Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is amazing.

A/N: I really adore Anathema. She's such an interesting character, and not weak at all. I'm also mildy curious about the whole prophecy thing. This is the result. I'd like to expand on this later, if I ever get the time. As for the title? Erm. I don't know. I couldn't think of one that fit, so I picked out an adjective I associate with Anathema. Nice. As in scrupulously accurate.


Anathema often wonders what Agnes thought of the lives her descendants led. She doesn't know how Agnes saw the future, but likens it to looking through a spyglass, only backwards: everything tiny and confusing.

Anathema used to live her life by the prophecies. She'd read from them as a child, carefully planned her future according to the age-old lines. It was all supposed to end three days ago. The whole world was supposed to end, three days ago.

But there were new prophecies. Somehow. Anathema doesn't know how Agnes managed it all, and if she thinks about it too much she gets confused and has to take Phaeton out for a ride around Tadfield.

Still, the fact remains that the package had arrived at her house, the day after the Almost-Armageddon, and Anathema had known what was inside. Newt had made her—no, he'd asked her—to get rid of the Book. She can understand why. And yet.

Anathema had wanted so desperately to take a look, just a glimpse, but something stopped her. She burned the Book—and it was painful to do—without ever looking inside.

And now there are no more prophecies.
Anathema can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad one.

Sometimes Anathema feels lost without them. It's only natural. She's lived her life by them. They ended, but her life didn't. Life goes on. It's a little overwhelming.

Anathema lives her life as best as she can, now. It's hard without the ancient ink to guide her, but she doesn't really have a choice.

She wonders, sometimes, if Agnes had seen this future.
She wonders what Agnes thought of it all.

Someday Anathema would like to ask Agnes about everything. Somehow. She's psychic, she can manage. But for now? She'll live.

Today is still the first day of the rest of her life, after all.

Even if she abhors that expression.