deal with.

 

Of course, the cruel, sadistic part of her wanted to let her tongue loose, to let out the agonized shrieks that had been trapped inside of herself for so long now. Amity sometimes wanted to make her suffer, to make her understand even a fraction of the torment that she was living through.

 

What scared her the most was that she might not even care.

 

The angel might not care whether she screamed her throat raw or kept silent, if she decided to stop eating the food given to her and just fall asleep forever, counting lines in the wood as she faded into permanent unconsciousness.

 

Stop it. That’s not true, and you know it.

 

But… did she know it?

 

Amity hadn’t seen her in so long, long enough that she was starting to forget why she didn’t even want to see her. Why she couldn’t even think her name anymore.

 

What was her name…?

 

Lu- 

 

Idiot. 

 

Don’t do that to yourself.

 

As much as she tried, Amity couldn’t forget.

 

~~~

 

“Amity?”

 

She groaned, shifting her head to the right, where grey morning light was just starting to beam through the windows. It was early, much too early for Eda to be up and bothering her.

 

“Cariño?”

 

If her back allowed it, Amity would’ve sat bolt upright, shifting into a defensive position. Instead, she rolled weakly towards the voice, tilting her head to where Camila Noceda was standing. The older angel watched her with a faint frown, though it was not unkind. Her heart thundered, panic lacing her veins in a way that made her feel more awake than she’d been in awhile. 

 

Her voice was thick and scratchy from misuse when she spoke. 

 

“Why are you here? Did Eda put you up to this?”

 

Amity was almost impressed at how little the words wavered. The older angel merely gave her a faint smile.

 

“No, she did not.”

 

Camila moved across the room, feet creaking on the wooden floors as she made way towards the chair Eda usually sat in. She studied Amity, who’s fingers trembled against the sheets as she looked into the woman’s dark eyes.

 

They were the same as hers.

 

An uncomfortable silence permeated the small space, broken only by Camila’s small cough. She repeats her previous question after a minute of awkward quiet.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Amity. I think you know why better than anyone else. You’re not healing.”

 

She tries desperately to quell the shake in her hands by twisting them harder into the blankets, but of course the woman notices. The look in her eyes softens, and it makes Amity unreasonably furious.

 

“Do not pity me. I don’t want it, nor your healing miracles.”

 

Her voice cracks slightly, a broken note ringing through the room.

 

“I’m getting better. Eda said so.”

 

Camila suddenly leans forward, trapping Amity's quivering hands between her own. Her hands are soft yet rough, warm and comforting, just like Luz’s… hers.

 

Her. Her. Her.

 

No name, a nameless thing, with eyes so bright and a smile that lights up the world-

 

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

 

The older angel seems to sense the turmoil inside of Amity’s mind, for she only clutches the fallen archangel’s hands tighter. She tries to breathe deeply, to contain the screams that want to ring out into the world. She wants to let go and sob into the woman’s arms.

 

“You aren’t getting better. Physically or emotionally.”

 

She wants to fall back asleep.

 

“You can’t heal the hurt inside until the physical pain is gone, and you don’t want the physical pain to go away until the emotional one does. You won’t get better like this, cariño.”

 

Physical pain blocks out the emotional pain.

 

Physical pain blocks out the emotional pain.

 

Physical pain blocks out the emotional pain.

 

 In her head, she’s training at the gym like any normal day, hitting punching bags until her knuckles bleed. She takes a deep breath, raising her stance again to go another round, sweat beading on her brow.

 

Normal. What even is normal, anymore?

 

“Amity, despite what you believe, you don’t deserve to suffer anymore.”

 

Don’t I?!

 

She feels tears leaking out of her eyes, falling onto the sheets, while Camila clutches her hands and whispers comforts in a language that she only spoke to Amity in during tender moments. 

 

She can’t bear this anymore.

 

“Just do it. Now. Before I change my mind.”

 

The older angel says nothing, only nodding and releasing Amity’s hands. Camila lifts her shirt, gently unwrapping the bandages. She hisses a slight bit at the pain, like usual, but the angel does it in a way that doesn’t hurt as much. Then again, the woman is a doctor, where Eda is not.

 

Palms press against her spine, and Amity bites her tongue to keep from yelling out. The pressure is slight, but her back is so tender that any touch makes her eyes water. Camila starts murmuring under her breath a healing spell, and the older angel’s hands grow warm with the miracle flowing through them.

 

She lets out a heavy sigh of relief as the pain slowly, but surely ebbs away.

 

The actual absence of burning, throbbing, and stabbing pain makes her feel as if she can breathe again. Like she can actually fill her lungs without worrying about the agony that usually accompanies deep breaths.

 

Amity feels… not whole again, but like the broken pieces of herself are finally starting to be glued back together.

 

Camila removes her hands and the soiled bandages, returning to her seat on the spindly little chair. The woman looks at her inquisitively, like how a doctor watches their patient to ensure their recovery. There’s something almost motherly in the gaze as well, a certain fondness in Camila’s warm brown eyes, something makes Amity’s chest ache. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

The words hold a double meaning.

 

“Better.”

 

It’s the truth, for once. 

 

Amity does feel better, not just physically, but like her soul is settling back into her body. Her mind feels clearer, not clouded by the ever present pain that accompanied every waking hour, and the night hours as well.

 

“That’s good.”

 

The older angel makes way to stand, and she almost wants to reach and grab the woman’s arm, to beg her to stay and chase away some of the loneliness. 

 

But she doesn’t, so Camila moves across the room, lingering only once she reaches the doorway.

 

“You know…”

 

Her words hold a heaviness, the very thing that Amity had been fearing seemingly about to be thrust into the world, into the small space between them.

 

Wait, I’m not ready-

 

“Luz cried every night after you left.”

 

There it was.

 

Amity’s heart leaps into her throat at the admission, at the name, and she feels phantom pains flaring across her back, taunting her. Her pulse is performing a chaotic dance, nerves alight with electricity and panic.

 

Of course Camila blames me for this, of course she wouldn’t just let it be.

 

But, the older angel doesn’t appear to be angry or spiteful, only melancholy and sorrowful when Amity refuses to meet her eyes.

 

“She loves you more than you can imagine, and I can assure you that she never wanted to hurt you.”

 

The woman leaves when Amity doesn’t answer, a knot of emotions lodged in her throat, choking her with self-hatred and the memory of all the awful decisions she’s made. 

 

Loves.

 

Not loved.

 

Why would the sun love something that only tries to hide from its light?

 

She doesn’t understand anything anymore.

Notes:

Amity: nO I DESERVE this pain! I don’t want your help!

Camila: -__-

Camila: Stop being emo and let me heal you before you get an infection

 

WHEEZING over the next chapter, it’s not funny, I just goddamn love writing Boscha (whoops spoilers) not sorry

Chapter 3: Uncomfortable Discussions

Notes:

"amity watching television when a redbull commercial starts playing: is this a joke? is even the TV mocking me now? wtf?"

- izi_fiema

IM CRYING THIS HAS NO RIGHT TO BE THIS FUNNY HJDHJGSKJHDJSGGD wtf... redbull gives you wings.... Alexa this is so sad play Despacito

 

ANYWAY this chapter is fuckin LOng and all plot (with gay angst!)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

It’s a rather ordinary afternoon.

 

Well, an ordinary unordinary afternoon. Nothing about her life is ordinary any more. 

 

Birds sing outside of her window, flitting through the trees, little splashes of color amongst the pines. There’s several melodies that the birds play, and she’s memorized them all by now. Luz sometimes finds herself humming along with the birdsong, like she’s doing now.

 

It’s peaceful, at least. 

 

She can see Emira and Viney sitting outside underneath one of the trees, heads close together in deep conversation. Neither of them are smiling, but then again, no one seems to smile anymore.

 

Not that Luz sees, anyhow.

 

Everyone treats her like a porcelain doll, fragile and delicate, as if any harsh words or rough treatment will break her. Maybe it’s because of the nightmares, maybe it’s because of Amity, but she’s starting to get sick of it.

 

I’m not a child. Not anymore.

 

Perhaps they’re right. Maybe she can’t handle it. Maybe she can’t handle this.

 

Luz doesn’t feel like she has much of a place here.

 

Her mother is the healer, Viney helps her out and also acts as a guard for the house. Gus and Willow also help to guard, and she’s heard that Willow’s started a little garden to bring life around here. The twins provide some comic relief, Luz knows, she’s heard Eda’s frustrated stomping when they pull assorted pranks. 

 

Eda, of course, provides their asylum, while King gathers information from the other local demons. 

 

And Amity… is bedridden. 

 

The one who doesn’t do anything around here is Luz.

 

She could. She could get up, help around the shack, help her mother make edible meals since Eda has no idea how to cook. She could at least go outside, take a look at Willow’s garden, or even sit under the shade of one of the pine trees. 

 

She doesn’t.

 

And after a while, everyone stopped trying to make her. 

 

So, it’s an ordinary unordinary afternoon when her mother lingers at Luz’s doorway, hands wrung and face tight with something akin to a grimace. She glances up at the sound of Camila’s footsteps, raising an eyebrow when her mother doesn’t say anything at first.

 

“We’re going to have the meeting now.”

 

The meeting.

 

Luz freezes, staring up at the older angel with eyes as wide as saucers.

 

“Now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

When all of them arrived at the shack, Eda had sat everyone down, save for Amity and Luz who were still unconscious. The woman said that she would explain everything, all the details after all of them were well. 

 

It was nearly a week later when Amity had finally woken up. She still was nowhere near well enough to sit up and listen to a conversation, so the meeting was postponed.

 

That week stretched into two, and the archangel wasn’t getting any better. So, two stretched into three, three into four.

 

It’d been a month and a half.

 

Luz had tried to keep tabs on Amity’s condition, but neither her mother or Eda would tell her much. It was a sensitive topic, something that much better left alone, for Luz’s own sanity probably.

 

But now… 

 

“She’s up?”

 

“Yes, mija.”

 

She hadn’t seen Amity in a month and a half, too much of a coward to even step foot into her room. She didn’t know how the now fallen archangel was faring, didn’t know what her emotional state was like, didn’t even know if her sanity was intact.

 

She’s up. Which means she’s better. 

 

It’s a good thing.

 

But Luz wasn’t happy, overjoyed and bouncing off the walls like she should’ve been. She was terrified.

 

She probably still hates me. She probably can’t even stand to look me in the eyes.

 

“Luz… they’re waiting.”

 

The words left unspoken rang out as clear as the rest.

 

“Amity’s waiting.”

 

Camila was watching her digest the information with a semi-concerned look on her face. There was tenderness in her mother’s eyes, a fair amount of melancholy and sympathy, but no pity. The older angel didn’t pity people, not even Luz.

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, standing.

 

“Okay.”

 

~~~

 

The living room was as silent as a funeral procession.

 

All of them sat in different places on assorted pieces of mismatched furniture. Willow and Gus reclined on a pair of wicker lawn chairs, while the twins and Viney were curled up on the sofa, Emira leaning into the angel’s side. King had moved his ‘throne’ from the dining room, placed next to Eda’s leather armchair. Camila and Luz lounged on a few puffy pillows spread across the floor.

 

Her heart stuttered, stumbling over itself a few times when she spotted Amity.

 

The fallen archangel was seated on a tall, spindly stool, feet barely brushing against the carpet. Her eyes were firmly fixed on Eda, deliberately ignoring the side of the room where Luz sat. When her heart finally slowed down, it sunk to the bottom of her stomach.

 

It would’ve hurt less if Amity had slapped her across the face.

 

Yet… she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the fallen archangel.

 

Her hair had grown out, ginger roots showing through the limp, faded-out green strands. Amity’s hands were wrung together, and every so often her fingers would twitch slightly. She looked underweight, so, so small without those imposing white wings. 

 

What really scared Luz was the almost haunted emptiness in her golden eyes, weary lines and dark circles newly drawn on the fallen archangel’s face. She looked older, not in a good way, a heaviness resting on her shoulders.

 

What happened to you?

 

A sick feeling in her gut told Luz the answer.

 

Me. 

 

From her armchair, Eda cleared her throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Everyone turned their eyes towards the woman.

 

“Belos is dead.”

 

Nearly everyone let out a small gasp, shock apparent on all of their faces.

 

Well, she was never one for sugarcoating things.

 

“We’re not sure how long he’s been dead, but the news came in a few days ago.”

 

Eda scoffs a bit.

 

“Good riddance.”

 

Will and Gus exchange a little glance, something in their gaze that she can’t identify. Her mother stiffens, eyeing Eda with distrust, and little mutters break out across the room. 

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

The voice is Viney’s, face twisted into a scowl when Luz looks over. Eda sighs, crossing her legs and running a fingernail up and down the seam of her chair.

 

“Belos wasn’t a good archangel. He wasn’t this heroic figure to be worshipped and adored. He was a cruel, vile, murderer, and his death was a long time coming.”

 

It’s dead silent.

 

“Everyone believed that he was immortal, too pure of heart and soul to die, but the truth is more sinister. Belos would take the souls of other archangels, and use them to increase his lifespan. At least, that's what I believe.”

 

Luz and Camila share a glance.

 

“It’s how I lost my wings. I used to be an archangel, attending these large, extravagant parties that Belos would sometimes come to. I witnessed him taking another archangel’s soul at one of these events, and so I turned to my sister, begging for her to help me expose this. She, always the rule follower, turned me in.”

 

“Belos cut off my wings, throwing me down to Earth.”

 

Murmurs broke out again, Edric and Emira looking especially bothered by this news. She watched Viney wrap an arm around Emira, rubbing comforting circles with her thumb on the archangel’s shoulder. It made her heart pang, to see them so close together and supporting each other.

 

Unconsciously, her eyes shifted to Amity.

 

The fallen archangel’s fingers were still shaking, even worse than before. It made her feel sick to see Amity like this, broken and battered, trembling because of her. It made Luz want to throw herself onto her knees, letting out apologies and beg just for the fallen archangel to look at her.

 

I’m sorry!

 

I’m so, so very sorry… 

 

“That’s not why I wanted to have this meeting, however. I wanted to have it… to explain all my actions, I suppose. I know how you all distrust me, still, and I can’t blame you for that. I’ve not been the most straightforward hostess.”

 

Eda smiles, though it's rather bitter and humorless.

 

“When Luz showed up here for her second mission, King and I were already on edge. No one had taken an interest before in this shit hole of a town, and we were worried that it was part of an effort by Belos to track us down. We went to the bar every night, waiting for the angels to return. When we spotted you three return, and Luz separate from the rest, we figured that it was a better time than any to get some information. So, King took her.”

 

Her mother clenched her hands, wearing a displeased expression. Luz rested a hand on her shoulder, reassuring the older angel a bit.

 

“Luz, the stubborn angel she is, wouldn’t tell us anything, until we offered something in return. Answers about her kind, other half-breeds; answers about demons, things that no one else would be willing to tell her. We used her curiosity against her, and for that Luz, I am so, so sorry. My selfish desires ruined your life, the lives of everyone you loved and cared about.”

 

She felt numb. Everyone was staring at her with wide eyes, but she only saw Amity, small form trembling, golden eyes wild and looking at everything but her.

 

“I used her curiosity to get information about the Isles, anything useful towards my longest goal of dethroning Belos. Over the months, I was working on a way to get to the Isles, and I stumbled across an old tome that held long forgotten spells. One of them was on how to craft waystones, relics used to connect two places. King and I were overjoyed, and slaved over long hours to build not one, but two of these very complicated magical artifacts.”

 

“After several long, tiring weeks, the waystones were completed. We sent one to Luz, to place near Belos’s castle. Our original plan was to sneak into the palace, using the information that she’d given us to help navigate it, and kill Belos. We would’ve been gone before anyone noticed.”

 

All of them sat still, enraptured by Eda’s tale.

 

“In celebration of our success, King and I went to the bar and got wasted, apparently spilling our plan in our drunken state. The demons there were hungry for information, riled up from months without conflict, and we were just happy to be noticed, appreciated.”

 

Eda pauses, face etched with regret. King is silent, almost ashamed besides the woman.

 

“When we woke up on the floor here, all of our notes and the waystones were gone. That was the morning of the invasion.”

 

It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for someone else to break the silence, the tension that had descended over the room. Most of them wore scowls, anger and distress burning in their eyes. Her mother, surprisingly, was the only one that seemed calm, and she eventually spoke up.

 

“What about the wings? How did the demons get those shadow wings?”

 

Eda runs a hand through her hair.

 

“Oh, that? That was the easiest part of the whole thing. Luz left behind a feather, and from there, it was easy enough to make a transformation spell. The magic was corrupted by the demons however, leading to the shadow-like ones you saw, tainted black with malice.”

 

It felt… heavy.

 

The atmosphere felt thick, as if the air had turned to honey, drowning and choking all words that might’ve been said. 

 

All of this was my fault.

 

Luz could barely stand being in the same room as everyone else. Especially Amity. After all the months, all the little moments they had shared, all the lies, she couldn’t quite believe that the fallen archangel was hearing the truth that had been eating Luz alive all this time. All the guilt was finally bubbling up, and she let out a small, choked sob.

 

At the sound, Amity finally looked at Luz, only for a moment. 

 

It was enough.

 

Those frozen over, ice cold golden eyes held more than words could ever say. They told a long tale of betrayal, heartbreak, distrust, tragedy. Pain and suffering. There was nothing warm, no fire or even glowing coals left in Amity’s eyes when the fallen archangel looked at her. 

 

There was nothing even close to love left.

 

Her own heart snapped.

 

A loud slam came from the back door, causing everyone to jump out of their skins. They all tensed, waiting for a horde of demons to burst into the living room, to finally finish the job they started a month ago. All that greeted them was a voice, high pitched yet also rough, growing closer with the person’s footsteps.

 

“Eda! Dad’s higher than a kite again so I’m crashing here for a couple days.”

 

Footsteps round the corner, and a girl now stands in the entrance to the living room. 

 

The newcomer and the rest of them stare at one another. 

 

The girl has dyed pink hair, dark clothes torn in several places, whether artfully or by accident, Luz can’t tell. She wears a scowl on her face as she stares at them, and Luz finally notices the extra sky blue eye on her forehead, furrowed in confusion. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, exposing pointed ears, just like an angel’s.

 

Eda turns in her armchair and takes a look at the girl, letting out a weary sigh when she sees who it is. The girl just seems incredulous after the initial shock has worn off.

 

“Really?! I thought I was the only stray you took in. Now you’re providing a place for angels?”

 

The woman rubs her temples in aggravation.

 

“Boscha, you have the worst timing.”

 

The girl- Boscha- grins.

 

“I suppose the house is full then? Doesn’t matter, I’ll just sleep in the backyard.”

 

She moves towards the sliding door that leads outside. The girl? Demon? Whatever she is, pulls the door open and lingers there, scanning three mistrustful blue eyes across the room. 

 

“I won’t say anything, but secrets don’t keep well around here, Eda. You and I both know that.”

 

Boscha steps outside and slides the door shut with unnecessary force. Eda merely rests her head in her hands, letting out a loud groan.

 

“That’s a conversation for another day. Right now, I need a glass of wine.”

 

Notes:

Eda: In conclusion, I'm an asshole

Everyone: *internal screaming* oh no

Boscha: *bursting in Kool Aid man style* OH YEAH

Eda: -__-

 

hehe I'm not funny

 

ALSO, I and a few other TOH writers have made a discord server! It’s open to everyone who wants to join, get to know new people, talk about TOH + other fandoms, get recommendations for fics, etc.

Link: https://discord.gg/6ud4TMc445

(Yes I also put this on the first chapter but double whammy)

Chapter 4: These misguided sentiments I still have for you

Notes:

"Me during all the current chapters: *Curl up on the floor, try not to cry, fucking **S O B***
This Angst is KILLING ME PLEASE SPARE US T-T
My poor broken-hearted lumity babies don't deserve dis p a i n >:'(
Also finally Boscha has arrived i was wondering when our favorite fidget-spinner-eyed, red-headed demon child would show up XD"

- WolfMageHailey

You know how I said that this series would be less angsty than Ghost of You? Yeah, I lied. And no, they don't deserve to be tortured like this, but the fluff is always sweeter after angst. Also, Boscha is 100% a feral child in this fic, and it's literally the only comic relief y'all are gonna get besides Ed and Em, and maybe Eda.

 

ALSO also, song for this chapter is In A Sentimental Mood by Ella Fitzgerald, because it's Gay Yearning in a song >__<

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaON77y1cL4

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

That was… harder than it needed to be.

 

She was still so alive, even after all these weeks, despite the things that might’ve worn her into something unrecognizable. Amity knew that in comparison, she looked like death warmed over, an empty husk of her former self. 

 

The two of them now shared the same purple bruise-like shadows under their eyes, at least.

 

It felt like a small victory, a point in her favor, to see some evidence of suffering in Luz’s eyes. A victory not fairly won, but a victory nonetheless. If everything now felt like a loss, was it wrong to consider someone else’s pain as a win?

 

Of course, there was that annoying little voice buzzing around in her head, whispering doubts, causing her resolve to not care anymore waver.

 

But Amity, don’t you remember when you said you’d never be the one to hurt her?

 

Don’t you think that this hurts her?

 

“Why does it matter if she’s the one hurting, when she left me like this!?”

 

The words slipped out of her mouth, an outburst that seemed to leave a wake of silence in its midst. The room felt colder, quieter. 

 

Why did it matter? It was a promise made to herself long before all this, an empty vow made to stave off some of the inadequacy she felt, a promise to feel for something again. Someone. It was a foolish thing Amity had declared, if only so she could walk into the sunlight without feeling it’s burn. 

 

But, burn it had, regardless of any vows she’d made. What did she expect, of course the flames would turn her heart to ash if she held it on a stake over an open fire.

 

Promises are better kept broken, anyway.

 

Seeing her again had hurt, violently, a hungry flame looking for anything to burn inside of her chest. Seeing her still alive, still healthy, still functioning as someone should, had hurt more than she could ever describe. How was it fair, that she could still be whole, while Amity was nothing more than a few broken shards of glass lying on the floor?

 

Why did Lu- she get to still live, whole, while Amity felt like her life was only suffering prolonged?

 

Why did it end up like this?

 

In a fair world, in a world where she could be selfish and have things her way, the angel should be the one suffering, the one who had to deal with this. Having no wings, no pride, no soul, no reason to carry on. It was only the fair price to pay for having done this to Amity, to everyone.

 

… Do you really believe that?

 

Would you really give Luz your pain, when you only wanted to protect her from it before?

 

Amity winced at her subconscious’s use of the name, something that she would much rather forget. Forgetting things seemed to be just as daunting of a task as forgiving them nowadays.

 

She recalled something that Viney had once told her, when the older angel was trying to teach her a human card game. Amity had just put all her chips in the ‘pot’, confident in her hand for the first time that night. Viney leaned backwards in her chair, matching her bet, but not putting all her chips in. They’d both lain their cards down, Amity groaning and the angel merely grinning when she had the winning hand.

 

“Well Blight, you had a good hand, I’ll give you that. Not good enough to warrant going all in, but a good hand nonetheless.”

 

She’d scoffed, saying something about Viney telling her to take more risks.

 

“True, but you should never put all your chips in one pot unless you’re absolutely sure. Good life lesson there, not just for poker.”

 

Amity hadn’t understood what the angel had been trying to tell her then.

 

She did now.

 

She’d taken all the things that made her happy, and made them about her. Training in the gym, once a way to clear her head, turned into sparring practice with her. Taking a flight around the Isles had turned into playing sky tag with her, like a couple of children. Curling up on the couch with a good book turned into Amity cuddling with her in front of the fireplace, while she made that hot chocolate the archangel loved, occasionally kissing Amity on the forehead.

 

All of her happiness had turned into her. She had become Amity’s happiness.

 

Unconsciously, the fallen archangel had put all her chips in one pot, confident that she had the winning hand for once in her life. Then fate had turned against her. 

 

Now, there was nothing left to gamble.

 

Amity couldn’t even love the things that once brought her joy, for all of it was intermixed with pleasant and warm feelings of the angel. She had nothing left, and no energy to find something new.

 

She’d lost.

 

If she was back at home, surrounded by all the photos that they’d taken together, Amity would’ve thrown them to the floor and crushed them beneath her heel. Then, she would’ve burned the remnants.

 

Now, there were no physical reminders of their time spent together, only the pain in Lu- her eyes when she’d looked at the fallen archangel. A pleading sort of thing, perhaps for forgiveness, or a silent wish to stop the agony and nightmares.

 

That small thing, that small bit of suffering; yes, it was a victory to her.

 

At the very least, she wasn’t alone in her misery.

 

~~~

 

Luz’s POV

 

This was an awful idea, really.

 

She held a plate of food in her hands, lingering in the hallway just a few feet from Amity’s door. The plate was hot, burning her hands from being fresh out of the microwave, but the sensation was a welcome distraction from the turmoil raging inside of her chest. 

 

Luz went over the plan again.

 

She would drop the food off, maybe say something if the fallen archangel actually accepted it. Try to get Amity to look her in the eyes.

 

It wasn’t a very good plan, to say the least. But she had to try.

 

Luz couldn’t keep living like this, afraid of her mistakes to the point where the two of them couldn’t be in a room together for longer than fifteen minutes. 

 

Just give her the food, and leave.

 

One step at a time.

 

Mustering every last bit of her courage, she stepped towards Amity’s room, knocking her free hand on the doorframe. The fallen archangel didn’t look up, still staring out the window with her shoulders hunched over. Her room was clean, but coldly impersonal, nothing that might distinguish it from any one else’s present.

 

“I don’t want anything, Eda.”

 

Amity’s tone was flat, monotone, as empty as the space she lived in.

 

“It’s not Eda.”

 

Her heart thudded erratically as the fallen archangel turned around, skipping beats every now and again. Amity’s eyes didn’t widen with shock, nor did her face betray anything, features kept purposefully blank. The only thing that gave her away was the sudden shaking of her fingers, which she quickly twisted into her blanket.

 

Luz swallowed, holding the food out slightly.

 

“I brought you dinner.”

 

The fallen archangel’s golden eyes were so cold, just like they used to be.

 

“I don’t want anything to eat.”

 

The first words Amity had spoken to her in over a month and a half were filled with a kind of quiet fury, measured and even, but Luz could hear the hidden rage.

 

It scared her.

 

“Amity-”

 

She could see teeth clenched behind pursed lips, Amity’s face finally betraying emotion.

 

“Do not speak to me like that. Don’t talk to me like, like-”

 

“Like I still care about you?”

 

Luz watched as the fallen archangel’s anger finally bubbled over, all the bitterness, hatred, blind rage leaking out as she stood. Cords of muscle stood out in Amity’s arms when she clenched her fists, little scars whitening on her knuckles.

 

“Take your food and leave. I don’t want to see you, or speak to you unless I have to.”

 

She felt something sink lower into her stomach, a knot of emotions stuck in her throat as she tried to speak. Guilt? Anger? Concern, or even residual love still left over? It was a confusing blend, only further choking her as Amity moved towards the door.

 

Luz stood stubbornly, clutching the plate tightly for fear that she would drop it.

 

“You need to eat something.”

 

The fallen archangel stopped, a mere hair’s breadth away from her. From this distance, Luz could see that her whole body was shaking. Whether it was from rage or something else, she couldn’t tell. Amity’s eyes were rimmed with red, making the gold of her irises stand out even brighter, filled with that same quiet fury as her voice.

 

When she spoke, it was soft, but not gentle.

 

“I don’t want your food. I don’t want your care, or your compassion, or your pity. I want nothing from you. I don’t want you to speak to me, or even look at me. We’re done.”

 

Amity placed a hand on her chest, pushing Luz backwards and out of the doorway.

 

“It’s over, Luz.”

 

Then, she slammed the door in her face.  

 

Notes:

Alternatively-

Amity: *goes to push Luz out the door but stops*

Luz: ... Amity

Amity: shut up, I might be furious at you but I'm still gay

Luz: ...

Amity: a b s

Luz: ...

 

hdsghaghfghlsahsdhggj why is that so funny in my head

Chapter 5: Rebirth

Notes:

"I did something similar to @cymki, where I was excited to see the previous story was completed before falling into this one. No pun intended. I'm hooked though. You've managed to get me to diverge from blindly shipping Luz and Amity. I'm fuming at what Luz did, to her friends, her family, and her home. Amity is entirely in her right to feel livid at Luz, she was _maimed_ , lied to, and an involuntary accomplice to a coup; that fucks with you.

While Luz may have gone along with Eda's terrorism plot for the "right" reasons, she never gave Amity any agency in whether or not to participate. Luz was too oblivious to piece together her best friend's feelings for her, so I guess we can't fault her for failing to apply logic in helping Eda. It doesn't make it right though, and I hope Luz goes through some growth in this story. She's really fucked up, and Amity deserved better. All of Luz's friends and family deserved better. Ugh, Jeez, I'm so invested.

Great story, I'm really loving what you've done so far. I came in for lumity, but now I'm not so sure Luz deserves Amity. And that's a testament to your writing skills. Kudos!"

- shyan

I really, really love comments like this, and let me tell y'all why. First of all, it means that people care enough about my story to try to find the deeper meaning, and that means a lot to me as a writer. Secondly, I love the fact that people are getting why I can't just let Luz and Amity try and rebuild their relationship right away. Amity already had trust issues before Luz, and finally giving her heart up only to have it broken really fucks with a person (I can speak from experience), so she's not going to love Luz again for a very long time. And Luz... she's a naive kid who wasn't ready for the world yet. The two of them need to grow seperately before they can think about learning to be with each other again.

Ok yeesh that was heavy

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Willow’s POV

 

Dirt clung to her fingers and her clothes, to the small trowel she was using to upturn the hard earth. Small plastic containers with potted flowers stood nearby, patiently waiting to be planted, petals heavy with condensed mist and morning dew. 

 

It was quite peaceful this early, a soft gray fog curling through the trees that had yet to burn off with the morning sun. The forest was still, birds not yet awake to sing their melodies.

 

Willow loved the birds almost as much as she loved flowers.

 

Back on the Isles, they didn’t have birds, or any other animals for that matter. Only flora, but even that was limited to specific trees and bushes that grew naturally on the Isles. She often had her dads bring home new flowers and other plants from Earth when they came back from missions, to grow in the greenhouse.

 

But the birds, they were probably the thing Willow loved most about Earth. Their feathers were such bright colors; blues, reds, even the many shades of brown and grey and black that she loved equally. 

 

They reminded her of the multicolors of angel wings, one pair never quite the same as another. 

 

Willow had seen a flock of starlings one afternoon, the name she’d later learned from Eda, and was absolutely mesmerized by their obsidian black feathers. She had glanced back at her own wings, extending them, noting how the color was very nearly the same as hers.

 

Then again, she didn’t just enjoy the birds, but the squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and whatever else came creeping out of the woods to greet their newest neighbors.

 

Maybe she wasn’t just in love with plants, but wildlife in general.

 

New flecks of earth splattered her forearms as she dug her trowel into the dirt again, loosening the soil. Gardening was always something soothing to her, a chance to get away from the dramas of life, from the chaos and the noise-

 

A loud snore coming from her right shocked Willow out of her head.

 

Right… almost completely peaceful and alone.

 

The demon girl, Boscha if she remembered correctly, was stretched out beneath one of the nearby pines, head propped on a rock. It looked rather uncomfortable, sleeping like that on the cold ground, but she’d been out like a light ever since Willow had woken up.

 

Granted, it was still very early. 

 

She rocked back on her heels, sitting back on the ground from her previous squatting position, eyes shifting towards Boscha. 

 

Her pink hair was falling out of its bun, most of it now escaped than held in the hair tie. Her clothes were dirty, perhaps from rolling around on the ground, and crumpled. Her boots were splattered with mud.

 

Messy.

 

Willow didn’t know much about the demon, their first semi-meeting yesterday afternoon having been brief and impersonal. But if she had to pick a word to describe Boscha, she would choose messy. Or rough.

 

She returned to taking out her frustrations on the dirt, the girl still fast asleep. 

 

A beam of sunlight illuminated the ground in front of her as she worked, finishing the last of the tilling and removing roots and rocks. Today, she would be planting the white daffodils that Eda had picked up for her at some place called Home Depot. 

 

Humans have… strange names for things.

 

The flowers were still budding, only a couple blooms fully emerged. Willow liked them better that way, she could watch them grow and bloom herself. The daffodils’ petals were nearly translucent as the sun hit them, delicate and fragile.

 

Rebirth.

 

That’s what the flowers symbolized, and heaven knows they all needed it. 

 

Somewhere in the trees, a robin started singing, the first one of the day. Willow smiled at the familiar sound, new energy filling her limbs. She reached for one of the daffodils, pulling it from its container, gently setting the flowers into the hole she’d just dug. This bit couldn’t be rushed, as the roots needed to be covered with just the right amount of potting soil-

 

“Hey, Flowers, isn’t it a bit early to be gardening?”

 

A voice, rough and heavy with sleep, sounded from her right. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Willow set the daffodil down and turned towards the demon.

 

Boscha was rubbing her eyes, the one on her forehead blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus in on the angel. She felt a small scowl appear on her face at the nickname.

 

“It’s Willow.”

 

The pink-haired girl fully sat up, stretching her arms up and leaning against the pine. She grinned at Willow, a crooked little thing that the angel didn’t fully trust.

 

“What, your parents didn’t think you looked like an Ivy or a Lily, so they settled for Willow? Fitting name, I guess.”

 

Boscha gestured towards the flowers.

 

She crossed her arms, looking the demon dead in her sky blue eyes. The eyebrow above the uppermost eye raised, and the girl merely let out a yawn. 

 

“If I remember correctly, your name is Boscha? Interesting choice.”

 

Willow hadn’t meant it in a particularly nice way, but the demon girl only smirked and studied her fingernails, apparently little offense taken.

 

“It’s demonic; but believe me, I once met a chick named Htebazile, so it’s not the most unique one out there.”

 

She hummed, and picked up the daffodils again, turning her back towards Boscha. The petals looked more vibrant than before, as if they were soaking up the sun and relishing the warmth. It would be a perfect morning if the present company had picked another tree to rest under.

 

  Please go back to sleep.

 

It wasn’t that Boscha’s company was unpleasant… but Willow wanted peace and quiet, and… it wouldn't be a bad thing if she never saw another demon for the rest of her life. 

 

But here one was, with an extra eye to remind her of it as well. 

 

“What’s the damn point of this anyway? Can’t you just use fancy miracles to grow your flowers instead of waking up at hellish times to do this?

 

She sighed.

 

“The point of this is that it’s soothing for me. And, using miracles to grow things seems to defeat the purpose of that.”

 

Willow set the daffodil she was holding into the hole, covering the roots with a small amount of soil, when the crackling of leaves caused her to pause a little. Her hands slowed their movements as the sound of footsteps approached stopping just a few feet away. She glanced up to find Boscha leaning against the side of the house, wearing her hair down and a scowl.

 

“So, you’d just do things by hand because you’re too good to use your magic.”

 

The demon sounded bitter, and the tone piqued Willow’s curiosity just a bit.

 

“No… I’m not too good to use miracles.”

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes a slight bit at the angel.

 

“Don’t demons have magic anyway?”

 

Boscha pursed her lips, letting the scowl drop from her face and morph into a tired-looking expression. 

 

“Nothing useful.”

 

Willow studied the girl carefully, noting the way her tone suddenly lost its teasing lilt, blue eyes dimming ever so slightly as her face became guarded.

 

“Nothing good, I should say. My magic is pretty useful for setting my dad’s drug stashes on fire.”

 

A sudden silence cut through the mist and chill of the morning air. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Why? You don’t know me.”

 

Why am I apologizing to her? It’s not my place to get involved with a demon’s family life.

 

She ran a thumb over the small petals, little pieces of satin brushing against her fingertip. Boscha’s strikingly blue eyes caught her gaze once more, a certain sternness in them as opposed to the carefree teasing before. Willow felt a throb of something inside of her when she looked at the demon, perhaps discomfort.

 

“Stop staring at me like that.”

 

Almost ashamed, Willow glanced away.

 

“I don’t know what my kind did to you or your friends, but I think you’ll find that I have a bit more humanity than most of ‘em.”

 

Boscha pushed herself away from the wall, looking down at the daffodils Willow had yet to plant, furrowing her eyebrows.

 

“I’d keep me away from your plants if I was you, Flowers. I’m no gardener, but something tells me that fire and daisies don’t mix well.”

 

The girl yawned again, giving Willow a second’s glimpse at pointy white fangs, just like hers, before turning on her heel and walking away with hands shoved into her coat pockets.

 

She watched Boscha go for a moment, before turning back to the flowers and jabbing her trowel into the dirt.

 

“They’re daffodils, demon.”

 

Of course, the girl didn’t hear her.

Notes:

Willow: *innocently gardening*

Boscha: hEy fLoWeRs, yeah you, you're a selfish asshole for not using miracles to grow your plants!!11!1

Willow: girl, I barely know you and I'm already tired of your shit

Boscha: fuck you, all I'm good for is committing arson >__<

Willow: ...

 

hello yes Willow pov time because I need to give the Amity and Luz spare chapters to get some of their marbles back in the bag -__-

Chapter 6: The adults are done with everyone’s bullshit

Notes:

“I’m with Boscha on this one if someone wakes me up that early I’d commit arson too”

-YMIhere

Please no one ever wake me before 12 on a weekend, will murder you 😌

Merry valentines y’all... you may have some therapy... as a treat

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

“Get up.”

 

Someone yanked the covers off of her bed, and Amity shivered, blinking the sleep out of her eyes in an attempt to focus in on the person who’d woken her up. As her vision cleared, she found Eda standing over her bed, hands on her hips and wearing a scowl. She squinted, letting out a yawn.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

The woman nudged the side of the bed with her knee, clearly expecting Amity to get up now.

 

“You and I are going to spend some quality time together. No more lazing around, no more moping, no more brooding over Luz.”

 

She grit her teeth, rolling over to face away from Eda, who in response yanked the pillow out from under her head. Amity let out an indignant cry, sitting up and rubbing the side of her head ruefully where it had slammed into her mattress. She fixed the fallen archangel with a glare, and the woman glared right back, tapping her bunny slipper covered foot impatiently. 

 

“You had a right to lay in bed all day when you had open wounds across your back. Now that they’ve healed, I’m expecting you to pull your weight.”

 

Eda held her hand out, face softening ever so slightly.

 

“Trust me kid, I’m doing you a favor. The first few months are always the roughest.”

 

Begrudgingly, she took the woman’s offered hand, cracking her neck as she stood.

 

The sun was barely in the sky, a sort of permanent gray haze settled over everything that she could see. As far as Amity could tell, no one else awake besides the two of them. She breathed a small sigh of relief when they stepped out of her room and found everyone asleep in the living room; Ed on the pullout couch, Em and Viney on an air mattress. No one woke as they quietly made their way through the house.

 

No chance of running into her. That’s good… I suppose.

 

Eda led her outside, and she faltered a little upon seeing Willow already up and gardening, planting flowers with an unusually tight expression on her face. Amity didn’t say a word, but the angel looked up briefly when Eda gave her a wave.

 

“Morning, Plant Girl. Up early again I see?”

 

Willow scowled, throwing her trowel down and standing, wiping off the flecks of dirt that covered her arms.

 

“What is with everyone calling me something else this morning? I have a name.”

 

The raven-haired angel stormed off, angrily brushing the earth off that still clung to her clothes on her way back inside. Eda merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged, continuing to lead Amity to wherever they were going.

 

“Wonder what wilted her flowers this morning.”

 

She didn’t say anything.

 

Eventually, the woman rounded the side of the shack, revealing a sort of open barn tacked on to the end of it. There were bales of hay, for some reason, pitchforks and shovels and other tools laying around. The area had no walls, only a large overhang with a red-tiled roof and several wooden beams that supported it. 

 

Eda stepped towards the side of the house that the roof hung off of, reaching behind a hay bale and pulling out two sticks. Upon further inspection, as the fallen archangel held one out to her, Amity realized that they were wooden swords; not unlike the ones she used to train with as a child. The sight brought a wave of nostalgia flooding through her chest.

 

“Take it.”

 

Hesitantly, she accepted the sword.

 

A sudden quiet settled between them, a peace as soft and lazy as the curling fog. 

 

“So, kiddo, don’t you want to know why I dragged you out here?”

 

Amity pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, hoping to appear disinterested.

 

“I have a feeling you’ll tell me even if I say no.”

 

Eda laughed, a sudden booming thing, dragging a long fingernail down the side of her own sword as she studied Amity. The woman gazed intently at her, and she resisted the urge to squirm; it felt like Eda was staring right into her soul.

 

“Tell me, on a good day, how many demons do you think you could hold back before they overwhelmed you?”

 

She freezes, looking up at the fellow fallen archangel with wide eyes. Memories plague her, flashes of the battle that seems so long ago now, her fighting to stay flying while demons bombard her from all directions. The screams that echo around her. The terror. The death.

 

Her voice, yelling Amity’s name with desperation.

 

“Kiddo?”

 

She snaps back to the present, absentmindedly picking at her fingernail.

 

“Maybe a hundred. Maybe more. I never had the chance to count.”

 

To her credit, her voice doesn't shake or waver, coming out as flippant. The woman still sees right through her, fixing Amity with a piercing yellow stare, her eyes a shade of gold not unlike the Blight family’s. 

 

“How many demons do you think are in this town alone?”

 

When she doesn't answer, Eda does for her.

 

“Thousands. Maybe less now that they’ve inhabited the Isles, but still thousands. What do you think will happen if they catch wind that all of you are hiding here?”

 

They’ll kill us. All of us.

 

Amity shivers, and the woman nods.

 

“You’re out of practice, and weak. I say you could take maybe ten demons now before they overpower you. That’s not very impressive against a thousand of them, kid.”

 

She doesn’t say a word, casting her eyes down to the straw-covered ground and lets Eda continue.

 

“So you can take ten demons. Your siblings aren’t fighters, so they can take maybe ten a piece as well. Gus is a scholar, and Willow gardens. Camila is a healer. Viney, sure, she’s probably the strongest out of all of us, so lets say she can handle a hundred demons at max. King is probably next, then me. And Luz… she still has a long way to go.”

 

“Do the math for me, Blight. It can’t be much more than two hundred demons that we could handle at once, and there are thousands.”

 

Amity grits her teeth, grip tightening around the wooden sword as the fallen archangel’s words only cause her spirits to drop further.

 

“What are you saying then? That it’s hopeless to even try? Why bother training me, if that’s what you want to do, if the end result is that we’d be overrun anyway?”

 

Eda smiles.

 

“I want to help you start living again.”

 

… What?

 

“You don’t have to kill a thousand demons.”

 

The woman steps forward, poking her softly in the chest with a single boney finger.

 

“You just have to kill the ones inside of you.”

 

~~~

 

Luz’s POV

 

“Get up, cariño.”

 

As she rolls towards the voice and rubs her eyes, Luz finds her mother standing at the door frame, arms crossed. The light streams through her blinds, illuminating the room with a soft morning glow. Cold air seeps through the window, and she wants nothing more than to stay in bed.

 

“Luz.”

 

Camila’s tone holds no room for argument, so she groans and removes the covers, shivering as the cold hits her skin.

 

“It’s early.”

 

“It’s almost ten.”

 

The thing is, Luz used to be a morning person, though the months have slowly worn away at her old habit of waking up at 7am sharp. With the nightmares waking her at ungodly hours, she finds herself sleeping later and later to compensate.

 

Definitely not because she doesn’t want to face the world.

 

Definitely not because she doesn’t want to face Amity.

 

“Another nightmare?”

 

“... Yes, Mami.”

 

Luz doesn’t know why her mother asks. The nightmares haven’t ceased in their intensity or their frequency since she got here; if anything, they’ve gotten worse. Last night was particularly awful, due to the fallen archangel’s outburst the day before.

 

“I want nothing to do with you.”

 

“I wish you had lost your wings instead of me. I wish you were dead.”

 

“Well, mija, today you’re going to get up and do something productive. No more moping around, no more laying in bed until late afternoon. You have to move on.”

 

She doesn’t want to move on. It was easier to wallow in self-pity, feeling sorry for herself and brooding silently under the blankets. It wasn’t easy to move on, because one doesn’t just move on from someone like Amity Blight. She couldn’t just forget and put behind herself the way she could make the archangel smile; all bright and brilliant, the special smile she gave no one else.

 

She couldn’t put behind herself how that smile made her feel, how the very depths of her heart warmed at the sight of it. 

 

She couldn’t put behind herself how it felt to love someone, so assuredly, no fear that anything could ever come between the two of them.

 

She missed loving Amity.

 

“Luz.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Camila sighed.

 

“Go outside. Say hi to Willow. Just talk to your friends, even for a short while. Get some fresh air.”

 

When Luz didn’t respond, her mother simply walked over to the bed and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. The older angel smiled, a small thing, filled with all the tenderness and care in the world. Her smile told Luz a thousand things.

 

I’m here.

 

I’m beside you.

 

It’s okay to take your time.

 

But you have to try for me, alright?

 

Feeling her throat well up with emotion, she swallowed thickly to get rid of the lump. She found that no words came, so Luz nodded, and her mother’s smile warmed just a little.

 

“I hear that the boys are building a small cabin, for extra space. Heaven knows we need it.”

 

Camila frowned, but she saw the corner of her mother’s mouth curve upwards with slight amusement.

 

“Eda keeps stealing my toothbrush.”

 

Somehow, Luz manages a small laugh, and the sound shocks both the older angel and her. It feels good to laugh. It feels good to have something to laugh about, even if it is just over her mother complaining about Eda.

 

Despite everything, she feels a smile creep onto her face.

 

It feels good to smile.

Notes:

Eda: you are a helpless, spineless loser

Amity: ... is this supposed to make me feel better?

Camila: Luz... sweetie, I’m going to smack you with my shoe if you don’t get out of bed

Luz: ok mom

 

Look! These bitches gettin therapy! Good for them.

Chapter 7: Forgiveness

Notes:

“You always have the best endnotes, lmao.

I FUCKING LOVE EDA AND AMITY BONDING!!!!!! YESSS GIMME MORE!!!! Also I really appreciate the line Eda had about Amity killing her inner demons.

I also like Camila finally pulling Luz out of bed to go do something/start to heal. I wonder if she's gonna teach her more healing magic? I can see her helping to build the cabin because imo Willow would prefer to garden alone/have some peace and quiet (which has now been jeopardized by Boscha lmao).

Thanks for writing!”

- hyacinth (Lexa_Alycia)

 

EDA! AMITY! BONDING! SUPREMACY! While I can’t spoil anything (mainly because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing lmfao), Luz is absolutely going to help build the cabin... take that how you will....

 

ALSO hello y’all, I wanted to post this chapter awhile ago, but Texas said “fuck you, I’m going to have a winter storm that steals your WiFi”, so I just now got internet back

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV 

 

“Reports are coming in about a multi-car pileup on I-35, up to about seventy five cars involved in the crash. Despite this horrific accident, it’s not even the first one this week; there was another hundred car pileup on I-35, barely even twenty miles from-”

 

Click.

 

“-the worst part, we’re facing an unprecedentedly cold winter this year, temperatures ranging from the low thirties to negative twenty all across the country-”

 

Click.

 

“Storms continue to blow in from up north, bringing heavy snow and sleet. Prepare yourselves in case of an emergency, with extra food, bottled water-”

 

Click.

 

“-best efforts to provide a vaccine, the pandemic continues to claim thousands of lives each day, hospitals filled now with COVID patients and those fighting to stay out of the cold.”

 

Click.

 

“God has abandoned us for our sins! He sends a plague to sweep across the land, now a winter storm to make us repent! Where are the angels, our messengers from Heaven? They have abandoned us, along with our good morals and our faith! They have left us, to fend for-”

 

Luz presses the power button, and the TV flickers off, image of an angry preacher turning dark. 

 

She can see why Eda never watches the news. It only aims to stir up people, to get them agitated and anxious about all the bad things that are happening.

 

She can’t deny that things have been steadily getting worse since they’ve been on Earth; it’s as if the mass genocide of her kind has set the world on fire. Or encase it in ice, if the news stations are to be believed about a particularly heavy winter, even as the days march towards April. Luz has never been particularly superstitious, but even she can tell that without the angels’ influence, humankind is sinking deeper and deeper into the dark.

 

The late afternoon sun winks at her, peeking out from behind a cloud.

 

Maybe Mami was right. I should go outside.

 

Dull, muffled thuds can be heard from her bedroom, and eventually Luz’s curiosity wins out, prompting her to step out of the room. Through the glass sliding doors in the living room, she can see pines trees falling, the source of the noise. 

 

What in the…?

 

She moves outside, only to find Gus, Viney, and Edric surrounded by fallen pines. Their stumps were neatly severed, not the product of an ax or a chainsaw; and her answer comes when Gus casts a miracle on the tree next to him, causing the trunk to immediately split at the base and slide sideways. He gracefully steps to the side as the pine falls, causing the ground to shake slightly.

 

Luz takes a cautious step towards the trio, not wanting to be hit by any errant trees.

 

Viney catches her eye and looks startled for a split second, before her face breaks into a beaming grin. She waves at Luz, beckoning her over. 

 

Well, so much for lurking around.

 

She walks towards them, trying to keep her head as high as possible.

 

Like you didn’t betray them.

 

Like you didn’t loose them their families.

 

What gives you the right to speak to them, after everything that you’ve done?

 

Luz doesn’t have the right, not really, but she can’t continue to pretend like everything is fine. Earth is in shambles, the Isles are overrun with demons, and most of it is her fault… but she misses her friends. She misses the company of others, as selfish as that is.

 

At least Viney looks happy to see her, ruffling her hair when she reaches the trio.

 

“Hiya there, squirt! How’s things been with you?”

 

Luz smiles, the older angel’s infectious energy causing the heaviness weighing her down to lighten just a little.

 

“It’s been.”

 

She laughs, fishhook earring gleaming in the setting sun. The two boys are making their way over, smiles a bit quieter and reserved than Viney’s, but they still seem somewhat happy to see her.

 

“Fair enough. It’s not been the easiest couple of months.”

 

The older angel says this simply, without any bitterness or anger at their situation. She merely brightens her smile as Edric and Gus stand next to her, each murmuring their hello’s to Luz.

 

Their greetings are quieter, sadder, and she suddenly realizes why.

 

It’s not just that Viney has a more optimistic outlook on life, but the fact that she had less to lose when they left the Isles. The angel had told her a while ago that she didn’t have any family left; both her parents had died on a mission when she was little. Like her, Viney didn’t have that many friends to mourn leaving behind.

 

Edric had left behind his parents, but the loss wasn’t that heavy. The Blight siblings didn’t care much for their parents, from the bare minimum that they’d told her. No, what really was keeping Edric from looking Luz in the eyes was what she’d done to his sister. All the lying, all the heartbreak, all the pain that she’d put Amity through.

 

It’s a wonder that Ed hasn’t broken my nose yet.

 

If there was anything that Edric loved more than practical jokes and messing with people, it was his sisters. If anyone hurt them, he’d make sure they paid for it.

 

Gus had left his father behind on the Isles. He left behind his greatest passion of learning things, and all his other school friends. Besides that, he was the youngest out of all of them, still fifteen. Still a kid.

 

“Hi, Luz.”

 

She nodded at the younger angel, who was doing his best to give her a genuine smile.

 

“Hey, Gustus.”

 

Luz missed when the two of them would play discus in the park, while Willow watched on with amusement. She missed when things were simpler. Weekends would be spent in the sun, laughter ringing through whatever place they happened to be, as the three friends gave no thought to the greater workings of the world.

 

How easy things used to be.

 

She looked away from Gus, only to find Edric staring at her with a curious expression, something buried deep in his golden eyes.

 

“How’re you holding up there, Luz?”

 

The archangel sounded… flat. Serious.

 

That scared Luz a great deal.

 

If there was one thing Edric wasn’t, it was serious. He had an almost childlike nature, one that would suit someone several years younger, and one rarely saw him without a grin. The archangel wasn’t grinning now, his tone wasn’t joking like usual, yet his words weren’t unkind. He seemed… adultlike. All grown up and… serious.

 

It seemed paradoxical in a way; Ed and seriousness went against the laws of nature, like two similarly charged magnets being shoved together. 

 

She suspected that even with age, the archangel wouldn’t grow out of his jokes.

 

So it seemed… strange, to say the least, that his eyes weren’t glinting with their usual humor.

 

“I’m alright.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

Maybe he wanted Luz to say that she was suffering. Maybe he was waiting for that admission, that knowledge that she was paying penance for all the lies.

 

Though, just as Edric wasn’t a serious person, he wasn’t cruel either. She knew that he wouldn’t feel any joy to know that nightmares about his sister dying kept her up in early morning hours. 

 

When the archangel offered her a small smile, the tiniest bit of humor trickling back into his eyes as he nodded, Luz felt relief flood through her chest.

 

She didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that he’d forgiven her.

 

Thank you.

 

Viney clapped her hands together, startling the rest of them. She rested a hand on Edric’s shoulder while ruffling Gus’s hair, deaf to the younger angel’s indignant protests.

 

“Well boys, better get back to choppin’ down the rest of these trees, this cabin won’t build itself.”

 

Grumbling, the two of them turned and strode back into the forest.

 

Viney turned towards her and offered a sympathetic smile.

 

“Don’t take it personally, Ed’s been a bit of a funk lately. He seemed almost relieved when I asked him to help with the building, and the guy hates work. Guess he needed something to do to take his mind off things.”

 

Him and everyone else.

 

The older angel just rested a hand on her back, steering Luz away from the boys. She raised an eyebrow at Viney, who simply kept walking.

 

“Move your feet squirt, there’s something I want to show you.”

 

Begrudgingly, Luz followed her through the now sparse pines, fallen trees littering the ground besides them. A squirrel darted across the grass in front of the two, startled by a snapped twig beneath Viney’s boot, making a beeline for the nearest tree. Birds tittered around them.

 

She followed the older angel to a spot near the shack, and Luz eventually recognized it as the place where she sometimes saw Viney sitting from her bedroom window. 

 

Leaning down, she picked up something from the ground and turned, offering it to Luz. 

 

It was… a stick.

 

Well, more like a log, half a foot in diameter and stripped of its bark, revealing the pale wood beneath.

 

The older angel shook it at her slightly, gesturing for her to take it. Furrowing her eyebrows, Luz took the log, half expecting it to jump out of her hand and run away for all the care Viney treated it with. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, she only grew more puzzled.

 

“Viney… this is a stick.”

 

Viney gasped, looking almost indignant at the suggestion.

 

“This is no stick! This is the finest piece of carving wood in this forest!”

 

The older angel had a half-smile playing across her lips as she took the wood back, running her thumb along the side where it’d been severed from a tree. Her expression turned solemn as she studied the log, voice coming out quiet when she spoke again.

 

“I’ve been thinking… about the ways we like to distract ourselves after we’ve experienced trauma.”

 

Luz felt the frown slide off her face, but she still felt that same sense of confusion.

 

Where’s she going with this?

 

“When we first landed here, I was a wreck. It may not look like it now, but I felt like my head was spinning on my shoulders, I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. Not even being with Em, watching over her, could put me at ease. It just reminded me of what had happened.”

 

Leaves rustled in a sudden gust of wind, joining in with the birdsong to make a sort of quiet melody, soft and gentle.

 

“Back on the Isles, I’d whittle when I had the time, or I felt like making something tangible. Now, I had nothing but time, and a whole forest of material to work with.”

 

Viney seemed melancholy, a distant, far-away look in her eyes as she gazed up at the tree tops. 

 

“So, I spent my days carving, nicking my finger and cursing, wondering why I thought this was a good idea. Nevertheless, I carried on, not having anything better to do with the time. Slowly, it felt like my soul was settling back into my body. I started sleeping better. I started to relax, no longer jumping at the smallest noise.”

 

The older angel turned back towards her, holding the log out again. Luz accepted it without a second thought this time, running her fingers over the smooth and almost soft wood.

 

“What does this have to do with me?”

 

Humming, Viney dug her fingers into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out something small and silver. She flicked it open with a quick movement, revealing a polished blade, sharp and shining in the sunlight.

 

Handle first, she held it out to Luz.

 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly accept this-”

 

“Take it, squirt.”

 

Carefully, she grasped the pocketknife and studied its blade, silver gleaming brightly. She glanced up at Viney, who only seemed content, an easy smile resting on her lips.

 

“I’ll be too busy to be carving anymore, with the cabin needing building an all. Besides, I think… I think this’ll do you some good.”

 

Luz felt a lump in her throat, suddenly overcome with a wave of affection for her friend. She gently set the piece of wood and the knife down, wrapping her arms around the older angel. Viney seemed startled at first by the hug, but quickly returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly.

 

Not trusting herself to look Viney in the eyes for fear that she might start crying, her following words were mumbled into the angel’s shoulder.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Aww, squirt, you’re gonna make me choke up over here!”

 

Luz chuckled weakly, pulling away and half-heartedly punching her on the shoulder.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Notes:

“You better come take a look at this” cliche

*squints*

Things aren’t NEARLY gay enough for my liking, but don’t worry, all that will change shortly now that the babies have their therapy 😌

Chapter 8: Two girls, sitting on a rooftop...

Summary:

... five feet apart because they are most definitely gay, but for other people

Notes:

"Wonderfully done! I can finally stop screaming at my phone “GET. SOME. THERAPY.” at these absolute buffoons. Idiots. Imbeciles. I love them. I also hate them right now, but I love them. Luz screwed the pooch, yeah. She blames herself, valid. But these people are still ones you called friend, Luz. You’ve gotta talk to them. Nothing will change, nothing will improve if you just sit and wallow around. In fact, it just makes everything worse. Ugh.

Well done, and thank you for yet another wonderful chapter. 💜"

- the_stars_all_around_us

 

These angels gettin therapy! good for them! Luz definitely needs to rely on other people besides Amity, and vice versa, which is why Luz is bonding with Viney and Amity is bonding with Eda. good fun!

 

ah yes, Amity has enough mental stability to be gay again. good for her, good for her lmfao

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Two Weeks Later

 

Luz’s POV

 

Well, Viney certainly wasn’t wrong about the whole nicking fingers part of carving.

 

She’d accumulated several new scars on her fingers from the older angel’s pocket knife as she tried to learn how to properly carve with it. The process was painstaking and frustrating, Luz often swearing under her breath when the knife ended up slicing her skin instead of the wood. Her fingers were now covered with small, pinkish scars, along with the more recent cuts.

 

Currently, she was sucking the tip of her ring finger, a new cut running along the pad. It stung, but not unbearably so.

 

At least it distracted Luz from the pain in her heart.

 

She didn’t get why carving was so difficult. Even using pine wood, which was softer than oak or maple, the knife didn’t want to glide smoothly across the wood like it did when Viney was handling it. She’d tried to beg the older angel to teach her, but she’d just chuckled and waved Luz off.

 

“All part of the process, squirt! All part of the process.”

 

It was sort of hard to see the process when her material was stained with blood, sweat, and tears.

 

Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but not even the stupid piece of wood wanted to work with her. 

 

How am I supposed to heal if all this is doing is making me angry?

 

Luz set down the stick with a huff, still nursing her wounded finger. She leaned back against the tree behind her, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She could feel the breeze on her face, caressing the skin with cool fingers, bringing a slight reprieve from the harsh sun. It was an unusually warm day for early spring, so Luz welcomed the breeze.

 

Granted, it was still very nice outside.

 

She was glad not to be stuck in the house, to have at least something to do, however pointless it may be. Despite the weeks spent honing her wood carving skills, Luz had yet to have anything to show for it. All the little figures she tried to make looked awful, or had broken, or she’d just given up on them.

 

At least she was trying.

 

Heavens, even Amity is up and doing something useful. 

 

It was no secret that Eda had started training the fallen archangel again, not after she’d gotten curious about all the noise that the two were making. One afternoon, Luz had wandered around the side of the shack, trying to locate where the sound of wood smacking was coming from. 

 

Much to her surprise, she found Eda and Amity locked in combat, training swords smacking against each other as beads of sweat rolled down their faces. With a pounding heart, she’d rushed to hide around the corner before either of the two spotted her. Luz slowly walked back to her room, sitting heavily down on her bed as she tried to make sense of what she’d seen.

 

I guess I’m the only freeloader around here anymore.

 

I don’t even have an excuse to be sitting around! She lost her wings, her pride, her very existence, but she’s still trying to live.

 

All you lost was her.

 

The sound of leaves crunching nearby pulled Luz out of her thoughts, cracking open an eye to see Viney approaching her.

 

“Tired of carving yet?”

 

She pushed herself off the ground, brushing dirt and bits of dried leaves off of her pants.

 

“You could say that.”

 

The older angel laughed, leaning against a nearby pine. Luz noticed that she was soaked in sweat, and wearing a tool belt around her waist along with her two war hammers. Despite that, Viney had a somewhat satisfied expression on her face along with the tiredness, like how one would look if they just finished a particularly difficult task.

 

“Did you just bench press another tree? You look exhausted.”

 

The older angel adopted a wounded look.

 

“That was one time! I thought we agreed not to talk about it.”

 

“I will keep talking about it until you admit that you only did that to impress Emira.”

 

Viney rubbed her neck and cracked her back, letting out a small huff. Luz grinned, knowing that she’d won this time. She took the angel’s silence as a confession by itself.

 

“Ya know, I was going to ask you to help with the cabin, but I’m not sure I can stand your teasing right now.”

 

“My teasing?! That’s a little hypocritical coming from you!”

 

Despite the playful banter, Luz felt herself relaxing in Viney’s upbeat presence, teasing or no. The older angel was a near constant reminder that she wasn’t totally dead weight, that she was still appreciated as a friend. On the bad days, the knowledge helped her get out of bed.

 

“Well squirt, I hope you know how to use a hammer better than that pocket knife.”

 

“... What’s a hammer?”

 

“Oh, you have to be screwing with me.”

 

“Yes, Viney. I’m not that much of an idiot.”

 

“Debatable.”

 

“Hey!”

 

~~~

 

Amity’s POV

 

As her feet dangle over the edge of the roof, she thinks for the briefest moment that she’s developing a fear of heights.

 

Actually, fear isn’t the right word.

 

All her life, Amity was used to being able to leap from islands and the tops of buildings, her wings spreading open like almost second nature. Just the same as being able to bend her arm, or open and close her fingers.

 

She remembers something vividly; standing on the edge of an island as a child, toes hanging over the edge as she stared into the open sky below. Then, ever so slightly, she would lean forward, falling for just a few moments. She’d spread her wings, catching the breeze as she swooped through the sky, feeling the sense of absolute freedom.

 

Every time Amity would fall, there’d be no reason to fear; her wings would catch her.

 

Now, sitting on the edge of the rooftop, if she tried the same thing, she’d fall and break her neck. So, Amity was developing this certain… caution towards heights. 

 

A small fear of falling.

 

It could be almost funny. A fallen angel afraid of heights. 

 

But who was laughing? Certainly not Amity. Maybe the wind found it humorous, peals of light laughter blowing past her face, causing the mostly faded green stands of her hair to flutter. 

 

She exhaled, and the breeze exhaled with her. 

 

There’s no point in thinking about it.

 

Below her, Amity could see Gus and Edric still working on the new cabin, which was about halfway constructed at this point. The boys were lifting wooden planks, setting against the frame, then hammering them into place. She was still surprised that her brother was actually working, despite having seen him help with the building before.

 

Maybe this whole situation was doing him some good.

 

Viney reappeared from the trees, with… Luz in tow with her.

 

She grit her teeth and cast her eyes away, towards the horizon.

 

It still hurt.

 

A creaking from behind her caused Amity to whirl around, muscles tightening as a pink-haired head appeared over the top of the roof. The rest of the person’s body came into view as they ascended the ladder, revealing a semi-familiar face.

 

Boscha scowled when she spotted Amity, but stepped onto the roof anyway.

 

“You stole my place.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at the demon, who sat down next to her, albeit a few feet away.

 

“I didn’t know you owned the roof.”

 

Strangely enough, Boscha’s expression twisted into a smile, though it had an absence of warmth in it. Amity looked at her curiously.

 

“Well, don’t annoy me, and I might consider letting you stay up here.”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you also controlled how I live my life.”

 

If anything, the girl’s smile only widened into a cheshire-like grin, little bits of humor dancing in her three sky blue eyes. She only grew more confused at how the demon was finding this funny, and it annoyed her enough to pitch a small rock off the roof, somewhat wishing that it was Boscha.

 

Amity had seen her around often enough, mostly bothering Willow, or snoring excessively while Eda and her trained. She’d seen enough to not want to interact with the girl if possible.

 

“So, whatcha doin’ up here?”

 

She could ignore the demon, but she decided to play nice, speaking through gritted teeth. 

 

“Brooding.”

 

A howl of laughter erupted from the demon, which caused Amity to jump slightly at the sound, staring as Boscha doubled over. Her face warmed with discomfort as the pink-haired girl finally stopped cackling, leaning back up for air as she wiped imaginary tears from her eyes.

 

“I thought… you’d have a stick... up your ass, but you’re fucking hilarious!”

 

Amity just stared at her, deadpan, as the demon wheezed.

 

“Are you done?”

 

Boscha held up a finger, letting out one last chuckle before brushing strands of hair from her face.

 

“Thank you for providing a small bit of entertainment in my miserable life, archangel.”

 

Fallen archangel.

 

She didn’t bother correcting the girl, but did wonder for a second how she knew that Amity had been an archangel, rather than a regular angel.

 

“Glad I could be of service, demon.”

 

Things were quiet between them.

 

Below, she fixed her attention on the four angels building the cabin. The boys had made progress on the left wall, now using miracles to levitate the higher planks, where Viney and Luz hammered them into place. Somewhere along the way, Luz had lost her shirt, the angel now only clad in a tank top that was much too small. Her tool belt hung low on her hips, revealing a strip of skin where the tank failed to cover.

 

Suddenly, the heat in her face wasn’t just due to her annoyance at Boscha.

 

No.

 

You learned your damn lesson the first time. It doesn’t matter how good she looks, there will be no falling this time-

 

“So, what’re you brooding about?”

 

Amity jumped, letting out a huff, wondering if it wouldn’t be a better idea to just get off the roof.

 

“Will you leave me alone?!”

 

Boscha grinned again.

 

“Not a chance. You’re fun to rile up.”

 

When she didn’t respond, the demon followed her gaze towards Luz, and her smile widened. Amity felt a bit of panic flare in her chest at the expression.

 

“Is it about her?”

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Look what you’ve done now.

 

Boscha must’ve taken her silence for a yes, by the way her grin was replaced with an overly smug look.

 

“Crush?”

 

Fuck. 

 

“Get lost.”

 

“Nope! Ex-friend?”

 

She dragged a hand down her face, rubbing the space in between her eyes. Amity felt the beginnings of a headache.

 

“Friends, but now there’s weird tension?”

 

“No.”

 

“Estranged lover?”

 

“What? No!”

 

Boscha started laughing again while a throbbing formed behind her eyes.

 

“You know, she’s sort of cute. Not really my type, but if she means nothing to you, then I might give it a shot.”

 

Her fingernails scraped against the roof as she curled her hand into a fist, clenching her teeth as a strange blend of emotions flooded her chest. She wanted to sink her fist into Boscha’s teeth for even insinuating such a thing.

 

The idea of Luz being with someone else, especially the demon, made Amity feel sick to her stomach.

 

“What is wrong with you?”

 

Boscha’s face was suddenly wiped of its smirk, and her eyes grew cold.

 

“Probably the inherited archangel arrogance. I’m sure you know all about it.”

 

She suddenly felt like someone hand planted a fist in her gut, knocking all the wind out of her at the demon’s words.

 

“What’s what supposed to mean?”

 

The pink-haired girl turned towards her, a scowl resting just as easily on her face as the smirk did.

 

“Oh, didn’t I mention it? I’m not actually a demon. I’m half archangel, half demon.”

 

She was silent for a moment.

 

“A freak.”

 

But Luz isn’t a freak… so I guess that extends to you as well.

 

Boscha’s next words came out bitter, such a contrast to her earlier humor.

 

“My mom, the archangel half, gives birth to me and says “Oh, she’s hideous! Three eyes… what an abomination. Give her to her father!”. Or, that’s what I imagine, since she hung herself before I could ask. Couldn’t live with the knowledge that she had given birth to a bastard child apparently.”

 

The demon half-breed lifted her head upwards, yelling towards the sky.

 

“What’d you expected when you hooked up with a three eyed demon, you bitch!”

 

Amity was silent as Boscha suddenly stood, making her way back towards the ladder. The girl turned and faced her, wearing a slightly pained grin.

 

“You know, you’re not half bad company.”

 

She gave Amity a sloppy salute.

 

“Good luck with your angel.”

 

Then, the half-breed was gone.

 

Notes:

*Amity and Boscha getting piss drunk*

 

Amity: cheers to fucking awful parents!

Boscha: *hiccups* cheers i'll drink to that bro. at least one of mine is dead

Amity: mine probably both are at this point

Boscha: lucky bastard

 

Y'all have NO IDEA how much I love their dynamic in this fic

Chapter 9: Premonition

Summary:

Writing's not that easy, but Grammarly can help! This sentence IS grammatically correct but, its wordy and hard to read, it undermines the writer's message and the word choice is bland.

 

send help

Notes:

“Bruh I fucking love that dynamic too! I’ve spent a lot of time analyzing the characters in canon trying to plot out relationships for the fic I’m working on, and I’ve agonized about how Boscha and Amity would interact if their parents didn’t force them to be friends and they just bonded naturally, or if (for whatever reason) their parents were no longer a factor and they tried to build a new friendship. I’d love to see you explore it more as you continue to write this story!”

- Erritiguei1

I like Boscha’s potential character a lot; because even though she acts like a brat in the show, if you take away the influence of high society and her being spoiled (as I’ve done in this fic) you get someone more complex and not so bratty. Idk, maybe I just like Feral!Boscha lol

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

Tell me. 

 

Just how little do you care?



Tell.                     Me.



             Just. 

 

                                 How.   

     

                                                       Little. 

 

                                        You. 

 

                    Care.

 

About.



Me.



Tell me one more time so I can believe it.

 

Tell me.



You.    

 

                    Feel.

 

Nothing.



So I can rest easy and forget you.

 

Tell me how little you care.




Because I don’t believe you.

 

~~~

 

One Hour Earlier

 

There’s something in the air today.

 

Something flying, catching on the tip of leaves as they float to the ground. Something swirling with the breeze, soft and slightly chilly against the oncoming warmth of summer. When she opens her mouth to taste the air, it’s as sweet as maple syrup, thick and just slightly coating her tongue.

 

Something is different today.

 

Luz isn’t superstitious, she doesn’t have premonitions, or is even particularly good at oracle miracles like certain angels. But she knows, with a heaviness weighing in her chest, that something is going to happen today. 

 

She feels alert, awake as if someone splashed her with ice water, different from the usual day to day passing of hours that bring nothing new. 

 

Something, something is happening soon. 

 

Luz closes her eyes, sighing into the sunlight, letting the warmth wash over herself and bring a little clarity to this feeling. A few breaths later, her fingers stilling in their slight trembles, a small thing flits to the forefront of her mind. As quick as a bird, Luz’s subconscious grabs the thing, unfurling a small and imaginary piece of parchment in her head.

 

There, she can see a singular word, written in small, instantly recognizable handwriting.

 

Her eyes blink open, shaking the sudden daze away that threatens to keep her stuck to the ground. Luz forces her legs to move and her feet forward, wings unfurling, beating furiously skyward once she gathers enough speed. 

 

She’s farther into the forest than usual, running wouldn’t nearly be quick enough to get back.

 

The something, the thing pounds furiously in her head along with each beat of her wings. 

 

Soon, but not nearly soon enough, Luz is tumbling to the ground, landing as sloppily as if she were a kid again. Her legs recover, pain shooting through her shins as she races towards the house.

 

It’s a familiar sensation; one accompanied by blind panic as she runs through another forest, legs throbbing as she searches for the same person. She’s in a different time, different place, but it’s so horribly similar that Luz wonders for a moment if she’s doomed to relive the same moments in her history again and again, like a broken clock with its hands ticking towards the same number forever.

 

Luz bursts through the sliding door, startling Camila, who stands at the kitchen sink washing cups from this morning. Her mother nearly drops the mug she’s holding.

 

“Mija! Heavens, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

 

She doubles over, attempting to regain her breath, flames licking at her lungs as she inhales.

 

“Where’s Amity?”

 

The older angel furrows her eyebrows and reaches over to turn off the water, grabbing a towel from besides the sink.

 

“She’s out right now.”

 

Luz stares, incredulous, as her mother dries the mug, seemingly unaware of the wrongness that is stirring inside of her.

 

“What do you mean, she’s out?”

 

“Getting groceries with Eda, I believe.”

 

Camila finishes wiping the cup down and sets it to the side, grabbing another and starts running the water again. Luz can barely hear it over the rushing of blood in her head, hands going limp at her sides.

 

Something is going to happen today, and it all feels so wrong.

 

“What do you mean, she’s getting groceries with Eda?”

 

The older angel shuts the water off, turning fully to face her, a tinge of concern in her worn expression. She wonders why Camila can’t feel it, can’t sense this thing too, is able to be so calm right now when she’s jumping out of her skin.

 

“Yes, she’s out grocery shopping with Eda. Is something the matter?”

 

“How long have they been gone?”

 

“An hour maybe.”

 

The concern on her mother’s face deepens, but Luz is already back out the door, feet thundering against the hard earth as she runs back outside.

 

“Mija?!”

 

She’s panting now, air cloying and sickeningly sweet in her mouth. Birds chirp in alarm as Luz sprints past them, multicolored wings taking flight against the cloudless sky. There’s a small, discrete dirt path that leads towards town, and she makes way towards it, about ready to spread her own wings and fly-

 

Two figures emerge suddenly into view, hidden by the thicket; she very nearly slams into one, feet skidding on the ground.

 

Luz is reaching her hand out to rest on their arms, to steady herself, before seeing those familiar golden eyes wide with surprise.

 

Amity.

 

All the frantic energy drains from her body as her subconscious registers the name. 

 

Safe.

 

“... Luz?”

 

Her name is said with hesitation, as if it would bite the tongue of the girl who utters it. The infliction on it, a simple three letter word, treated with the care of someone holding a fragile package, threatens to undo her. 

 

It used to be said so flippantly, before her name became synonymous with hurt and lies and betrayal and heartbreak.

 

Amity’s carrying a faint frown on her face and two paper grocery bags in her hands, the bags covered with printed cartoon drawings of fruit and the words Whole Foods. She’s not sure why her brain fixates on this instead of the two fallen archangels in front of her, but she can’t look away from the bags.

 

Maybe it’s shame, at having overreacted so badly over Amity’s sudden disappearance.

 

She’d thought… something had happened again.

 

Curse the sickly sweet wind and it’s mysterious ways, planting ridiculous thoughts in her head. 

 

“Luz.”

 

How long has she been standing here?

 

Her eyes snap up, meeting Eda’s slightly bemused ones, and then Amity’s cautious ones. The expression brings a wave of guilt crashing through her, drowning and suffocating. Luz thinks she actually tastes salt water, but then something wet drips from her cheek.

 

Am I… crying?

 

Quickly, before either of them can see, she wipes a hand across her face and then sticks it out in front of her.

 

“Here, let me help you with that.”

 

Glancing up, Luz can see Eda watching her curiously, eyes softened ever so slightly. She knows then, the woman saw her tears. Shame burns in her cheeks, and she reaches out further to take one of Amity’s bags.

 

The fallen archangel only stays frozen, making no effort to hand over the bag; so with her cheeks going darker with blush, she grasps the handle. 

 

For a second, she’s not sure if Amity plans to let go.

 

Her mouth has parted into a small o, golden eyes just as wide with abject shock at Luz’s boldness. Slowly, she can feel Amity’s fingers loosen on the bag, and then they slide out from under hers.

 

What is she thinking?

 

The weight seems much heavier this way. 

 

She doesn’t know how long they stay like that, looking into each other, until Eda clears her throat.

 

Luz jumps back and turns on her heel, walking towards the house with the two of them following not too far behind. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and she can feel Amity’s eyes boring into the back of her skull, but there’s a lingering sense of relief that almost brings a smile to her lips. There’s nothing humorous about the situation, but she wants to laugh.

 

Camila is still in the kitchen when they get back, and barely acknowledges them with a nod. Luz swings her bag of food onto the counter, and silently, the three of them start to unpack the groceries.

 

It’s a simple, monotonous thing, but it means the world to her.

 

It’s a sign of something happening. It’s a sign of something changing. Such a little thing, putting away groceries, but the fact that Amity and her can do it together without tears and shouting says something louder than any angry words could. 

 

Luz is very nearly grinning as she puts a can of beans away in the pantry.

 

Soon, all the food is gone from the countertop, and Camila and Eda have somehow given them the slip. She notices this when she notices the absence of noise, and looks up to find Amity staring at her, both women mysteriously absent from the kitchen.

 

If she were brave, Luz would break the silence.

 

But she’s not, and Amity turns away, seemingly about to walk away from the kitchen. 

 

Somehow, she finds herself only a foot away, hand hovering near the fallen archangel’s arm. Luz stops herself before the hand lands on its destination, but Amity turns back towards her anyhow.

 

Her face is closed off, lips pressed tightly together, eyes not friendly yet not filled with hatred either.

 

“What?”

 

She suddenly can’t speak, stuttering and stammering over her words. 

 

“I- uh- I…. um, wanted to…”

 

Amity only raises an eyebrow at her attempt at speech. Luz feels her cheeks flush red again, silently cursing her inability to say something , now that she finally has the chance to for the first time in months.

 

She inhales, forcing herself to stop shaking.

 

“When I saw that you weren’t here, I was… scared. I thought something had happened to you…”

 

“... again.”

 

Amity didn’t say anything, but Luz could see the clench of muscle in her jaw.

 

“You weren’t here, and I was scared, because even though it feels like you’re a million miles away most days, you’re still here. But for all I knew, you were actually a million miles away… and that just… I just-”

 

“Luz.”

 

She’s rambling now, but the fallen archangel still somehow knows the most effective way to shut her up. Her mouth snaps closed, and just pleads silently with her eyes as she looks at Amity. 

 

Don’t leave.

 

“I can go places, and do things, and I don’t need to run them by you.”

 

“Yes, I know that, but-”

 

Amity holds up a hand.

 

“No, I don’t think you know that. I can live without you, and I can be my own person. I don’t need you there, watching over me, carrying my bags because you still feel guilty about things.”

 

Her words seem to root Luz to the ground.

 

“I’m… fine on my own. I’m fine just being… Amity.”

 

It feels like a cosmic shock of some sorts.

 

And she feels so stupid.

 

“Do you still love me?”

 

The words sound small, silly as she says them, and Luz wished they’d never tumbled out of her mouth.

 

Amity seems taken aback, mouth falling open again. She doesn’t take any pleasure in rendering the fallen archangel speechless, after the humiliation she just went through. Luz wants to rewind time, take back the question, because she’s afraid of the answer, afraid that Amity will say-

 

“No.”

 

Afraid of that. 

 

“I’m not still in love with you. And it would be good… if we… if we weren’t friends again either. Because-”

 

The fallen archangel clamps her mouth shut, pursing her lips, but somehow, Luz already knew what she was going to say.

 

“Because if we get close, I’m not sure I can stop myself from falling for you again.”

 

Call it a premonition, if you will.



Notes:

Luz: *inwardly* What is she thinking??

Amity: *Gay gay homosexual gay*

 

Oof I’m sorry y’all

 

On a side note, please leave comments because I’m slowly loosing motivation for this story (as you might’ve noticed from the three week posting gap), and I would like to know if people still enjoy this

Chapter 10: Crescendo

Notes:

“I’m either screaming or crying or both after every chapter and literally this fic is at least in my top 5. I love your writing and story building so much😭😭 Literally I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter”

- GabsterWolf

 

Hehe this makes me happy....... glad the angst is still enjoyable

 

Ayo this is pain. Existence is pain

 

ALSO there is now art for the last chapter by the lovely @la_fire_chicken_art! Go check them out on IG, very pog

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

She wonders if she’s made a mistake.

 

Amity is tired of hurting people. She’s tired of looking into people’s eyes and seeing the pain in them, disguised by a shaky smile and the flippant wave of a hand. She’s no sadist. She never has been.

 

It hurts her, actually, to tell Luz the truth.

 

Amity wishes she had a dictionary in front of her, to find the most apt and perfectly acute words to describe her thoughts. Hurt is such a simple word, encompassing so many things yet not enough, not enough to properly tell the mournful tale her soul is trying to sing.

 

But she’s not the cleverest with words or poetry, and her head feels as if it’s filled with fog. Hurt will have to suffice.

 

Whoever said that loving someone was the most joyful experience of life should be strung up by their ankles and left to rot for the vultures. The same fate should be enjoyed by the person who believed that loving would make you whole, and should be accompanied by the someone who wrote that love was like a breath of fresh air in the lungs.

 

Who were they, to be spreading such lies, giving false hopes to damaged souls such as her?

 

Luz is long gone, escaped to wherever she now spends her days. Amity is left alone in the kitchen, feeling so very, very hollow.

 

There had been agony in the angel’s eyes, there was not a better word to describe it. Broken pieces of glass in Luz’s heartbroken gaze, something so real and never before written in all the romance novels Amity had ever read.

 

That doesn’t really surprise her; after all, no one wants to read about two young people broken apart, neither ending up with their fairytale life. Their promise of happiness by the very existence of the story. In real life, there’s no guarantee for a happy ending. There’s always something lost, oftentimes more than is gained. 

 

The bad times don’t simply disappear like the sun suddenly peaking through overcast skies; the overcast skies come first, and then it starts to rain. Rain gives way to heavy torrents, and you’re left standing there, soaked to the bone as you try to decide if it’s worth going inside.

 

Amity is soaked, shivering, in a metaphorical sense, and feeling so very, very empty. 

 

It’s tiring.

 

The dark circles never seem to go away.

 

She looks down at her shoes, mud splattered like an abstract painting across the soles, and realizes that she can’t feel her feet. They’ve gone numb.

 

She wonders how long she’s been standing there.

 

Amity tries to take a tentative step forward, pins and needles racing up her legs as she does so. The fallen archangel lets out a soft grunt, ignoring the sensation as she hops up and down to regain some of the feeling in her feet.

 

The sun is just starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant orange, the clouds tipped with pink around the edges and fluffy white in the center. They hang low in the sky, errant brushstrokes by the master painter that created this ethereal landscape. 

 

The trees themselves have taken on a golden glow, leaves bathed in the setting sun.

 

It’s so beautiful.

 

Amity has always loved spring regardless, but the painting sprawled before her is enough to bring just a small tear running down her cheek. Maybe it’s all the emotions running through her head, or the inability to care anymore, but she would be freely sobbing if she had any energy left. 

 

Her place on the ground is too low to properly appreciate the sunset, her view half hidden by the pines that seem to stretch upwards for miles. For the first time, Amity actually feels… small. Insignificant. No bigger than an ant crawling across the ground.

 

She snaps out of her daze, and sets off towards the side of the house, feet dragging in the dirt. Amity’s in no hurry. She’s now free, unburdened by love and obligations. Detached from the world.

 

Empty and alone.

 

Rounding the corner, she spots the rickety old ladder, and begins to ascend without a second’s hesitation. The wood has splinters, they cut into her palms as she climbs, but Amity pays no mind. She’s all but numb to simple things like bruises and cuts and scrapes and splinters. It would take something much greater than that to distract her from the ever growing ache in her chest. 

 

The roof is empty of Boscha, thank the heavens, and she breathes a sigh of relief. 

 

She stands, a little too close to the edge, and watches the sun arc lazily across the evening sky, disappearing further and further into the horizon. The trees’ golden hue begins to fade in its prominence, leaves returning to their early spring green as the sky shifts from orange to red to violet.

 

As the world turns dark, the quiet melody playing in her head turns just a little more somber.

 

Amity wonders if she’s made a mistake.

 

She doesn’t love Luz. She made the decision not to. She made the choice to free herself, to be independent, to try to find her own way.

 

Love makes that more difficult. It sets expectations that can’t be reached, always leaving a lingering disappointment that sits bitterly on her tongue.

 

Why couldn’t I have done better?

 

Love… was a tricky thing for her. However the joy and the wholeness came, it was only fleeting and disappeared soon after, taking all the air in her lungs with it.

 

It stole everything, and left nothing.

 

The melody in her head landed on a mournful chord, slow and soft and gentle, causing her heart to clench just once. There was no music actually playing, the only thing close was the wind whistling through the trees, but Amity could swear she heard notes trilling and crescendoing. 

 

She could swear she smelled something familiar too, besides the scent of pines and warm earth, something intimate and comforting.

 

Amity felt unsteady, legs shaking as she suddenly had to repress the memory that was threatening to split her skull apart.

 

“Well, do you actually know how to play that thing?”

 

“Ha! Baby, I can play you any tune you like.”

 

Her love. The happiest moment she could remember.

 

Suddenly, the sunset didn’t seem so lovely. Suddenly, it reminded Amity of another sunset, somewhere else, seen outside the window of a small, cozy house. A house with red walls and brown furniture and an undeniable warmth .

 

“No… I don’t…”

 

Her words were frail, feeble, no one listening. Not even the wind.

 

~~~

 

Luz is sitting at the piano, cracking her knuckles and wearing that goofy grin that Amity loves so, so much.

 

Of course, the archangel can’t tell her that, because Luz would be insufferably smug about it.

 

She raises an eyebrow, expectant.

 

“Well, do you actually know how to play that thing?”

 

Her girlfriend’s grin only grows wider, gleaming white teeth peaking through as she gives Amity a fond look.

 

“Ha! Baby, I can play you any tune you like.”

 

She certainly won’t be telling Luz how the pet name makes her heart leap into her throat. Flushing, she turns her face away, receiving a snort of laughter from the angel as she spies the red on the tips of Amity’s ears. Pouting, she hastily covers her ears, only causing Luz to laugh harder.

 

“Oh, quiet you!”

 

Luz conceals her laughter behind her hand, but she can still see the joy twinkling in her girlfriend’s eyes. She struggles not to smile.

 

“I’m serious! Can you actually play the piano or are you just trying to impress me?”

 

“I swear, I can actually play. But… I wouldn’t say that I’m not also trying to impress you.”

 

The angel looks sheepish, and this time Amity is the one who grins.

 

“Well, that was obvious from the start.”

 

Luz shrugs noncommittally, and Amity feels herself fall even harder. She loves this angel, with every bit of her heart and soul, so much that it scares her. What would happen if the two of them were suddenly pulled apart, alone again in the world? What would happen to her?

 

She thinks that she wouldn’t be able to stand living without Luz.

 

“Amity?”

 

Her girlfriend is staring at her, just the slightest bit of concern in those chocolate eyes. She snaps out of her daze, giving the angel a small smile.

 

“Go on, do your thing.”

 

The concern fades away as quickly as it came, goofy grin back in its place, and Luz sets her fingers on the keys. She takes a breath, and starts playing.

 

The melody is low, soft, just repeated arpeggios that get progressively slower until the angel’s fingers stop moving. After a moment’s pause, Luz starts again, faster notes accented by chords that linger softly under the moving line.

 

Then, she starts singing.

 

“I’m up all night, up all night all night all night.”

 

“Up all night, all night all night.”

 

“Thinking about how you feel just right,”

 

“Here, in my arms.”

 

Amity is struck speechless, caught off guard by how beautiful Luz’s voice sounds, and the way the music continues to increase its intensity, still slow but now with two moving lines played by both of the angel’s hands.

 

“I’m up all night, up all night all night all night.”

 

“Up all night, all night all night.”

 

“Wishing upon a shooting star,”

 

“That you could stay just where you are.”

 

The music gets louder, notes higher as Luz’s hands move up the keyboard. Amity hadn’t really noticed how long her fingers were before, not like this, so effortlessly reaching all the notes even as her hands weren’t playing the same rhythm. 

 

Luz stops singing, solely focused on the now present melody and harmony parts, hands darting along the piano as the music swells.

 

She feels herself grow warm, dumbstruck and rooted in place. The angel looks so peaceful, perfectly at ease despite the difficulty of the song, and Amity wants nothing more than to kiss here right then. 

 

Luz’s hands slow, going back to the repeated arpeggios, with soft, sad yet sweet chords playing underneath.

 

All too soon, the music ends.

 

And her girlfriend simply looked… radiant.

 

Giving in, Amity leans towards Luz, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss, scared to push too much and ruin the moment. The angel only tilts her head upwards, the two of them drinking each other in. 

 

She reluctantly pulls away for air, and Luz looks a bit dazed. 

 

“So, did you like it?”

 

Amity grins, chest ballooning with warmth at her girlfriend’s hesitancy, as if there was even the slightest possibility that Amity wouldn’t enjoy her playing.

 

“Like doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

 

~~~

 

Her world tilts sideways, her stomach in her throat.

 

The flashback has left the taste of bile in her mouth, and Amity finally recognizes the song playing in her head.

 

It’s Luz’s.

 

She stumbles, foot glancing against the roof, already too close the edge.

 

Amity has no way to catch herself.

 

She falls.



Notes:

Amity: I’m mad trippin right now

Me: Yeah, trippin right off the roof

 

I’m sorry ;-;

Chapter 11: Crushed flowers and broken hearts

Notes:

"Me, seeing a new chapter is up: *cracks knuckles* “alright time for PAIN”

Me, after reading the chapter: *sobbing* “goddammit every time”

-Erritiguei1

Yall... Idk what you expect... I have a reputation to uphold hdhlghdlgghsgh

 

"I READ THE FIRST STORY THROUGH THE NIGHT AND NOW I AM HERE, PAST NOON, FUCKING SCREAMING BECAUSE IT ENDED RIGHT HERE FOR ME. OF ALL OFTHE MOMENTS I COULD'VE GOTTEN INTO THIS SERIES, IT'S WHEN THE LATEST CHAPTER IS A FUCKING CLIFFHANGER. OF AMITY FALLING. FOR FUCKS SAKE I'M READY TO FUCKING CRY.

I'VE BEEN OBSESSED AND YOU ARE PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PERSONAL TORMENT I'VE GONE THROUGH. I'M CRYING. I LOVE THIS SO FUCKING MUCH, YA DON'T EVEN KNOW.

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, YOU VICIOUS QUEEN. YOU DESERVE LOTS OF LOVE, I WANNA GIVE MORE KUDOS BECAUSE FUCK. KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, DIDN'T NEED MY HEART ANYWAY, THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS"

- Commandier99

EEEEEEEEEEEEE I love it when new people get into this series!!! Fresh meat..... anyway im fucking screaming over being called "vicious queen" OML that's literally the best thing

 

Stream Washing Machine Heart by Mitski...... I don't think y'all understand.... I'm OBSESSED obsessed with this song. Have currently played it for 22 hours straight and I wish I was kidding

https://open.spotify.com/track/4Ys8jQvZOISzmp34BsImRf?si=fqNsaTfDQESAxt9bHDkdWg

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

The world hazes in and out of focus, blurred around the edges of her vision. It seems as if the world is tilted on its axis, a full ninety degree rotation, until Amity realizes that she’s laying sideways.

 

Huh.

 

Her head feels fuzzy, and her thoughts seem a beat behind their usual processing speed. Everything is taking too long to register.

 

Her very bones throb, a deep set ache that’s different from the usual emotional pain. It feels like she slammed into something, or rather, something slammed into her. Amity tries to lift her head, and suddenly a sharp pain shoots through the back of her skull, lighting her nerves afire. She lets out a low groan, and her head falls back into the dirt.

 

Dirt…?

 

The fallen archangel blinks once, twice, vision clearing just a slight bit. The fuzz lifts, and she sees stars. Literal and metaphorical. 

 

Her mind is still a dizzying mess, brain trying to comprehend why she’s seeing a wide open sky, filled with stars. Amity slowly comes to realize that she can feel dirt clinging to her skin: her arms, her legs, her face, tangled in with her hair. She can smell the earth, still barely warm from the heat of the sun and her body, an aroma that’s strangely soothing.

 

Why am I lying in the dirt?

 

The stars blink at her as she rolls onto her back, looking up at the roof and night sky. 

 

Oh.

 

Her bones ache, her head is fuzzy, her joints are stiff and everything still feels too slow, but in Amity’s addled brain, she remembers. 

 

I fell.

 

Something bubbles up from the pit of her stomach and eventually into her throat. The fallen archangel giggles.

 

It’s not funny, not really. It’s actually so absurd that you’d be crazy not to laugh in her situation, everything hurting, throbbing from falling off a roof; but she’s lying in the dirt, giggling. The stars are winking and laughing too, and suddenly, everything seems so much lighter than before. A physical weight lifted off her chest.

 

I fell!

 

A tear rolls down Amity’s face, and she honestly can’t tell if it’s from laughter or something more profound than that.

 

I’m fallen!

 

She has the urge to scream it at the top of her lungs, but it still feels like all the air has been knocked out of her. 

 

Amity tries turning her head, relieved when it hurts less than before. Her vision still swims a bit, but the fog in her mind seems to be clearing, her brain finally catching up with the rest of her body. 

 

It’s nice here, actually. The ground is warm and unusually soft, like a dirt pillow cushioning her. She could sink into the earth, let it swallow her, bury her alive. Amity thinks she wouldn’t mind. One of the nicer ways to die, she reckons. Peaceful.

 

Something catches in the corner of her vision, drawing her mind away from thoughts of letting the ground eat her whole. It’s white, glowing, nearly translucent in the starlight. She squints, tilting her head closer and ignoring the dull pain in her neck as she does so.

 

The fallen archangel starts at what she sees; thin white petals, delicate and dainty, sparkling so effervescently. 

 

Flowers.

 

Quickly, Amity realizes what she’s laying in. A flowerbed. A literal, bonafide, bed of flowers.

 

She doesn’t know what kind these are, but notices that more plants lie around her body in neat rows, and reckons that Willow must’ve planted them.

 

A sudden beam of light breaks free from the sky and properly illuminates the flowers directly in front of her nose. Their petals glow even brighter, and she can see each individual vein, each tiny drop of water that condenses on the surface. Amity is transfixed.

 

Simple beauty, so pure and lovely, only giving and never taking.

 

A sob catches in her throat, and the fallen archangel swears she can feel all the plants she’s crushed under her body, their tiny souls crying out pitifully. 

 

So much work, so much dedication and love put into these flowers that she doesn’t even know the name of, and Amity has ruined them in the span of a second, the moment when her body hit the ground. They saved her life too; soft, newly turned dirt that they rest in having cushioned her fall. These flowers gave their life for her’s.

 

Her tears mix with dirt, probably further harming these innocent flowers.

 

What did she do to deserve their sacrifice? Why did she get to live, while they didn’t?

 

In what kind of unfair world does that happen?

 

Amity thinks that she should’ve fallen off the other side of the house.

 

~~~

 

Willow’s POV

 

There’s an imprint in her daffodils. A large, suspiciously body shaped patch of crushed flowers that nearly makes her heart wilt when she sees it. 

 

All that time spent… 

 

She kneels next to the daffodils, gently lifting a limp stem with her finger, the flower already bruised and discolored. Beyond repair.

 

Interestingly enough, there doesn’t seem to be a mark of wings in the dirt, the imprint being too small for that. The angel frowns, distraught turning to ice in her chest. Willow glances to where she knows she’ll find Boscha, and she does, sleeping under her usual pine tree.

 

Her personal nuisance.

 

That… damn demon took a nap on my flowers!

 

She looks back at the crushed daffodils, displeasure puckering in the corners of her mouth. The angel feels almost sick, in a sense. Boscha is a demon; it’s in her nature to be sly and devious and dishonest and a whole slew of other qualities that Willow usually avoids in people, but she hasn’t ever seen her be outright… cruel.

 

She frowns.

 

Boscha is a lot of things, but never cruel. Not to her, at least. The angel can’t speak for past encounters.

 

The demon knows how much the flowers mean to her, heaven knows she’s spent enough time watching Willow garden and tend to them. So she doesn’t understand why Boscha would pick now to destroy them.

 

Unless… 

 

It hurts more, if they trust you first.

 

Somehow, it stings like betrayal.

 

The revelation is an interesting one for Willow. She wasn’t even aware that she tolerated the demon, much less trusted her, but her own mind is often an enigma. It’s strange, how much Boscha has grown on her over the last few weeks. At times, her company was almost… enjoyable.

 

She looks back at the flowers, and her heart hardens like stone. Willow angrily grabs her watering can from besides the flowerbed, and fills it up with the nearby hose. Before rational thoughts can catch up to her, she storms over to where Boscha is still sleeping and promptly dumps the entirety of its contents over her head.

 

The reaction is immediate.

 

The demon jolts awake, limbs flailing, before wiping water from her eyes with a supremely confused expression.

 

“The fuck…?

 

She spots Willow, who’s still wearing a glare and has daggers in her eyes.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

Boscha’s words are harsh, defensive like usual, but there’s something else there too. It’s like she’s shying away from Willow, anger taking the place of a deeper hurt, like she’s afraid the angel is going to hit her.

 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Why did you ruin my flowers?”

 

The demon now has a matching frown on her face, real confusion in those sky blue eyes.

 

“What’re you talking about? I haven’t even been near your dumb daisies. You watch them like a hawk!”

 

“Then tell me, why does it look like someone took a nap in them?!!”

 

Boscha is pressed flat against the tree, like some animal that’s been cornered. Her posture is so different from its usual arrogant self; the demon almost seems as if she’s trying to make herself smaller, to shrink in on herself.

 

Willow is suddenly taken aback by this, and she feels the anger draining from her body.

 

“I don’t know who crushed your flowers, Flowers, but it wasn’t me.”

 

The demon seems so sad, so deflated, that Willow can barely stand to look at her like this. She relaxes the watering can in her grip, feeling any remaining traces of anger slide off her face. Boscha pushes herself up, brushing dirt off her hands and glancing towards the flowerbed. Her brow furrows upon spotting the indent among the daffodils.

 

“I’m tired of being blamed for everything bad that happens to you, Willow.”

 

She’s deadly serious, and a tidal wave of guilt floods the angel’s chest. 

 

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

 

The demon’s frown softens slightly, the sharp, defensive thorns she’s put up breaking down slightly.

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok?”

 

“Ok.”

 

Boscha simply cracks her neck and walks away, sparing a lingering glance towards the daffodils. 

 

Willow watches her go, something panging in her chest. It’s an insistent, painful, nagging feeling that she doesn’t like. She doesn’t like it at all.

 

Quickly, so quickly that the angel almost doesn’t believe it happens, Boscha turns head and gives her a smile. An actual, real smile, gone as quickly as it came.

 

“I’ll tell Eda to get you some more flowers from Home Depot.”

 

She doesn’t like this feeling at all, because Willow suddenly remembers where she’s felt it before.

 

“... Oh, Christ.”

 

Notes:

Willow: Who crushed my flowers? I’m not mad, I just want to know.

Luz: … It was me, I did it-

Willow: No, no you didn’t. *looks pointedly at Boscha*

Boscha: I swear to hell below, I didn’t even go NEAR your flowers!

Luz: Willow, it was me, I crushed them. Let me replace them.

Emira: You know… Ed has been awfully quiet this whole time…

Edric: OH don’t you even start-

Everyone: *intensely arguing*

Amity: I crushed the flowers! I fell off the roof and landed in your flowers!

Everyone: …

Amity, tearing up: And I feel really, really bad about it… all those tiny, little flowers… dead because of me…

 

Yes I stole this from Parks and Rec and I feel no shame

Chapter 12: Can't handle rejection

Notes:

"aksnejsjsjw Willow, honey, darling, dearest.

You’re gay.

Also like? Amity lying in the dirt? Just, straight vibing in her existential crisis? That’s a whole mood, wish that were me. Might just go lay in the dirt while it’s raining now. Do me a favor? Just replace the serotonin drip with like, a placebo. Saline or something. Don’t tell me either. I think I’m too happy reading this story, so I wanna test that. That, or you’ve broken the happy receptors in my brain and they now register the anguish I feel from your story as happy juice.

Well done. Minimal screaming in this chapter, yet lovely all the same. 12/10. 💜"

- the_stars_all_around_us

 

Y'all... be honest...... have I given you folks stockholm syndrome? because you people seem awfully enthused to receive your weekly dose of angst....

 

on that note, enjoy! this one is fun :)

 

Song of the chapter is 4 morant by Doja Cat (no I definitely didn't steal the chapter title from it)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmxVpP-G9Zw

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

Better luck next time.

 

That’s what she tells herself.

 

Better luck next time.

 

When is her “next time”, exactly? Is it tomorrow? Is it in a week from now, a month, a year? Maybe two? Will she stay alone like this for the next decades, until the turning of time eventually ticks down to that magic number, and she lets herself go from this world?

 

Better luck when?

 

Not in this lifetime, certainly. Maybe she’ll have to wait a few more.

 

After all, her luck has been pretty crappy so far.

 

Luz has never heard of luck being so rotten. She’s certainly selfish, certainly there are others far worse off than her, but in this moment the angel thinks she’s had the crappiest luck of them all.

 

Everything good goes wrong, always. Everything falls apart, and the harder one holds onto it, the further it falls from their reach. Yet she thought, she knew life would go her way. She finally had something good, something worth holding onto, and hell be damned that she wasn’t going to let go of it.

 

Luz had a community, friends, people to trust, a family. Undeservedly, of course, but things were good. They were alright for the first time in her life.

 

She had Amity.

 

Oh, who’s she kidding?

 

She’s the most selfish person in existence to fly amongst the Isles, and to walk the Earth. Of course her happiness was only temporary, never guaranteed. Maybe if she hadn’t met Eda, hadn’t been so gullible, been not so careless as to wear her heart on its sleeve. Maybe then…

 

Well, Luz was cursed from the beginning. 

 

The angel twirls Viney’s knife between her fingers, another thing unrightfully earned. Another modem of trust put in her that wasn’t earned. Viney’s way of saying “I know you’ll do better. I know you can be better”.

 

Better luck next time.

 

The tip of the knife is sharp, Luz can feel the edge as she runs a calloused finger along it. A reminder. There are still more accidents to be had. Still more things to sour, still more luck to run completely dry. 

 

Heavens.

 

They were supposed to be forever, weren’t they? They were going to change the world, together, an archangel and an angel standing side by side. That was what they promised each other. 

 

Forever is just for a little while. Always is until something changes.

 

“I love you” is until we forget why we chose each other.

 

“I promise” is until our words become worthless.

 

She sighs.

 

Promises.

 

What good are they anyway, when everything is so fleeting?

 

~~~

 

It’s an easy day, a reprieve from work and worries and responsibilities and the million other assorted things that eat into their time together. But today, with all the paperwork done and the sun shining so delightfully, draws the two of them out to the park.

 

Luz is balancing on the stones that dot the edges of their path, hopping from one to the next like a little kid. Amity tries to contain her amusement, but the angel knows she’s hiding a smile. Distracted, she nearly loses her balance, pinwheeling her arms as to not fall. Her girlfriend swats at her, and this time, she does fall.

 

“Will you quit that? You’re acting like a child.”

 

Of course, Amity’s words hold no bite. They never do, not anymore.

 

“Why, am I besmirching your prestigious reputation, Archangel Blight?”

 

She scoffs, but those golden eyes give her away; filled with nothing but fondness.

 

“I doubt you know what besmirching actually means.”

 

Luz continues to hop from stone to stone, barely paying attention to her feet. She knows that the angels they pass are staring, but not because of her messing around. They’re staring at the two of them, mostly at Amity, in disbelief that an archangel and an angel are in such close company.

 

Good. Let them stare.

 

“Hey, I’m not as dumb as I look!”

 

Amity suddenly wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her off of the stones. She lets out a small yelp, but her girlfriend is pressing a kiss to her cheek and looking extraordinarily pleased with herself. Luz feels her face warm, feels the stares more acutely now, and all the childish energy has drained from her.

 

The archangel turns her head, just so her lips are brushing Luz’s ear.

 

“No. You’re dumber.”

 

Well, she certainly feels dumb right now, feet nearly rooted in place by Amity’s boldness. Her girlfriend is smiling, face clear and free and open, unburdened for once by the worry that people will know about them.

 

They’ve stopped walking altogether, so Amity drags her off the path and to a nearby bench.

 

They sit, and Luz brings a hand up to brush against her cheek, still tingling from the unexpected kiss. For the first time, the archangel looks almost shy, her own face painted a lovely shade of pink.

 

“What was that for?”

 

Amity snaps her eyes to Luz’s, and for a moment, she looks uncertain again.

 

The archangel is usually so careful about public affection, not even daring to lace their fingers together while at the library or out on a walk. They keep a healthy distance between themselves too, a few inches that leaves people free to assume that they’re nothing more than acquaintances. 

 

She certainly isn’t complaining about her girlfriend’s sudden show of affection, it’s just… unexpected.

 

“Was it too much? Because I can stop if you want, go back to-”

 

“No! No, please, it was fine. Great, actually!” 

 

Sure enough, Luz stumbling over her words has Amity smiling again, and that’s all that really matters.

 

“Just… you’re usually so careful about it.”

 

The archangel twists her hands together, almost sheepishly. Her smile twists into the secretive one, the one that Luz can tell hides some embarrassing secret Amity doesn’t want her to know. 

 

“Well…” 

 

Amity tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and Luz is struck with the almost overwhelming urge to kiss it free.

 

“Do you know why people stare at us when we’re together?”

 

“Is it because an archangel like you isn’t supposed to be with a lowly angel like me?”

 

Her girlfriend lets out a small laugh, but continues.

 

“Partially, yes. But they aren’t really staring at us. They’re staring at you.”

 

She’s struck by puzzlement, wondering where Amity is going with this. The pale pink on the archangel’s cheeks only goes darker as she continues.

 

“They’re staring at you, because you’re like the sun, come down to the Isles in angel form. You radiate so much light, so much happiness, so much of everything that is well and good it’s almost impossible not to stare at you. And I’m… I’m just like an island caught in your orbit.”

 

“I just want them to know that you’re not for them.”

 

Amity looks like she wants to bury her face in her hands, but continues regardless. Luz can only stare at her, mouth hanging open slightly.

 

“That… I’m the one lucky enough to have captured the sun’s attention.”

 

The archangel suddenly straightens up, running a nervous hand through her hair, a habit that she picked up from Luz. 

 

“You know what, forget about it, I’ve said too much-”

 

Luz cracks a grin, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist, pressing her face into Amity’s neck. She feels the archangel’s pulse speed up, and presses a kiss right into the dip of her neck. It says more than words could, and besides, she thinks that all the words have been stolen from her.

 

Amity hums contentedly, and she feels the vibration in her very bones.

 

It’s just the two of them. The two of them sitting there, uncaring to what others may think.

 

It’s just the two of them against the world.

 

~~~

 

Luz is torn from the memory by the skittering of feet above her. Her muscles tense, but it’s nothing more than a squirrel playing tag with its friends. 

 

Nothing more than a stupid squirrel.

 

She pulls shaky breaths from the warm afternoon air, her mind scrambled from the sudden memory. 

 

There are two things in her life now.

 

The Before, and The After.

 

Before she was confronted with her choices, still a child, still completely unknowing of what was about to come. A retribution for her actions. Still in love. Still… loved. And After, when she was ripped from her comfortable life, faced with reality, torn from the soft bed of lies that she rested in. 

 

After, where the only good things were her memories of Before.

 

Better luck next time.

 

Luz stands, carefully, methodically brushing leaves from her clothes. This forest used to give her solace from her old life, a place to clear her head and move on. But now, it’s tainted with memories of Before. Memories of… her.

 

The angel makes her decision.

 

Grasping Viney’s knife tightly, she carves only two jagged words into the bark of her favorite tree, her closest sense of comfort in this unfamiliar place. Stepping back, reading the words with detachment, seeing but not really soaking it in, hands shaking at her sides.

 

Luz raises the knife, then plunges the tip into the bark, just above her note. Her last words, of a sort.

 

The blade quivers, and eventually stills.

 

She turns.

 

She walks away.

 

They’ll find it in a few hours, when someone goes looking.

 

They won't find her. 

 

Notes:

Luz: Y'all ugly *poof*

 

hsghfgahhgfhga I'm absolutely not sorry because I finally see how the rest of the fic is going to play out and I'm excited about that

Chapter 13: Nobody left for me

Notes:

"Just two words, carved into the tree...

"chease burber""

- Mr_Saturn

 

IM LAUGHING SO HARD I CAN'T EVEN SEE MY FUCKING COMPUTER MY GOD

CHEASE BURBER

I can't even pst the chapter right now oh my fucking lord send help

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

She wakes with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

Everything is too quiet. Too still. There’s not enough movement, not enough laughter, not enough pounding of feet against the floor. In fact, there’s nothing at all. The house seems as if it’s empty.

 

Amity rolls out of bed, padding across the wooden floor, rubbing her eyes and yawning in time the wood’s creaking. There’s no one in the living room either.

 

She pulls open the sliding door, and sees not a soul in the yard. There’s just… nothing.

 

A frown stretches across her face.

 

“Hello?” 

 

No response.

 

“Hello?!”

 

The fallen archangel says it louder, a panicked shout; worried that something’s happened to the others, that someone took them, or they just… left. Worried that everyone has finally left her, all alone.

 

Amity’s heart crawls into her throat.

 

Nobody… nobody.

 

A speck appears in the sky, just a dark dot that’s seemingly out of place among the cloudless blue sky. She cranes her neck upwards and squints, trying to discern if it’s just a bird. The speck grows closer, and she can suddenly see that it’s no bird.

 

As the figure grows closer, growing with size at an almost alarming rate, the fallen archangel can make out obsidian black wings and a matching set of hair. Despite her instant knowing of who approaches, Amity can’t help the relief that floods her chest.

 

She hasn’t been completely abandoned. Not yet.

 

In less than the blink of an eye, Willow slams down onto the ground, stumbling as her legs grow accustomed to being back on the ground. She looks up at Amity.

 

The raven haired angel has been crying, and the sight leaves her feeling like jumper cables have been attached to her nerves.

 

She rushes towards Willow, placing her hands on the angel’s shoulders with barely a second thought. Her green eyes are filled with fresh tears and rimmed with red.

 

“What is it? What’s going on?! Where’d everyone go?”

 

Willow shrugs Amity off and sinks to her knees, burying her face into her hands. The fallen archangel can only watch as her childhood friend sobs openly in front of her, unable to contain the tears.

 

She wants to comfort her, wants to wrap an arm around her shoulders despite their more than rocky relationship. She wants to do something, but she’s just so confused.

 

Instead, Amity only kneels down next to the angel.

 

“Willow?”

 

“She’s gone.”

 

There’s no movement, no noise besides the ringing in her ears.

 

“... What?”

 

Willow looks up from her hands, face blotchy, eyes even redder and burning, burning, burning, burning so that Amity can’t help but look away.

 

“Luz left. She’s gone.”

 

~~~

 

I’M SORRY

 

Camila is huddled at the base of the tree, tears flowing down her own cheeks. The woman’s hands are trembling where they rest on the tree’s roots.

 

Everyone else is just staring at the words, blank expressions on their faces. The only one that betrays any emotion is Viney, who’s face suddenly twists up in something that resembles disgust, but not quite. The angel rips the knife out of the trunk, and throws it as far as she can into the woods.

 

It lands somewhere in a pile of leaves, lost forever.

 

Amity just feels… numb.

 

~~~

 

Luz’s POV

 

She's not following any beaten path, simply going where her feet take her. A nasty headache throbs at her temples, but she ignores it. There’s other things that hurt worse.

 

Bushes and low hanging branches catch on her wings, despite having them tucked in as close as she can. The trees are rather thick here, and they occasionally grab at the angel, tugging feathers free.

 

Little bits and pieces of herself, scattered on the forest floor.

 

Luz is falling apart at the seams.

 

She isn’t quite sure how long she’s been walking, the moon hangs quite high in the sky by now. Everything is muted; the stars aren’t even visible, the moon only peeking out behind the wisp of a cloud. Everything is black and grey, and the shadows seem to warp around her, laughing and pulling faces.

 

It’s not cold, but she’s shivering.

 

The angel is… afraid. It seems like anything could jump out at her from the shadows, and drag her away. 

 

She focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

 

Luz keeps walking for a while, nothing changes in her scenery. If anything, the dark becomes deeper, more black, taunting her as she stumbles and trips on roots that stick up out of nowhere.

 

There’s nothing, and then there’s suddenly something.

 

Garbage litters the forest floor in front of her, bags and wrappers of human food, mixed in with the leaves. The trees seem thinned out here as well, an abrupt shift from the wild wood to signs of civilization.

 

Luz wouldn’t say she picked up her pace eagerly, but there’s a new ferocity in her movements as she breaks through the trees, following where the garbage is the thickest. Shorty, a glow appears before her, and the angel breaks into a small jog.

 

It's not long before she breaks through the treeline, her stomach slamming into a metal barrier that materializes from the darkness. Her wind is knocked from her lungs, and she falls backwards, landing on the ground.

 

She gasps for air, looking up at the starless sky.

 

A rumbling noise builds in front of her, and then fades into the distance, but the strange noise is forgotten quickly as it comes. Luz recovers, tentatively sitting up.

 

Her wings feel all bent out of shape, and she fluffs them a couple times before it hits her. 

 

My wings! What am I supposed to do about them?

 

She can’t go waltzing into town with a pair of wings sticking out from her shoulder blades. The angel makes way to her feet, brushing the debris from her clothes.

 

I have to hide them somehow.

 

Luz can’t quite remember the specific miracle that she used to hide all of their wings, that one mission that seems forever ago. A different lifetime, it almost feels like. It doesn’t matter regardless, a simple camouflage spell will suit her purpose just fine.

 

She twists, drawing a spell circle at her wings and murmurs a couple words. With a small pop, her wings seemingly disappear.

 

One problem solved.

 

Luz looks at the metal barrier that she slammed into; beyond it lies a stretch of black pavement, and beyond that a few buildings. The scene looks achingly familiar, but her mind is too far gone to make the connection. 

 

She steps over the barrier and crosses onto the black pavement without bothering to look.

 

There’s a blare of a horn, the sudden blinding of lights, and Luz is frozen in place while a massive machine swerves around her. The human inside shouts a few angry words that she can’t discern, and flashes her a hand gesture. 

 

The angel hurriedly rushes across the rest of the road, her brain now helpfully supplying the information about cars that seems to have slipped her mind with common sense. She just thanks her lucky stars that it didn’t hit her.

 

Not for the first time, Luz has narrowly escaped death.

 

Her heart slams a furious rhythm against her ribs, and suddenly she aches to get out the dark. Luz rushes towards the nearest building, not even stopping to read the sign on it as she pulls herself through the door.

 

She lets out a sigh, taking a moment to compose herself.

 

Inside, there’s a few humans nursing drinks, none of them looking like they have any life left in their eyes. She freezes in the doorway, wondering if it was a mistake to stumble into this particular establishment.

 

“What’d’ya doing here, miss? My sign clearly says “No one under 21” and I don’t think ya are of drinking age yet. I’m sick of seein’ fake IDs tonight.”

 

Luz understood about half of what the man behind the counter said, and only stares blankly back.

 

“Err…”

 

His eyes soften just a tad, and he waves her inside.

 

“Well, I’ve got nothing against strays, as long as ya don’t ask for any alcohol.”

 

She can only mumble out a weak ‘thank you’ as she takes a seat at the bar. The stool is uncomfortable, and squeaks under her weight, but she doesn’t complain. In fact, it feels so good to sit, all the exhaustion catching up to her, that she nearly melts into the seat.

 

Luz looks up just in time to see the bartender slide a glass of water towards her, and she suddenly wonders if humans are actually a much kinder species than angels. She manages to give him a smile, and he only gives her a curt nod, returning to his work.

 

The angel slowly nurses her water, watching condensation trace its way down the side and settle on the counter top.

 

Maybe it’s not so bad here.

 

She doesn’t even know what time it is, unable to find a clock in sight. If she had her scroll, which she left back on the Isles, she might be able to know such a simple thing as the time. Instead, Luz knows nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

Her empty glass of water is set back down, and she hears a voice next to her that’s much too feminine to belong to the bartender.

 

“Mind if I sit here?”



Notes:

Amity: hey what the fuck is happening I just woke up from my beauty sleep

Willow: literally do not touch me

 

Anyway stream Nobody by Mitski because I am mentally ill

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQvg4nz4_I4

Chapter 14: Charm

Notes:

"I always see the title and think “help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” and I think that is a good description of Amity’s character"

Potato_goblin

 

HELP MF IVE FALLEN AND I CANT GET UP

it is THREE AM and and anything makes me laugh good golly

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

She turns her head towards the voice, and finds a young woman already sliding into the seat besides Luz before she can even answer. 

 

“Sure… I guess.”

 

The woman gives her a quick smile, and she can feel her chest tighten for the briefest of seconds. Her face feels a little warm, and suddenly the angel wishes she hadn’t drunk all her water.

 

Her new barmate leans over the counter and shouts towards where the bartender has disappeared.

 

“Jeremiah, get me a glass of sweet tea!”

 

She looks towards Luz’s own empty glass.

 

“And some more water!”

 

The answering grunt returns faintly from the backroom, and the woman leans back, evidently satisfied. She says nothing more, running her finger along a seam in the counter, humming the tune of something that Luz doesn’t know.

 

The angel studies her, while trying to remain inconspicuous.

 

She’s dressed plainly; black sweatshirt, grey leggings, white sneakers that somehow look sparklingly clean, despite the wear and tear on their soles. Her hair is cut short, a mop of dyed silver curls resting on her head, the sides and back shaved. The ear facing Luz has multiple piercings, golden hoops and studs lining her ear from top to bottom. While it might look overdone on anyone else, she thinks it works on this strange woman.

 

Her features are sharp, almost elfish, jaw looking like it could cut glass. She turns away and coughs, really wishing that she had more water.

 

The woman smiles to herself.

 

“Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to stare?”

 

She splutters, finding herself inexplicably tongue-tied. Even this woman’s voice is interesting; lilting, sweet, almost musical in a way. Like if a song was spoken.

 

“Relax, I’m just joking.”

 

Even though Luz still can’t find her voice, the woman seems unbothered, as if this is a normal occurrence. She’s still smiling faintly when the bartender returns, carrying a glass of sweet tea and a pitcher of water. Much to Luz’s relief, he refills her water glass, barely moving the pitcher away when she grabs the glass back and takes eager gulps. The bartender raises an eyebrow, and just leaves the pitcher on the counter.

 

The woman sips delicately on her tea.

 

“Thank you ever so much, Jeremiah.”

 

He lets out something that sounds like a snort.

 

“You better be on your best behavior tonight, young lady.”

 

She seems almost offended.

 

“Me? It’s always your other patrons that can’t behave themselves.”

 

The bartender waves her off and disappears into the back again. 

 

Luz watches this whole exchange curiously. Her throat is less dry now, and her skin no longer feels like it’s burning with fever. The glass is nice and cool against her palms.

 

“So, what’s your name?”

 

She looks up again, only to see that the woman’s full attention is fixed on her. Eyes, grey as storm clouds, capture her own, and Luz realizes that she can’t look away. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, the corner of her mouth tilted upwards.

 

Every hair stands on end, and her skin prickles. The angel can’t fathom why, the woman besides her seems perfectly friendly, but the lack of control she feels over herself is unnerving.

 

“It’s Lu… cia. You can call me Lucia.”

 

Luz wonders if the woman had asked a bit more firmly, or those grey eyes sparkled a bit more, would she have given her her real name?

 

The woman tilts her head, and she seems almost… impressed. The expression confuses her.

 

“Well, you can call me Sara.”

 

She holds a hand out to the angel.

 

“It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Luz tentatively takes the woman, Sara’s, hand. It’s rougher than it looks, fingertips calloused and tough. They shake once, and her hand falls back limply to her side.

 

Sara turns away from her and reaches for her tea, sipping it slowly. 

 

The prickling feeling has not gone away.

 

“Say, you don’t look like you’re from around here. What brings you to our little town? Not really a popular vacation spot, in my opinion.”

 

The angel has to shake herself out of the trance that this woman’s voice has put her in again. 

 

How am I supposed to answer that?!

 

She stays silent instead, and Sara chuckles.

 

“Ran away from home? Got sick of people telling you what to do, how to act, how to feel?”

 

The woman runs a finger along the rim of her glass, finally turning her gaze away. Luz feels like she can finally breathe again, no longer pinned in place by those piercing, stormy eyes.

 

“I can relate.”

 

There’s something… off about her. Not quite right. It’s maddening, because Luz is unable to put her finger on it.

 

If this “Sara” told her to jump off a bridge, she’d probably listen. When this woman looks at her, she feels a sting of attraction, almost compulsion; but when she looks away, there’s nothing. 

 

Luz has met charismatic people before, angels that can seemingly conjure up crowds of admirers from nowhere, but nothing like this. This is… unnatural. There’s a black hole around the woman, drawing everything and everyone towards her.

 

“Well, you’re a quiet one.”

 

Sara has one eyebrow raised, inquisitive, probing, intent on sucking the secrets from her.

 

“Stop that.”

 

Her voice comes out like a hiss, harsher than intended.

 

Just like that, the hair on the back of her neck settles down, and her skin stops burning.

 

“Stop what?”

 

The woman is grinning now, and Luz can hear it in her voice.

 

“Whatever that was! Whatever you were doing that makes me unable to peel my eyes away from you!”

 

Sara snorts, draining the last bit of tea in her glass.

 

“You could just call me pretty and be done with it.”

 

The angel can tell that she’s toying with her now, and it’s more than a little frustrating. It’s late, she’s exhausted, she has no idea where she is, and now this strange woman is playing her like a fool and Luz is running out of patience.

 

“I’ll just find somewhere else to go.”

 

Short on temper, she makes way to get off her stool and walk out of this godforsaken place, but a gentle hand rests on the back of hers. Sara is looking at her again, and for once, those eyes seem apologetic.

 

“I’m so sorry… I got carried away, I can’t really help it. Please sit down.”

 

Whether it’s her own choice or not, Luz obeys.

 

The woman is staring at her, curious.

 

“So, Lucia, you’re one of the ones who notice.”

 

“Notice…?”

 

“My charm, of course.”

 

My charm. 

 

Right. 

 

“Oh, of course! Your charm.”

 

Sara looks a bit startled for a moment, and then she smiles, a genuine one. Her storm cloud eyes appear to crackle with humor, but maybe Luz is a bit delirious from lack of sleep.

 

“You do have sass! That’s refreshing.”

 

“Uhuh.”

 

She just wants to collapse on the nearest bed. 

 

“Anyway, yes, my charm, for lack of a better word. You seem to notice, which is strange.”

 

“What’s so strange about that?”

 

“Well…”

 

The woman trails off, rubbing the back of her head. She seems to be contemplating something.

 

“The only others who notice are good old Jeremiah-”

 

She jerks a thumb towards the back of the bar.

 

“-and my ex.”

 

Sara smiles, but her lips are pressed tightly together.

 

“They’re both a little… special.”

 

Luz suddenly can’t breathe again, and she squirms. The walls feel too close together, and she swears that the woman sitting next to her can see straight through her soul. Her shoulder blades itch, right where her wings would be.

 

“What makes you so special, stranger?”

 

Those eyes bore into hers, crackling with intensity, and her mind goes off on a sudden tangent, remembering a lesson back from her school days.



“Now class, remind me how you can always recognize a demon, even if they appear human?”

 

The whole class answers, and Luz drones along with them.

 

“Their eyes.”

 

“Very good! Can someone tell me why that is?”

 

No one answers, so the teacher sighs and continues.

 

“They have typically distinct eye colors, uncommon colors that no human possesses. As a reminder, humans have amber, blue, brown, green, or hazel eyes. Very rarely, will they have red or pink eyes, due to a genetic mutation called albinism. They might also have eyes that appear grey, but in reality are blue or green eyes that have a lack of pigmentation. No human has true grey eyes.”

 

“Even if a demon possesses an eye color that matches a human eye color, you can tell of their demonic nature by the distinct lack of fear in their eyes. Demons cannot feel true fear, because they are the embodiment of fear itself.”



Sara’s eyes were grey. Completely grey.

 

The woman next to her was a demon.

 

Luz takes a deep breath, forcing her eyes not to betray anything. As long as she knew, and Sara did not, she had the upper hand.

 

“I’m no more special than you.”

 

The woman tilted her head.

 

“I’m pretty special, so you may want to find a different comparison.”

 

She curled her fingers into tight fists, wishing desperately that she’d not left Viney’s knife buried in that tree. Luz wasn’t extraordinarily confident that she could win a fight between the two of them.

 

“I don’t think so, demon.”

 

Sara narrowed her eyes, and she could swear she could see lightning flashing in them.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“What can I say, I’m special.”

 

“... You’re not a demon, I can tell.”

 

Luz felt every nerve in her body humming, telling her to run away as fast as her legs would carry her. She forced herself to stay, to stare this woman down. This wasn’t a fight she could lose, not after she had lost so much already.

 

“No.”

 

Sara’s eyes widened.

 

“You’re seeking asylum here, aren’t you? After the fall of the Isles.”

 

Is that what your kind is calling it? After all that you did? I'm sure you were there too, ripping apart my friends with your bare hands.

 

“The fall of the Isles.”

 

“No, I’m just a runaway.” 

 

Her eyebrows furrowed.

 

“But…”

 

All I can do is run away from my problems. 

 

“Aren’t you an angel?”

 

Luz was just… tired. She didn’t have any energy to pick a fight with this demon, this strange woman with storm cloud eyes and a voice that was anything but demonic. How could she even think of herself as any better than Sara? She was already fallen, even if she could still fly; the lowest on the totem pole.

 

“It’s not fair to angels to call me an angel.”

 

Demons might not be able to feel fear, but the sympathy in the woman’s eyes seemed as genuine as she’d ever seen it.

 

“I’m sorry. I really am. No one deserves to lose their home.”

 

Luz felt sick to her stomach.

 

When did I become such the scum of the Earth that I’ve earned a demon’s pity?

 

“If you need a place to stay, Jeremiah has extra rooms above the bar. You could probably stay for a few days until he kicks you out.”

 

She’s about to tell Sara that she'd rather sleep outside, but a wave of exhaustion hits her harder than before, and the temptation of a soft bed is too good to pass up.

 

“Fine.”

 

The demon smiles, but it’s small, closed off. She looks mournfully down at her empty glass, like she’s wishing for more tea to wash down the awkwardness. 

 

“My name is Skara, actually, not Sara. Sara is a stupid name.”

 

Luz would laugh, but nothing about this is funny.

 

“And you’re telling me this why?”

 

The demon rubs the back of her head again, sheepishly.

 

“Maybe you’ll trust me a little, if I trust you. Maybe you’ll trust that I won't go blabbing about you staying here to everyone.” 

 

Luz doesn’t say a word.

 

Skara steps away from the bar, giving her a two fingered salute that she immediately looks like she regrets making.

 

“Night, Lucia.”

 

“... Night.”

 

Notes:

Skara: hey hey pretty lady *winks*

Luz: I am GAY, I am a HOMOSEXUAL, I am a WLW

Amity *sniffing the air like a bloodhound*: I feel a disturbance in the force

 

anyway ahem skara rights

Chapter 15: Runaway, come home

Notes:

"also amity rn: i don’t like the sand. it’s coarse and rough, and it gets everywhere. not like you here...

oh my goodness in all seriousness i binged this series and i can finally feel something, SO WHAT IF IT’S PAIN?

also you mentioned in the notes of the last fic that your myers briggs was ISTJ and it makes me so happy that there’s another ISTJ writer out there bc contrary to popular belief we aren’t just robots :)

anyways, ur cool and also thanks for the heartbreak and angst riddled w memes!!

anyway ahem skara rights"

- moon_deity

 

ISTJ squad!!!!!! hell yeah, we have feelings too!

i only have two moods; pain, and funny. bit sad, but thats life

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7KWx9LAuuQ

yearning songs go brrrr

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

She feels so terribly lonely.

 

It’s silly, of course, but when is it not? Everything felt never makes any sense, and Amity has stopped trying to make sense of it. How can she feel lonely, when she has a small army with her; following her footsteps, her directions, putting their faith in her?

 

A single feather floats just ever so slightly off of her palm, that familiar red-brown color that screams of home and comfort and safety and betrayal and lies and runaway friends.

 

Ex-friend. Ex-girlfriend. Ex-everything, really, because the fallen archangel doesn't recognize what Luz has become. 

 

Regardless, she’s quite lonely. Normally, Amity has someone to share in her lonesomeness, a familiar soul that hurts just as much as hers. An angel that spends her days underneath the pine trees, carving away at her sheltered solitude, making little things that don't turn out quite right. She can see them littering the ground occasionally, when she takes walks.

 

She could find a bond in their shared loneliness, two broken people that can’t seem to find the energy to fix themselves. It’s comforting. 

 

Now, Amity is all alone, to be lonely by herself.

 

It’s exhausting.

 

A yawn rips through the fallen archangel, the absurd lack of sleep she’s been getting finally catching up to her. That, coupled with the energy it takes to maintain the tracking spell, is threatening to have her knees buckle then and there.

 

She pushes on, if not for herself, if not for Luz, but for the people the angel left behind. The ones who truly do care about her.

 

Amity glances over her shoulder, for the briefest of seconds.

 

The determined faces of Eda, Viney, Willow, and surprisingly, Boscha stare back at her.

 

She didn’t peg the demon as the volunteer type, especially concerning someone she barely knows, but Boscha is here nonetheless. Amity wonders if it has something to with Willow, who still looks about ready to cry if anyone says the wrong thing. The two of them walk rather close together, for people who seem to despise each other so much.

 

It almost hurts to watch them, a rock and its pillar, while she has no one. Not anymore.

 

The feather pulses, taunting her.

 

Shut up.

 

If she still had her wings, if she didn’t know how to track so well, Amity is almost certain she’d still be back at the house with everyone else. Then again, if she still had her wings, she’d be jumping at the opportunity, urging them along with harsh words and rushed movements.

 

Then again, if she still had her wings, Luz would still be here. The two of them would be curled up in bed still, her fingers combing through the angel’s hair, whispering sweet nothings under her breath. Maybe… they’d even be back home.

 

It's not fair, she knows, to think about the things that could’ve so easily been hers. Had she not made so many of the wrong choices. Had Luz… not made so many of the wrong choices.

 

Amity feels guilty the moment she thinks that, inexplicably.

 

Fault is hard to place, but some of it does land on the angel, she knows. It would be easier to blame everything on herself, but… here she is.

 

Trying to find someone who does not want to be found.

 

Trying to find the other half of her broken soul. Trying to pick up the pieces along the way.

 

It’s too early to be doing any of this, but Viney practically ordered them out the door the moment daybreak struck. The sky is still grey with morning light, but already she can feel the heat of the day, sticking her shirt to her skin. 

 

Anyhow, they go marching on. Not quite sure where they’re going. Not quite sure if there’ll be anything for them when they arrive.

 

~~~

 

Luz’s POV

 

“Wake up, angel.”

 

Luz jumps at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, blinking sleep out of her eyes as she tries to catch her bearings.

 

Light filters into the rooms she’s in at an unfamiliar angle; the sheets are rough, scratchier than expected, and there’s someone standing at the foot of her bed who she can’t instantly recognize.

 

The angel throws her covers off, peering at the person, heart hamming in her chest until the vauguest memories come trickling back to her.

 

The bar.

 

Demons. 

 

Taking a room here.

 

Sara? Skara.

 

She manages to wrestle the name from the hazy recollection of last night. The demon in question peers down at Luz as she rubs her eyes, face an expressionless mask.

 

“What’re you doing in my room?”

 

Her voice is scratchy, hoarse from misuse. Skara merely spins something around her finger, and the angel can see that it’s a ring of keys. She jangles them a bit in front of Luz.

 

“Special privileges. I’m here so much that I practically own the place.”

 

The demon is clearly joking, but the sad thing is that if she didn’t know any better, she’d believe her.

 

The sad thing is, Skara looks just as good in the daytime as she did last night, if not even better. Even more open and free when not underneath oppressive neon lighting that makes those cheekbones so sharp.

 

“Time?”

 

Her voice is shaky and weak, and Luz chides herself.

 

The demon only smiles.

 

“Nearly noon. Not surprising, since it was ‘round three when you went to bed.”

 

In the daylight, Skara doesn’t seem quite so threatening. With the sun streaming across her face, lighting up those dyed silver curls of hair, she seems positively angelic. Looking more like an angel than Luz does, even though her wings had reappeared sometime in the night. 

 

If those now calm storm grey eyes didn’t hold a deeper secret, a hidden darkness, black blood running through the woman’s veins, Luz might let herself feel relaxed and at ease like she wants to be.

 

At least Skara is honest about herself, not hiding like she is, a freak concealed behind a pair of wings that she hardly wants anymore.

 

“Not all demons are evil.”

 

It shouldn't be surprising, since Luz knows firsthand that all angels are not good.

 

But all she can see when she closes her eyes are teeth and claws and blood, screams and terror and broken families these many months later. All she can see when she looks at the demon is someone, something, capable of these terrible things that she let happen.

 

A monster behind the pretty smile.

 

Almost puzzled by the angel’s silence, Skara turns away and walks towards the door, before pausing yet again. She lets out a small laugh, a sort of mystified humor lingering on her features.

 

“That’s right! I was going to tell you something, but I got distracted by your cute face.”

 

Luz splutters, choking on her own spit in a rather undignified manner, but the demon only smiles and pays no mind.

 

“Some of the townspeople were talking about a group of people, probably angels, who are going around asking about someone named Luz. Short brown hair, brown eyes, medium height.”

 

She nearly chokes again.

 

“Would that by any chance be you?”

 

The demon raises an eyebrow at her, expectant, curious to see what she’ll say. Yet there’s no malice in her gaze, no sign of a threat in those grey eyes.

 

“N- no.”

 

Skara grins. 

 

“Well then. If I see them, I’ll say I haven't seen a Luz around here.”

 

Without another word, she disappears into the hallway, and Luz lets out a small sigh she didn’t know she was holding.

 

Maybe all demons aren’t evil.

 

~~~

 

It’s mid afternoon when something finally happens.

 

The first thing she sees is a head of pink hair, catching her eye from a little ways away in her window. Curious, Luz pushes the drapes completely away, peering closer at the person.

 

Then, she sees raven hair and a brunette accompanying them, and then an orange mane appears. Her heart starts jumping into her throat, then someone with mint green hair, auburn roots growing out, steps out from behind a run down warehouse and joins them.

 

Luz leans away from the window, pressing her back flat against the wall.

 

She feels like not enough air is getting in her lungs each time she breathes. 

 

They’re here.

 

What are they doing here? How’d they find me?

 

Unable to contain herself, she peeks out the window once more.

 

And finds herself staring at Skara, who’s underneath her window, staring at the group, who are staring back at her. The demon is holding something, and Luz watches as it slips from her hands and falls to the ground.

 

Cautiously, she pushes open the window, praying that none of them will notice or hear the creaking.

 

The scene is clearer, not obstructed by the filthy glass, and she sees Boscha step forward just a bit, shock evident on her face even from this far away.

 

“Skara?”

 

Skara returns her question in a small voice.

 

“Bosch?”

 

Luz can’t see the demon’s face, but her hands are shaking at her sides.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Boscha takes another step forward, cautious, more careful than she’d ever seen her act before. As the pink-haired demon approaches, she can see just how white her face has gone.

 

“I’m looking for… my friend. I see you’re still stuck here, probably still entertaining Jeremiah’s patrons with your one trick pony show. What happened to getting out of here? Doing something better?”

 

Skara’s voice shakes as she answers.

 

“Plans change. But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

 

Willow and Viney glance at each other, uncomfortable. Eda has her arms folded, and Amity seems… well, disinterested. Lost in her head, like always. 

 

She feels a sudden sting of guilt.

 

How much have I hurt them by leaving? How much have I hurt her?

 

The demon spreads her hands, pleading.

 

“What’re you doing, Bosch? Running around with angels and a con woman? Come home.”

 

“Stop trying to manipulate me, like you do everyone else!”

 

Willow suddenly steps forward, much to Luz’s surprise, and lays a hand on the pink-haired demon’s shoulder. She’s wearing a frown, but it’s directed in Skara’s direction.

 

“That’s enough, Boscha.”

 

Even more surprisingly, she listens to her, and relents.

 

Viney clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention away from the two demons.

 

“We’re just here to ask if you’ve seen our friend, not cause any trouble. She’s medium height, brown eyes and short brown hair, may or may not have wings, goes by Luz? Sound familiar?”

 

Skara tugs at her chin, faking thoughtfulness, and it feels like a stab to the heart when Luz sees that Viney actually looks a bit hopeful. Quickly, the demon drops her act, shrugging once.

 

“Can’t say that I’ve met a Luz recently. Or ever.”

 

The older angel’s face falls, and the whole group seems to shrink in on themselves. Even Amity. 

 

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

 

Skara nods curtly, and everyone turns away slowly. Luz so badly wants to shout that she’s there, she’s right here, but she knows it’ll only hurt them more if she returns. They need to heal, without her. She only brings trouble, and pain.

 

“And, if you take my word for it…”

 

Viney turns back around, hanging onto the demon’s words like they’re a lifeline.

 

“If someone runs away from you, they typically don’t want to be around you anymore. Just something learned from personal experience.”

 

Skara hisses out the last few words, and Viney visibly flinches. Luz can see Willow’s hands clench into fists, and Amity’s feet stall just for a second.

 

When they finally walk away, all the energy drained from their bodies, she knows.

 

She can never go back.

 

Notes:

Skara: ...

Boscha: ...

Skara: ...

Boscha: ...

Luz *quietly, from above*: hey, you two should kiss!

Viney *confused*: g-god??

 

yall im so fucking funny omfggg

Chapter 16: Reflection

Notes:

"Why do I let you hurt me."

- TheArtsyBlatherskite

 

It's the Stockholm Syndrome darling ;)

 

ehehhehehehehehehehehehehehehhehehehhehehehehehhehehehehehhehehehehheheheh

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

“You know what this town feels like?”

 

Skara turns her head a slight bit, eyes shifting away from the window towards Luz. She’s been stuck staring in that same spot for hours now, stuck in the place where Boscha and the others were. When those storm grey eyes meet hers, they’re utterly empty, a look she’s become all too familiar with.

 

“What?”

 

Luz sighs.

 

“It feels like losing.”

 

The demon moves her gaze back to the window. 

 

“You know… I think you’re right.”

 

She’s not quite sure how to elaborate on this sudden thought that struck her, but the angel thinks there’s nothing else to elaborate on. This place just… feels like losing. It feels empty and devoid of anything, of hope or dreams or wishes of making a better life for oneself. It feels like how you do when something goes wrong, the sudden deflation inside yourself, all the breath being stolen from your lungs in one fell swoop.

 

It’s not just losing hopes and dreams, it’s losing people too. Like… if you set foot here, people will start disappearing from your life, no matter how close or far you hold them.

 

This little town, filled with humans and demons and miscreants alike, feels like the place sick people come to die. Where people come to give up. To lose.

 

“You should be a poet or something, ‘cause that’s really the most apt description anyone has ever given this place.”

 

Luz raises an eyebrow at her. The demon merely shrugs.

 

“I’m serious. Sounds like your calling.”

 

She scoffs.

 

“Better than my old job.”

 

Skara waves her hand half-heartedly, gesturing for her to continue.

 

“Which was?”

 

“Well, I didn’t have it for that long, due to “emotional damages”, as my- she used to say.”

 

Luz trips over her words, disrupting her train of thought with a minefield of memories. Things that she’d been trying so hard to keep buried, for reasons both selfish and not.

 

My… 

 

Not anymore.

 

“Ahem! My old job. Yes, errr… I guess my job was to get rid of demons, in a way. Sniff them out like a blight... ah…” 

 

Christ, Luz.

 

This time, Skara is the one who raises an eyebrow at the angel’s pathetic attempt at speech.

 

“Take your time.”

 

The words are a light jest, but still, she feels flushed with shame. Clearing her throat, she tries for a third time.

 

“I was to attend missions on Earth, and report back any demon sightings. Then, we’d eradicate them, per Belos’s orders.”

 

“The demons.”

 

“... Yes.”

 

Skara smiles, thin and humorless.

 

“Like cockroaches.”

 

She says nothing in reply. 

 

At the very least, the demon doesn’t seem offended by her words, at least not visibly, but Luz still feels uncomfortable. Maybe Skara’s so used to this that she doesn’t get offended anymore, and that seems almost worse in a way. She’d rather offend her.

 

“I’m a musician. I play gigs at the bar, when I can find a backup pianist or guitarist.”

 

“That’s cool.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The angel gets the sense that Skara would be much bubblier, much brighter, had this world seemed not so hell bent on dragging her down. Had she been born human. Instead, she can only see the watered down version of the demon’s personality, a reserved nature about her that comes from a lifetime of watching one’s back.

 

“I can play the piano.”

 

Luz isn’t sure why she’s offering this tidbit of information, but it comes flowing out anyway. Skara seems the slightest bit impressed, anyhow.

 

“Oh, really? Huh.”

 

“Yeah, she used to love it, would beg me to play her something whenever she’d come over-”

 

She cuts herself off abruptly, before anything else comes out of her mouth, before any other old memories could be ripped open. But the damage is done, and the demon is now looking at her curiously.

 

“You keep mentioning her, like, with an emphasis. Who is she?”

 

Luz sighs, a heavy thing that sounds like a dying breath.

 

“Ex-girlfriend. You met her. Green hair, gold eyes, a disinterest in everyone and everything around her.”

 

Skara lets out a hum.

 

“Green hair? I would’ve thought the brunette, from the way she seemed so adamant on finding you.”

 

She almost lets out a snort.

 

“Viney? Nah. She’s dating green-hair’s sister, actually.”

 

The demon does actually laugh, a small thing that manages to bring a bit of cheer to the heavy mood in the room. 

 

“That must be an interesting dynamic.”

 

Luz smiles, mostly internally, but some of it does show on her face.

 

“I guess. But they’re just… so in love. It’s kinda gross sometimes.”

 

The smile quickly melts off.

 

Just like how we used to be. So in love. Nothing could come between us, not ever. It was practically unfathomable, at least for me.

 

“You alright?”

 

“... Not really.”

Skara grimaces, sensing that she’s dug into something that is better left untouched. Too late, anyhow, and the deep ache within herself only throbs with each heartbeat. The pain of a broken heart. 

 

Luz straightens up after a few moments, clearing her throat and attempting to not look like she just swallowed a lemon whole.

 

“So, how do you know Boscha? That seems like an interesting story.”

 

This time, the demon is the one who lets out a wince, and funnily enough, it does bring a small smile to Luz’s face.

 

“Oh, jeeze.”

 

The angel laughs, and waves her to continue, mimicking her gesture from before.

 

“Well, go on.”

 

Skara rubs the back of her neck, settling deeper into her chair.

 

“Boscha and I… we go way back to when we were kids. Both of us grew up here, spent our lives here, mostly in each other’s company. The best of friends. We were inseparable.”

 

The demon adopts a small, faint smile, good memories yet untainted by the world’s problems bringing a simple joy. It makes her seem… almost human. 

 

“When we started dating, it just seemed so easy, so natural. Just a transition from one stage of our lives to another. We just couldn’t seem to live without each other, and neither of us wanted to try. I taught her how to play the guitar, and we’d do gigs sometimes… and those would be the best nights of my life.”

 

Her words were so filled with longing, of missing love. It hurt Luz to hear the obvious pain in her voice, tinged with sorrow and regret and a million other things that she couldn’t name. But she knew… she felt them just the same as Skara.

 

“Then her dad’s drug problem started getting worse, and it got to the point where Boscha could hardly stay at her own house. One day, I guess she decided she’d had enough.”

 

Skara lets out a tiny sigh.

 

“With nothing but the clothes on her back, she shows up at my door and tells me she’s leaving. To find her own path, or whatever. She tells me… that she doesn’t want me to come with.”

 

“And then she left, and now I have… no one.”

 

The demon looks her dead in the eyes, and her own are starting to shine with the beginnings of tears. Luz feels it in her own bones, can feel her pain so acutely that it’s scary. She’s felt the exact same thing, is feeling the exact same thing. Of love and a friend lost, of losing someone that you relied on so heavily. Someone that was your singular source of joy in this world.

 

Unconsciously, she finds that she’s pushed her way to her feet, and is sitting in the armchair adjacent to Skara’s. Tentatively, she finds that she’s resting an arm on her shoulders, and that the demon is leaning into her touch.

 

At this moment, it doesn’t matter that she’s a half-breed, or that Skara is a demon. It doesn’t matter that she may have been one of the demons ripping her neighbors to shreds, because right now, Luz feels a kinship with her that’s unlike anything else. 

 

Despite everything, they are the same person, just for a moment.

 

She isn’t quite sure how it happens, but a pair of lips brushes against the corner of her mouth, just for a moment, and Skara quickly pulls back. Grey eyes stare into chocolate brown, shocked, wide with rash decisions and a mistake.

 

A laugh bubbles up in Luz’s chest, and the demon’s face splits into a grin.

 

“You aren’t her.”

 

“You aren’t her.”

 

They say it at the exact same time, which makes her laugh even harder. 

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me!”

 

“Oh relax, I know I’m a terrible kisser.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

This town suddenly doesn’t seem so empty, so desolate, just for a minute while the two of them are laughing. She suddenly doesn’t feel like she’s one breath away from curling up in her bed and never leaving it.

 

Their laughter tapers off, and thankfully, the silence isn’t uncomfortable. 

 

Luz thinks about something for a moment, something that’s been nagging in the back of her brain. She hasn’t wanted to give it much thought, due to its absurdity, but now… 

 

Given everything, all the recent developments, and now this, she thinks that she’s finally ready to give this idea some merit.

 

“Skara.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Something heavy settles in her gut, but the angel pushes on.

 

“I think I want to go home.”

 

Skara turns towards her, and she seems mystified by Luz’s words.

 

“So soon? But you just left? I thought you wanted a break from everyone.”

 

“No… I want to go home.”



Notes:

Luz: ... maybe we should try that again

Skara: yeah, like uhh, multiple trials to collect data

Luz: right! for science!

Skara: yes, for science!

Amity *eyes bloodshot and wearing a tinfoil hat* : hey, what THE FUCK is happening, author??

 

YALLLLLLLLLL SEASON FUCKING TWO IS ANNOUNCED ARE YALLL HYPED OR WHAT

Chapter 17: Care

Notes:

"“It feels like losing.”

That’s some raw shit right there, and I hate how much it just makes sense. Well done. Also, I had to lay on the floor for a while to process this chapter. Mainly one line. I may have cursed you for it, even.

“You’re not her.”

You’re just out here, coming into my house, on my peaceful day of rest, all up in my grill with this level feel? Aight. I see you. And just, “I want to go home.” Ugggghhhhhh that’s a terrible and really good ideaaaaa. Cause like, demons yeah. But also. Returning to the epicenter of your problems to face it head on for closure. Like, very good, very bad, I’m screaming.

“for science.” You got me messed up thinking about Skarluz now.

12/8, screams were above average at 4, the emotions and volume also were on the high side. Well done, lovely chapter. Thank you as always. 💜 "

- the_stars_all_around_us

 

when I bring the pain, I bring the PAIN. and good, I'm glad I got yall thinking about skarluz, because if an author can make you ship two characters that you didn't previously ship before, it's like the highest form of compliment. so, thank you

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fXYDkpfHsk

song for the chapter is dontmakemefallinlove by cuco. very fitting

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Amity’s POV

 

Back home, there’s a sort of somber atmosphere that penetrates the entire place.

 

When did she start thinking of this place as home? When did Earth start to feel more familiar than the Isles?

 

She can barely breathe anymore. It seems like the walls are closing around her, trapping, suffocating, mocking and laughing at her uselessness. Everything is against her.

 

What good is she, appointed resident tracker, if she can’t even find one runaway angel? Her spell had led them into town, then simply sputtered out like a candle flame in strong wind. Luz’s feather had fallen from her palm into the mud below, rich red-brown instantly sullied with dirt. 

 

After that, they were all but on their own, having to ask unhelpful locals if they’d seen the angel anywhere. Not that Amity was doing any of the asking. Not that she was of any use anymore.

 

Had her spell failed because she just wasn’t good enough, or because her heart wasn’t in it? Did she really not care enough, not anymore, to a point where she’d let them flounder about like fish out of water?

 

Did she not care about Luz anymore?

 

The fallen archangel lets out a sigh, finally moving her feet from where they were rooted in the living room, heading towards the solace and privacy of her own room. Amity enters, and shuts the door behind herself with a sense of finality.

 

It would be so easy not to care. So easy, in fact, that she’d nearly convinced herself not to care. Nearly convinced herself that she didn’t care.

 

Yet, she couldn’t forget. No, the memories were too powerful, too violent to do so.



“Next time, watch where you’re going.”



“Will you quit squirming, it’s just me Noceda!”



“Luz, step back.”



“Lu- Angel Noceda helped me see where I was wrong.”



“When I see that woman again, I am going to punch her in the face.”



“I don’t think I can keep training you in good conscience if you keep getting hurt like this.”



“Luz, you have to get out of here! Get out of here, go!”



“I will rip you limb-from-limb if you hurt her.”



Maybe she’s always cared, from the moment she laid eyes on the angel. Maybe it’s impossible to stop caring, when it comes to Luz.

 

Even when Amity was furiously angry at her, she still held her tongue to keep from screaming, because she didn’t want the angel to know how deeply she was suffering. Even when she’d slipped from the roof, she couldn’t help but wonder if Luz would be disappointed in her if she landed at just the wrong angle, snapping her neck. She couldn’t help but wonder if the angel would be upset with her, upset over her broken form.

 

She couldn’t help but care. 

 

The fallen archangel lets out a sigh.

 

Oh, you think you care, do you?

 

You care, you lie and say you care, but how far does the sentiment go, really? Caring didn’t seem to do much when you told her you didn’t love her.

 

Didn’t you see the look on her face?

 

You selfish piece of shit, you say you care, but then lash out and make her hurt in the worst way possible. She ran away because of you, and you can’t even find it in your heart to care enough to find her.

 

Amity is selfish. 

 

I put what I want before the needs of others. And when my wants don’t line up with others, I will always pick myself over them. I have always picked myself. 

 

I picked her to come with me to Earth, not because of any outstanding talents, but because I was curious.

 

I endangered Viney and myself by entering possibly demon infested territory, because I felt a strange attachment to Luz, and I didn’t want to lose this new feeling.

 

I broke Willow and her apart because I was jealous. 

 

I decided to train Luz, not necessarily because I wanted to make her a better fighter, but because I wanted to spend time with her, and figure out what made her tick.

 

Everything she ever wanted, she’s gotten. How proud her parents would be, to see that she became exactly how they wanted her to be. Cold, detached from everything, and selfish.

 

It makes her feel physically ill. 

 

Despite every small rebellion, and every large one, Amity had turned out exactly how they expected. No matter what choices she’d made, her core nature was set in stone, driven into her since she was a child. She could not escape from it.

 

She could not escape from herself.

 

Yet, in the moments they were together, Luz seemed to turn her into something better. Seemed to make her… soft, for lack of a better word. In those precious moments, Amity found herself thinking about what the angel wanted, what the angel needed. Maybe it was still selfish, when she did everything she could to make Luz smile, but it made the both of them feel happy. 

 

Luz had made her happy, undeniably so. And perhaps, she’d made the angel happy as well.

 

So Amity still cared.

 

Even if she didn’t love her, she still cared. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to love the angel, she couldn’t bring herself to stop caring. 

 

She wasn’t ready to fall in love again.

 

She wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable again. 

 

Luz had always made her feel unstable, like she was constantly standing with only one foot on the ground. The angel had rocked her identity to pieces, turned her into an arguably better version of herself. It came with a feeling of helplessness at times, where Amity felt like she wasn’t doing enough.

 

Luz had made her… doubt. Made her unsure of what she wanted.

 

Though, with the angel long gone, she still wasn’t sure of what she wanted. 

 

The fallen archangel felt as if Luz was a comet that had entered her life, a shooting star she didn’t know she’d wished for. She felt as if the angel had slammed into her at terminal velocity, rocking her axis, messing up her orbit. The things that had been so certain suddenly became uncertain.

 

And that was alright. It’d been good.

 

Things may have been uncertain, but they were good. Things had been good, perfect really, for those few golden months.

 

Nothing gold can stay.

 

Here she is now, a flightless, wingless creature, no more special than the billions of humans that milled around this earth aimlessly. Amity no longer had a purpose, had no identity, had no idea what she was going to do for the rest of her life. She had no hopes or dreams, no wishes or wants. 

 

The fallen archangel was just another speck in the cosmos.

 

She was meaningless.

 

She couldn’t even do one good thing, couldn’t even find the heart in herself to bring Luz back. To show that she still cared, and that the others cared as well. Amity couldn’t even find the will to do this one simple thing. 

 

You could, you know.

 

You could just do it, for peace of mind. You could do something that you don’t want, to prove you aren’t so selfish. You could think about others, for once.

 

Look at Camila. That’s her daughter you’d be bringing back. Think of how happy she’d be.

 

Even if you don’t want to see Luz, everyone else does. Maybe you could learn to accept all the terrible things she’s done. Maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive her.

 

She lets out a sigh. 

 

A general isn’t selfish. A general thinks of their people above all.

 

Amity is a far cry from a leader, arguably the weakest out of them both physically and mentally, but she can still do one thing. She can find Luz.

 

Maybe, just maybe, she can also convince the angel to come back home.

 

She stands.

 

Maybe it’s worth a shot, if not for herself, but for everyone else.

 

~~~

 

Amity emerges from the woods, stumbling upon a familiar road. Across it lies the town that they visited before, complete with its rundown buildings and general life-sucking atmosphere. Making sure to look both ways, she crosses the stretch of road without any trouble.

 

The little wooden figurine, shaped crudely like an owl, floats above her palm. As the fallen archangel steps into the field across the road, she closes it in her fist, feeling the magic pulse against her skin.

 

A tugging sensation in her gut directs her towards the center of town, where there will no doubt be an abundance of demons milling around. 

 

She does not permit herself to feel scared. She is no longer an archangel. The demons have no reason to bother her.

 

This is what Amity tells herself, at least.

 

Feigning confidence, she strolls into the town’s limits, figurine clutched tightly in her fist like her life depends on it. It pulls her further into town, past vaguely familiar buildings filled with vaguely familiar people. They stare at her as she passes.

 

Yet, no one makes a move, so Amity continues on.

 

The fallen archangel passes abandoned buildings and run down shops, towards a place that seems more familiar than the rest. It feels like she’s been there before, besides the other day when they came into town.

 

She stops in front of the building, wooden owl thrumming in her fist. 

 

Junior’s, is what the sign above her head reads.

 

A startled laugh makes it past her lips. Amity had been too distracted before to notice the sign, and yet it’s oddly fitting that Luz managed to end up here.

 

History repeats itself, doesn’t it?

 

Her tracking spell isn’t nudging her in any direction, which is odd. Typically, the spell is supposed to lead directly to the person she wants to find.

 

The door opens in front of her, and out of it comes a familiar looking woman with dyed silver curls, muscles taunt in her arms as she carries a crate full of empty bottles around the back. The figurine in her palm goes dead the moment she spots the women, miracle dissipating. 

 

Panic starts to lace her veins.

 

She slips the wooden owl into her pocket, slowly drawing the knife that’s hidden inside her pants.

 

Something is very wrong here. 

 

The woman is oblivious to Amity sneaking up behind her, the clanking of the bottles masking her footsteps. She follows at a distance, knife clutched tight in her fist as the woman rounds the corner and sets down the crate.

 

As she’s leaning back up, just starting to turn around, Amity pounces. The fallen archangel quickly presses the knife against the woman’s throat, letting old instincts take control. As she expected, the woman freezes in place, not daring to move a muscle.

 

“Where is she? What did you do to her?”

 

Her words come out harsh and demanding, while the woman’s eyes only widen.

 

Skara.

 

The name comes back to her as the two of them stare at each other.

 

“Where is Luz?”

 

Skara opens her mouth to speak, glancing down when the knife presses harder against her throat. Those grey eyes shine with fear, but Amity gets a feeling that most of it is for show.

 

“I get what she sees in you, now.”

 

She feels her heart harden, unconsciously. 

 

“Talk.”

 

The woman swallows, knife moving against her skin as she does so.

 

“She left this morning.”

 

“Left where?”

 

Cautiously, Skara moves her arm, not to make a grab for the knife, but to merely point upwards. 

 

Amity’s grip on her arm loses in shock, and the knife blade slides from the woman’s throat. She feels suddenly dizzy, thrown off balance yet again. She feels like her lungs are collapsing.

 

Luz went back to the Isles.

 

Notes:

Amity *internally*: aw shit, here we go again

 

fun times ahead!

Chapter 18: Bones (the barest of things, laid out for you to see)

Summary:

TW: This chapter contains heavy themes and mentions of suicide. While it's not particularly descriptive, please proceed carefully if that bothers you.

Notes:

"Way to fucking overcorrect mittens. Ya stop thinking you hate the love of your life but once again you're the overdramatic self-loathing hot topic emo kid. Stellar progress, honey.

Very good chapter, can't wait to see what comes next."

- TheArtsyBlatherskite

 

Ah, Amity, how I do love to torture her...

maybe I'M the one who should get therapy

 

.... oh well, enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

Luz was living a paradox. The higher she climbed towards heaven, the closer she felt she was getting to hell. It was a funny little thing, where the more her wings beat skyward, the more she felt as if she was falling.

 

Her life had always been paradoxical, though. This was just the cherry on top of the cake.

 

The sun shone brightly on her face, wind rippling through her hair in a way the angel had not felt for months. Luz had always felt totally in control when she was flying, unstoppable, indestructible, careless and free. Yet, there was nothing enjoyable about this particular flight, and she certainly did not feel free.

 

It was as if chains were weighing her down, tethered to her ankles and wrists, ceaselessly preventing her from continuing on this suicide mission.

 

There was a lead weight sitting in the pit of her stomach, a never ending reminder of exactly what the angel was doing, of what she was leaving behind.

 

Of who she was leaving behind.

 

The whole thing felt very final, in a way. Her last hurrah. Her last stand. No matter what ended up happening, things would change forever.

 

Luz had left hastily, despite Skara’s protests and offerings to accompany her, left with no real plan in mind. She’d been trying to figure out something on the flight up, but she was never the best at making plans. Or thinking things through, really.

 

The angel had come up with the barest scraps of a plan so far, a final mission to destroy the waypoint so no more demons could make their way to Isles.

 

She would reverse what she’d caused, or die trying. That was her half-baked plan, at least.

 

Really, Luz didn’t mind dying. That small truth was keeping her from turning around right now, flying straight into her mother’s arms, and staying there forever. She didn’t mind dying, as long as it was worth something.

 

As long as everyone could go home, she would be okay. She would be content.

 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best mindset, to be so alright with the idea of oneself dying, but that’s where Luz was at the moment. She wanted her life to be worth something, so angels in generations to come would think “Well, Angel Noceda may have caused the invasion, but at least she fixed it in the end!”.

 

It’s what a hero would do. Even if I’m the furthest cry from a hero.

 

Redemption through martyrdom. That’s what she was aiming for at this point.

 

So no, Luz didn’t really mind dying, as long as it wasn’t by her own hand. Which is precisely what would’ve happened if she’d stayed on Earth any longer, wallowing in the stench of her own self pity.

 

The angel smiles bitterly to herself, just for a short moment.

 

Wouldn’t you be proud of me, Mami, if you could see me now? Finally out of bed.

 

Though, she’s sure her mother would drag her home by the ear and give her more than a stern talking to about rash decisions. 

 

Luz has been living her whole life through rash decisions. Why stop now?

 

Then, she feels it. A slight change in the air, a shudder that runs down her spine, a final warning that she’s just passed through the magical barrier that keeps airplanes and other human craft away from the Isles. She should be seeing the first islands shortly.

 

And soon she does, a small, floating mound of rock and grass just in the distance. As Luz grows closer, more and more islands pop into view. Before long, the familiar golden gates appear, gleaming brightly in the strong sun.

 

They seem smaller than she remembers. 

 

Her heart thunders in her throat, and she can barely gather the courage to fly any closer. The only thing keeping her going is the fact that she doesn’t see any demons, at least not yet.

 

Luz brings a hand to her hip to draw her sword, but grasps nothing. When she glances at her side, the angel sees no belt, no sheath, no nothing.

 

She’s forgotten to bring her sword.

 

Oh, heavens. I might be the Isles’s biggest idiot!

 

She’s forgotten to bring a weapon, or literally anything else that she could use to protect herself.

 

Luz feels like laughing.

 

Oh, I’m a goner.

 

Strangely, she feels okay with the fact. It’s like she just signed her own death certificate, willingly, using her own blood as the ink. Yet, the angel flies on.

 

Her feet touch down softly in front of the gates, shoes sinking into the overgrown grass. She still does not see anyone, no sign of movement other than the rapid rise and fall of her own chest. Luz forces herself to stop, to breath and think for just a second.

 

Okay. 

 

After a minute, she rests her palm on the gate, feeling the heat from the sun-softened gold spread to her fingers. She pushes forward, just a little, and is surprised when the gate moves away from her with nothing more than a low creak.

 

The angel pushes harder, and it swings open completely, neglected hinges groaning their protest.

 

Luz glances around, half expecting demons to jump her from nowhere, but nothing happens. Nothing is out of the ordinary, except that the place feels utterly abandoned.

 

She can barely draw a deep enough breath, it feels like.

 

Her heart is still beating too fast.

 

What Luz doesn’t see, as she moves tentatively through the gates, are the guards who are still watching. Still watching from their place on the ground, hidden by the grass, empty eye sockets seeming to follow her movement. 

 

Their winged skeletons are still watching, silently welcoming her home.

 

~~~

 

She flies short jumps from island to island, uneasiness growing with the ever present emptiness that she seems to find. There’s simply… nothing.

 

Absolutely nothing.

 

The islands themselves are wild and overgrown, charred and burnt away in some places where fires must have spread. Besides that, there’s nothing. No signs of life, no major wreckage like she was expecting.

 

Some of the buildings are burnt, but Luz hasn’t encountered anything that looked like it was torn apart on purpose. Most of the structures actually look… whole. Like it was a place people could still live in.

 

What’s concerning to her is the absolute, utter lack of anyone. She hasn’t spotted a single demon, nor any angel stragglers. There’s simply… no one.

 

Luz grips the spear that she found abandoned on the ground tighter in her fist. While it’s not her preferred weapon, it’s much better than nothing. Holding it gives her a small sense of comfort, like she’s not completely hopeless, not completely alone. It reminds her that she came here to do something.

 

Feeling just a bit of courage in her heart, the angel takes off again, towards Belos’s castle. 

 

For the first time since she landed back on the Isles, Luz allows herself to hope. To want. 

 

Maybe I don’t want to die.

 

Maybe… I can allow myself to want things again, after all of this is over.

 

She still does not see the skulls, bleached white by the sun, grinning up at her.

 

~~~

 

Luz glides towards the massive castle, an imposing figure of pure white marble that is blinding to look at. It is the physical symbol of all things pure and good that angelkind was supposed to represent, before it was poisoned from the inside out. The demons only hastened matters.

 

She knows exactly which island the waypoint is hidden on, no matter how nondescript it is. The place is burned into her memories by weeks upon weeks of nightmares, taunting her for her actions. She can see the very tree where the waypoint is buried under, if she closes her eyes.

 

The angel still feels a prickling on the back of her neck, the sensation present ever since she crossed the barrier. It refuses to die down, this unwavering sense of wrongness that plagues her.

 

Yet, Luz presses on.

 

She lands upon the island, on high alert, but nothing moves as far as she can see. Her footsteps crackle on dried leaves, and it sounds like thunder in the silence.

 

The place does look slightly different than in her dreams, ground now trampled by the thousands of feet that must’ve moved over this same spot. Now, there’s a faint path that inevitably leads to the waypoint.

 

Still, nothing. Not even the breaking of a twig that isn’t caused by her footfall.

 

Luz follows the path, slowly, carefully, listening for anything. In barely any time at all, she finds the tree.

 

It’s remarkably unchanged, besides the various things now carved into its trunk. As she moves closer, she can see rude words and drawings and things that say “So and so was here”. Still, the area looks rather untouched, something that she hadn’t expected from demons.

 

Perhaps they were too eager to rip other things apart that they didn’t bother with the tree.

 

The angel takes a tentative step forward, then another, then another, eyes firmly fixed on the base of the tree. She keeps taking small, hesitant steps, until she finally reaches it. Luz kneels down, still ever so careful, and brushes dirt and leaves away from the roots.

 

There, the little stone pulses with energy, just as pristine as the day she left it. 

 

It seems so innocent, tucked away in that hollow, so harmless.

 

And really, it is harmless. The waypoint has no malice, only the people that put it to use. It is little more than a means of getting from one place to another. It is only a tool.

 

Luz picks it up, and weighs it in her palm. The stone is still unnaturally heavy, edges still sharp to the point where the weight causes them to bite into her hand.

 

She’s not quite sure how to destroy it, or if it can even be destroyed. It’s too strong for her to break it herself, and Luz is certain that throwing it off the edge won’t do any good.

 

Instead, the angel looks around for a large, flat rock.

 

Might as well try smashing it.

 

Luz tucks the waypoint into her pocket, praying that no one tries to use it while it’s there. She scans the ground for a suitable stone, casting her eyes around the small clearing. Spotting something that seems as if it might work, the angel hurries over, struck with the sudden urge to get this over with and leave. 

 

She grabs the rock, which is flat enough on one side, and hunts for one that might be heavy enough to use as a hammer. Thankfully, there seems to be no shortage of stones around here, and she finds one quickly enough.

 

Luz kneels down again, setting down the flat rock to use as an anvil, and pulls the waypoint from her pocket. She gingerly sets it upon the stone, and positions her hammer-rock above it.

 

The angel brings down the rock, and nothing happens.

 

Gritting her teeth, she gets a better grip on the stone, adjusting the angle. She hits the waypoint with as much force as she can muster, and this time, Luz hears a crack.

 

Heart thumping, she tosses her makeshift hammer aside, leaning down to peer at the waypoint.

 

Down its center runs a long split, cracking the runes inscribed on it in two. The small stone is no longer pulsing with energy.

 

The angel rocks back on her heels and looks skyward, letting out a long sigh. It feels as if the Isles are sighing with her.

 

It’s done.

 

It’s over.

 

Luz feels a certain calm rush through her, slowing her heart down, her lungs finally feeling like they can draw enough air. She feels the tension drain from her body, knowing that no matter what happened now, her mission was over.

 

She succeeded. 

 

The calm fades after a short while, so the angel stands, grabbing the borrowed spear from where it rests next to her.

 

In an almost haze like stupor, Luz walks away from the tree, away from the now useless waypoint. She makes her way through the small forest, towards the edge of the island, where trees give away to shrubbery and tall grass.

 

The sky seems so wide, so open.

 

She moves towards the edge, until she steps on something, shoe breaking it underfoot with an ear splitting crunch. Luz looks down, and sees a pearly white skull staring back up at her with empty eye sockets, her foot where its mouth would be.

 

The angel stifles a strangled scream behind her hand as she leaps back, frantically shaking her foot to remove the skull. The calm is all but gone, replaced but primal panic as her fears return full swing.

 

Suddenly, as she whips her head around, all Luz can see are bones. Hundreds, maybe thousands of bright white bones peak through the grass, belonging to dozens of skeletons. All she can see are those bones.

 

No matter which way she turns, she can see the remnants of death everywhere.

 

In her haste to destroy the waypoint, in her fear of being found by demons, she’d nearly forgotten that the Isles had turned into a mass graveyard for her kind.

 

The evidence of the slaughter was in every direction Luz looked.

 

I…

 

She can barely think, overwhelming guilt clawing at her stomach, reaching its way up until it grabbed at her throat, forcing her breaths to come quick and shallow.

 

Murderer.

 

She had killed them all. Every last one.

 

The hands only tightened their grip on Luz’s throat, unyielding, unforgiving, uncompassionate. 

 

Her knees gave out, and she felt herself gasping for air as tears welled up and eventually flowed freely down her face. She could not think, and her grip on the spear was so tight her knuckles were turning white.

 

The angel slowly cast her eyes down to the weapon, and without a thought, moved it so the point rested at the hollow of her throat.

 

Murderer.

 

Luz had done… so much wrong. She could not atone for her sins. She could not atone for the thousands of lives she’d taken.

 

She couldn’t…

 

She couldn’t even bow her head to mourn her fallen brethren without taking her own life. She did not deserve the right to mourn them.

 

The day was warm, the sun beat down on the back of her neck, yet the spearpoint resting at her throat seemed ice cold. Luz couldn’t even find the courage, the will to do it. She couldn’t find the strength to move the spear away.

 

She couldn’t.

 

Don’t.

 

The angel raised her eyes ever so slightly, hearing a voice that didn’t quite sound like the one in her head.

 

There’s been enough death here.

 

It wasn’t her own inner voice.

 

It sounded… like the wind. Like the breeze that fluttered past her, like the wide blue sky, like the scorching sun. Like the very ground beneath her feet. 

 

Something primal, something old.

 

Don’t.

 

It was if the Isles were speaking to her, ancient magic that she could hear clear as day.

 

Luz grit her teeth, tears flowing unbidden, tossed the spear as far away as she could. All the tension in her shoulders released the moment she did so, and she felt as if she could draw breath again.

 

The island beneath her seemed to exhale.

 

The angel felt all the strength drain from her body, everything draining into the ground below. She crumpled to the ground, forehead resting on the dirt, and she cried.

 

She cried, little noises of grief escaping her every so often.

 

Luz cried, mourning the ones who were unable to accept her silent apology, unable to voice their forgiveness.

 

She let go, and she cried for the dead.

 

~~~

 

Amity’s POV

 

She’d never felt quite so hopeless in her life.

 

The only thing that separated Luz and her was the miles of sky she could no longer cross, and all the things that had been left unspoken between the two of them.

 

She’d never felt so utterly, completely useless.

 

A plate of untouched food and glasses of water rested on the table beside her, left there by Skara, who seemed to find the need to keep bringing her things no matter how much Amity refused.

 

She was strangely touched by the demon’s gestures of simple kindness, yet her stomach was churning too much to eat or drink. 

 

She couldn’t help but worry for Luz, and it was twisting her up into knots.

 

Stupid, idiotic, brainless, boneheaded angel!

 

No matter how many expletives she assigned to Luz’s actions, it wouldn’t bring her back. It wouldn’t deliver her safely home. Yet, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t fly up there and drag her back down to Earth, as much as she wanted to.

 

Amity hated feeling like she was powerless.

 

The fallen archangel couldn’t help shake the feeling that Luz had only gone back to the Isles to die. Skara had said that the angel left with no plan and a few hasty goodbyes, and that didn’t exactly instill confidence in Luz’s actions.

 

So now, Amity was stuck waiting in the angel’s hotel room, uselessly fretting. Like a friend would. Like… a partner would.

 

She still cares, after all these months. Maybe it’s okay to care.

 

The sun arcs lazily across the sky, nerves mounting as the hours tick by. She’s not sure why she’s waiting like this. There’s no guarantee that Luz will come back today, if she comes back at all.

 

She clenches her jaw.

 

Amity refuses to think about that.

 

She swears that she's wearing a hole in the floor from her alternating pacing and sitting back down once she wears herself out. The fallen archangel is exhausted, lack of sleep evident in her movements and the purple under her eyes. She has a headache, and can barely think, but sleep is something that will not come to her right now.

 

Please.

 

Stop doing this. Come back.

 

Amity hates the way she’s practically begging internally, but there’s nothing else she can do.

 

There’s absolutely nothing.

 

So she waits.

 

Sunset comes, washing the cloudless blue day with oranges and reds and pinks, something she might’ve enjoyed seeing had she not felt so miserable. The sunset fades away quickly into night, and the stars come out.

 

They twinkle merrily, unbothered by anything.

 

By now, she is fighting to keep her eyes open. She tries to stop from nodding off, but the exhaustion is weighing so heavily on her, weariness catching up, that Amity cannot help it.

 

Her head lolls to the side, arm hanging off the side of her chair. 

 

Asleep, the fallen archangel can’t tell how much time has passed, and she does not dream. The moon follows the same path as the sun, light filtering through the shades that have not been bothered to be closed. For the time being, the hotel is quiet.

 

Amity jolts awake suddenly, and immediately searches around the room for a clock. The digital one on the nightstand by the bed reads 2:21am. She groans, running a hand through her sleep mussed hair.

 

A movement just outside the window catches her eye, but she’s still so groggy that it barely registers in her brain. She dismisses it as a falling leaf, or something else.

 

It’s too late to be awake.

 

Nevertheless, the fallen archangel tries to keep her eyes open just a bit longer, chiding herself for falling asleep. There’s a groaning of wood from below her, but the building is old, and she’s got used to random creaks from the Owl House. Amity thinks nothing of it.

 

What she does sit up at, nearly a minute later, is the telltale sound of footsteps on wooden floors, moving towards her room. The fallen archangel feels her heart speed up, pulse hammering at the scrap of a key in the lock that she already knows is open.

 

The person seems to figure that out too, from the way they pause before opening the door.

 

Amity stands just as Luz is walking in.

 

Their eyes meet, brown eyes that are puffy from crying staring into bloodshot golden ones. For a moment, they can do nothing but stare at each other.

 

In the seconds that pass, Amity is drinking in every bit of the angel’s face, recommitting it to memory, her features having faded after months of not speaking to one another. She can’t say anything, the lump in her throat refusing to go away even after she swallows several times.

 

The thing she notices is that despite how haggard Luz looks, she doesn’t seem lost anymore. The few times they’d spoken, Amity always noticed that the angel looked like a baby animal, suddenly torn away from its mother. Lost and helpless.

 

Now, even looking like hell frozen over and then thawed, Luz no longer seems lost. The confusion, the emptiness from her eyes is gone. 

 

Those brown eyes hold the beginning of sparks.

 

Wordlessly, the angel holds open her arms, an invitation. She finds herself stumbling forward, wrapping her own arms around Luz, burying her face into her shoulder. Strong hands rub comforting circles as she clutches at the angel’s shirt, trying to remember what it felt like to be held. It’s different without her wings.

 

The two of them just stay like that, melting into another, swaying slightly from side to side.

 

They don’t say anything.

 

They don’t need to.

 

Fin.

 

Notes:

Amity: I wonder what Luz is up to

Luz *crying*: oh Mr. Bones, Mr. Bones, i'm so sorry I killed your family! oh Mr. Bones, won't you forgive me?

 

✌️ goodnight gay people i will read your comments yelling at me in the morning

Chapter 19: Epilogue

Notes:

"LIZ LIZ LI ZIIOhveiohgnFUCK IM NO OKAY AFTER THAT im crying im litterly crying liz i have tears coming out of my fucking eye sockets i was thinking before i realized that this is the last chapter and i was like 'to fix their realstionship, they need to have one long ass conversation about everything, then build up slowly from there.' BUT LIZ; ENDING WITH THEM STARING AT EACHOTHER IS NOT A CONVERSATION. im in pain oh god oh my GOD. thank you for writing this entire thing and the first entire thing but OHOHOH you really have like way too many people sobbing and screaming what the fuck right now /pos"

- h3lp_lol

 

I LOVE THESE KINDS OF REACTIONS I SWEAR, just incomprehensible screeching. love it. love writing for this reason. AND THANK YOU ALL FOR STICKING BY ME THROUGH THIS, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!!

 

hehe anyway I lied so here's the last chapter :D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz’s POV

 

She’s watching her daughter tear through birthday gifts with that unique childhood excitement, where everything is new and good and wonderful. Amity is sitting next to Luz on the couch, holding her hand. She squeezes once, and her wife squeezes back, a wearing small smile as she doesn’t take her eyes off the girl. Luz calls out to her.

 

“Aurora, cariño, take your time! You only have one birthday a year!”

 

Her daughter pauses momentarily in her excavation of the gifts littered at her feet to smile back at her with a gap-toothed grin. 

 

“Yes, but… why can’t I have more than one birthday? It takes so long for each one to happen!”

 

Amity chuckles.

 

“That’s how birthdays work, ‘Rora. You turn that age once a year, so you get to celebrate once a year.”

 

The girl sits down heavily and pouts, kicking her legs out in front of her. She adopts that expression that Luz is so familiar with, one of deep thought, one that she sees on the fallen archangel next to her all the time. Her heart aches with happiness at the similarities between her and Amity, not just that they share the same eyes and pointed ears.

 

“Well… If I’m six for the whole year… then I should get six presents everyday until I turn seven!”

 

Aurora looks quite pleased with herself at that, and she can’t help but laugh. Her wife leans over to whisper something in her ear.

 

“Careful there, we’ve got ourselves a shrewd negotiator. You better watch what you say!”

 

Luz slaps her lightly on the arm, leaning forwards and looking at her daughter with semi-feigned seriousness.

 

“How about not six presents everyday, since we’d be swimming in things… but how about we get you six more things on your half birthday? Sounds fair?”

 

The girl brightens at the idea, and promptly runs over and leaps onto her lap. Luz lets out an oof, but wraps her arms around Aurora all the same. 

 

“Oh, thank you Mami!”

 

She hugs her tightly, for a few moments, taking the time to cherish this before her daughter becomes “too old” for hugs. Already, Luz feels as if it was just a blink of an eye since they’d had her, and she was just a baby. Then, the years passed too quickly, and they’d had August, and now he was already four. So, she took the time to hug her daughter, for a few extra seconds before the little angel pulled away. 

 

“Now go on, wake up your brother before everyone else gets here. Good heavens, it’s already ten.”

 

Aurora runs, still beaming, out of the living room, yelling for August to get up. She looks over and finds Amity still laughing a little, practically glowing with fondness. Luz’s heart warms at the sight, but she cocks an eyebrow.

 

“And what, pray tell, do you find so funny?”

 

The fallen archangel gives one last chuckle and shifts so that her chin is resting on her palm.

 

“That girl is going to be so spoiled when she grows up. You’ve practically promised her two birthdays, and you know that’s probably going to become a yearly thing! August is going to be livid when he finds out.”

 

She shrugs noncommittally.

 

“I guess we’ll just have to give him birthday presents on his half birthday as well! To make it fair.”

 

Amity scoffs, but it’s half-hearted at best. She only leans over and takes her wife’s hand again, rubbing circles over her knuckles. The fallen archangel instantly softens under Luz’s touch, all traces of indignation long gone. Just then, Aurora comes back, dragging her still half asleep brother along. The boy yawns, looking rather upset at being woken up.

 

“I’m tired! And it’s not my birthday, so can I go back to bed?”

 

He waddles over to the couch, still tangled in his blanket, and manages to climb up. Sighing, her wife pulls him into her lap, stroking his auburn curls.

 

“No, sweetheart, everyone is already on their way here, and I’m sure they’re very excited to see you.”

 

The boy huffs, his eyes already closing again. Aurora notices and starts to tug the blanket away from him, and he weakly bats his sister away with one hand, but the blanket still ends up being stolen regardless.

 

“Come on, Auggie! Aunt Willow and Aunt Boscha and Cousin Olive will be coming, as well as Abuela and Aunt Viney and Aunt Emira and Uncle Edric!”

 

Luz pipes in as well.

 

“Don’t forget about King, Eda, and Uncle Gus. I’m sure the three of them would be more than happy to teach you some more magic tricks.”

 

This time, Amity is the one who slaps her, and she rubs her arm in mock protest.

 

“No more pranks! You aren’t the one who has to clean up the magical paint I find around the house, and I’m fairly certain Eda wants to teach him Hexes Hold ‘Em. I will not have our son addicted to gambling!”

 

August perks up a little, looking at Luz with bright eyes.

 

“Uncle Gus is coming?! Why didn’t you just say so?”

 

She laughs, partly because of him, mostly because Amity now has her face buried in her hands, and is shaking her head dejectedly. 

 

“Well, now that you’re awake, why don’t you go get dressed before you give your momma an aneurysm?”

 

He promptly jumps down from the couch, looking much more excited than before.

 

“What’s an an-eur-y-sm? And what’s Hexes Hold ‘Em?”

 

Luz just pats those practically irresistible curls of his with a smile.

 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Now go on.”

 

August pouts, but runs back to his room regardless. Aurora looks rather smug, still holding his blanket like a trophy until Amity gives her a look, and she follows in her brother’s footsteps to get changed as well. 

 

They both let out a sigh.

 

Luz stands, grabbing the wrapping paper and bags left abandoned by Aurora’s haste, gathering up all the trash and bringing it to the kitchen. She’s just closed the lid on the trash can when Amity speaks.

 

“I can’t believe she’s six already.”

 

She turns back around, and is surprised to find that her wife wears a sad expression, sorrow even in her eyes. Luz frowns.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Amity looks up, and manages a small smile.

 

“It’s just that… I guess I’m upset that she’s going to be leaving soon.”

 

She makes her way back into the living room, and sits down next to the fallen archangel. Amity leans into her side, quiet.

 

“What do you mean, leaving soon?”

 

She looks at Luz, somewhat puzzled.

 

“For school, of course. We can’t send her to school here, her wings have already started growing in. She needs a proper education, Luz.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

The two of them sit in silence for a moment, letting their shared warmth sink in and envelope each other. Truth be told, she hadn’t even started thinking about Aurora’s education, even though the time to do so had already long passed. Most young angels were enrolled in school by the time they turned six, and well… here that day was.

 

“We probably should talk about that with her.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Since Amity could no longer fly, the two of them had settled down in a house here on Earth, deep in the forest, away from most things. Eda and King still stayed at the Owl House, and Willow, Boscha, and their daughter Olive had a place not too far from them. Her mother and the rest of them had returned to the Isles after reconstruction had been finished. 

 

It was quite a journey from their house to Isles, especially for young wings, and Luz knew that once Aurora was on the Isles, she wouldn’t be coming home all that often.

 

That was just one of the things she didn’t like thinking about. Her little birds growing up and leaving the nest, just like everyone else. 

 

Amity must’ve sensed her change in mood, because she wrapped an arm around Luz’s shoulders and held her tight, as if to fight off of some of the loneliness. 

 

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Think of it this way, we get to smother August with all of our love and attention, like we did with Aurora when she was a baby. He’ll be so sick of it, he won’t be able to wait until he can go to school as well!”

 

Luz laughs at that, and she has to say, she does feel a little better now. 

 

“How do you always know what to say? It’s amazing.”

 

Her wife rubs a comforting hand up and down her arm.

 

“Maybe because I know you so well. I would hope so, after all these years.”

 

She chuckles.

 

“Maybe.”

 

It feels like a new era of their lives is beginning. They were moving away from doting on and mothering their children, and are now starting to let them grow and learn independently. Well, maybe not August, but his turn would come in the blink of an eye.

 

Luz doesn’t know what she’s going to do once the two of them are out of the house. She might actually get to uphold that promise of Friday night dates with Amity.

 

Whatever the case is, she knows that they’re going to be alright. That’s how they just are. They overcome obstacles and challenges and things that make them want to cry and scream, but she knows things are going to be alright.

 

This was just another new phase of their lives, like the many that had come before.

 

And Luz knows, as long as the two of them are together, they can make it work.

 

It's just what they do. It’s just how they are.

 

Forever. 

 

And that, is a promise I will never break.



Notes:

I don't even even have a meme for y'all because the fluff was so sweet it stole all my shitty humor. you are welcome

 

SEE I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A HAPPY ENDING!!! who lies? not me

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