#madwife fic

[sausagesquirrel]

Fast As You Can (click to read on AO3)

by revenant_oozi

"So… yeah. I’m carrying the baby of my best friend who isn’t speaking to me and her husband I was cheating on my husband with. And I’m just here, I guess, trying to figure all that out.”

After her husband & lover die in an accident, Laura agrees to be Audrey's surrogate and then things get worse.

Meanwhile, Laura strikes up a friendship with someone she thinks might be a bigger jerk than her.

A series of bad decisions as time ticks by.

[more-magpiie]

I am horrible at committing to fics (shock horror) but Febuwhump is coming up and I really feel compelled to Hurt Marc Spector? and maybe steven grant and sure y'know me there might be some madwife and whatever else I feel like writing in the moment

and I've already written something for a couple prompts so at least I'll post something but. idk. if anyone would be interested.

🤷‍♀️ anyway.

[theblackestfrost]

This bad boy is finally finished. Must not take on more giant multi chaps.

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale [Completed] 1/1

Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. {5,432 words}

Rest In Peace [Completed] 20/20 +1

How they got that ending. {37,257 words}

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10 11. 12 13 14 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20 +1

A/N: Just a little post to keep everything in one place. I’ll probably be posting within the week. Just waiting on a few things. Thanks for waiting xxx

[sansbanshees]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: American Gods (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney, Laura Moon/Shadow Moon (mentioned) - Relationship Characters: Laura Moon, Mad Sweeney (American Gods) Additional Tags: spoilers for season 2 episode 5, laura you are such a goddamn mess, Body Horror, but that's pretty typical for laura isn't it, emotional tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, tiny bit of pining if you squint Summary:

Maybe they’re more alike than she thought. Maybe they both want things they’ll never have. And he won’t get his, not ever, she’s far too selfish to give it to him now that her every hope has been dashed to fucking pieces.

(immediately following ep 2x05)

[bengalaas]

And the Sun Rises Over the Ruin

Delicate fairy tales with a true love’s kiss have no place among gods and monsters, and no place among the dead either. It’s in castrated fairy tales, watered down to a false shine, that cunning people cheat the god of death and live until they grow bored of it. In fairy tales told around a fire that's the only thing keeping you from perishing right then and there, the god of death looks upon you with pity and declares that nothingness awaits you. And then offers to close your eyes.

Shameless reminder of this translation from last year, because I'm still in love with this series <3

Translation of KatrinaKeynes’ “И солнце встаёт над руинами”. Read in English on AO3 HERE (1800 words)

[kirkypet]

Fic ideas from the American Gods Book Club Discord server

FREE TO USE

Prompt 3 - Dinner at Laura’s mum’s house

[birdinky-blog]

Motels, Diner Talks and Stars (Madwife one shot)

The entire day had been spent on the road.

Despite the urgency of their journey, Sweeney had insisted on stopping somewhere for the night. “Even gods need to take breaks, ” he had said, exiting off the highway. Obviously, Laura wasn’t happy about this sudden change of pace. Sweeney pulled into the parking lot of dingy little Motel 6 that had been advertised on every sign for the past 15 miles. She stayed outside while he went to talk to the receptionist with a couple of crumpled up 20 dollar bills.  Laura smoked a tasteless cigarette and rested against the hood of the stolen automobile; she watched Shadow’s light disappear into the distance leaving her world -yet again- dark.

The diner across the road from the motel was bright, warm and smelled of everything Laura would have wanted if she was hungry, or alive. Sweeney busts in and picks a booth right next to the large window looking out to the road and the motel, behind him Laura follows him like a ghost (which would not be too far from the truth). The place was just like the ones she remembered visiting as a kid, with walls covered in American memorabilia, even  an old fashioned pinball machine sits in the corner. Fuck, being dead sucked. She could tell the room was probably full of color with all the hanging Americana posters and neon lights, but her eyesight was failing her more and more each day she remained a decaying dead girl. She wonders if everyone can smell her rotting self, mixed with the Febreze she sprays herself down with before entering enclosed spaces- Sweeney always had a good laugh about this little fact.   

The waitress that serves them matches the restaurant’s look, with a little blue dress and white apron and hair tossed up in a clumsy bun. She’s young and pretty, the kind of pretty that gets sucked right out of you after getting married to some small town asshole and pushing out a few kids. But for right now she’s young and pretty and rushing around the space with a notepad. “What can i get y'all?” She says when she finally reaches their table. Sweeney, who had been looking through the rather large menu sitting on the table, looks up and gives a cheeky smile obviously now noticing the girl.

“I'll take your burger and fries darlin,” he says and gives her a wink. The girl’s fair face turns a lovely shade of red and Laura’s eyes roll so far back they might as well have gotten stuck there. The waitress fills up their glasses with water and quickly rushes to help the next table.

“Do you always have to be so fucking gross?”  Laura snarls.

“Wow, someone really thinks they have room to talk about what's gross?” Sweeney gestures towards her abdomen, where her stitches were mostly undone underneath her jacket, exposing more rotting pieces of her. She rolls her eyes again. “Beside what’s wrong with a little flirting?” Sweeney says as he pulls out a rolled cigarette from behind his ear and lights it.

She looks away from him and turns her gaze at the waitress again. Laura use to be pretty like that, perky tits- alive. She wondered how revolting she looked now, and how obvious it was that she was dead and slowly turning to mush. She never saw herself as the type to get self conscious, she was beautiful in life and she always knew it, because that's what she had been told.  

Flash to her mom brushing her hair when she’s just a girl, her mother telling her how pretty she was. Flash to her friends being jealous of her, hating her because all the boys loved Laura.

“Oi!” Sweeney says his large hand snapping in front of her face, “someone’s gonna think you’re really dead if you keep staring off like that dead wife.”

She blinks a couple times, “We shouldn’t have stopped,” Laura suddenly says “Shadow is somewhere out there with god knows who and we’re fucking around getting food. He could be dead!”

“Wednesday wouldn’t allow that, at least not yet,” Sweeney says somewhat seriously. The diner becomes silent for a second, and for that still moment Laura wants to cry. She wants to cry like a little girl in her mom's lap, hard sobbing, but her tear ducts rotted away days ago and crying in front of Mad Sweeney was the last thing she wanted to do anyway. She had been so close to Shadow, so close to getting back what was rightfully hers. Her Husband. She thinks about what Sweeney had said before Shadow had been abducted.

Hurts when someone takes what's yours, doesn’t it?

“Why wouldn’t Wednesday let you into that god meeting or whatever?” Laura asks, unsure if she should be bringing something like this up, “aren't you like a god too?”

Sweeney looks up, surprised at her sudden interest in things surrounding the topic of gods. He takes another drag from his cigarette, “let's just say the others don’t necessarily feel I’m like them,” he looks out the window and lets out a deep breath, “people use to fear me and want my favor, because I was the final factor that decided their fortune.” He drops the cigarette in Laura’s untouched water, “Long story short the children of those people decide they don’t need luck or don’t want to put out some milk and bread for a fellow and before you know it, they forget,” he pauses and meets Laura’s eyes, “and you change with them.” There’s a hidden sadness in his voice, something deeply rooted in his soul, even Laura can’t help but notice it.  

For some reason she feels like there is more than what Sweeney is letting on, but she mulls over the information she’s given, and for once, actually tries to understand the leprechaun. Although it is hard for her to think of him as some ancient god and not her drunk murderer. He looked no older than his mid to late 30’s but it was his eye’s that gave it away, the eyes of someone who has seen too much.        

“When I was a girl I used to believe in all kinds of things,” Laura says suddenly, feeling something rising in her chest, “I use to carry around this journal, I brought it everywhere with me and I filled each page with all kinds of creatures and monsters I made up in my head,” why was she telling him this? “I was convinced they lived in my backyard.” She had been avoiding Sweeney’s eyes, but when she finally looks up, expecting a laugh or tease, she finds him intently focused on what she is saying. Laura quickly looks out the window and fiddles with a loose string attached to her jacket, trying her best to not let his burning gaze get to her.

“What happened to that girl?” He asks. His voice low.

“She grew up.” Laura says sternly. “She went to college and worked in a job she hated and let her life swallow her whole, because that's all life is in the end.”

The waitress eventually drops off Sweeney’s order and the two sit silently as he munches away at his burger and fries. They pay and head back to the motel still not sharing anymore words. The conversation they had at the diner was different than anything they've talked about before, and Laura wasn’t sure how to feel about it. When the pair get to their room, Sweeney immediately goes to the bathroom and takes a shower. Laura, not needing to rest, sits on the a small sofa next to the one window in the room and lights one of Sweeney’s rolled cigarettes.

She thinks about Shadow, and how far away he might be and how dark the sky looked. Then she thinks about the way Sweeney looked at the waitress. She thinks about the way he smirked and (for some reason) she wonders if he could ever look at her that way. Laura shakes the thought away and chuckles to himself, maybe she did need some type of rest.

Mad Sweeney eventually finishes his shower and lays in one of the beds, his giant frame taking over the mattress. In the silent room all that can be heard is the gentle rumble of the old fashioned heater, Sweeney’s breathing and Laura’s absence of breath.

“Ginger Minge?” Laura’s voice breaks through the silence.

“Hm?” He answers.

“If you need someone to believe in you… well I believe in you if that makes any difference.” The words seem to tumble out of her, unexpected and terrifying. Her belief in him hangs in the air and for a moment Laura assumes he must have fallen asleep. But just when she is about to turn back towards the window to finish her smoke, a voice emerges from the bed.

“Thank you Laura.”

There’s something about hearing her name that rattles every dead cell in her body. She had never heard her name leave his lips before. For a while she was convinced maybe he just didn’t know her real name. She suddenly gets that urge again to start sobbing, but instead she finishes her smoke and turns off the lamp beside her, filling the room with darkness. She listens to the steady, slow breaths of a sleeping Sweeney and watches the sky and she notices that with the absence of Shadow’s light, she could see the stars.  

[albion19]

Tell me the one fic you associate with my username. In exchange, I’ll tell you a secret about that story.

Why not?

[cassatine]

eat your heart out (don’t you mind the maggots) | ao3

For a sideplot filled with physical comedy, it’s got all the building blocks of a tragedy (one immortal being, one murdered woman, blood and guilt and something something unrequited, and smack in the middle of that mess, the McGuffin they both need). Still, Mad Sweeney could just as easily make a joke out of it: an asshole zombie and an angry leprechaun walk into a bar. The leprechaun orders a bloody mary, and the zombie throws it in his face. Then he slips on a banana peel, and falls on a rake.

… He never said it would be a funny joke.

[sausagesquirrel]

Painting by Jessica Shirley http://jessicashirley.blogspot.co.uk/2011/03/selkie-girl.html

Sculpture: https://pantovola.com/portfolio/the-selkie-the-bird/

I can’t find the credit for the Celtic knots selkie

[more-magpiie]

Laura ties Sweeney up bc she likes to be in control but he’s a little brat and refuses to cooperate

Like this?

It’s familiar to him now, waking up to her warmth and weight. Usually she’s curled up under his arm, or snuggling into his back. This morning he’s pleasantly surprised to find her straddling his hips and leaning over him to gently rouse him with little kisses over his jaw and neck. With a comfortable purr low in his throat, he moves to wrap his arms around her and pull her closer - that’s when he discovers that he’s bound at the wrists, arms tied over his head to the metal bedframe behind him.

He glances up to where a rope is knotted around his arms, recognises it as one that had been sitting in the trunk of the car he boosted for them a couple of days ago, then looks back at her with a scowl. Sneaky bitch.

Laura sits back, grinning down at him with mischievous glee, thoroughly enjoying his petulant little frown. "C'mon,“ he complains, rolling his hips up into her, and she giggles and shuffles forwards so that he can only buck up into thin air. "C'mon what?” She pouts, ghosts her fingertips over his lips. “I liked being the one in charge. You’re as strong as me now. It’s not fair.” "That is the definition of fair.“ He considers arguing her on the assertion that she had ever been in charge of him but hell, she’s right. Her fingers trail down to his bare chest and pinch at his nipple until he squirms beneath her. "Stop it.” There’s a warning edge in his voice that sends a jolt of desire right through her. "Or what?“ she smirks, dipping her head to nip and suck at the sensitive little patch of skin just under his ear. Under her lips she feels the movement of his throat as he swallows, trying to hide the way his breathing speeds up. He turns his head to kiss her and she moves away, grins down at him with her knees on either side of his broad chest. “I’m glad one of us is having fun,” he mutters bitterly, and she feigns shock for a moment before clambering off him and sliding a hand down under the elastic of his boxers. His cock is already hard and warm and he bucks into her slightest touch.

 “Seems like you’re having fun to me.” She watches his face as she jerks him a couple of times - eyes closed, jaw tight, brows creased in frustration. When she pulls her hand away his gaze snaps to her immediately, and he watches impatiently as she strips off the vest and panties she’d worn to sleep before climbing on top of him. “Gonna be good?” “Hurry up,” he groans, grinding up against her. He’s rewarded with a swift smack on the chest. “Ow, fuck!” “Are you?” she asks again, raising her eyebrows. “I hate this game. I’m a grown fuckin’ man.” He glowers at her sulkily. She folds her arms. He shifts his arms uncomfortably in his restraints, then mutters, “Fine.”

 “Good,” she murmurs, suddenly all soft and sweet again, leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips before reaching between them and sliding down on his cock. Immediately, he’s panting and twitching with the desperate desire to fuck her. She takes her time burying him inside her, then slowly begins to roll and grind against him. His eyes rake over her breasts, her hips, all the places he would love to touch, and she runs her hands over every spot. The noises she makes are filthy and breathless, and he’s sure she’s exaggerating just to wind him up, and damnit, it’s working. She rides him with increasing desperation, the facade of control slowly slipping, until she’s tensing around him and her legs are trembling. When he starts thrusting into her she doesn’t argue, just sinks into his chest and keens softly at every movement until he comes with a groan.

The room is still for a moment as they catch their breaths, all sweaty and tangled together.  ”Y’know, I think you enjoyed that in the end,” Laura says eventually, glancing up at him with a little smirk. “You like letting me do all the work?”“Untie me,” he mutters thickly. “Or I could leave you here,” she muses, moving to massage his aching shoulders. “Let some poor cleaning lady find you.” “Very funny. I’m losing feeling in my hands.”

With a dramatic sigh, she pulls herself up to untie the ropes, then yelps as he rolls her onto her back. A stream of giggles escape her as he pins her down, trails rough kisses down her neck and over her chest. Then he slips a hand between her legs, and her laughter begins to stumble over little gasps and whines.  “Did you think you were gonna get away with that?”

[wmhalliwell]

The Great Resurrection of Laura Moon (30656 words) by theredhoodie Chapters: 3/3 (COMPLETE) Fandom: American Gods (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney Characters: Mad Sweeney, Laura Moon, Mr. Ibis, Mr. Jacquel, Mr. Wednesday, Shadow Moon, Salim Additional Tags: What-If, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary: This was a bad, shitty thing, that it would lead her down roads she should not go, and all the shit she’d done was bound to catch up with her, but fuck.

She was alive. She’d take it.

[theblackestfrost]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: American Gods (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney, Baron Samedi/Maman Brigitte Characters: Maman Brigitte (American Gods), Baron Samedi (American Gods) Additional Tags: SPOILERS S3 E1, But also that was dumb, So lets fix it Summary:

Maman Brigitte watches the Dead Girl leave with her trolley full of Dead God and smiles before reaching into the folds of her skirt and pulling out her phone.

“It’s done.”

Her husband huffs, likely moving crates of beer as he speaks.

“She bought it?”

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count:  5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions  apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

+

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

+

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw. 

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

+

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

+

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

+

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

+

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

+

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

+

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

[theseventhveil1945]

madwife fic rec

these roads will take you into your own country by notbecauseofvictories

Here’s a joke for you: a Muslim, a zombie, and a leprechaun walk into a bar in Misery, Indiana. No one stares, because no one in the puckered, shitty asshole of Misery, Indiana gives a fuck. The Colts are playing.

“Fucking new gods,” the leprechaun mutters, hunching his shoulders almost up to his ears. “Gridiron and Pepsi commercials.”

…or, Mad Sweeney, Laura Moon, and Salim-not-Salim get stuck on the road trip from hell. Urban legends, necrophilia, and the Midwest ensue.