#;; handgiven

[eyeless-smiles]

Continued from x

@handgiven

the angel can feel a slight change in the air as soon as it happens. he doesn't have time to ponder it for too long, however, as there comes a sharp knock at the door. most of emmanuel's friends know to just come in -- or knock and then come in, optimally, considering that more often than not, the door knows to open to those that have been here previously. having been repotting plants, he heads to the kitchen to wash his hands, while calling out ever so gently: "just a moment!"

he's wiping his hands upon his trousers still as he reaches the door and opens it, to see a nightmare wearing a cheshire grin. the corinthian's hey is almost like a threat, but emmanuel supposes once again, that he simply doesn't know any better and so, out of habit, he leans against the doorframe, staring up at the other here, this once enjoying the fact that the other is not surrounded by the pervasive stench of blood.

"well. hello there. how did you... what brings you in these parts?" he can't help wondering about the safety of his neighbours. it was one thing to go in the other's trail and save the fragmented souls he leaves behind, it's a whole other thing to serve him his own neighbour upon the silver platter just because he got the other's attention.

Enamel flashes with ill intent. A smile laced with the promise of unfathomable horror. Covered over nicely with a thin veil of charismatic charm. He can hear the confusion in the Angel's voice. The need for answers. The concern laced in the small intricacies of his tone.

The Corinthian is sure that out of any that could arrive at their door, the Nightmare is probably the lowest on the Angel's list of desired visitors.

The monster leans a shoulder against the same doorframe Emmanuel rests upon. Shortening the space between them.

"You've been avoiding me, Angel." The Nightmare notes in a low, amused tone. Blond locks tilting as obscured maws study the others face for any hint of emotion. Any ounce of fear or uncertainty flashing across his features.

Without waiting for an invite, the Nightmare sets a hand upon the door and brushes by Emmanuel to step into their abode.

[soulmissed]

@handgiven, cont.

the woodlands rouse and rustle. young august, hands inside sweatshirt pouch, idles toward emmanuel. his chestnut eyes land upon the twig. possibilities, possibilities. the boy collects his own forest branch. (it was knobbed and a leaf, peach orange, clung to it.)

“ mine looks like a wand! ” voice bonbon-toothed. spinning around harvest groves of trees. “ can we scrapbook our forest finds, emmanuel? ”

[helltechnicality]

@handgiven + starter call

fear lances through the ghost like lightning as his attempt to phase through the wall fails. edwin has many fears from his days in hell but iron walls? the idea of being trapped? he does not care for it. it reminds him that he is once again unable to control where he is. he is not free. charles is out there somewhere possibly harmed. but he also knew the other boy would come for him. but he also is not alone. another figure is inside this apparent prison for ghosts. " now, forgive me if i am assuming the worst as i am told i often do but did you put me in this prison? or are you trapped as i am? "

[mostunwantedfbi]

@handgiven liked for a sentence starter!

"So about the book of Revelations thing: how much of it is actually going to come to pass? Do you know?"

[qapsiel]

@handgiven in response to broken hearts

                                CASTIEL FEELS HIMSELF GROW IMPATIENT because it doesn't seem like Emmanuel understood him, or maybe he did, and Castiel is just unable to see it. "Not — earth," he explains. "Did someone ever actively break your heart; an angel, a human, or—" He stops short because he didn't expect the question to come back and bite him in his own ass, as the saying goes, but here it is, lingering in the space between them.

                                Castiel looks away. Unbidden, the image of Dean pops up in his head. You can't stay here. Being cast out by whom he considered friends, family even, during the hardest time of his life. The sole reason he's here with Emmanuel, to begin with. Is that heartbreak? It feels like it; it's like an invisible fist is clenched around the pump in your chest and just squeezes, squeezes, squeezes all the time. It's so much. "I suppose so," he answers eventually, still not looking at Emmanuel.

[bornbreathless]

"I don't want to be alone tonight." consider: a bird-like lil demon figure slipping out of the shadows, all big eyes and missing char <3

@handgiven

She'd known that they were there, of course. She would know them anywhere. But it's part of the game, isn't it? Each pretending not to know when the other appears, getting to act surprised, all in the name of teasing and play.

But it feels different, this time, and Char's beaming grin falters just a little at the quiet smallness of Raym's voice, and concerned eyes turn to the demon. Looking them over, taking them in. All slow movements so as not to frighten them off as the reaper moves in closer to cup a cheek oh-so-gently. Brow creased with worry as she searches their face.

Before concern melts to smile, and she bumps their foreheads together so that even if they weren't alone, only Raym could hear the words spoken into the air between them. "You've got me. You've always got me."

[dramatis-personae]

@handgiven continued from here

the angel was sitting in the park, right by the pond, peaceful and content enough as it was one of the last warm days of the year. autumnal, yes, but the warmth of the sun was echoed in the yellow leaves of the trees in the area. he had a messenger bag upon his lap and within it another bag, that one full of frozen peas. he was feeding the ducks. just that. he was so engrossed in the fact that he didn't notice the other approaching until the moment the other actually sat down. "good day..." he said, the greeting more of an apology for possibly not having seen him sooner. then his eyes travelled back towards the pond. "are you a fellow... duck enthusiast? would you like to feed them some peas?"

The bickering among the family had been way too much for Jamie. As soon as the talk of the will came into the conversation all focus on why they were gathered went out the window. It's like they all forgot how to mourn. And the announcement of Jamie's inheritance sent everyone into a frenzy. So he ducked out through the garden and just started walking.

His suit was just slightly too big for him, and it was clear this wasn't something he was fond of wearing. When he sat down next to the man on the bench, he nodded with a polite smile. Jamie hadn't even noticed the ducks until they were mentioned, and that smile faded into something warmer. "Hello" he started softly, his gaze never leaving the ducks. "It's nice to meet someone who doesn't insist on giving them bread." His attention went back to the man. "Yes please."

[dandylionsden]

@handgiven

"oh, um—" randy's lips purse, his shoulders raised and his hands curled into fists. there's a simple, polite shake of his head and he briefly meets emmanuel's gaze, looking mortified to be taking up space. "no, that's okay." SURE, he just got splashed with water from a truck speeding through a puddle on the side of the road. randy just wipes his face off with the back of his hand.

"you don't, uh— you don't have to help. thank you!! but it's okay."

[shilohgreen]

"maybe. maybe we can just stay inside. today. just today. cuddle. maybe." // @handgiven (x)

"is that what you want?" their morning tea is still steeping and already, the world is too large for them both. will crosses to where his partner sits and he rests himself against the nearest surface. a kiss to the tip of emmanuel's nose and a kiss to his lips. "you won't hear complaints from me. the dogs will need to go outside, but we don't have to."

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@handgiven

Such warmth permeates through every pore and clotted cream of the sensitivities for shuttered windows, open breezes in flowing curtains and that swift of endless leaves and wilde twigs sifted near permanently into Roland's windblown hair.

The promise of that swirl of scents with fresh laundry, dark, heady tea, is coupled with a Gift of a brown, paper bag sat atop Emmanuel's table, next to the teacase and its fancy assortments, what hints at sweet treats of white chocolate and decadent tarts with berry filling; hand-scratched cookies and sugary delights, all according to those flour-dusted Adventures mixed with groupings of witches and tender elders of the glorious Olde Ways for baking. His stomach growls for one, so Roland, and smiles he at this beautification of the animal spirit: braiding hair, sliding silken strands to slip past his questing fingers, grown ragged and square.

"Hast thou seen new flowers since Last?" asks he, hushed in memorable peace. 'Tis a dewy, sleepy Quality to this air shared in serenity, fantastic tranquility of the comfort for twin beads, and it doth borne Roland's expression to reflect. He smiles warmly. "New bees, the delicate prettiness of evolving species of insects? New sights for internal starlight?"

[debtsunpaid]

BE NOT AFRAID, @handgiven!

false gods must be repudiated, but that is not all: the reasons for their existence must be sought beneath their masks.

inevitable, if undesirable, that they'd have to meet. i can't change your fate, but i can ease your suffering, had been the promise that had bought and sold john constantine to him, and then here comes the unfortunate namesake to do both. competition is unavoidable in industry, these days. can't be helped. must be handled, though.

he stands straight-backed and tall, with a placid smile that doesn't meet the gilded amber of his eyes. " you smell like hell. didn't take you as a day-trip kinda guy, but then, i wouldn't have taken you for a coward, either, not at first. so full of surprises. how long did it take you to bend your principles just to save one human's life, a day? a week? "

[spookyagentfmulder]

Closed starter for @handgiven ⭐

It had been a week since it happened.

Ever since that fateful day, Mulder habitually returned to the site of the chance encounter. At first it was to simply sit and wait, then it was to amble about one of the trails, then finally it became his new running track of choice. He tried the same time of day. He then tried earlier in the day. When he found that no matter which time of day it was that the stranger could not be found, he simply picked a time that best suited him and hoped that one day he would catch a glimpse of the man he had known as Emmanuel.

As time passed, he became less and less hopeful that he would see this person again. As time marched on, the search drifted into the back of his mind and he lost himself to the routine of his run. Headphones pressed to his ears, Mulder jogged along to the music blasting out of his Walkman tape player. Mentally, he gripped tight to his hope, now as small as a grain of sand digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

[soulmissed]

@handgiven: ‘ how do you like being here? ’

memes, accepting

soil mucks the boy’s palms. grass stains blemish the knees of his blue jeans. (this earthly mess gave him a tender purpose. he enjoys exploring nature and dirtying his hands.) flora. greenery. abundant in quantity, colored in hues a through z. like ornate sketches found within storybook pages.

“ it’s peaceful. ” august replies, voice forthright. “ my spirit...ain’t as heavy, as hurt. ” the boy himself was at peace. that cosmic weight momentarily thrust from his tiny shoulders – restful copper eyes, boomerang smile.

[eyeless-smiles]

"Someone, somewhere has failed you miserably. You were supposed to be loved, protected and cared for but you never were.“ (... em has been summoned by this prompt specifically.)

The Corinthian remains quiet after Emmanuel drops that particular emotional bomb on him. As immobile as a statue while he contends with the swirrling of unnatural feelings in his chest.

Finally, he parts his lips in quiet response.

"Nightmares were never created with the purpose of needing care. Or to be loved." He lowers his attention to his own hands. Picking at an idle thread along his cuff.

"I was created to reflect the darkest parts of humanity. And like humanity, I crave that which I can not have."

The Corinthian swallows back a lump forming in his throat.

"My Creator. He... he embodies the entire human subconsciousness. Their flaws are his flaws. I am the embodiment of those flaws. And like humanity, he fears and loathes them. My Creator's love... That is what I crave most."

The Nightmare sinks back into the Angel's couch with a defeated look upon its face.

"A cruel fucking irony, isn't it?"

@handgiven

[bornbreathless-archive]

@handgiven from here

it may have been the port wine char set them up with. it may have been the very fact that no matter what they were willing to admit, raym did miss char horribly and seeing her now made them giddy beyond what the port alone could have done. still, what a nice evening. what lovely talk. what wonderful -- char. they caught themself staring a little too long and that fact alone made them frown to themself, unsettled ever so slightly at whatever the hell kind of mood they could feel settling in the pit of their stomach. whatever. char is a friend. char is nice. char cares about them and gets them port wine to drink even though she herself thinks it's gross. char looks out for them. char has a delightful cat. char is always willing to let them stop by when they just so happen to hop the earth. char is... they frown a little harder, watching char through their empty glass, slightly out of focus, slightly twisted by irregularities of the material, slightly tinted red with the leftover traces of the liquid. the emptiness is what bothers them, surely. nothing else. when they pull to their feet, they are slightly wobbly. just slightly. they consider turning into their bird form to move around the room but regretfully recognise that that would mean leaving their glass behind. and the glass is the point, innit? the glass they cradle in their hand as they make it over to char, who leans against the counter with her back and enjoys the show. oh devils, they must look ridiculous right now. it's really not even that they had that much. mostly, they were just out of shape. and their cheeks were burning before they got that first sip, anyway. and their head was all fuzzy before they'd even begin to consider-- wrong calculations about their movement lead to char getting in their way, between them and the bottle. or has she always been there? what is it that raym comes for? they look up to meet her eyes and they just about melt. they do miss having their wings for maintaining balance right about now. they do miss just... being a bird and not having to make decisions like this. they do step on their tiptoes, to press a shy peck upon char's lips, pressing a little closer as their hand snakes around her to grasp their prey; the all-guilty bottle of port wine. sure. this was all for that one bottle. nothing else. "i was, um, runnin' on empty."

Most who know her know that Char is, perhaps, one of the least patient beings on the planet. Which is admittedly somewhat confounding given the very nature of what she is, a living embodiment of that which waits for everyone no matter how much they may try to outrun it.

Everybody knows that Char isn't patient. Which is why it might surprise them to know just how patient she is with Raym.

Raym, who denies any accusation that they may have missed the Reaper when she's not around. Raym, who lives amongst the drab and dreary hallways of Hell, but whose eye is always drawn to the shiny trinkets that litter the Earth. Raym, who she can't help but notice has been staring at her almost the whole evening, partly because she's been staring back nearly as much.

Char stands with her back to the kitchen counter, having moved to refill her wineglass a few moments earlier - not that godawful port wine, but a nice red, most of the bottle already gone over the course of the night. The conversation has slowed to a comfortable silence as she watches Raym from over the rim of her glass, unable to help from the way her lips curl into an amused smile as the little bird stands from the table on wobbly legs. Oh how she wants to comment, to tease, but she doesn't dare risk bursting the warm bubble of contentment that seems to have settled over the apartment. No, she'll settle for watching Raym toddle over on unsteady legs, and doesn't even really notice that their trajectory puts her right in their path until they're face to face and Char is suddenly very aware of just how close they are.

And then, Raym kisses her. Just softly, shyly, the barest brush of lips that almost makes her question if it had really even happened before the demon speaks. Char's eyes dart sideways to the procured bottle for a second and her expression - more startled than she'd be willing to admit - melts into something amused, and then something near-hesitant. She sets her glass on the counter behind her, eyes never leaving Raym's face as she then reaches up to carefully, gently, take the little bird's chin and tilts their head up again. Allowing a moment for them to pull back before she closes the distance between them, stomach set to fluttering as she finally does what she's been thinking about for weeks and presses a tender kiss to their lips in return. Searching Raym's face for a reaction when she pulls away.

She thinks that maybe she could get used to the taste of port wine.

[qapsiel]

@handgiven in response to half-naked Emmanuel

                              EMMANUEL'S HOME IS VERY COMFY. Castiel never cared for this until he became human; now, it seems crucial to sit in a sunbeam on very soft cushions, wrapped in a comfortable and slightly too big jumper that smells of vanilla, a book in his hands. The Catcher in the Rye. He's absorbed in the story, only briefly looking up when the other angel walks through, but then he does a double-take, lowering the book. "Okay," he says slowly and without blinking. Naked skin never bothered him; Adam and Eve walked the Garden with no clothes up until they ate from the Forbidden Fruit. It's the natural state of the human body. Castiel wonders why he feels different about it now. He kind of wants to look a little longer than strictly necessary. "What did you do in the desert?"