#ch: zadkiel

[fragmentedink-archived]

my favorite half angel/half witch hard of hearing asexual agender child who uses he/him pronouns 🫶🏻

[avoidingcertaindoom]

Whumptober Days 2 and 3

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife’s in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you.”

~~~

Click. Click. Click click click click--

The nurse was probably going to take the PCA pump away at this rate. It wasn't like he thought the medication was endlessly draining into his IV at every button press, the nurse at the time was very clear that it was a limited dosage for a limited time. He didn't even get that much out of the analgesia, it almost made him feel worse before it did any improvement. 

But as his vision swam, skewed first by pain, then sedation, all on top of the wobbly uncertainty of having to focus from one side, something about the sound was satisfying. It also gave that hand something to do that wasn't scratching at or under the bandages tight on the right side of his face.

Click click click--

The door made its own click as it opened, and Zadkiel swung his head over to see who it was before flinching back so hard the bed jolted with him.

Why the fuck--

“Zack?”

…he should have expected it to be his father. And perhaps the revelation ought to have made him relax. Instead he tried at the button again,  only to frown and hold it up to his eye to examine.

Ezekiel sat on the right side of the bed, which may well have been back on the other side of the wall for all the visibility it gave. Zadkiel didn't know if he was more annoyed with the possibility that his father couldn't be arsed to come on the side he could be seen, or that he was putting it on Zadkiel to make the effort. “Does it hurt? Should I get someone?”

“No.” The button was stuck, or loose, or something. He tried tapping at it harder to dislodge it and only succeeded in cracking the plastic.

“Are you sure? I can--”

“It's fine.” It wasn't fine. He broke the stupid thing. He dropped it onto the scratchy blanket and stared up at the fuzzy lines on the ceiling. The heart monitor was still on an uptick from Ezekiel's arrival, alarming annoyingly. He wondered if a nurse would mute it for him if he paged to ask.

His father cleared his throat. “If you're sure you're fine, some investigators have called ahead to speak to you.”

“Speak to me?” He finally turned his head, only to focus on the wallpaper patterns instead as just looking at him made his chest tight. “About what?”

“About---it's better if they explain.” There wasn't even an attempt to meet Zadkiel's eye.

The heart monitor got even louder. “Well I'm not speaking to them.”

“Zack--”

“No. I don't even care. Ephraim can go fuck himself and so can--”

The door opened and they both glanced to see a nurse hurry in, trailing two men with badges behind her. She went straight to the monitor with a brief introduction of the investigators while they stood at the foot of the bed.

“Is he ready to speak with us?” One asked Ezekiel.

Zadkiel didn't give him a chance to reply. “Not happening. Bye now.”

“It's just a few questions,” the other tried to say reassuringly. 

The nurse tsked, examining the damaged PCA unit. “You should have given our team the heads up then, his current medications have him in no state.”

“You gave him more drugs?” The response was disbelieving.

Zadkiel blinked. “More?”

“We were told you were under the influence on arrival to the emergency department.”

“Under the-- I don't do drugs?”

The first investigator cocked an eyebrow. “So you're saying you were completely sober?”

“I--” His throat clicked and he shut his mouth, trying to process and not wanting to bother anyway. The silence was already nauseating.

“Well? The other party had reason to believe you had taken something.”

“Ephraim could have been mistaken,” Ezekiel tried, but Zadkiel had to cut him off. Had to speak before the words in his throat turned to bile.

“I had a drink or a few, I was out with friends.” Fair weather friends anyway, he didn't think they'd be keen on being sought out for bullshit like this. “What of it? I wasn't drunk.”

The nurse muttered something under her breath before shaking her head and placing a gently hand on his shoulder. “That was then, this is now.” She turned to the investigators. “Are you done? He needs his rest and none of this sounds too urgent to wait on.”

“Surely he can answer a few more--”

“I said no to start with! Piss off already.” His hands were shaky and his eyes--eye, stung. The spot where his right eye used to be didn't sting so much as burn, trying to match the other in forming tears from something that his uncle had either destroyed in the altercation being discussed or that had to be removed with the rest of the mess left behind. Even under the haze of anesthesia he felt it, like a twist of a knife. He shut the eye that remained and dug the heel of his palm into it, trying to alleviate the pressure set to crack his skull.

“Fine. You got your chance to cooperate. Zadkiel Erminio Chayyim, you are under arrest.”

“What?” 

A new click this time, and coldness around the wrist of the arm almost as torn up as the right side of his face.

His hand dropped just enough to open his fingers and gawk as the investigator closed the other end of the handcuffs around the railing of the hospital bed.

“This has got to be a mistake! Let me call Ephraim, he can--”

Ezekiel's stammering was cut off sharply. “He came down to press the charges this morning. Your boy did a real number on him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Zadkiel was breathing so hard it felt like he would either throw up or pass out. “Look at me! I should be pressing charges--”

“Self defense isn't a crime.” The investigator turned to face the nurse, who'd frozen in place while she tried to keep up with what was happening. “You'll have to let us know if he moves rooms, or when to collect him at discharge. We want no chance of flight risk.”

“This has to be a misunderstanding,” Ezekiel insisted, struggling to come up with some more reasonable explanation. “It was-was just an argument, a bad one, no one--”

“Get out.”

All eyes turned to Zadkiel. His fingers had closed again and he was pressing down as though he was trying to rid himself of that eye as well. “I'm not going anywhere, clearly, so just get the hell out of my room.”

“Please, just let me try to fix--”

“I said get the fuck out already!”

The nurse finally unfroze and proceeded to usher all visitors out of the room, promising to come back and do something about the cuffs before shutting the door.

Zadkiel stared up at the ceiling, tears leaking down his cheek on one side while the other continued to ache endlessly. “Self defense” and “just an argument”? Why was he forced to bother with honesty when no one listened? No, when no one had the sense to see and acknowledge what was right in front of them?

He couldn't turn over easily between the handcuffs and all the cuts and scrapes on his arm, so he wound up tugging a pillow into his good arm from under him. He held it over his face, blinding himself to the world, and promptly started to scream.

[oh-atlas]

ZADKIEL KEYES

i. former speaker of clio ii. wife widow of markus keyes iii. sentenced to be executed 

[rex-daemoniorum]

read zadkiel’s story here

[biorusted]

Title: More Than One Option Characters: Gabriel, Michael and Lucifer, Natalie Pairings: none Word Count: 2453 

Summary: Gabriel goes to Michael’s room aiming to get permission to search for Lucifer, but ends up comforting him instead. Meanwhile, Natalie is given the answer to an infamous moral dilemma. -- Just two scenarios I've been playing with since the gift update. 

Gabriel always found himself walking the empty halls of heaven, probably because he was always running around doing Jophiel’s, Michael’s, and his jobs. The routes he took lined up with those less frequented by his fellow angels and more likely than not, pasted by the many flowering gardens of heaven. Not this time though, the reason why he saw no one was because no one ever had a purpose to go down this particular hallway, no one except the Arch Angels, of course. Their bed rooms were private and unless the apocalypse was starting, all the other angels knew to never seek out the arch angels while they rested. Though this unspoken rule is most likely due to Uriel not being a ’waking up’ person.

The hallway itself was pretty boring, Gabriel had thought so the very first time he walked down, with all the rooms spread out on one side of a ‘U’ shape with windows that looked on an inner garden lining the other side. It's hard to believe that at one time all eight archangels resided here. Gabriel glanced over to the opposite side of the building, to where Zadkiel’s locked room was. He had never been close to them, but still, with their fall came another locked door in heaven. There are too many of those.

Gabriel sighed-- he really does think too much-- and quickened his dwindling pace. There was, after all, a real reason that he was here.  Not to rest, oh no, it would be a long while before he could rest. Right now his goal was to find Michael, who Jophiel said went to his room, to get permission to search for Lucifer, and, hopefully, get the story behind Pestilence’s recent gift. Naturally it wouldn’t be that easy, but he could work out the kinks.

He paused at Michael’s door. There really is no telling what could be behind it, even normally Michael could be doing anything. Apart of him was actually afraid of what he might see. It was obvious that Michael never let go of Lucifer, and seeing Luce’s wings, both slightly smoldering and glowing faintly, in a wooden create would affect him tremendously, but how far did it actually push him? What if it was off the ledge?

Did he actually care? Gabriel felt his heart jump at that thought. Did he? Could he honestly say that seeing on of his brother’s wings in a box and seeing another complete break down made his own heart break? He rubbed his eyes and sighed again. He'll ask himself that another time, when he wasn’t so busy.

The door wasn’t locked. So either Michael was expecting a visit, or just forgot to lock it behind him. Being dark inside, the room seemed ominous to Gabriel. He peeked inside the creaked door and scanned the room. At first he could not see Michael, the room being dark with the curtains pulled shut, but a quiet sniffle directed his attention to the bed on the far side of the room. There was a faint outline of a large mass. Gabriel quickly entered the room and shut the door as silently as possible.

It was like Michael had formed a pillow fort around himself. The habit wasn’t that strange, whenever Michael was in a low spot he usually could be found with piles of blankets and pillows around him. He always claimed he was just tiered of Heaven’s chill and needed a few to warm back up. Gabriel quietly approached the bed. Halfway there, however, he heard a light crack. He looked down and saw a part of a mirror shattered even more due to his heel. He would have to talk to Michael about his at a later time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mass on the bed shift slightly.

A weak voice pierced the already shattered silence. “Go away.”

Great. So he had been crying. That’s another one on the checklist to be weary of.

Gabriel took a few more steps before Michael said, a little louder, “I don’t care who you are: Go. Away. Any other time Gabriel would have heeded this warning and left Michael to sort himself out, for better or for worse. But today running wasn’t an option.

Gabriel stood next to the bed and contemplated wither or not he wanted to sit down. He decided not to. “It’s me, Michael.” He waited for a response, but nothing came. “I’m here because I need to talk to you.”

Still nothing.

Gabriel signed and grabbed on of the pillows and moved it to the head of the bed. He laid down on his back just close enough to Michael so the he knew he was there but far enough to get the message that he was there for business, not comfort.

He stared at the blank ceiling while a few minutes past. It wasn’t long before Michael let a sob escape from the pile. Then there was no point in holding back. Gabriel felt Michael curl up tighter in a ball, pushing his back to Gabriel’s side and sob as quietly as he could.

Gabriel closed his eyes. He still cared, of course Gabriel still cared. It was still frustrating though. Michael was so stubborn that he even denied his own blatant feelings. Could he even judge? Maybe not. But this was Lucifer. The one that dissolved their family, the one that opposed heaven and father himself, the one that would bring about the end of everything and still, after everything, Michael was brought to his knees after seeing wings in a box.

“Why are you crying?” Gabriel heard himself say.

Michael froze at Gabriel’s tone. He let out a shaky breath before saying, “He... can’t come back now.”

Is he still going on about that? It was all he was muttering when Raphael ushered him to his bedroom.

“Michael, honestly ask yourself, would he have ever come back?” he tried to not sound too harsh, but he was just so tiered of this.

Silence again.

Michael turned over and sighed. “I- I know. B-but now’s theirs no ch-oice. I have to-” he drifted off for a moment, “I have to kill him now.” His voice was just above a whisper.

Oh... Gabriel looked over, he could faintly see his brother’s outline. “Michael”

“There’s no other way, Gabriel, I have to kill my brother. I have to. Father, I don’t want to. I don’t want to. But there’s not another option. He can’t come back. He can’t...” Michael said in between his increasing sobs.

Hearing Michael’s confession, Gabriel didn’t know what to say. He never thought Michael would ever admit that he didn’t want to follow the prophecy. It had been hovering above their heads for so long. Did it really have that much of an effect on him? Of course it did. Gabriel searched for something to say. Anything that would get him back on task.

All he could come up with was, “There’s always another option.”

It worked though, Michael was quiet again.

“Like what?” whispered Michael.

A few options floated though Gabriel’s head. Humans where always good at finding other ways around problems, it was commendable. Death, for example, seemed to be a human favorite. Technically, it was an option in this case too, but not a favorable one, and certainly not one to bring up to Michael the way he is right now. Falling would be about the equivalent of dea- no, he shouldn’t have those kind of thoughts.

Lucifer was also always good at finding third or fourth options. They were always witty and strange, but followed the parameters of whatever situation was brought up. It was almost like a game they all played; make up a situation in which there were only two options and see if Lucifer could find another way. Sometimes they made no sense realistically, but it was still fun to listen and watch him think.

What would he say in this situation?

Gabriel shouldn’t think about that either.

“I’m not sure.” He lied, “Prophesies are strange, Michael, maybe it will work out in a way we don’t expect.”

Michael didn’t speak for a long time, but after a while Gabriel heard his brother’s steady breathing. Darn, he’ll have to ask permission later then.

___

They have been walking for way too long. And Natalie made sure Lucifer knew that too. God, if she complained one more time about the awful smell of the road or her feet hurting he might just give up entirely.

At least she was talking to him. After the hospital visit, she defiantly seemed more relaxed around him. Maybe because she got substantial evidence that he was not a kidnapper. On the flip side, however, her comfort meant senseless chatter about almost anything.  He didn’t know if he liked quiet Natalie or talkative Natalie more.

“So what would you do?” Natalie paused in her out loud brainstorm.

“What was that?” he looked back. He tuned her out while she was complaining about the Styrofoam cup she stepped on and soaked her shoe in soda with. What could she possible be asking him?

“In the dilemma, what would you do?”

How in hell did she get there? How much did he tune out?

“Kid, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“The trolley dilemma.” She paused as if that was enough information to go off of. He gave her a look indicating that it wasn’t. “You know, the moral dilemma where there are two tracks both with people on them and a runaway trolley heading towards the group with three people but there is a lever that you can pu--”

“Ok I’m going to stop you right there.”

“Good, because it was going to take a long time to explain it.” Natalie giggled.

Lucifer marched on. He had no idea where the next town would be and it would be nice to have an actual room to rest in instead of waiting out another night in the woods. If they were lucky, they might stay and a nice motel. Then they could take a shower, she could sleep on a bed and he could finally find something to clean his back off. He was tiered of feeling the sharp pains when he twisted and even more tiered of feeling the blood trickle down his back. Hopefully it wouldn’t get infected before he got actual medical attention, boy that would be the icing on the cake.

“So... what would you do?” the girl chimed in again.

“Huh?”

”For the Dilemma! Would you pull the lever or do nothing?”

Oh. She was still going on about that.

Lucifer sighed and slowed down a bit, letting Natalie walk next to him. “You know” did he really want to do this? Engage in this potentially long winded conversation... fuck it why not. “That’s not how you’re supposed to propose the question.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” she looked up at him earnestly.

He glanced briefly at her green eyes before looking up at the sky. “What you’re supposed to say is ‘what would you do’ by saying ‘would you pull the lever blah blah blah’ it presents only two options to the person you’re asking, which is not the point.”

“What do you mean by ‘not the point?’” she kicked an empty plastic back and watched it float in the slow breeze.

“Well...” Lucifer sighed, “The reason it’s called a moral dilemma is because it tests the person’s morals, right? There is no wrong or right answer, only what the person deems is best. Fifty people could all say the same thing, but have different reasons for doing it. So by only presenting two options, you’re limiting what a person can say etc. etc.” he waved his hand dismissively.

Natalie thought about that for a few moments, visibly thinking about what he said from different angles. “Ok... so what would you do.”

“Easy, I would walk away.”

“And leave three people to die?” Natalie said casually. She wanted to know his reason, his moral ground. Kid wasn’t smooth, but she probably realized that.

Lucifer sighed, “They got themselves into that situation, they can suffer the consequences.”

“Ok, but you saw them and walked away, wouldn’t-”

“No, it wouldn’t, I don’t care about those people, I don’t know anything about them. They’re people of no consequence.”

“What if they were you’re brothers.”

“Then they are perfectly capable of getting themselves out of that situation.” Lucifer said without missing a beat.  

“What if Michael was-”

“What if the sky was purple and it rained citric acid? What if suddenly Venus exploded? We just don’t know. Stop with the what ifs, girl.”

Natalie jumped and shrunk back. She followed behind him like a puppy in the pouring rain would. He tried to not let it bother him. It shouldn’t. Eight months ago it wouldn’t have. But damn if a lot didn’t happen over the time he had met her.

“Did you know that there is a way to save the people on both tracks?” Lucifer barely recognized his voice, he doubted that the girl even heard him with how soft his question was. But apparently she did. Out of the corner of his eyes she peaked around, looking up at him.

“Really? How?” she asked, her interests peaked.

Lucifer hummed and said, “What do you think?”

“I- gosh I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an actual way to save everyone.”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course! I must be ready if I ever come across people tied onto tracks with a runaway trolley! Dude tell me!”

Lucifer felt the corners of his mouth raise and he turned to Natalie, hands in his pockets. “Just pull the lever half way. The trolley derails and everyone lives. Hypothetically.”

As expected, Natalie’s jaw dropped as this amazing new information was absorbed. She looks away, and then back at him.

“Dude...” was all she could say.

He rolled his eyes for show.

“Ok- ok. Omg ok. My mind is blown.”

“Obviously.”

She searched and stuttered to find her next words. “But- but if you knew that then why would you walk away?”

“Just because I can save everyone doesn’t mean I have to. Bottom line is, I still don’t care about those people.”

“But but- You know the way to save everyone.” She emphasized.

“Yes, kid,” He shrugged, “That’s the whole point of moral dilemmas. Why they’re so interesting to think about. There’s no right answer and there are always more than options to choose from than the ones presented.”

[soulswimmr]

High Hopes

Ch. 3

Pairing: Holy Duality (GabeMike)

Word Count: 4327

Date Numero Uno

“Good morning, Michael,” the receptionist clacked loudly on her computer as Michael was greeted by the cool air conditioning in the rec center, humming a bright “hello” to the lady who could embarrassingly call him by name. He had made quite a few trips to the rec center now, and not just to drop Kristi off at school.

Gabriel should be off work in the next fifteen minutes or so, when Michael would ask him on a dinner date like a proper man and “firmly establish his thirst” as Zadkiel had so gracefully put it. But first, he thought, peeking around the corner and climbing the stairs to the upper workout area, There’s someone I haven’t seen in at least a month.

Michael always felt bad for the little kids who had to wander through rows of workout benches and strange equipment just to reach the ballet studio, but it had never been able to phase him. According to the schedule of activities that was posted for all to see at the entrance of the rec program, ballet classes didn’t start for at least a half an hour, which meant-

Michael rapped on the glass doors to the ballet studio cheerily, creaking the door open, and poking his head inside.

“Ms. McAllister~” he sang, announcing his entrance. The bright lights in the studio were on, and a young woman was crouched over the stereo system sniffling loudly. Michael’s smile froze as she turned to him, wiping her eyes quickly and sighing.

“What do you want, Michael?” Natalie’s voice was crackly and tired as he shut the door behind them, embarrassed about...whatever he had just walked in on.

“I just wanted to say hi to my favorite redheaded ballet dancer named Natalie Anabella McAllister!” he put his hands up, leaning on the wall and giving her a sympathetic pout. “What’s got you all hung up, Gingersnap?”

“It’s nothing, I don’t want to talk about it,” she crossed her arms and turned away from him. She’d look pretty ridiculous in her black leotard and tie dye tights with leg warmers if her hunched shoulders and drippy face didn’t melt Michael’s icy heart.

Michael sat on one of the steps that led to the door and patted a space beside him, “C’mon, kiddo, talk to me.”

Natalie glanced down at the spot and her indignant composure collapsed. Her lip trembled as fresh new tears breached her eyes and she half threw herself on the steps next to Michael, hugging her knees as she cried.

“Awww, Gingersnap,” Michael slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, letting her lean on his shoulder. He tapped out a quick message on his phone and deposited it back in his pocket. “Now, what’s this all about?”

Natalie made an attempt to compose herself, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she had been holding on to. After a couple deep breaths, she pulled out her phone, bringing up messages from an unfamiliar contact. The contact picture was of some slimy looking kid that looked about as trustworthy as a hungry vulture.

“It’s my boyfriend- well, ex-boyfriend? I don’t know, he’s sending so many mixed messages,” she whined.

“Uh oh,” Michael quipped. “So, tell me about this ex-boyfriend of yours.”

Gabriel put his planner in his black bag, glancing at his phone, shining bright in the dark classroom with a new message. He unlocked it and smiled when he saw that it was from Michael.

[4:27]   Michael Alegal: Whenever you’re done, meet me in the ballet studio upstairs! We have a boy emergency!

Gabriel smiled at the slew of emojis that followed, ranging from sad faces to knives to hugs. It hadn’t taken him very long to realize that Michael was one of those people who wouldn’t feel complete texting words alone. From the implications of it, it seemed as though he was going to see Natalie upstairs, who Gabriel knew very well to have “boy emergencies.”

He closed his phone, and, after locking up the classroom and waving goodbye to Chelle, made his way upstairs to the dance studio. Michael had texted him early, announcing that he would be stopping in the rec center after Gabriel was done working, but had never specified why. Gabriel couldn’t quite shake the jittery feeling in his gut, or the spring in his step that even Chelle had noticed after he received the text. Perhaps it was worth admitting that Gabriel was excited to see Michael after texting him back and forth day in and out. Despite his strangely vain nature and wildly disproportionate emotions, Michael was a gem to be around, occasionally stopping through the rec center to go to gym and waving hello to Gabriel. It was that and the time that he came in with a cake just to apologize that had caused Gabriel to blush (feeling like a dumb 13 year old again) when his mother asked when he was going to take the man on an “actual, proper date.”

The studio lights illuminated the corridor outside through the glass door, and Gabriel took that as his invitation to walk inside, slowly opening the door and searching for Natalie and Michael inside.

He found them right at his feet, surrounded by crumpled tissues and hunched around Natalie’s bright coral phone. The sound of him entering captured Michael’s attention as he craned his head backwards and smiled wide.

“Gabe!” he greeted cheerily, a stark contrast to Natalie’s puffy eyes and frown. “Come, join us, we were just cleaning up dear Natalie’s contacts.”

“What’s going on, Ms. McAllister?” Gabriel inquired, sitting on the other side of her. Gabriel had taken a secret pride in being The Shoulder to Cry On to the rec center staff. He had seen everything- breakups, pet deaths, or just someone spilling their lunch everywhere and bursting into tears because their day was already a mess. He did his job sparingly, but there was nothing better than a shaky smile as someone would say “thanks for listening, Mr. Fields.”

“Natalie’s former honey keeps asking her to take him back even though he was the one who broke it off in the first place,” Michael explained as Natalie continually stared at her phone, more focused than melancholy at that point.

“He’s a jerk,” she sniffed, dragging her eyes from the phone to Gabriel. “And I know, he doesn’t deserve me, but I can’t just-”

“Delete it,” Michael insisted, reaching for her phone, and Natalie jerked it out of his reach.

“Delete what?” Gabe asked.

“His contact. She needs to cut him out completely,” Michael crossed his arms pridefully. “Nothing says “It’s over for good” like “Who is this?? You aren’t in my contacts.””

“Gabriel, help me out here!” Natalie groaned.

“I hate to gang up on you, Ms. McAllister, but Michael might be right. You sure you don’t like him anymore?”

“I- I think so.”

“And leading you on isn’t very kind of him, yes?”

“Yeah…”

“Then I think deleting his contact information might be a good decision,” Gabe said, trying to sway his voice as gentle as he could. Natalie looked at her phone with a new confidence.

“He doesn’t deserve you!” Michael squeezed her shoulder. “If he doesn’t treat you right by now, you’re gone!”

“I’m gone,” Natalie nodded firmly.

“Good! Now go chop his di-”

“Michael,” Gabriel cut in. Michael gave him a sheepish smile over Natalie’s shoulder.

“Want me to do it for you, Nat Cat?” he asked. Nat thought for a moment and nodded, handing him the phone. Michael poked at the buttons for more than a few moments, looking up when he saw Gabriel and Natalie staring at him.

“Ah, sorry, I’m still trying to find the delete button...Aaaand done!” he exclaimed, handing the phone back to Natalie. She cracked a smile.

“I’m...glad. I feel like I just got a weight off my chest,” she admitted.

“Atta girl!” Michael encouraged, shaking her playfully. Natalie laughed and wiped away a few tears.

“We’re very proud of you, Natalie. You make sure you find someone who treats you well,” Gabriel commented. She just nodded appreciatively.

“Oh gosh, I’ve got a little more than ten before the girls start showing up,” Natalie stood, looking at her watch. “Thank you two again for the unplanned therapy session.”

“No problem, Gingersnap. Kristi will see you on Tuesday- either I’ll take her or my delightful brother will. Either way, see you around!” Michael waved at her, opening the door up for Gabriel to walk through, who nodded his head at her with a soft smile.

“Well, I must say, I’m impressed. She’s been having this internal battle over that guy for weeks, now,” Gabriel stuck his hands in pockets as they walked back down the stairs. “And you just solved her problem in what? 15 minutes?”

“What can I say? I’m a people person,” Michael’s eyes swung to the ceiling.

“You took a long time to delete one contact.”

Michael’s easy smile turned forced when he held the front door open for Gabriel.

“Michael…”

“I may have made an addition to her phone contacts in replacement of her awful ex-boyfriend,” he hummed as they strolled to one of the park benches.

“Who’s phone number?” Gabe rubbed his temples with new stress. Michael sat and tapped his knees.

“Well, you see. My brother Stanley sometimes drops Kristi off at dance for me.” “Oh my God.”

“As bewildered as I am by Natalie’s liking to my aloof and antisocial brother over me, the chemistry between them is undeniable as it is disgusting. I may have put in a couple of heart emojis after his name as well.”

“Michael, the poor girl’s messy breakup is no time to play matchmaker.”

“Just you wait, they’ll be all over each other in no time,” Michael hummed dismissively. They sat watching families walk out of the rec center, some of the kids still in their swimsuits from the pool in a moment of tranquil silence, before both men opened their mouths.

“Gabe, I was wondering-”

“I’ve been meaning to ask-”

They froze, looking at each other with wide eyes, and then laughed. Michael put up his hands in surrender.

“You first, you first,” he said, and he swore Gabe’s cheeks turned a little red.

“Well,” the teacher said, folding his hands. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’d like to get dinner sometime this week.”

Michael’s mouth opened and a small squeak came out. Well, he wasn’t expecting that. Gabriel’s face went from sheepish to mortified in a minute, putting up all his defenses.

“I mean! It’s okay if you don’t, I certainly don’t want to be too forward if you don’t...i-if you-” he sputtered, and Michael snatched one of his hands.

“Gabriel,” he laughed a little too loudly. “Gabe. I’d love to get dinner. I was just surprised, ‘cause I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Gabe looked confused for a moment, until a moment of clarity seemed to cross his mind his shoulders relaxed, and he giggled.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah! And you ruined all my fun, thanks a lot,” Michael teased him, sniffing indignantly. In his mind, a crowd roared and champagne bottles were opened in celebration. Gabriel wanted to ask him to dinner.  

“My sincerest apologies, then. Have you ever been to Richter’s out by the country club?” Gabe asked, waving to a young boy in one of his classes, walking into the rec center.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s mediterranean food, if you like that. I haven’t actually… been there, but Google tells me it’s good!”

“Whatever you like is fine by me,” Michael smiled. The worry on Gabe’s face evaporated and he grinned.

“That’s great! I mean, that’s- that’s really great. It’s a date, then?” he beamed at Michael. It was contagious. He smiled back.

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date! Not a visit to Guy Fieri’s house!” Michael whined, digging through his closet. Zadkiel pouted behind him, holding up a tacky Hawaiian shirt Michael had worn once, just once to a costume party.

“What? You wanted my help, didn’t you?” Zad rolled their eyes, shoving the shirt back on the rack.

“I like green, green’s an alright color, right?” Michael held up a forest green polo, trying to make himself believe that the color was remotely acceptable with his skin tone. Zadkiel took one look at it and raised an eyebrow. Michael put it back. “Fine! How nice is Richter’s, anyways?”

“Hmm. Google says “casual neat.””

“That’s specific.”

“Think like, you’re visiting Grandma’s house but her neighbor is cute,” Zadkiel said thoughtfully.

“That’s even more specific!” he cried, but dug through his closet nonetheless. After some digging, he pulled out a few shirts, piecing them together until his brain liked what it saw. “I think I’m onto something here,” he grinned. Shoving Zadkiel out of his room, he threw on the outfit and tossed open the door dramatically. Zad stood against the wall and blinked, mildly impressed.

“That’s the one,” they said, and Michael agreed. Admiring the ensemble in the mirror, Michael felt proud of himself. A simple pair of khakis, a short-sleeved, and blue button up shirt. Michael felt glowing.

“Blue’s my color,” he decided. “What time is it, Zad?”

“5:47.” “Time to roll out.”

“I’m surprised you might actually be on time,” they shrugged as Michael squeezed past them and kneeled down, pulling on his boots.

“Implying that punctuality is an issue with me?” Michael inquired, yanking his laces tight. Zadkiel scoffed, leaning against the wall.

“I can think of a number of dates where you got there an hour later than planned.”

“It was a mistake! I had misread! I-” Michael dug out his phone and very quickly read the text from Gabriel, just to be sure. He put it away and jabbed an accusatory finger at Zad. “Do not distract me. I have a date to catch.”

“Have fun, Romeo,” they waved as Michael threw on his jacket and rushed for the door.

“Don’t leave my door unlocked!” he called over his shoulder as he closed the front door behind him and fast-walked through the apartment halls and down the stairs.

Michael must’ve checked his hair ten times in the mirror while he drove to Richter’s, trying to make sure it had that perfect wave that his previous girl and boyfriends always seemed to like. Yeah, he knew about Richter’s. It was a place he recalled several of his coworkers at the health center getting dinner at while Michael went home on his own or to Kristi’s house. Fine by him. Sometimes he preferred the little girl’s company to the people he worked with. It was like work followed them everywhere, the way they talked and talked about the magic of exercise and kale. There were a million more interesting topics in the world to talk about, and Michael had been through a million and one with Kristi.

Okay, less than a million, she didn’t understand taxes at all.

Michael also knew that a part of his excitement was from just going out at all on the weekends. Sure, he had Zadkiel and Stan, but they were his siblings. They had seen him naked and when he had braces and they just knew way too much. Besides, Michael frowned, he could only talk to Stan for so long before both of them ended up angry. That was the catch with patching a relationship back together. There were some scabs from Stan’s later days of high school that threatened to come back open when they got to sensitive subjects.

He shook away the thought as his car pulled into the Richter’s parking lot, silently congratulating himself, as he was three minutes early. Parking his car by the front, Michael admired the lights strung up around the front of the restaurant as he walked to the door. Gabe had chosen a good place.

Speak of the devil, the man himself was standing by the door when Michael stepped inside, and had a good moment to admire him. Gabriel’s hair was combed back, with the same lock of hair dangling in his face. He had overdressed, as Michael had come to expect, with a striped button up shirt under a grey sweater and slacks. His distracted expression focused when Michael walked in, and he broke into a smile.

“You beat me here,” Michael said before Gabriel could open his mouth. “I hate being beat.”

“I always have to be extra early, it’s something that comes in handy when you’re a teacher,” Gabriel said, mild surprise in his voice as the waitress lead them to a table by huge windows.

“I’m joking,” Michael snorted. Well, phooey. He was gonna have to break his habits of being fashionably late if they went on another date.

“Can I start y’all off with something to drink?” the waitress asked, her southern accent betraying the restaurant's mediterranean theme.

“I’ll have a strawberry lemonade,” Michael answered.

“Coffee, please,” Gabriel smiled kindly at the waitress. When she left, Michael gave him a quizzical look.

“Coffee? At six in the evening?”

He flushed, huffing defensively, “I like coffee! I don’t give you grief for ordering strawberry lemonade.”

“If any place has it, I get it,” Michael insisted, pausing. “Wait- you’ve had it before, haven’t you?” Gabriel shook his head, and Michael balked. “That’s a sin, Gabriel.”

“Is not having strawberry lemonade a deal breaker for you, then?” Gabe joked.

“Yes!”

“Oh my goodness,” Gabriel stuck his face promptly in his hands as Michael stopped their waitress and requested a second strawberry lemonade, smiling victoriously back at Gabriel. He would convert a nonbeliever to the magic of insanely sugary drinks. This date was going well.

“Drink and believe, Gabriel,” Michael pushed the glass towards him, little yellow umbrella sticking out the edge. His date finally caved, and picking up the glass, took a sip while Michael waited with baited breath.

“It’s sickeningly sweet,” Gabe commented, his neutral expression unchanging.

“Well, no wonder! You drink too much coffee is all,” Michael concluded and Gabriel hummed speculatively. That was no problem. If Gabe stuck around, he’d be consuming a lot of sweet drinks.

“If you worked around twenty four year olds for hours, you would too,” Gabe snorted, taking another sip of his drink.

“One is quite enough for me,” Michael smiled. “Unless you count my sibling in college. They’re basically a four year old who carries a knife.”

“I can’t imagine having siblings, and especially not knife wielding ones.”

“Oh, so you’re an only child?”

“Yes, it was just my mother and I growing up,” Gabriel smiled. “I got all the toys to myself.”

“And all of the attention, too,” Michael mused.

“Yes, all of the attention,” Gabe said, a blush creeping back on his cheeks. “I’m my mother’s number one.” “She sounds like a sweet mother.” “She really is,” Gabriel’s smile turned sad. “She was there for me when I was widowed, and has been helping me raise Chamuel ever since.”

The gears in Michael’s brain clicked into place as he almost dropped his drink. Of all the possibilities he had exercised, the idea that Gabriel had been widowed-

“We all ready to order here?” the waitress’ voice sounded like jingle bells, and Michael snapped to attention, trying to form words as Gabriel ordered some kind of sandwich. Michael feebly gave her his order, distracted as she took the menus away, and cleared his throat.

“I uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Really, it’s okay,” Gabriel stopped him before he could start, smile sheepish. “She died about five years ago. Chamuel and I moved to be closer to my mother, and we’ve been a trio ever since.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief as Gabriel, gracious Gabriel, recovered the conversation and went into details about his mother spoiling Chamuel “until her whole mouth is filled with cavities and she forgets her manners”.

“If only my little brother had been raised with those,” Michael smirked, and Gabriel laughed like he’d been raised beside Stan too. Michael couldn’t hold back an amused smile. The dinner was flavorful, and Richter’s was somewhere he’d certainly come back to, but Gabriel’s company made Michael never want to return the restaurant alone again. Strawberry lemonade, he had found, was much sweeter when there was someone to share it with.

“I think teaching old people yoga is a lot more entertaining than troubled teenagers, if I’m honest,” Michael explained, waving his fork around subconsciously. “Often, they fall asleep.”

“What do you do then? Do you wake them up yourself?” Gabriel pondered.

Michael shook his head, “I figured if they’re that relaxed, I’m doing something right. They typically wake themselves up after a few moments. What gets me is the positions they fall asleep in.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. We’re talking full pretzel-mode. And they’re out like a light!”

“They don’t hurt themselves, do they?”

“No,” Michael snickered. “You can count on the teenagers to get themselves hurt during yoga. Kristi is better than half of them.”

Gabriel smiled, “You teach her too then?”

Michael pulled out his phone and quickly went to his photos, finding the one with Kristi balanced in a handstand and showed it to Gabriel.

“I spend so much time at her house, I eventually run out of things to do,” Michael pushed his phone back in his pocket.

There’s one hobby that’s great for passing the time, you know,” Gabe hummed, trying to be subtle. What mattered was the poor man tried.

“I don’t own any yarn, Gabe. Or needles.”

“You can have mine.”

“You really are determined to get me to knit, aren’t you?” Michael laughed incredulously. Gabriel nodded, looking very sure of himself. There was no way Michael was getting out of that, that was for sure. He shook his head. “Alright, alright, I promise I’ll consider it.”

“Good enough for me.”

The two finished their dishes and sat for a while, chatting about the perks and downfalls of looking after kids all the time and the weather and what they did for fun in high school and how much a year’s worth of strawberry lemonade from Costco would cost. Gabriel loved the kindness in children, but the screaming drove him a bit nutty. Gabriel didn’t always live in the southwest but he loved the heat. Gabriel played trumpet in high school and was the valedictorian and thought the price for that much lemonade was far more than necessary.

Michael decided that he liked watching the sun from the window hit Gabriel’s eyes and the way his mouth twitched a smile whenever Michael told a corny joke- like he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to encourage him.

Michael paid for the bill before Gabriel could even see it  (making a note to himself to check for more places with strawberry lemonade), and the pair left the restaurant with full stomachs and hearts.

Arizona in the evening was something Michael would never really get used to- except when it was smolderingly hot. Golden rays of sun ran over the mountains on the horizon and spilled down on their ever-growing suburban town. Not too bright to blind, but enough to give the illusion of an eternal summer. It was comfortably warm, perfect for Michael. He loved his little heaven, how the weather seemed to bend to his wishes and how the wind blew just enough to push people like Gabriel in his direction.

“Thank you for meeting me here. I would’ve never actually gone to a little place like this on my own,” Gabriel glanced back at the fairy lights in the window, a smile curling in his cheek as they made their way for the parking lot. “I probably would’ve kept visiting the same three restaurants I always do out of habit.”

“Well, I am more than happy to be your sense of adventure,” Michael, mindlessly swinging his arms. “Be sure to let me know if you’re ever feeling adventurous again, ‘kay?” He added a wink for good measure. Gabriel snorted.

“Sure thing, Michael. You have a good night,” he held eye contact with Michael for just a moment more before turning towards the park and walking off, Michael still waving with what was probably a big, stupid grin on his face.

He got in his car and turned the ignition, still grinning, and drove all the way back to his apartment complex before realizing that he hadn’t bothered with the air conditioning or radio, and was sweating in his nice shirt.

He fumbled with the keys and popped open the door to his apartment, making a note to himself to get into something that didn’t smell like Mediterranean and sweat, and found Zad waiting for him, on the phone.

“Yeah he just got home and- oh my god Raph he got laid. He’s covered in sweat.”

Michael’s eyes bugged out a bit. “Wh- I did not!”

“Raph is now lecturing you about sleeping with strangers and STD’s and- Raph, he can’t hear you! I’ll put you on speaker,” Zad rolled their eyes.

“No, don’t! I didn’t get laid. Raph I didn’t get laid!” Michael yelled at the phone, groaning as he made a beeline for his bedroom, ignoring Zadkiel’s cackling.

He put on a fresh T-shirt and rinsed his face at the sink with a happy sigh, when he heard his phone buzz on his bed. Perking up, Michael almost ran to the phone, chest filling with delight.

“Texting so soon, Gabriel?” he laughed to himself, before seeing the notification and pouting, almost disappointed.

[6:17] Mr. Lange: Called to a meeting tonight. Can u come over and watch her?

That was the Langes, Michael thought, tapping out a response. Always gone. He’d bring Mac n Cheese and drive over to their house in an hour.

Until then, he’d just lie with Zad and torture them with excruciatingly detailed accounts of Gabriel’s physical attributes. Michael smiled. Revenge was sweet.

[jiayxng-blog]

Have Mercy || SWP || Jiaying & Zadkiel

@ofvioletflames

Jiaying felt a little uneasy about leaving Grimsby behind. The Bloodhawks showed no signs of their retreat as there seemed to be a considerable lack of information about the Queen Mother’s whereabouts. She was certainly not in Grimsby, and Jiaying doubted anyone there knew anything about it. She had tried to find some information herself before leaving, looking for something to make a compromise; information in exchange for leaving them alone, fewer guards, or anything to make the situation a little bit more bearable. The quest had not been particularly fruitful and she was running out of time, besides. The Anshega beta’s sword was an urgent matter. 

She did believe she was not being entirely irresponsible, however - several days had passed and she had monitored it all closely. Her influence did not reach far without information nor time while still wanting to remain hidden. Reminding the Hand’s members of precautions and discretion, she wanted to press on with the planned missions regardless. Their business could not simply cease when the Bloodhawks were stationed there for an unknown amount of time, after all. She supposed it meant she had to go on with her own plans as well. She would not be gone for long, or so she hoped. 

She had ridden for hours when she came to halt. Her horse needed a well-deserved break, and she needed to get off the horseback for a little while. There was a small riverbed near the road and let her horse drink.

There was a feeling of being watched. The woods were thick at this part of the road and one never knew what lurked in the woods. She could hear footsteps, muffled by the earth but awfully close; when she turned, she was faced with a man, a blade at the ready. He seemed almost surprised by her turning around, and she noticed his eyes quickly turn from her belt to her face as she did. What, a stray thief looking for loot? How awfully ironic. She was quick to draw her own twin blades. 

It seemed panic took hold of him, or perhaps he was used to merchants with no experience in combat at all; he lunged forward, and she stepped out of the blade’s reach, answering by knocking him in the back of his head with the flat of her own. It seemed to stun him long enough to push him to the ground, pointing the blade to his throat.

She could see the fear in his eyes, and offered him nothing more than a snort. “Fuck off.” With a little kick to his side, he was quickly off the ground, hurrying away from her and her horse. She put her blade back into its sheath. Idiot. 

Her eyes scanned the surroundings - even with the fool gone, she could not shake off the feeling of being watched.

[fragmentedink-archived]

i need yall to know that when Zad and his mom got away from his abusive dad Mei got her own lil apartment close to her kid and likes to make him grilled cheese and soup and they play checkers together

[avoidingcertaindoom]

OC Questions Tag

Thanks to @romances-not-tragedies for the tag! I'm gonna go with Zadkiel from my Immortal Coil project, he doesn't get nearly enough love

5 words to physically describe your OC:

Tall (to point of alarm), tan, scarred, awkward, long

Who inspired your OC?:

Literally I mashed together the personality of two of my closest friends at the time and dialed it up to 111. He's intended to give off the vibe that he's so overwhelmingly dramatic and silly that any of the intimidation from his height is forgotten, as well as so loud and extra that ignoring him is a challenge.

Give me a song to define your OC:

A Queda by Gloria Groove? I discovered it by accident but it really does display the right amount of attention seeking and self deprecatory behaviour and suits him remarkably.

If I met your OC on the street, how would they greet me?:

He would mistake me for his friend Arty (long story) and probably ask who's with the dog back home.

(No one is. Everyone thought they settled it with someone else)

Can your OC be your best friend? Why?:

Absolutely. He's so much to deal with but he's really ride or die in the end and I know he'd be there for me.

1 adjective and 1 noun to describe your OC:

Theatrical slag

Tagging; @afusiek @mitchell-nihil @owlsandwich @skyderman and feel free to consider this an open tag!

[oh-atlas]

I do not have a title for this but I couldn’t resist writing it either so, accept some dialogue from last night’s oneshot that k.o.’d me 

"But you didn't like him, did you?" Anfisa blurts out.

Zadkiel shifts, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. She thinks of nights with him. Sleeping on opposite corners of their bed. The way her skin prickled when he wrapped an arm around her. His chastising tone. The way he treated her at parties, just a body to hang off his arm. She thought of the rage she swallowed like bile and the comment he made right before she took a vase and smashed it across his skull. They only take your opinion seriously because you're married to me. 

She thinks of nights at her office, pouring over stacks of research and documents regarding motions the Circle intended to pass. Anfisa pouring tea, staying with her until two in the morning. Until they were both bleary-eyed and barely capable of debating the moves they intended to make. Until Anfisa fell asleep, and Zadkiel shed her shawl to place over her. Until she'd rather suffer a night of sleeplessness and wear the same rumpled clothes in the morning than go home and face General Markus Keyes. 

"He was my husband." She insists weakly. 

"Did you love him?" The words hang as if Anfisa has always known.

Zadkiel looks at her. The familiar face of her companion for over five years. She never thought that Anfisa could be so bold. Fearless. Reckless enough to steal her from her own execution on the steps of the Sola Cathedral. She feels more when looking at her than she ever did with anyone else. A warm sensation of calm and commitment built from years of working together. She would rather spend a life trapped in her study, pouring over books with Anfisa than a life free with anyone else. The words begin to rise, about to bubble and pour from her lips if she looks at her any longer. Zadkiel averts her eyes and says nothing. 

[oh-atlas]

also thinking about zadkiel’s arc and like. where pcs would meet her.

she’s been the young prodigal speaker who married to increase her family’s public image, wishing so badly to actually cultivate a relationship with her husband. 

she’s endured a decade of his shit and abuse and continued to do her job excellently until she reached her breaking point

assumed and accepted her punishment and death but they was saved from it by her little cousins, her assistant, and some other fuckos

was completely uprooted, no longer connected to the divine like she once was, restarted a small life alone as a launderer for an inn, still curious about the tangled web of secret that exists in cornelia.

and the idea that a party of adventurers finding her and just, any that would have even known her, seeing how different she looks without the influence of an angel, without all the fancy clothing. still just as caring for the wellbeing of her nation but needing to know what went wrong, what the truth below the surface is. 

[fragmentedink-archived]

Next Gen OCs: Zadkiel before and after

'Cause I remember all the times I tried so hard And you laughed in my face 'cause you held all the cards And I really ain't bothered what you think of me 'Cause all I want of you is just a let me b e

[oh-atlas]

12 19 and 24 for Zakiel if youre still doing these :3

what are their common gestures or physical tics?

zadkiel has a habit of clasping her hands, brushing back strands of her hair, and sort of, slowly zoning out and looking upwards when she’s listening to clio. she also subconciously shakes herhead whenever she disagrees with something someone’s said. 

date look

*slams hands on the table* zadkiel with her hair down, long and loose and golden in the light with some delicate earrings. a tan pleated skirt and a white band collared shirt, leather flats. Still a bit formal but, much more comfortable and less ornamental than the attire she wears to work.

pajamas

just a simple linen shift!

physical characteristics meme!