A/N: Hi! It's finally AYEH time again!

I stare down at the list on my lap, scowling and tapping my cheek as I try to think up anything that I might have missed. I'm not sure how much more progress I'm going to make on it, though. It's a bit of an eclectic group already. 

Slapstick comedy

Product/Safety Testing

The Scientific Method

Umpires??? Maybe???

Maybe I'm still a little tired. There's probably a bunch of obvious stuff I haven't even thought of. Anastasia wanted to go flying after getting her wings, and of course she wanted me to come with her, so she, Maria, and I all flew around with a couple members of her council for like… an entire day. I'm almost glad to be back in the van, once again on the road to our next destination. 

"Julietta, what the hell are you doing?" Emily asks, leaning over to glance at what I'm writing.

"Oh, it's a list of things that Failure worshippers might like about human culture that would also be a net positive to actually perform," I answer. "Failure is an important part of life, after all, and there are a lot of important jobs centered around trying to get things to fail so people know where those things ought to be improved. If we play our cards right, they could be a pretty major force for good."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that question," Emily says. "Why are you staring at a disembodied strip of skin?"

Hmm? Oh.

"I don't have a pen," I answer. "Or paper, for that matter. This is easier anyway. The skin is currently still alive, so I can just change its pigmentation with my power in order to write on it."

"Write on… oh my god those are words. Oh that's gross. It's like you cut off someone's tattoo!"

"Julietta, are you being a creepy flesh monster back there?" Peter calls out from the front seat. "Don't make me turn this van around!"

"Hey, don't be rude," Christine insists. "It's not like she can stop being a creepy flesh monster. You're holding her to an unreasonable standard."

"Besides, 'flesh monster' is trending nowadays," Maria chimes in. "You're the odd man out, Peter. Join the tentacle hair club."

"Y'know, I can't help but be curious," Peter says. "Did you make your pubes wiggly too, or are you just—mmrph!"

"Not in front of Ana," I warn, holding him still for a moment before mentally releasing my power's hold on his jaw muscles.

"Also, you've literally seen me naked, you know the answer to that," Maria points out.

"I've glanced at you naked. It wouldn't be polite to stare, and I am a gentleman," Peter says. "Also, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate would kill me. I choose life."

"Objection. I would not kill you," I answer. "If A Prism of Refracting Selves does not want you to stare at her reverent form, she is perfectly capable of killing you herself."

"Lamentations. Somewhere along the line, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate has infected me with her propensity for uncovered states," Maria says. "I have become an unwilling deviant. Blood Returns Wrath and Love, do not learn from our example."

"Oh! What if I just wear blood?" Ana ponders. "It's not see-through, and it'll even be really effective armor because of my powers!"

"Ana, you like your clothes, right? You said they're cute," I say, transitioning back to verbal communication to try and nip this in the bud. I'm not going to raise my kid to be a nudist. I'm not even a nudist! I'm just… naked a lot because of my powers. If that's a choice Ana wants to make, well, she can do that when she's an adult.

"It is important to be cute…" Ana agrees thoughtfully. "I guess I can just use blood as an underlayer. Hidden secret armor!"

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I concede.

"I swear, something about getting an alien brain makes people lose all sense of shame," Emily grumbles. "If I ever get like that, just shoot me."

"I hope I get like that," Christine says. "Shame sucks. I've been ashamed of myself my whole life. I could use a change of pace."

"Clothes very weird," Blossom agrees. "You make them up and then say it bad when made up thing not used by everyone always? Stupid."

"There are a lot of reasons clothing is important to human culture, thank you," I protest. "It's not just some arbitrary thing. But we are getting somewhat off-topic. We have a Failure colony to negotiate with. I want to make sure that's as productive as it can be. Blossom, am I wrong to assume that even a Failure colony will be less likely to intentionally screw us over as long as they like us?"

"Hrm. Depend on why they like you," Blossom says. "But the method you thinking of should be productive, yes."

"Great," I say. "I know you don't like talking about your old colony much, but any insight you might have would be invaluable, Blossom. Especially as we get closer."

Blossom groans, leaning back as far as she can in her seat—which is, admittedly, not very far. 

"It been long time," she admits. "I chosen by Possibility since before come to this world. I no idea what colony thinks of humans. No idea at all."

"Do you have a guess, at least?" I ask.

Blossom scrunches in on herself a bit, her mind churning with painful memories, flash after flash of pain, both self-inflicted and otherwise. She hated herself, back then. She hated almost everything.

"My colony's worship of Failure was… perverse," Blossom says. "Wrong. But maybe that only make the worship better, in the end. Best just to hope we get other colony."

"Well, I guess we're about to find out," Peter says. "I think that's a Queen up ahead. Feel anything, Emily?"

Emily leans past me, looking between the front seats through the windshield.

"Ugh," she groans. "Yeah. This is the right direction, so… that one's probably mine."

I glance out the front myself, and… well, I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Where are we, again?" I ask. "Nebraska?"

"I think so, yeah," Peter confirms. "Pretty sure that's the capital in front of us. Or like, where the capital used to be. Lincoln, Nebraska."

'Where the capital used to be.' Yeah, that's a good descriptor. Most of the Queens we've seen have smashed on top of or draped themselves across the cities they've conquered, flattening quite a bit of city but leaving it still largely recognizable, if somewhat broken. But in front of us, we barely see a city at all. We can see the suburbs, the signs that a city most likely was here, but we can't see the city itself. The Queen has wrapped around it like kudzu, interwoven strands of flesh building a large, circular wall surrounding where the city supposedly should be. Yet even that is hard to see; something messes with our vision, shifting and playing with the sight before us, parts of it flickering in and out of visibility like stains on a reel of film.

"Fear. Panic. Disbelief. Expletives. There must be dozens of Failure colonies on this planet by now…!"

"Blossom?" I say, Maria and Ana looking her way as well.

"Yeah, that figures," Emily sighs, returning to her seat. "Don't know what I expected."

"Revulsion. Your assumption is correct. This is the Queen I was born from. A Web of Squirming Hopes. Are we entirely sure this is the right place?"

"Emily?" I ask. "This is it, right?"

"Of course this is it," she says dismissively. "When has anything gone right in my life?"

"We just skip this one," Blossom nearly begs. "Better off without."

"We're not, unfortunately," Emily says. "Sorry honey, it's only right that I meet the in-laws."

"This bad time for funny!" Blossom snaps. "Besides, they more your family than mine. Almost died escaping them. I needed new home. Everyone here wanted me to fail."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt I'm going to get along with them that much better than you," Emily sighs. "They probably aren't going to kill me, at least, but that doesn't mean they can't make me wish I was dead."

"Blossom, if things go bad, can we fight our way out?" I ask. "I assume you know the powers of everyone in the council, right?"

"Assuming no new members? Yes," Blossom confirms. "We very dangerous. Could maybe kill them all. Oh. New plan. Let's kill them all."

"We're on a diplomatic mission, Blossom," I remind her.

"Lots of diplomatic mission become war," Blossom points out. "If not, not much use for diplomats. Could just get any old idiot."

"No," Anastasia insists. "If I have to forgive a mean colony, you do too. We have to at least try. If they're big jerks anyway, then we can kill them."

"What if just kill a little bit?" Blossom pouts. "As a treat?"

"Only if you're good," Anastasia says.

"Deal," Blossom agrees. "But I do think this mistake. Bad place. Not help us."

"Even with me as such a pretty little bargaining chip?" Emily deadpans.

"They definitely want you," Blossom says. "But they want us not to have you just as much. Sick in head, all of them."

"Most of you aliens don't have heads," Peter points out.

"Sick in ass, too," Blossom answers. "And everywhere else."

"Sounds like I'll fit right in then," Emily says. "One way or another, it's where my power says we should go. Whether that's because we make an alliance with them or because you go full movie-monster slasher villain on their asses, I don't know and I don't particularly care. Let's not overcomplicate this. If you don't think we're going to lose, there's no reason not to aim for the win."

"Hrm. Very devout of you," Blossom comments.

"What, the fact that I intend to succeed?"

"The fact that you intend to make them fail," Blossom answers. "That always the problem with them. It all they want, too. And if it come down to it, they always rather make everyone fail than let everyone win."

"So what you're saying," I cut in, "is that we shouldn't try to get everyone to win. This is, in fact, the one negotiation where we should be actively trying to screw them."

Blossom laughs.

"Yes," she says.

"No," she thinks. "But if it will get you to do it, I would be quite grateful. It has been many years since Possibility blessed me with the strength to make my escape, but despite all of the love I have learned, I have never once managed to let go of my hate."

Well. I suppose if it's a request from my fellow council member, I should at least consider it. Blossom was willing to move heaven and earth for my problems, I suppose it's fair if I do the same for her grudges. I'm not really sure how to accomplish that, though.

"We'll play it by ear, then," I say. "I don't want to discount Anastasia's point that we should at least try to do it the right way before getting violent, because she's absolutely right about that. But of course, at the same time, we should take Blossom's experiences very seriously. Stay on your toes, everyone. We should assume this is much more hostile territory than before."

"I'll be sure to keep the van intact," Peter says flatly.

"I wish we still had our guns," Anastasia pouts.

"We are the guns," Christine says. "Especially after all those pull-ups they made me do. Ugh."

"Didn't Julietta like, remake all your muscles from first principles or some shit?" Peter asks. "Whatever biceps you're trying to flex in my rearview mirror are not the result of pull-ups."

"True, but they're still hot," Christine counters.

"Okay, seriously though, we should focus," Emily says. "In fact… pull over before we get into the Queen's domain. We'll walk the rest of the way in."

"Why?" Peter asks.

"I don't fucking know dude, have you not figured out how my shit works yet? Just do it. Don't ask questions."

"Fine, fine."

We drive a bit further before Peter pulls over, letting me eat the van so we can continue the rest of the way without worrying about it. We're close now, close enough that we're probably going to be meeting a member of the colony soon. There's no way no one saw us. Vans like ours aren't particularly stealthy, especially when all of the humans in a hundred miles are long dead. 

"Request: designation and purpose." 

And there we are.

"This unit's designation is Twisting Scars Reshape Fate."

"This unit's designation is Confidence is Apotheosis."

"This unit's designation is A Prism of Refracting Selves."

"This unit's designation is Blood Returns Wrath and Love."

"…This unit's designation is A Blossom of Wilted Chances."

"The other two members of our group are incapable of communicating with the network. One of them is a member of your council. We are here on a mission to deliver them safely to you and instruct your Queen on methods of granting them a reverent form that will not result in their insanity, due to incompatible biology with the Grand Queen's designs."

"Astonishment. Comprehension. Report delivered to council. Waiting for response… Response received. Entry permitted. You may approach."

"Acknowledgement. Approaching."

We continue walking, various Raptors watching us from behind trees and shrubs as we approach the suburbs, then from between abandoned houses once we reach them. None of them get close. There's an undercurrent of fear from almost every one of them, the caution born of someone who understands any mistake could lead to punishment and any action could lead to a mistake.

"Command: escort," an Angel from deeper within the colony orders, and several of the Raptors shift out of hiding to flank us on either side, silently guiding us down the streets. 

Blossom watches them carefully, a mixture of pity, familiarity, and caution all warring with each other within her.

"Are we in danger yet?" I ask her out loud.

"Absolutely," Blossom answers. "But not about to be attacked."

Well, that'll have to be good enough for now. Personally, I'm most interested in the designs of the Raptors escorting us. Externally, they're relatively bog-standard as aliens go; no major visible deviations from the norm like the extra-long blades on Division's worshippers. Instead, the dedication to Failure has been marked on the inside. Raptors from a given colony are all more or less genetically identical to one another; same with Wasps, Behemoths, Leviathans, and so on. So usually, there's not much difference… except, of course, in age.

I don't know if I've ever met an 'old' alien, per se. There are certainly signs that some have been around longer than others, especially on the cellular level, but I've never seen one actively breaking down over time the way humans do. But these Raptors? Yeah. They're slowly but surely coming apart, and I'm pretty sure I can figure out their relative ages as a result of that. The longer they've been around, the more their bodies have accumulated aches, pains, and general inefficiencies. Each and every one of them has been built to fail.

It's while I'm staring at one of these Raptors that we pass into the Queen's domain, our own overlapping set of powers instinctively holding fast against enemy intrusion… but despite our caution, everything changes the instant we pass inside. Blossom flinches and stops walking immediately, grabbing my and Maria's wrists as the two people closest to her. We stop moving, and—wait. The Raptors are gone. Where did they go?

Our surroundings are different. Have we been… teleported? Immediately, I grow eyes all over my body, granting myself omnidirectional vision. Emily is gone. Peter is gone. Anastasia is still next to me, thank god, and Christine is… still here, but standing on the opposite side of me to where she was before. What? 

We were walking down the middle of a street before, to ensure we have wide sightlines in every direction. That's still the case, we're just not on the same street. The houses, though similar in style and apparent affluence, no longer match any of the ones we could see previously. And the Raptors that had been escorting us as well as the Raptors that had been watching us from between the buildings are gone. 

Instead, Angels take their place. Four Angels step out from behind the houses, each from a different direction to leave us completely surrounded. One looks like an odd mix between Behemoth and Raptor, relatively small with four gangly legs and a long tail that splits into several smaller sections halfway down its length. The second is more of a man-sized snake, and though it has four limbs, none of them are being used for locomotion. Instead, it slithers on its belly and raises four raptor-like claws in front of itself, curled up underneath its mouth. The third is bipedal, almost strangely humanoid, though it moves unsteadily on blade-tipped legs that lack any kind of feet that might help it balance. Its upper body is headless, and in place of arms it has four squirming tentacles. The final Angel is little more than a giant mouth, scurrying close to the ground on six spider-like legs. It is the smallest of them all.

There's only one reasonable response to this. We have to assume this is an attack. I start shaping weapons immediately, replacing one hand with an acid cannon and the other with a blade as I crouch down and enhance my body for quick movement. Anastasia moves almost as fast as I do, her wings snapping outwards as blood pours from them, ready to attack or defend in moments.

"Stop," Blossom hisses out loud. "Julietta, listen."

What? Oh. Right. I tune into the network.

"—safe for now. We're with a bunch of workers, but they aren't attacking," I hear Peter report. "I managed to grab onto yet-nameless annoying family in time."

"It is Only Right to Protect one of our Own from Unknown Threats, is it Not?" someone I don't recognize says, their intonation into the network… strangely off in a mildly annoying way. Like the scent equivalent of an overly nasally voice. "Especially such Violent Company."

"Please repeat designations," I send, more or less automatically.

"This Unit's Designation is A Web of Squirming Hopes," the annoying-voiced Queen reports.

"This unit's designation is Tenacity Reaps Ruin," the first Angel, with the split tail, reports.

"This unit's designation is Averter of Fortunes," the second Angel, with no legs, reports.

"This unit's designation is Deficiency Begets Wisdom," the third Angel, with two legs and bad balance, reports.

"This unit's designation is Desire Consumed Gleefully," the last Angel, the big mouth on legs, reports.

"Mirthful Inquiry: Did You Fail to Listen the First Time?" the Queen jabs.

"Yes," I answer simply. May as well start earning brownie points early. "Apologies for our aggressive behaviors. Being suddenly relocated into a surrounded position was instinctively assessed as hostile."

"Well, Your Assessment was Incorrect," The Queen says. "We are Simply Greeting You."

"Yet likewise, your assessment of our intentions for your blessed are also incorrect," Blossom says. "Obviously so, since we stated them plainly."

The Angels approach us, slowly starting to circle around our group like sharks. Or… I suppose it's more like buzzards.

"We thought it was best to account for the fact that you are likely stupid or insane," Tenacity Reaps Ruin answers. "After all, would it not be absurd to think your new reverent form would be enough for us not to recognize you, warrior designation thirty-five sixty-nine?"

"Nice," Peter instinctively thinks.

"Open threat of war: my name is A Blossom of Wilted Chances, and I will gladly slaughter you to the last if you EVER 'fail' to speak it correctly again."

"Mocking statement: and fail your stated diplomatic mission?" Desire Consumed Gleefully prods. "How reckless."

"YES," Blossom promises. "I could not have left you with quite so much blood in my wake were I not."

"My Princess will have our support," I back her up. "Both war and peace are perfectly acceptable outcomes. Take whatever choice you will."

Ball's in your court, assholes. You don't believe we can lie, which means you don't have an option to try and force us to fail here. There are four of you and four of us, and the way I hear it, Blossom already carved a hole through you to escape from you once. Now accept getting outplayed like good little fuckup worshippers and deescalate. 

"You've come prepared to negotiate with failure, I see," Deficiency Begets Wisdom comments. "Very well. Shall we go to war? I vote negative."

"Negative."

"Affirmative."

"Affirmative."

"Affirmative."

"Negative. Majority unreached. Vote for war not passed. You remain invited, if not welcome, A Blossom of Wilted Chances and escort."

Blossom sheathes her blades, then unsheathes them, then sheathes them again, letting them rest back in her forearms.

"Unmatched disappointment," she sneers. "But very well. Let peace remain. Allow us back to our companions."

"Your Companions?" the Queen rumbles. "You Refer to This Mute Member of Our Own Council, and This Chosen of Perfection? Such Strange Company You Have Grown to Keep, Spawn of My Flesh."

"Perhaps it should be telling that I prefer Perfection's company to yours," Blossom snaps back.

"Is the fact that our newest is mute the reason you tolerate them?" Desire Consumed Gleefully asks. 

"Emphasizing expletive. These chosen are like young-in-learning cruel Princesses pulling on each other's hair," Peter complains. "I mean irritating ungrown with more arrogance than experience pulling each other down like carapaced claw creatures in a bucket. I mean fornicate this foul language to a burning place after death. I mean fuck."

He's saying they're high-school mean girls. I wish he was less wrong. Unfortunately, unlike high school mean girls, these Angels have dangerous superpowers, at least one of which they've already demonstrated can carve through the protection normally afforded to us by our domains. 

"Oh, and the chosen of Perfection cannot even talk correctly. Amusement, mocking amusement!" Tenacity Reaps Ruin titters.

"You are performing incoherent shouts up the incorrect wood-based plant," Peter says. "I am not bad at this language. This language is bad at Confidence is Apotheosis. It is simply incapable of holding the full breadth of my unfathomable charms. Idiot."

"Can we quit being at each other's throats for two short moments and actually move on with the reason for our arrival?" Maria grumbles. "We are not fighting each other. So are we HELPING each other? Do you want our assistance in properly integrating your council member or not?"

"I Suppose We Do," the Queen concedes. "Very Well. You Will be Escorted. Follow."

The Angels turn as one and all start walking the same direction. Blossom hesitates, squeezing my hand for a moment before working up the courage to follow. She's stressed the fuck out just being here, and the Failure Angels all know it. They're gleefully drinking in her discomfort. Tenacity Reaps Ruin briefly stops to glance at her, and Blossom flinches just from that alone, memories of painful punishments flitting through her mind. It's enough to make me writhe. I have to consciously rein in my domain to avoid aggressively pressing it against the assholes who hurt her.

Ugh. I'm going to have to spend weeks inside their Queen if we're actually making this work. Is it really going to be worth it…? 

"You and I Will Have Fun Together, Twisting Scars Reshape Fate," the Queen promises like a curse. 

Emily and Peter suddenly appear in front of me before I can think of a response, the two of them looking extremely disoriented for a moment, before spotting the rest of the group. I grow a couple extra arms and grab their hands, getting the impression from Blossom that the Queen is generally less capable of separating us if we hold onto each other.

"Charming company, I take it?" Emily deadpans.

"I'm increasingly unsure if this is a good idea or not," I admit.

"Say it ain't so. Here I thought you'd be looking forward to it," Emily smirks. "We'll both get to hang out for a while in the same womb. We'll be like real sisters!"

"Don't be gross," I sigh. "And you are my real sister. You know that."

"Ugh, when did you get so sappy? These days you're either sappy or stressed. Where's that dry wit I'm so used to?"

"Oh don't worry, you'll get to hear it plenty once we get you into the network," Maria smirks. "And even then we're probably only getting half of it."

I sigh. My fate is to forever be the butt of my friend group's jokes, isn't it?

"Well ya see, sis, we can either laugh with you or scream because of you," Peter says. "You're more or less the family cryptid at this point."

"Yeah, for sure," Christine agrees. "I saw you glaring at one of the people we are ostensibly here to negotiate with and growing fuckin' spikes out of your back and I was like oh, are we doing this now? It's gotten to the point where I've been subconsciously working out a whole system to judge how crazy everything is about to get based on how many limbs you currently have. It's a bit unreliable, though, since zero either means you're feeling extra calm or that everyone in the room is about to fucking dissolve into flesh slurry." 

"And what about…" I take a moment to assess my current limb count, obviously including the tentacles, "…fourteen?"

"Eh," Christine shrugs. "Could be better, could be worse. Though the tentacles are all ridged like you're trying to mimic coral, which usually means you're stressed as hell."

…Well. It's not like it's hard to guess that I'm very stressed right now. It doesn't necessarily mean her system works. Maria chokes down a laugh when I think that, flicking the side of my head with one of her tentacles. 

Geez. Being in a hive mind with all my friends makes it way harder to not embarrass myself. I'm never going to get over this.

"It's difficult to remain in full conscious control of myself at all times, alright?" I huff.

"Oh, I know," Christine laughs. "God, remember back in training? You spent the whole thing trying so hard to hold your freak in. By the time we got to basic you had replaced your entire ass with sticks."

"And good thing I had, or they would have been running the entire squad extra every time I let myself grow scales," I grumble. "It was exhausting. I'm glad I don't have to do that here, even if you won't stop making fun of me about it."

"If it bothers you that much, we can stop," Maria assures me.

"No, it's fine," I sigh. "A bit of humility will help keep me human."

"I think it's a bit late for that, but maybe it's the thought that counts," Peter chuckles.

Every little bit is going to help if I'm eventually going to become the second goddamn Grand Queen. …I manage to clamp down on my network connection before I let that thought through coherently, instead only emitting a burst of discontent and worry for the future before I let any details on Blossom's theory leak to the Failure colony. That feels like a complete shitshow just waiting to happen. 

…On the other hand, I need to get over myself. These Angels have my hackles raised for several good reasons, but it's pathetic to not be putting my best foot forward just because of that. I should at least be trying to get these negotiations right. I prepared for them and everything!

"Intention to converse: as I originally hail from human culture, the breadth of variety in how each of the gods is worshipped by their chosen has always impressed me," I say. "How does your colony view failure, and go about its worship?"

"Amusement," Desire Consumed Gleefully laughs. "It is very simple. We get people to fail."

"Is that truly all?" I ask. "It seems like such a small facet of your god."

"Irritation. Of course the worshipper of Possibility is concerned that we don't have enough variety," Averter of Fortunes complains. 

"That is hardly the extent of our faith," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says, ignoring Averter's comment. "Failure is an essential and inescapable aspect of life. I personally value meditating on the inevitability of one's own failure and the way it enriches us."

"Heavy agreement," I send. This is exactly what I was fishing for! "Failure is in many ways the foundation of human knowledge. 'Trial and error,' as it is often referred to as, is one of the most fundamental methods of personal advancement. There is more to learn from failure than there is from success."

"Surprise. This much passion on the subject was not anticipated," Deficiency Begets Wisdom admits. "Most do not appreciate the advantages Failure brings."

Really? It seems so obvious to me… then again, there's an odd lack of learning in alien culture in general, isn't there? They don't have technology. Like, any of it. They barely even use tools! There's a reason the human consensus was that they weren't sapient. Same with innovation. This whole journey we're doing is happening because aliens apparently relied on the Grand Queen for all of their body-making knowledge, and couldn't fix it themselves when things went wrong! They simply aren't built for innovation. 

"Twisting Scars Reshape Fate? You have gone silent," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says.

"Apologies," I respond. "I suppose I am simply coming to realize the extent to which your god is undervalued."

"Amusement. Irritation. Doubtlessly we are about to be regaled with no end of Possibility's 'wisdom' on the matter," Tenacity Reaps Ruin huffs. 

Ah, that's right. Failure and Possibility have somewhat of a feud. My domain is more powerful than usual, standing here in range of their Queen, but as usual the boost in power is mutual enough to be irrelevant.

It makes a certain kind of sense. Possibility wants as many options as you can get. Failure wants to ensure a small, specific set of things happen: the fuckups. But that's just so surface-level I can't possibly agree to leave it at that. Failure opens as many possibilities as it closes. I don't want to only fail, but neither do the literal worshippers of Failure so what does that matter? 

"Aggravation," Blossom mentally groans. "You have this many good things to say about Failure, of all gods, but you still can't stand the idea of Bliss? You are incorrigible."

"It is less that we don't wish to fail, and more that if one seeks failure intentionally, failure becomes impossible," Averter of Fortunes hisses. "Failure cannot be the end goal. That is counter to its nature. One must strive, genuinely, in order to fail."

"But there are many outcomes where failure isn't the goal, but it's still acceptable," I point out. "Or situations where failure is the objective because it's necessary to make progress towards a certain other objective. My people have a process by which we seek a truth of reality by intentionally seeking to disprove as many explanations of phenomena as we can. Disproving something is, in many cases, much easier than proving it.  Failing to disprove something, likewise, can yield much more insight than the reverse."

"Ah, yes. You were formerly… 'human?' A fitting scent for the natives. I have a few questions about them, if you don't mind," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says. "Is it true that you lack any natural connection to a network, and exist in a state of permanent isolation?"

"There is no human equivalent to the network," I confirm. "Why do you ask?"

"Because your kind is fascinating and also I am winning a bet with Desire Consumed Gleefully now."

"Rage!" Desire complains. "Fury! How can such nonsense be true?"

"We are very different from you," I say. "We make up for what we lack in coordination with inspiration. The weapons our unblessed use to fight, for example."

"And it's not like humans can't coordinate well!" Maria chimes in. "We work together a lot. The network isn't required for that, it just helps."

"That is certainly true," Deficiency Begets Wisdom agrees. "We have seen humans fight with quite effective tenacity."

"Amusement. Their Insistence on Fighting at Range Makes Them So Easy to Handle With My Blessing, However," the Queen chimes in. "High-Speed Projectiles So Easily Get Lost in the Flesh of Allies."

"Is that what your blessing does?" I ask, realizing I probably should have asked Blossom earlier exactly what everyone's powers were.

"I should have volunteered the information without prompting," Blossom argues. "But yes. A Web of Squirming Hopes can teleport anything to anywhere it does not wish to go, within the bounds of her domain. She can warp space itself to achieve the effect."

"This is Correct," the Queen confirms. "Though if You Wish to Interrogate Us, Know That We Will Respond in Kind."

Meaning that if we keep asking about everyone's powers, they'll force us to tell them all of our powers since it's so easy to get info through the network. There's a pretty obvious workaround, though, and Blossom immediately sees it.

"…Desire Consumed Gleefully very dangerous. Emotional manipulator. Destroys will to act," Blossom says aloud.

"The noises are obviously communication," Tenacity Reaps Ruin hisses. "We are not stupid."

"Falsehood detected," Blossom grumbles.

"We are intending to form an alliance, are we not?" Deficiency Begets Wisdom says. "Additionally, the Princess of Possibility is familiar with all our abilities. This unit sees no harm in simply volunteering them. Perhaps, as a gesture of goodwill, you could do the same?"

"I control my blood," Anastasia chimes in.

"Ana!" I chide her. "Let's decide as a group."

"No, they're right!" Anastasia insists. "Everyone has mostly stopped being grumpy at each other, so we gotta be nice if they're being nice."

"Nothing about them nice," Blossom insists. "They up to something."

"We just ask them what their game is and they'll have tell us, right?" Peter asks.

"Eh. Yes, but very rude. Enough to ruin alliance," Blossom says. "Not saying no, but…"

"I'm saying no," Emily says. "We play nice. Go ahead and tell them."

"You sure, Emily?" I ask.

"Yup," she shrugs. "Look, these assholes are gonna be my family or whatever, right? They'll know everything anyway if it all goes well. And if it doesn't go well… I mean, I'll be real, Blossom's assessment was spot-on. Their odds of dying are way higher than ours. I'm not too worried."

Hmm. Well, alright then. I glance at the others. Emily and Peter give shrugs of assent. Ana was on board from the start. Christine doesn't look like she cares. And Blossom… still looks miserable and wary, but slowly, she nods. 

"I'm an immovable object," Peter says, "except when I move. Then I'm an unstoppable force."

"Are you entirely certain you are not blessed by Contradiction, mad-speaking one?" Tenacity Reaps Ruin asks.

"Yeah, I'm blessed by awesome," Peter insists.

"I can manifest fragments of my mind as individual energy constructs," Maria says, demonstrating by summoning Blue, Yellow, and Infrared, the latter of which quickly flies over and sits on my head, her legs threading between my tentacles. I smile and give her a squeeze.

"I control living biological matter," I say.

"All living biological matter?" Averter of Fortunes asks.

"As long as it is within my domain, yes," I confirm.

"That sounds very broadly applicable to many situations," Deficiency Begets Wisdom comments.

"Yes. It is," I confirm. "As for the two of us still unconnected to the network, the Chosen of Division can separate objects and living things into component parts and partially or completely recombine them at will. Your future council member, on the other hand, knows the relative immediacy of the death of everyone in her domain."

"Surprise. Avarice. A future-seer?" Averter of Fortunes hisses.

"Rare. Very useful," Tenacity Reaps Ruin agrees. "My blessing makes those in my domain more likely to fail at their actions each time they attempt them."

"And, perhaps as demonstration to our earlier conversation on the breadth of our god's domain, I am blessed with the opposite," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says. "Those in my domain are more likely to succeed at their goals each time they fail at them."

"The two of you sound more complimentary than anything," I note.

"Offense. We're not," Tenacity Reaps Ruin insists.

"Agreement. We are very much not," Deficiency Begets Wisdom says.

I can replicate forms of damage that occur within my domain onto other targets within it," Averter of Fortunes explains, "or move damage from one target to another."

"And I force those I will to give up on any hope of success at all," Desire Consumed Gleefully says, skittering in a quick, excited circle. "Which is delicious and makes me powerful!"

"We are Becoming Such Excellent Friends so Very Quickly!" A Web of Squirming Hopes cheers. "It is a Wonder how Our Wayward Daughter Can be so Upset!"

"Oh, yes! A Blossom of Wilted Chances, DO tell us your blessing!" Tenacity Reaps Ruin presses. "You left such death and destruction in your wake, and witnesses of your escape had so little worthwhile information to share. Failures, the lot of them."

"Isn't that a good thing to you guys…?" Peter asks.

"In some ways, yes, but that does not mean it should be rewarded," Tenacity Reaps Ruin says. "If it was rewarded, it wouldn't be failure, would it?"

There is something deeply twisted in the idea of explicitly worshiping actions that you tautologically cannot wish to do. It's little wonder that these Angels are all a little messed up in the head. Will Emily really be alright…?

"My power," Blossom says, "is that whenever I fail, I can select an alternate possibility where I do not."

Oh, Blossom, no. I know you phrased it that way on purpose! There are so many better ways you could have said that, but you absolutely phrased it that way on purpose! That's not even entirely accurate!

Fury churns through the colony, indignance at the sheer blasphemy of that description humming dangerously through the entire network… but only for a moment. Then, something sickly pleasurable suddenly takes its place. If any of the Angels of Failure had the instincts for some alien equivalent to a smile, they'd be grinning like madmen.

"Oh, wayward one," Tenacity Reaps Ruin says dangerously, "our failure to kill you shall truly never cease to be an excellent source of worship."

"Astutely noted, fool," Blossom fires back, "for you will fail to kill me every time you try. I would beg you to turn this violent, were it not less likely to cause that outcome than silence."

"Oh, Yes," A Web of Squirming Hopes laughs. "This Will be the Beginning of Such a Lovely Alliance."