#Could explain also why Abel needed a body to be put into to rise back

[casimania]

Next drabble idea I'll probably never write: AU season 4 where Lucifer still has to leave for Hell but it's Piercifer and he leaves Marcus behind who just... slowly spends more and more time at the penthouse until he's basically living there outside of work and moping around. Drinking, growing the depression beard back, cursing at Lucifer and God, badly singing sad songs and playing along with his guitar, just being a sad sack in general.

Except this is either also a Deckerstar AU (poly but a V with Lucifer in the middle) or Lucifer has been Chloe's closest friend and partner for years and she misses him, so one day she doesn't have Trixie and she just misses him a lot she sneaks up the penthouse. And there's just Pierce and his beard and a terrible bed head in his sweats and a t-shirt surrounded by empty bottles of not so cheap alcohol and half empty bottles of definitely not so cheap alcohol. And she's immediately backing away because she's good at second guessing herself and thinks she's intruding but he's like "He left you too behind, didn't he?" and waves a bottle in her direction. Cause of course she misses him too, and in a way they both remind each other of him. So she takes the alcohol and sits down. They don't talk much, just drink and sigh. She doesn't have it in her to leave when it gets dark outside so Pierce leaves her the bed since he's been sleeping there pretty much all the time. And he just throws his legs on the couch and passes out there.

[[MORE]]

... Okay I'm definitely making it a Deckerstar + Piercifer V, I just like the idea rn. Anyway, they go on with this routine for a while. Chloe comes over when Dan (or Dan and Charlotte together) has Trixie with him (they alternate whole weeks now, he's learned to do dad stuff in a timely manner finally). They drink and sorta grunt or sigh in each other's general direction and just amble around the penthouse. Sometimes Chloe puts a movie on to take her mind off things (stuff she watched with Lucifer) and a couple of times Pierce just sits down and read one of Lucifer's books and they fall asleep in front of the tv some of those ones.

One evening Marcus finds Chloe going through the freezer and she pulls aside a few ice cream tubs with like, unicorns or puppies on them (Marcus already saw them and was kinda "??", Chloe says Trixie likes the big screen and Lucifer playing songs for her so he bought some snacks for her for when she came over. She dives more into the freezer and they both pretend she's not suddenly holding back tears) she hits jackpot when she finds some ice cream with a fancy name and no cartoony animals or overly sweet flavours and she doesn't even both with a bowl, just takes a spoon (then goes back for another she throws at Marcus) . And she sits disgruntled in front of the TV and eats it. She's stressed over a case and just murders the absolute shit out of the ice cream, she pushes it Pierce's way a couple of times and he gets like the tiniest spoonfuls and then she's back at shoveling it back in her mouth looking absolutely miserable.

Pierce surprised them both by asking her about the case (they usually don't talk much in these moments). He knows the gist of it because he assigned it to her but she was decidedly in a better mood earlier. And she says it's not as much as the case being overly complicated, she has hunch, but for the first time she was in the middle of an interrogation or a investigating and she was suddenly hit with all the ways Lucifer could have influenced the situation. And then her brain just couldn't turn it off and she basically couldn't stop thinking about him. Going back to the precinct didn't help, he was always sitting on her desk. There's Marcus himself who Lucifer always made a beeline for a couple of times at least and he's looking like as sad as a saggy bowl of cereals too and that made her only think more about Lucifer being gone. She thought retreating at the penthouse could have helped but instead of being a comfort and making her feel like he's still somewhat around, it just makes her feel more the fact that he's not there and could never come back. And from there it's like, the gates are open. They start to talk about Lucifer. They get angry at him, they get angry at God, they get angry at the demons who came for him and at all the angels who didn't help and they it just ends up with them just talking about Lucifer in general. The hit he pulled that exasperated them, that was actually kinda funny or just so Lucifery you just took it as it came.

And it's a first for them. Not just talking about Lucifer or with each other at the penthouse. Just the two of them talking in general. They sort of exist in the same space because they both love Lucifer in this AU. But Chloe has to digest the Sinnerman thing. Cause I think she wouldn't hold onto the First Murderer thing because in her mind, ideally one would have had a trial and appropriate punishment in that situation. But between the time it was and who they were he got himself a literal Curse. He did a bad thing but she can't really wrap her mind around the punishment, people go to prison and never get out or people go to prison and then get out and try to live a normal life. He had God himself him Mark him as forever wandering the Earth alone and she's just... what does she do with that?? Biblical stuff is just too fucked up for her. She acknowledges that's stuff that happens 6000+ years ago and Pierce is gonna deal with that with Pierce and Lucifer. She had more of an issue with his more recent crime boss things. Lucifer skirts the line of what she finds okay, Dan went dangerously over some times, Pierce has been living on the other side for so long she's just no ok with that. But they all have a complicated situation. And in the 2 years he got to know Lucifer he sort of, dropped the whole thing (and may have been sort of ratting out some people because it seemed to make Lucifer happy because it made Chloe happy). She recognizes it doesn't make what he did retroactively better but look, she has a complicated love life. If what it took to make an old ass immortal man a little more nice and human is the Devil himself making puppy eyes at him and naming him feel bad about fucked up shit he does forth first time in millennia... she decides she can sort of deal with it. And for Marcus is sort of :/ over Chloe being a mortal, cause he knows it hurts losing someone to time and he can just imagine how Lucifer will suffer, especially since he feels just so much (and it takes him a while to get out of this mentality, that doesn't makes him think Lucifer gets attached to humans only because he's gotten to know them for so little compared to him, that with enough time they'll be the same, cause his is the only logical way of feeling over this). And in general he's got some deep seated fear that Chloe was put on Lucifer's path for nefarious purposes. They all have that little moment of doubt, like okay she has her feelings and takes her choices?? But what if God knew Marcus and Lucifer would have crossed paths and Chloe is there to prevent it in osns way? Or to be used to send him back to Hell? They reflect on it a little and get over it mostly, but Marcus still has this little voice inside him saying that maybe she's there for Lucifer to think "Why have him when I can have her?" the only things he seemingly brings in the relationship is immortality and understanding through that, but Lucifer lurks defying expectations and just went "BOTH BOTH I LOVE BOTH I WANT BOTH IF THEY'LL HAVE ME" and told them in detail what wonderful things they both brought to the relationship (Chloe needed that too. From her pov she's the one that can't fully get Lucifer and will just hurt him by dying in such a short time and maybe never see him again. But he proves both of their fears wrong). So yeah, until this point they were never really making comfortable conversation all the time and hanging out together. Just recognized each other as someone important to Lucifer that makes him happy and they were trying to work out if they could live in close contact when shit hit the fan and Lucifer had to go.

And from then they form some sort of understanding. They talk more about Lucifer. They get Eve, Maze, Dan, Charlotte, Linda and Amenadiel and try to make him contact other Angels and then shit happen with Azrael and Ella joins the Celestial-knowing club. They make concrete plans to get him out. They start being more like themselves and interact more in general.

Then one day Chloe is under the covers of Lucifer's bed and Marcus is on the other side and has kicked them off (it's easier than just taking turns, and while they never got to the point with having Lucifer time all together in an intimate way, they don't find it weird, sharing living spaces was something they had been considering before things got fucked up) and they suddenly wake up in a tangle of blankets and feathers and ashes and there's Lucifer looking absolutely terrible but he lights up like the Sun upon seeing them and they immediately pounce on him. He thinks he's dreaming and they tell him they've been just sort of living there together when Dan has Trixie and they want to know what's going on. Unfortunately it's not permantent, the demons are chilling enough he can fly up for a little while but he still has to go back if they don't find a solution. He mostly does it to get his Chloe and Marcus fills and cry a little about how much he loves them and wishes he didn't have to leave them and will find a way to come back to them permanently and he's sorry he left looking intend on not coming back (he tought it was the best option, but he just missed them so much).

And nothing. Shit's fucked but slowly maybe they find a solution. Didn't really wrote a plot. I just wanted Chloe and Marcus moping together over Lucifer and talking about him and helping each other get out of the dark pit of despair.

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Ch. 5

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

Read on AO3

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"Upon further analysis, the bodies of a magician and a mortal differ greatly on a physiological level. Magicians seem to be built with an internal armor to prevent any magic from harming them or worse. It is just a theory, but putting magic in the body of a mortal could result in not only extreme damage to the body but a complete deterioration of the mind as well. More experiments are needed. I also need to obtain a Great Wizard cadaver for further study." - from the recordings of Dr. Jacobi Hyde, Alchemist

"That is a lot of books." Sam blows out a low whistle, his eyes scanning up and down the long rows of bookshelves. He can only see the first row, beyond that, the room is dark and endless. The library at Horae Manor could rival the Library of Congress.

Juniper shrugs, letting her hair fall into her face. "I guess."

"You guess? They must have a copy of every book on Earth in here." He stares at her with wide eyes.

"Earth, Mancika, and every other known world out there." She mutters and walks over to a nearby table where she takes a seat, pulling out a few notebooks as she does.  "Books just never interested me much."

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam raises an eyebrow at her. "I thought you loved learning."

"I do. I just think there's a lot more to learn in the real world than in some books. If you want to nerd out about books with someone, talk to Arwen. She reads all the time. Tessa does too, though she'd never admit to it." Pretending like Sam's not even there, or perhaps hoping he'll leave, June clicks her pen and begins to write in her notebooks, occasionally referencing a book laid out before her.

Sam's not used to being called a nerd by someone he assumed was, well, also a nerd. He'd followed June to the library hoping to have some intelligent conversations with the only other person here who seemed to want to understand more about how all this magic stuff worked. At least he knows where the library is now so he can come in and study on his own if he needed to.

He grabs a random book off the shelf closest to him, A History of the Horae Greats by Petra Abell. He takes a seat across from Juniper, who's quickly flipping through the pages of her notebooks as if searching for something. He glances down at her work. "For someone who's not that into reading, you seem pretty invested in those books. Are those the ones you stole from Caelus last summer?"

She jumps as if she had already forgotten he was there. In the process, she manages to get a paper cut on her finger, dripping bright red blood onto the page. She curses and holds her finger close. Glaring at him, she says, "Maybe."

Sam peers closer, and June responds by shutting the books in his face. "What language is that?" he asks, oblivious to the fact that she is clearly trying to keep them to herself. He only caught a quick glimpse of the writing, but it isn't any language he recognized. In fact, most of it didn't even resemble words, just different shapes and symbols.

"Can't you find somewhere else to read?" she keeps glaring at him, hoping he'll get the hint. "These journals are private."

"Oh, um." He looks around at all the other empty tables. "I guess." He slides his chair away from the table and moves to a new spot farther down. He can still see Juniper from here, but he'd have to shout to talk to her.

Satisfied, June returns to her work. Reluctantly, Sam slips into his book. He's sucked in quicker than he expects. Each chapter seems to be about a different pair of Warp and Aether Wizards, except for one titled The Pair that Never Was that is only one page long. There's even a chapter on Rowena and Cassius. He's tempted to skip ahead and read about them, but the final chapter of the book catches his eye, The Unnamed Pair. If the chapters progress chronologically, that would mean the last chapter is about Joe and Tessa. But that didn't make any sense. How could someone write about them when they had barely begun their training? Who even knew about them yet?

He flips through the pages until he gets to chapter eighty-two, the final chapter. There is only one paragraph.

At this time, the Eighty-Second Pair is rising to power, the youngest wizards to begin training for Greatness. Not much is known about them at this time. Their mentors  (see Chapter Eighty-One: The Twins) are keeping tight-lipped about any and all details. This is understandable given the pair's destiny. No other Great Wizard has faced such a daunting quest as theirs: to preserve or destroy life as we know it.

Sam yelps and shoves the book away from him. No way that's true. How could some random author know so much about Joe and Tessa? But could that explain why they were both acting so weird at dinner? Did Cas and Ro tell them their destiny? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He'd have to ask Joe about this later.

"You okay?" June's question catches him off-guard.

"What?" Sam blinks at her, confused by her concern. Didn't she hate him five minutes ago? "I'm fine." He hoped his face looked calmer than he felt.

"You just screamed at a book and threw it away. That's like, the opposite of fine."

He eyes the book on the ground. He gently picks it up and walks back over to June. He places it on the table as gently as if it were a bomb. "That book is magic."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. We're at a magic school. Most of the stuff in here is magic."

"No, look." He flips to the chapter that scared him. "There's a chapter in here about Joe and Tessa. It says that they're destined to either "preserve or destroy life as we know it." How could a book possibly know that? How could this author even know about them? They've only been together for a year!"

Despite all of Sam's pointing and practically shoving the book in June's face, she ignores the words before her. "I think you already answered that question. Magic, duh."

He frowns. Sam is a man of science and all this magic stuff just made no sense to him, which was a new sensation. Even time travel was possible in theory and was something he could wrap his head around. He was used to being the smartest kid in the room, already knowing everything that was in the textbook before they even discussed it in class. He could do college-level calculus and even made inventions in his spare time. Magic simply did not fit into his world of ones and zeros.

"Doesn't Joe own a magic book? Why are you so weirded out by this book?" She doesn't look at him when she speaks. She simply toys with the pen in her hand and keeps her focus on her books.

He can't argue with her there.

He looks back at the page and notices a blinking line just below the paragraph about his friends. Like a computer cursor waiting to type out more letters. Is this book being written in real-time?

He slams it shut and places it back on the shelf where he found it. He'd met his weirdness quota for the day.

Forgetting Juniper's earlier protests, Sam takes the seat right across from her again. "How do you deal with all this magic stuff?"

She sighs and sets down her pen, realizing that she's not getting any research done tonight. "I told you last summer, magic is a form of science. Just because you don't understand it, doesn't make it any less real." She fans her arms out around her. "I'm sure there are plenty of books in here that will help you adjust to this new world. Why don't you grab a few to look over?"

Sam glances at the long rows of books, unsure where to start. None of the shelves have any labels to indicate how everything is organized, not that he would understand the subject material anyway. He doubted any of the books would be called "Magic for Dummies" or "So You're a Mortal in a Magic World". Which just means he has to search deep if he wants to find anything helpful.

He gets to his feet and begins to scan the shelves for any books or resources that might help him. He could spend a month in here and still not see everything. He'd have to check and see if there was some sort of cataloging system somewhere. Surely, a library this large would have some way to find specific resources. 

After a few minutes, he returns to the table with four books. Just from looking at the titles, he already has a handful of questions.

Without thinking about it, he starts to fire them off at Juniper, waving and slicing his hands through the air with each question. "So, if there's an entire magical world out there, why are there magic users on Earth? Or are Joe and Tessa the only ones? If they are the only ones, why were they chosen? Can anyone learn to do magic? And if magic is really a science like you say, then it has to abide by the laws of physics. But everything I've seen has broken all of those laws. Unless, of course, magic is operating on a quantum scale, but that just causes even more confusion."

His eyes zero in on hers and frowns, not understanding why she hasn't responded yet.

Juniper blinks, giving Sam a slightly fearful expression. She twists her hair around her fingers. "I didn't think anyone's brain worked that fast. You're kind of unsettling, you know that?"

He falls back in his chair, blushing. Though to be fair, he's hardly the weirder one here. Juniper's the one who talked about magic as if it were part of everyday life. Which, he supposed, it is for him now. And what's with those odd notebooks she keeps hiding from him? Whatever is written inside of them is not "normal".

June drops her hair in front of her eyes. "I can't answer your questions if you ask a hundred of them at the same time."

Sam stills and studies her out of the corner of his eye. Was she really going to help him out of all his confusion?

"It sounds like your main question is how is magic a science?" She peers at him through the thick strands of her dark hair.

He mutely nods, still not sure if she's going to give a sincere response or not. She had proven to only be annoyed by him so far. He'd been bullied enough times at school to know that not all kindness was genuine.

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, pushes her hair back, and leans forward. "Magic follows the most important law: energy can neither be created nor destroyed. All magic is energy conversion. From what I've studied so far, magicians and wizards, real ones, not the kind you hire for a kid's birthday party, are born with an innate connection to the universe that the rest of us don't have. They can take energy from different aspects or elements of the universe, like time or space, and through their bodies convert that into something new. Make sense?"

She spoke with calm conviction, like a professor giving a lecture on their area of expertise. What she said did make sense, but it still left him with a million questions.

"I guess, but to be honest this all sounds like fake science. Like something a person who believes in astrology or energy crystals would say." He scratches his chin and begins to skim through the pages of one of his books, slowly falling into the sense of comfort academic debate gave him. "Am I supposed to believe all of that is real too?"

"Not all of it, but some of it. There are definitely wizards out there who can heal through crystals. Though most of the people who claim to be able to do it on Earth are full of it and are just looking to scam customers. Genuine magic users are rare. Most of them prefer to live in Mancika or one of the other magic kingdoms since they don't have to hide what they are there."

"Have you been to any of those places?" Suddenly, the girls' advanced experience with magic feels intimidating.

June shakes her head. "No, but I've seen pictures and maps. Mancika in particular looks beautiful. It's the current magic capital of the universe, like what Cealus used to be. It's perfectly designed to represent each kind of magic equally.  There are schools for wizards to study and hone their crafts. There's even a stadium there for magical tournaments and fights." She sighs wistfully, staring off at nothing and absentmindedly taps a page in her notebook. The blood from her earlier cut is splattered on the page. "I would love to see it someday."

"Me too," Sam says without thinking. It catches him off-guard, but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of seeing a magic city in person. He would definitely get all the answers to his questions, and he'd be able to research all sorts of new things too.

"Really?" She looks at him, doubt written all over her face. The statement caught her off-guard too. "No offense, but I think we've already established you're more of a reader than a doer."

"I think everyone learns better when they have a live demonstration."

As if on cue, something crashes to the ground in the rows of bookshelves behind them. A round of groans soon follows.

Sam shrinks back. "What was that?"

"Your live demonstration." Juniper stares down at the spot in the book she was tapping and doesn't hesitate any longer. She hops to her feet and walks towards the sound, quickly disappearing in the tall lines of knowledge.

When she doesn't immediately come back or call out, Sam reluctantly gets to his feet and follows her deeper into the library. Fortunately, or maybe not so much, he's able to catch up to her.

"Are we really doing this?"

"We? I want to know what made that noise. You're cowering behind me like Chicken Little." June shrugs Sam's hands off her shoulders. "Don't think I've forgotten how scared you were last summer."

"You mean when you jumped into a cave because you heard imaginary voices?" he retorts. "I think that's a perfectly reasonable excuse to be afraid."

"I know what I heard," she mumbles under her breath and pushes ahead, away from him.

He stumbles to keep up. "And what do you plan to do when you find whatever made that noise?"

June shrugs. "I don't know? Make sure it's okay? That crash sounded painful."

The suggestion surprises Sam. His immediate reaction had been to run away, but maybe she was right. What if it was a person who made that sound? And what if they were hurt? He moves to walk beside June rather than behind her.

They reach the site of the crash and find a shattered globe and a couple of books on the ground. No blood in sight, but a few more scattered books lay on the ground further down the row.

June pushes on, going further and further down the shelves. "Hello?"

No response.

"Hello?" she tries again. Still no response.

"Maybe whoever did it ran away? We could search inside the library for hours and still not have seen half of it. We can't spend all night in here trying to find whoever made that mess." Sam picks up his pace to catch up to Juniper. "June? Are you listening to me?"

He can see the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes scan the floor, searching for any clues as to where the intruder or beast went. She had made a complete transformation. Where the shy girl who hid behind her hair he was talking to just a few minutes ago? "June?"

She comes to a sudden stop. "Shh. Did you hear that?"

At first, Sam can't hear anything. He waits a few more moments. Still, he doesn't hear any noise. He takes an unsteady step away from June. "I don't hear anything." The intense look in her eyes makes him uneasy.

"There it is again! This way!" She grabs him by the arm and pulls him down another endless row.

Sam's beginning to have flashbacks to the previous summer in Cealus. These rows of books remind him too much of the catacombs under that ancient city, and he wouldn't be surprised if they stumbled upon skeletons in here either. What noise is June hearing?

They fly through the library. Rounding corner after corner, until Sam isn't sure where they are or how to get back to their study table. He lets June drag him to the end of the row before pulling away.

"Stop!" he pants. "Where are we going? And what exactly did you hear?"

June's momentum carries her farther down the path before she comes to a stop. "It was the same voices from last summer. Someone else is in here. We can't let them get away from us. I need to know what they're saying."

"You don't even know what they're saying?"

"I- no. Whatever it is, it isn't English. I need to find them. Stay here if you want." She turns and runs off once more.

"June, wait!" Sam takes off after her.

He quickly loses sight of her, but he can hear footsteps slamming into the floor in the next row over. He takes a sharp left and catches a glimpse of her black hair flying around the corner just ahead of him. He tries his best to catch her, but running was much more Fred's thing than his. Gradually, he begins to slow down.

Just as he's starting to lose hope, he spots Juniper in front of him. She's far away, but she's no longer running. Sam jogs to her. More relieved to stop running than anything else.

"What were you thinking?" he manages to breathe out. "You just left me back there. Who knows how long it would have taken me to find my way out."

He swallows one more gulp of air before noticing that they stopped back at their study table, how still June is, and most importantly, that they are no longer alone.

A man who looks like a Gregorian monk stands over Juniper's notebooks, peering down, but not touching them. Well, 'stands' doesn't really describe it. More like floats over. There is a clear gap between his feet and the floor. And if that wasn't weird enough, Sam could see right through him.

The monk lifts his head, finally noticing the kids. His gaze focuses in on June.

The temperature of the room plummets as a pressure builds behind Sam's eyes, nearly knocking him down. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, but as much as he wants to, he cannot move. Some invisible force holds him down, and he can't look away from the man.

The man says nothing, merely nods his head, and turns to leave, quickly disappearing among the stacks of books.

Several minutes pass before the pressure in Sam's head fades and he can move again. "Nope," he says, shaking his head rapidly. "No, thank you. No."

He grabs June by the arm and drags her out of the library. She doesn't protest, apparently still under the ghost's spell.

Ghost. That's what it was. No other word for it. Sam had just seen a ghost. Even after all the insane things he, Joe, and Fred had been through and seen together, the confirmation that ghosts exist is just too much for him. He wants nothing to do with it, and he can't let June get caught up in it either. Especially not after the way it looked at her like it knew her. Even if they aren't technically friends, getting her away from that library and the monster inside it is simply the right thing to do.

What is in those notebooks? It must be important because June wasn't letting them out of her sight. But what could be written down that would attract the attention of a ghost? Nothing good, surely.

They make it all the way to the entrance hall before Juniper says anything.

She tears her arm away from Sam. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, and he can tell she wants to yell at him, but the words just aren't coming to her.

"Why did you do that?" She finally manages to get out. "Now I have to go all the way back to the library to get my notebooks."

"You can't go back." He stares at her with wide eyes. "That ghost-thing was going to hurt us."

"No, he wasn't. He walked- err, floated away." June promptly spins on her heels to head back to the library. "And you heard what he said. I can't just walk away from him."

"What he said? He didn't say anything. What are you talking about?"

She pauses, letting her hair fall into her face. "Well… I guess it isn't so much what he said. I just, know what he wants."

Sam can tell she's lying even without seeing her face, but he's not brave enough to question her about it. If she says she didn't hear the ghost, then she didn't hear the ghost.

"I have to get my books back. Next time you see me studying, please leave me alone."

Sam doesn't even have time to protest as June makes her way out of the entrance hall and back to the library. Well, if June wouldn't listen to him, hopefully, she'd listen to her friends or even Rowena and Cassius. Surely, they would help him. Did they even know they had ghosts living in their mansion?

He nods to himself, deciding to bring it up tomorrow at breakfast to everyone. Until then, he would hide out in his room for the evening. He'd had enough strangeness for one night.

[godlyborn]

cause all my life i’ve been fighting. / bailey pt. ii.

date: december 1, 2020 trigger warnings: abandonment mention

part i // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii

Bailey was sitting in the waiting room of her therapy office. Her legs bouncing up and down, her eyes focused on the letter she still hadn’t opened. Bailey was glad that she had an appointment that week, because after this bombshell, along with the struggles she was having with Abel, she needed it. When she heard her name come from across the room, her head shot up. Bailey let out a sharp smile at Melissa, her therapist. She jumped up, following the other to her office. 

“How are you doing today, Bailey?” she asked, opening the door for the blonde.

Bailey stepped into the room from behind Melissa, taking her usual spot on the dark blue couch in her office. Bailey crossed her legs. “You know, I’ve been better,” Bailey replied. “A lot has happened.”

“Yeah? Are you practicing what we’ve worked on, to cope with whatever is going on?” Melissa asked, eyebrows raised, writing some things down. “Remembering what is healthy?”

Bailey bit her lip. Even though at first it had been easy to lie to Melissa, but after a while and after Bailey began to break down, whenever she had a problem, it wasn’t so easy anymore. “Okay, I swear I tried to, but my mind kind of got wrapped around itself. It was like it couldn’t process the information it was given.”

“Okay, why don’t you try telling me about the information it was given, and we’ll start there, yeah?” Melissa asked.

Bailey nodded. “There’s a lot to unpack, are you sure you’re ready?”

“As long as you are, Bailey.”

Bailey nodded. Bailey then went into her whole spiel of everything. She talked about Abel, and how it felt when they couldn’t promise that they wouldn’t leave her again. She explained how it felt that it was like she was still grieving them even though they were not alive again. She also blamed herself. Bailey knew that she could’ve just told Abel that it was okay, that she’d accept it, just because she wanted them to be in her life again, because she did, she wanted Abel in her life. Bailey spoke about how that scared her. How she felt like she wasn’t good enough, that she would never be good enough, something she thought about her entire life, even after she found a home in Camp Halfblood. 

As complicated her and Abel were, they were family, and for them to just ignore her after everything, made her angry. It made her feel unloved and unwanted, and when they told her they couldn’t promise to be there for her, that hurt her even more. Bailey had always looked up to Abel, like an older sibling. Bailey told Melissa how much it hurt when they died, but Rory was hurting too, if not more. Bailey had to tell herself it didn’t hurt so much, that it would be better if she just ignored it. 

“How did it feel that they finally spoke to you?” Melissa asked.

“I’m mad, no, no, I’m furious,” Bailey corrected. “They’re my family, and they ignored me. Then they tell me that they can’t promise to be there for me, to not do that again.”

“Okay, past your anger, how do you feel,” Melissa added.

Bailey scrunched her nose, Melissa knew her too well. Bailey covered everything up with anger. It was easier to deal with. “Hurt, mostly. Part of me felt good that they actually wanted to talk. And,” she sighed, “Abandoned. “ She hated that word. She felt as though her whole life was defined by that word. People left Bailey, it was just normal, but Bailey also pushed people away when she was hurt by them. “Like Jesus Christ, all they needed to do was tell me they weren’t going to leave me again. Why is that so hard? Am I not good enough to fit in their life anymore?”

“Why do you think that you’re not good enough?”

“I don’t know, it’s just something I think.”

“Do you think maybe the reason that they couldn’t promise you that, has more to do with them?” Melissa asked, raising her eyebrows at the blonde.

Bailey furrowed her brows in question. “Why would it be? The constant is people leave for me. Abel, Declan, all those foster parents, Zeus, my Mom.”

Melissa paused for a moment. “It’s been a while since you have mentioned your biological mother,” she pointed out.

Bailey let out a sigh through her nose. She knew she was going to let it slip. “Abel’s apparently not the only one who wants back into my life.” Bailey showed Melissa the unopened letter. “I got this from my mom.”

“You haven’t opened it?” she asked.

“No. I spent my entire life knowing she gave me up because she couldn’t take care of me. What if this says otherwise? What if it becomes a disaster like my conversation with Abel. What if I screw it all up? What if she thought she wanted something with me, then she meets me and I’m not what she wanted. I mean, it wouldn't be the first time.”

“Well I guess you have two options then,” Melissa replied. “It’s understandable you feel this way. You think you got over your mom leaving, but your body still feels it. Your body knows what it feels like to be left. You are doing everything in your power to not feel that again, even if it means sabotaging things yourself. I don’t think you’re doing that though. I think you’re just scared, it’s understandable you feel that way. You either need to throw the letter away, or you need to open it and find out for yourself what she wants to say to you.”

“What do I choose?”

“Well, you have to do that for yourself, Bailey,” Melissa said. “You have all the tools to deal with this, in a healthy way. You just have to apply them.”

&&&&&&&&&&&.

Hours later, Bailey sat on the steps of the Zeus cabin once more. She stared at the still unopened letter in her hands. You have two options, echoed in her head. Bailey sighed again, and then let out a soft groan. “Fuck it,” she said to herself, before tearing open the letter, reading it.

Dear Bailey,

I’m not entirely sure how to start this. I’m not even sure you’ll ever get this. It has been so long. I’ve been told that sometimes, to right your wrongs, you have to face your fears. You, Bailey, you have always been one of mine. Giving you up, though it was for the best, has always been my biggest regret, and I’ve always wondered if wherever you went, you were loved as much as I loved you. 

I hope that you grew up to be the person I always knew you could be, strong, kind, beautiful. You were everything I wished in a child, and I wish I could be there right now to see the woman who I gave birth to. 

I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this letter. Wherever you are, I just want to make sure that you know, I am sorry for what I did when you were a baby. I loved you so much that I knew I had to give you up. You deserved a much better life that I could’ve ever given you nineteen years ago. I want you to know, I love you. 

Even if we never meet again, I will understand if you don’t want anything to do with me. You were so young, and that’s a different part of your life now. I know I will never replace the family that you have now, but I just needed you to know, you were so loved, and I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.

As long as I’m living, Your biological mother, Hannah.

Bailey touched the necklace that she wore everyday that was given to her from Hannah. As long as I’m living, a phrase so familiar to Bailey, written in the old tattered letter Bailey has kept since she was a kid, along with it engraved in the back of the necklace. Bailey always wondered what it meant. A teardrop fell upon the letter Bailey was holding. She didn’t even recognize she was crying till she saw the wet spot on the paper. Her eyes trailed to it, following it down the page, before settling up a phone number written below Hannah’s name.

She shouldn’t, should she?

Bailey didn’t even answer her question before her hand was dialing the phone number on the page. Bailey let it ring twice, begging for no one to pick up. Her heart felt like it was in her throat. She heard the other end pick up and Bailey quickly hung up. Bailey took a few deep breaths to try and calm her beating heart. Her hands were shaking when she redialed. She just needed to hear the other’s voice. She wanted to know what she sounded like, to know if she sounded similar. Bailey put the phone to her ear.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three--- “Hello?” Bailey was silent for a moment. She sounded happy. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

Bailey let out a shaky breath, unsure of what to say. What do you say to someone who is your mother, but you haven’t seen since you were one year old. What the fuck do you ever call them? “Hi, uh,” Bailey started. She gulped down the fear rising in her chest. “Is this Hannah?”

“Yes, and who am I speaking to?”

“Bailey.”

[victoodles]

Corruption (Crowley x Angel Reader) Part 1

I finished Good Omens yesterday and I wrote this today. The second part (aka the filth) will be coming soon! Also on AO3!

Goody Two-Shoes

That’s what he'd been calling you for the past 6,000 years or so. You were a rule-abiding angel - obediently following orders with no questions asked. Always with an eager flap of your wings. Past tense, however, is key here.

Were.

Now you found yourself lazily draped over the arm of a demon’s throne in his own abode, white dress pooling around your thighs. A cup of wine in hand, held up in the air as you idly swished the liquid. You felt like a girl in one of those oil paintings you saw during the Renaissance.

Like ‘The Venus of Urbino’

Crowley chuckled, bemused but humored. “Like the what now?”

“Oh! Nothing,” you said, forgetting the thought with a swig of your drink. You hadn’t realized you’d actually spoken aloud.

He had recently turned you on to the joys of wine: Chardonnay, Sauvignon blanc, Cabernet, the list goes on. Those uppity Archangels had created a trend amongst the humans. They claimed the stuff was a vice, abhorrent, and immensely sinful. How drab.

Later on, they passed it down the angel hierarchy as gospel, essentially condemning it. It was clearly meant for slothful humans with no faith. You made it a priority to avoid it at all costs, lest you eternally displease your overseers.

However, it seemed Crowley was to be much more...persuasive than the hogwash lectures from Gabriel and Michael. The influence they had over you was unraveling, as much as you tried to deny it.

For this, Crowley seemed to find quite a bit of fun in teasing you throughout the centuries. He ruffled your feathers, quite literally. You had always been by the books - no ifs, ands, or buts. After all, the higher-ups did assign you to tote after Aziraphale once he “lost” his flaming sword. Keep him on the straight and narrow. You hadn't expected the infamous snake of Eden to be along for the ride.

Crowley had quickly made a game with his friend on how many times in one conversation he could make you scoff in contempt. His current record was seventeen.

But the tit for tat was never malicious in nature like his kind was so inclined towards. Much like Aziraphale, he thoroughly enjoyed your company and the banter along with it.

Perhaps even a tad more than Aziraphale.

Try as you may, you couldn’t fathom why the angel would ever keep the company of a demon like Crowley. Demons and angels went together as well as one could expect of fire and gasoline. But despite all your angelic instincts, you decided to keep their friendship (and yours) out of your reports to Heaven.

And as much as you tried to remain prickled towards him, you soon found yourself inching closer and closer to Crowley.

“So I told Cain, ‘In my humble opinion, I think Abel isn’t worth his sheeps' shit.’ I thought he would take it out on his brother’s herd, not beat him to death with a rock,” Crowley explained with an exasperated sigh. “Alas.”

Appalled but not surprised, you clapped a hand over your mouth. “You aided in creating humankind’s first killer?!” Pride tugged at the corner of Crowley’s lips at your declaration.

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds far more exciting doesn’t it?”

You threw a velvet cushion at his head - he dodged it with a laugh. “Crowley! That’s terrible,” you squealed. Crowley leaned back on his palms along his stone table, shrugging nonchalantly.

“In my defense, Cain did receive protection and promises of vengeance from God afterwards,” he said as if it were something to boast about.

“Only for the price of everlasting exile,” you barked back dryly. Crowley regarded you from behind his sunglasses, a devilish (no pun intended) smirk on his face.

“Oh sorry, princess, I forget how positively tame you are in comparison.” Pink rushed to your cheeks at the emphasis on your new nickname. He had a plethora of them -  sometimes a new one for each day of the week.

But the innuendo behind this one had your wings twitching against your back, eager to hide your newfound bashfulness. It was a habit you inadvertently developed whenever Crowley decided to get especially cheeky with you.  

“E-excuse me,” your voice wavered, rising an octave with each pronounced syllable. Crowley’s simper only grew. He brought the bottle of wine on the table to his lips, ignoring the glass he had already poured.

“You’re not exactly the most anarchic, princess. Peace and order appeals to you too much to have any real fun,” he mocked with a click of his tongue.

How dare he!

You turned your nose up at him, “I’ll have you know, Mister Crowley, that I can be quite adventurous.” As if to prove the sentiment, you raised your glass at him. “See? I’m drunk, with a demon!”

That last point was made to really drive home the fact of how bad you were. Crowley was not impressed. He took a hearty sip from his bottle, rolling his eyes in the process. Your frustration only grew at his dismissal.

Crowley regarded you as he drank, loving how the remnants of your blush left your cheeks an enchanting shade of red. You always seemed to captivate him regardless of circumstances. To say he was attracted to your purity, amongst other things, wouldn’t be too far from the truth

A purity he selfishly wanted all to himself.

The demon found himself quite enamored with you for reasons that would be too...saccharine for someone of his ilk to admit. But when you look at him with your big doe-eyes, the heart he swears he doesn’t have beats just a little bit faster. Though he persistently insists it’s just to appear more human when Aziraphale inquires.

He can’t help it. The moment that innocent gaze turns into a fiery glower, he swears he’s never seen anything more intense in his existence.

Sultry. That’s the best word he can use to describe you right you right now. Pursing your lips on the rim of your glass, you attempt to quell your agitation with wine. Your free arm hand loosely grasps the back of the chair, head lolled. He took note of how much leg you were showing as you gently swung your feet back and forth. There wasn’t an ounce of virtue in your posture.

If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought you a succubus, attempting to disarm and seduce him.

A thought crossed his mind as he released the bottle from his mouth with a pop.

“You know,” he began, slowly licking the remnants of wine off his lips. You noticed, and tried to ignore the thrumming in your chest. “I bet you’ve never indulged in any of the other physical pleasures humanity has to offer,” he said lasciviously.

Plush feathers tickled your spine as you desperately tried to contain your wings. You lurched forward in your seat, choking on wine while he has the gaul to snicker at you.

“The audacity-“

“Well have you,” he cuts you off before you can chastise him. You’re taken aback by how forward he’s being. Petulance then fills you.

“O-of course I have,” you sputter pathetically. He quirked an eyebrow, silently asking you to continue. You face forward, straightening yourself out in a sad attempt to gather more composure.

“...There was a sweet Parisian lad who took me to Carnaval way back when. He tried to teach me to dance and, well, you know how the saying goes. In the end he graced me with a kiss on the cheek under the moonlight. Oh, it was all rather romantic.”

“Quite the little minx, ain’t you? I feel like a sinner in church just listening to ya, princess,” Crowley huffed, throwing back another gulp.

You were burning up more than you knew possible. While other ethereal inhabitants may choose to partake in certain...activities, you decided to stick to modesty. To be chaste. It’s how all proper angels should be!

Right?  

“And I suppose you have then,” you grumbled, defeated.

With that, Crowley’s demeanor shifted. Previous inhibitions gone from a simple question.

He placed the bottle back down, removing his sunglasses in the process. Serpentine eyes, half lidded and glowing a faint yellow in the evening light, bore into you. His legs spread tantalizingly.

Another pang against your ribs.

It suddenly ceased when he pushed himself up and began to saunter over to you.

“Why yes,” he said sensually as he approached.

“Yes.”

Step.

“I.”

Step.

“Have.” His hand found a perch on the ornate backrest as he towered above you. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and stood between them. You inhaled sharply, your glass slipping from your grasp and shattering harshly on the floor beside you. Neither of you paid the mess any mind.

Crowley chuckled darkly, daring to lean in closer. “Lust, quite an enjoyable thing really. Lucifer truly did the world a kindness with that particular circle of Hell,” he mused, looking downward almost fondly. His free hand caressed your cheek, featherlight.

Ironically, you felt heavier. The weight of your unspoken attraction to the demon was crashing down upon you. You tried, for countless years, to subdue any unseemly desires. An angel could not intimately coexist with their mortal enemy, a demon.

...Right?

It had always been a challenge the more attached you became to Earth. To Crowley. Your efforts were tumultuous, yet overall successful. But now, in this moment, it was unbearable.

Suffocating.

Again Crowley slid closer, noses mere inches apart. The sweetness of the wine still lingered on him. “Skin on skin. A heat in your belly that can only be satiated by submitting to carnal urges. Kissing, biting, fucking,” he purred against the shell of your ear.

An unfamiliar shiver wracked your body; you’ve never been this close to another soul before. The rumble of his impish laughter sent that same shiver lower that time.

Those eyes, snakelike but bewitching, they had to be putting you in some sort of trance. It was intoxicating - may it forever bound you within it’s honied depths.

Those eyes.

Behind them was longing, need, warmth.

“Tell me, Angel,” his thumb traces your plush bottom lip. “Would you like to know?”

Ensnared.

“K-know what?” The words were barely a whisper.

The devil always hears.

You planted your own Garden of Eden and reached for the apple of your own accord. The snake hisses with delight from beyond the underbrush.

“Would you like to know what it’s like?” His lips are almost upon yours now, waiting patiently for what they knew would eventually come.

Temptation is a cruel master.

[zibvs]

whatever, binch.

as the only child of a U.S. general officer, from little details to unique encounters, her life would have not been categorized as ordinary by any stretch of the imagination. moving around from post to post had one particularity in common ; that same old list of qualities anyone could acquire from enlisting in the army, brought to you by abel weiss himself. the yellowish page engraved with her father’s handwriting highlighted the importance of leadership, of teamwork, of discipline and versatility, of being able to work under pressure and meet deadlines, among a whole other bunch of skills ziba would get quizzed on at breakfast and dinner ( lunch was the exception ; her mother never did care much for his military traditions ), right after berakhah. much to nava weiss’  dismay, her daughter’s childhood was more of a boot camp preparation than it was a time to get dizzy in the roundabout at the park. 

as much as ‘ home ’ became an army base rip-off under abel’s hand, by being her martial arts trainer and by putting her in rather unpleasant situations ( i.e. pushing her into a pool without any prior swimming experience whatsoever --- because that’s how you teach your child how to stay afloat --- to see how quick on her feet she was ), ziba learned what her strengths and weaknesses and limitations were. out of habit, one that continued on and was improved during her time in the military, she rose at the reveille, for example, whether those maddening trumpets that made her yearn for the equally annoying chirping of birds were nearby or not ; and hunger tended to strike right on time every day. her body worked at its own time, had its own rules and regulations ; and even though any disruption hardly got as much as an idle sigh out of her, no change did ever go unnoticed.

so when her well-trained body started to feel different, it raised some red flags. at first, she had written it off as a cold. the nausea, the fatigue, the congestion ---- a neverending flu that, granted, was a pain in the ass. the following weeks, and the exhaustion that came along with them, ziba thought of it as not fully recovering from the mess viruses made and overdoing her job at callahan’s --- that’d explain the soreness and wasn’t rare. 

her mind was sharp, its processing was enviable ; always driven by reason and splendor. but never --- not once --- did she consider the possibility of a pregnancy, as that was the number one thing she never foresaw in her life.

AND HOW COULD SHE? nothing about her screamed warm or motherly, and who’s top say she even has a mother instinct waiting to be awakened? the mere sight of a child made her uncomfortable ; their babbling, their snotty noses, their inability to express themselves----- it aggravates her ; she doesn’t have the skills to understand them, and all she’s able to do is glare in frustration. there’s absolutely no guarantee that any of this would turn out to be a success---- nothing’s ever prepared her for something like having a CHILD.

her choice, what to do next, is a no-brainer ; she knows it, and everyone that knows her knows it... but then there’s the fact that termination did not cross her mind as she made her way to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test, and two extra just for good measure. it wasn’t there when she took them, or when she set them on a flat surface and waited for the results. again, not once.

two to four minutes, the box said, and time’s essential to brace yourself for impact. breath in, breath out. but time’s a bitch as well, and the clock barely marks a whole minute when the three blue crosses begin to make themselves clearer. she stares at them and the sticks stare back at her. an eyebrow kinks and unremarkably so, and she’s... hungry; famished, even. it’s all she can focus on because fully processing this brand new, life-changing information is just bizarre and weird and ridiculous and not what she wants. 

it’s not her fault, she doesn’t think, that she walks with a haziness to her; a curse, some may say, that affects not her, but everyone around her---- which she also does not care about. it’s a PROPHECY and she’s the ORACLE and it never fails to explain why her wires don’t connect quite right, not like the rest---- but it’s there, it’s her constant. 

and he’s someone she never expected or was prepared for.

the first night they shared a bed, ziba did not close her eyes until she was certain wolfgang was asleep. that’s not to say she suspected he would do anything to cause her harm, of course, but her father’s list never mentioned the demons you take home with you or the constant state of alert that takes years to get used to. and the funny thing is, that her best nights now include wolfgang’s arm thrown around her waist, the rise and the fall of his chest against her back soothing her in a way that makes sleeping addictive, and his heartbeat----- listening to his heartbeat and how it reminds her of HIS LOVE FOR HER despite, well, who she is? let’s say it’s not the worst thing to fall asleep to.

his lips tracing against her skin, his fingertips setting her body ablaze ; he makes her feel. although, to be fair, he clears away that ice numbing her heart. its existence within her ribs has been like a whisper amidst a crowd ; it becomes a roar that makes itself be heard when she merely thinks of him ( more times than she’s willing to admit, as we know ). it’s an uncomfortable twinge in her stomach that goes up to her chest, and it’s against all odds that she owns up to the begrudging... care, or affection, or whatever, that she submits to, leaving her wanting more ; asking for more time, to have met him sooner, even, especially when she learned of his heart condition. it never seems to be enough, but there’s no harm in trying to quench the unquenchable, right? 

so there she is, half a pastrami sandwich on hand and chewing on the other half as if she was never taught manners ; scowling at the goddamn sticks from the next room. with her back against the wall and a stuffed mouth, ziba lets out an exasperated huff ; anger bubbling up underneath her skin because first: the sandwich wasn’t even that good to begin with ( which also reminds her how wolfgang knows exactly what food she’s craving when she’s in a mood without as much of a glance to confirm it ---- and it’s weird, but she’s not the one to complain when food’s involved ) and second: the uncertainty of how much this would affect their... whatevership. did he even want kids? ever? he sure as hell never mentioned it and neither did she. she was bold & brazen in the midst of somewhere dark, not caring & comforting in the midst of holt grocery rummaging for the best diapers. and he was... well----- chances were he could be everything she couldn’t---- in a way, he already was.

she ambles solemnly as her mind goes ten miles per minute, reminiscing the days she’d read up on how intrinsic human behavior was and how some changes were beyond the individual’s reach. it hard-wires people--- love. their brains suffer changes ; their neurological pathways get altered and they make choices and decisions that otherwise wouldn’t. every step toward the hospital came with yet another reason as to why going through the pregnancy was a bad idea, like a weight plummeting down on her chest ; like bile crawling up her throat and charring everything within range, and a feeling she couldn’t quite identify. 

but it’s one reason alone that outweighs the rest ; one that unconsciously leads her straight to 1420 counts lane street instead, where the radio static her emotions become clears. it’s where she finds HOPE & PEACE & CLARITY and everything else disappears in favor of having his arms around her. the reason she needs to hear and see the other half, and why, against her better judgment, this ----- and anything, for that matter ---- doesn’t feel like an IMPOSSIBILITY.

and that reason is him.