#but gabriel is too proper and a coward | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenraeofsun · 3 years ago

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4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

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prettybirdy979 · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt List #1, #18: "Any other lies left to tell me?"

From this list - feel free to send me any other prompts from it or any of the ones in this tag.

Warnings for Gabriel, violence and Falling. This is very angsty

‘Please don’t hurt him, please don’t hurt him.’

Gabriel groans as Aziraphale starts up his little chant again, moving the knife away from the demon’s throat and letting the creature drop to the ground. He turns to face Aziraphale, bound to one of his stupid columns and crying out like he can make anything of a difference with words.

Aziraphale is crying too, the pathetic angel, face covered in blood he got from his own stupidity and is too daft to have bleed a proper gold instead of red. He looks ridiculous, all covered in human fluids and desperate with his eyes never leaving the unconcious demon at Gabriel’s feet.

‘I don’t want to hurt it, this whole thing is a waste of my time. I’d rather smite it and be done,’ Gabriel says with a sigh and Aziraphale makes a horrific noise. Urgh so upset over a creature. ‘But you won’t react to logic and you don’t care about anything actually important so I have to make do.’

‘I’ve told you everything, you have to let him go, please let him go, he’s not hurt you you can’t do this you said you’d leave us alone-’

Gabriel bends down and pulls the demon’s throat up again, placing his Holy knife there. Aziraphale shuts up.

Finally learning.

‘Much better. Now, can we try again with the explanations. Hoow does it work? How did you survive?’

‘I don’t know how we survived our executions,’ Aziraphale says, too much of a coward to look him in the eyes. His eyes are still on the demon. ‘The Will of God?’

‘Any other lies left to tell me?’ Gabriel growls and lets the knife touch the demon’s neck. ‘Cause I’ll use this the next time you try.’

Aziraphale weeps again, closing his eyes. ‘I know how we survived our executions,’ he says in a defeated tone.

Gabriel smiles. ‘See? Isn’t that easier?’ He lets the demon drop again and rises, moving to squat in front of Aziraphale. ‘Now, if you can just tell me I’ll be on my way and you can deal with what’s left of your thing over there.’

‘Love.’

‘...What?’

Aziraphale looks up with something burning in his eyes. ‘Love. I love him and he loves me and that is how we survived.’

Gabriel slaps the stupid blamesous creature. ‘How dare you lie like that? Demons do not love and I’m beginning to think you’re not capable of it either.’

‘How can you say that when you’ve never loved a thing other than yourself in your life?’ Aziraph- the creature snaps and Gabriel slaps it again on the other cheek.

‘Don’t do that again... Three times is a pattern,’ it says looking at him with sorrowful eyes. ‘Angels are forbidden from raising their hands to each other.’

Yes, yes the rules after the Fall. To raise arms against your fellow angels was to defy Her, to place yourself outside her care.

To Fall.

But that’s okay.

‘You’re not an angel,’ Gabriel snaps and slaps it again.

‘No, you’re not,’ it says sadly and everything goes cold as Her Grace leaves him.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #My Scribbles #My Story #tw blood #tw violence #Gabriel is his own warning #sparkkeyper

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vxmorpheus · 4 years ago

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The Crossroads to the beginning. P1

Tw - blood, and mentions of miscarriages

LONG post

"I... just don't think we can do this anymore, Eli. We can't just keep pretending nothing's happened," Michael spoke solemnly as he packed his clothes into his suitcase.

Eli stood by the door, fighting tears back, "you don't have to leave though! We can work things out, maybe-"

"No! ... no, Eli. We've tried working this out for 5 years, but you keep miscarrying! I-"

"Excuse me?! Are you blaming this on me?! It's not like I'm fucking trying to! I want a child just as bad as you do!"

He shouted back, "well it sure as hell doesn't seem like you want a kid!"

"So, you're saying I'm doing this on purpose?!"

"Yes! I don't think you ever wanted one in the first fucking pla-"

Eli slapped Michael hard. Hard enough that it jerked his head to the left, "get. Out."

He put his hand on his face, "Eli, I-"

"GET. OUT. GET OUT RIGHT NOW! LEAVE!" Eli screamed out. Michael jumped in surprise, then scrambled to close his suitcase and left quickly. Eli followed him to the door, slamming it shut behind him. She put her back against the door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor with her face in her hands. She sobbed into her hands before bringing her legs up, hugging them to herself for comfort. Eli didn't know how long she sat there crying, but by the time she got up, it was nighttime. She set a kettle onto the stovetop and walked to the window, looking out on the city... it felt much more empty and quiet now with Michael gone. "What am I going to do...? How am I going to pay rent...? I can't work..." the kettle cut off her ramblings to herself. She poured some of the hot water into a mug and put a teabag into it. Eli made her way to bed, walking by the spare bedroom that was meant for Michael and her baby... that was never to come. When she stood in the doorway of their bedroom, she stared at the empty king bed for a long time before turning around and going to the couch. She couldn't bear to sleep in that bed all alone.

Over the next couple of months, she and Michael got divorced. Which was easier than expected given there was no child to fight for custody of. She had also found out that he had actually been cheating on her for 3 months before he left her. She was pissed, not at the other woman, but rather at him. He was a coward. He was a liar. He never stood by Eli's side after each miscarriage. She was always left to heal by herself, to take care of herself even when she wasn't supposed to be walking and bending. She resented and hated Michael, she was actually happy she never had a kid with him... but she still wanted a child.

The money she saved and the money she got from the divorce helped her pay rent for some months while trying to figure out what she would do for income. One night, she was binge-watching a show with paranormal/supernatural themes and one of the characters went to a crossroads and summoned a demon then made a deal to save another character that was in a coma. Eli sat up slowly and thought, "if... maybe... I can do that... and make a deal for a job..." she grabbed her laptop and changed the channel to something else. She began doing research into crossroad demons, she had heard of them before but only for famous people. While she did research, the news played a recap of the election results... "Gabriel Kenward is the confirmed winner for governor. He and his wife are goi..." Eli zoned the tv out while reading steps on how to go about summoning a crossroads demon. She read up on every single website she could handle, even the ones making fun of people for looking or trying to summon a demon. Her eyelids felt heavy as she was reading a website specifically made for the supernatural practices, she could only read two paragraphs before she passed out on the couch. She felt herself falling in her dream, making her jerk awake. Eli sighed, annoyed, and got up, setting the laptop onto the coffee table. She walked around the couch to the kitchen to get some water, but... something felt off. She paused at her refrigerator and looked around. Everything looked normal but the air felt different for some reason. Eli shook her head and grabbed a glass, putting it in the water dispenser on her fridge. There was a pause... then liquid poured it into her glass before she yanked it away. Eli stared in horror at her fridge before looking at the glass, which had blood in it.

"You going to drink that?" A voice behind her asked humorously. Eli whipped around to see... something... sitting on the kitchen island. It was like her brain couldn't understand what she was looking at. "Didn't your mom tell you staring is rude?"

"I-I... wh...what are you?"

"What you're looking for," it took the cup from her and downed the blood, making Eli shudder in disgust.

"W-What do you mean?"

"Oh please, dear, you can't be that stupid."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm a demon, idiot."

"I am not an idiot! How the fuck did you get into my house?"

"Hah! I'm not inside your house. Well, not in the traditional sense. I'm in your dream. This is a dream, sweetheart."

"Don't fucking call me sweetheart. What do you want."

"Ooh feisty, I like that. It's not what I want, it's what you want," it jumped off the island counter.

"You are not what I'm wanting to summon."

"Yes, yes, I know. But, I can tell you how to properly summon a crossroads demon. Just be sure to mention me to him, hm?"

"What else do you want?" Eli snapped back.

It held its hands up, "oh, my dear, nothing. I just want to be mentioned. Might get me a promotion."

"... a promotion...? What the fuck? What does that mean?"

"It doesn't matter, just listen..." it leaned into her and whispered.

Eli sat up quickly, the sun shining into the living room and her phone blaring loudly to inform her that her friend was calling. She picked up the phone and talked to her friend for a bit before agreeing to meet up at a cafe. She quickly got ready and called a taxi, thinking about her dream the entire time. By the time she was snapped out of her thought, her friend was shaking her arm. Eli looked at her friend surprised, "what?"

Her friend gave her a concerned look, "how are you holding up? You're really out of it today." She took a sip of her coffee, "like... what's goin' in your brain right now?"

"What would you want if you made a deal with a crossroads demon?"

"Oh, you finally got to that episode? Hmm... money or fame. What about you?"

"To be in good health and have a fun and fulfilling career..."

"Huh, don't you want a kid still? I thought you'd ask for something like that," she froze for a second. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I-"

"No, no... you're right... I never thought of that..." Eli sat back in her chair and idly sipped at her frappe.

"Uh... anyway... h..."

Eli had zoned out for the rest of the day until night fell. She gathered everything she needed to summon this... demon... The idea of summoning a demon made adrenaline pump through her body. She wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement... or maybe both? Eli put everything in a bag and grabbed a butcher's knife before heading out. She looked at her cellphone GPS where she marked down a crossroads that was relatively outside of town and away from busy streets. Eli shoved the butcher's knife into her bag when the taxi drove up to her. Eli showed the man where she wanted to go and he gave her a weird look that said 'ok but why?' He took her to where she said and asked her as she was walking into the dark, "are you ok lady? Are you sure this is where you wanted?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Leave," he quickly left as Eli made her way crossroads. She opened a box she brought. "Ok... to do this successfully..." She took out the knife and took a deep breath before cutting her thumb a bit, smearing the blood onto her own photo and onto the white yarrow flowers. Eli closed the big and dug a hole, burying the box in the crossroads.

Nothing happened for a bit, making her the slightest bit embarrassed, but her body got the chills like something was behind her. Eli was the type to hate being scared in such a manner, so, not caring that this was probably a demon, she spoke, "I swear to fucking God, if I turn around and you are right behind me, I will not hesitate to punch you." She heard a quiet chortle and then some steps backing away from her. Eli was prepared to see something monstrous and scary, but... this guy was... normal looking? It looked just like a man in a nice suit with silvery-white hair.

"You actually did this in a proper way... so I guess I can't trick you too much... how may I be of service, love?" His eyes flashed red for a moment and he gave a sharp-toothed grin as he leaned back into a tree.

"Love? Did you just call me love?" The demon nodded, "don't fucking call me that, you mean nothing to me. You are only a means to an end."

"Oh my, so rude to somebody who's just tryin' to help," he looked slightly taken aback by her blatant honesty but tried to keep a straight and cool face. "Who told you how to do the summoning correctly? It's a rare treat."

"I don't fucking remember its name. It was a demon that came into my dream and told me to do it this way."

"Ohhh, my friend... well... I guess I did promise him a promotion if he got someone for me... anyway! What is it you need?" He pushed himself from the tree and took a step towards Eli, an evil look of amusement in his eyes. Eli held the knife like she was ready to fight someone to the death, "love, even if I wanted you to kill me or severely injure me, you wouldn't be able to. Humans can only exorcise demons and harm them with religious artifacts."

"I don't give a shit, I'm putting up a fight whether it matters or not," she said through clenched teeth. He continued walking towards her nonetheless, making her back away slowly until, in the most cliche way possible, she felt a tree blocking her path backward. He got up close, his body touching her body, and looked down at her with a smile.

He grabbed her chin and made her look at him, "did you just summon me here to fuck around with me, or are we making a deal, dear?" He grunted and looked down, seeing the knife stab into his left side. He looked back at Eli with amusement, "I told you, you can't hurt me. You have no power in this situation. Also, this was a brand new suit, ya know, now I have to take it in to get it fixed."

"Let me make it more expensive for you then," she took the knife out of his side and stabbed him again in a different spot. Then she took it out again and cut his shirt, cutting him in the process.

"Stop," he spoke aggressively, her antics starting to get on his nerves. He pushed himself away from her and looked down at his ruined suit, "are you fucking kidding me? Come on."

"Don't get into my space without consent then," she snapped.

"Humans and their consent... jeez..."

"Excuse me? Listen here you little shit," she marched towards him. He took a step back in surprise by her boldness. Eli was so much smaller than he was AND she was just a human, so why was he slightly scared? "Consent is important to have, it makes it so both parties are enjoying whatever they are doing. If one party says no, it means no. Say, 'no means no', right now."

"What on this forsaken p-"

"Say it. Right now," she held the knife up at him. There was silence between them, just eye contact. They stared at each other for a long time... it could've just been 30 seconds or it could've been 10 minutes. Time was insignificant to the demon and the human before him didn't seem to care either. She was going to keep going. Nothing was going to stop her from whatever her goal was, not even him being an asshole.

Holy Hell... she's... beautiful... what the fuck...? He thought to himself. "No means no," he finally spoke and broke the eye contact.

"Damn right," she only slightly lowered the knife, watching him with suspicion, which she had every right to do.

"L-Look, lady... I do not have any intentions of doing anything to you. Not anymore, at least. Just... what do you want?" He spoke softly to her.

"I want..." she lowered the knife all the way down. "I want a child."

He choked on nothing, "w-what!? A- what?! A child?! You could literally have a bunch of money or fame or the love of your life or-"

"I want to have a child," she spoke more sternly and with determination. He was beyond confused. Usually, humans always wanted the same things; money, power, love, etc.... but a child? He's never heard a human ask for a child. Having a child because she wants to bring a new life into the world... was that selfish? Humans are only selfish beings... was there selfishness in this request?

"But why? Just go have one yourself or like-" he stopped speaking, seeing tears in her eyes. "I-It's not-! It's just-! Fuck! I don't know!"

Eli sniffled, "do you really think I haven't tried to have a child of my own? Do you think I would just summon a demon just because I could? You have no idea what I've been through to have a child of my own! I-"

Suddenly arms wrapped around her, strong arms that felt... comforting and held her close, "I-I... You're right... I-... I have no idea what you've been through. But... I can tell that death follows you... so, I can gather an idea of what's happened... but I can't ever truly understand how you're feeling." He made a surprised sound at himself. Why was he comforting a human? Why was he being so nice? He was nearly 6,000 years old and here he was... hugging and comforting some human woman he's just met. He expected to be stabbed by Eli again, but nothing happened besides the sound of the knife clattering to the dirt. Now was his chance. He could do anything to her and she... 'no means no... no means no... no means no...' he repeated in his head. He felt her face shove into his chest and heard her sob loudly. He looked up above the trees at the stars and the moon, some clouds drifting by slowly. The demon rubbed her back idly while glaring at the sky. 'What are you doing to me. What are you planning', he thought into the air, directed at the big man himself. After some time, Eli pulled away and apologized, "no, no... you don't have anything to apologize for. I-If anything... I should be apologizing to you."

"Hah... a demon apologizing..." she sniffled and bent down to pick the knife up, he put his hand onto hers, keeping her from lifting it.

"I'm sorry," he said to her quietly and then took his hand away. She stood up and looked at him with surprise, but there was still suspicion in her eyes. Eli slowly put the knife away into her bag while watching him carefully for any movements. He looked down to the ground, "I don't intend on harming you in any way, but I understand why you're suspicious of me... I still want to grant your wish, so to speak... make a deal."

Eli perked up, eyes wide, "w-wait, really?"

"Yes... I'm sure it's against the rules though... but... I'll just break one rule. For you."

"So... I get to have a child... one that'll live a good long life?"

"I cannot guarantee the good part, but a long life I can."

"What is the ultimatum? 10 years?"

"Ah... see... that's the issue... since I'm breaking the rules for y-this... I have to cut it down to 5 years... n-now I-"

"Deal."

"Excuse me? We haven't even talked about how and when and all that other stuff."

"I don't care, just... deal. I'll take it."

"It's really reckless to just run into a deal without finalizing everything first. A demon could pull tricks and make terrible rules..." he put his hands together and then slowly opened them, a scroll appearing in flames in his hands.

"Well... are you going to do that?"

"No," he untied the scroll.

"Alright then... where do I sign?"

"W-What? You're just going to believe me just like that? What if I'm lying? I'm a fucking demon for hell's sake!"

Eli stared into his eyes for a short while before bringing them down to the scroll, "I trust you."

The demon stared at her for a while, feeling his non-existent soul swell, "...alright... so be it... sign here with your blood." She nodded and took out the knife, it still had black demon blood on it. She poked the tip of her pointer finger, using it as a way to sign. After she finished, the demon looked at her signature, "Elisa... a very nice name... joyful... it seems about right."

"Just call me Eli. What do you go by?"

The demon rolled the scroll closed, tying it up once again, then making it burst into flames, "the deal is done. Just... call me Sam."

"Alright, Sam it is then... what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like... how am I going to have a kid? It just happens or like..."

"A-Ah, right... in the traditional way humans have children."

"Should I go to a club, a dating app, or like... what?"

Sam felt the hairs on his neck stand up, "no! er... I mean... a club would probably be the best fit..."

"Is it already determined who's going to be the father?"

"You see, this would've been stuff to talk about before you signed the deal. Well... nnnnnnnnnoo-yes. Yes, the father is already determined."

"Can I ask who it is? Like what's his name?"

"You'll know it when you see him."

"...Alright..."

"Why are you not afraid?" Sam blurts out. He clears his throat, "I mean... like not afraid to go into the dark, in a place you don't even know, and summon a fucking demon."

"I don't have anything to lose," Eli said flatly. Sam winced slightly, "I need to get home. It'll be a long walk home... thank you for helping me even though I stabbed you a couple times."

"N-Now wait a second. You don't have a ride? Or a car? What about a taxi or whatever that taxi service thing is called on your cellphone."

"It uh... it died. I'm just walking... I don't drive either, so," Eli shrugged and turned away, about to make her way out of the trees. Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her back, accidentally(?) a bit too close, "what the hell? Let me leave."

"No! I... I'll take you home. There are weirdos and bad people driving at night on the highway, I can feel the sin..." he lied.

"What? ... I... uhm... I guess... but how are you going to take me home? I don't imagine you have a car, do you?"

"No, I have something better. I'm a fucking demon. Er... may I hold you closer for safety reasons?"

Eli raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, "just don't try anything with me."

"I won't," he took a deep breath, pulling her closer to his body while he repeated 'no mean no' in his head. He closed his eyes, "close your eyes and don't open them until I say so, no matter what you hear." He opened his eyes and looked down at her, she had her eyes squeezed shut. He nodded and mover his left art out and forward, holding it above his head before making a slow cutting motion downwards. A rip in reality formed, the inside of the rip showed hell and its lovely glow of flames. He stepped into the rip while holding Eli as close as possible, "do not open your eyes." He repeated as the sounds of screaming and torture began. She buried her face into his side and started holding onto him as well. Again, his non-existent soul swelled up and he gave Eli a comforting squeeze. Sam successfully made it to the other rip that was made without running into any other demons. He stepped through that rip and looked at a door to a house he presumed was Eli's house. "You can open your eyes."

Eli peeked an eye open, "where..." she looked at the door, "home... where did you take me?"

"What do you mean?"

"The screaming place," she pointed behind her and started to turn.

Sam panicked, sealing the rip shut immediately, "You can't look at it! It's dangerous! It could damn your soul, trap you there, all sorts of things could happen!"

"Why would that matter? Am I not damned anyway for making a deal with you? I know I go to hell after the 5 years are up."

"W-Well yes... but no... I... If that happens you won't have a kid!"

"Fuck... yeah..." she looked down at the ground, a small smile playing on her lips, "this isn't like some fucked up dream right?"

"N-No. What? Why would it?"

"It just feels unreal..." Eli pulled out of Sam's hold and walked up to the door, digging the keys out of her pocket. Sam reached out slightly, her not noticing at all.

"Well... it's real... I'm glad you're happy," he followed after her.

She unlocked the door and started turning around, "I really am... I really am happy." Eli jumped slightly and looked up at Sam who was behind her. They stared at each other for a long time before he dove in and kissed her, pushing her slightly against the door. Eli's eyes widen in surprise before closing them and kissing Sam back. She reached behind her and grabbed at the air for the door handle, finally getting it and opening the door. They pulled away from each other, both of them flustered, "t-thank you, S-Sam... maybe see you again?"

"A-Ah... y-yeah... of course..." he rubbed the back of his head, "I'd... I'd love to see you again..." He knew it was against the rules to see her again. But... what's two broken rules to a list of nearly 400? He started walking down the stairs. She gave a kind smile, closing the door slowly before pausing and opening it again.

"Sam."

"Oh! Yes?" He turned around, surprised to see her at the top of the steps, eye level with him.

Eli grabbed his tie and pulled him to her slightly, "come here."

"O-Oh? Oh! Ohhh..." he let himself be dragged into the house. "Eli... is this... like... I don't want to get the wrong idea... but..."

"Maybe, play your cards right," she said playfully, still pulling him by the tie. "Take your shirt and coat off," Sam did so quickly, handing them to her, "go sit in the kitchen." He nodded and went there as she did whatever with his shirt and coat. She came out with a white box and walked over to him, "you said I couldn't hurt you because I'm human, right?"

"Yeah... physically."

"Well... that doesn't matter to me. I don't care if you heal faster than normal or it doesn't hurt or anything. It's the principle of the matter," Eli opened the box and pulled out some first aid supplies.

"Eli, you don't-"

"I want to! I... I want to," she got a wet washcloth and started cleaning the dried black blood. The room was in comfortable silence for a good long time before Eli broke it, "I'm sorry for stabbing you twice, cutting your chest, and ruining your new suit..."

"Yo-"

"But you kind of deserved it."

Sam blinked and looked down at her, she was concentrating on the left side stab wound. He laughed, "yeah... I kind of did." He watched her work carefully as they made idle conversation. She was treating him like a person and not some creature that could tear your body to pieces... and he... kind of liked it. Demons never really talked to each other, let alone have personal conversations. Sam put his hand on his chest in surprise, feeling a throb of something or some emotion he's never felt before or hasn't felt in a very very long time.

"Are you ok?" Eli looked up at him with... worry in her eyes?

Sam tore his eyes away from her, "Eli, I need you to get away from me, right now." He warned.

"But, I'm just trying to help you. Why are you getting hostile?"

"Eli, p-please, get away from me. Please. I don't want to hurt you."

"Now you're threatening me?" She stood up and crossed her arms, "in my own house?"

"Eli, you aren't understanding what I'm saying. I need you to get away from me. For your own health and safety," Sam started shaking. "Please, I'm begging you."

"Tell me what's wrong. What's happening?"

"For fucks sake, Eli!" He got off the chair and took a step towards her, "I need you to... get... away from me... right now. Go! Get out of my sight! Hide!"

"H-hide?" Eli took a step back and looked at Sam closely, "o..oh... Oh!" She spun on her heel and ran down the hall and to the master bedroom. 'Ok... closet... no that's too obvious... bathroom... again too obvious... this is so stupid,' she thought to herself as she starts dragging herself under her bed. She gets into a comfortable position where she is one-hundred percent under the bed with no extremities poking out so she'd get yanked out like some horror movie. She steadied her breathing and waited... and wait...

...and waited

.........and waited...

She started getting tired and her body was aching from the way she was laying under the bed... but everything seemed clear. Maybe he was good now? She very slowly, inch by inch, as quiet as possible, pulled herself out from under the bed. She sighed once she was free from under the bed and got onto her hands and knees to push herself up. A sinister laugh came from behind her, "I was wondering how long you were going to stay under there."

She slowly turned around, seeing Sam laying on her bed, "S-Sam...? How did you get in here and onto the bed without me knowing?"

He shrugged, "I'm a demon, love. We have our ways."

"Sam, please... let's just go back to the kitchen so I can finish-"

"Mm, no," he stood up.

"Sam... please..." She slowly stood up.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that? What are you doing to me? What are you planning?" He walks up to Eli and pushes her back onto the floor easily, putting a foot on her chest to keep her down, "tell me."

"I-I'm not doing anything! I'm just trying to be nice!"

"Nobody is nice for no reason. What do you want?"

"There are people who are nice for no reason other than to m-" he pushed his foot down to make her stop talking.

"You are somethin' else, aren't ya?" He drops down to the floor to join her there. Sam reaches over to touch Eli's face, but she swats his hand away. He then grabs her wrist, her other hand coming and trying to get his hand off, only for him to grab that hand too, "just let me show you affection."

"No! Let go of me!" Eli shouts at him, trying to kick him. Sam moves and sits on her thighs, pinning each hand in its perspective side by her head.

"Why?" His eyes were wide and glowing in the dark, his pupils were dilated to their fullest amount as he looked down at Eli.

"Because I said no! No means-!"

"No. No... No!" Sam let go of Eli and threw himself off of her, wildly rubbing his eyes, "fuck! God damn it! Fucking... I'm sorry, Eli... I'm sorry... fuck, I'm so stupid."

"What is the fucking hell was that?!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry... fuck..." Sam stood up and kept rubbing his eyes, "this hasn't happened in 4,000 years..." He walked over to Eli, holding his hand out.

Eli hesitantly took it, Sam pulling her up, "ok, but what was that."

"I... in the past... it's only happened once to another woman... I... I killed her because I couldn't control myself. I was only 1,900 years."

"So, you would've killed me?"

"I'm sure you'd probably want to die after what happens..."

"What would have happened?" Sam gave her a look, "Oh... right... yeah... but why would I want to die?"

Sam laughed nervously, "let's not Uhm... talk about what happens, ok? It's... I... no, let's not talk about that."

"Uhhh..." Eli gave him a side-eye, "alright then... we won't talk about it... for now." Sam nodded and stared at the ground, "come on... let's finish cleaning your stabs. I would've stabbed you again if I had a knife."

"I know..." Sam said. Eli took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen, "why are you not kicking me out of your house?"

"I'll do that after I clean everything up," Eli looked back at him with a smile. Sam just stared for a moment before giving her a genuine and kind smile.

She changed him and he could feel it by the pounding in his chest.

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sylwritesstuff · 5 years ago

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After millions of texts and dozens of video chats over the long wait between winter and summer, the Mystery Best Friends are ready for a summer full of fun and romance in Gravity Falls.

After too many years of waiting and planning, something else waits in the shadows. And this time, he has Hellish help and enough power to draw the attention of one angel and one demon who would so much rather be doing anything other than trying to prevent another Armageddon.

Co-written by @syl-writes-stuff and @skimmingmilk

—

Chapter 16

"When's the last time you were in an actual fight, angel?"

"That depends on what you constitute as a fight, my dear. As in, do one-sided affairs count, or must blows be exchanged between two or more parties?" Aziraphale asked conversationally, for clarification purposes.

"A physical fight. Not really sure how that'd be one-sided."

"Well, that would be if only one person was, ah, roughed up a bit, so to speak. But if you mean a proper fight, then that would be… whenever it was that fencing came into fashion. Mid-1700s? All in good sport though, obviously."

He stopped following Cipher's movements to stare at Aziraphale instead. "Hang on, who the hell would corner you?"

Aziraphale sighed and gave him a look. "I'd think it would be quite obvious, given the nature of my so-called trial, but I'll give you a guess."

He had four names in mind immediately, but one would be more likely to give such orders than carry them out. He had a mental list compiled of who he'd introduce to Hellfire in what order and this new information slipped Gabriel down three notches. It'd probably be Michael or Uriel first. Sandalphon was too much of a hands-off sort than a physical one, bloody coward.

"Fuckers," he growled softly, glancing up as if to send his irritation straight into Heaven. Instead, he watched a triangle flicker in and out of sight and only just managed to whirl around to catch the knife that had been aimed straight for his back. "Still playing with knives, Cipher?"

"You can thank Hastur for the idea. He doesn't have many, so let's give him his due."

"Must we?" Aziraphale sighed, miracling the weapon away so Crowley wouldn't have to waste his energy on it. "I don't believe anyone's keeping score. I certainly won't tell him if you don't."

[Continue on AO3]

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dyslexicsquirrel · 5 years ago

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Title: Anything

Square filled: Prostitute

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Prostitute Dean Winchester, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), Anal Sex, Knotting

Word count: 2235

Created for @spnkinkbingo

What was he doing here? This was a horrible idea. Possibly the worst idea he had ever had and he once helped his older brothers sneak Scotch into Almac’s under the eagle eye of Lady Jersey, the most frightening omega the peerage had ever known.

“Oy, you gettin’ out or what?”

The voice of the hackney driver had him jumping, retrieving his hat and cane from the seat next to him and stepping out into the street. The carriage sped off with a crack of the reigns and he looked up at the brick facade of the building in front of him. Candle light seeped from around the edges of curtains drawn tight to hide the goings on inside.

God Almighty, he already felt his cock getting hard in his beeches and was thankful for the drape of his greatcoat to hide his embarrassing state. He was tempted to walk away, but another part of him, devious and whispering temptation, urged him inside. “You’ll find everything you’ve ever been curious about,” it whispered, echoing his older brother’s words that sent him on this errand in the first place.

“Don’t be a prude,” Gabriel had chastised. “Everyone does it. It’s like a right of passage. Our dear old father is the one who took me to my first whore house,” he added with a lascivious grin, lounging across the settee, popping grapes into his mouth as he spoke. “Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

And he was, which was what made it so shameful. It was true that most peers, the alphas at any rate, were encouraged to sow their wild oats before marriage, but Lord Castiel James Shurley had always been odd. He thought for himself, flouted convention, and had been, until recently, convinced he would go to his marriage bed a virgin, same as whichever omega his parents deemed suitable for him.

Ever since his first rut hit last year (a late bloomer, everyone had said, seeing as he had been all of six and twenty), he could think of little else. Not even his plants could keep his interest anymore and his fellows at the Horticultural Society were starting to worry. He spent more time locked away in his room than his greenhouse.

The front door opened suddenly, a thin omega in a red dress that was barely proper bathed in the light which spilled into the street, red curls falling from the pile atop her head to brush her shoulders. She smirked at him. “Why don’t you come in, love? We don’t bite.”

She chuckled at her own joke, and Castiel felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Well, he was caught now. It was either look a fool for loitering outside only to run away with his tail between his legs (And why did it even matter, he asked himself. He wasn’t likely to run into this woman in the street.) or stop being a coward and take what he wanted, what he had been fantasizing about for months—a warm, tight hole squeezing around his prick, an omega mewling beneath him.

It as base and common, but, oh, how he wanted it.

He walked up the steps and through the door.

The inside of Madam Ellen’s was as gauche and ostentatious as Castiel feared it would be: velvet, gold leaf, filigree, sconces shaped like male members, frescos of men and women, alphas and omegas, in flagrante on the walls for the foyer. There were also… noises. Ones he hadn’t been able to hear outside, but once past the doors they rang in his ears, moans, grunting, growls echoed by softer purrs. Things Castiel would have said were reserved for marriage beds, but were making him warm beneath his clothes, his cravat feeling too tight.

“Charlie, take the gentleman’s coat, why don’t you? I thought I taught you better manners than that.”

The woman who spoke descended the staircase with a regal air, dressed fine enough for any Ton ballroom in blue satin adorned in peacock feathers. She was older, perhaps his mother’s age, handsome, and an omega. Obviously the proprietress, by the way the redhead who let him in jumped to follow her order, which surprised him. He wouldn’t have thought an omega would run a house of ill repute such as this, but perhaps it made sense. Who else would an omega trust to keep them safe but one of their own?

He relinquished his greatcoat, along with his gloves, hat and cane, fingers fidgeting with the buttons he of his waistcoat. Madame Ellen reaches the bottom step and held out her hand with a smile that was more than a touch predatory. Still, Castiel raised her hand to his lips because he was a gentleman.

“No need to be frightened, dear boy,” she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and leading him father into the house.

“I’m not,” he replied automatically and she smiled again as they passed through a doorway into a sitting room filled with numerous couches. Artfully displayed on a number of them, omegas posed for inspection. Castiel stopped in his tracks, eyes widening, arrested by half clothed limbs.

One omega in particular, seated by the fireplace, golden skin gilded by the fire, stole his breath. He was… stunning. Tall and leanly muscled, with green eyes and light brown hair, he wore nothing but a silk dressing gown from what Castiel could discern. The material split over one of his thighs, leaving his legs bare, long and made smooth and hairless by a process he couldn’t even begin to guess at. It fell off one shoulder, to behalf of his chest visible along with a single, pert nipple. A wine glass filled with ruby colored liquid dangled negligently from his fingertips, eyes trained on the flames before him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hmm, good choice,” Madame Ellen murmured, too close to his ear, her scent overpowering, but he didn’t pull away because what if he made her angry? The last thing he wanted now that he’d seen this omega was to be tossed out on his ear. She stepped away, one hand around his arm, the other beckoning the omega. Her lips curled in a sly grin. “Dean, dear. Come. Someone has requested your company.”

Castiel had no earthly idea what the room he was led to looked like because once the door shut behind them, Dean shed the robe he wore, tossing it over a chaise lounge pushed against the wall across from the bed, which he only glanced at when Dean laid back against the bedding. Propped on his elbows, everything wasI’m display. He looked like sin incarnate, half lidded eyes and a smile curving his plush lips. The blue silk sheets and velvet bed hangings were sumptuous and the color set off the omega’s skin in a way that made Castiel think they had been chosen specifically for that purpose.

“So,” Dean said, the deep cadence of his voice shocking Castiel, as well as the fact that he was American. He found himself wondering how this man had come to be here. “How would you like me?”

“I don’t know,” he stuttered, fidgeting with one of his cufflinks.

“Don’t be shy.” His voice lowered and he sat forward as though he were sharing a secret, the lean muscles of his abdomen flexing, candle light catching on all the dips and curves of his body. Smile turning coy, he informed Castiel, “I’ve tried everything. Nothing you ask for will shock me.”

“I don’t know what to ask for because I haven’t done anything. Shocking or otherwise.” He hadn’t meant to admit that, but the words tumbled from his lips and it was too late now to take them back.

Dean sat back, stunned, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “No shit?” The omega’s green eyes ran slowly up and down his body, making Castiel blush. “Been a while since I was with a virgin. Probably since I was one myself,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. Then he stood, walked toward Castiel, his movements I’m yes with sensual grace, and began tugging on the knot of Castiel’s cravat. “Well, that just means I get to ruin you for everyone else.”

Cas believed Dean could do it, too, as he slowly, efficiently, stripped Castiel of all his layers. He seemed pleased with what he saw, licking his lips when he uncovered Castiel’s cock, pupils widening. Dean ducked his head to run his lips along Castiel’s chin.

“I should have asked before, but what’s your name?”

“Cas,” he said even though only his family ever called him that.

Dean hummed, tongue licking up his neck. “I’m going to take care of you, alpha.”

Lord above, that went straight to his cock. He had been imagining making an omega scream his name by the end of the night, foolish seeing as he had no prior experience to call upon, but he thought it was going to be the other way around.

Silk gripped between his fingers, Castiel groaned, stars filling his vision. He was on his back on the bed while Dean rode him as skillfully as a jockey at the Ascot. It was better than he had ever dreamed. The omega’s channel was hot and wet, squeezing him so tightly it bordered in pain. The scent of his sweat and the slick running down his thighs filled the room, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head when Dean clenched impossibly tighter.

Dean caressed Castiel’s chest, thumbs plucking at his nipples, then leaned down to kiss him, nipping at bottom lip. “Are you going to knot me, alpha? I can feel it, Cas. It’s so big.”

“Oh, God,” were the only words he could get past his lips. He untangled his fingers from the sheets and curled them around the omega’s hips.

His breath bathed Castiel’s ear with his next words, so softly spoken, but they were like ice water through his veins, reminding him of what this was. “It’s extra.”

“Anything,” he choked out, groaning, hips snapping up, chasing his release. He would give Dean anything, anything he wanted. He didn’t think he could live without this, without him.

Dean straightened, breath catching, and held on while Castiel thrust into him. His nails dug into Castiel’s skin. He thought Dean might have drawn blood but he didn’t care enough to look or to tell Dean to stop.

He was transfixed by the sight of Dean succumbing to pleasure. Eyes closed, head tipped back, he stroked himself with one hand, panting through parted lips. He was perfection.

Castiel’s knot swelled even more, making it harder to push inside. The noises their bodies made was a symphony Cas had never heard before: skin against skin, the squelch of slick being forced out of the omega’s channel. Frustrated when his knot pulled free of Dean’s sheath, the omega’s body resisting its entrance, he dug his fingers into Dean’s hips and tugged him down when he drove up. Dean shouted, spend painting Castiel’s chest, milking his knot.

Dean collapsed against his chest, hips rolling to pull the rest of his release from him, not that he thought he would stop anytime soon regardless.

“How was that?”

Dean’s question had Castiel barking a laugh. He ran his hands up and down the omega’s back, over the swell of his generous backside. “I want you to be my courtesan.”

Dean stilled. Slowly, his head lifted from Castiel’s shoulder. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You can’t be serious. We’ve only just met.”

“I’ve always known what I wanted,” he told Dean, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. He confessed, “Truthfully, I don’t think I could stand the thought of anyone else touching you.”

“I did say I would ruin you for anyone else.” Dean spoke the words softly, voice filled with melancholy.

Castiel traced Dean’s cheek. “I will have to marry. One day. And were it a more perfect world…” He trailed off, not willing to say the words aloud. They would only serve to make them both sad. “I have more money than I could spend in two lifetimes. Let me spend it on you. You would have the freedom to do what you wanted when we aren’t together, run your own household, revive a monthly stipend.”

Dean studied him, fingers tracing idle patterns in the skin of his chest. “What happens when you decide you don’t want me anymore?”

The question was pragmatic for someone in Dean’s position, but it broke Cas’s heart. Conscious of his knot which had yet to abate, he sat up carefully so as not to jostle Dean too much and hurt him, and wrapped the omega in his arms. He couldn’t see that happening, but all he said was, “Everything will be yours to keep. I put the house in your name. You’ll have your own accounts.”

Dean looked away, biting his lip as he contemplated Castiel’s offer. “You are the best lay I’ve had in years,” he mused and tossed Castiel a cheeky smirk.

The alpha growled, rolling them over, trapping Dean beneath him. Dean’s laugh morphed into a moan when Castiel started circling his hips. “Is that a yes?”

Dean didn’t answer with words. He pulled Cas into a kiss, wrapping around him like he would never let him go.

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #fanfiction #destiel #historical #prostitute!Dean #Lord!Castiel #omegaverse #omega!dean #alpha!castiel

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chocoluckchipz · 6 years ago

Text

Dance with Me, Chaton

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

1. Miraculouses

Adrien pressed his lips into a thin line, his body feeling heavy. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? He pushed the sinking sensation in his chest aside and pressed on. “So, as you can see, it will benefit the company if I explore other career options instead of taking on a CEO role here straight out of school. Having experienced something other than Gabriel for a few years will only make me more capable of helping you here.”

“Out of the question,” Gabriel cut. “You need to know Gabriel inside out to take over, and that’s not attainable by exploring ‘other options’, as you say.”

Adrien pressed on, despite the dread of hopelessness settling in his stomach. “I’ve worked here my whole life and already know the company well. Exploring might give me new ideas and show new approaches to keep us at the top.”

“You’ve been largely out of the work for the university for years, Adrien. A lot has changed and Gabriel’s at the top. We don’t need new ideas and approaches.”

“I beg to differ.” He really was risking his life here. Adrien still persevered. He’s gone this far. He might go all the way. “For now. But you’ve been struggling to maintain that for a few years now, haven’t you? We need new ideas—”

“I am implementing new ideas,” Gabriel snapped. “This summer’s collection—”

“Father, please,” Adrien interrupted. Yup. He’d definitely gone crazy, but someone had to say something. Maybe he’d be even lucky enough to get kicked out of the company for offending his father? “Mme Bourgeois was mocking you when she challenged you to implement sequins, bright feathers, ribbons and bows into your men’s formal wear. Neon coloured sneakers with black formal suits? Ripped formal pants? Do you really not understand what’s going on here?”

Adrien could practically see his father’s eyes filled with anger as he replied. “Ripped pants have been trending for a few years already. It's time formal wear got on it.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. I absolutely do not.”

He was mad. Adrien could feel it. Good. Maybe daring to voice his objections would finally make Gabriel pay attention to his son? He didn’t ask for much. He’d been more than a perfect son his whole life, blindly obeying his father’s every whim. The least Gabriel could do now was to grant him the sole wish Adrien refused to back away on: a few years of freedom to do whatever he wanted. His own schedule, his own choice of work, his own life. Was that too much to ask for? If anything, Adrien had earned it. So, he dared to speak again.

“Father, ‘formal’ and ‘ripped’ should not be in the same sentence unless it’s an accident. In all honesty, if you want my opinion, Audrey knew you would never refuse her very public dare, and she used it against you.”

“So, what? It’s a good push for creativity and stepping out of one’s comfort zone.”

“Only in this case, it’s not. She wanted to sink Gabriel for years, and this might just do it.”

“Nonsense.”

“Father, there is a difference between new ideas that work and those that will make you the laughingstock of the entire fashion industry.”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. He hummed. “Now, where did I hear those words before, Adrien? Or should I say Ladybug?”

Adrien frowned. “Lady who?”

“Don’t play a fool with me.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, his voice chilling with every word. “I see, you’ve finally learned to express your opinion quite well. Though, in an incredibly rude fashion, and we will discuss it later. Why did you email me then if you can say face to face?”

Adrien’s frown deepened. “Father, I have no idea—”

Gabriel scoffed. “Was it for practice? Then you should know that if you wanted to remain anonymous, you should use different expressions every time you speak on the matter.”

“Seriously. You are losing me here. What email? Why do I need to email you if I can make an appointment to come here and talk to you?”

“That’s what I’m wondering as well,” Gabriel said, reaching out for his computer mouse. He made a few clicks and added. “Just to refresh your memory.”

Adrien’s phone chimed. He opened his Inbox to find a forwarded message from his father. “From Ladybug?”

“Clever,” Gabriel noted. “I assumed it was a woman at first. Good strategy.”

“I didn’t send this,” Adrien said scanning the text. “I mean I agree with whoever said this—half of your outfits needs to be reworked—but I have nothing to do with this. I’m not Ladybug.”

Gabriel watched him for a split moment before turning away. “So, you’re saying someone in my company, apart from you, thinks my upcoming collection isn’t up to standard?”

“Apparently.” Adrien chuckled. Unexpected turn but he loved it. “Those pieces you’ve created to appease Mme Bourgeois specifically. Like this Ladybug says, ‘Your company is iconic. Your style is legendary. You don’t need to change it, and especially not because of such a ridiculous whim of such a fashion disaster as Audrey Bourgeois.’ I mean she’s right, this Ladybug.”

Adrien smiled to himself. Whoever she was, he’d like to meet her. Or him. Standing up to his father was something he hadn’t had the guts to do for twenty-three years. And even now when he finally tried, he wasn’t sure it was working.

“Weren’t you just now insisting we needed new ideas and strategies?” Gabriel said, relaxing back into his chair. “I say this is it. They might be unconventional for now, but the public takes everything I give them. They’ll eat this too and thank me for it.”

Adrien shook his head, this Ladybug person giving him confidence. If she could do it, so could he. “This is a gamble you know you will lose.”

“There are risks.” Gabriel shrugged. “But reports have been showing a heightened interest in sequins for years and—”

“In girl’s clothing, Father. Little girls. This Ladybug explained it really well. Why can’t you listen?”

Gabriel scowled. “I’m not taking the advice of a coward who couldn’t even come to me personally.”

“So, you can fire them?” Adrien countered. “Father, really? You aren’t that generous, and your employees aren’t that stupid.”

“I can take critique.”

“I’ve been giving you one, and you don’t seem to be taking it. This Ladybug gave you one and you ignore it. Should we combine our forces for you to hear us?”

Gabriel stilled, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips a moment later. “Maybe you should. I’m sure the two of you could convince me of anything, including letting you go to explore other options as you say.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow, his heart speeding up. Did he just hear his father…?

“Say that again?”

“Find this Ladybug, bring her to me, so I can have a proper conversation with her about the content of her email. In return, you’ll get your freedom.”

The pit of his stomach turned. Adrien dared to ask for freedom, but, in all truth, he did not expect his father to even listen to him. However…

“You want me to find a person for you to fire?”

“Not at all,” Gabriel replied. “Let’s just say I’m not fully convinced by their arguments in their email. I want to hear what else they can tell me.”

Adrien paused, his gaze falling to the floor. So close to what he wanted for most of his life… Yet…

“We’re both adults here, Adrien,” Gabriel said. “We both want something. Why not give it to each other? You’re old enough to work with me, rather than for me, aren’t you?”

Adrien snapped his eyes to Gabriel. He wanted out of here so badly, and here it was. His ticket to freedom. Find this person his Father wanted to talk to and he was free. Still, something at the back of his mind nagged. “You promise you won’t fire them and let me go?”

Gabriel nodded. “Absolutely. How can I fire anyone for expressing their opinion in order to better my company? Who do you take me for?”

Adrien hesitated for just one more moment before pushing that nagging thought away. He deserved this. For absentminded serving for his father for his whole life at his own expense, Adrien deserved a few years to himself. Father promised he won’t fire this person, and judging by their email, Ladybug would be able to easily stand up to Gabriel. Adrien might even be doing them a favour. Really. If they are successful in convincing his father to accept their suggestions, he might even promote them for being a loyal employee.

Standing up, Adrien stretched his arm to his father. “Deal. I’ll find you this Ladybug, and you let me go.”

Gabriel shook his hand with a smile on his lips. “You have until a week before the next show.”

“A month?”

“Of course. If they convince me, and I were to change anything in my collection, I’d need enough time to do that. But you can always back out if you can’t do it in a month.”

Adrien nervously grinned. “I can do it in a month. I was just surprised you are giving me so much time. That’s all.”

Gabriel let Adrien’s hand go. “If you say so. Now if you excuse me, I’ve got some work to do.”

“Same here. Got a Ladybug to catch. Good day, father.”

***

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Hello stranger

Hello, my brave and genius Ladybug. I’m sure you’re surprised to receive this email, but let me assure you: I’ve come in peace.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Chat Noir. Seeing as you’re Ladybug, a good luck charm, and how there is a cute picture of a misfortunate Black Cat on a wall at a cafe I’m at right now, I’d say that’s a fitting name, wouldn’t you say so?

A little about me. I work in proximity of Gabriel Agreste, and the other day I accidentally came upon your email on his table. The boss printed it for who knows what reason and left it between his papers. Upon reading it, I couldn’t not tell you how greatly I admire you for expressing what so many of us in this company think but scared to voice. Those new implementations M Agreste is enforcing are ridiculous and, as you’ve written, will make him a laughingstock of the fashion world. Nicely said, by the way.

Well, I suppose that’s all I wanted to say. Accept my deepest respect and love, my dear Ladybug, and I hope you continue to be as awesome as you’re now.

Sincerely yours,

Chat Noir

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

#ladynoir july #ladynoirjuly2019 #night club AU #aged up characters #dancing #human plagg #human tikki #fluff #romance #LadyNoir #non-magical AU #dwmc #multi

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lycorogue · 6 years ago

Text

So I FINALLY watched Oblivio... and I have thoughts....

First of all.... just... EEEEEEEEEEEE! I mean, I know that the whole episode was basically voided out by the end because of the Miraculous Ladybugs, but still.... EEEEEEEE

Also... this ended up getting pretty long, and I don’t like flooding people’s dashes with long posts if I can help it. The TL;DR version is that I love the caliber of writing used in this episode, and I hope the writers keep up with this standard. Yes, people may be salty because it’s a tease, and the events basically null out at the end, and the reason for Oblivio to be akumatized is kind of lame, especially considering it’s DJWifi, but all-in-all, this was by far one of my favorite episodes of the series.

For all of my thoughts and reasons why I loved this episode, check below the break.

Marinette is so badass in this episode, and I love how much it showcases her strategic mind. Adrien was determined to kill me before the episode was through. Plagg is a bit of a self-centered coward, but he’s also further proving why he’s my favorite. Tikki has some of the most agency showcased all series. DJWifi is terrifyingly adorable. The comradery of the class is so heart-warming. Finally, amnesia episodes are fun “what if” scenarios if done well, and I think this one was.

“Looks like you and I were at the same costume party.” “We must shop at the same jewelry store!” Adrien, sweety, honey, darling, you are just too precious! XD

Marinette again calling Tikki a “bug mouse” and Adrien again calling Plagg a “genie” was beautiful! <3 I love the call-back! I also love how Marinette again cowered with a very “WTF” mindset, while Adrien once more cupped Plagg in his hands; perfectly calm and excited to see the kwamis. <3 <3 <3

So, I get it that the “phone -> turtle” drawing was supposed to mean “Call Fu”, but did anyone else get that it was also a nod to who Oblivio was? Alya being the phone and Nino also being the turtle.

I LOOOOVE the unity of DJWifi, even if it was a joint-akuma. It just shows how in sync they are. Plus, even their banter was equally true regardless of who said it, such as “You remember your BFF, Oblivio, don’t you?” I mean, I know they don’t realize how true that statement is, because they don’t know who LB and CN are, but... still... perfect.

“I’m not convinced this monster is really our best friend.” XD Adrien... Adrien stop. Please stop. Holy crap, stop! XDDDD

The fact that Adrien, without any memories, is still an instinctive protector... I <3 this kid so much!

Adrien bowing when he “meets” Marinette, and her return curtsy was just too cute. I love these dorks! And I love how we get to see how they would actually be around each other if they just got out of their own way. I mean, that blush when their hands touch as they both try to lock the bathroom stall? Precious. The way Adrien was BEAMING as he complimented Marinette as being “someone who always has the right idea at the right time.” Adorable. How Adrien moved to help Marinette out of the air duct just as she leaps out, and she topples him, and they both jump back in mild embarrassment after snuggling on the floor for a second or two? Magical!

Plagg justifying everything he does around the Camembert! XD He likes to make sure he’s my favorite character, doesn’t he?

Marinette, sweety, how is it NOW is when you come up with the idea of breathing on Adrien’s phone to figure out how to unlock it? Where was that ingenuity back during Copycat? XDDD

Can we talk about the fact that Adrien has his bodyguard listed in his phone as simply “G.” ???? XDDDD Holy crap, you guys! Also... going back to the episode Copycat, we know Adrien had Gabriel listed as “Father” (technically, it was “Pere”)... sooooo, did Adrien downgrade his father? Did he become so disconnected that he changed the listing to “Gabriel Agreste”? Also.... no one else has their last name listed, so why is he using his FATHER’S last name in the listing? To be fair, Marinette doesn’t have her parents listed as “Mom” and “Dad/Papa” either. So maybe they learned to put their parents’ names into their phone in case someone else has to call them during an emergency? I know that’s why my own mother is listed by her name with ICE after it (In Case of Emergency).

While it was strongly implied with episodes like Anansi, I love that this episode confirmed that Adrien and Marinette did indeed exchange phone numbers since Copycat. <3

The call-back to the ML anime PV being a canonical feature-length film about the duo was fantastic, and the fact that Marinette recognized the costumes and was able to piece together instantly that it’s her and Adrien was brilliant!

The fact that Marinette having a glamour shot of Adrien as her phone backdrop, and Adrien having dozens of pictures of Ladybug in his phone gallery had them believe they’re dating is hilarious! Like, seriously, kiddos! Also.... why didn’t they find it weird that Adrien ONLY had pictures of Ladybug and NOT Marinette? A bit odd if they’re dating, no? (Alternatively, you could argue the same about Marinette not having CN photos, but you could write that off as her not wanting to accidentally reveal that her boyfriend is a superhero...)

“Then we must have told each other everything. I couldn’t hide my identity from the girl I love.” Adrien, you are going to kill me. You are attempting to murder me. Why? WHYYYYYYYY!?!??!?! Also, it’s adorable that you already figured out again that you love her. I mean... <3 <3 <3 Also also.... coming on a BIT strong there, Romeo! You JUST figured out “you’re dating” and you drop the L-word on poor Marinette? If she could remember that moment she would also die.

Just.... just Adrien’s beaming pride that he gets to be around Marinette this whole episode, and all of his soft looks. The kid may lay it on a bit thick, but holy crow, if she didn’t realize her love for him like Adrien did for her, HOW COULD SHE NOT FALL FOR HIM AGAIN DURING THIS EPISODE!? Like, geeeeeeez!

I love how Marinette had her normal “Ladybug Vision” shots to figure out the phone decoy, but the items just didn’t light up in the traditional red and black spots since she was out of costume. Instead, they were gray with pink dots, to match her coat! Beautiful! Brilliant! This further confirms that this is just Marinette being brilliant instead of a side-effect of the super powers. (Yes, she used the “LB Vision” when her powers were nullified in Sandboy, but still... further and definitive proof)

Also... the jackass picture drawn on the post-it note! Savage!

GUYS! ADRIEN HAD “LB Vision” TOO! He had “Adrien Vision”! AND IT WAS AMAZING!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Okay... Adrien’s cardboard box Chat Noir costume!? How friggen precious was that!? And the fact that he EVEN MADE A FRIGGEN TAIL AND BELL!? How extra can this boy be!? If/when I have a child, I hope to god they’re just like Adrien! <3 You precious, over-the-top, nerd of a child!

Speaking of his cardboard costume.... HOW QUICKLY DID HE THROW THAT COSTUME TOGETHER!? LIKE, WHAT!?!?!?! Granted, no one actually adheres to proper 5-minute countdown timing in this show, considering LB zipped away from the building nearly SEVEN minutes after accidentally triggering her Lucky Charm, and she HAD to have taken at least a minute to run up to the roof in the first place, but still.... HOW THE HELL DID HE COVER HIMSELF IN TAPE, CUT OUT CAT EARS, DRAW ON THE FRIGGEN POCKETS AND CENTER ZIPPER TO DECORATE THE DAMN THING, MAKE A FRIGGEN TAIL AND PAPER-BALL BELL, PUT THE COSTUME ON, AND MAKE IT TO THE ROOF IN TIME TO SAVE LB? That was like... 15 seconds of screen time!

Backtracking to the “Marinette Vision” solution to avoid Oblivio until they figured out how to transform again, how brilliant was Marinette to give Tikki the mug? First of all, she could create that coffee trail, secondly, since Tikki was holding something she’d have to remain tangible while opening the door to the floor below. This, in particular, seemed quite a brilliant move, since Tikki accidentally phased through the elevator doors before. It is quite possible that either (a) Tikki doesn’t remember how to remain solid when pushing against something, (b) Marinette doesn’t realize Tikki can control it, or (c) a happy combination of both. Regardless of WHY Marinette did it, the fact that she trusted that Tikki holding an object would HAVE to keep her tangible, and therefore could press the lever to open the door, was so clever! A+

“Thanks, but I don’t feel like a superhero at all.” “You’ve already proven that you are one, with or without costume.” Adrien, you precious, darling child! <3

THERE ARE FRIGGEN EMERGENCY USERS GUIDES!? LIKE, WHAT!? Okay, that was a bit Deus ex Machina, but it works...

Marinette’s freak-out over the accidental activation of her Lucky Charm was fantastic!

MARINETTE, YOU IDIOT, YOU MISSED HIS LIPS AGAIN! WHAT IS IT WITH YOU KISSING HIS LEFT CHEEK INSTEAD!?!?!?! (Also, how great would it have been if that somehow jogged his memory by reminding him of Mari kissing him at the end of Mayura?)

I LOVE THAT SHE’S HAVING FUN BEING A SUPERHERO THIS TIME! She was so timid and unsure of herself in Origins, it’s fantastic to see this confident girl (thanks in part to Adrien) trying out her powers for “the first time” and having fun with them!

Plagg being utterly confused as to what’s happening to him as Adrien calls out “Plagg, Claws Out!” is amazing and beautiful and makes me love Plagg even more! Poor dear! <3

Adrien still calling Marinette “M’lady” simply because he was trying to cover up accidentally calling her by her actual name. So great!

“Okay, I’ve got no idea what the Hakuna Matata is, but I trust you.” Adrien! Stooooooop! I’m dying!!!!!!

Guys! Guys! Guys! People can be merged together to create an akumatized villain!!!! I know I touched upon this above when I mentioned how in sync DJWifi were, but this is amazing! I wouldn’t have thought as much, especially since Alya’s twin sisters, arguing over ONE item, were EACH turned into a Sapotis, and they couldn’t have been more unified. Alya’s twin sisters basically have Hive Mind. So the fact that they were EACH a copy of the akumatized supervillain sharing the same akumatized object, and yet DJWifi MERGED.... like... I could write a whole post just talking about THAT!

THE KISSSSSSSSS! THE FRIGGEN LADYNOIR KISS! AND THERE WAS NO “BREAKING A SPELL” ELEMENT, AND IT WAS BEAUTIFUL. AND THEIR HANDS SLOWLY TIGHTENING AS THEY KISSED; NOT WANTING TO LET GO OF THE OTHER. AND THE KISS WAS LIKE 15 SECONDS LONG! IT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT AND WONDERFUL AND THE FACT THAT ALYA IMMORTALIZED IT MADE THIS WHOLE EPISODE WORTH WHILE, AND EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Alya: “Uh, Ladybug? Cat Noir?” CN (unblinking that DJWifi are alone with them on the roof): “Guys! You haven’t seen a supervillain named Oblivio, have you?” Nino: “You’ve defeated it already, dude.” Alya: “Actually, he was... us.” LB & CN (in unison and completely accepting of that fact): “Oh. Okay. Pound it? Pound it!” These dorks!

THE LOOK ON LADYNOIR’S FACES WHEN THEY SAW ALYA’S PICTURE!!!!!! <3 <3 <3

Alya: “Remember when we visited Montparnasse Tower?” Oh.... you mean the tower YOU GUYS ARE STILL VISITING!? Nooooo.... >_> They don’t remember it at all. Thanks, Oblivio.... -_-

Okay, can we talk about the reason DJWifi became Oblivio? Because... WHAT!? First of all, they are on a field trip and decided to sneak off to a walk-in closet to.... play a game on one of their tablets? Seriously? And they were caught just before they kissed.... I mean, I know it’s a children’s show, and we saw a flashback still of them playing the game, but are we SUUUUUURE they weren’t about to play “Seven Minutes in Heaven” in there????? Secondly, Nino says “You guys make fun of us for playing that game, saying it wasn’t our age and all.” But then a bunch of kids in their class confess to either playing it or wanting to start playing it. Including Mylene, who tells them “everyone loves that game.” Sooooooo.... two things here: (1) were they REALLY being made fun of for playing that game like Nino claimed, and (2) why was Gentle Giant Ivan part of the flashback shot of classmates laughing at the discovered couple? He doesn’t seem to be the one to tease and bully, plus his girlfriend likes the game. Since it’s established as a great game for couples because you have to find “the right partner” (and Rose backs this idea up by saying she plays with Juleka), it’s a decent guess that Ivan plays with Mylene. So.... what is going on with Nino’s recollection of what happened???? Third, it doesn’t seem like them to sneak off from the class simply to play a game... again, I’m thinking more was going on there (get on that, other fanfic writers). Finally, they got jointly akumatized because they were embarrassed that their classmates found out they play a “kid’s game”? Really? REALLY!? Nino and Alya were each akumatized for much more devastating reasons originally. Do they really care THAT MUCH!? I call foul on this akumatization, as much as I love the rest of the episode.

Adrien finally showcases more of his EQUAL FOOTING with Marinette (ya know, as a partner; not a sidekick), by leading her to the bathroom in the first place, coming up with them trying to signal for help from an empty office suite, coming up with the plan of creating the diversion so they could sneak out using the emergency stairs, helping LB figure out that her Lucky Charms are just HINTS at how to stop the akuma, and making sure his identity is hidden via his cardboard box costume so Ladybug wasn’t fighting alone. Basically, if he stopped using his time to either try to woo ML or protect her like a shield, he could prove himself as more than just a “sidekick-like” superhero. He could truly be more of a partner. He has potential he hasn’t tapped into, or potential Marinette hasn’t allowed him to utilize due to CN “screwing around” a lot of the time. Heck, even in the footage of them getting hit, he clearly joked about them being a couple again.

Marinette: “I can’t believe it! I. Actually. Kissed. Cat. Noir! How could this have happened?” Tikki: “Who knows? Maybe you still have some things to learn about him.” Tikki, you sly bitch! XD You know full well that CN and Adrien are the same guy! I love you, even when you infuriate me. XDDDD

Adrien moping for all of 3seconds about LB “finally falling in love” with him, only for him to forget the experience, and her forgetting her feelings. Plagg’s mocking about how unlucky he is (because I love snarky Plagg). And finally, Adrien, the silver-lining sunshine boy that he is, noting that he now has hope. If she could fall for him once, she could possibly do so again. These kids are going to kill me.

I love this episode sooooooooo much! We got to see so much potential in this episode. We got hints of so many new factors to this universe. And there is a sort of souvenir of the episode, so it isn’t ENTIRELY for nothing. (I can’t wait for some sort of call-back to that kiss!) For me, a fanfic writer, this episode is GREAT for fodder. I can use it as a reference point of how these two morons would act if they just got over their nerves and acted as a true couple. <3

9/10!

#ML #Miraculous Ladybug #ML season 3 #Oblivio #My thoughts #LycoRogue thoughts #ML spoilers #Miraculous Ladybug spoilers #ML season 3 spoilers #Oblivio spoilers #LycoRogue original

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cassandraclare · 7 years ago

Text

Anna, Ariadne, sexuality and genderfludity in the Belle Epoque

SPOILERS (and a mass of text, much under a cut)

jonginflicted said: cassie i loved every exquisite thing so much oh god, i could almost see myself in ariadne, like a sort of refusal to fully be herself (we were born in the same place too!) and i'm wondering, does ariadne really love anna or is this just a time-pass or an experiment for her. she does say that she likes anna a lot, but her willingness to marry charles seems a little off to me (or am i seeing things) as always, thank you so much for writing for us!

-Thank you!

Ariadne is under crushing social pressure to marry a man. She does love Anna

— she’s fallen in love with her the same way Anna has with her, with that sort of sweeping at-first-sight romantic overwhelmingness that sometimes happens, especially when it’s your first time. I really tried to avoid any suggestion this was an “experiment” or anything like that for Ariadne. She’s a lesbian and she knows she’s a lesbian. She just also believes it’s impossible for her to live an authentic life as a lesbian woman in 1901 without being cruelly punished. I don’t think you’re seeing things so much as it’s hard to understand what Ariadne is facing in 1901 (and would face in some places now):

From Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century by Graham Robb: 19th-century homosexuals lived under a cloud...Most of them suffered, not from the cruel machinery of justice, but from the creeping sense of shame, the fear of losing friends, family and reputation, the painful incompatibility of religious belief and sexual desire, the social and mental isolation, and the strain of concealment.

That’s a horrific thing to face. (Not that we live in an LGBT+ utopia now and they lived in an LGBT+ dystopia then: it’s a lot more complicated than that.) Ariadne’s parents, unlike Anna’s, are extremely conservative, and this union with Charles is the thing they want. So it wouldn’t matter much to Ariadne whether it was Charles or some other guy – it’s not going to be the thing she wants except that she doesn’t want to be isolated, to be abandoned, to be rejected by her parents and family, which are totally normal things to be terrified of.

Everyone has layered identities. Ariadne has identities as a woman of color, as a lesbian, as an adopted child, as the daughter of conservative government officials, as a woman who wants children, and in many ways those identities are in conflict for her in ways Anna’s identities are less so. Ariadne isn’t a coward, or a cruel person. She is making the best choices she can within a set of limitations that are oppressive, and that she did not invent or ask for.

ti-bae-rius said: Hello Cassie! Firstly, wow okay turns out I have a huge fiction crush on Anna Lightwood. Hot damn. Secondly - and slightly less flippant/lovestruck - is Anna happy with female pronouns? Is that what Anna identifies with or was it more due to conformity of the time? Basically, is Anna’s gender expression limited by temporal factors? Such a badass character who is seriously fuelling my waistcoat obsession right now. Love the new GOTSM and all the best! x

I'm so happy you enjoyed the new GOTSM and that you like (have a huge crush on) Anna! I would say that Anna is happy with female pronouns, yes, as she's happy with the gift of the necklace that her mother gave her, something she can be comfortable with as she's not with dresses. That said, temporal factors are certainly a part of that! Today Anna would consider and call herself genderfluid, but the term didn't exist at the time, and of course many genderfluid people today refer to themselves by “he” or “she” pronouns, as well as many others, according to what feels most comfortable to them. Anna is a product of her time: had she been born in a different time many things might have been different — but that is the case for every single one of the TID and TLH characters, and for all of us alive today, who express ourselves in ways which would have been extremely unconventional in the past and will likely be considered backward and oppressive in the future. :)

In 1902 (a year after the events of EET) people were academically discussing the idea of a third or “intermediate” sex, but it was a very new thing — not something Shadowhunters would know about, or the average mundane. It was also referred to as “sexual inversion” which was seen as an academic term at the time. The idea of LGBTQ+ sexuality was a taboo topic--sexuality at all was a taboo topic, with people getting arrested for indecency for publishing pamphlets about contraception--and the idea of LGBTQ+ identity was scarcely understood at all.

Anna herself, and those who love and accept her, would find it very hard to conceptualize or articulate gender fluidity. Feelings have always existed long before there were words for them, and many words once used are not the words we use now. I wanted to be accurate and faithful to the time period, but I also wanted to be as sensitive as possible to the modern day, real life readers, and not hurt them by using terms which would have been acceptable then but are certainly not acceptable now. (A whole code for speaking about homosexuality existed at the time, ranging from the gentle “Is he musical?” or “Does she like Achilles?” to words I would just never use whether they’re historically accurate or not.) Anna, as we see, has strong feelings about not only romance with women but friendship and alliance with women, and female pronouns to her feel like another way of expressing that alliance, even while she wants to be true to herself and express her complex and beautiful identity as fully as she can.

ariadnebridgestock said: hello cassie!! I was incredibly touched by how understanding and supportive Cecily and Gabriel were about Anna so I was wondering, will we be seeing other support that Anna receives from the rest of her family, like her brother Christopher, her aunts and uncles and her cousins and family friends like the Fairchilds etc? thank you for taking your time to answer questions!

archerondale said: Hi, Cassie! I was just wondering- what does the Clave think about Anna wearing man's clothes and preferring women?

EET is set two years before TLH, so in 1903 Anna's already openly living a fabulous lifestyle in her own abode in Percy Street, and her family and friends are all fully aware and supportive of her lifestyle. We will see her family support her, though not every single one of their specific reactions to her starting to dress as she prefers, as that's well in the past. Everyone responds with love, in their characteristic ways, so we see Matthew, a loving and fashionable friend, giving her his clothing: Christopher, her sweet and science-minded brother, offering to perform a saving act of science (Christopher would blow up the Tower of London to make Anna feel better, any day of the week). Everyone offers support in their own way. Lucie asks to hear about Anna's scandalous love life so she can write about romance in her novels. James reads up on people like Julie d'Aubigny, who dressed as a man, fought duels, and liberated her lady beloved from a nunnery.

However, the Clave as a whole, and even the Enclave in London, is vaguely horrified by what Anna's up to, but Anna's helped out by the attitude that what Anna's doing can barely be true--there is a myth that Queen Victoria refused to believe in women feeling passion for other women, which reflects the prevailing attitudes of the time (which again, aren't the same as Shadowhunter attitudes, but Shadowhunter attitudes are influenced by the world) that love between women didn't happen, or if it did, didn't count (Unlike sex between men, lesbianism was not illegal in 1903).

That said, in 1902 (after EET, before TLH) society became interested in “sexology”--examining the different kinds of sexual attractions and activities that existed, and the terms sapphic and lesbian came into more common use. Lesbian activity wasn't criminalized in the same way as gay activity (though the denial of women's sexuality is a problem in itself): Oscar Wilde's fate would not happen to a woman, though as we see with Ariadne there was still horrible pressure to conform. During this same period, Vita Sackville-West (later, Virginia Woolf's lover) and Violet Keppel, the daughter of King Edward's mistress, were involved in a schoolgirl romance, but Violet's mother urged concealment and both were to go on to marry men. You can read their love letters here:

Oh, Mitya, come away, let’s fly, Mitya darling — let’s go away and forget the world and all its squalor — let’s forget such things as trains, and trams, and servants, and streets, and shops, and money, and cares and responsibilities. Oh god! how I hate it all — you and I, Mitya, were born 2000 years too late, or 2000 years too soon.

Anna insisting on living openly, dressing the way she wants and publicly loving who she wants, has created something of a sensation in the Enclave society. Sona's worried about Cordelia consorting with the infamous Anna: Mrs Bridgestock is appalled by the idea of Anna, now living so scandalously, approaching Ariadne. Many mothers are whisking aside their children and many proper Shadowhunters are shunning Anna. London society says Anna should be got under control, or that they should stop her from fighting because it's given her ideas: all manner of microaggressions are visited upon Anna, but Anna prefers to steadfastly ignore them (not that they don’t bother her or add up over time — this is just her particular coping strategy). Sometimes she trots off to Paris if they annoy her. But the fact she's learned to just avoid or not think about unpleasantness may become a problem for her, later, since eventually unpleasantness that she can't avoid does come and she has to face it.

Still, the constant love and support from her influential family and friends is very helpful, not just emotionally but socially: it matters that Charlotte's the Consul, that her Uncle Gideon is influential in the Clave, that her beloved Uncle Will is Head of the London Institute and loves and looks out for her. With them standing by her, the Clave has been able to mostly overlook Anna--maybe she's just going through a wild phase! Even the Consul's son Matthew is running wild, what will become of the children! They say nasty things sometimes, and Anna isn't invited to the most proper parties, and Anna DEFINITELY wouldn't be able to wield political power within the Clave or marry a really respectable Shadowhunter boy (luckily...Anna isn't at all in the market for a husband), but Anna's extremely popular with the younger set and well-supported by the older set. Which is all to say: as it has been for people like Anna in many generations and many places, one can create a society within a society where you feel comfortable. She is lucky that her own family home and the homes of her friends are places she can feel comfortable (the same is not true for Ariadne, for instance) but outside of those safe spaces, there are places where she would (and is) stared at, commented on, and subject to prejudice.

* One of the fascinating things about LGBT+ history is the way there have always been subcultural spaces where the non-straight and non-cis were able to carve out networks of neighborhoods, bars, clubs, salons and spaces where they felt safe and were able to be open. I don’t just keep mentioning Paris randomly: neighborhoods in Paris were a lesbian and gay haven during the Belle Epoque — one of those subcultural places I was talking about, where Anna and other non-binary and LGBT+ people could feel comfortable. Fin de siecle society in Paris included bars, restaurants and cafes frequented and owned by lesbians, such as Le Hanneton and le Rat Mort, Private salons, like the one hosted by the American expatriate Nathalie Barney, drew lesbian and bisexual artists and writers of the era, including Romaine Brooks, Renee Vivien, Colette, Djuna Barnes, Gertrude Stein, and Radclyffe Hall. One of Barnes's lovers, the courtesan Liane de Pougy, published a best-selling novel based on their romance called l’Idylle Saphique (1901). Descriptions of lesbian salons, cafes and restaurants were included in tourist guides and journalism of the era, as well as mention of houses of prostitution that were uniquely for lesbians. Toulouse Lautrec created paintings of many of the lesbians he met, some of whom frequented or worked at the famed Moulin Rouge. — Wikipedia

Sounds like a great place and we’ll definitely be visiting :)

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #eet #gotsm #tsc #th

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sosthemortalcoil · 6 years ago

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Gabriel: You're cute, kid, but I'm definitely too old for you. You should find someone your age, someone who better understands what it means to be young. Why follow me around when you could be living your life instead? You don't have enough time to be wasting any of it on me.

“First of all, it is not for you to tell me what is or isn’t wasting my time. I’m not some child for you to instruct. ‘What it means to be young.’ Don’t toss that phrase around. Age has nothing to do with it. I am living my life. I am an alpha, I am getting my degree, and I work with the Council of weres to help plan summits and enforce a level of proper oversight on packs so my situation never happens again. Like I said. I’m not wasting my time. If you don’t like me, that’s fine. But don’t give me weak excuses in an attempt to make it seem like you’re being noble about turning me down. It’s a coward’s excuse and respects none of my own agency. For an ancient being, you are the one woefully immature when it comes to understanding others.”

#Ask Leo #Leo #in-character response

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royalnugget42 · 6 years ago

Text

Because of You

This is short Sabriel thing set after s13.

Hurt/comfort so angst will abound, you’ve been warned.

@lovemesomecas94

It’s like 1:00 am and I’m sick as a dog so sorry if it’s not great I just needed to clear some creative juices.

—————————————————————

Gabriel tried to move. He felt slow, groggy, like he’d just woken from a hundred year nap. For a moment he didn’t open his eyes, choosing instead to savor the rest he had left. It didn’t last long. He quickly took notice of the complete absence of sensory input, the way the air didn’t smell, and the way the surface he lay on was neither hot nor cold. There was no sound, not even the steady hum of human souls he’d grown accustomed to.

He pulled in breath sharply, his eyes flying open and staring out into nothing at all. Memories flashed through his head. The other dimension. Michael’s unexpected arrival. A sharp pain under his ribs and a burning all through his chest, right up into his eyes. Sam.

He had died. Michael killed him. And now he was...wherever angels go when they run out of time. Unsteadily he rose to his feet marveling at the sheer blankness of everything around him. It was just so empty.

“Oh, not again.”

Surprised, Gabriel whirled to meet the eyes of his younger brother. He looked so strange in this place, trench coat immaculate, blue eyes practically glowing, yet he had a deep grimace set into face, like he was nursing a bad headache.

“Castiel?” he wondered, even as he knew it couldn’t be him. He was safe on earth, probably still pining after Dean Winchester.

“Not quite,” the stranger answered, high pitched and drawling. “I live here. In fact I’m usually the only one living here, but lately, it seems I just can’t get proper sleep anymore.”

Gabriel braced against the strange ground, and lifted himself to his feet. He briefly thought about fighting, then dismissed the thought. Whatever this thing was, it was likely far more powerful than him in this place. And, if he was being truly honest, he didn’t want to leave. Whatever this place was, there was likely some penance that had finally come due, and he knew he deserved every second of it.

“Well?” the stranger asked impatiently. “Aren’t you going to whine about how you need to get back, how you need to save your friends?”

“No. They don’t need me,” he answered hollowly. He glanced around, searching for something material, anything his eyes could cling to. “I assume this is my hell.”

The stranger snorted, then cackled, pure and colder than Lucifer’s ice. Gabriel frowned, questioning, but the thing just kept laughing.

“So rarely do I get to know someone without reading their thoughts!” He paused again to laugh, while Gabriel continued to stare at him, confused. Anger began to build up in his chest.

“What makes you think you know me?” he shouted, his voice extraordinarily muted compared to the piercing ring of the entity before him.

“Oh please, your thoughts are written on your face, your hands, over every inch of your nonexistent soul. Out of every being I’ve met, you are the first one that actually wants to be here, which means you truly think you deserve to suffer. Goodness, I am just dying to know what you did that was so horrible.”

He looked down, remembering. His fear, his cowardice. Fleeing from his family because he was too scared to save them from each other. His treatment of the Winchesters just because he loathed the thought of what they could become, then hiding from a world that needed his help. Yes, he deserved whatever pain and misery came next.

“Well, sorry, but even if I wanted to keep you here, I just can’t, not with you awake. I do like my sleep.” Without another word, he vanished, sinking into the darkness.

Gabriel blinked, and gasped as he tasted fresh air, his senses suddenly overloaded after the featureless void. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees above him, he was dressed just as he had been when...he panicked, feeling for the phantom wound in his stomach. He found nothing, just his normal layers of cloth and skin.

After his ears stopped ringing and his eyes cleared he saw he was on the side of a highway, under the shade of a few trees. It looked familiar, though most places on earth shared a vague similarity. Trees reminded him of the bunker, the Winchesters, and Sam.

Thinking of Sam felt like getting stabbed again, but he knew he should go to him. Just to be sure he was alright. Then he would vanish again, and forget about everything. He smiled to himself. “Still a liar,” he thought guiltily.

—————————————————————

Sam woke up with a jolt. He had dreamt of Gabriel again. He wondered briefly why his brain forced him to keep seeing his face, his sly, annoying, smile. Just another in a long line of people who were gone because of him.

The sound of his phone ringing had stirred him. It was probably Cas, likely with an update on Michael. On Dean. Part of him didn’t want to pick up, didn’t want to remember what had happened to his brother, who had once again sacrificed himself for him. He reached over to his phone as it stopped, but was surprised to see an unknown caller ID. He waited for the them to call again, but there was nothing. “Probably spam,” he thought absentmindedly, lifting himself out of bed.

He wandered around the kitchen, apathetically putting together his breakfast. It was eerily quiet, but in his stupor Sam didn’t care to notice. That is until he noticed the rustling of wings and the vague but piercing scent of miscellaneous candies. He didn’t turn around, because he was afraid, afraid that the feeling would vanish and he’d be faced with an empty bunker and the sound of guilt.

“Heya handsome.”

Sam pulled in a sharp breath and turned to face Gabriel the archangel.

“I suppose you must have a lot of questions, but I can’t-“

“How?” Sam interjected. His face was a slack mask, dispassionate and empty. Gabriel sighed and moved out of the corner, for once, at a loss.

“I don’t know Sammy. I was dead, but I guess whatever afterlife I fell into didn’t like the taste.” He paused a moment to let Sam speak, but he remained silent. Gears were turning in his head but for once Gabriel couldn’t read them. “Well, now you know. I think I’ll be on my way now.”

He started to turn but as he did Sam closed the distance between them, latching onto his hand. They held each other’s eyes, letting the moments stretch. Sam held on to Gabe’s hand, as though anchoring himself, then dropped it and his gaze.

“Gabriel my brother is in trouble. Michael got through to our world. Dean gave himself to Michael in order to save me,” he recounted, his eyes tethered to the floor.

He heard Gabriel scoff. “And what? You think I’m going to be any help? Tell me Sam, what happened the last time I went against him? You don’t want me on your team.”

“Yes I do,” Sam said forcefully. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

His eyes flared. “I’m. Not. Brave. Sammy I’ve run every chance I’ve gotten. I am a coward. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Look, you’ve run away a few times, but you always save our necks when it counts-“

“No, this is where you shut it, Sam!” he barked. As he noticed the expression on Sam’s face he subsided, tone evening out, but the fire in his eyes betrayed the emotions building behind them. “I’m going to tell you my story, Sam. My real story. From the top.”

—————————————————————

“It starts with my family. Dad and Michael and Raphael versus Lucifer, all telling me to choose a side, but I could never choose, no matter how I justified each cause. I knew I was supposed to be the peacemaker, the reasonable middle child but I convinced myself it wasn’t necessary, that they could work out their issues on their own. Lucifer gets kicked out, and I was so afraid that I’d be next on the chopping block. I found Loki, and he gave me everything I ever wanted. In my own way, I learned to love humanity, just as my father asked me to.

“Fast forward a couple millennia, and in comes Sam and Dean Winchester. Naturally I knew the destiny you were a part of, and I hated you for it. I steered clear though, kept my nose clean of all your business until you came knocking on my door. I’ll be honest, I wanted to kill you the second I laid eyes on you. I mean, you’re the vessel of Lucifer, destined to bring the Apocalypse and on top of everything you’ve gotta be adorable?” he paused for an exasperated laugh.

“I knew I couldn’t reveal myself though, so I played my part. I allowed myself to die, so you wouldn’t go looking for me anymore. I forgot about you, about everything all over again but you found me again, and I hated you even more.” He stopped and turned to look at Sam, his eyes as vulnerable, sorrowful. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

He didn’t give him a chance to respond, continuing the bitter monologue. “After that, you found out who I was, and I still stayed away, until I heard that you’d been taken by the pagan gods. I knew I had to do something, and for once I realized I wasn’t scared off. I prepared backup plan after backup plan. Maybe I thought that by dying a hero’s death, you might come to see me as that. A hero.

“Once again, I turned tail and began to forget, letting myself fall back into those same patterns I had grown accustomed to. Asmodeus got his hands on my and I spent the next few years as his personal Grace tap. He broke me, Sam, well and truly. I retreated into myself. Nobody would hurt me, I thought, if I forgot how to feel, how to fight back. I let myself become that whimpering miserable thing Ketch brought you.”

There were silent tears rolling down his cheeks now. Before he could continue, Sam spoke up, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Gabriel you endured so much. It was never your fault, and it’s okay to be scared. Lucifer, Loki, Asmodeus, even me and my brother were all wrong about you. In the end you gave your life to save us.”

“That’s just it, Samshine. I never did it for your brother, or my brothers or the greater good or even the end of the world,” he whispered. “Everything brave I ever did, I did because of you. Because you suffered through everything I threw at you, because you faced the destiny assigned to you and spat in its face, and because you were under Lucifer’s foot for a century and you can still stand on two feet. Because when I saved you from that douchebag Asmodeus I was only returning the favor.” There was a moment where Gabriel thought about biting down on his next words. A brief flutter of courage put the words in his mouth. “Sam Winchester, you make me want to be brave. I-“ Brown eyes stared into blue, and he let his heart open. “I love you.”

Silence settled in, waiting patiently for one of them to break it. Sam looked uncertain, gazing at the archangel as though seeing him for the first time. “Gabriel, for what it’s worth, I think courage counts more when you’re scared.” He pulled closer, the unspoken words still lingering in the air around them. Gabriel gripped his arms and held his breath, hoping, praying, and trusting.

Time stopped as Sam gave in. “I love you, too.” He held his angel close, and knew he would never let go.

Thanks for the read! 💙

#sabriel #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #angst tw #self-hate tw #self hate #sam winchester #Gabriel #gabriel the archangel #gabriel x sam #mention of destiel #qstiel #confession #no smut #not even a kiss #lots of feelings #post-s13 #post s13

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thearrangment-phff · 7 years ago

Text

XXIX. Guest List

February 2017

The day before Valentine’s day Isabella and Harry, along with Isabella’s parents and four ladies-in-waiting began discussing the bridal party at the early hours of the day. The sun wasn’t even up when Harry answered the door and found the group of seven standing there. Isabella was half asleep and looked as if she attempted to get dressed but gave up halfway.

Isabella’s father, Carl Christian, was the one to be carrying all the equipment, most of which Harry didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t until Christine of Orleans-Braganza and Charlotte of Murat began to set up three dry erase boards in the lounge. Each one of the boards was already labeled.

The first was for the bridal party and Christine had begun to write down possible names of the children who would be a part of the wedding. The second was for Harry’s immediate family and then that board had a thick black line down the middle. One section was for his father’s side of the family while the other was for the Spencer’s. The final board, which was very much larger than the rest, was dedicated to Isabella’s family. The Habsburgs and Luxembourg’s.

Amongst the chaos, Harry looked around the room to find his fiancé asleep in the corner of the room with a blanket around her. The blue blanket was one usually kept on one of the chairs for company. He thought about leaving her there or possibly picking her up and letting her sleep in his bed. Once he saw Charlotte of Murat coming in his direction he had no choice to wake up Isabella because he wasn’t going to deal with any of her ladies-in-waiting by himself. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but those women scared him.

It took a slow minute before Isabella had stood up with the blanket still around her and gave Harry the maddest face she could give, though it wasn’t making any effect on Harry. Charlotte grabbed one hand of Isabella and the other of Harry’s before placing them in chairs in front of the boards. There were already names on the first board for Isabella and very few names for Harry. They even had several question marks next to ’supporter’ for Harry.

“Why isn’t Gabriella’s name next to maid of honor? She’s my first choice,” questioned Isabella.

“Darling… Gabriella won’t be able to be your maid of honor because… she’s pregnant,” answered Marie Astrid.

“I’m sorry what?! By who? She can’t be pregnant!”

“You know that her and Henri have been seeing each other for some time now. It wasn’t an accidental pregnancy, they planned to have children, and Henri plans on marrying her next year,” explained Carl Christian further.

“Well, how far along is she?”

“She’s about 2 months. She thought we should know and then tell you that she can’t take any formal position in your wedding other than being just a guest,” smiled Marie Astrid.

It took a couple of seconds for Isabella to process that her little sister carried a human inside her at the moment, “So I guess this means we are definitely inviting Henri’s family to the wedding,” joked Isabella.

“He’s family either way.”

“Who is Henri and how is he related to you?” Asked Harry.

“Henri is a Prince of Bourbon-Parma so as a descendant of Robert Duke of Parma and through King Christian IX of Denmark. More importantly, Henri’s grandmother is Princess Marie Gabriele of Luxembourg a sister to our grandfather Jean. Henri’s closest relation is being our second cousin.”

“Second cousins. Like your parents and you and Joachim?” Asked Harry.

“Exactly,” agreed Isabella.

“We were thinking your cousins Marie Gabrielle or Charlotte could be your maid of honor,” smiled Christine.

“Not Marie Gabrielle. She is planning her own wedding so your only option is really Charlotte unless you have another idea Isabella,” corrected Carl Christian.

“Charlotte is fine. Perfect actually.”

“Perfect opportunity to find her a proper husband,” smiled Charlotte of Murat.

“No one will use my wedding to find spouses,” said Isabella in immediate anger.

“My dear, weddings a hundred year ago between royals were used for that exact reason,” replied Charlotte.

“Could we please move on?” suggested Harry.

“So, it’s decided? Charlotte shall be your maid of honor?” Asked Marie Astrid.

“Yes, I would like to tell her myself. Perhaps when all of the family is in Luxembourg next month. I can inform Charlotte and her parents of my decision,” agreed Isabella.

“Okay. Harry do you have any idea for will be your supporter or supporters?” Asked Marie Astrid.

“No. I do have one or two ideas but…” Mumbled Harry.

“Care to share?” Asked Charlotte of Murat.

“Well my brother is one but he’s busy. He has children and I was thinking Alexander if he’s available.”

“Oh, what a lovely idea!” Smiled Marie Astrid.

“I haven’t decided. I need more time to think about it,” said Harry.

“Not too much time. We’ll need to move things along, but it’s very sweet that you thought about Alexander for the position of supporter,” replied Marie Astrid.

“Shall we get started on the groom’s family. We can assume all immediate family of Her Majesty will be invited. Will the Gloucester’s and Kent’s also be invited?” Asked Christine.

“It would be customary that they are invited,” replied Harry, “I think my grandmother should have more of a formal list for helping me decide who is to receive an invite. My grandfather’s German relations will also be invited.”

“Will Princess Michael also be invited?” Asked Charlotte.

“Most likely yes. She is married to my grandmother’s cousin after all.”

“Isabella, I want you to stay away from the dreadful woman as much as possible,” spat Charlotte.

“I take your family doesn’t like her?” Asked Harry as he read the room. The clear distaste for Baroness Marie Christine, now The Princess Michael, showed Harry more of Isabella’s family true nature.

“She comes from nothing. Just some low life Barons and Counts and she acts like she a queen herself,” spat Carl Christian.

“That whole family is nothing but a bunch of social climbers! They were like leeches to Franz Josef and to your grandfather. All of them parasites! They enjoyed the good graces of the Austrian-Hungarian monarchy then ran away like cowards when the monarchy was abolished. Leaving their sovereign to die in exile. But that wasn’t enough, they went and joined the Nazi Party. They are disgusting people,” spat Marie Astrid.

“Remind me to keep Princess Michael away from your mother,” whispered Harry to Isabella.

“More like my whole family. Habsburgs never forget,” whispered Isabella.

“Perhaps we should put the lower Kent’s on a maybe list? Yes! We’ll have a ’maybe list’. Christine make one the board and put Princess Michael on the list,” smiled Charlotte.

The tension was thick, “Another we could put on the list is the Earl Spencer,” suggested Christine.

“My uncle? Why would we put him on the maybe list?”

“Harry, your uncle is a controversial man. All the marriages, but most importantly he’ll talk to the press any chance he gets if it means he has a camera in his face,” said Isabella in simpler terms. She just couldn’t outright insult Harry’s uncle.

“I do understand where you are coming from because my grandparents feel that way regarding his press interviews, but he’s family Isabella. I can’t simply not invite him.”

“Why don’t we save this for another time?” Asked Carl Christian.

“So, Harry’s family is done with, why don’t we move on to our family?” Asked Christine.

It was funny to Isabella that Christine said ‘our family’. Christine may have been born a Princess of Ligne but her mother was also a Princess of Luxembourg by birth. Despite her marrying a Prince of Orleans-Braganza she remained close to her blood relatives above all. Christine was Isabella’s mother’s cousin and her father’s cousin as well. She was family, but to Isabella she never completely felt like it.

Besides Olympia, Isabella’s other three ladies-in-waiting were 'friends of the family’ types. Gaelle was a Countess de Lannoy, Isabella’s distant cousin, and Gaelle’s sister Stephanie was married to Guillaume, Isabella’s cousin. Charlotte of Murat simply had strong connections to the Ligne family. Charlotte was born a countess of Ursel and when she married her husband Prince of Murat she got lucky. The Murat family had close relations with the Ligne family which is how she was able to get her position.

“Well I think we should start with foreign royalty. It’ll be a shorter list than listing our family,” suggested Isabella as everyone nodded.

“Well the Scandinavian royals will be invited,” started Charlotte of Murat.

“I’m the spare. You don’t have the invite them, they’ll probably won’t come,” interrupted Harry.

“Nonsense! The King of Norway is my mother’s cousin. He’ll come with his family as well. The Danish Queen is a delight to have at any event and if she comes then we can almost guarantee the King of Sweden to come as well. We must send a separate invitation to Princess Madeleine of Sweden as she’s living in London,” said Marie Astrid.

“Why don’t we set up a day out with Isabella and Princess Madeleine. Both are foreign princesses living in this soggy country. It would help her strengthen her ties with foreign royalty. After all, two-thirds of the Scandinavian royals are only distantly related to you,” suggested Charlotte of Murat.

“I will not use someone just to ’strengthen ties’. That’s rude. If I’m going to be her friend it’ll be because I want to get to know her and want to be her friend. I’m already enough of a pawn as it is,” argued Isabella.

“You and Princess Madeleine have more in common than you think. Both of you are foreigners who married British men, and now you find yourself living in London. Thousands of lignes away from your family,” said Christine.

“I have Louis in London. Alexandra is just a couple of hours away in Scotland studying for her masters. I have ’family’ because I literally have family all over Europe. Besides, I trust Harry more than enough to make me not feel alone in London,” said Isabella as Harry placed his hand of hers and squeezed lightly. It gave her reassurance that Harry would make her feel like family.

“Isabella is right. As long I breathe I will make everything easier for her,” agreed Harry.

“What about children? Will you allow them to bring their children? Family, friends, and others cannot be painted with the same brush,” said Carl Christian.

“I’m pretty sure you said that wrong, but I’ll forget about that… well, I think the children of immediate family members must come. Maria Stella, Leopold, Katharina, and the rest have to come. Amalia and Noah too.”

“Amalia and Noah?” Asked Harry.

“Amalia is my cousin Felix’s daughter. Noah is Louis’ son,” answered Isabella before turning her attention to the main subject, “Crown Prince and Princess couples should bring their children too if they’d like. I don’t have an objection to children.”

“Harry?”

“If Isabella is fine with it then so am I, but maybe we should put it out there that just because children are allowed that they not be so young. Set a minimum age of 2 or 3,” suggested Harry.

“Lovely idea,” smiled Charlotte of Murat.

“Well Asian royals will be invited but will probably send lower royals in their place so their country is still represented,” continued Marie Astrid.

“I’m the spare. I wouldn’t be surprised if kings and queens didn’t come. One person I really want on the list is Prince Seesio of Lesotho and his family. It’s important that they are invited.”

“Done,” nodded Christine as she wrote on one of the boards.

“The Prince and Princess of Monaco should receive an invite. The Prince’s sister married a Prince of Hanover so she’ll need an invitation as well to represent the Hanoverians,” spoke Carl Christian.

“Will the Netherlands receive an invitation as foreign royalty or family?”

“Too distantly related to be considered family,” answered Marie Astrid.

“King Willem Alexander’s brother and his wife should receive an invite. Don’t forget to send one to Princess Mabel, the widow of his brother. We can’t forget about The King of the Netherlands cousins. They are after all Princes of Bourbon-Parma.”

“That can be discussed later. King Willem Alexander’s cousin may have a Dutch Princess as their mother but their father is from a disposed monarchy,” answered Carl Christian.

Harry was going to object to that but things moved too quickly as Charlotte spoke again, “Middle Eastern royals will receive an invitation as well?” Then was met with nods from several people in the room.

“The Spanish king and queen will be invited as family or foreign royalty?” Asked Christine.

“Family. King Juan Carlos would love that gesture. Besides, Franco may have given him the Spanish throne, but he knows that his blood is weak. His throne may not survive some 100 years from now. He’ll come running to his Bourbon family side for help soon enough,” spoke Carl Christian.

“The Belgians and Liechtenstein’s will be invited as family. Prince Hans-Adams will also love the gesture and it will put Isabella farther in his good graces. He may be less than ten years older than your father and I, but that man won’t live long to see a birth of a great-grandchild. Let’s all hope that he left something for Isabella,” predicted Marie Astrid.

From then on Harry watched as Isabella and her parents talked back and forth about who from their family was coming to wedding. Seeing all the names and all the titles changed something within Harry. He obviously knew Isabella came from a big family and he knew many of them had titles by birth or by marriage, but everything was starting to sink in more what he had gotten into.

Right in the middle of everything William had come into the room and looked awkward amongst the small chaos. Harry gestured for his older brother to sit next to him as Isabella was talking to her parents.

“How are things going?”

“Just going over Isabella’s family. As you can tell by the board and tiny handwriting there is a lot.”

“What does PBP?” Asked William

“Prince or Princess of Bourbon-Parma. AA basically means Archduke of Austria and the female equivalent; AAE means Archduke of Austria Este and the female equivalent; AAPT means Archduke of Austria, Prince of Tuscany. Trust me it took me a while to understand them,” smiled Harry.

“There’s a lot of them. What about all those other abbreviations?” Asked William as he pointed to the board.

“Titles I think. Some get too long and since there are so many Charlotte has resorted to making their names shorter. Some of the things she wrote I don’t even understand. I think she’s the only one who even understands what she writing at this point,” joked Harry.

“So, I was thinking that you and Isabella should come over next month for dinner. Kate feels that their first meeting didn’t go well and wants another chance.”

“Maybe. Isabella has a busy schedule so I’ll have to talk to her later. Not to mention we’re going to Luxembourg next month.”

“For what?”

“The Luxembourg Grand Ducal family is gathering in Luxembourg for the civil wedding of Isabella’s cousin Marie Gabrielle. Isabella’s also going to Belgium later on this week to attend a mass in honor of deceased Belgian Royals with some of the members of the actual Belgian Royal Family and the Luxembourg Grand Ducal Family,” answered Harry.

“I’m guessing your friends with them? The Luxembourg Royals that is?”

“If you want to call it that yes. Louis has been a big help getting Isabella situated here in London. Jean and Guillaume decided to become patrons of the Invictus games which is amazing. Her younger cousins Marie Gabrielle and Charlotte were nice to me the entire time I was in Luxembourg with them. They even helped me get to Château of Belœil when we spent New Year’s in Belgium.”

“Planning any other trips?” Asked William with a bit of sarcasm.

Nonetheless, Harry answered, because deep down inside he wanted to rub it in his brother’s face that he was the one going and not William, “Isabella and I have 4 wedding to go to. Her cousins are all marrying this year so we’ll most likely have to fly to Spain or France for those weddings. At least that’s what Isabella said. Her family mostly marry in those two countries and I think the Luxembourg Grand Ducal Family have property they all stay at in June for a holiday which Isabella and I will be at,” replied Harry.

“Can’t believe my little brother is going to be flying across Europe rubbing elbows with all of the European royalty. Can’t say I ever saw that happening,” laughed William.

“It’s not all of the European royalty. Maybe just the Belgians, Luxembourg’s, Liechtenstein’s, and Spanish. That sounds like a lot, but it’s not! Besides, it’s not like I’m the one getting these invitations. It’s all Isabella. I wouldn’t be going if it weren’t for her,” replied Harry.

“But you like it right? Getting to go to all these parties in Belgium and France. I’m the future king I should be the one going to those things. Maybe I should’ve married someone with a title,” joked William.

Though Harry didn’t take it as a joke, “I’m not marrying Isabella for her title.”

“And I’m not saying you are. But Harry, be serious, you enjoy all the good things she comes with. Money, family connections, and all those holidays you will take without getting hounded by the press about the money you are spending.”

“Maybe you and Kate should spend less time holidaying and more time actually working and you wouldn’t be slaughtered in the press about it,” snapped Harry. “Besides, you sat there I have no control over her money or anything else in her names. And those family connections you praise are nothing. They are her family not some type of business connection. What Isabella and I do with our time won’t concern you or Kate.”

It didn’t take long after Harry’s small outburst for his brother to leave. The rest of the day was spent figuring out who was going to be invited. Just like Harry had predicted, Isabella ended up going to sleep on the floor by the afternoon. Carl Christian wanted to wake her up but Harry insisted that she sleep. So, Harry did what he thought was best for her. He carried Isabella into his bedroom and laid her on his bed.

Once the list was done Charlotte just told Harry this was a draft because some of the people on the list could fall out of favor. Out of favor to Charlotte of Murat meant they couldn’t give her anything she wanted. Out of favor to everyone else depended if they talk to the press about Isabella. Once again, their main concern was for Isabella’s safety and her image in the press.

#PHFF #Prince Harry Fanfiction #Prince Harry Fanfic #Royal Fanfic #Royal Fanfiction #Fanfiction

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wetsockonyourfoot · 7 years ago

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I Ain’t Your Southern Belle

(so i’m trying to post this on AO3, but I thought I might give it a try here! Sorry if this sucks!)

If there was one thing Jesse McCree wasn’t, it was a coward. That being said, when he was suddenly tossed to the wild unknown that is the foster care system, he was a bit scared. Not cowardly, just… slightly scared. After all, it’s not every day that a family disowns a thirteen-year-old child simply because he was born the wrong gender. The night honestly had been a blur, but as there seemed to be no one in the place aside from Jesse the foster care system decided to give him to a rather trusted couple who had been hosting children for several years now. Morrison-Reyes was the family name, according to what Jesse had been told, and they consisted of a cop and a high school teacher. Why they wanted another kid to look after was something of a mystery to Jesse when the found out they already had three other kids in their home. Not only that but he knows they got the records of him from before.

Jessie Isabella McCree hadn’t the greatest past. He knew from a young age that had been born the wrong gender, and the tight feeling of shame of his own situation had only grown under the influence of his birth parents. They and his two older brothers had never approved of the idea, forcing him to wear dresses, and bows. Treating him more like a doll than a person with feelings and thoughts of their own. So, on the faithful night that they kicked him out, Jesse knew he would never be allowed back near their farm, not that he wanted to be anyway. So now at sixteen years old, three years after being kicked out, he was finally found by child services and forced into the system. It all happened too fast for him to really recognize what was going on, but perhaps that was for the better. He put up little fight, though when asked his name by the officer that got him, he did reply with Jesse, and though it has little difference in pronunciations, the drop of the I in his mind did wonders.

From there he was tossed around a bit for about two weeks, before it was decided he would be going to the Morrison-Reyes home for thanksgiving and Christmas to see if they would be a suitable match. Few days of paperwork later he arrived in front of a classic two-story brick home, modernized and decorated already for Christmas even though it was about a week before Thanksgiving. School, which he had to be put back into, would be out within the week, so he would be forced to spend time with the family. He did find out though that one of his foster parents was the Spanish teacher in his school, which turned out well since Jesse was almost fluent in the language. Probably the only good thing that had come out of living in a Spanish guys house for the past three years, was the immense pick up of the language.

Thus, he was introduced to Jack Morrison, and his husband Gabriel Reyes. Jamie was the overexcited and slightly loud Australian whom he would share a lot with and also the newest of their children, Hana being an original member of the family as she had been adopted first and was a baby even before the couple was married. Finally, there was Lúcio, a gifted youth who matched Hana in age, both being eleven, and excelled with music. Hana was a rising competitive gamer, and Jamie was an inventor. All of this information was thrown at Jesse within the span of about twelve minutes. Oh, and dinner was in ten.

“C’mon, put your bags down son, we’ll get your settled.” Jack stated with a smooth voice that honestly suited the whole golden boy look he fitted in. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect smile, and a toned body. Not that Jesse was really looking at the last thing, but hey it was obvious why the man attracted Mr. Reyes. Gabriel Reyes however was a dark skinned, and hard edge sort of man. He looked like the kind that would quiet literally snap some one’s neck in half if they so much as looked at him wrong. Jesse was not a coward, just a little scared.

“Yer uh… my Spanish teacher…” Jesse mumbled looking at the hulk of a man.

“And you’re the child that’s been skipping class since you got put in my class.” He answered back simply raising a brow that Jesse ducked down at.

“Uh… yeah about that-” Jesse laughed uneasily before yelping as he was pulled into the kitchen by an overly enthusiastic Hana.

“Scare him later papa, I want dinner and dad said we’re not having it till we’re all there!” She called back towards the man, who just shrugged behind the kids and followed in line.

“So Jesse, you’re sixtee right?” Jack asked and received a nod. “When’s your birthday?” He carried on the conversation.

“Oh uh, it was like July 28th or somethin’… I ain’t got a good memory for dates.” Jesse answered slowly edging into a seat that was offered up by Jamie who seemed to be eyeing him down curiously.

Mr. Morrisons brows furrowed in confusion as he turned and handed a full plate of food to Hana. “You don’t remember? Now how do you forget your own birthday?” He tried to joke, but ended up only making Jesse duck his head down more.

“I aint celebrated it in a… a while.” Jesse answered truthfully as Jack just nodded and cut of his awkward laughter.

“Well maybe we can change that.” He offered up a plate to Jesse, who hesitantly took it and put it down on the table as quietly has humanly possible. Dinner continued on in this manner with Mr. Morrison trying to find out some stuff that had already been on Jesse’s files from Jesse himself, and the teen giving a half answer since he didn’t even know most information on himself anymore. Once he was done pretending to eat and pushing food around on his plate, he stayed and helped Mr. Reyes clean up.

“You know kid,” The man started. “You’re only gonna make this awkward if you keep dancing around and keep it awkward like this. I suggest you just give up and try to make yourself as comfortable as possible in this situation.” Reyes advised as they finished up, Jesse drying off the last dish and putting it onto a pile he had made. Seeming to be done talking, Jesse was lead to his room by Jamie. The room was right across from the couple’s room, with the remaining three upstairs if he needed them. A simple full bed, and dresser it was obvious the room was for guests. Reaching down and touching the quilted blanket on the bed, sighing as he dropped his single bag of clothing he owned. Most of it was worn down and ratty but it’s what he had so that’s what he’d wear for the remainder of his stay he supposed. Flopping onto his bed Jesse sighed and tried to curl up to get some sleep after he kicked off his shoes which thumped onto the floor.

The following morning was a Saturday, and while normally Jesse would be rejoicing the lack of school, it meant he had to spend time with his new foster family. He was up late in the morning, around 10 am was when he woke up. Wandering into the bathroom connected to his room he firstly relieved himself, and then focused on looking presentable. Popped a few zits, and rummaging through his bag for some bandages he taped up his chest. He knew this was a bad thing to do, but it’s all he could afforded and no one ever stopped him, so bandaging it was. He dreamed of having enough money to own a proper binder in all honestly, but with how things were before and the now lack of any money at the moment, he knew this was a dream for another day.

Brushing his greasy hair, he decided he would find out how to take a shower later, and headed out in the same clothes he had worn the day before. Jack was standing in the kitchen when he came in, sending a kind smile when he noticed the new comer in the kitchen. The home had been remodeled to have an open floor plan Jesse suspected, as the kitchen wall was blown open so it included the living room. An island separating the living area from the kitchen area and at the island sat a very sleepy looking Jamie and Hana who both were eating cereal with varying degrees of success in getting the fruity loops into their mouths. By Jesse’s judgment, currently Jamie was winning in getting the most in his actual mouth. Hana meanwhile was making a nice collection in her long hair.

Jesse subconsciously touched his own hair as he thought about when it was down to his waist. His mother refused to let him get it cut, and eventually he took a pair of scissors to it and fixed the problem himself. It was sloppy, and a little long in the front now, but it was above his shoulders and that’s all he cared about. “Morning Jesse.” Jack greeted him, snapping Jesse from his thoughts and the man gestured towards the breakfast bar. “Want some cereal?”

“I’m good actually.” Jesse declined not wanting to take even more of their food. “What’s everyone doin’?” He drawled out looking to the living room where Lúcio and Gabriel were decorating the large fireplace located on the adjacent wall to the door and stairs. Stockings and other items being hung up with care and lots of command hooks.

“Oh they’re just finishing up decorations.” Jack explained as Jesse mindlessly nodded along. “You can join them if you like and aren’t hungry.” He offered up as the teen nodded once more and moved into the living room watching till Gabriel noticed him and grunted to Jesse.

“Here, help him put these up on the tree.” He spoke out as the teen jolted into movement to help. Lúcio was humming while they did this, and slowly Jesse worked himself into a rhythm of handing the younger an ornament for the tree, and waiting patiently with the next one while it was hung upon the tree. This same rhythm soon seemed to follow Jesse into his life style with the Morrison-Reyes household. He would wake up, deny breakfast, help decorate or another small task/chore, then laze around for some time, claim he had eaten lunch, laze around some more and then eat dinner before showering and bed. This provided as sense of security in his routine, and when school started on Monday he simply fixed it so he would talk with Mr. Reyes during Spanish class (He was no longer aloud to skip it) and then go about his other classes. He was behind in most things considering he missed three years of schooling, though they simply threw him behind a grade and called it good enough.

He learned a lot about his fellow foster and adopted kids while he was going through the first week. Hana regularly had nightmares about her birth mother who had died while trying to get to America. Lúcio didn’t even know his birth parents, and grew up in the system from day one. Jamie however, Jesse grew particularly close too, as he found out he was also transgender. The boy offered all sorts of advice and things Jesse didn’t even know existed. He had started some hormone therapy while he was still on the streets, but he didn’t half the information Jamie had told him about it. Apparently, Reyes and Morrison had been paying for Jamie’s treatments for the better half of a year and they didn’t plan on stopping any time soon. Binders were also another topic brought up, and when Jamie found out he was using bandages to bind the boy nearly threw a fit inside of class (They both had history together as it wasn’t Jamies strongest subject). The following period Jesse was dragged to Reyes classroom who was just as appalled to find out. One doctors trip later he learned that the pain he had been feeling when putting them on was caused by a fractured rib. Jamie freaked out.

With his chest now exposed to the world, doctor’s orders, they left the office and Jesse received several looks as he tried to adjust to the sudden freedom and lack of pain he felt. He was ordered to not bind or even attempt it again for six weeks till the rib had healed properly. Left with no other choice than to follow orders he then spent the remainder of the week, god it was only Wednesday, to staying home and cleaning up the place as an excuse to explore the house fully (Jack knew but didn’t say anything. Humans are curious after all).

Thanksgiving turned out to be relatively quiet after he arrived, as far as Thanksgivings go, with just the six of them eating together happily. Jesse was slowly speaking more and more, his shyness melting away easily with the group as he happily shoveled down the delicious multicultural food. Gabe had made delicious corn salads and salsa with chips for his contribution, Hana absolutely enthusiastic to shovel down the burning kimchi that Jesse could only stand a bite of before he was coughing, Lúcio providing some relief with his sweet rabanada while Jamie and Jack both gobbled down several people’s servings of turkey. Overall Jesse couldn’t remember a time he felt so stuffed and warm when he was wrapped up in a giant quilt with a snoring Hana on his shoulder afterwards. The girl having fallen into a peaceful food coma while Gaberiel and the others were busy fighting over what movie to watch.

Jesse came to find out that they did this often, the family dinner type deal, as he was continually surprised at the warm food which always seemed to be piled onto the table every night. Once school was called back in, Jesse reluctantly got up with Mr. Reyes (who now insisted he be called Gabe) in the morning, avoiding everyone’s questioning glances as he skipped his normal classes (He didn't feel like going to them and Gabriel didn't say anything in protest anymore) and sat in the Spanish room. Conversation flowing so easily between the pair that most of their discussions ended up on the quizzes that Jesse helped grade with Gabe. It took him several days of silent contemplation in the class room however before Jesse finally got the nerve to ask Gabe if he could borrow one of his or Jack’s large hoodies to help make him feel more normal. The bandaging around his torso did little to hide his chest, and with how he looked now it just made Jesse feel weird. The man of course obliged, taking Jesse out the next day and getting him several sets of safe clothing until he was allowed his binder back.

He almost started to have a small panic attack at the thought of Gabe spending so much money on him, but luckily Jamie had gone with them and simply said he’d wear some of the clothing as well so it wasn’t just money on Jesse. He didn’t know why those words helped, but the pain in his chest gradually eased away as he found a sweat shirt he couldn’t help but ask for. ‘BAMF’ printed on the front along with two little pistols in a deep red color that Jesse found absolutely hilarious. Gabe happily obliged in his wish after laughing his ass off as well.

Jack took Jesse back to the doctors about three weeks into his stay. He learned, sadly, that no binders were allowed still, as his ribs themselves were allowing to expand free and heal up properly. While this was a downside he did learn from Jack it just meant he could eat more ice cream and blame it on his ribs, so they both gladly raided the freezers contents and ate half a gallon each of chocolate chip. Jack came to surprise Jesse with a similar taste in movies, as they were the only one’s home currently, pulling out several classic Clint Eastwood movies that had both of them raving about the action qualities immediately. While Jack enjoyed his own action and hero movies, he did love westerns for their heroes and dramatic situations. It made Jesse full out laugh when Jack tried to ask how these situations even arose back then, the teen just shrugging and claimed all of them were bored without TV.

The answer pleased Jack it seemed, as the Indiana native just smiled at Jesse, ruffled his hair, and stole a scoop of his ice cream. With the movie playing, both of their attentions were split between watching and repeating the dialogue both knew by heart, and actually just talking. “So, what do you want for Christmas?” Jack asked as he took a sip from his Coke on the table.

Jesse paused in getting a scoop full of chocolate chip, to look at him. “I thought this was my Christmas gift. Yah know stayin’ with ya’ll?” He asked resuming the motion popping a spoon full of the cold treat into his mouth happily.

“Well in a way yes, but that isn’t it. You still have to ask Santa for something.” Jack teased softly gesturing over to the mile-high stack of papers Hana had filled to the brim with gift ideas for most of the family (mainly herself however).

“Uh… hell I don’t know… didn’t think Santa came to punks like me. Naughty list and all.” Jesse shrugged back simply with his attention back on the TV at this point.

The officer scoffing softly as he looked towards the teen. “Santa and I are very close, and I’ll have you know he has you on his Nice list. So, what does the cowboy want?” He asked again with a small smile playing at his lips.

“Shucks… I don’t know Mr. Morrison. I just usually got dresses and dolls back home….” Jesse mumbled rubbing his chest lightly to ease a small itch.

“Well you aren’t getting dresses, unless you want them for some reason, so think of something else okay? Just make a list or something.” Jack suggested softly, reaching over to the table and picking up a smaller stack of paper off the table Hana had taken up. “Or at least tell us if Hana is close to what you’d like or not.” He gently offered it up to the teen to hesitantly took it.

Jesse nodding slightly to acknowledge him as his eyes quickly scanned over the items listed underneath his name. “All this stuff seems kinda…. Yah know… expensive.” He mumbled before taking an offered pen and scribbling out the items which he deemed too extravagant. “Maybe just like… I don’t know some warm socks or a blanket…?” He suggested handing the list back for Jack to inspect.

Jack sighing softly as he found most of the items not crossed out were under 10 dollars each. “Jesse, you do know both Gabe and I work for a reason, right? We can afford to get you a real gift, and if you don’t pick it Hana will. And I know for a fact she can find more expensive items.” He gently combed a hand through the teens hair, smiling when Jesse leaned slightly to the touch letting out a soft huff.

“I know… still don’t mean I wan’ nothin’ expensive…. Maybe a cowboy hat or somethin’?” He tried once again, Jack seeming to accept his answer now with a nod and his smile growing.

“Cowboy hat it is! Juuust make sure to send your letter in to Santa okay? He gets cranky if you wait till the last minute.” The officer chuckled as he casually stole a bite of Jesse’s ice cream, the teen yelping as he tried to move it away in time. “What??” Jack laughed, feigning innocence as Jesse pouted.

“Fine then… I’m gonna take a nap instead ice cream thief.” Jesse huffed, but still smiled as he put the ice cream tub back into the freezer, and his spoon in the dishwasher. Jack still snickering as he turned his own attention back to the movie at hand. Jesse meanwhile headed into the guest room he’d been calling his own. A large red blanket with a geometric design stitched into it laying at the foot of the bed, one of the favorites of the blankets they had given to him to use in Jesse’s opinion. Changing into a slightly more comfortable pair of pajama pants and sliding underneath the warm covers, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders snuggly.

Sleep found Jesse quickly, taking his mind into a dark and endless abyss where he floated softly in the warm pleasure of the bed around himself. His thoughts gently drifted about, wondering from recent events, thinking of students who populated Gabe’s class room during the day. Eventually his mind wondered how his brothers were doing, before a jab of pain resonated into his chest from the idea. They were fine. Of course, they had to be fine, he was gone after all, something they wished for greatly.

Thoughts slowly swirled down from this point until Jesse was whimpering pathetically in the real world, twitching and shaking despite the blankets on his frame. He had only managed to dose for an hour before he woke up, sucking in a surprised breath. His chest lit up in flames, pulling tightly at the warm sweatshirt he had on till Jesse slipped the material off himself in an attempt to make the tugging stop. He was left in a short sleeve t-shirt he had snatched from Jamie some time ago, along with his sweat pants which he begrudgingly noticed felt wetter than usual. “Fuck….” He hissed out slowly getting up and shuffling into the bathroom. As fate would have it, his period had started. Wonderful, this stupid thing again.

He had thought the hormone treatments had stopping it, but having been off them for a while apparently brought them right back on when the hormones had been flushed out his system. Jesse begrudgingly slapped on a pad and tampon, holding his cramping middle as he shuffled out to change pants and lay down to try and control the tightness in his chest. He was a little shocked however to see his room wasn’t empty when he came back in. Jamie was standing over by his bed, gathering up the sheets from his bed and looking over with a smile when he saw Jesse. “’Ey! Wanna come up in my room?” He offered as he continued to strip the bed down, Jesse now seeing there was a blood spot staining the perfectly white cloth.

“U-Uh… yeah sure…” Jesse nodded looking at his feet as Jamie passed him, dumping the sheets in the laundry room before both teens shuffled into his room.

“Sit down, I gotta find som’tin.” Jamie instructed as he started to search through is mess of a closet, Jesse looking and sitting down on the stuff animal filled bed. It was the weirdest thing one wouldn’t expect when thinking of Jamie, but the boy loved stuffed animals. Whenever the family went anywhere he always got a stuffed animal from there that in some way represented the place they had gone.

When the teen returned, he dumped a clothed pad of some kind on his lap, before plugging the device into the wall. “Heat Pad. Always helps with my cramps.” He explained sitting across from Jesse with a bounce of the bed’s springs. “I thought’d you like it and maybe I could tell you a little bit about my fine specimen collection!” He asked gesturing to the stuffed animals, plucking up a stuffed Pig. “This one is my bestest one! I got it from my best mate back ‘ome, and lovingly named it Roadhog! Cause that was ‘is nickname ya see-“ Jamie began his giant tale of the animals Jesse laughing as he went on to tell a story about how he and this ‘Roadhog’ character had played around, almost blowing up an ant hill.

This is how the evening evolved, with Jesse laughing or leaning on the edge of his seat as Jamie chattered the world away with the seemingly endless tales of his stuffed animals. He found out Jamie had a slight concussion when he was younger causing him to have a slightly harder time forming new memories. So, the stuffed animals were like a touchable journal or memory bank. If he wanted to remember a time better, he could pick one of them up and it helped him remember. Without realizing, as the two teens chatted, eventually even swapping stories, Jesse’s chest unwound itself till he was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

Hearing the commotion Jack peaked on the pair, smiling softly as he saw Jamie pretending to be attacked by a stuffed Crocodile while telling the story of the families first zoo trip with Lúcio. Jesse looked perfectly at ease with him, both of them unknowingly leaning slightly on each other for comfort and support. Quietly shutting the door again Morrison walked back downstairs where Hana and Lúcio were playing video games. He dropped a kiss on both of their heads as he passed the couch, sitting down at the dining table and going back to scribbling away at some forms for work.

His phone lit up with a text, a maraca shaking sounding out to alert Gabe had texted him.

‘How did the doctors appointment go? -G’

Jack smiled as he looked down at the message and typed back the reply.

‘Perfect. -J’

#overwatch #trans overwatch #trans jesse #trans jesse mccree #overwatch jesse #jesse mccree #please dont get mad at #lucio correia dos santos #dva #jamison fawkes #junkrat #ao3fic #i'm rewriting it and stuff #soldier 76 #reaper #reaper76

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not-a-space-alien · 7 years ago

Text

Falling Hazard, Part 12: The New Archdemon

Series masterpost

On AO3

The war party’s progress was halted in the fifth circle.

This annoyed Maltha to no end. It was annoying to have to give a signal for those behind her to stop when they had just gotten going, but it was even more annoying to her that this group consistently thought, for some god-forsaken reason, that they had enough power to overthrow her.

Maltha held her hand up to halt the group behind her, armor clinking as everyone came to a standstill. She eyed the roadblock: A large group of demons of varying ranks, with a few higher-levels thrown in. And at the very front was a figure wrapped tightly with inexpertly administered bandages.

“Duke Jezebel,” said Maltha.

The duke looked very angry. “You will proceed no further! We settle this now!”

Maltha’s hellhorse pawed at the ground under her, snorting. “All right,” she said mildly. “Very well. You may speak.”

Jezebel looked surprised. “Er…all right! Maltha, we know that you’ve orchestrated the fall of the archangel Michael and are planning to use him for your own purposes!”

“I have, and I am,” said Maltha.

Jezebel paused, as though she hadn’t expected it to be so easy to get Maltha to admit it. “Ah… Well, whatever it is you’re planning on doing, forget it! We’re going to get him first and use him for our schemes!”

“Duke Hastur was the brains of this operation, wasn’t he?” said Maltha. “Remove him from the equation and everything falls apart.”

“It hasn’t fallen apart!” said Jezebel. “We’re right here!”

“I said Duke Hastur must have been the brains because it certainly couldn’t have been you, Jezebel. If you wanted to seize the archangel Michael as he fell, you should have tried to beat us to him in Limbo, rather than stopping us halfway with a much weaker force.”

Jezebel’s eyes roved Maltha’s forces, and then she flew into a silent rage when she realised Maltha was right.

“Well, never mind that!” Jezebel finally yelled. “We have demands! I demand that you listen to my demands!”

Maltha smiled politely. “All right. I’ll listen to them.”

“What? Really?”

“Of course. What kind of ruler doesn’t listen to their subjects?”

Jezebel drew herself up. “All right, then! Our first demand is that you release Duke Hastur to us!”

“All right,” said Maltha, not dropping her smile. “If that’s what you really want.”

The renegade demons all look at each other, murmuring unsurely. Jezebel watched her with suspicion.

Maltha turned. “Mammon, would you be so kind as to summon Duke Hastur from wherever they’ve put him?”

“Of course, lord.”

Maltha held out her hand.

“What are you playing at?” Jezebel said.

Hastur’s decapitated head materialised into her grip, and she held it up.

She was met with dead silence.

Maltha’s horse trotted lightly across the line, all eyes following her. “Oh, isn’t this what you wanted?” she said sweetly. “A proper demon lord who shows no mercy?”

When no one responded, she tossed the head. It rolled towards Jezebel before stopping, eyelids drooping and jaw slack on the ground. The demons towards the front of the company gasped and drew back slightly. Jezebel looked at it with incredible anger.

Maltha’s smile finally dissolved into a stony expression. “You’ve reached the line past which my patience expires, all of you. You will be treated with the same respect, or lack thereof, that you show me. I don’t have time to fuck around with you anymore. Have I made myself absolutely clear?”

The rest of whatever Jezebel’s demands might have been were not forthcoming. The demons behind her began to disperse slowly with shocked whispers.

“Come back here, you cowards!” Jezebel screamed. When they scattered away from her instead of regrouping, she turned back to Maltha, growling in frustration. “You won’t get away with this!”

Maltha crossed her arms. “All right.”

“Stop it! Stop that!”

“Stop what? I’m just standing here.”

Jezebel stomped her feet. “You’re infuriating! You’ll pay for this! You will!”

“All right.”

The last of her support finally bolted, leaving Jezebel standing alone. Her eyes raked over the opposing group.

“I see your snake and that angel with him aren’t here,” she said with some attempt at menace. “It would be unfortunate if something happened to them.”

“I have erected barriers a mile thick around them with the help of my most clever spellcaster. They are formulated to only permit entry to Aziraphale and Crowley’s allies, which you would not be considered by any stretch of the imagination.”

“We’ll see about that!”

“Jezebel, I would much prefer not to kill you as well, but you’re not leaving me much of a choice.”

Jezebel stepped forwards, as if to try and pass her. Maltha steered her horse to block her path. Jezebel side-stepped to try and get around her, but Maltha moved to match.

“Fine!” Jezebel yelled, whirling around and stomping away. “But you’ll regret this! I promise you will!”

The path up out of Hell was finally clear as Maltha watched the last rebel go. “I’m sure I’ll regret many things about today,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think your tantrum will be one of them.”

The sky was beginning to darken on Earth. A pair of stargazers leaned on each other, watching as the dots of light mottling the night canvas began to come on one by one.

“Sure is beautiful, isn’t it?” said one.

“Not as beautiful as you,” said the other.

They snuggled together, just watching. A shooting star winked across their field of view, a small and enormously bright object impossibly far away, or so they thought. They were too far away to hear it screaming.

“Good, he’s not here yet.”

Maltha dismounted from her hellhorse, examining the terrain of Limbo for the telltale crater that heralded the arrival of a newly fallen angel. The only one they could find was old and already had grass growing in it, which she guessed would have been Kabata’s.

Maltha found a small molehill and stood on it, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone, listen up, we’re going to do this exactly as planned or we’ll increase our chances of failing. First of all, does everyone have their rebellion buddy?”

They all looked at each other.

“We’re using the buddy system. If you don’t already have one, find one now.”

There was murmuring and shuffling around.

“All right. Now, we’ll go into Heaven as two groups. The party that breaks off with me will consist of six warriors, who can supervise me to make sure I do nothing outside of our agreement, as discussed earlier. Where is Paula. Paula?”

Paula raised her hand.

“You’ll have a group of principalities with you to supervise Abraxas the same way. We want plenty of witnesses around to corroborate if anyone in Heaven tries to accuse the demons in the party of something we did not do. It is essential we refrain from collateral damage if we are to keep this attack from dissolving into a full-scale war. We do the attack, we leave Heaven crippled, and we show the other angels they should be on our side, not the archangels’. Is that clear to everyone?”

A smattering of assents drifted up.

“All right. The main party with Michael will attack Gabriel, Uriel, and then Metatron, in that order. Gabriel’s section of Heaven is closest to the gate, so he should go down first. Uriel should be further inside Heaven and shouldn’t reach us until Gabriel is out of the way.” She took a deep breath. “And Metatron will probably be either in the throne room, or in the antechamber for the Book of Life. We’ll deal with that when we get to it. We’ll communicate long-distance via the smoke signals. Green for Gabriel, yellow for Uriel, red for Metatron. First signal means located. Second signal means terminated. My group will rejoin the main party once Beth has been retrieved, heading for the latest smoke signal. I don’t anticipate needing to use it, but send up the blue smoke signal if Michael’s group becomes overwhelmed and you need my support, and we’ll break off and re-strategise. The raid is over as soon as Metatron is dead. The principalities will fan out ahead of the war party to get bystanders out of the way and minimise collateral damage. Anyone resisting or challenging us should be left to me and Michael and our support. I understand we only have one healer here, correct?”

A hand stuck up from the crowd.

“Good, hello. What’s your name, dear?”

“Ramial.”

“Ramial, make sure you stay with Michael’s party. My group is smaller and I should be able to manage keeping everyone alive. Now, where is Angelo? There you are. Come up to the front, please. Okay, come on now, I know you can move faster than that.”

Everyone there who knew Angelo knew that the face he was making right now was the one he made when he was absolutely terrified beyond all reason, and they admired the fact that he came up to face Maltha anyway.

Maltha bent down so that she could talk quietly enough for only him to hear. “You want to comfort Michael after he falls?”

Angelo nodded mutely.

“Do you want to go back into Heaven with him? Do you want to be part of the rebellion?”

Angelo didn’t answer.

“I won’t judge you for your answer, Angelo. This is different than watching him cut down a bunch of demons.”

He slowly shook his head.

Maltha squeezed his shoulder. “All right. That’s all right, then. No worries.”

“Here he comes!” shouted someone.

All eyes turned up to the entrance to Hell, where something was beginning to burn closer and closer.

“All right, everyone!” Maltha said, turning away from Angelo. “Any last-minute questions?”

No one answered.

“Then let’s get moving!” A fireball plummeted into the cavern, streaking across the sky, illuminating her from behind with harsh yellow light. “It’s show time.”

Angelo was the first to take off, running at top speed towards where the meteor had landed. He could hear screaming the closer he got.

Maltha was lock-step beside him. “Hurry, Angelo. Don’t you want to be the first thing he sees?”

“Michael!” Angelo shouted. “Michael, I’m here!”

“That’s not his name anymore,” said Maltha.

Angelo bit his lip. The crater of Michael’s landing came into view. There was a creature in it writhing and howling at the top of its lungs, shape wavering and dissolving into something more bestial than man. Angelo crested the mound and slid into the crater.

He felt himself yanked backwards, then realised he had just narrowly missed being disemboweled by the new archdemon’s claws as it thrashed around in panic.

“Have some sense,” Maltha said, setting him down. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

The creature in the divot staggered backwards, yelling and crying, hands covering his face.

“What’s his name?” said Angelo over the sobbing.

“Why don’t you ask him?” said Maltha.

Angelo approached again. “Hey,” he said.

The new archdemon froze, stiff. “A-Angelo? Is that you?”

“Yes,” said Angelo, almost falling over himself to take the demon’s arm. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here.”

“Wh-where am I? I c-can’t see.”

“You’re in Hell. We’re in Limbo.”

Maltha looked up to see an angel with blue wings spiraling down into the cavern. “Raphael, hurry up!” she said, spreading her arms to gesture to him.

“Oh no,” the nameless archdemon whimpered. “No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening…”

“It’s all right. We’re not in danger. We’re safe. What’s your name?”

He did not respond, lip quavering.

“Hey, come on. Such a strong, handsome man just falls out of the sky. I’ve got to know his name.”

“M-Mykas,” he answered.

“That’s a nice name,” said Angelo tearfully. He put a hand to the archdemon’s face. “Nice to meet you.”

Raphael touched down and folded his wings. “Did I miss anything?” he panted.

“I was just about to examine him. Angelo, give us some room.”

Angelo took Mykas’s hand and stood to the side. Mykas reached his other arm out to grope around blindly. “I can’t see.”

“That will wear off soon enough,” said Maltha, removing her armored gloves and taking out a penlight. She shined it into Mykas’s canine eyes, which dilated as wide as they would go.

Raphael approached from the other side, feeling his pulse. “His shape seems stable already.”

Maltha tapped the top of Mykas’s head, where two brown ears had popped up from his hair. “Three guesses as to what his bestial form is.”

The two healers leaned over him to prod and poke. Angelo squeezed Mykas’s hand. “They’re just checking you out to make sure you’re okay,” said Angelo. “Don’t worry. Everything’s all right.”

“Did they hurt you?” said Mykas as Raphael took a blood sample with a small needle. “Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Angelo, I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re safe.”

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s examine his aura,” said Raphael.

“You might feel something,” said Angelo. “Don’t worry. They’re not going to hurt you.”

Mykas blinked rapidly, then gave a startled yelp as Raphael probed his aura.

“I-I…” said Raphael.

Maltha joined him. “It’s…”

Mykas’s aura showed cracks, remnants of what had been happening to it, but it had welded back together in certain places, as though the heat of his fall had purged it from whatever had been breaking it down. And most importantly: It felt stable under their probing, distinctly different than the volatile aura they had both seen before.

“It worked!” said Maltha.

The two turned, smacking each other with a high-five.

“Yes!”

Mykas squinted as his vision began to resolve. Then, his eyes flew open directly on Raphael.

“Shit!” said Maltha, realizing what was about to happen.

With one mighty leap, Mykas threw himself at Raphael with jaws wide open, claws extended. Maltha moved in between the two just in time, her staff materializing for Mykas’s jaws to clamp onto.

“I thought you said he was better!” Angelo yelled over the snarling, too afraid to get any closer.

Maltha’s response could barely be heard over the screeching of his claws on her armor. “He is better! Now he’s just pissed!”

“Raphael!” Mykas yelled, trying to ram his way through Maltha to get to the archangel. “You said you were going to help me! You abandoned me! You let the other archangels throw me out!”

“Raphael is not your enemy!” Maltha shouted. “Mammon, get Raphael out of here.”

Mammon trotted forwards and scooped Raphael up with her snout. “Hey, wait!” said Raphael as he was carried off.

“Don’t argue with me, boy,” said Maltha. Mykas had knocked her flat, and saliva dripping from between his toothy snarl oozed around her staff and dripped onto her face. His jaws worked at her staff, trying to get past it to bite her head.

As soon as Mammon and Raphael were out of sight, a score of warriors rushed over to put their arms around Mykas, pulling him. Together with Maltha pushing, they managed to pry him off. He stood flailing around in their arms, growling.

“Sir,” said one of them.

Mykas looked over to him, recognition finally dawning on his face. “Vincent?”

“Hello, sir,” said Vincent. “How are you feeling?”

Flicking an ear, Mykas looked around to the faces of the warriors around him. “Nathaniel....Dina...Jophiel...” A lopsided smile slowly spread across his face, tongue lolling. “You’re all here. Everyone’s here.”

Puffing, Maltha pushed herself to her feet. “Raphael is not your enemy, Mykas. No one here is. We were all part of a plot to free you from Heaven.”

Mykas’s tail began to wag. “Free from Heaven?”

Maltha spread her arms. “What else would you call a demon, hm?”

Mykas looked over to Angelo, who tried to give him a reassuring nod.

Mykas broke free from their grasps, knocking Vincent to the ground and licking him. “This is great! Great! Great! Wait.” He raised his head. “All these angels in Hell? I’m sure Uriel wouldn’t like this very much.”

“You don’t have to worry about what Uriel wouldn’t like anymore!” Vincent laughed. “And I know she doesn’t, because we’re all here to rebel against her and the others!”

Mykas looked down at him, cocking his head. “Rebel?”

“You and I have been chosen for a great honour,” said Maltha. “These angels gathered here have trusted us to lead their attack against Heaven. When we are finished, the old authorities of Heaven will be gone. The Earth will be safe. And we will all be free. What do you say, Mykas? Would you like to help us?”

“Go on...” Mykas’s lip peeled back, showing wicked teeth like icicles. “This sounds fun.”

The room Maltha had locked them in was actually quite nice: It was carpeted and furnished with a bed and comfortable chairs. But the only thing Aziraphale was focused on was the item of the locked door.

He had already nearly worn himself out kicking at it, and now he was just pacing the room and muttering to himself. Crowley was seated in the corner of the room, watching him, wondering where he was getting all the energy for such a massive tantrum.

“Come sit down,” said Crowley. “You’re not going to accomplish anything stomping around like that.”

“Let her do it?” was Aziraphale’s response. “Let her do it? That was really the best you could manage in that situation?”

Crowley unfolded himself and stood. “She’s right. She has a good portion of angels on her side who would not take this lightly. She deserves to get Beth back. She is saving Michael. You yourself acknowledge how corrupt Heaven has become. This benefits everyone except those three archangels.”

“You’re going to betray me, too?”

“They destroyed the Temple, Aziraphale. They’ve proven by now that they’ll do anything to start the war, and they aren’t going to stop until the Earth has been transformed into a blood-soaked battlefield. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s the problem? This is the only way to keep the Earth safe! Bloody Hell, Aziraphale, the first time it was you who suggested we should kill the antichrist to stop Armageddon!”

“That was different!”

“Why the hell was it different? Because he was a stranger to you?”

“Watch your mouth, serpent.”

“Watch my mouth? Watch my mouth? Are you even listening to yourself? ‘Traitors,’ ‘the arrogance’? You somehow sound like both God and Satan at once! Do you not see the problem?”

“Maltha has betrayed me. Everyone has betrayed me. What am I supposed to do? Thank them?”

“They didn’t betray you!” Crowley shouted, putting his hands on his temples. “They just didn’t tell you what they were planning because they know you’re a stuck-up self-righteous prick who would do this when he found out!”

Aziraphale crossed his arms and turned away from Crowley. “I can’t look at you right now.”

“Aziraphale, you’re smarter than this. Michael was going to die unless he fell—”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know if anything Maltha told us was true. She could be lying through her teeth. She could be deceiving us all. She could have just manipulated Raphael into making Michael fall so she could have him for Hell.”

“The sphinx was in the room.”

“What?”

“The sphinx. It calls out lies. It was in the room, but it kept quiet. Her entire story is true, down to why she and Raphael collaborated to get Michael booted from Heaven.”

“You just think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Aziraphale snapped. “I’m sure she could have found a way around that.”

“You don’t think Raphael would have been able to tell she was lying? All those angels? She’s tricked them all? Is that what you think?”

“She sits on the throne of Satan, the father of lies.”

“Satan is dead!” Crowley screamed. “You little pissbaby, you’re being overdramatic because you’re mad Maltha called you out on being a shithead. You don’t actually believe they’re traitors or any of that stuff you shouted at them. You’re just showboating. You’re no perfect little angel yourself.”

“I’ve never rebelled against Heaven like they have!”

Crowley dragged his hands down his face, laughing. “Ho-ooo-ly fuck, are you really this dense? Really? You really need to feel like you’re better than someone else that badly? To pretend you didn’t answer wrong when Maltha asked you to join? This is what you did during the original rebellion, isn’t it? Just clammed up because you couldn’t handle it, fell back on the mantras because they’re safe and comfortable.”

“Don’t think you know everything,” Aziraphale needled. “I’m positive this action is going to have consequences beyond what anyone could imagine.”

“You’re scared because you don’t like change, and you’re acting like a shithead because that’s what you do when you’re scared.”

“I was wrong to trust her. I was wrong to trust any of you demons. I should never have done any of this. Maybe I should have just left you down here and gotten on with the war.”

“What did you say?” Crowley hissed. “What the hell did you just say?”

Aziraphale remained stormily silent.

“Hey,” said Crowley, grabbing his arm and wrenching him around. “You fucker, what did you just say to me? I know you didn’t mean you should have left me to Satan when you put me down here in his hands, because that would be—”

“You heard what I said.”

Crowley’s fist came up and cracked across Aziraphale’s face. The angel leapt backwards out of Crowley’s grasp, cradling the cheek upon which a bruise was blossoming. His face screwed up into anger, and he shoved Crowley back.

And then the two of them slammed into each other, clawing and punching and cursing at the top of their lungs, tearing clothes and pulling hair and feathers with bitterness and rage they had never even held for each other before they had come to the Arrangement.

“Hey! Hey!”

The both stopped at the shout, breathing heavily, to see that the door was open and Botis was sticking his head in. His eyes were wide. “Um…Am I interrupting something?”

Aziraphale shoved Crowley off him. “No, Botis, nothing at all. What are you doing here?”

“Me and Adramelech were looking for our angels down here and…we heard you yelling. It’s improper for one’s lord to be locked up and not do anything about it. So we figured we would come rescue you.”

Even as he spoke he sounded unsure. Any other demon probably would have demanded to know what was going on first. Aziraphale tried to straighten out his clothes. “Thank you, Botis. Well, let’s go then.”

Aziraphale moved to exit, then turned back when Crowley didn’t follow. “Are you coming?”

“No,” Crowley spat. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Go to H-…go to H- go away from me!”

Aziraphale stormed back over to him. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Don’t you touch me!” Crowley shouted as Aziraphale tried to take his arm. “You don’t get to say that to me and then act like this! Get the fuck away from me!”

“You know I didn’t mean any of that,” Aziraphale fumed. “I’m not leaving you down here by yourself. Come on.”

“Oh do I know that? Do I?”

“Crowley, stop being petulant and let’s go!”

“I would rather die than go with you!”

“Fine, if you’re going to act like a child then I’ll just go without you!” Aziraphale turned away, marching towards the open door and Botis.

“Are you sure you can trust him?” Crowley shouted to his back as it disappeared. “He might betray you like I did! Surely you can’t trust demons!”

Aziraphale closed the door behind him, but did not lock it. Botis and Adramelech looked at him, dismayed. He huffed and stomped away, heading back towards the antechamber of the ninth layer.

“Aziraphale, what’s going on?” said Adramelech, rushing to catch up to him, his light armor clanking with each step.

He realised these two would probably take Maltha’s side if he told them, even though they claimed to be his friends. “Don’t worry about it, Adramelech,” said Aziraphale. “Please just help me get back up to Earth, and you can go back to what you were doing.”

“Aziraphale,” said Botis, hurrying up to appear by his other side. “If something is happening, we should know so we can help you. We are sworn to your service.”

“No, Botis,” said Aziraphale. He only realised afterwards it had come out much harsher than intended.

The two demons looked dejected, but they nonetheless took their weapons out and escorted him.

They passed through the antechamber and entered the accursed hallway that led to the eighth circle. Voices could be heard echoing from the other end. Botis and Adramelech both cursed and pushed Aziraphale in opposite directions.

“We need to hide,” Adramelech whispered rapidly.

“We need to go back,” Botis said back.

Aziraphale caught sight of an enormous boar coming in at the other end, so he broke their indecision and dove into the room next to them. The two of them followed, crouching just inside the doorway with him, out of sight.

Mammon’s heavy footsteps passed by just outside their hiding spot, accompanied by the patter of a second pair of feet and an unexpected voice: Raphael.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to convince you to let me go?” Raphael did not sound particularly scared, maybe a little annoyed.

Mammon’s reply was low and indistinct as they reached the end of the hallway. Adramelech leaned out to see their progress.

He pulled back in and knelt. “They’re gone, if we run for it now we’ll probably escape her notice.”

“Come on,” said Botis, tugging Aziraphale’s arm. “We should go.”

Aziraphale did not come on. Aziraphale was frozen looking at the room they were in.

He had only been in a room like this once, and that was to get Crowley out, and he hadn’t had the chance to take a very close look at it. Now the he did, he was horrified by it. It was worse by far than the rooms Heaven held you in to punish you. Huge, barbed hooks hung from the ceiling by chains, tinkling softly against each other. The floor was sloped towards a drain. Someone had left a pair of rusty needle-nosed pliers on the ground in a smear of dried blood. There was a clump of hair plastered to the floor. The walls were peeling and corroded. Even now the smell of sweat and blood and fear hung heavy in the air.

“Why did I say that to him?” said Aziraphale. “I told him I should have left him here. Why did I…?”

“We must hurry,” said Botis, tugging at him again.

“Why did I say any of that stuff? To any of them? What am I doing?”

“We’re not safe here,” Botis tried again.

“We have to go back,” said Aziraphale.

“There’s no time!” exclaimed Adramelech. “Mammon will catch us as soon as she sees you’re gone, and we’ll surely be punished!”

“We have to get out of here,” said Botis.

He allowed them to push him out, indecision weighing him down. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder, suddenly remembering Crowley’s shrill cries under torture, regretting everything he had done and said over the past few hours, feeling absolutely worthless.

Aziraphale still had not made a resolution by the time they exited the ninth layer. Adramelech sprinted into a very narrow tunnel hidden in the rocks. “Here.”

“What’s this?” said Aziraphale.

“It’s safer if we don’t move about in the open,” said Adramelech. “You have many enemies here.”

They all ducked into the narrow space. Botis pushed Aziraphale to go further in, then sighed.

“Sir,” he said, throwing a salute as best as he could in the enclosed space, with as loud of a throaty whisper as he dared, “I can tell you are still distressed. Please allow Adramelech to escort you back up to Earth, and I will go back and retrieve Crowley and bring him up safely.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, relieved. “Oh, yes, please do that. Make sure he’s safe.”

Botis crawled back towards the exit.

“Botis, be careful,” said Adramelech. “I would hate to see anything happen to you.”

Botis grunted. “Don’t get too sentimental, you Crayola brand feathered disaster.”

Adramelech wrung his hands as Botis disappeared. “Come on. We need to get you out of here.”

“Can’t we wait here for Crowley?” said Aziraphale. “I need to apologise to him.”

Adramelech let out an avian hiss. “Aziraphale, we don’t have time to putz around in the lower levels of Hell! Any demon below a duke is in danger here, let alone an angel, and one the rebels have it specifically out for!”

Aziraphale deflated, chastised.

“I-I mean,” said Adramelech. “You’ll have time to apologise to Crowley later. He’ll be safe with Botis.” He added in a mutter, “It’s us I’m worried about.”

“What was that last part?”

“N-nothing! Come on! No time to lose!”

Aziraphale followed Adramelech as he led the way through the tunnels. “Hey, Adramelech,” he said, while navigating a particularly rocky corner. “What would you do if the foundation of everything you’d known for six-thousand years was about to be destroyed?”

“Hm?”

“If someone you always looked to for guidance was about to be killed by someone who you knew in your heart was right.”

“Well…I suppose I’d try and stop whatever was going to happen, and suggest talking about it instead.”

Aziraphale let out a laugh. “Talk about it, right. I’m sure. And what would you do if you had kind of, sort of, made a complete arse of yourself first?”

Adramelech paused with one foot on either side of a crag. “What’s this about, sir?”

What was there to do? If Aziraphale knew Crowley, he wouldn’t want to go with Aziraphale after that fight, even if Aziraphale apologised. No, Crowley would go home and sulk. That’s what he did when he was scared and out of his element. He went to a place where he felt like he had control, and just stayed put and hoped everyone would leave him alone.

Which meant Crowley would be safe, and Aziraphale wouldn’t have to worry about him if he, say, went up into Heaven.

There would be time to make up with Crowley later. Right now, the foundations of Creation were shifting, and it was happening up in Heaven. And Aziraphale had gotten in the habit of hanging around wherever Earth-shattering things were happening.

“Nothing, Adramelech,” said Aziraphale. “Forget I asked. Let’s get going. I have somewhere to be.”

Crowley was sulking.

He didn’t want to admit that he was sulking, because children sulk. Adults don’t sulk. Demons certainly don’t sulk. But he was sitting angrily in the corner with his knees drawn up against his chest, his arms crossed, hiding his face. It was the very definition of sulking.

He had a right to sulk, he thought. He had probably just ruined his relationship with Aziraphale. It wasn’t okay to hit your beloved, no matter how stupid and nasty they’re being—

He doubted if Aziraphale would even want to see him now, not after how he had been going on about betrayal and not trusting demons. This was a repeat of the fight they had had earlier, except now it was way worse.

And now here he was. Alone. Sulking in Hell.

Well, he suddenly realised, he could sulk at home. Up on Earth. The door was still open. He knew a way up that could get him to the surface while staying mostly out of sight. He could sit in his fortress and wait until whatever was happening was done happening. Maltha would take Michael to do her thing, and if she succeeded—God, he hoped she did, the alternative was unthinkable—the Earth would be safe for a very long time with the old management of Heaven pared down. And Aziraphale would huff and stomp and have his tantrum, and then he’d mellow out and see that she had been right.

Probably. Eventually…

He stood, wiped his face, and peeked his head out the door. He had heard footsteps outside earlier, but it was quiet now. He snuck out, moving as quietly as he could. But there was no one around to be concerned about.

Keeping flat to the wall, he slunk out of the wing and out into the antechamber. There was nowhere to hide there. He’d just have to cross it as quickly as he could.

He dashed out and almost ran smack into someone doing the same thing.

Crowley staggered backwards, fearfully eyeing who it was he had almost collided with. It was only one of the kitchen staff.

“Oh,” said Crowley. “Listen, just forget that you saw me, and—”

He stopped, because he suddenly noticed the jar she was holding under one arm filled with glowing liquid angel dust, and the expression on her face showing she knew she was not supposed to be holding it.

“Hey, where are you going with—”

Crowley was cut off as the imp rammed into him, pushing him away, and then bolted for the door.

Crowley flailed to right himself. “Shit,” he said. “Shit shit shit, who was that?” He took off out of the antechamber, sprinting to catch up to her. “Hey!” he shouted. “Come back here!”

The imp’s tail disappeared out into the light of the eighth layer. Crowley suddenly remembered what Maltha had said about putting wards up to keep him safe, and he remembered it because as he vaulted out of the exit to chase down the renegade imp, he felt himself cross the border out of the wards’ protection.

And almost directly into Kabata.

“Shite!” Crowley yelped, leaping backwards as fast as he could.

The imp, panting with exertion, held the jar out, and Kabata took it. “You have to drink it,” she said. “The whole jar.”

“Good girl.” Kabata’s fearsome gaze swung to Crowley, who backed further up into the wards’ range. “But I see you didn’t get away without witnesses.”

“He’ll tell,” said the small demon.

“He’ll stay quiet if he knows what’s good for him,” said Kabata.

“I’ll take care of him,” said the small demon.

“You’ll take care of me?” said Crowley.

“You’ll take care of him?” said Kabata, sounding equally shocked.

The small demon nodded. Kabata leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

Crowley watched, conflicted, as Kabata spread his wings and spiraled up into the upper layers of Hell. “That wasn’t for you!” he shouted.

His gaze returned to the smaller demon. “And who the heck are you?”

The demon took a deep breath. “My name’s Yulera. And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Er,” said Crowley. “Okay.” He gestured around him. “I’m behind a ward, though. You can’t do anything to me.”

He did not like the way Yulera’s eyes raked over the situation, as though dissecting it for information to work out a puzzle. “No, I can’t physically pass back into the ward now that I’ve left it, it seems. But magic should be able to penetrate for a few feet into it.”

She raised her hand. Klaxons began to sound in Crowley’s head.

“This is from a book I read!”

Crowley pivoted his foot to leap back, but not fast enough. Yulera swiped her hand in a complex shape in the air with one swift motion. Simultaneously, Crowley’s shirt tore, blood spattered out, and he felt something like iron chains close around his wings as he tried to spread them.

He fell face-first into the dirt. He scrambled back to his feet, hand clamped on his side to stifle the blood welling up there. “What the f- What did you do?”

The demon thrust her arms into the air in a celebratory manner, giving a single excited hoot. Crowley drew his hand back to see that a sigil had been cut into his flesh, a familiar one.

“You bastard,” he spat, stumbling backwards. He frantically tried to pull his wings out, but his suspicions were confirmed: they would not budge.

“You won’t mess things up this time,” said Yulera. “You won’t get far enough to warn anyone he’s coming.”

“Do you even know what he’s going to do?” Crowley shouted. “Something horrible, I’m sure.”

“Next time I might work up the courage to finish you off! Best run off and hide somewhere!”

Yulera scuttled up the rock wall behind her like some kind of lizard, spreading her wings and launching up and out of sight.

Crowley stood there holding his bleeding side. “Fuck. Fuck.” He tried to invoke his healing powers, but they were locked down tight.

He put his hands on his head, walking in a tight circle. “Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Oh my somebody, where did she even read the Key of Solomon? What the fuuuuck.”

Now this was a shite situation. Kabata was going to tag along with Maltha into Heaven. Crowley had no idea what that ne’er-do-well would do once up there, but it meant Maltha’s entire plan was in danger of falling apart if he jammed himself in it like a wrench in gears.

He had to warn someone that Kabata was coming. But the war party had already left. That just left Mammon down here, but they were out of angel dust.

There had been two more jars in the kitchen, that imp had said. Three jars. One for Maltha. One for the fallen Michael. The third presumably intended as a backup of some sort. Now stolen for Kabata.

Mammon was powerless to do anything if they had already set off to Heaven, which they probably would have by the time they could reach the first layer.

Crowley had some leftover angel dust in his flat. But it had been made with the feathers from only two angels, and consequently was only strong enough for a demon his size. And it was the old version of the spell.

“What the fuck!” said Crowley, kicking a nearby boulder. “No way. No fucking way. I’m not doing that. Goddamn it. No way.”

And now he was inflicted with the restraining sigil from the Key of Solomon at the bottom of Hell, by himself. Even if he managed to make it up to the exit without the use of his demonic powers, would he even be able to get up out of Hell to Earth without his wings?

Maybe he could reach Aziraphale before he left. Maybe he could scramble up fast enough to warn Maltha. He could use the tunnels the smaller demons used to stay out of sight here. But he had to hurry.

He dashed away from the ninth layer, spotting the entrance to the hidden tunnel in the rocks, and dove towards it.

He settled himself into the tunnel, panting, grateful he had made it. Not only was he outside the ward now, but he couldn’t even use his powers, so it would be disastrous to be spotted.

He began to move forwards at a crouch.

A face half-covered by bandages appeared, with eyes that lit with anger as soon as they saw him.

“You!” Duke Jezebel raged.

“Shit!” Crowley said, scrambling to turn around in the narrow space.

He felt Jezebel’s hand ghost against his shirt just before he could haul his arse out of her reach, and he bolted back out of the tunnel as fast he could.

A vicious kick landed on his back, sending him smashing into a boulder. Crowley felt his nose crunch and blood begin to pour out. He looked up to see the wards were only a few meters away. He lunged for them, but a hand seized his ankle and began to drag him back.

“I know exactly what I’m going to do with you,” said Jezebel venomously.

Crowley had killed a duke before, but he had no holy water at his disposal and no alternatives with his powers locked down tight. He was no match for even an injured duke in this state. But that didn’t stop him from trying.

He brought his foot down on Jezebel’s fingers, and she yelped and released him. He scrambled away, but she cornered him against the boulder again.

“You can struggle if you want to,” sneered Jezebel. “That will make it more fun for me, actually.”

“Wait, hold on,” said Crowley, holding his hands out, spinning elaborate lies in his head on the fly, as was his habit when he was about to die.

“Maltha has killed someone very important to me,” said Jezebel. “And now I’m going to do the s…huh?”

This last noise was uttered as the ground began to shake under them.

“What in blazes?” said Jezebel.

A bellowing scream faded into existence, getting gradually louder and louder as the rumbling increased.

An enormous black horse broke into view, thundering hooves striking sparks against the ground as it galloped towards them at top speed. Smoke poured from its mouth as it let out a whinny. And in its saddle was a warrior in armor decorated with bones, sword held aloft, mouth open in a battle cry, baring his huge tusks.

Botis did not need to give a command or an ultimatum. He was angry, scary, ready to kill; in short, he was everything a demonic warrior was supposed to be as it bore down on those invoking its wrath, except he was aiming right for a demon who outranked him by a lot.

Either it was because Jezebel was too dumfounded to think correctly, or because she was still processing what she was seeing, or because her movements were slowed from her injuries, but she didn’t move out of the way in time. The hellhorse hit her at full speed, crushing her beneath its hooves.

She let out a painful shriek and extricated herself from under it as soon as she could, bloodied and bruised. Botis pulled the reins to circle back around. A second, unmounted hellhorse trotted up behind him, which Crowley assumed was supposed to be for him.

“Duke Jezebel,” said Botis simply.

“You,” sneered Jezebel.

Botis’s horse whinnied and reared back as Jezebel materialised a weapon and lunged at him.

Botis brought his sword up, but Jezebel’s whip cracked against him, wrapping around his arm and yanking him down off his horse. “You think you can challenge me? You think you can stop me?”

Her whip changed into a sword. Botis barely managed to scramble over and grab his own sword before she brought it down on his head.

“Ah, shit shit shit,” said Crowley, watching the two go at each other. Both hellhorses skittered out of the way of their fight.

A duke was no opponent to sneeze at in a fight, even one who was injured. Crowley tried to think of a way to help. He eyed the horses.

“I remember you,” said Jezebel, her sword clanging against Botis’s. “The cowardly deserter.”

Botis bared his tusks. “If I’m so cowardly how come you can’t scare me away?”

“Abandoned your station—“

“Hm?”

“—your teammates—“

“Maybe you’re just not scary enough.”

The flat of Jezebel’s blade smashed into Botis’s hand, knocking his sword away. He stumbled backwards, snatching his sword back up with his non-dominant hand.

“All you traitors deserve to die!” Jezebel yelled, raising her sword. “Just like this!”

One of the horses rammed into her from behind, knocking her into the ground. Crowley, clinging to its back, terrified, shouted, “Get out of here you bloody annoyance!”

He pulled the reins of the horse so that its hooves would trample her again. Botis, meanwhile, kicked Jezebel’s weapon out of her reach and pulled himself back onto his own horse.

When Jezebel finally managed to get out from under him, Botis had come around and was aiming for her again. She looked from one to the other and dashed off, hobbling as fast as she could away from them.

Botis pulled up and let her go, watching her spread her wings and get into the air with laboured wingbeats.

Crowley let go of the saddle, hands shaking. “Bloody hell. I hate these things. They don’t like me.”

“You handled your mount admirably!” said Botis cheerfully, palming the bloodied wound on his face.

“What are you doing back down here?” said Crowley.

Botis threw his hands into the air. “Heroically rescuing you, of course.”

Crowley wheezed. “Botis, I could kiss you right now.”

Botis’s horse pulled up parallel to Crowley’s. “Sir, I’m flattered,” said Botis. “And it’s true that you’re very attractive. But my heart belongs to Kyleth.”

“That’s not what I m—Wait, you think I’m attractive?”

They stared at each other for a moment, during which Botis grew considerably red.

“Nevermind that,” said Crowley, waving away the awkwardness. “I need you to heal me.”

“But I’m not a healer.”

“It’s just to my corporation. A small miracle should do the trick.” He turned to show Botis where the sigil had been carved into him. “Please, Botis, I feel like I’m suffocating in my corporation.”

“Oh, I think I can do that.”

Botis reached over and touched Crowley’s side. His skin writhed together, and he could feel the effects of the sigil lifting.

Crowley slumped forwards in the saddle with relief, letting his wings break out again. “Ohhhhh, sweet somebody, thank you, Botis.”

“Just doing my duty,” said Botis.

Crowley looked back up at him and realised he was still bleeding from a number of wounds Jezebel had inflicted on him.

“Here,” said Crowley, reaching out. “Let me heal you.”

“That would be an honour, sir,” said Botis.

Crowley worked to mend the one bleeding into Botis’s eyes. “I mean it, Botis. Thank you. There aren’t many people who would be willing to risk their life for me.”

“Well, that’s simply untrue!” said Botis.

Crowley looked up at the other demon, who was giving him an enormous grin. And for the first time, he realised it was untrue.

“Yeah,” said Crowley, smiling faintly. “I guess you’re right.”

“Everyone needs a little help every once in a while.”

“I could have died.”

“But you didn’t!” said Botis.

“I…I could have died,” said Crowley. “And the last thing I would have ever said to Aziraphale would have been that horrible argument.”

“We all have arguments sometimes,” Botis tried.

“No, I…” Crowley pulled his horse’s reins. “I need to go find Aziraphale. Right now. I’m positive he’s going up into Heaven to try something stupid, and with Kabata tagging along he—he might get himself killed, permanently killed. I can’t let that happen, even if I’m angry with him. Let’s go. Maybe we can reach him before he leaves.

“Let’s go then!”

It was straight shot up to Limbo. Most people knew better than to try and attack anyone on a hellhorse, Crowley guessed. Crowley was no better at horses than he remembered. He actually fell off at one point when they went around a particularly sharp bend, and he was embarrassed that Botis had to give his backside a little push to get him back up into the saddle again.

They made it up eventually, only to find Adramelech standing by a new crater in the ground, and no one else.

“No no no,” said Crowley, pulling his horse up. “We missed them?”

“Aziraphale just left a few minutes ago,” said Adramelech. “And by this here it looks like everyone else did, too.”

He gestured to a mishmash of chalk circles and spell ingredients lying scattered on the floor. Crowley recognised it as the setup that would get you straight into Heaven.

He seethed quietly, throwing the reins down. “Of course. Of course. Just bloody perfect.”

Adramelech and Botis both looked at him shame-facedly, as though feeling responsible for his problem despite having no idea what was going on.

Still raging, Crowley got down off his horse, spreading his wings. “Bloody fucking perfect. All right. I guess in my heart I knew I was going to have to do this, because otherwise it would have been too easy and safe for me, and we can never have that, can we? Hey Botis, do you remember Heaven’s gates?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think a speeding automobile could generate enough momentum to break them open?”

“…Why?”

Crowley snapped his fingers, and a pair of sunglasses dropped onto his face. “Because so far my return to the Heavenly Kingdom hasn’t been nearly stylish enough.”

Mykas had not been able to change his shape, no matter how much he tried, and eventually he had given up and moved on. He stood behind Maltha now, looking halfway between man and beast, licking his lips from downing the last of the angel dust given to him. He would be the only one out of the entire lot to ingest it who thought that it tasted all right. They had fitted him with armor to prepare for battle, except for his legs, because they were shaped differently now and no one could find any greaves that would fit him.

“Are you ready, Mykas?” Maltha asked.

He reared back up onto two legs and summoned his sword. The celestial anti-demon sigils that had previously donned its surface had been wiped clean. The red jewels set in the handle now glowed with a faint, infernal light. “Let’s party.”

“Lyra, prepare the route, please.”

The court spellcaster finished the chalk circle as Maltha was speaking. The dozens of incense burners around them flared to life, and she began to say the incantation.

“All things bright and beautiful...”

There was the sound of dozens of weapons unsheathing simultaneously.

“All creatures great and small...”

“Get ready,” said Maltha. “We’re coming.”

“All things wise and wonderful.”

The portal zoomed open, a milky white disc stretching along the extra-long chalk circle, wide enough to accommodate a dozen at a time.

“The second rebellion begins now,” Maltha announced, stepping forward.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

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