#protect your peace is why we’re in this right wing hell hole that were in and why so called irrelevant random groups of men can embolden

[uniteds]

You're taking it so closely to your heart whatever these random group of men are doing is not relevant even if they wore the jacket it's an empty gesture who cares it's the most corrupt sport nobody has a spine there. Protect your peace

no! it IS an empty gesture but the global right wing fascism creep is a very real problem and the reason the problem exists is that we keep dismissing conversations as pointless. you can’t say that something is the most corrupt sport (and has political sway) and then also say that the people involved in the most corrupt sport are a random group of men and their actions are irrelevant. how does that work?

[cyberneticlagomorph]

// Take the opportunity to write a short ramble/drabble about something you want to write about. 👈🏼

I have... so many drabbles in my drafts..

I would love to finish one someday

Here's a drabble from early October that I never finished

--------------------------------

It's warm today, 80 degrees and sunny. The occasional cotton puff cloud scuds across the sun and dims the world for a few moments.

You peer up at it from behind dark shades, the rattle of your truck unsettling your stomach nearly as much as the apprehension slithering it's way up your spine.

Father Ward sits in the passenger seat beside you, clutching a crucifix to his chest, head bowed in prayer.

He insisted on coming with after you asked him to bless your tools for the upcoming ordeal... it's the least you can do to give the man some peace of mind.

The roads this far out of the city are damn near deserted, home to empty eyed cattle grazing in silence, and a vast sea of ripe crops yet to be harvested.

You feel watched.

Not by the cows, not by the crops, or the bifurcated crows that stubbornly sit on the dusty earth before the rusty behemoth of your pickup.

The field feels hungry.

That's what your client said when he called you late last night, and now you understand what he meant.

The wind rustles the rows and you catch a glimpse of something standing between the stalks, but the corn straightens up again and you lose sight of it.

You shudder and Father Ward looks up from his prayers in concern.

"We're here." You say, a little more cheerfully than the situation really calls for, and pull into the makeshift parking lot at the mouth of the farm.

An archway made of hay bales and pumpkins looms high over a dirt path leading farther inwards; it's covered in signs advertising hayrides, apple picking, a petting zoo and fresh cider.

You mutter something about 'kitschy bullshit', and get out of the truck. Father Ward, John... his first name is John, follows you at a distance. He's got a limp, from an earlier incident, years before you met him. He doesn't like to talk about it.

You slow your pace and let the priest catch up, he thanks you with a nod and you continue on your way.

The farm might have been beautiful once, one of those places you see in commercials and hallmark movies, but now it's just deserted and eerie.

A man in stereotypical farmer dress sits on a hay bale in front of an old fashioned red barn, his head in his hands. He's weeping maybe, or praying, you can't tell, but his distress is palpable.

You take a step towards him and get hit with the smell blood, thick and fresh. A smeared trail of it runs from the barn and into a nearby cornfield, the stalks completely undisturbed. You can hear John start up his prayers again, frantic this time. Crucifix gripped white knuckle.

This is gonna be a long ass day... you can feel it deep in whatever bones you have left, the ones that don't ache 24/7, at least.

Best to get this over with before it gets too dark to see what you're doing.

You clear your throat and startle the man who you assume to be your client, "Excuse me, sir? You called about an issue with your corn fields?"

He looks up at you in confusion, "I-- you're not what I expected w--" a pause, "But you can help me, right?"

You nod and offer a smile, "It's what I'm here for, the priest is my buddy John, he'll be helping me out today."

John extends a hand to shake, and your client hesitantly stands to take it.

"Cory, Cory Simmons, uh-- thank you for coming." He looks exhausted, unsteady, like he hasn't slept in days.

You nod again, peeling off your shades and shoving them into a pocket, "Right, you said that there was something in your field? Are you sure it isn't a coyote or some really cruel kids looking for some spooky satanic fun?"

John gives you a Look that you ignore.

Mr. Simmons' eyebrows knit together in confusion. But before you can answer him, something dark and feathery catches your eye.

You watch a flock of mutated and misshapen crows circle overhead,  as silent as the grave, their wings casting squirming shadows upon the ground. John can see them too.

No time for speculation then.

"I'll get the salt, John, you stay here and... keep Mister Simmons calm." You trot back to the parking lot and feel John's eyes burning holes in your back the entire way.

"Please don't leave me alone with him..." you hear the priest hiss helplessly as you quickly hop out of earshot.

You'll apologize to him later, promise.

The cooler full of salt is carefully rubbed on your hands, your shotgun, and whatever else you think you'll need. John's already blessed the vast majority but it's not gonna hurt to be a little redundant.

The rest of the salt forms a protective circle around John and your confused client.

"Whatever you do, do not break this circle, got it?" All trace of politeness and gentleness is gone from your voice, leaving only cold professionalism.

You wrap your hands in green cloth, and pause as the scents of rosemary and sage wash over you. "These herbs ward off demons and evil spirits," you explain to Mr Simmons, "and so does salt."

The farmer stammers, "What the hell do you think is going on here?? Demons? Satanists? Evil spirits?" His voice is shrill, and afraid, eyes bloodshot from stress and fear, "Tell me what's happening to my farm!"

You look up from your spot on the ground, one boot off and the other halfway there. Your jacket is tossed haphazardly into the now empty cooler along with your shades.

"Your field is possessed by a feral harvest god, aka an Agridivus," a pause as you remove the other boot and toss it into the cooler with its mate,"They feed on the flesh of mortal creatures in order to make plants ripen faster and harvests better, they also drive people insane from sheer proximity which is why you haven't slept in at least a week... you've got divinity burn, and if you hadn't called me you'd be dick deep in some Children of the Corn level cultist bullshit within the next few days." you stand and dust yourself off as the farmer tries to take an angry step forward, but John throws his arm up in front of the guy to keep him from breaking the circle.

You nod at the shotgun next to John's feet and heft a near identical one, "That's full of rock salt, use it if anything gets too close."

Simmons snaps the gun up immediately and cocks it, aiming it at your face.

You don't flinch, your eyes locking with his, "You've only got one shot, make it count."

Simmons trembles, but eventually takes his finger off the trigger and lowers his weapon.

John looks like he might puke, or pass out, or both. You watch him wipe sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robes. He starts to pray and the salt starts to glow.

Your skin sizzles uncomfortably, and you know that that circle will hold so long as Father Ward is in it.

You disappear into the cornfield without a word.

The crows have not stopped circling, their formation now a cyclone of feathers and malice. You can feel their eyes on you.

Beneath your feet, the ground is soft and rich, weeds already springing from the bloody trail of viscera left by the Agridivus' last meal.

You follow it in a more or less straight line, and the world seems to hold its breath.

The farther in you go, the worse things get. Bones sprout from the ground, still clotted with half rotting meat, somehow already choked with plants.

It stinks here, manure, chemical fertilizer, and putrefaction mingling together into a vicious miasma.

Judging by all the bodies, this field has been possessed for much longer than you originally thought... and that explains how raggedy and depressing the rest of the farm is.

You come to a clearing in the center of the field, in it is a rough wooden cross that might have held a scarecrow once, but now there's... nothing. Not even some sun bleached skeleton strung up in a renaissance mockery.

The ground is soft, clean earth, no trace of gore to be found.

The silence is heavier here.

Every breeze a cacophony.

The faint rustling of cornstalks sounds different, sounds wrong... for just a second, and you whirl around just in time to see a dark blur rapidly disappearing further into the fields.

You swear between clenched teeth and bolt after it, ears flat to your head, gun held close to your chest.

The Agridivus is fast, and it knows this field. It knows every leaf, stalk, root, and row like it's a part of itself.

Because the field IS part of itself.

It has home count advantage, but you aren't going to let that stop you.

Round and round and round you go, where you stop, only your prey knows.

There, a glint out of the corner of your eye. You have only half a heartbeat to duck as wickedly sharp claws whizz dangerously close to your face, slicing a thin line across your cheek. The wound immediately starts to itch and burn, blisters forming around the edges.

Iron.

You hiss in pain, teeth bared. Overhead the crows scream in human voices, the tongues of those swallowed by this cursed field. The scent of blood tickles your nose, and even though it's yours, your mouth waters and you know that the beast you're hunting feels the same way.

You snap your teeth at nothing, eyes flicking across the rows, ears swiveling like radar dishes. You're exposed, there's nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, nothing to do but fight.

The cornstalks bend around the beast like waves around a boat, only to stand up straight as if it were never there. You can follow its trail if you try.

[atc74]

A Hundred and Eight Things

Square Filled: De-Aged for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Flannel for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Fem receiving oral sex, smidge o’angst, fluff 

Summary: Dean has a thing for his girl’s bare nether regions but when she gets cursed by a witch, it changes Dean’s perspective about things. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3334 (I almost took out a word so it could be 3333!)

Written for: @spnkinkbingo @spngenrebingo 

Beta’d by: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt, thank you!

A/N: This is set in S8 before the trials and before the angels fell from heaven. Starts with some sexy smut off the bat, but then shit gets real. 

Wonder what Dean smells like? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker for the next level fan experience! 

“I am so glad Sam stayed home,” Y/N moaned as Dean ran his tongue across her jaw.

“Can we not talk about my brother while I am trying to get you naked?” Dean quipped, nipping at the sensitive skin of her throat.

“I am just so happy to have you all to myself,” she replied, pulling his face up to meet hers. “Like so happy I shaved, just for you baby.”

Dean didn’t waste any more time. He shimmied down her body, pulling at her clothes until she was finally bare before him. “God, you know how much I love your fucking bare pussy. So baby smooth. So pretty and perfect…” His fingers trailed down one side and up the other and her hips bucked in response. “So fucking sensitive. So receptive...”

He made himself comfortable between her spread legs like he was at home. And he really was. Dean loved her snatch. He loved fucking it, fingering it. But most of all, Dean loved eating it. He loved eating her out until she screamed his name. Until she couldn’t move. Until she begged him to fuck her.

A single swipe of his tongue from hole to clit had her aching, throbbing for more. She felt the need down to her toes as they curled against the cheap motel bedspread. Dean’s tongue explored her nether regions like no other had before him. He knew what made her tick. He knew what would get her off the quickest. He knew when she needed it fast and dirty and when she wanted it slow and steady. Dean Winchester had ruined her for all other men.

Dean pulled back slightly, his thumbs splitting open her lips and he just stared, admiring the smooth, glistening skin. Sliding his thumbs up, he fully exposed her clit, blowing his breath across it and he watched it twitch with anticipation. He flicked his tongue over it once, twice, then circled it for good measure, knowing she preferred a little more pressure on her right side. Within minutes, she was screaming and everyone in the crappy motel knew his name.

~*~

“Y/N! Watch out!” Dean shouted, taking aim at the witch as Y/N went down. He pulled the trigger, hitting the witch right between the eyes. He checked to make sure she was down for good and rushed to Y/N’s side.

“Sweetheart, you gotta wake up for me, okay?” Dean pulled her into his arms, cradling her body to his. He lightly slapped the side of her face, trying to get her to open her eyes.

She groaned, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked, trying to focus on Dean’s face as it came into view. “What happened?”

“Freaking witches is what happened!” Dean sat next to her on the bed. “You feel okay? I didn’t catch everything she said, but then you were out for the count before I ganked her.”

“Yeah. A little fuzzy, but I feel fine,” she assured him. “Can we go home?”

“Already packed up. Just waiting on your lazy ass to get outta bed,” Dean joked, glad to have his girl back.

The drive home was short with the hunt only a couple hours from the Bunker. Dean eased Baby into her stall in the garage and carried their bags to their room. After a quick shower and supper, they hunkered down in bed with a movie and a mountain of pillows. The end credits rolled as they both softly snored side by side.

~*~

A scream, more like a wail, woke Dean from sleep. He was upright, gun in hand, sweeping the room, but saw nothing a miss in the bedroom, no potential threat. The wailing continued, however, as Dean stepped around the bed and to the door, throwing it open. Sam was rushing down the hall, gun also drawn.

“What the hell is that and where is it coming from?” Dean demanded, his face contorted as the shrillness of it hit his sleep raddled brain.

“It’s coming from your room, Dean,” Sam said, cautiously stepping inside and made his way to the bed.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered as Sam threw back the covers. There, nestled among the pillows Y/N had to have, was a very small, very angry, crying infant in Dean’s favorite Zeppelin tee. Dean handed his weapon over to his brother and picked up the red faced infant, cradling it to his bare chest and the crying ceased, replaced by small whimpers.

“You said Y/N got nailed with the witch’s spell, right?” Sam asked, looking at the baby in his brother’s arms. “I’ll hit the books. Do you remember anything she said before you shot her?”

“Yeah, a few. Let me get dressed and we’ll meet you out there,” Dean told Sam. Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. Dean dressed quickly in sweats and his robe, before grabbing one of his flannels that was her favorite. As he walked out to the library to meet Sam, he called Cas.

“Hey Buddy, we-ah, we need you back here, pronto. But I am going to text you a list of supplies I need you to pick up on the way. Probably Wal-mart or Target, whatever you can find,” Dean informed the angel. “Yeah, long story.”

He shot off a text to Cas before joining his brother. Dean stood on the opposite side of the table form Sam, with Y/N curled into his still bare chest. He covered her backside with the flannel, using it as a makeshift blanket.

“Okay, what do you remember?” Sam looked up at his brother. It was odd, seeing him holding the baby that was now Y/N until they figured it out. But what struck Sam, was how organic it looked. Dean wasn’t freaking out, he was completely calm and looked at peace with her in his arms.

“Infans, nova satus, initium novum, pura anima mea,” Dean recalled as his brother started furiously taking notes.

“Dean, I don’t think it was the witch’s intent to curse Y/N based on what you just repeated. The witch probably thought she was doing her a favor. A fresh start, a pure soul, a new beginning. This sounds like she wanted to give Y/N a new life and not end up a hunter,” Sam looked back up at Dean, his eyes turning soft at the sight.  

“What?” Dean looked back at his brother.

“You just, you just look comfortable, happy even,” Sam theorized. “Do you even realize you are rocking her? Swaying side to side like that?”

Dean looked back down at Y/N asleep on his chest. He had ceased his movement momentarily, but hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. He shrugged and resumed, hoping she would stay asleep until Cas arrived.  

And as if on cue, Dean heard the flutter of wings in the war room. He turned to see Cas with two shopping carts full of supplies. Dean handed Y/N off to Sam and grabbed several bags from the cart, along with the baby detergent and headed down the hall. Sam and Castiel stared after him.

Dean took Y/N back from Sam as she started to stir. He had pulled a diaper out of the pocket of his robe and slipped it under her, quickly covering her tiny bottom with it. He took a seat in one the reading chairs and produced a bottle. He looked down at her and placed the nipple in her mouth. She started eating and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why is Y/N an infant?” Cas questioned.

“Freaking witches,” Dean said, his voice higher than usual as he made faces at the baby while she fed.

“Curse hit her before Dean took out the witch. But it changed her overnight, even after the witch was killed. So now we gotta figure out what we’re dealing with and see if there is a reversal,” Sam explained to Cas.

“And all the things you had me buy?” Castiel looked back to Dean.

“Y/N has needs. It doesn’t matter if she is a grown woman or a baby, it’s my job to fulfill those needs and protect her. Babies need diapers and food and blankets and clothes,” Dean informed the socially awkward angel. He took the now empty bottle and placed it on the small table before placing Y/N over his shoulder. He patted her back a few times when she burped. “Good girl.”

“How does a sound that big come out of something so small?” Sam marveled, still watching his brother and Y/N.

“Uncle Sammy and Uncle Cas don’t know anything about babies, do they?” Dean giggled with her and she smiled up at him. “Someone needs a diaper change.” He rose and walked over to the carts yet to be unloaded. He rifled through the bags with one hand until he found what he needed then returned to the library, laying Y/N down on her back.

Dean Winchester was one of the most fierce and feared men in the supernatural world. Monsters ran from Dean Winchester. Sam observed his brother, shirtless and in his dead guy robe, leaning over the table and making the most ridiculous faces and noises at a baby. And she was loving it, her tiny giggles filled the cavernous space with a light that hadn’t been there before. Sam laughed in spite of himself and the situation.

Sam had helped Dean setup the portable crib in his room along with a baby monitor. Dean made coffee and they hit the books again. They called everyone they knew. Even Garth was running down information. After what felt like days of research, Sam and Cas took off on a lead, leaving Dean to care for Y/N on his own, which he didn’t mind in the slightest.

While Sam and Cas were gone, his days consisted of turning classic rock songs into lullabies, warming bottles, changing diapers and spoon feeding rice cereal and carrots to Y/N as she laughed and made a mess. After playtime, they would both take a nap then repeat the process. Rocking her to sleep became his favorite ritual.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dean asked the little pink bundle in his arms. It was the third night and they were both tired, but Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling and filled with wonder as one of her tiny hands grasped at his face. “I know you do, but since you can’t talk, I’m going to tell you a little bedtime story.

“I had been living with Lisa and Ben, trying to live a normal life like Sammy wanted. But then Sam was back and I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t live that life without my brother. After we got Sam’s soul back, things were normal as they get for us. Saving people, hunting things...you know the drill. Anyway, the new big bad arrived and we had no idea how to take her down. Eve. Such a pretty name for such an evil bi-oops, lady. Turned out we needed the ashes from a Phoenix, but no one had seen one for several decades.

“We had been digging around in the Campbell's secret bunker and I found a book, a journal. A journal that belonged to Samuel Colt. His journal entry said he killed a Phoenix with his gun. With The Colt. Cas sent us back to 1861 to Sunrise, Wyoming to catch up with Colt and get the gun to kill the Phoenix and bring back it’s ashes to gank Eve.

“This Phoenix was stirring up trouble, burning anyone who had been involved with his wife’s murder. The judge, the sheriff, the deputy. I was playing sheriff when you strolled into my office with the Colt on your hip. You were stunning. I had never met any woman like you. You were a hunter and Colt’s niece and I thought I had died and gone to heaven and I didn’t even know you.

“We killed the Phoenix, but as we tried to gather the ashes, you by my side, Cas yanked us back. My first thought wasn’t that I didn’t get the ashes, but that I had lost you. Until you ended up back in our world and helped us defeat Eve. I knew you were it for me. I begged Cas not to send you back, but in the end, it was you that convinced him to let you stay.”

Dean stopped rocking and realized that Y/N was fast asleep, suckling on her fist. Dean gently laid her on her back in the portable crib and tiptoed out of the room. He rummaged through the kitchen for a snack, prepared a couple more bottles, and shuffled back to his room. He didn’t sleep as well without Y/N in his bed, but she was sound asleep and safe in the crib next to him and for now that would be good enough until he had the full grown Y/N back in his arms.  

With the newly installed infant carrier in Baby’s backseat, Dean and Y/N drove through the quiet streets of Lebanon. They stopped at the thrift shop where he found her some great second hand toys, stopped by the post office and finished their adventure with a lunch at the diner.

“Dean! I didn’t know you have a daughter! She’s beautiful, looks just like her mother,” Dorothy, the only waitress commented.

“Thanks Dot, but, uh, she’s not mine,” Dean replied, giving her his signature smile. “Just watching her for a few days.”

Dorothy clucked her tongue and walked away, clearly not believing him. Dean turned back to Y/N in her carrier next to him, his mind running away with him.

After their adventurous day, Y/N and Dean were pretty tuckered out and crashed as soon as they got home. When Dean woke up, he changed her diaper and made them a quick dinner. Rice cereal, sweet potatoes and peaches for little miss, while he had a sandwich. The simple domesticity of his life right now surprised him. He was quite comfortable with the routine they had and how easy he had acclimated to it. After picking up the kitchen, he gave Y/N a bath, making sure he got all the food out of her hair.

Dean was just sitting down to give her a nighttime bottle when the heavy door opened and closed, followed by heavy footfalls on the metal staircase. Sam entered the library with Cas.

“You are quite good with her, Dean,” Cas observed.

“She’s a good baby. It’s easy,” Dean told him, smiling down at her as she ate.

“Uh, Dean? We’ve got everything we need. Took four days and five different Wicca shops, but we finally figured it all out,” Sam commented, setting everything on the table. “We need some of her hair. Just a few strands should do.”

“Let me just put her to bed and I’ll be back,” Dean finished feeding Y/N, burped her and he walked down the hall to put her to bed. She yawned sleepily, then grabbed his face with both of her tiny little hands, pulling him closer to her.

“I know Sweetheart. Me too,” Dean placed a gently kiss to her forehead and put her in her crib, covering her lightly with his flannel that had become her favorite blanket. “I’ll see you in the morning, Y/N.”

Dean slowly walked back down the hall to the library. He was excited to get his Y/N back, but the last four days with baby Y/N made him realize a metric ton of shit. Things he never thought much about before because he was a hunter. He had a shit life and didn’t need a bunch of pipe dreams clogging his thoughts, distracting him from the job.

He passed Sam the strands of Y/N’s hair he had plucked from her head. She had barely made a fuss, like she knew it was a good reason. Sam took the hairs gingerly from his brother and added them to the bowl as Cas finished adding the rest of the spell components. Sam recited the spell and dropped a lit match in the bowl. A plume of pure white smoke rose into the air.

“Thanks guys. For doing all this for her. For both of us,” Dean hugged his brother and bid them goodnight.

He picked Y/N from the crib and placed her gently in the bed. He didn’t want her to wake up in the portable crib. He placed all the extra pillows around the edge before he laid down next to her. He picked up her little hand and she wrapped it around his finger. He stroked the smooth skin on the back of her hand. He knew she would be back to normal in the morning, but he was going to miss baby Y/N. He hummed her a lullaby, gently coaxing himself into slumber.

Warm breath fanned across his face like a summer breeze. Dean took a deep breath and his head was filled with Y/N. His eyes shot open and there she was. All grown up and wearing his flannel that he had covered her with the night before.

“Oh thank god! I missed you so much!” Dean pulled her into his arms, crushing her with the strength of his embrace. “I love you.”

“Dean! ...need to breathe…” she gasped.

He released her, holding her at arms length. She was so beautiful and he was grateful to his brother and Cas for returning her to him.

“Baby, we were just on a hunt the other day. I feel like I’ve been asleep for days!” She stretched lazily next to him. “And I’m starving!”

“Yeah, about that. Witch’s spell turned you into a baby,” Dean gave her the cliff notes version. “Come on, you make coffee and I’ll make some breakfast.”

Over breakfast, Dean relayed the events from when he ganked the witch until the night before. Y/N listened intently, not believing what she had heard. They cleaned up and washed the dishes together, like many times before. But Dean couldn’t help but notice how it felt different this time. He leaned over and kissed her for the first time in days. He pushed her up against the sink as things quickly heated up.

Dean started unbuttoning his flannel, the shirt falling from her bare shoulders to the floor. He watched it pool around her feet and his eyes followed the long lines of her legs until he reached his favorite spot. Her beautiful bare…

“Nope,” he threw his hands up and covered his eyes.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” She asked, concerned that something had happened since she had been away that changed his feelings for her.

“Y/N, I love you. I love all of you. Your mind, your heart and soul. And this beautiful body? Hell yes, but I need you to do one thing for me,” Dean looked her straight in the eye.

“Dean, I’d do anything for you. You know that,” she said solemnly, meeting his gaze.

“I need you not to shave for a while,” he muttered.  

“What? Why? You love my bald…” Dean cut her off, placing his hand over her mouth.

“Because for four days, I had to wipe and bath it. It’s different now. I don’t know how to explain it further. I’m sure it will pass,” Dean sighed, running a hand down his face.

“It’s okay Dean. I can do that,” she laughed, pulling him back to her. She pressed her naked body up against him. “Until it passes, I can think of a hundred and seven things we can do.”

“I think we should make a baby,” he blurted out.

“Make that a hundred and eight things,” she crashed her lips to his, a new fire lit inside both of them.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean  @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog @hunterscabin

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[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - 2 Kings 1:6

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael. Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N:  my keyboard sort of died halfway through the chapter, so I've been typing directly on the screen of my tablet. Haaaaate. If you notice any misspellings in this chapter, now you know why.

***

In the end, finding Gabriel had been a simple matter of looking for reports of sudden, unusual lighting. And as far as such phenomena go, ball lighting is among the rarest of them all; for it to be reported right above Soho Square the previous night, along with a curious hole in the ground… well, it was quite the red flag. A red flag that let out the most distinctive fishy smell. 

And if there was something Sandalphon was good at following, it was fishy smells. In this one specific case, he didn’t think he’d have to follow it very far. He knew exactly who he’d find only a couple of streets away, close enough even for a weakened Gabriel to stagger to.

“... You think he might have turned to Aziraphale?” Michael had asked, seemingly unconvinced. Uriel, on the other hand, had been quicker to agree with his theory.

“Assuming that is the spot where he fell, Aziraphale is the closest angel he could hope to find.”

“If he is indeed still an angel, given that Hellfire did not harm him.”

“He has God’s protection,” Uriel had muttered, her voice bitter. “We have to assume he is.”

“And Gabriel was hurt. We were not allowed to heal him before he was sent down. He might have thought he could do that,” Sandalphon had added, despite not really knowing whether or not Gabriel had been able to think at all. When they let him go after taking his wings from him, to be cast out, he was barely coherent - barely conscious, falling limply from their grip. 

“And why would he think Aziraphale of all angels would help him?” Michael had asked, only to gain herself a long look from Uriel. 

“Who else could he turn to? He has nothing and no one on Earth.”

He still has us up here, Sandalphon had thought, but it had remained unspoken. “He used to be friendly enough with this human tailor,” he’d said. “He made him good clothes. Gabriel always had a taste for human clothing.”

“... And when was that?”

“Well, that was in the middle of the Regency, so-- ah. Right. Humans and their life spans.”

In the end, he’d volunteered to go check himself; despite having no desire to see Aziraphale up close ever again, just in case he shot Hellfire towards him again somehow, he was the one with the best knowledge of London. 

And it hadn’t taken long for him to know his intuition had been correct: he’d been just across the street - it looked like someone had smashed their car into a pole - when the door had opened. And out they had walked, all three of them: the demon, Aziraphale... and Gabriel, somehow unsteady on his feet but unharmed.

He’d almost lost them several times in the few minutes that followed, because the driving of whoever was behind the wheel positively insane. The cab driver he’d flagged down - and who’d reacted to his request to follow that car with a frankly puzzling “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this all my life!” - could barely manage to follow, and would have probably been left in the dust if they hadn’t stopped only a few streets away. 

Gabriel had looked… just a little green in the face when he’d left the car, and had paused to speak to Aziraphale, who from his part didn't seem in the slightest bit antagonizing. It was a relief, really, considering that Gabriel would be powerless to defend himself should he decide to take revenge. Or the demon, certainly the demon would want to harm him; if he hadn't, Sandalphon could only assume Aziraphale had him on a tight leash. Even from across the street - entirely unaware of the fly sitting on the roof of the Bentley - he could smell sulphur and evil.

In the end, both Aziraphale and the demon had left, and Gabriel had gone inside the hotel. Sandalphon had decided to wait a short while before going in as well, in case those two came back for whatever reason. So he walked in a bar across the street - if he’d known humans only marginally better, he would have also known that ‘an angel walks in a bar’ would be an excellent start for a joke - and ordered a mug of the bitter beverage humans enjoy. 

“... Coffee?” a waiter asked, only slightly perplexed; soon enough, waitressing would destroy what was left of his will to live and he would no longer feel surprised at anything anymore. 

“Yes, that,” Sandalphon agreed - he would know, he reasoned, it was his job - and sat there, sipping the bitter liquid that was brought to him, before he pulled out the phone Michael had given him. A special sort of phone, with a reception and data plan that was, quite simply, not of that world. 

Michael answered in the middle of the very first ring. “Well…?”

“I found him.”

A long sigh of relief. “How is he?”

“Haven’t spoken to him yet, but he seems… reasonably well, all things considered. He did turn to Aziraphale. The demon was there, too.”

“And they didn’t harm him?”

“Not that I could see. They left him in a hotel. I’ll go in as soon as I have finished this…” Sandalphon paused. “Hey, uh… servant?” He wasn’t entirely certain what they were called nowadays, but that was the gist of it, he supposed. “What is this beverage again?”

As another small part of his soul withered and died, the waiter - a young student who was wondering if a history degree was truly worth nine thousand pounds a year, considering that those who study history are doomed to watch those who don’t repeat it anyway - forced himself to smile. “Coffee, sir.”

“Coffee. Not bad, perks you up. Maybe Gabriel would like some.”

“... Do ask him. But first and foremost, make sure he knows that we’re here to help him.”

“Of course,” Sandalphon said, and ended the call with the absolute, idiotic certainty that Gabriel would be overjoyed to see him. 

***

“Ugh.”

The book sailed through the air in an elegant arc to land somewhere in the vicinity of the wastebasket. Sitting on the bed, face contorted in disgust, Gabriel faintly wished he could will it to catch fire. What he’d just read about human bodily functions was… ugh. Ugh.

‘Disgust’ wasn’t something he had often felt towards humanity - usually there was a vague interest at times and polite disinterest most others - but now it certainly was his strongest feeling. His current condition suddenly seemed even more of a punishment; all the showers he could possibly take wouldn’t help make it better. He was never going to feel clean again.

Never going to feel whole again, either.

On his back, over his shoulder blades, the ragged scars where his wings had been ached. Not the physical sort of ache he’d had a quite literal crash course in over the past twenty-four hours, but something deeper, throbbing worse than any infection - worse than the hunger he was desperately trying to ignore, the contents of the small fridge in his room untouched on the desk. Gabriel’s voice rang through the empty room as a raspy whisper. “I’m sorry.” 

Could God hear him? Or rather, would God lend an ear to what he had to say - a disgraced angel cast out of Heaven, away from Their glory? He didn’t know. All he had was hope and he would cling to that. After all, however much he felt like it, he was not in Hell. So maybe… maybe there was hope for him yet. Gabriel looked up, and sank on his knees beside the bed.

“I meant well. I thought I was upholding the greater good. I never meant to take Your judgment upon myself. If I did-- I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please, let me come home. I won’t fail you again.”

There was the faintest echo of his own voice, and then… silence. Outside someone in the road shouted an insult that might have been meant for someone’s mother or their cat, it was hard to tell. A door somewhere in the hallway was opened and shut again. Nothing else happened.

Of course not. I need a Circle to speak with God, or at least to his Voice.

Only that of course, he had no idea how to make one, because he never needed to try contacting God - or rather, Metatron; no one had spoken directly to God in eons - all the way from Earth. Even if he could, would God take his call at all?

Why would They? Who do you think you are, that God would give you audience?

The Archangel Gabriel.

Not anymore.

I thought I was someone important.

You never were.

I thought…

Prideful fool.

Gabriel’s missing wings ached, his stomach cramped, and he went from kneeling to curling up on the floor, eyes shut. A memory tried to resurface, that of being held on the ground by two pairs of hands, of a weigh on him as his wings were torn away, and he shut his eyes tighter.

“At least tell me why,” he choked out. “Why me? Why only me?”

Silence. Something bubbled into the pit of despair in him, something hot and bitter that was not, as Sandalphon would have gleefully suggested, coffee. It was burning anger, against his predicament and, even more dangerously, against God.

Am I hearing you say God got it wrong? That you know better than the Almighty?

A crime born of pride.

Or you admit that God got it right, and you deserve this? You can't have it both ways, Gabe.

“They assisted me! Worked with me, made decisions with me-- we were equals in everything!” 

And they truly had been, him and Michael especially, utterly loyal since even before the first war. God’s warrior, and God’s messenger. How could it be that, for the same crime, one was condemned and the other carried out the sentence? How could it be fair, how could it be just?

I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God.

Not anymore. I am no one, and I am alone.

“I always did my best - I… I deserve an explanation!” Gabriel choked out, beyond caring how blasphemous the notion was, that God owed him anything. “A word! A sign! Anything!”

“Ah, give up. Either God has the worst reception, or they really don’t care to speak to any of us,” a voice rang out suddenly, and it caused Gabriel freeze - both because it was unexpected, and because it was a voice he knew; one that couldn’t possibly be further away from God’s.

Sitting on the bed like it was a throne, towering over his huddled form on the floor and surrounded by a cloud of sulphur, was the Prince of Hell.

***

Beelzebub quite enjoyed towering over others. They enjoyed lording over others as well, being a Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies, which generally came easier. ‘Towering’ is honestly the hard part, when your usual form is fairly diminutive in size. Therefore, they quite appreciated Gabriel’s choice to lower himself on the floor; it was a promising start for their new work relationship. 

Of course it wasn’t them he had lowered himself for, but it mattered not. He would, in time. Sooner or later. Possibly sooner.

Beelzebub, Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies, was not known for their patience.

“What-- you? What are you doing here?”

That was… no appropriate way to greet one’s new superior either; Beelzebub supposed they could excuse it, if anything because Gabriel had a lot to process at the moment and, last they had met, they had worked on opposite sides essentially as equals. It was a big change, something  angels did not do well with.

Yes, they could excuse him. They just chose not too. As Gabriel scrambled to sit up, Beelzebub gave him an unimpressed look.

“That is no way to greet your superior. I believe ‘your Lordship’ or ‘sir’ would serve better.”

That gained them a rather stupid look as Gabriel sat up, still on the ground. “But… you’re not.”

All right, so maybe he either wasn’t as clever as he made himself seem, or was still quite deep in denial. Beelzebub rolled their eyes and stood, coming to tower - ah how they loved that word - directly above Gabriel. “You are Fallen,” they said, in the slow voice you’d use for a very slow child. Or at least, so Beelzebub assumed. It wasn’t often they spoke with very slow children or any children at all, with the exception of the not-Antichrist. Although dealing with especially slow demons probably came close enough. “Therefore, you now belong in Hell. I am here to claim you. You will work under my supervision and--”

“What-- no!” Gabriel protested, and moved to stand; a look from Beelzebub was enough for him to reconsider, but he did glare up at them. "That voice in my head, telling me all the worst-- it was you!"

"Uh, no. You're just going crazy."

“Ah." Gabriel had the good grace to look embarrassed before speaking again. "I-- I am not Fallen.”

“No? You seem to have landed quite heavily.”

If the remark stung, Gabriel did not let it show. “On Earth, not in Hell,” he argued. “You have no claim on me!”

Beelzebub snorted. “You still fell, and I expect you to tell me the reason why. Am I supposed to care for the fine print?”

“You-- always cared about the fine print!” Gabriel protested, and truth be told, it was one thing they had in common… with one important distinction. 

“I care about the fine print when it benefits me.”

The notion seemed to downright offend him. “You can’t do that! And… and if I were meant for Hell, I would not have landed on Earth! It must mean something."

Ah, look at him, clinging to details because it was all he could hold onto in his desperate certainty he was still special, one of God’s golden archangels. With another roll of their eyes, Beelzebub held out a hand. To a casual observer, it might have looked like a nice gesture to help him up; Gabriel, knowing better, stared at that hand like one would stare at a claw about to tear the soul out of their body.  

“You bore me. Now, come. No reason to make it more difficult for yourself. We prepared a nice spot for you in Hell.” As nice as a spot in Hell got, anyway. Which wasn’t very nice, or else it wouldn’t be Hell, but Gabriel could probably guess.

Somehow, the former Archangel Gabriel - who at the moment looked like garbage, however much Beelzebub tended to appreciate garbage - found the audacity to sneer. “You cannot claim me and you know it. Mortals are beyond your grasp unless they offer up their soul, or get to the end of their life doomed to Hell.”

Taking a mental note to leave leave him to Dagon for a bit once they got back - they didn’t call her Master of Torments for nothing - Beelzebub sneered right back.

“That is not a long wait,” they pointed out. The reminder of how pathetically short human lives were knocked that smirk off his face, at least. “And I could make it even shorter with a snap of my fingers.”

“I--” fear twisted Gabriel’s features for a moment, then he forced himself to scowl. A valiant attempt, Beelzebub had to concede. “But you won’t.”

“Oh?”

“There is no telling whether my soul would be claimed by Heaven or Hell if you destroy this vessel now,” Gabriel retorted and, for Satan’s sake, of course he was right. Trying to claim his soul now against his will could very well backfire, giving him a ticket straight back to Heaven and leaving them empty-handed. Still…

“... You’re not certain yourself, are you?” Beelzebub tilted their head on one side. “Or else you would have already ended it.”

“I…” Gabriel scowled, cheeks reddening like the Prince of Hell had just unveiled a shameful secret, a shameful weakness. “E-either way, you won’t take the risk.”

Beelzebub narrowed their eyes. “So, you won’t make this easy. Very well.” They sneered, leaning forward and causing that infuriating, pompous idiot to shrink, trying to scoot back on his hands and backside across the floor, away from them and towards the door. “I’ll claim your soul the old-fashioned way. I’ll be your shadow from now on. I’ll whisper temptations in your ear every day of your sad, little, short human lifespan - until it runs out and you’ll be ours.”

Truth be told, as a high-ranking demon mostly based in Hell, Beelzebub was severely out of practice when it came to tempting humans to their side… but that was a detail Gabriel needed not know. And besides, how hard could it be? They would brush up their skills in no time, the Lord of the Flies was sure of it.

“Y-you-- I--” Gabriel, who had paled a little more with each word Beelzebub uttered, had to swallow before his spoke. When he did, his voice was probably shakier than he would have liked. “It won’t work. I won’t let you tempt me. If this is God’s test for me--”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. God doesn’t care about you all that much, and besides I am not their delivery boy. I am here for Hell’s sake. And once I do claim you, you will regret making me wait.”

Gabriel swallowed, then - showing a good deal of idiocy - scowled again. He looked about as threatening as a panda, but at least there was an attempt. “Your plan will not work. I won’t allow you to tempt me. You can’t have me.”

“Yes, yes. Many have said the same. And they have failed.”

“I will not!” Gabriel snapped, and began to stand up. “I am the Archangel Gabriel, and there is no force of Hell or Earth that will ever get me on your side. Begone, foul bea--”

“Hello? Gabriel? Anybody in?”

After the voice rang out, something interesting happened: Gabriel shrieked, and ended all attempts at getting up as though every muscle in his body had turned to cooked asparagus. He fell back on his backside to stare at the door, which was now open, with wide eyes. 

Beelzebub followed his gaze to see a familiar enough face; Sandalphon may look unassuming in that form, but they knew he could be a force to be reckoned with. The few times they had met, Sandalphon had been firmly by Gabriel's side… but right now, the former archangel looked far from pleased to see him.  He looked terrified, actually, in a way Beelzebub had failed to make him, which was rather annoying and more than slightly insulting.

What happened upstairs, anyway? Why was he cast out?

"Gabriel! Oh, here you are - we were worried. It's, er, good to see you?"

Beelzebub blinked, gaze shifting between Gabriel - who was scrambling again to get up, but mostly scooting away on the floor - and Sandalphon, who seemed to be doing his best to come across as harmless, hands raised and a nervous smile on his face. Of course, all pretense of harmlesses was gone the second his eyes fell on Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, Lord of the Flies and so forth. 

“What-- you! What are you doing here!”

Ah, the arrogance of angels - acting like the Prince of Hell owed him an explanation for being on Earth, as though they had just showed up uninvited in Heaven itself after getting on the wrong elevator. Which had only happened once or twice in millennia, really; Beelzebub considered it a pretty good going.

“Did you buy the hotel? Got carried away with your game of Monopoly?” they asked drily. The invention of Monopoly - or rather, the twisting of its intended purpose and the violence it prompted at the tables of the most respectable households - was one of Hell’s proudest achievements. Not quite up there with the absolute, brilliant chaos a game of Uno could wreak, or the utter ruin of compulsive gambling, but close enough.

Sandalphon bared his teeth in a gesture that made him look fairly threatening, Beelzebub had to concede, although Dagon certainly pulled it off better. “If you so much lift a hand on him--” he began, only to trail off when Gabriel managed to find his knees and scrambled to hide… behind Beelzebub.

Well. Now that only added to their confusion, and the hands grasping at the lapel of their jacket added to their annoyance. Beelzebub turned to look down at Gabriel, who stared up at them - still on his knees, a nice change - with wide, terrified eyes. Which was… also a change, but not necessarily a nice one. Beelzebub would have enjoyed it a lot more if they had the slightest inkling as to what the Heaven was going on.

“I’m sorry,” they said, tilting their head on one side. “Do you want to lose those hands?”

“Beelzebub! Don’t you dare touch him!” Sandalphon barked. 

Oh, for Satan’s sake, had those two decided to share one single brain cell that day? 

“He is the one touching me!” Beelzebub snapped, and glared down. That gaze had made demons burst crying and, upon occasion, burst in flames. “What did I do or say that made you think you’re allowed to touch me?”

No flames, and no tears. While Gabriel looked paler, and the grip on the lapels of their jacket only tightened. “Don’t let him get me.” 

Beelzebub, Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies, opened their mouth. Then, failing to think of anything at all he could retort to that, they closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again. 

What. In. The. World. Is. Going. On. 

Still near the door, Sandalphon sputtered. “Gabriel what-- I’m not going to-- that was God’s order, I couldn’t-- didn’t want to--”

Well well well. The more they talked, the more interesting the picture became. Confused, but still interesting. Something had happened, and the more Beelzebub knew, the more they could use to make their case and convince Gabriel to take his rightful place in Hell. “What did you do to him?”

“I-- it wasn’t me, Michael--” Sandaphon began, then trailed off when his brain caught up with his tongue. His lost expression turned into anger again. “I have nothing to explain to you, demon.”

Beelzebub sneered. “It is Prince of Hell to you,” they said. “So-- Michael. What did Michael do to him? What did God order you to do?”

“I owe no explanation--”

Beelzebub looked away from him, down at the… former archangel still holding on the lapels of their jacket. He was looking at Sandalphon, too, hiding behind them like a scared mortal child, but looked up when Beelzebub spoke. “What did they do to you?”

Gabriel swallowed, and his voice was barely audible when he spoke. “My wings.”

Gone, of course. Mortals have no wings. They took them.

Now that was… callous. Heaven wasn’t tender with those it deemed unworthy of being there anymore, but even them - even Satan - got to keep their wings. As a whole, making him mortal was callous; more powerless than any demon. And of course, of course God would get other angels, his friends, to do the dirty work for them; they rarely struck anyone personally nowadays. 

There was a degree of sadism in that way of handling things that, Beelzebub suspected, even Satan himself could not hope to match. Not that they would go saying as much aloud; Satan would most certainly take offense.

“Did you at least try to argue? Or did you just turn on him like vultures on a carcass?”

“Argue with God?” Sandalphon looked horrified at the mere thought. “Of course not, we-- you-- ah, you’d do that, wouldn’t you? You did, and look where it got you!”

“And so you threw him down rather than leap yourselves,” Beelzebub muttered, and scoffed. “Of course you would. No surprise there.” 

Not that Hell would precisely flock at the defense of a demon condemned by Satan himself, but that was entirely beside the point. The point there was making Heaven look bad - and it wasn't like they got many chances to do that. The guys upstairs had infuriatingly good PR and fan clubs across the world, some of which would put most demons to shame. An amazing percentage of them did, in fact, turn up in Hell once their life was done. They were rarely happy about their placement, but who ever was?

The angel’s features twisted in fury. “We had no choice, and you know it!”

A scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you did. You could have chosen to refuse and take the fall with him.”

“I...” Sandalphon hesitated, and looked down at Gabriel, once again looking very lost. Beelzebub felt the grip on the lapels of their jacket tightening, heard a sharp intake of breath. “Gabriel, we--”

“You dropped him the moment God told you to,” Beelzebub sneered. “God forsook him and so did you.”

“We didn’t want--”

“But you did. And now you think you can come uninvited and force your presence on him?”

“He’s not yours, Beelzebub!”

“Neither he’s yours. And you don’t want him back.”

“You know nothing! We do want--”

“Oh? And what are you going to do? Argue with God to allow him back? Please. You won’t do it and you know it.”

No answer; Sandalphon had enough sense, at least, not to deny that. He stilled, face pale, and looked back down at Gabriel - silent, helpless. Beelzebub held back a sneer, and glanced down as well. 

“Want me to get him to leave?”

For a few moments, there was no reply; Gabriel stayed on his knees, gaze low, saying nothing. Then, slowly, he let go of Beelzebub’s jacket, reached up to wipe his face - ah, yes, humans leaked that way - and stood. Sowly, still behind them, but he stood and drew in a long breath. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse,  but with a degree of coldness to it that hadn’t been there before. 

“... If you please,” he said.

Sandalphon’s eyes turned wide as saucers. "What? No, Gabriel, you can't-- listen to me--"

"I begged you to stop."

"Gabriel--"

"You didn't listen."

"It was God's will, you know we couldn't-"

All right, that was enough. A gesture of Beelzebub's hand, and a swarm of flies materialized right outside the open window. They barged in, buzzing furiously, and surrounded Sandalphon, who could only cry out and stumble back through the door. Another gesture, and the door slammed shut - a curtain of Hellfire covering it, to keep any angel from coming in again. 

"That ought to keep them out for a good while," they muttered. There was no answer; behind them there was only a long sigh, the creak of a mattress' springs.

They turned to see Gabriel sitting back on the bed, burrowing his face into shaky hands. He drew in a deep breath before uttering something that was… rare for the Prince of Hell to hear.

"... Thank you."

Well, look at that. Maybe, entirely by accident, they were on to something. The long-held belief that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar was quite frankly a load of crap - especially in the case of fruit flies who are attracted by vinegar like nothing else - but perhaps, when it came to catching a former archangel, a different approach may be needed.

And Beelzebub might have just found the right angle.

"... All right," they said calmly, and sat down at well, chin resting on their fist. "Tell me what happened."

***

"And they said to him, a man came up to us and told us to go back to the king and give him this message. ‘This is what the Lord says: Is there no God in Israel? Why are you sending men to Baal-zebub, the god of Ekron, to ask whether you will recover? Therefore, because you have done this, you will never leave the bed you are lying on; you will surely die.’" 2 Kings 1:6

***

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Chaos: 38

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of violence, sex, questionable con, and non-con (though we’re thankfully done with that), and other possible triggers.

I am SO excited.  I’ve left bread crumbs all over this fic and we’re nearing the point that they’ve all been leading to.  That’s not to say I’m done laying bread crumbs.  There’s a few key ones in here even.

Hope you all enjoy the angst.  THANK YOU SO MUCH to those who have left comments recently.  They really brighten my day and make me want to get more of the story out for you all.

As always, a special thanks to @inorganicone2230​. I can’t express how grateful I am for your friendship, and help with ideas and proofreading Chaos and Erase the Shadow.  There’s no one else I’d rather go down the rabbit hole of plot bunnies with.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155333/chapters/54145633

38.1

Hawks brandished his blade at Enji. “Where’s Reyanna?”

“Where’s my son?”

“Son?” The feathers of Hawks’ wings quivered, itching to be released after being restrained for so long.

Todoroki stepped out into the office. “Hello, Father.”

Father? Hawks thought looking between the Second Chief of heaven and the Child of Hope.  His eyes widened as realization dawn.

“Father!”

Todoroki and Enji stared silently at one another.

Hawks’ mind went into a tail spin, but first things first.

He lifted his blade at Enji and demanded.  “Where’s Anna?  What did you do to her?”

“Why would I know or care where the Bitch is.”  Enji snapped.  Burning blue eyes on his son, he ordered.  “Todoroki.  Come here.”

Hawks’ wings spread to block the Llaes’ way.

“No.” Todoroki said.

Hawks swallowed, relieved that Todoroki refused to go.

As surprising as the information was, it explained a lot.  Like how Todoroki had been able to freeze things back at Purgatory Chasm for one.  All the other Llaes’ before him had been fully human, and as such didn’t have an affinity.  Not even Abril.

Hawks turned his head slightly and looked at Todoroki out of the corner of his eye.  “How long have you known you were a nephilim?”

Fuck. It just struck him that the kid was like Reyanna.  A nephilim born of a human and… well in this case, an archangel.

Todoroki blinked and shook his head.  “Only recently.  Though I guess, in a sense, I always knew.”  He lifted his eyes to Enji.  “You’re not going to kill us.  So let us go.”

“You’re wrong.  I’m not going to kill you.  But the Released traitor here.”  Enji flames flared.  “Him I just might end.”

“Gook luck with that. My restraint’s been lifted.”

Enji barely glanced at Hawks.  The Released Archangel’s posturing didn’t even warrant a reply.

“Let us go, Father.”

Eyes on Todoroki, Enji remarked almost proudly. “You completed the second step.  A fete that vision-less Toshinori never thought possible. But if it wasn’t safe for you before, it certainly won’t be now.”

“Reyanna will protect me.”  Todoroki replied easily.

Enji scoffed. “Like she did with the others before you?  No, my boy.  That Bitch has failed too many times for me to trust her with you.  She betrayed the last Child of Hope and willingly gave her up to Lucifer.  Did she tell you that?”

“That’s not true!”  Hawks exclaimed.  “Aizawa took her and forced her. That fucking shit broke her and raped her.  Todoroki!”  He called behind him, eyes and blade still directed at the Archangel before him, ready to fight. “She didn’t betray the last Llaes.  There’s no way Anna would willingly give one of you up.”

Todoroki pressed his lips together.  His eyes lowered as if considering.

Finally he lifted his head, eyes locking with his Father’s.  “I don’t care.  I’m going.”

Enji’s eyes narrowed.

He doubted he would have been a good father.  But he would have been present if his son hadn’t been taken.  Stolen and hidden by some unknown source.  For years he had thought his son was dead.  That was until Todoroki had used his power for the first time.

As much as he wanted to ask his son what had happened, ask who or what had taken him, there were more pressing matters.

“How many steps are left?”  Enji asked.

“One.” Todoroki told.

“And which of the two gates will you close?”  Enji questioned.

“The one that needs it most.”  Todoroki answered.

“Hell.” Enji supplied.

“I will close the gate that will see all of this come to an end.  Never again will there be another Sealer.  I will be the last Llaes and put to right a wrong that begun back during the dawn of man.”  Todoroki said.

Enji nodded, understanding that his son spoke of hell and Lucifer’s incitement of the Fall when the then prideful Archangel refused to serve humanity.

“I still can’t let you go.”  The Second Chief of heaven gruffed.

Not only was his son too important as the Child of Hope, but he had just gotten the boy back.  This was the closest and longest he had been with him since before he was stolen away.

“I’m not asking you, Father.  I’m telling you.”

Enji crossed his arms and huffed.  “You think Toshinori’s ex Assassin can get you passed me?  Even with his Restraint lifted I can end him easily.”

“He’s needed to help with the final task.  If you end him the gates can’t be closed.”  Todoroki said.  Before either archangel could remark on the revelation, he asked. “Did you know my friend is a made Third?”

Enji’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Where was this coming from?  Who cared about the boys friends?  Though he wasn’t all that pleased that his son was fraternizing with Thirds.

“What?”

“My friend.  Shinsou Hitoshi.  His parents were kill by a pack of Were’s. Luckily he survived.  Aizawa found him like he found me.  He took Shinsou in.  Helped--”

“Aizawa’s the one that took you for me!” Enji thundered.

“He didn’t know.”  Todoroki told.

He couldn’t say how he knew Aizawa hadn’t known that he was the Chiefs son, he just did.

The Llaes was able to see into the future and past to some degree, though none had been able to do so to the extent that Abril had.  Other than that limited knowledge, and the ability to seal and unseal things, the Llaes had never been anything other than a regular human being.

But Todoroki wasn’t human.  He was a nephilim.  A true nephilim like Reyanna.  Yet still so unlike his protector.

Somehow he was able to use the creative freedom of his nephilim power to stretch the innate knowledge that came with being the Llaes.  It was a confusing thing that Todoroki had yet to learn how to control. At present, the excess detailed knowledge simply came to him out of necessity or urgent desire.

“If Aizawa had known I was your son, who knows what he would have done.”  Todoroki continued. “All he did was keep his promise to Reyanna by seeking me out and making sure that I was safely hidden till I first used my power. Which is more than I can say for you and heaven.”

“Excuse you.”  Enji stormed.

Todoroki stared at the hulking Archangel unaffected by his anger and flames.  “You have sworn to protect humanity but have left helpless, innocent children to be mauled by Were’s.  If it weren’t for Aizawa, Shinsou would have died.”

“Your friend’s a Witch, just like his parents were.” Enji dismissed.

“So if Shinsou wasn’t a Witch someone from heaven would have stepped in and saved him? His family wouldn’t have died?  He would have been spared the pain of being mauled?  Of being made a Third?”

“Of course not.  Thirds are abominations. Heaven doesn’t mix and meddle with them.”

“But what of the humans that the Thirds attack, Father? What of them?”

Hawks and Enji shared a looked.

The Second Chief sighed, his massive shoulders rising and falling. “You’re too young to understand.”

“Try me.  Convince me that heaven hasn’t simply abandoned the humans to Thirds.  You fight daimon's and demons to protect the lives and souls of humans. Why not Thirds?  What’s so different about them?”  Todoroki pressed, his hard eyes and set jaw making it clear that he would not be dissuaded.

With a growl Enji expelled. “They’re children of Chaos.”

A silent moment passed.

Finally Todoroki prompted.  “And?”

“The Thirds are simply too numerous.”  Enji admitted. “If they put aside their differences and banded together.  Became a united force like they were in the beginning.  They would overwhelm us.  They would overwhelm both heaven and hell.” He stopped.

Todoroki waited for him to continue but when it looked like he wouldn’t he opened his mouth.

“They almost undid God’s work once already.”  Hawks said before Todoroki could speak.

Enji looked away in disgrace.  It was something that no angel or daimon liked to speak of. A failure that still hung heavy over the entire Host of heaven.

“Long before the Fall.  Before any of us realized why God had created the earth.  We were at war with the children of Chaos.”  Hawks told.  “Most of them were weak and defeated easily enough.  But their numbers made them formidable.”  He shook his head and huffed.  “Ever been bitten by an ant?  It might smart but you can kill it with ease and shrug off the sting.  Now imagine being covered by ants, and every time you brush a swath of them away there are countless more that instantly take their place.  That was what we faced.  A nuisance too numerous to handle.  And then there were the Leviathan’s.”

“The creatures that escaped.  That the first Llaes sealed away.”  Todoroki supplied.

Hawks nodded.  “Only a handful of them broke out.  And the smallest ones at that.  Still, we were all lucky Abril was able to lock them away again.  If it weren’t for her, who knows the damage and lives their rampage would have cost humanity.”

“Enough of the history lesson.”  Enji snapped.  “We have a deal with the Thirds.  They stay out of our way and we stay out of theirs. It might be a tentative peace but it’s peace just the same.”

38.2

Reyanna’s eyes snap open, fully cloaked in the chaotic nebulous black of her power.

For a moment Shouta saw burning quasars and spiraling galaxy’s in his Love’s eyes.  And then they were gone.

“Anna!” Shouta said her name in a reverent hush.

His arms tightened around her, crushing her to his chest.

Hizashi blinked in amazement.

So this was the true power of a Bond.  To bring ones love back to life if the person left living was torn up enough by the others death that they were willing to break said Bond.  He had never hear or read of such a thing, and the beauty of it swelled the Angel’s heart with pride and joy for his friend.

Shouta had brought her back.  Reyanna had been dead.  Dead before the Daimon have even arrived.  But despite all that, Shouta's love and their Bond had brought her back.

“I thought I lost you!”  Shouta breathed, unwillingly to admit even to himself that he had.  His eyes squeezed shut, face buried into her hair and neck.  “You’re not ever leaving my side again.  You hear me.”

He exhaled and breathed deeply, taking in her scent while trying to steady his heart. Her body was no longer chilled against his, but warm.  Yet the fear and adrenaline still rushed through him, making his hands tremble.

“You scared me.”  He admitted, softly. “I don’t know what--”

“You betrayed me.”

Shouta's muscles tensed, a chill running down his spine.  “What?”

“You... betrayed me.”  Reyanna repeated, as if still coming to grips with what he had done.

Her eyebrows furrowed, her arms tightening and shaking around him as the memories crashed over her in a drowning onslaught.

She remembered everything.  Absolutely everything.  She remembered what he had done.  And why she had wiped her memory and gone to slumber.  She remembered the deaths he… No.  The death they had caused.

It washed over and through her in a rapid tide of boiling acid that took her breath away and made her wish she were dead.

Though he didn’t let her go, Shouta pulled back far enough to see her face.

His wide, worried eyes stared into hers.  “Anna. I...”

He was at a loss of what to say.  A part of him still hoped beyond hope that she hadn’t remembered and was talking about something else.  Some misunderstanding he could easily explain.

Shouta stopped and slowly shook his head.

“You betrayed me!”  She screamed, pushing him away.

She was on her feet in an instant.  Her feet staggered, legs wobbly from the sudden change and having flinted to a stand.

“Anna!” Shouta knelt and got to his feet, his hand reaching out to steady her.

Reyanna slapped his hand away, the sound loud in the empty field.

“Don’t touch me.  Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”  She seethed.

Hizashi cringed, his head ducking with a jerk.

Shouta's hand extended to her then stopped at the curling of her lip.  It hovered between them, palm up and open, a silent beckoning plea for her to take it.

“Anna.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?  That I wouldn’t remember?” She demanded.

Hizashi bit his lip.

“It’s like you betrayed me all over again!”  She exclaimed.

“No.” Shouta said firmly.  “I never betrayed you.  And I didn’t tell you because you never would have trusted me.”

“Which I can’t.”  She declared.

“Yes. You can.  You know you can.  Anna, everything I do is for you.  Because I want you to be safe and well.  Because I need you to be safe and well.  If you remember everything, than you know that.”

She hugged herself and stepped back from him, the urge to take his hand too great.  Why did she have to love him so much?  Why couldn’t he have just told her the truth?  It was too much.  It all just hurt too much.

Shouta stepped after her, he hand still extended.  “Anna.”

His voice was hoarse with emotion. He had lost her for a time to her slumber and memory wipe, and had worked at slowly getting her back.  Then he had lost her to death and miraculously gotten her back, only to now lose her again because she had remembered what he had done.  Fate was nothing if not cruel.

Well fuck fate, he thought.  He wasn’t losing her again.  He wouldn’t let her leave.  He would convince her to forgive him and stay.  He had to.  He didn’t think he’d be able to bare the pain of it if she left him again.

“I didn’t betray you.  I would never betray you.”  He swore.

You used her love and desire for you against her, his mind accused.  You betrayed her and you know it. Shut up!  He thought.  He didn’t need his inner guilt badgering him and siding with her.

“Anna. Let me explain.  Please, my Love.” His left hand lifted to lightly clasp her upper arm.

His eyes landed on his thumb, bare for the first time in centuries.  A tremble of fear ran down his spine.  Their Bond was broken.  If he didn’t convince her to forgive him and stay.  If she left…

No. He thought with a metal shake.  He would get through to her.  After all, he had kept his promise to help her help the Llaes.  She couldn’t deny that.

Even if she did leave, there was still the Tie.  He would find her.  Even without the Tie, he would always find her.  He would make her understand and forgive him.  He had to.  He loved her too much to be without her.  They belonged together.

Reyanna grabbed his wrist.  She stared at him, her heart breaking like it had all those years ago.

Shouta felt a moment of hope when her thumb rubbed against him, but then she shoved his hand away.

“You had all this time to explain yourself. To tell me what you did. But you chose to keep me oblivious, like some idiot. Well you don’t have to explain anymore, Shouta. I remember what you did.  I remember...”  Bile rose in her throat as the image of two dead bodies swam in her mind. “I remember everything.”

The gruesome image of the way she had found Tamaki and the Llaes’ when she returned to the safe house refused to leave her.

“I did what I had to to keep you safe and well.” Shouta told.

“We could’ve found another way, Shou.”

“There was no other way.”

The image of the Llaes and Tamaki’s lifeless forms flashed in her mind. “You killed them! You made me kill them.”

“No. We didn’t.  It wasn’t like that.”

“I know exactly what it was like, Shouta.  You made a deal with the Devil.”

“For you!”  Shouta stressed feeling desperate.  He was losing her again. He couldn't lose her again.  “Lucifer was hurting you, Anna, I had to--”

“You had Hizashi use the guise of needing to meet so you could get me out in the open and take me.”

Shouta shook his head in regret.  “You never should have run, my Love. You never should have even known about the deal.  Lucifer--”

“Lucifer’s the damned Devil.”  Reyanna spoke over him.  “I expect to be used and betrayed by him.  But you…  You hurt me more than Lucifer ever did or could.  You used my love for you against me.  You took something special between us and darkened it.  Twisting and ruining it for that sick deal you made.”

“Anna, no!  I ruined nothing.  Please, Kitten.”  Shouta felt frantic hearing her say he ruined their love.  “The deal was for you.  For your own good.  He had a part of your life force.  There would've—there is another Llaes.”

“She was a child.  An innocent.”

“And you are my Love.”  He argued.  “You mean everything to me.”

Her lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes.  “I trusted you.”

“You should.”

She felt physically wounded.  “I trusted you with Todoroki.”

“You can.  Anna--”

“No!” She sliced a hand through the air.  “I trusted you!  Twice!  Twice I trusted you.  Twice I fell in love with you.  And what did you do? You betrayed me, again!”

“No! Anna.  I didn’t.  I didn’t betray you.  I kept my word.  I hid Todoroki.  I did what I could to protect--”

“I don’t want to hear your lies.”

“I never lied to--”

“I don’t want to hear your voice!”  Her hand raised to her mouth, stifling a sob.  “I can’t even stand to look at you, you sick, twisted, selfish fuck!”

It was happening all over again, and Shouta couldn't bare it.  His eyes were slowly growing red.  Not with his power, but with unshed tears.

“Anna, please.  Please, Kitten.  Don’t do this.  Not again.”

“Don’t do what again?”  She asked, eyes wild with angry hurt.  “Make you fall in love and trust me?  Wait!  That’s what you did.  You made me fall in love with you again, Shouta.  Made me think that everything between us was perfect.  That we had been happy together...”

“We were.”

“...That we could be happy together...”

“We could.  Anna!”

“...That you had never tricked me and used me to see the Llaes dead.”

“I did it for you!”

“You told Lucifer where to find her!”  She screamed at him.  “You knew he would kill her and you used me and broke me.  You served her and Tamaki--”

Her pupils became pinpoints.  Memories of the human-nephilim hybrid that she had taken into her care flipped through her mind, ever other image that of him dead.  Her breathing quickened.

“Tamaki.” She keened.

Hizashi flinched as if the name were a physical blow.

“I didn’t know he would be there.”  Shouta said.

“I told you!”

“By then it was too late.”

“He was my witness at our bonding, Shouta!”

“For fuck sake, Anna!  I love you!”  Shouta snapped.  “Everyone else could fucking die a horrible death and my world would still be perfect so long as you’re in it.  So long as you’re with me.”

She backed away from him, shaking her head.

Shouta watched her tears break their banks and roll down her cheeks.  His heart wrenched.  He had once again wounded his Love.  He had hurt the most important person to him in all of existence and made her cry.

His next words were spoken with a low gentleness, as if he were afraid to shatter or scare her away.   “I did it for you.  I love you, Anna.”

“How is that suppose to make me feel better, Shouta?”

It already felt like her fault and his words only cemented that feeling. She was Lucifer's daughter.  No matter her motive or deeds, all she would ever bring was pain and death.

She pressed her lips together, trying to blink away the tears that obscured her vision.  As much as she hated herself for her show of weakness, maybe it was better this way.  It was easier to hate him when she couldn’t see the frowning pout on his handsome face, or the love and ache in his dark eyes.

Shouta’s heart raced, his lungs taking in unsteady breaths of air.  She was closing herself off from him again; trying to lock away and bury her love.  He could see it, feel it.

“Anna, don’t do this.  Not again.  Please, my Love.  I beg you.”

“And why would I acquiesce to your plea when you ignored mine?”  She asked, voice cold and brittle.

A lump rose is Shouta’s throat, his Adam's apple bobbing with the painfully swallow.

Her anger had been so terrible for him the first time that he had thought nothing could ever match the heart wrenching pain.  But he had been wrong.  This second time was so much worse.

“I made good on my promise.  I helped you help this Llaes.  I did more than I promised.  I hid and kept him safe.  I saw that he had some semblance of a normal life before he came into his power.”

Her silence was more deafening than any shout.

Shouta's ears rang, his heart pounded so hard he felt it pulse in his temples. He teeth clattered lightly before pressing together.  He couldn’t go through this.  Not again.  He had to convince her.  He had to make her stay.

He stepped toward her.  “Please, Kitten.  Please.”

She pulled away from his reaching hand.  “Don’t touch me.”

“Anna. I can’t live without you.”

“Then I guess you’ll die.”  She uttered too softly for him to hear.

“I love you.”

Her eyes lifted, glaring daggers at him.  “Fuck your love, Aizawa.”

“Ann--” Shouta reached for her but she was gone, already flinted away.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken Wings, pt. 8

08: Love the way you lie

Summary: Ethan and Grayson are both trying to say goodbye to her, just in case everything goes awry.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Word Count: ~ 3000

Broken Wings (Angel AU - G.D.) Masterlist

She laid with her head in his lap, her Y/H/C hair sprawled over his inked thighs as he propped himself up on his elbows. Grayson had spent every waking minute with her, terrified of what's to come once the therapist she called for arrives. He didn't want her risking her current life for a slim possibility of living it until the end only to lose her forever after. Sure, having her die in his arms for centuries has been a living hell, but he always he she'd come back to him after. He always felt her soul is still present. Grayson feared should she change the coarse of her destiny, she'd find peace and her soul would be laid to rest and that...facing a forever without her – the biggest heartache of his existence...that would surely be enough to kill him.

„Whatcu' thinkin' about, angel eyes?“ She teased, her tone playful and airy, so much giddiness hiding behind every letter of every word that Grayson felt his heart die little by little at the thought of losing her. It was a painful ache, a pinch at the core of his being, one that he couldn't fight nor deny.

„You do realize that silence usually means you're back in your broody mood and the bad thoughts are eating away at you?“ She deducts, sitting up to properly look at him, her hair falling all around her beautiful face, framing it in a heavenly manor. Out of all the faces she had in the past, there was never one Grayson couldn't love.

„I'm not broody!“ Grayson defended, his eyes narrowing and his eyebrows furrowing, as if the words itself was an insult when he really just wanted to throw her off his scent. He refused to burden her with his gloominess.

„You're as broody as they come.“ She giggled in his face, throwing a leg over his lap, allowing herself a straddling position as her hands came up to his face, holding it as if it's the Sun...and it is. It is a small piece of sunshine in the palm of her hand – beauty and flames, all together. „But I still love you just the same.“ She smiled, her eyes giving off intense longing and aching neediness he knew he couldn't indulge in.

But she was reckless. As always.

It nearly stopped Grayson's heart when he saw her face coming closer to his, her lips pursed and nearly on his lips. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the soft plush of her lips brush the tip of his nose, his hands premature with their action as they were not only on her hips, but already pushing her off in a rough manor she despised.

„Seriously?!“ She exclaimed, her face one of anger and disappointment, a brewing fight just under the surface. „STOP THROWING ME INTO THE SAND LIKE I'M A RAGDOLL!“ She huffed, getting up on her own as Grayson tried to help, which she ignored completely....Of course. She's as stubborn as they get – one of the traits nearly all her previous reincarnations possessed.

„I'm sorry. I just didn't want to risk it.“ Grayson put his hands in his front pockets, managing to keep eye contact with the stormy eyes of his forevermore, wondering how dead he'd be if looks could kill because she had the deadliest eyes he has ever seen. No one, not Y/N, not Amara, absolutely not one had the same fury in their eyes as Caroline. She was unpredictable and perhaps that was the part of why she's different and why she might end the cycle....or it was because of years of mental torture her past lives had subjected her to.

„It's not just about that, Grayson! Okay?!“ And there it is, the avalanche he knew would come. She had been bottling everything in...if you could call it that, but despite her being openly discontent in the past, Grayson knew the look she held in her eyes wasn't a look of someone who simply shows their unhappiness, rather a look of a woman who's keeping in a storm – an enraged look she let out.

„Hey, guys! Darren is here!“ Ethan called out, his voice getting lost in the sound of crashing waves, but they heard him fine.

„NOT NOW!“ They both screamed in unison, allowing Caroline to spew fire.

„You keep saying you want to protect me, but every little bit of protection you provide only hurt me more! YOU FUCKING TOLD ME TO BE WITH ETHAN! And to make matters worse...I actually think I could survive the kiss. I don't think I'm going to die in this life and while I'm not particularly eager to die a horrible death, I'd still try because that's how much confidence I have in us.“ She stopped to draw in a breath, her cheeks flushed a darker pink, one Grayson would usually run his fingertip over, but he feared losing a finger if he tried at all.

„And then you tell me not to try this hypnosis thing? Literally the only thing that would let us be together?!“ She huffed, smacking her hair back against the wind.

„You...do you not want me?“ Her tone finally returned to normal, but it wasn't the normal Grayson had hoped for as he remained silent, allowing her this chance to blow off some steam. He had wanted the cheery, playful Caroline, not the defeated, vulnerable one.

„Is that what this is about? Do you not like this body? Or this personality?“ She began to list, making his eyes bulge and for the first time since she started this rant, Grayson had opened his mouth to speak against her.

„Absolutely not! I love you – all of you!“ He stepped toward her in his attempt to prove it so, but she stepped back at the same time, not wanting the contact because this is when her illness came to collect, convincing her she's not good enough...not for him. Convincing her he didn't want her. Not this version, at least.

„Then why do I feel like I don't measure up? Huh? How can you ever claim to love me, when I'm never the same woman you met in the past life? I'm never the same in any way, so how can you love me so unconditionally? Maybe it's just a pattern – a habit of sorts. Because I don't think any of us could ever fill the giant hole Y/N left in your heart and I may be mistaken but“, a choked sob stopped her mid sentence, not allowing her to continue as she looked away with tears in her eyes...those beautiful eyes, her lips thinning as they set in a firm line.

„But I don't think I am...She was the original and I...all of us were merely fading copies of the masterpiece you always wished to have. And as all copies tend to do, we're nothing like the original...no one can paint the same image thousands of times.“ She shrugged, taking note of his stunned silence and near desperation as a confirmation of sorts, one she knew he wouldn't utter but lingered deep in his subconsciousness.

She turned on her heel, walking back to meet with Darren. If she got lost in time, at least she'll make it worth something. Perhaps her breaking the curse at the beginning will give Y/N and Grayson the happy ending they deserved. Perhaps Ethan will be happier without ever knowing or losing Amara. Perhaps Cameron will be happier without chaperoning her brothers across the world and a new copy of herself who was probably the least favorite part of her immortality.

Wiping her tears away, she took in a deep breath – one that filled her lungs and set a bundle of oxygen running through her body and to her brain, clearing her troubled thoughts enough to make herself seem presentable for Darren. Otherwise, he wouldn't help her – any sign of instability and her plan is gone.

And then she saw the older man, her legs taking her to him faster and faster until she had her arms wrapped around him. She had the only man who believed she wasn't insane with her again and it did give her some solid ground to build herself back up again.

„You needed me?“ He chuckled, noticing the difference on her already, but remaining quiet about it.

„There's so much to tell.“

They spent hours talking, enough to explain everything, but not nearly enough for him to wrap his mind around it – especially when the fallen angel she spoke of was nowhere to be found.

„What if you can't come back from it?“ Darren questioned, his previously cheerful persona replaced with a worried man.

„Then I don't...Better than spending the rest of my life fighting visions of the past, alone.“ She bit on the inside of her bottom lip, gnawing on it as he eyed her carefully.

„Caroline...“ Darren tried, but he knew she made her mind up already. Anything he says will fall on deaf ears.

„Please. I'm ready. Just do it. Now.“ She pleaded, her hand atop of his, tightly holding onto him.

Reluctantly, he agreed, but not immediately. „Tomorrow.“ He said.

„Okay.“ She whispered, giving the man time to recuperate and put himself back together. She needed some time too.

Caroline sat on her bed, looking at her bare feet in thought. She could still see flashes of her previous lives whenever she shut her eyes close or with eyes wide open if she concentrated hard enough.

„Care?“ Ethan's voice broke her focus, stopping her from delving deeper into her mind.

„Yeah?“ Her voice is small, her tone weak. She's on edge and he sees it. He's gotten too good at spotting people's weaknesses and exploiting them for his own gain. But he also knew she'd appreciate him not commenting on it, so he didn't, even if he felt the itch to do so.

„Can I ask you something?“ He licks his bottom lip, coming closer to her only to sit on the bed across from hers...where her roommate used to sleep before jumping to her death.

„Always.“ She offered a reassuring smile, despite not knowing if she had anything left to offer to anyone. Ethan seemed to take it to heart, giving her a small smile in return, the best one he could afford to give without it looking forced.

„Do I stand a chance? If you come back and the curse isn't lifted, would you be mine?“ Ethan decided to put it all out there, make sure she knows she has choices and Grayson isn't the only one. And perhaps she was right, he did see Amara in her and it drew him in for she was so much alike her in too many ways for it to be a coincidence – more than any other version of her ever was. But Ethan found he loves the debris of Caroline's essence as well, even if those debris longed for his brother more than they'll ever long for him.

„I...I don't know.“ She was honest. A part of her was screaming no, because how could she ever love someone that wasn't Grayson? How could she love a man who looked like him, but wasn't him? How could she love a man she knew loved another that lived deep within her? But another part of her was wistful and it wanted Ethan and the easy love he brought with him. It was so effortless with him – no looming curses, no death caused by a simple kiss...he was kind and understanding, beautiful and thrilling and sexy as the hell he belonged in. But he wasn't Grayson...even if he would have made her life an unforgettable adventure.

„At least it's not a no.“ Ethan chuckles dryly, moving over to sit beside her, his weight shifting the mattress, tipping Y/N into him.

„I gotcha!“ He held onto her, his eyes immersed in hers as the panic of possibly falling fled her and he couldn't help but think how he wished Grayson wasn't around anymore. How he wished his brother was gone and he could have this chance with this incredible girl who would surely drive him insane five times a day, but he'd still be happy. He'd still count his lucky stars for having her in his life.

„I really want to kiss you right now.“ Ethan admitted, making her mouth go dry. She couldn't lie, she wanted to kiss him too. Just once, simply to know how it feels, to let him have that one kiss that would give him a piece of Amara back. She didn't want him to be miserable and she didn't want to be the reason why. So yes, she wanted to kiss him. But every fiber of her being told her not to.

„Ditto.“ She whispered, smiling as he frowned because he knew that if she hadn't replied with actions, but only words, she wouldn't do it. He knew her enough to know she's a wild one and considering her lips weren't on his, they won't be. Not for a while, at least.

„Look...whatever you see or hear tomorrow, make sure you come back in time, okay? If you can't convince any of us to bring you up, disappear. Don't let us touch you until you find a way out. Okay?“ Ethan repeated, swallowing thickly because he still remembered the horror of Y/N's death. It was gruesome and he never wanted for Caroline to feel it nor see it.

„I'll do my best, Mr. Bossy!“ She embraced him, her hands wrapped around him, hooked at the back of his neck as he buried his face in hers, inhaling her – all of her.

„Got time for one more?“ Another voice, one that sends chills down her back spoke, her eyes opening at the sound. She'd know his voice anywhere.

„I don't think it's the best idea.“ She detached herself from her favorite demon, a title she'd ever tell him about, only to wrap her arms around herself, needing an extra layer of protection despite the fact the hurt he causes is from the inside and there's not shield for those kinds of injuries.

„Please.“ Grayson's plea was the hardest thing she could ever hear right now, because he never just asked – he poured every human emotion into it, giving it weight of a hundred collapsing stars, wrecking her defenses.

With a nod, Ethan had decided to place a kiss on her forehead before heading out, respecting her choice. He didn't give up completely, but he respected her primary choice is Grayson at this particular time.

„You do know all those things you said on the beach are just a figment of your untamed imagination mixed with insecurities, right?“ He began, making her scoff.

„That's not an apology I hear, rather a start up for a new fight.“ She sent him a glare, one that meant he better stay in his position because if he came closer, she'd let her evil out.

„No. What I mean is, none of what you said is true. I never fell in love with your face, Caroline, although it's a very beautiful one. I never looked for body shapes – you've had them all. And yes, sometimes your personality is difficult to deal with, but I still loved you. I loved you because your soul is pure light that calls to me like a siren. If your soul hurts, I hurt. If your soul is happy, I'm happy. If you're feeling lost, I'm desperate. It's like two magnets, pushing and pulling in the need to be as one. Your beauty lies in the unchanging goodness of your soul and heart that can be a stubborn nightmare at times, but it never lessened the beauty. It never stopped calling out to me. I never stopped running to it when it did.“ Grayson sighed, deciding to be brave and step closer, brushing his knuckles over her cheekbone as she turned away from him.

But then she turned back, her eyes shooting up and connecting with his, her heart jumping out her chest with their proximity.

„I can't help but be insecure. You've known every dark, twisted, dusty part of my soul and you have so many memories with...me! But I don't remember most of them! It's like...Imagine if I dated a thousand versions of you and you didn't remember...It's silly, but I'm jealous and I'm bitter about not remembering. And I'm so pissed for being put in a position to be jealous and bitter about my own damn self.“ She stood up, stopping Grayson's breathing for the second time in a day, but this time she didn't try to kiss him anywhere close to his face. She just wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest.

„Just know I love you. Whatever happens, that can't change.“ She whispered, feeling him shift their weight as he laid her down on the bed, half his weight pinning her under but she didn't complain. She enjoyed feeling him on top of her, wanting not only a kiss anymore...she wanted him in every sinful way possible. She wanted to feel him around her, inside her, enveloping her entirely. She wanted to be his, just once in this damned life she was given. Just once.

However, without even knowing, she fell asleep to the sound beat of his heart, her mind in the gutter, but still on him.

The morning came too soon.

„Wake up, love birds. Time to do some time traveling! Curse breaking!“ Cameron clapped, ignoring the groans and grunts and their cutesy snuggling closer together. But even they knew it couldn't last, slowly getting up in silence, simply looking at one another. While Caroline was still convinced half the things Grayson told her last night were lies to make her feel better, she didn't care. She loved the way he lied, just as she loved him.

And she would fight for him.

Tags: @dancerwriter @peacedolantwins  @heeydolan @accalialionheart   @graydolan12  @xalayx  @fallinginlove-16 @deeteeeeevee  @heyits-claire @riverdalesserpent @dolandolll 

[queensdivas]

Family Christmas!

Alright Alright! Just got done watching 6 Underground and Jesus so many shorts and fics are coming. But of course after the requests and update on the great mazzello are updated. But doesn’t mean I can’t start the outline!!!

Thank you @not-john-watsons-blog​ for this request cause I thought it was super cute and just in time for the season!!!!! 

If you’d like to request something please do so and if you want to be tagged let me know!!!!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday this year!!!!! 

Masterlist 

Taglist!

@leah-halliwell92​ @mexifangorl​ @i-live-for-queen​ @its-funny-til-its-not​ @brianmydear​ @bonafiderocketqueen​ @filmslutt​ @queenwouldyourathers​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

The House of Christmas

By G.K. Chesterton

This world is wild as an old wives' tale,

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough

For our wonder and our war;

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings

And our peace is put in impossible things

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings

Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening

Home shall men come,

To an older place than Eden

And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star,

To the things that cannot be and that are,

To the place where God was homeless

And all men are at home.

Do I regret our elopement? No. Never in a million years do I regret our elopment in Blyth during his tour up around there. But I regret not being able to sit down to meet the rest of his family besides his mother. According to what I’ve seen in his photo albums. He’s got a bunch of aunts and uncles because his family is known for ummm. A lot misfire is exactly what I think is the right word for it. Now one of his Christmas presents I’ve unveiling tomorrow would be considered a misfire to most but to me I’m extremely excited. 

Our three hour drive was coming to an end as we reached his home just right outside Leicester England for some big Christmas Eve tradition that’s been breaking since he started with Queen. Which was three years ago so not only am I meeting most of his family for the first time, and not being around for three years, we’re kind of screwed! 

I rubbed my eyes a little as I sat up in the car to see John was tapping his hands on the steering wheel at the light. Gosh, it was only a three hour drive yet I felt like I’ve been asleep for about two weeks! 

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” John had his cheeky smile on as I looked over at him to then pull down the visor to make sure I didn’t look like absolute shit. We’re good! 

“Sorry I fell asleep. The car was toasty and you know that listening to really jazzy Christmas piano always makes me relax.” Going into my purse to apply a fresh layer of lipstick. 

“Relax Iris. You look absolutely beautiful.” 

“Yeah well I’ve never had to meet a family before with us being married already so you can understand my nervousness!” Growing up in an orphanage then not being adopted can cause a little different mentality. But no sob story! It’s family time! 

“Iris. They’re going to love you no matter because you’re the only women who has stuck by my side longer than most. Like c’mon you already survived a tour schedule like mine so I knew you don’t plan on making a run for the hills.” 

“That you’re aware of Deaks.” Smirking at him as we turned into the driveway of the house to see a bunch more cars were all lined up. Before we even climbed out of the car he leaned over to cup my face to start leaving kisses all over my lips then trying to make his way down my neck. Going to be honest we haven’t done the deed since I found out because I’ve been getting cold feet, not sure why. 

“John I don’t want to smell like sex meeting your mother.” I pried him off me with a little disappointment groan coming from him. He’ll know tonight and hopefully he’ll understand especially after the idea how I’ll be unveiling this idea. I got John pair of baby shoes, and his mother a cute onsie that says “Grandma’s spoiled angel”. Thought it would be appropriate and hopefully if things go well tonight they’ll enjoy the surprise. 

We climbed out of the car as we heard the house was blasting with Christmas music, laughter, and even the sound of popping champagne bottles. What kind of parties does this family enjoy throwing for the holidays? He grabbed the box of gifts as I wrapped my scarf around my neck as we began approaching the house. Before we walked inside I stopped in front of him as I grabbed the box from him, putting it down on the ground then giving him one long kiss. 

“I love you John. I know I’ve been acting a little funny these past few weeks. I promise it’s nothing you done because you couldn’t do anything. Except when you accidently dropped the coffee machine right next to my feet.” 

“For the hundreth time Iris it was a complete accident!” I always remind him that because seeing him so angry just makes me giggle! I cupped his face again for a quick peck as we saw the light coming from the house. 

“HEY! YOU TWO LOVEBIRDS GET IN HERE!” A women screamed as we let go of each other to then begin our journey into the world of what most people say a family hell hole. Never experienced one of these before so get ready Iris, a cultural shock is about to happen. 

We walked inside the house to see everyone condensed into the living room, children running all around the place, and what looked like an old man sleeping soundly on the recliner. How is that even possible. 

The whole room went dead silent as every single person looked directly at John and I with our layers of coats making us look stuffed. I gulped as I began unzipping my coat till a little girl came running down the stairs. 

“UNCLE JOHN!” She screamed as she wrapped herself around his leg. 

“My goodness Aurora you have grown!” He laughed as an elderly women came out of the kitchen in a minnie mouse apron. She starred down John as she came marching out of the kitchen, even the child walked away from John. Is she his mother? I’ve always been told (by Chrissy) that if a mother doesn’t approve of their chosen girlfriend then it’s game over oh my god! 

She stood directly infront of John as we both looked at her in absolute fear from the fact she might pounce at us! I light wrapped hands around his arm just incase I have to use him as a human shield to protect our child. Sorry John I love you but this baby is a whole lot more important and I know you’d do the exact same thing for me. 

“John. You’ve gotten much skinner.” Ya know what no! If I can carry a baby in my body for nine months then I can handle any mother come at me! Okay! Here we go! 

“Mrs. Deacon. I’m Iris. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you.” Coming from behind John to hold my hand up to her ready to shake it. She looked directly into my soul as she manuvered herself infront of me with a facial expression I couldn’t even read. She gripped my hand then placed her other one ontop of it. Is his when the mother pile drives you into the floor!? Oh dear God she’s going to kick my ass!

“It’s very lovely to meet you Iris. Please come and get acquainted with everyone. And please call me mom because Mrs. Deacon makes me feel so old.” She began walking me through the living room to see everyone making room for his mother and I to sit down. Looking back at John as he just stood there with his bag of presents in complete utter shock. 

“So Iris. I’ll try to quickly introduce everyone before I have to back to into the kitchen to make sure dinner isn’t burned to a crisp. Sitting on the reclriner is great grandfather Phillip. To the left of you is who you would consider your cousin Jessabell and her husband Thomas. They’ve got their children running around here somewhere by the names of Ezekiel, Nathaniel, and Esther. And then to your left is great aunt Piper and great uncle Samuel. Now their children are Booker, Sam, Tara, and then their youngest being Natalie. I’d tell you more but I have to get back into the kitchen.” Trying to remember all these names makes me feel drunk I can’t even drink a glass of wine to help me with this whole meet and greet. God is it weird I kind of need John to bring some sort of easiness at the moment. 

“It’s lovely to meet you all.” I squirmed out of my coat for John to grab it and place it behind the couch. He then sat down next to me as I grabbed his hand as he began smiling and greeting the aunts and cousins. 

“Wheres your family Iris?” I believe Aunt Piper asked if I remember correctly. 

“I umm. Never really had a family till I met your nephew..er if that’s the right word.” They leaned forward in their chairs so eager to listen. 

“Let me guess. It was one of those situations where you rebelled from your parents because of them not liking the beatles.” They laughed as my grip around John's hand went a little tighter. I know this stuff still shouldn't bother me but there’s a reason why I don’t enjoy talking about my past because I sadly don’t have one. But at the same time when I do have to meet family and they these kinds of things, I just enjoy coming directly at their necks with this line. 

“Well I wouldn’t know teenage rebellion since I never had parents.” With the biggest smile on my face as they sunk back into their chairs as I believe Aurora brought us two cups of water. She climbed up on top of Johns lap. 

“Are you my new Aunt?” She asked as I gave her a small nod. 

“Yes. I plan on being the coolest Aunt you’ve ever had in your life!” Grabbing her from Johns lap to put her on mine. I bounced her on my legs a little as she was laughing her little head off. 

“Dinner is ready!” His mother yelled from the kitchen as she darted off my lap into the kitchen. Everyone went into the kitchen as I sat on the couch with my thumbs going in small circles. I’m still extremely nervous and the fact that ham is now the main course and me being pregnant is making me nauseous. And trying to hide this from John is just the greatest idea I ever had in my existence! 

“Feeling better?” Nodding as the smell of that ham slithered its way into the living room and around my nose. My stomach twisted in every possible way but I took in a deep breath to try to hold it back. 

“Iris. Is there something you’re not telling 

“Are you two planning on joining us or run off?” I think that was one of his uncles came into the room as we got up from the couch to walk in. 

I sat down next to his mother as everyone began passing around the serving bowls of mashed potatoes, cranberry, ya know the usual Christmas meal. The rolls were placed infront of me as I grabbed one then the ham appeared before me. Oh boy. I bit the inside of my cheeks to grab one thing of meat and passed it along. Just keep it down! Crap I can’t even have wine to help with the whole stomach thing! 

“So John. How’d you find Iris?” The green beans were next as I scooped some onto my plate as John swallowed his roll he had in his mouth. I think they’ll enjoy our little meet and greet story yet I somehow find it a little embarrasing still. 

“I was out with the boys one night with a few of our first performances. She was at the bar with her friends and I noticed her from the stage. When we got done I started talking to her and well.” My cheeks were beginning to turn red from what was going to come next. 

“This guy came up and was trying to tell me that he already had eyes on her from the other side of the bar.. She punched him in the face when he tried to take my seat.” My hnads covered my face as all the eyes landed on me in complete embarrasment. He kept trying to take his seat what was I supposed to do? Just John get pushed around? Dear God. 

“You punched someone?” His great aunt asked as I slowly nodded my head. I promise I don’t believe violence isn’t the answer for everything. But he was literally going to throw John from his seat and I couldn’t just let that happen! 

“Awesome!” I moved my hands away from my face to see everyone nodding and then his uncle clapping at what I did. Phew. 

“So Iris. What do you do for a living?” His mother asked me as I ripped off a piece of my roll. 

“I’m an art teacher at St. Gerard in Basingstoke.” I began diving into the green beans as the rest of the table began chit chatting. 

“You know something Iris. It’s been quite sometime since I’ve seen John so bubbly and happy. Not sure if he’s told you that his father died when he was young, and when it happened he changed. Became a brand new person who was afraid to get too close to people. But now to see him here playing with his cousins, it’s really wonderful to see him smile. Enough about that depressing matter, you’re an art teacher?” I nodded as I leaned forward to watch John laughing with the cousin that I don’t think I’ve put a name to a face. 

“Yes. At first I just wanted to be an artist for most of my life, but found teaching much more fun.” 

“I used to be an artist. Maybe after dinner we can swap some sketches.” She smiled which made my heart feel all warm. 

“I would love that.”

The rest of the dinner was getting to know his family, turns out John wanted to be a race car driver as a kid, had a very large interest in all kinds of flowers, and threw his cat down the stairs to see if it would land on all fours. It worked of course because that cat lived on to hate John for the rest of his life. While they were telling me this, I could tell John was completely embarrased but I still found it absolutely hilarious. 

“Now John was a lovely child of course, but also extremely sassy which he got from his father more than me. I assume you know about his sassiness?” His mother turned to me as I smirked on his face. 

“Of course. Our first date was to see MASH and when the ticket person asked if he needed two tickets. He straight up told him. “Oh my god you can see her? I thought she was just a figmant of my imagination.” Then did that stupid cheeky smile and the guy almost wouldn’t let us in.” John nodded as his mother chuckled a little as I finished the last of my Christmas pudding on my plate. 

“Alright I say it’s time for presents!” 

We sat down in the living room where himself and his mother sat down with me on the couch as everyone grabbed their gifts. They all began putting their gifts in the middle of the room but no name much be attached, consider it a secret santa yet John and I had no idea. That tends to happen when you’re busy with music and being a primary school teacher. None the less were about to be a very busy family. 

The little girl began passing out presents to everyone as she was eager to open hers and even everyone elses. She placed Johns in his lap as he was eager to open his since his curiosity was going absolutely wild. I was given a small box that even got me a little curious as well because truth be told i wasn’t expecting to get anything from anyone. 

“We want you to open yours first Iris.” His mother told me as everyone was starring at me again. I ripped apart the wrapping paper apart to see it was a jewlrey box which kept me in even more suspense. 

“Even though you just became apart of the family with the rest of us, we’re glad you became apart of it. We thought John was going to grow old alone.” It was a beautiful cameo necklace with a dark gold chain, the pendent was a dark blue with a white marble cut out of a woman on it. I was almost brought to tears as no one in my life has ever given me anything like this before. 

“You..you..you’re going to make me cry.” I laughed a little as I got it out of the box to hold it up. 

“John. Should’ve told me you’re family was going to make me cry.” I laughed as he helped me to clip it as I kept looking down at it. 

“Alright let’s keep going! By the way. I’m cousin Booker from Exeter.” He crawled infront of me as he passed John his gift as he recognized the wrapping paper from our little apartment. The rest of the presents were passed out to everyone as John was in complete curiosity of why giving him the present now instead of on Christmas. His mother had the same wrapping paper as well as I sat there waiting for them to open it. 

We finally made it over to John who was eager to open his box. He tore the wrapping paper to shreds immediatly as I kept my smile at bay as much as I could. He’s not expecting this and I know damn well the rest of the lot isn’t as well! Please find the little shoes adorable please find the shoes absolutely adorable!

He opened the box as confusion waved over him as he picked up the little white baby shoes. Looking at me. Back at the shoes. TO me..the shoes..to me..the shoes! C’mon John I know you’re smart! The shoes dropped as the rest of the room waited for him to say it or for it to finally click! 

“We’re..you..we..” It looked as if he was going to pass out right infront of us till he pratically threw himself ontop of me as everyone began freaking out. 

“I’m going to be a dad!” He smiled as I moved the hair out of his face as cousin Booker pratically pild ontop of us. 

“Now do I get to be the cool uncle or what?” Wait what? That..that’s not how that works..at least that’s not how I think it works. Oh well! 

“Wait get off don’t squish the baby!” John barked as we looked over to see grandma holding up the onsie in front of her. 

“It says Grandma’s spoiled Angel!” Mother cried as I managed to get John off me to see her just starring at it. 

“Hope you enjoy being a grandma!” I told her as she put the onsie on her lap to give me a very big hug!  Her only son to have her first grandchild has completely made the fact that him and I didn’t have a true wedding has been completely forgotten! Phew. 

[longneckreach]

Threat Assessment

Aspis padded along in the wake of a battle-scarred Tundra and tried not to feel sick.

He didn’t try very hard.

He’d done his best not to learn the names of any of the hired muscle Nalkh had picked up for this raid. He told himself it was just because they were so obviously here as talon fodder; no point in getting attached, when they were all meant to die anyway. 

Meatshield, his brain whispered.

He knew that wasn’t true. If he avoided talking to anyone, he could keep pretending he was better than them.

Longneck Reach was...gentle. It felt solid and secure and natural, but there was a softness in the air. Okay, it was nerve-wracking walking the gauntlet of serthii, centaurs, and longnecks to get to the main den, but that was just because he wasn’t used to it. None of them had even spared him and his “partner” more than a friendly glance.

This really was a Wind clan, he thought, stomach twisting horribly. They took hospitality seriously. And they’d believed the Tundra, simple as breathing, when she smiled and said they were travelers on their way to hunt the Icefield.

Test their defenses, Nalkh had said.

These people were all going to die. They were all going to die and it was Aspis’ fault.

He’d expected it to be over before he had time to think; the Marrow Massacre wasn’t exactly known for wasting time. But Nalkh had meant what she said, back in that tent in the Wasteland—she respected the fact that this clan had allies, and that their martial strength might be exponentially more than it appeared on the surface. She respected the fact that they knew their own terrain; and they had contacts with the Resistance, as well. The Massacre was good, and Aspis didn’t think they’d been spotted; but with harpies and serthii and longneck scouts, they couldn’t be sure.

Not unless they sent someone in to test it, at any rate. And lucky Aspis got to be the canary.

The Tundra dipped her head. “I counted at least five unguarded entrances,” she murmured, voice dripping disdain. “These people are asking for it.”

Aspis flinched. When the other two dragons cast sharp looks his way, he passed it off as a sneeze.

Nalkh didn’t want to go in blindfolded, and if the Longneck Reach dragons had been on her territory recently, they might recognize any actual members of the Massacre. Aspis and the Tundra couldn’t set off anyone’s radar, because nobody knew who the hell they were.

And she’d been right. The Reach had no idea. 

Correct that, Aspis thought miserably. Not a canary. A Judas goat.

Their guide, a silver-blue Wildclaw with a calm demeanor and bright golden eyes who didn’t deserve what was about to happen to her, stopped by the edge of the watering hole and gestured around them.

“...should be enough to not get lost, we won’t make you sit through a full tour. We try not to torture our guests,” she added with a wink. The Tundra gave a blatantly false laugh, and Aspis belatedly tried to smile. The Wildclaw placed a casual hand-paw on the hilt of her sword and continued, with a friendly, knowing look at the Tundra, “If there’s anything specific you want to see, just ask anyone and we’ll find you a guide. I was just about to visit the armory, myself, ma’am.”

The Tundra’s dark eyes snapped into focus. That was exactly the kind of reconnaissance they were supposed to be performing. 

Anxiously, Aspis tried to make a quick tactical assessment of the valley. He supposed it would be hard for large species to maneuver deep in the ravine, and...and since most of the valley was bare shale and thin grass, there’d be no point in trying to burn anything but the crops…

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t think like this. But he had to…

Realizing the others were watching him expectantly, he jumped and said “Yes! Of course. Um, sorry. Whatever you want,” he told the Tundra, trying for the tone of a friend. “I’m up for it, you know that.”

The Wildclaw laughed quietly. “Good save,” she said as the Tundra glared at him behind her back. “But I see through you, young man. We have a few Bogsneaks here, we know what a young growing male needs and I haven’t fed you yet. Chavi!” She gave a short whistle. “Can you take our friend to the storeroom? We won’t be a minute!”

Suddenly, things did happen faster than Aspis could track. Before he fully realized what was happening, the Wildclaw had ushered his Tundra off and another, smaller Tundra had appeared at his side.

She couldn’t be more different from the two who’d just left. Neither a leonine battle veteran nor the crisp, polite officer, she was all shades of copper marbled with deep blue, with a panther’s grace and stillness as she watched him. 

“Um,” he managed. “Aspis. I’m really not hungry, actually.”

She smiled. “That’s fine. But your friend will be meeting us near the storeroom. Let’s go that way regardless, all right? No one will make you eat, or do anything you don’t want to do.”

That was...a strange way to phrase it, but Aspis nodded and followed her. They left the waterfall and the small lake behind, stepping out of the way as a Serthis working a pair of gale wolves herded a rambra flock down to the water. They walked back up the valley until Chavi flicked her ears toward a rough path carved into the canyon wall, and Aspis followed it up to the mouth of the primary den. The Wildclaw had pointed it out to them earlier, when they first arrived…

It was almost empty; just a Guardian and two Mirrors, and a single Longneck. The Guardian was the color of shale and muted goldenrod, draped in the sigil of the Beastclans. She looked like she’d been born from the cave stone itself, like she belonged here. The green Mirror lay between her paws like a kitten at the feet of a Sphinx; the Longneck sat cross-legged in a little alcove at the Guardian’s exact head height, as they spoke to one another quietly.

Immediately, Aspis’ mind whispered: Charge. He’d only met a few Guardians with a living Charge, but they all oriented toward the object of their devotion this way.

The other Mirror was dirt-brown and unassuming, her eyes as dark as the rest of her; unlike the green male she wore no armor, but her posture was tense and her eyes roamed in a perpetual threat assessment, tail-tip flicking every few seconds. A real fighter.

The Guardian looked down at Aspis as he stopped just inside the den mouth. Her voice was deep, like all her kind, but kinder than he expected.

“This is him?” she asked.

Chavi sat at his side, a soft wing gently brushing his shoulder as she confirmed it.

The Guardian gave a shallow, respectful dip of the head. “Hello, Aspis. I wanted to speak to you in private.”

Oh, gods, Aspis thought for a wild moment. They’re going to eat me.

Nobody seemed to be angry, or even stern, which was...weird, considering they’d obviously figured him out.

“My name is Adecia,” said the Guardian. She tilted her horns toward her Charge, then nodded toward the two Mirrors one at a time. “This is Jori, our clan coordinator; my mate Radec; and Ennis, one of our outriders. I want to assure you that you’re among friends here, and that you’re free to leave whenever you choose.”

“All...right?” said Aspis.

“How much do you know about Longneck Reach?” Adecia asked kindly.

Aspis had no idea what was going on. “Uh,” he said, wondering how much he could say safely. “You’re...a Wind clan? With ties to the Beastclans, obviously. Um...everyone kind of knows you support the Resistance, sorry if that’s supposed to be a secret…”

Ennis snorted, but it wasn’t an unkind sound, and Adecia gestured for him to continue.

“Um,” he said. “That’s...pretty much it.” Aside from one minor detail.

There were glances exchanged all around. This time it was the Longneck who spoke, sitting up and reaching out so that Adecia would lift her to the ground.

“The Reach was founded as a place of safety,” she said. “A haven for my tribe, in the beginning; we wanted to find a place far from the fighting, where we could live in peace. Over time, we found a lot of other dragons and Beastclan who didn’t want to live surrounded by fear and hate all the time. We wanted to create a place where we would protect one another.”

“A sanctuary,” Adecia said softly. The others, even the wary Ennis, dipped their heads in acknowledgement. “For anyone who wanted one. Including you. We’ve seen your kind of fear before, you know.”

He blinked. “You...you have?”

“More times than we can count,” rasped Adecia’s mate.

“How often does this kind of thing happen?” he asked, bewildered.

Chavi’s wing brushed his shoulder again. “Did you think you were alone?” she murmured. “There are millions who have been through this and come out the other side. We can help you, if you allow us.”

Ennis’ tail twitched violently; she curled it around her paws. “There’ll always be assholes who hurt others to feel stronger,” she said, short but fervent. “Their most powerful weapon is making you feel alone. With a pack, a clan, whatever, you always have help and you know it. It takes their power away. Not your fault. The first thing you do when you’re hunting is isolate your target.”

Aspis’ stomach was in knots. He didn’t know how these people had known, but this wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Perhaps sensing this, Chavi took a step to the side to give him space without abandoning him.

“We’re not trying to gang up on you,” she told him. “I can sense that you’re feeling overwhelmed right now, and we’re not trying to make decisions for you. But...when you’re ready to leave, especially if it’s today, just know that we’re here to help. And know that a mate who loves you won’t treat you this way.”

Something in Aspis’ brain stuttered to a stop.

“Wh—wait, what?”

“It’s why you weren’t challenged at the border,” said Ennis. “Oliver has a special protocol when anyone enters our territory smelling like fear. We only get one chance at a first impression. That’s why I didn’t talk to you either. Liendra’s better with, you know. People.”

“Oliver’s a Tundra?” Aspis guessed, since that was the only thing they’d said so far that he could make sense of.

For some reason, this caused the Reach dragons to exchange another long series of looks.

“Close enough,” Jori decided. Okay. Weird, but, okay.

Adecia cleared her throat. “The dragon you’re with told Liendra she was your mate,” she pointed out. “We’ve...noticed things that caused us concern, aside from the fact that Frank and Oliver reported you smelling afraid.”

“I bet you did,” Aspis managed weakly.

Chavi placed a paw near his, but didn’t touch him. “I’m an Earthsenser,” she said, as kindly as she could. “I know when people are being truthful. You were lying when you said you were fine, you were lying when you said you were eager to leave in the morning.”

“You go tense when she talks to you,” Ennis added, low and dark. “She moved to touch you and you flinched.”

“And we’re not fools, Aspis,” Adecia finished. Her eyes were sad. “We can see the marks as easily as anyone. Only some of them are from fighting.”

Like daybreak, Aspis finally understood what they thought was happening. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at how wrong they were, but at the same time, he couldn’t suppress the well of emotion that rose up at the realization.

All of this...he recognized Adecia’s name. He hadn’t known her on sight, but he’d been sent to infiltrate her clan. He knew the name of its leader.

The clan leader, her administrator, her mate, and two of her scout-sentries. Ennis was clearly a serious fighter, Chavi’s earthsense was a rare power and she moved like an advance scout; both of them wore Resistance badges...

He swallowed.

“I, uh,” he said. “Let me...get this straight, okay? One of your border guards...smelled that I was scared?”

“He’s a customs inspector,” Adecia corrected. “We don’t have border guards. But yes.”

“And so he changed to a completely different protocol, and told you,” he said, turning to Ennis. “And you ran and found someone with better people skills to guide us in, and then went and found someone with a powerful magical ability to help keep an eye on us. And then when you thought something was wrong, you went and told…” He looked back at Adecia. “You’re the clan leader!”

“I’m really only the executive officer on the Council,” she demurred.

“You’re still...and you have your mate, and I know he’s the scout captain,” though once he said it out loud Aspis realized he wasn’t supposed to know that. “And your clan coordinator, and...and both of you are obviously important to the Resistance...and you all took the time to arrange this without tipping your guests off, just because...you think my mate is hitting me?”

Adecia’s eyes softened.

“Of course.”

Heart shattering, Aspis thought in despair: Alumette would have loved this place.

She would never see it. Even if he went along with Nalkh’s raid, Ali would never have a home; the bandit queen was right, they’d never be able to leave the Marrow Massacre, not really. They’d just end up dead or captured again. And was that what Ali would want? Was he doing this for her, really, or for himself—because he couldn’t bear to lose his sister?

What would Ali want him to do, if she were here? Did it matter? And why should he care, anyway, that these people had just moved mountains because they were worried about a stranger? That shouldn’t have anything to do with it. 

Locked in a parched cell in the Wasteland, murmuring back and forth to Kpinga in the dark, he’d always insisted that the one thing the Pit couldn’t take was his identity. That he had to remember there was always a choice, that no one could turn him into a monster. It shouldn’t matter whether they were kind to him, it should matter that they were people...

He’d been willing to let them all die.

“Adecia?” he said, mouth dry, throat tight. “There’s something you need to know.”

[kalula-illychina]

Shalom!  I am coming to you with great news for the Israeli people. You may have noticed but Israeli elections were last night, and mazel tov, we succeeded in bringing the right wing to victory and our glorious King Bibi is here to stay! You know, we're Likud, the same right wing that brought you Miri Regev, the loud mouthed and basically unpleasant woman who wants to create a cultural monopoly on Israeli arts and culture, such as instituting a Loyalty check on any speech that threatens our dear right wing Zionism and basically fucks over free speech, the same people who brought you the insane incitement since 1993, which lead to Yitzhak Rabin's assassination for even trying to reach peace with those Arab neanderthals (serves him right for betraying our country ), the basic free market economy which has not only jacked up housing prices, but also blatantly leaves the underprivileged of Israel in dire straits to where some family's can't put food on the table for their kids (But screw them ammirite?). We're also known for bringing about the nation state law, which has not only relegated our Arab and Druze citizens to second class citizenship, but we are also known as the people who still drag their feet in the sand for coming up with a two state solution to where Israeli and Palestinans can live apart and in peace.  You know, instead of giving the Palestinians their own land to live in, we have been doing other things that are quite wonderful!  You know, cutting off aid and electricity to the Gaza strip, bulldozing homes, praising IDF soldiers who shoot unarmed Palestinans, and even prosecuting a little girl for giving one of our soldiers the bitch slap! Not only that, we are also the government that bows down to the needs of our lovely Ultra Orthodox and far right partners, such as Naftali Bennett and Eli Yishai, who basically refuse to share any of the burden of running and protecting the country and instead sit on their asses and leach off the taxpaying Israelis.  Good deal, is it not? Not only that, we allow these far right wingers and Ultra Orthodox to influence out policy, including not drafting them into the IDF, or basically rolling back and preventing any rights to the LGBT+ community, including preventing any Gay couple in Israel from having children through a surrogate, while brazenly praising Israel's pro-LGBT rights to the international stage.  Yes, you can have your cake and eat it to! Not only that, we are also bringing you our glorious leader, who will not waver in the face of danger!  Who cares whether he let the Gaza war of 2014 drag on, basically doesn't give a flying shit about the rise of white supremacy in our closest ally's Country, and openly embraces racist leaders like Donald Trump and Jair Bolsonaro!  It's all about the money, right? Not only that, who gives a shit about his numerous accounts of corruption and his crazy wife having a ball abusing the household staff and the lay-about- lazy shit of the son who posts antisemitic memes to get at leftists and hits up strip joints?  They're the family who protects the country, so let's let them do whatever the hell they way! Of course, we need your help.  We need your help to stay in power.  You can do this by three steps:

Act surprised when someone calls the right wing out about incitement and racism.  As long as you see nothing, there is nothing!

Make sure to spread the word.  It always helps people when you tell them openly why you are letting this government dramatically transform Israel from a pluarlistic democracy to an almost apartheid hell hole state.  They're just Arabs, so what difference does it make?

Make sure to always remain loyal to Bibi.  Make songs about him to sing with your kids, or make it to where only the right wing has the right to talk.  Make sure to openly brand anyone who says anything ill of Netanyahu and the right wing as an "arab lover," or a "traitor."  Words are power you know!

Of course, Israel is heading towards a bright and glorious future!  Make sure that we are all part of it, as long as you're a right wing Ashkenazi Jew or Settler!  Shalom!

(Authorized by the Department of see nothing say nothing.)

NOTE: In case you all didn't notice, this is obviously sarcastic and in the form of TheJucieMedia's honest government ads

[rasa-rising]

The Seekers’ Arrival

(~2,263 words, 10 minute read)

“... huh.” Lieska reared her head as she heard a rustle from somewhere nearby. She was standing guard at the edge of the sinkhole in her usual spot, where she had deemed she had the best view over the whole area. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her wings and eyed her surroundings. There, some hundred meters from her in the thick foliage, a large shape lurked in hiding. Following it, a second one, similar but slightly smaller in posture. Passersby were common, a lot of dragons shared the area with them, but these two seemed… different. Strange. Unfamiliar. And they were inching closer to the sinkhole.

Lieska lowered herself into the ground, keeping her eyes on the intruders, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. She restrained herself, though; Isla had told her numerous times that all new dragons were not inherently a threat, and that this was a safe haven blah blah, everyone was welcome blah blah. As the guardian of the lair, Lieska had a fundamentally different view, but had agreed out of respect. 

Now though, as the shapes creeped ever closer, Lieska actually got worried. They were definitely not just passing, she realised, as the strange dragons leaped from the bushes and started expertly climbing and jumping down the steep cliffs of the hole, approaching the bottom at a rapid pace.

The sight of the huge, furry monsters threw Lieska for a loop at first. They looked like… she shook her head to get rid of the ridiculous thought. In no way could Brandr be related to whatever these things were. 

Lieska stood up straight, arched her neck and let out a thunderous warning roar. It echoed through the sinkhole, bouncing from wall to wall for several seconds. The intruders barely even took notice. They reached the sinkhole floor with a massive thump, shaking the ground and sending some nearby hatchlings running and screaming. Without a word the strangers glanced at each other, nodded, and started wreaking havoc on everything in their way. Hefty paws ripped holes in lair walls, tore branches off trees and sent piles of boulders flying with no sign of effort or hesitation. 

The now furious guardian had taken off from her post and was beelining towards the attackers, ready to sink her teeth and talons into them with lethal force, when something small, quick and nimble rocketed right past her and skidded to a halt with spread wings only an arm’s length from the strangers. “HEY!” yelled Baldur. The clan leader had arrived in the nick of time. “Stop what you’re doing immediately or face the wrath of my most skilled fighters!” He landed on a large rock and took a battle stance. No one, not even dragons three times his size, could terrorize his lair without consequences. As if to emphasize his words, Lieska landed behind him with a boom, her weight making the ground around her crack. 

The intruders paused to look at him with disinterest. Then, the bigger one spoke with a low, rumbling voice: “Listen. We’re only here to do our job. You are all in grave danger and should vacate the premises immediately. Make haste.” She was about to carry on with her task but Baldur intervened. 

“What in the Windsinger’s name – do you even know where you are? I’ll have you know, our sinkhole is perfectly peaceful and protected and –” 

“Then why does it reek of the Shade from miles away?” the smaller one roared, “we were sent here on a priority mission to find and contain one of the biggest, smelliest, most dangerous shade creatures in all of Reedcleft Ascent, and we’re not going to stop before this threat has been eliminated for good. Now please get the hell away from us unless you’re all protecting this vile thing. In that case we’ll have no choice but to fight the whole clan.” 

Baldur stared in silence for just a second as his brain put two and two together. He still couldn’t parse why these behemoths were currently turning his home upside down, but he got a feeling he knew what ‘vile thing’ they were trying to find. He folded his wings, raised his head and commanded the attention of the furry rage machines with a loud cough. 

“A-hem! If you could just halt for a moment and listen to me, please. I think I know what you’re talking about.” With those words, the destruction stopped. Baldur was met with two extremely suspicious stares as he continued: “Rest assured that there is no immediate danger from what you seek. You can stop ravaging my lands. Just give me a minute and I’ll explain.” He bounced off the rock and turned to face Lieska. 

“Stay close”, he murmured, “and keep guard. I have the situation under control now but I need you at the ready if anything happens.” Lieska nodded, sat down and snorted out a small cloud of smoke, never taking her eyes off the potential enemy. 

Baldur cleared his throat and let out a high-pitched call, almost a whistle. For a moment nothing happened. Then, out of a hole in a large tree, a tiny dragon appeared. With a few flits of its wings it reached the others and sat down in front of Baldur. The two exchanged a few muttered sentences and a great deal of crest movements before turning back to the newcomers. Baldur sighed.

“Alright, let’s try a calmer approach this time. My name is Baldur, this is my mate Isla. We are the leaders of this clan. Now if you could kindly introduce yourselves and state your business without destroying any more of our residents’ homes, we would appreciate it greatly.” 

The outsiders looked at each other, then at the Mirror and Fae sitting in front of them, then back at each other. They nodded, and the bigger one spoke again. 

“I am Rokia. He is Vard. We are Gaolers of the Seeker order.” Rokia paused to observe the reactions of her listeners before continuing: “Our kind was recently sent out into Sornieth to capture Shade creatures. We are certain that such a creature is lurking nearby. That is why we must act quickly to ensure it doesn’t escape.” 

Baldur looked at Isla, whose crest had drooped lower and lower as she listened to the Gaoler. She let out a deep sigh and spoke in her usual, monotone voice: “I know what you’re looking for. I can lead you to it. But you have to promise that you will listen to what I have to say first. This situation is not simple to explain.” 

***

As they made their way towards the other side of the sinkhole, Isla did her best to make the Gaolers understand the picture as a whole. She chatted away to the best of her –  unfortunately subpar –  ability, and Baldur filled in where her words fell short. 

“You see, Myrkur has been with us for years. In all that time it hasn’t hurt anyone. Of course we mostly keep it locked up and away from everyone else. But I can’t see what the harm is in keeping it here”, Isla kept repeating, “and I have even seen some progress with my rehabilitation attempts. Nothing groundbreaking, nothing that would allow it to get outside its cave. But at least I don’t constantly get screamed at when I visit it anymore.” 

Baldur pushed open the door to the cave’s hallway. Isla skittered in, Rokia and Vard bowed their heads and slipped through the low entrance after the two. Torches lit the short path that curved to the left and out of sight. Somewhere near, a soft, steady hissing sound made Vard’s fur stand on end. Rokia shivered. They stepped forward, turned the corner and came face to face with the most gruesome sight of their lives so far. 

There, in the darkest corner of the small cell, crouched the source of the hiss. It was vaguely draconic in shape but something about it was off. Something about it was constantly changing, as if its form was not completely solid. Its wings seemed to be composed of thin, rippling layers that moved and shifted by themselves. In what were most of the time its front paws it held a spherical item, and where its face should have been was just a void of darkness under a black... hood? The hissing got louder. 

“This!?” Rokia growled, “this is the creature you speak so fondly of? The abomination you wish to protect? I am disgusted by the very concept!” 

Myrkur’s hissing was getting louder and louder. Vard looked at it with equal disgust, rage and fear. “There’s no way we can let this horrible… thing stay here. It’s a clear danger to everyone around it and belongs at the Fortress of Ends”, he spat. Myrkur’s hiss had turned into a high pitched screech. 

“I agree”, Rokia almost yelled, “I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re going to have to take it. Step aside –” she was stopped by Isla, who had flown between her and the cage door and was now hovering inches from Rokia’s face. She had to push herself to get her voice heard above Myrkur’s increasingly loud screaming. 

“You will not take Myrkur from me!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, “I will not let you! This creature has never hurt anyone! It was born here, it has the right to stay here! Myrkur is like a child to me – a strange and ominous child yes, but this is the only home it has ever known and you can take it away over my dead body!” 

The last threat could have been hilarious – Isla was barely the size of Rokia’s paw – had the Fae not been so stone cold serious. Rokia looked at her cross-eyed. Isla looked back with all the emotion she could muster on her tiny Fae face. It wasn’t a lot. Myrkur’s scream fizzled out. It was silent. Finally Isla spoke again. 

“Look. Give me a chance to show you. Baldur, please leave us alone. Go check on the clan. You two, go stand in the hallway behind that corner. Be quiet. Listen.” She shooed the others back and stayed behind in the cell room. When they were out of sight, she turned back to Myrkur. The Gaolers held their breath in waiting. 

“Myrkur”, Isla said softly, “Myrkur, it’s safe now. Just me here. Don’t be afraid.” Vard could barely stifle a snort. Afraid? That thing? He rolled his eyes at Rokia who shook her head in response. Suddenly they heard something neither of them could have expected. 

A croaking, wheezing voice from the cell. It didn’t speak any language known to them, but from the way it sounded it was trying to form words. Some croaks were shorter, some longer, with different combinations of sounds. Gone was the hissing and the ear piercing screeching. Isla kept talking to the creature and the creature seemed to respond. The Gaolers listened in stunned silence. 

When Isla emerged from the cell room she put a finger on her lips and ushered everyone out. Closing the hallway door, she sat down on a branch and tried her best to look proud and victorious. “See. I told you”, she beamed just as Baldur rejoined the group. 

Rokia and Vard looked confused and slightly embarrassed. This was a new situation to them, and there was no protocol that they knew of to handle it. They excused themselves and huddled together to think. 

“You know what we should do”, Vard started, “this is definitely a Shade creature, a big one, exactly the kind we have explicit orders to bring back for safe keeping.” 

“I know”, replied Rokia with a pained expression on her face, “but you saw what happened there just now. What if this Isla is right? What if it really can be healed? Cured? And what if she is the only dragon in all of Sornieth who can do… that.” Rokia glanced in the direction of Myrkur’s cell, still trying to wrap her head around what she had witnessed. 

“Leaving it here would still be neglecting our most sacred duty”, Vard said. Then his face lit up a little. “Unless…” He looked at Rokia. 

“We might have to correspond with the higher ups about this, but I think I have a plan.”

***

The Gaolers returned to Baldur and Isla who were politely waiting out of earshot. Vard took a deep breath and spoke: “We have come to a conclusion. We will let you keep your abomination on one condition. The beast can stay, but we’re going to stay too.” Rokia continued her mate’s sentence: “We must be allowed to carve a space for ourselves in the immediate vicinity of this creature and reside here for as long as we feel it poses a significant threat.”

Isla looked at Baldur, moved her crest up and down a few times and nodded. Baldur bowed his head and huffed. 

“Fine”, he muttered, “You can stay. But we also have a condition. You will apologise to the dragons whose homes you demolished and help us fix what you broke when you first crashed in here. After that’s done, we will help you find a suitable spot for a cave.”

For the first time since their arrival, Rokia smiled. “I think we can do that”, she said, and Vard agreed with a resolute nod. 

Isla flared her crest and fluttered her wings in glee. "Wonderful! Welcome to the Clan!”

[djmayday]

S.p’s Shocking Tale!

(look man, i had too, the pun was waiting for me asdfg)

Words: 4258-ish  hh-

ok, for once, i had genuine fun writing something, its not my best, but its good practice asdfghgfddfgh

also fair warning, its not horribly graphic but like,,, action scene (a single one asdfgh) that mentions some weird/bloody, idk lol, i need to practice more asdf

enjoy?

It was nice day.

S.p was soaring through the spring air, her wings spread out wide and her hair flowing in the breeze as she flew over the city. Today was a good day she thought.

In between the big jobs Timara gives her, S.p helps out her aunt’s package delivery service. Right now she’s got only two to do for today, but it was far out away from where she’s used to.

‘Uuughhhh, this is gonna take forrreverrrr,’ S.p groaned to herself, she looked back down on the label on the smaller box, hoping that maybe it magically moved where she needed to be closer. Nope, instead all she saw was the dark iridescent boxes shine in the sun, the name of the business in light pink/purple cursive and a M.p signature near it.

The label read ‘Madame Pink’s Delivery service.’  S.p couldn’t help but smile a little as she remembered who she was helping. It was short lived though as she realized she wasn’t flying over buildings anymore, just a field. She quickly stopped and did a double take. Then took out a little compasses on a string out of her pocket and got a good look at it.

“No, I’m still going north,” She mumbled, taking another glance around before shoving the compass in her pocket. She quickly took off her necklace that was tucked into her shirt, it had a rather large pearl looking piece on it. Holding it out by that pearl, it glowed purple for a moment, before creating a holograph revealing someone with their back turned.

“Uh, hi auntie,” S.p said, the figure gasped and turned around.  

It was the mysterious Madame Pink. She held her fan so it covered most of her face, except for the eyes.

“Why, my little angel!”  Madame joyfully exclaimed, “Have you already delivered those packages? That was rather fast,”

“Uh, noo,” S.p admitted, looking a little flustered, “I think I’m like, very lost,”

Madame’s eyes widened a little,“Oh my, that's quite the predicament-,”  She closed her third eye for a moment, then continued, “Pray tell, can you describe to me where you are?”

S.p looked around again, “Uhhhhh, not a place with buildings,”  S.p stopped when she heard her aunt giggle,” Hey, what’s funny?!”

“Oh do you not remember?  You’re on the path to the edge of the mountains, it’s the right way my dear,”

S.p blinked, “Oh-” then her face scrunched a little in annoyance, “Oh, the mountains? But that’s like, soooo farr aunite!!”

“Now now child,”  She said as she tapped her forehead, “I know you have ways to get there faster than anyone else I know, you’ll be fine, just be sure to protect the boxes when you do it,”

S.p’s ear drooped a little and she sighed, “Ok…”

“Excellent, now if you excuse me, I have to be on somewhere, as you do as well,”

S.p perked up, “Okie, bye auntie! Love you!” She said with a big grin while holding up a peace sign.

“Take care, my little star, ta-ta~!”  Madame said as she waved, the holograph faded, and so did the glow on the pearl, ending the call. S.p put the necklace back on, tucking the pearl back in her shirt.

‘Alright, a faster way, huh?’ S.p thought as she looked back down at the packages, they both went to the same place, but to different people, ‘Guess that means it’s time to break another record for fastest travel eva!’ She said as her hands glowed a soft yellow, which passed over to the boxes, covering them in a magical coating before fading, making the boxes look normal again. She flew down to the ground, and got into a flight-ready stance.

Focusing all of her thoughts on what she wanted to do next, she started to be filled with energy. Little flicks of lightning shot off of her as she stored more energy, her hair floofing up a little as well. Then…

BOOM!

A huge explosion of energy sent her flying up into the air as a lightning bolt. Her wings straight out, letting her glide through the air. The world rushed past her in a colorful blur of greens, yellows, and the occasional blue. S.p made a mental note to get a gopro with her pay after the trip for when she flies.

‘Or maybe just beg Molly for it…’ S.p thought to herself.

Despite her speed, she could still faintly see the plains below, and there’s no building in sight, not even a road. Just… grass. There wasn’t even any trees.

‘Who even moves out this far?’ S.p thinks.

After a long while of flying, she eventually felt her energy falter, and she begins to slow down, she had to start flapping her wings again to keep from crashing, which isn’t an easy transition.

“Yipe! This never lasts long enough!” She exclaims, she held the gifts closer to her chest, making sure she didn’t drop them. Soon enough she got back into balance, and could glide a bit more, but it wasn’t nearly as fast.

“I gotta ask T how to make that last longer,” She mutters.

Luckily for her, she could see a dirt road below. S.p looked forward and finally saw a humongous mountain that stretched and faded into the clouds. And at the bottom was two dark blobs.

“Finally freakin build...ings,”  S.p slowed down to a halt and squinted. When in focus, one blob as definitely a building, a bit creepy but it had a roof and all. The other though… well… S.p’s eyes couldn’t focus on it for some reason, and everytime she could get a clear glance at it, it was... something else, something just as menacing thing as the last.

“Welp, not that one, I ain’t that dumb,” S.p says as she flies to the other building. Which wasn’t that better than the blob, if she was being honest. The building was worn down, as if it hadn’t been used in years; Nature was reclaiming it with vines everywhere.

She lands in front of two big metal doors, both rusted to hell and back. With a nervous gulp, S.p knocks on one of the doors with a nice loud thunk. The doors partially opened when she did.  S.p stood there for a few moments wondering if she should pull a ‘person in a horror movie’ move and go in.

S.p thought for a second,  ‘Auntie would kill me if I came back full handed-’ She sighs, ’- and I can't just waste that stupid long trip,’ she thinks as she pushes the doors open and steps inside. On the inside, it looked ransacked and barren; Boxes were emptied, barrels pushed over, etc.

Making sure not to stand far away from the door, S.p calls out, "Uhh, hello?"

No answer.

"Helloooo?" S.p calls out again, walking deeper into the warehouse. Something wasn't right, it seemed a lot smaller on the inside.

She stood in what she thought was the middle of the warehouse, when she heard a crash behind her, making her jump and her wings spread out instinctively.

It was the doors.

They slammed shut.

Breathing heavily, she looked all around her, trying to find what or who shut the doors.

Nothing. This place was empty.

Was.

Cause the next thing S.p heard was a gun cock.

"Freeze!" Yelled the stranger.

S.p froze, and slowly turned around to see the person. It was a young man in a basketball tank top, with blond hair that faded to dark brown, he also had raccoon ears that were also blond. He had two different colored eyes. To S.p his left eye was red, and his right eye green. He also had bandages wrapped all around his arms down to his hands boxing style.

There was a moment of silence between the two, both of them were scared, you could see it on their faces, but neither were backing out.

“Who the heck are you??” S.p finally said, slightly cringing at how loud she was. To be fair, she couldn’t quite hear herself over her thudding heartbeat.

The boy looked confused and lowered his gun slightly, “Who the heck are you?”

“Um, I asked first?”

The man sighed and his ears went back in annoyance, “...Toby,” He raised the gun again, “Now it’s your turn,”

“M-my name’s S.p!” She exclaimed, forcing back as much stuttering as she could.

Toby put his gun down and into his holster, “The hell are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same to you, but I’m just a delivery person!” S.p exclaimed, sounding more enthusiastic than she felt.

“Well, I’m here on a search for a friend that went missing,” Toby said, looking around as he talked,  “You didn’t happen to see to douche-y lookin’ dude around, have you?” Toby asked sarcastically.

S.p shrugged, “Just you so far,”

“Fuck you,”

“Hey! That wasn’t an insult!” S.p said, finally calming down a bit, she thought for a moment, “Hey, maybe we can help each other,”

Toby’s ears perk up and he tilts his head, “How so?”

“Well, we’re both looking for someone, and I have a feeling that they’re both in the same place,”

Toby hesitates, “I- well… Fine, it’d be better than searchin’ this hell hole alone, I guess,”

S.p grinned, “Cool cool! Let’s get movin’ then-” There was a small crash, making both of them flinch horribly. Toby got his gun back out, which was still cocked. S.p listened very carefully for what made the noise

There was nothing but silence.

Toby ears twitched and moved, also trying to find any sign of something weird.

Soon enough they heard another quiet bang.

“That way,” Toby whispered, as he walked in the direction of the noise, S.p following close behind, clutching the boxes close so they wouldn’t make a lot of noise.

The two found themselves at the back wall of that room, carefully approaching a door that was slightly open. Toby hesitated, but reached out for the door handle.

A crunch made him stop.

S.p had stepped on something, slightly panic-y she lifted up her foot to see what it was, it was just bag. The both of them sighed in relief. S.p quickly picked up the bag and put the boxes in it, ‘It’ll be quieter, and safer for the boxes!’ she thought to herself.

Toby rolled his eyes, before opening the door slightly and looked inside, “No one’s in there,” He whispered, before motioning for S.p to follow as he went in.

Both of them couldn’t help it but stand still for a moment, surveying the room.

It was a long hallway at a slight angle going down. It was looked as if someone had looted it; Bookshelves looked like they were thrown, paper, bags, and all sorts of stuff scattered on the floor, and there was a random stove flipped over and scratches all around it, yet nothing seemed missing. The chaos of the hallway went until it was too dark to see tdown the hallway.

Once they got a good look, they continued onward.

“It’s like someone was looking for something,” S.p whispered.

Toby’s ear twitched, “They still might be,” he said as he pushed a button that was on top of his gun, it turned on a flashlight that was built into it, it gave off pretty decent light.

But it revealed that there were smears of bright color on the walls, that and a ton of scratches. S.p gulped and wishfully assumed it was paint.

The farther they walked the more narrow the hallway got, and the more empty it was too, except for the constant scratches and color. It couldn’t even be called a hallway anymore.

“What… is this?” Toby said, “Why would a warehouse have this?”

“It’s a hide-away tunnel,” S.p said as she got nervous, she recognized this sorta thing from her mom, and things involving her didn’t always end well. The familiar concrete walls made her breath catch in her throat.

“How do you know?”

“I-... just do,” S.p said, doing a little fake shrug.

Not really satisfied with the answer, Toby looked back forward. S.p could feel the tension in the air, neither of them really trusted each other, but Toby seemed a lot worse.

So why not break the ice a little?

“What’s your friend like? Apart from being a douche,” S.p asks.

Toby thought for a moment, his ear twitching, “He… was very full of himself, although I’ve always thought of that as a better than when he lacked self esteem,”

“Call that ‘growth’ where I’m at,” S.p said light heartly.

Toby had a sliver of a smile on his face, that is until he stepped into a pile of something, with a unsatisfying ‘glorp!’, “Ugh! Gross!” He cursed as he quickly stepped out of it, “The fuck is this??”

S.p looked at the pile, it wasn’t shit, it was the same rainbow stuff they had seen on the walls, “It kinda looks like, puke almost…” She mumbles to herself.

He grunts before pointing ahead at more puddles/piles, “Lookat this, there’s tons of it! What sick freak pukes rainbow till their lungs go out??”

“W-whatever lives there, probably,” S.p whispered in horror. The two of them reached the end of the tunnel, it led to a large, empty room. They stood at the entrance in awe, it was massive!

Slowly, Toby put himself in a battle ready stance and walked into the room, S.p reluctantly following behind. Their steps echoed off the walls, if there even was any, the room was pitch black, except for Toby’s light, which basically only revealed more puddles of colors on the floor.

Breathing began to get harder for S.p, her heart was racing so hard that if you listened close enough, you could hear it clear as day.

They heard a slither behind them, Toby pointed his gun in that direction, but saw nothing.

“What are you doing here?” A voice called out, it sounded cold and unwelcoming, it’s voice boomed and echoed off the walls.

Another slither went behind them, they stood back to back to each other this time.Toby was aiming his gun at basically everything and S.p was scared stiff.

“Have you come to take my prey?” It called out again, in a more mocking tone. Now the slither sounded like it was rounding them.

“Show yourself!” Toby yells out. His, light caught the end of something.

A tail?

Not just any tail, a snake tail.

S,p was already shaking horribly, but even Toby started to buckle under the stress. They felt a presence loom over them in the dark.

With shaking hands, Toby followed the tail up, and soon met a menacing face, glaring down the two.

S.p couldn’t help but gasp and hide behind Toby, making the figure laugh.

“My my~ What are two children doing here?”  They asked, leaning down to get a better look at them. Their face was half human, half reptile, with scales decorating their face. Their eyes looked just wrong enough to send chills down Toby’s spine.

“You know, it’s rude to enter my home without permission,” They continued, getting closer. Now their eyes were in the light, which reflected off their pupils in dozens of colors. You could see color dripping from their mouth onto their chin.

“In fact,” Their tail shuffled, revealing that the part of the tail that was still hidden in the dark was holding two people who were tied up, “I was in the middle of something~”

Toby looked at one of the people and gasped, “Jake!” He looked back up at the creature while it laughed, “Give. Him. Back.” He growled.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” They said as their laugh became maniacal.

Suddenly they slammed the people hard into the two, sending all four of them flying. Toby’s gun went flying too, leaving them all in the dark.

As quickly as she landed, S.p got up panting, “T-Toby?!?!” She called out breathlessly.

Slithers and echos of laughs from all around made her head spin. In a panic, she focused her energy into her right hand, and shot a lightning bolt into the dark. It lit up the room for a moment, and it was enough to see Toby’s gun.

Instinctively, she started to dash for it. Just as she grabbed it she was pulled back by her feet, making her chin collide and drag on the floor. Then she was held up in the air, the creature’s tail wrapping itself around her and letting the blood drip onto her face, she couldn’t even shoot the gun if she wanted to. They laughed as she struggled.

She couldn’t breathe.

She was panicking.

Then, animal instinct took over.

Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

That’s all her brain told her.

She sank her teeth as best she could into their tail. And refused to let go, even after they had basically dropped her.

Then she held onto their tail with all her might and released all that energy and electricity with a powerful scream. You could see their shadows on the walls from the light it emitted. The creature screamed in pain and convulsed, which knocked S.p off and onto the floor. Practically knocked out from the drain

The creature twitched and convulsed still, struggling to catch its breath. When they heard the footsteps of the others, they growled and skittered away.

In the corner of S.p’s eye, she could’ve sworn she had saw natural light, but at this point the world was spinning, so she couldn’t really be sure.

Toby came running up to her first yelling, “Fuckin’ hell, dude! Are you alright?!” S.p only whimpered in response, before passing out completely, “Shit!” Toby exclaimed, “Hey, Jake, other dude! Help me out here!”

Running up came two dudes; Jake, a young man who looked about Toby’s age, he always wore his signature red hat, even in dark times like this. The other without a name was a rather old fella, in a now ruined cleaning suit, he had a badge on him that said ‘Finoe’ on it, so that must be his name

Jake quickly got to work, helping Toby carry her on their shoulders, they struggled, though, carrying someone knocked out is harder than you think.

The other dude ‘Finoe’ was clearly in shock; shaking knees and wide eyes, but he spoke up in a whisper, “Do you… know her?”

Jake looked over at Toby and tilted his head, Toby sighs, “Not really,”

“Then who the heck is she?” Jake asks.

“A delivery person, and your hero,” Toby stated blankly, “In fact I saw the bag right about there,” He says as he points his flashlight-gun at the ground, showing the two boxes in perfect condition.

Finoe quickly ran over to it and scooped the boxes up carefully, “This… This is what that thing was after,”

“Well what is it?”

“It’s... A form of magic dust, that thing made order some for it,”

Jake blinked, “Oooooh, that’s the stuff that powers your gun, right B?” Toby simply nodded, then Jake continued, “But why would it need it so bad it made you order it?”

Finoe visibly shivered, “It has drug like properties when consumed, it’s why you can only order one at a time, I had to use two names,” He sighs, “I’ve never wanted anything to do with this damn powder in my life-”

“Well,” Jake interrupted, “Like I said, we use that stuff for our own things, it’s our job, we could take it off your hands!”

Finoe thought for a moment, “When we leave, I’ll give it to ya,”

And with that, they off up the tunnel, to safety.

…

…

…

S.p woke up to soft sunlight and back pain, as soon as she tried to get up, someone pushed on her forehead gently and kept her down.

“You’re hurt, stay down,” S.p quickly realized who it was, it was Toby! A wave of relief washed over her, and she calmed down a little, that is until Jake popped up right by her.

“Hey, you’re not dead!” Jake exclaimed, making S.p flinch, “Hey so ummmm, the dude over there - His names’ Finoe- he’s cools, said that he knew someone who’d come pick us up and help us, so he had to borrow your necklace thingy, sowwy,”

“Normally I’d say if someone said that, it’s a scam, but he’s proven himself, I guess,” Toby added on. S.p couldn’t help but giggle at that, Toby seems so much different when he’s not serious. S.p eyes trailed to the floor though, and saw that Toby’s leg was wrapped up too, she also noticed he had a raccoon tail that was blond with dark brown rings, dang, how’d she miss that?

She went to speak but her throat was practically killing her, she had to hold it as she spoke, and the only thing she could really get out was a simple, “Wha-?”

Jake shook his head, “Yea no, I don’t think you’ll be talkin’ for a while, you screamed SUPER loud when you were shockin’ the fuck outta that snake beast thing-”  he got super close to her face, “By the way- that was epic, how the hell did ya do that??”

“She’s just got the witch’s blessin’,” Finoe said, walking over to the group, “Anyone in that family is bound to have some strange power,” He holds out S.p’s necklace, “Here, I had to borrow it to make a call,” S.p nods and puts the necklace back on, tucking it into her shirt once again.

Then there was awkward silence between the four of them.

“So, Finoe, what exactly is this place?” Toby finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm? Oh! This was my lil personal research area, that place next door was what I was observin’,” Finoe said happily, “Also, there’s no need for formalities, call me Fin,”

“Wait, the area next door? That...blob?” Jake asks and tilts his head.

“Exactly! It’s an anomaly, and Ms. Timara asked me to observe, at a safe distance of course,”

“Heh, overshare much? How do you know we’re not some enemy to her?” Jake snarks, Toby hits him on the back of the head.

“Well,” Fin points at the badge that Toby was wearing, “All fetchers wear that sorta badge, and I know it’s not the most fashionable, so no one’s wearing it willingly,” Toby looked away sheepishly. Fin then pointed to S.p, “And this lovely lady is quiet well known considering she’s paired with Timara’s A-rank, Molly-”

“WHAT?!” Both the boys yelled out, it made Fin jump and S.p covered her ears at the sudden noise.

“So that’s why she could do that, holy shit!?” Jake jumps up and really gets in S.p’s face, she’s visibly uncomfortable, “That’s sick as fuck!” Toby tugs on his shirt, forcing him back a few steps.

Holding her throat again, S.p speaks up, “I’m just…..C-ra...rank” she croaks. Her ears drooped a little at the sound of her voice.

Jake had sparkles in his eyes at this point, “Um and?? You’re being trained by The T and her almost top class, like yo! That’s epic!”

“It’s definitely quite a high place to be at your rank,” Toby adds on, Jake nods furiously.

Fin playfully nods as well, “Yes ind-” He’s interrupted by the fwoom of smoke, and the overwhelming smell of lavender. The four of them turned to where the smoke is coming from. Out from the shadows of smoke came the one, the only,

Madame Pink. With her fan in hand over mouth, she gracefully glided from the smoke.

And her ghost ferret-like familiar came from the smoke as well, looking alert until it finally saw S.p. Then it rushed over and tackled her like a puppy would, licking her face in excitement. S.p giggled and pet the lil ferret, soon it decided to just wrap itself around her like a scarf, back legs on one shoulder, front on the other.

“Hi, aunt,” S.p manages to say, putting a grin on her face.

Madame looked over at S.p and gasped, looking dreadfully worried, she quickly rushed closer to S.p, kneeling to get a better look at her, “Goodness dear! I knew you weren’t in best of shape but...” She quickly shook her head and sighed, “It can be fixed,”  She gets back up and turns to Fin, “Thank you for letting me know of this Fin,”

Fin nods, “Thank ya’ kindly dear, although you must thank these boys though, they were the ones that got her out,”

Madame looked over at them with a harsh but not mean stare, “Is this true?” They both nod, Jake keeps glancing back at the ferret, which is eyeing him down. You can’t see her mouth, but you can tell that Madame is smiling,” Well then, it would be rude to not heal you all as well,” She walks towards the exits, and motions for them to follow, “Come along now~”

Like little kids, Jake, Toby, and S.p followed close behind like little ducks, talking about how cool Madame is and talking more about themselves, (Well, S.p tried to anyways…) and Fin walked at a decent pace behind them.

In a fwoof of smoke, Madame sends everyone to her home to be healed.

This was the start of a pretty weird B-team, but no one was complaining, so we’ll just have to see what adventures they get into next.

The end!

WOWZA THATS A LOTTA WORDS

AND A LOTTA LORE

WOOP I TRIED, TANKS FOR READING

uwu

[officialleehadan]

Black Scales and Open Spaces

“Everything here can kill you, but I can do it the most efficiently.”

+++

The ballroom came to a stereotypical screeching halt as the hard-edged, snarling voice cut through conversation like a knife.

Immediately, five officials converged towards the Thraxxis ambassador and her mate. The tripedal creatures were new to the Alliance after their crushing defeat, and prone to forgetting that they were no longer the most dangerous thing in any given room.

Vree watched the whole thing in mild astonishment. He was only here at the invitation of Human-Amir (who was apparently higher-ranked than he thought) and was doing his best not to offend anyone.

“Shit,” Human-Amir spat. He grabbed a passing official. “Who let the Thraxxis talk to Lord Petros? Tell the Sheikh what happened. Go!”

The official blanched white and took off at a run.

Vree turned alarmed eyes on the rising confrontation. Lord Petros? Human-Amir spoke of him in cautious, respectful tones, but this was the first time Vree actually SAW him.

He was tall for a human, Vree decided warily, but did not look terribly odd otherwise. He had the black hair and brown skin of a desert human, and toxic-green eyes. His garb was appropriate for the fine evening, and he was unornamented, and unarmed.

The humans were talking fast, two attempting to hustle the Thraxxis away, and three more, who seemed to be falling over themselves to apologize.

“What is the problem?” Vree asked Human-Amir quietly. His human friend was decidedly nervous.

“Don’t know, but whatever has Blaec mad enough to threaten is serious business,” Human-Amir muttered. He nudged Vree. “We’re too close, if this gets messy.”

Lord Petros held up a hand and immediately all three attending humans fell silent. The woman on his arm- almost certainly his mate- offered them a smile, but it looked cold, even to Vree.

“If the ambassador from Thraxxis has something to say, he should say it,” his voice snapped like a cut cable, and hissed oddly. “What precisely did you mean by your comment? The one regarding my wife, and your eagerness to study her kind?”

“Oh hell,” Human-Amir went a sickly sort of grey. “They brought Evelene into it. They’re gonna die. And we are WAY too close.”

He pushed at Vree more pointedly, and Vree noticed more humans ushering others out every available door.

Anything that had the humans running was bad business. Humans didn’t run from much, including the things that actively tried to eat them.

Vree went for the door at a quick trot, and resolved to find out more about this Lord Petros, and why the humans were so careful around him.

They were too far to hear more of the encounter, but when Vree looked back over his shoulder, he realized that the officials had abandoned their mission and were pounding for the doors at a run.

The Thraxxis, apparently, had not gotten the message. The ambassador’s spines were raised threateningly, and her mate stood steady just behind her.

Unwise.

With a snarl, Lord Petros changed from a tall human, into a mountain of black scales.

Vree’s legs went to jelly, and he grabbed for the wall, eyes fixed on the spectacle before him.

The ballroom could easily fit a human destroyer within it’s cavernous hall. It was designed as a place to build such ships, before the humans turned into a place for events like this one.

It was barely big enough to accommodate Lord Petros in his true form.

Black wings stayed furled, but they rustled and shifted, and still nearly brushed the ceiling. His tail coiled around the hall and the top lashed furiously.

A thousand meters of dragon had a very particular sound. The bone-click of scales and the furnace-rumble as he took slow, angry breaths.

Fire glowed between the scales of his throat, and flickered behind his teeth.

“Say it again,” the creature- hissed. His voice was like a volcano erupting, and the sharp scent of burning metal filled the hall.

A scrap of white fluttered just between his eyes- Lady Petros, unconcerned by her husband’s transformation and apparently accustomed to this behavior.

Vree stood frozen, unable to move and shivering. His hindbrain screamed for him to run, but his legs refused to do so.

“I always forget how big Blaec is when he’s like this,” Human-Amir whispered. He clutched at Vree’s arm. “It’s been a while since I saw him at full size.”

“Is he going to-“ Vree didn’t know what he was going to say, but he got an answer nonetheless.

The Thraxxis said the wrong thing.

The dragon’s head snapped down like a snake. His jaws came together in whump not unlike a ship crashing into solid rock.

The Thraxxis vanished without so much as a mark on the floor to show what happened to them.

“Well that happened,” Human-Amir said shakily. “I hope Grandfather will talk him down, or the Thraxxis are going to have a bad time.”

“Grandfather?” Vree managed to squeal out the word, his eyes fixed on the dragon. When the humans said how big he was, Vree just assumed they were exaggerating. Humans did that sometimes.

They were not exaggerating.

“Me,” a lone human walked pat Vree, in the tradition dress of their homeworld’s desert. “If you intend to stay, Grandson, do so quietly.”

“Yes Grandfather,” Human-Amir said (surprisingly) obedient. The old human nodded and forged down the stairs, calm and deliberate.

“Grandfather Al-Mudhib is a djinn,” he added in a whisper to Vree. “He’s as old as Blaec- or maybe older- neither of them know which of them is more powerful. If they fought, they might rip a hole in reality.”

Black spots floated across Vree’s sight, and his hearts pounded out of sync. Just the thought of that kind of power-

“Blaec,” the ancient human said, without raising his voice. Vree marveled at his calm, considering what just happened. “I trust the insult to your honor has been satisfied?”

“I am undecided,” the dragon growled, although he seemed to coil in on himself. It took a moment for Vree to realize that he was shrinking rapidly. In a matter of moments, there was a human where once a dragon stood. “The insult is satisfied, and yet the threat to my Treasure remains. How do you suggest I answer it?”

“With fire, as always. How else?”

“And the peace?”

“Leave peace to the humans. You and I are kindled for other things.”

Vree never knew what made him do it, but he stepped forward, despite Human-Amir’s whispered protests.

“Lords,” He croaked, and knelt when they looked at him. Before he dropped his eyes, he got a glimpse of Lady Petros’ smile. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t about to die. “Our alliance is hard-won. I beg you-“

It wasn’t his nature to beg, but these beings were gods compared to him, and there was no shame in groveling to gods.

“Please- let us have the peace we fought for,” he continued, speaking to the floor because it was less likely to eat him. “I am not human, but I know some, and while your people are fierce in war, they love peace- as do we all.”

“That was very eloquent.”

Soft human hands lifted Vree’s chin and he discovered Lady Petros smiling down at him. She was lovely, for a human, and all in white, with black scales decorating her throat and ears.

Her husband’s scales, Vree realized.

“You argue for peace for a people not your own,” she murmured. There was a burr in her voice that Vree recognized from Human-Nerea. Lady Petros must be a mermaid. “More gracefully than those practiced at it, and even though you are afraid.”

“Peace is important,” Vree laid his ears back nervously. He didn’t like having the attention of these great beings on him alone. “Important enough to say something. ...please don’t eat me.”

She laughed and turned her eyes on her husband. “My love, I am never from your side. I will pass the word to my nieces, and all will protect them. Let this alliance have its peace.”

Lord Petros wavered, and finally smiled. Vree tried not to breathe. It mit change his mind.

“As you will, beloved,” Lord Petros bowed to her wishes. “I will withhold my fury, for now.”

“Thank you, Lord Petros,” Vree said shakily, and started to breathe again.

He might just survive today after all.

“As you say, Blaec,” Al-Mudhib said agreeably. He folded his hands calmly and Vree dropped his eyes back to the floor. He didn’t know what a djinn was, and he didn’t WANT TO. “Shall I go and reassemble the guests?

“Might as well. And you-“ Lord Petros fixed his gaze on Vree.

Vree resisted the urge to shrivel into the floor.

“Vree, Lord Petros,” Vree said to the stone floor. “From planet Ha’reet, of the Fetar system.”

“My wife is right, Vree of Ha’reet,” Lord Petros said cooly. “You argue eloquently for peace. Join us at our table. I wish to hear your thoughts on other things.”

Vree gripped his own tail and tried not to cut and run.

This was not what he had in mind when he came to this party!

+++

HGE - Smoke before Fire

The Legend, The Rumor

Deep Water and Scales

Black Scales and Open Spaces

Screams in the Dark

Warning Lights

Into the Wild

HGE - The Others

Through Shattered Glass

Sea and Sky

Fire District

+++

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[seducemedoofus]

A Different Story Part 3 [Final Part]

Part 1 Part 2

Approximately three days after her last confrontation with the incubi boys, she had replenished her energy and sharpened her weapons, Mika Anderson drew herself a pentagram and sunk into it, appearing in the threshold of the house.

Letting out a breath, she put a hand to her chest, surprised to feel her heartbeat calm and steady.

Mika smiled, why would she be nervous or even scared? She had been preparing for this moment for months.

A calm settled over, smoothing out her features and giving her an air of invincibility. 

Mika reached behind her head and grabbed her twin swords she had when she first came here, her hair back in its normal braid.

Placing her right foot in front of her left, she took in a breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes and settling her arms at her sides. 

“Enjoying the moment of peace before all hell breaks loose?” Erik said from the banister of the stairs.

Mika opened her eyes and she found Erik, hand placed and firm against the wood of the banister.

She smiled a feral grin. “Then it would feel just like home for you guys.”

“I’d rather not go through that again.” She heard Sam say. Mika saw him come out of the west wing of the house.

Damien appeared from the hallway at the top of the stairs, the east side of the house. “That’s why we’re going to fight.” 

“Fight for our right to stay here.” Matthew finished for him, going to stand beside his brother.

James came out of the study to her right. “Let’s see if you can beat us, Miss Anderson.”

Mika gave a mock bow, flourishing her sword. “I will try my best.” She straightened. She saw the boys tense up, waiting for her to make the first move.

She smiled, extending her arms from her sides, her silver blades glinting in the light from the window above the double doors of the entrance. 

The window.

With insane speed, Mika sheathed the sword in her right hand, grasping the handle of a small dagger and flinging it behind her back, praying it will land blade first in the glass.

The shriek of glass being broken and pin drops of it crashing to the floor confirmed it.

As the incuboys were distracted with the fallen glass, Mika flung a hand outward, using a spell to knock someone backwards at dangerous speeds.

For an incubus, specifically Matthew, it wouldn’t cause death, most likely scratches and cuts, if she’s lucky, knocking him unconscious.

As the spell was traveling towards Matthew, Sam glanced over to her and saw her hand outstretched and aimed at Matthew. 

Guessing what she was doing, he sped up the stairs, crashing into Matthew to send him to the floor. At the last second the wall behind him gave a boom and left a crater in it, debris cracking down and hitting the floor, sunlight shining through. 

If Matthew would have been hit with that spell, a Matthew sized hole would have been left in that wall.

Grunting in annoyance, Mika didn’t notice until it was too late that a towering purple tentacle swing back and send her flying towards the wall.

Her instincts taking over, she muttered a few words, slowing her speed and allowing herself to arrange her body so that her feet will land on the wall instead of her side. 

When her feet planted down on the cool concrete of the wall, she pushed off of it, sending her back towards Erik. 

Both long, silver blades in her hands, she slashed at the two tentacles nest to Erik, cutting it by the middle and sailing over the incubus’s head. 

The sound of them hitting the floor gave her a slight relish, but she didn’t have time to stop for James had two golden pistols in his hand, firing at her with no mercy. 

Dashing across the tiled floor, she heard James shout for Sam who appeared in front of her in a matter of seconds, fists flying towards her. 

His fist successfully met with her jaw, her reeling back as shoots of pain raced around her mouth. 

Abandoning her blades at her feet, she lifted her arms and joined Sam in his dance of violence. 

Mika landed a few punches to his chest, never hitting above his torso. 

The whish of bullets had stopped, probably because James didn’t have a clear shot of her and didn’t want to risk hitting his brother instead. 

Letting the activities of the other boys distract her, she gasped in pain when she felt Sam grip her arm tightly and swing his foot underneath her legs, letting her crash to the ground.

The same trick Mika did to him.

Grimacing, she fought for Sam to get off of her.

Mika heard the click of a gun and her eyes widened. 

She seized Sam’s shoulders and rolled them over so she would be on top of him, her legs straddling his torso...

And Sam being in direct line of the bullet flying from James’s gun.

When Sam let out a growl of anguish as the bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, Mika scrambled back from him, pressing herself against the wall. 

Keeping her hands smeared with his blood to herself, she wiped her palms on her pants.

One incubus down, or rather injured, four more to go. 

Mika felt the gust of wind as daggers wedged themselves on either side of her head and next to her arms on the wall behind her. 

She saw Matthew standing on the top of the banister, James rushing down the stairs to Sam, his pistol on the stairs, Damien was gone from her sight, Erik too. 

Mika’s attention was on Matthew now.

She clenched her fists, feeling them grow warm and unbearingly hot. 

She reached towards her head, snatching the handles of the blade and flipping them over so that the blades rested in her palms, the silver growing red from the heat.

A second after the blades had left her hands, Damien’s voice echoed around them shouting. “Matthew, duck!”

Matthew did as commanded and a shadow replica of Damien appeared in front of Matthew, taking both of the daggers to the head.

“Damn you, Damien!” Mika shouted to the oblivion that was the incubus.

A voice responded to her, his voice low and dangerous. “You tried to kill my brother.” 

Mika calmed the heat in her hands, instead mouthing a few words and it replacing it with flames. “Your brother tried to kill me.” 

“We did nothing to you.”

“You did plenty to me.” 

“Your grandfather offered to help us!”

“And he died because he helped you!” There was so much anger and pain laced in her voice, everyone was knocked speechless. “He died because he helped you and look where he is now! He is six feet in the ground!”

Erik whispered her name. “Mika...”

“Do not say my name.” She rumbled, fists growing more hot with every passing second. “Do not ever say my name, my grandfathers name, my family’s name ever again!” And at that moment, Mika stomped her feet, throwing her head back.

Fire swirled around her like a tornado, reaching it’s peak, it blew out towards everyone.

Mika closed her eyes as the warmth left her, feeling the fire die in her hands.

“Mika, we don’t want to fight you,” Sam managed to say, trying to sit up, but fell back down with a grunt as his shoulder bled more and stained his green letterman jacket.

Mika lowered her head so she made eye contact with Sam and smirked. “So sorry, but I want to fight you.”

Mika Anderson continued to fight the five incubi brothers, her strength fading rapidly with every spell she used, ever dagger she threw, with every breath she took, she was becoming weaker, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

The bullet wound in Sams shoulder made his fighter slower and more sluggish, but he still landed a few hits on to Mika when he timed it right. 

She managed to knock Matthew unconscious, causing Damien to hover over him protectively. Erik had a few cuts on him but was other wise unharmed because of his tentacles that he used to block her attacks. James was in bad shape, having only one arm to aim his gun with, dried blood covering his lips.

Mika, though, was in the worse condition, While she may have started off strong, she was only human. And what was a human next to not one, or two, but five incubi, still powerful, even when they’re not at full strength? 

Nothing.

Mika went down when one of Erik’s tentacles grabbed her by the ankle and flipped her over, slamming her down on her right arm.

A shriek came from Mika, full of pain and anguish and sadness. 

She lay panting on her side, her right arm broken and twisted at an odd angle, and let tears of pain and frustration leak out of her eyes. 

Her midnight hair came undone from her braid and now lay around her head and over her eyes.

All motion from the boys stopped as they took in the broken grandchild of their savior from the Demon World.

“Mika...” Sam muttered quietly.

“No,” Mika manage to say. “N-No,” With her other hand, she pulled herself into a crouching position.

A constellation of cuts were littered across her arms, the legs of her pants were cut open to reveal gashes, her arms had imprints of tentacles and streaks of blood, her face...

Her face held the eyes of a sad woman, blood dripping down from a cut on her temple. Her bottom lip was cut and quivering. Her cheeks had specks of dried blood mixing with salty tears.

“No,” She said again. “I don’t want to hear pity, I don’t want to hear regret, all I want to hear are your last breaths.”

“Mika,” James said.

“I said before to never say my name,”

“Mika!” James yelled. “You are in no position to say such things. You are at our mercy, and thank goodness we have some because for others you would have been dead for hours now,” Mika met James's eyes. “So you will listen to us.”

Mika bowed her head, refusing to look at him, but she listened.

James took a breath. “We did not kill your grandfather.”

MIka opened her mouth to say something but James cut her off.

“We did not kill your grandfather. We did not harm him with our powers, we did not get someone else to hurt him in anyway possible, we did not do anything else that you might think we have done to your grandfather.” James was a silent a moment to give Mika a moment to let this sink in before he continued. “Someone else killed your grandfather.”

Mika stayed silent, shutting her eyes tightly, a few tears slipped out.

“She is a very powerful succubus in the Demon World. She was after us after we slipped out of the Demon World into the Human World since she was set to marry us.

In order to pass into the Demon World, you need a host, or someone to hold on to to pass into this world. It also needs to be someone who has experience in magic.

That person was your grandfather.”

Mika now was sitting back on her heels, her head shaking slightly side to side.

“He was either to weak to support a sudden passage into the Human World or too weak to support a powerful succubus such as herself or she used too much of his energy to let herself through, I don’t know. But, after she passed through, he died, immediately.

You thought it was our passage that killed him, but it was a powerful succubus that caused his death.”

Mika’s head was shaking furiously now. “I don’t believe it, I don’t want to believe it. That-that for months I was going after the wrong people. I spent so long doing everything I could to stop you guys, to kill you guys, because I thought you killed my grandfather but it was actually some bitch-ass succubus!” She leaned forward, cradling her broken arm and leaning her head against the cool marble.

A moment of silence passed before Mika spoke again. “Are you telling the truth, James?”

“I am.”

“Do you swear that what you have just told me in the span of these minutes are true and honest? That no untrue word passed your lips?” A warm glow began to appear around Mika’s body, twirling itself around her then swimming through the air to surround James. 

“I swear that I am telling the truth.” He said.

With a choked sigh, the warm glow faded.

And Mika began to cry miserably.

“I’m so sorry,” She sobbed out. “I nearly killed you, I wanted to kill all of you. I hated you for what I thought you did, but the only person I hate now is myself.”

Nobody moved.

“I know none of you are ever going to excuse what I did, I might have killed Matthew a-and I-I injured all of you and I was so close-”

A hand touched Mika’s shoulder and her head shot up and looked over to who did it.

Sam sat on his heels, his eyes looking at the hand placed on Mika’s shoulder. “We don’t want you to hate yourself. But we also can’t forgive you right away.”

Mika nodded and closed her eyes, tears still free-falling.

“But,” Sam reached a hand out and brushed a tear away from Mika’s cheek gently. “That doesn’t mean we won’t forgive you.”

“I really don’t want you to. I don’t want you to pardon what I did, to forgive me. I want you guys to hate me, I just don’t want you to hate me forever,” She choked out.

“And we won’t, Mika,” Damien said from his place next to Matthew. “Also, you didn’t kill Matthew, he’s just unconscious.”

Mika let out a small laugh, the tears slowly coming to a stop.

“Thank you,” She said. “I’m going to leave, to give you guys time to heal and to...hate or forget or do whatever you want to do,” Mika placed a hand on the ground and stood up, swaying on her feet.

She extended her unbroken hand towards the empty floor in front of her and-

Her hand was gently pushed down.

She looked up to see Damien with his hand gently wrapped around her wrist. 

“You’re in no condition to travel anywhere. If you used the last of your energy to teleport who knows where, you’ll collapse on the spot,” He said softly. 

“But-”

“You’ll stay here and rest, just as we’ll be doing,” Damien said firmly.

“But,” Mika faltered looking around at everyone. “Are you sure?” She whispered.

“We wouldn’t have stopped you if we weren’t sure, princess,” Came Erik’s reply.

“I- Thank you. If you guys need it, you can take my energy to heal and get back to full strength.”

James started. “We can’t do that-”  

“Actually we can,” Erik shot his brother a look. “Thank you, princess. What ways can we take your energy?”

Mika shrugged but winced at the pain shooting through her broken arm. “Anyway is fine, I don’t care which way,” She said through clenched teeth.

Erik tossed his hair out of his face. “Oh, really? Then we can-”

“Erik, no,” James sighed.

Erik chuckled. “Alright, but I do intend to take you up on that offer, princess.”

Mika nodded idly, not really paying attention to Erik but instead looking to Matthew. “Is he truly okay?”

Damien followed her line of sight and nodded. “Matthew will wake up once we force some food and water into him.” 

“Maybe I could-?” Mika trailed off and a pink tendril of light flowed from her hand, dancing through the air towards Matthew. It snuck into his parted lips and with a heave of his chest, Matthew’s eyes flew open.

And Mika’s shut tightly as she leaned on to Damien, the last of her energy spent on reviving Matthew.

With a grunt, Damien hauled Mika up into his arms, taking care to arrange her arm carefully on her lap.

“I’m going to take her up to her room,” Damien started walking towards the staircase.

“Damien, wait,” Erik called. “Is this really a good idea? She did try to kill us,”

Damien looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms. “Trust me, and her, she won’t try anything like that again.”

Everyone was silent as Damien carried Mika up the stairs to her room. They didn’t know that this will be nothing more as a small speck in something much bigger and happier in the times ahead.

And everyone was willing to give the small girl with the midnight hair and fierce determination a chance. 

This is the last part to my three part story of A Different Story.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fanfiction.

I had fun writing it.

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Daniel 7:4

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael. Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by Gatwick Airport's free wifi and also sheer spite. Mine, not the airport's.

I'll only be able to be online on my phone for a couple of days, until I sort out my Internet key because wifi is still a mirage where I'm going. So I might be slow to reply to comment - but I'll get to it as soon as I can, I promise!

***

“I-- I didn’t mean to! He came out of nowhere-- I couldn’t brake on time-- oh God I never go that fast, I don’t know what came over me…!”

It sure had been a bad crash: as they ran up to the scene, Crowley could see that the car’s windshield was shattered and the bonnet crumpled by the force of the impact. A shame, that: it had been a nice car. As it was often the case with traffic accidents, there was a lot of confusion: the cries of the distraught driver, a small crowd of bystanders stopping to watch in horror, a few people trying to help and screaming for someone to call an ambulance. 

The person closest to Gabriel was a woman kneeling over his mangled form - hands hovering over him but without touching anything, the way humans do when they desperately want to help but don’t know how. Aziraphale had always found it endearing: without realizing it, they were holding their hands exactly the way an angel healing the sick would. 

“A doctor!” she was screaming. “Is there a doctor here? Anyone?”

“We’re doctors,” Aziraphale spoke quickly, causing Crowley to roll his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses; it’s not a clever lie to tell when you have just stepped out of the shop you have owned for something like two hundred years. Luckily, angels and demons both had a knack for getting mortals to believe them if they just willed it hard enough. 

“I’m not touching him,” Crowley muttered as the woman stepped back to make way for them, only to be entirely ignored. 

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale called out, turning Gabriel’s face towards him. He was alive and conscious, at least, eyes wide and fixed on him. He tried to speak, but he could only cough up frankly concerning amounts of blood. His legs were bent at an odd angle, too, and stark white bone poked out of his left arm; the shirt he had just miracled on him was in tatters, asphalt embedded in his skin. “All right, all right - could be worse. I’ll heal you.”

“Why?” Crowley asked, and lifted his hands quickly at Aziraphale’s exasperated look. “No, I mean it! Have you considered that if he dies, he might just-- go straight back to Heaven? I would be a win/win. Wouldn’t he want that? Hey, Archangel Fucking Gabriel, nod if you want that. Or, uh, on second thought, do not. I think your neck is broken. How about you blink?”

Put like that, Aziraphale supposed it would make sense. He probably wouldn’t return as an angel the way he used to be, but he would at least be home… or would he? “We don’t know that,” he muttered. “For all we know he might go straight to Hell, given that-- oh, don’t look at me like that!” Aziraphale protested, looking down to see Gabriel had somehow found it in himself to look offended, even with his face and… just about everything else a literal bloody mess. “You were cast out, and-- and--” Ah, they really had no time to argue, not with so many people around to watch and an ambulance approaching. “Crowley, can you buy us time?”

A sigh. “If I must,” Crowley muttered, but raised a hand without further ado, and snapped his fingers. Everything and everyone around them - time itself - came to a standstill. “There. Now we can end him without witnesses.”

“Crowley.”

“Just kidding.”

“No, you were not.”

“Mostly kidding,” Crowley admitted. Truth be told, the only reason why he wasn’t being very serious was the sheer relief upon finding out, in the most unexpected way, that not only Aziraphale was not in danger: somehow, he was under the direct protection of God. 

Not bad, that. It looked like Gabriel, the insufferable first of the class, had already received due punishment for what he’d tried to do to his angel. So maybe he shouldn’t give him an easy way out, after all. He may as well stay and face the music, live like the humans he so dismissed. And, as a perk, Crowley would take every chance to make the experience just… a little bit worse.

Unaware of his thoughts, or perhaps able to guess them all too well, Aziraphale sighed and looked down at Gabriel. He was still, like everybody else, staring at nothing. It did make him easier to deal with, Aziraphale though, and proceeded to pass a hand over him for the second time in less than a couple of hours.

Ghastly as they looked, the injuries were made by mortal means, and closed much more readily than the deep holes on his back had. Within moments the bones were set, the neck straightened, the wounds closed. Gabriel’s eyes maintained that distant cast, of course, but he’d be fine as soon as time restarted. 

“Well, you’re welcome,” Crowley muttered sarcastically. 

“He can’t talk. His mind is frozen in ti--”

“What, you think he’d be thanking you if he could?” Crowley groaned, and stood. “All right, let’s drag him back in. Then we come back out, restart time, and convince everyone the car only ever hit a pole.”

“Sounds sensible,” Aziraphale agreed, miracling away the blood on the car’s shattered windshield and pooling on the ground with a wave of his hand. When Crowley began to drag Gabriel back - literally drag him like a potato sack, he just grabbed his arm and began walking towards the shop - he almost protested, then decided against him. 

Given the scope of the headache he was giving him, Aziraphale was fairly sure he deserved it.  He didn’t think he was supposed to have headaches, but then again angels are not supposed to turn human as punishment for trying to destroy other angels, and yet there they were.

The world was even more full of possibilities than he’d previously thought.

***

“It’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

“I am not, my Lord. It was definitely the Archangel Gabriel - I met him when I went upstairs with the Hellfire, for the angel they couldn’t burn. Oh, I knew something was off about him. This Aziraphale, I mean. When I saw him I wanted to try punching him, but he looked at me and--”

A furious buzzing noise caused the demon - someone so insignificant, Beelzebub didn’t know his name nor cared to - to abruptly fall silent, cowering. Beelzebub stood from their throne and took a step forward, towering over him. Figuratively, of course. It’s hard to really tower over anyone when the form you use the most is several inches shorter than most.

“Are you telling me,” Beelzebub spoke slowly, “that you went there to have a look at the angel they couldn’t burn, tempted a passing driver into speeding while you were at it, and that the car struck the Archangel Gabriel.”

“It did, sir. It was him. Didn’t recognize him until a moment before the impact, but I’m sure.”

“And he stayed down. Bleeding. Like a mortal.”

“Yes. It did seem really odd. Then the demon Crowley came--”

More furious buzzing at the mere mention of the name. The demon swallowed. “I mean-- the traitor came. Along with the other traitor. The one from upstairs.”

“And?” Beelzebub snapped. It got tiresome, really, how underlings kept pausing while reporting as though waiting for a reaction. Why do that, anyway? It wasn’t like the Prince of Hell was known to offer pats on the back and cookies - although at one point in time they had appreciated the traitor’s idea to get humans to bake cookies with raisins instead of chocolate chips, as well as the samples he had brought to the meeting.

“Well-- the traitors ran to him. I think they told the mortals they were doctors, and talked to him.” 

“Did you catch what they said?”

“No. I don’t think he answered - he was in pretty bad shape. For a moment I thought he was dead.” There was a laugh, echoing in the mostly empty room. Standing by the throne, Dagon stood silent. The underling shifted. “Er… it’s funny because that would be absurd, of course. Angels don’t die in car accidents.” 

“Nor they lie bleeding,” Beelzebub said quietly, frowning. “Yet he did.”

You can’t have him, Michael had snapped when Beelzebub had inquired about the fallen angel who had, apparently, not fallen all the way to Hell. He's not a demon. He’s not one of yours. 

“I demand a meeting with Gabriel, at least he can--” 

“He is unavailable.”

… Well. Now that certainly painted an interesting picture. Could it be that the one to fall, and yet not to Fall, was an archangel? And Gabriel, out of all of them? Had he been punished with mortality for… for what? Strategic meetings aside, which were needed to maintain a certain… order until their final war, Gabriel had always done everything painfully by the book. 

“Do go on,” Beelzebub spoke quietly.

“Well, I remember they knelt next to him, and then… nothing. I swear I blinked and they were gone, and everyone was acting like the car had hit a pole - they must have done something.”

“Time,” Dagon spoke. “The traitor can pause time. They must have taken him somewhere else."

"Or destroyed him," Beelzebub mused. They crossed their arms, their scowl deepening. "I doubt either has warm feelings for him." Or for us, they thought. 

"But one of them is an angel - surely he wouldn't… er." The demon - Beelzebub settled to call him Disposable 24601 - paused, having clearly realized how utterly stupid the statement was. Angels had killed plenty of times, and there had been that business of drowning out a sizeable part of Earth's population which, as far as Beelzebub was concerned, amounted to Heaven taking over what should have been Hell’s job. 

It was almost as annoying as the swarms of flies unleashed upon Egypt. That had been nothing short of a personal insult given that those were supposed to be their trademark. Was God the Lord of the Flies? No. Was Moses? No. That was Beelzebub and Beelzebub only, and yet of all of the insects they could have picked, it just had to be flies. 

It was one of many things they had meant to make God regret dearly once the Armageddon was underway, but now it looked like they’d have to wait indefinitely for a new chance. That really pissed them off. 

"But they could have left him to die," Dagon was muttering, unaware of Beelzebub’s thoughts of vengeance. She was better at quiet observations than at rallying troops, really, and her observations were rarely wrong. She wasn't the Lord of the Files for nothing. 

"Or ended him there while time stood still," Beelzebub agreed. "No need to take him elsewhere."

A nod. “The situation is-- unusual. Even by the current standards of unusual. Shall we send--”

“I’ll look into it myself,” Beelzebub cut Dagon off, causing her to blink. For good reason, too - they rarely left Hell, leaving work on Earth to lesser demons - but this was no ordinary matter.

 An archangel had been cast out of Heaven, one of those most loyal to God’s plan, and they had every intention to find out why. Plus, as far as they were concerned, Gabriel belong in Hell now - just like every angel cast out of Heaven up to that point. Beelzebub wasn’t going to give him a pass, losing out on a new soldier for Hell, because Heaven had decided to pull a distinction between fallen and Fallen out of their halos. 

Michael could take the fine print and shove it; Hell had a claim on the being formerly known as the Archangel Gabriel, and Beelzebub had every intention to uphold it.

***

“I can’t stay here.”

“I agree with him there.”

“Can you not agree on-- listen. You need to at least eat something.”

“I am not eating that. Never.”

“It’s sushi. It’s good, I told you. There’s the soy sauce, and--”

“And you drink it.”

“Crowley, please.”

“Oh, come on. Let me have some fun. Hey, Archangel Fucking Gabriel, see the green thing? It’s wasabi. Eat a spoonful.”

“Gabriel, you absolutely do not do as he says.”

“I have no intention to consume any of this. The smell alone makes me sick.”

“Mhh, maybe you should try having a toast…”

“Whatever that is, I refuse.”

“All right. You should at least drink some water, you must be dehydrated.”

“Give up, angel. It’s worse than trying to force Warlock to eat his vegetables.”

“You never tried to get Warlock to eat any vegetables.”

“And it made meal times a whole lot easier.”

“He got scurvy!”

“And you healed him, so no harm done. He sent Nanny Ashtoreth a postcard, by the way. He and his mother are going to the States now that his father was moved. Said he’d have preferred to return to England.”

“Oh, I received one as well! He said he’d try to convince his mother to come back for a visit. He’d like to say hi to Brother Francis. A darling boy, considering his upbringing.”

“Yes, his father is a prick.”

“... We also raised him as we would the Antichrist.”

“Don’t all nannies do that?”

“You and I remember Mary Poppins very differently.”

The discussion went on, and Gabriel paid attention to precisely none of it. The word ‘Antichrist’ would have made him listen intently before, but not anymore. What did it matter? The Armageddon had not happened, the war had not happened, the plan he’d spent his existence following and preparing for was null and void. And even if it weren’t, he had no say in such matters anymore. No mortal did.

They should have let me die. Let me go home.

The thought made something ache in his chest. He had never thought of Heaven that way - home - until now. And why would he? Heaven was simply Heaven, his obvious and natural place; he’d never been anywhere else for this long, nor wished to be. You don’t quite think of any place as home until you’re away from it and longing to return.

I want to go home.

For all we know he might go straight to Hell. Oh, don’t look at me like that! You were cast out.

No, not Hell, never, not him. It was impossible. Incomprehensible.

Ineffable?

Gabriel had never needed to ask himself as many questions as he did now, nor had he ever felt so lost. It made his head hurt in ways even the earlier incident and the bickering going on in the background hadn’t. Was this what humans had to do day by day? Question everything and make choices without guidance, on the hope they weren’t the wrong ones as they played a game whose rules were unknown? No wonder they had turned so self-destructive. Gabriel held back a groan - why oh why was his throat so parched - and tried to stop thinking. He could not. 

How could this be happening? Why was it happening to him-- he had done everything right. He had followed the instructions, the orders. He’d done everything he had for the greater good, and yet there he was, exiled and doomed to walk on Earth for… how long? Was it temporary? Would he have to wait for the end of a mortal lifespan before he was allowed to go back?

… Would he be allowed back at all?

Too many questions and not a single answer. It would drive him mad; however insignificantly short human lives were, the idea of spending the next decades with that doubt in mind and no answers made it feel like half an eternity. Was he supposed to do something to return home? Was he supposed to earn it, to atone for… whatever he had done wrong? But how? He had no plan, no instructions, no nothing. If only God could send him a sign, any sign as to what he had to do--

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

There was a low, keening noise; Gabriel didn’t even realize it had come from him. All he was aware of through the veil of despair was a sudden silence as he burrowed his face in his hands, the bickering gone. There was a touch on his arm. He didn’t flinch away. 

“There, there.” Aziraphale’s voice sounded just a touch awkward. He slid something across the table - the glass. “Have this, at least. It’s only water.”

“I don’t want--” he croaked, his throat and mouth so dry it hurt, but Aziraphale cut him off by waving a hand. How many times had he done that, silenced him with a gesture because his blabbing was of no importance? He shut his eyes. “I can’t stay here.”

What he had meant to say was that he couldn’t stay on Earth; where that would leave him, since Heaven was closed to him and the thought of descending to Hell filled him with yet more dread, there was no telling. The universe was vast, but he lacked the power or means to travel it now. He was trapped.

Aziraphale, however, seeed to understand it differently. “Yes, it is a little awkward-- listen, there is a decent hotel nearby. The Underlook Hotel. You can stay there for now, all right? You’ll be safe. A room has just been reserved and paid for.”

“A hotel-- that’s--?”

“A place where humans like to get naked. You walk in the hall and take off your clo--”

“You definitely do not take off your clothes,” Aziraphale cut him off, giving him an annoyed look. “I’ll explain you everything you need to know, Gabriel. But you need to drink.”

Gabriel stared at the glass; there was ice in it, and the sight made the thirst even worse. He almost spoke again to say he didn’t know how - he knew it went in through the mouth, but then humans did something with their throat to get it down and he wasn’t sure what it was - the thirst was so bad, he just reached for the glass and brought it to his lips, anything to make it end. 

The water was cool relief in his dry mouth, and the act of swallowing for the very first time came without any thought at all; the water went down the right way, he didn’t choke and oh, the relief was immediate and so great he couldn’t even muster the pride to pretend otherwise.

The demon, Crowley, looked more than slightly disappointed. “Well, you know how to drink,” he muttered. “By the way, do you know what to do when the water needs to come out again?”

Still reeling over how good that drink of water had felt, Gabriel blinked at him in confusion. 

“... I’ll take it as a no. So, you’re fully human, no? With all that it entails?”

“What?”

“Got anything in your pants?”

“In my--?” Gabriel reached down, entirely missing the way Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and stilled. There was something, a bulge beneath the fabric that hadn’t been there before. He’d seen enough humans naked at the dawn of time to have a vague idea of what it would look like if he disrobed. Which he had no intention to do. “... This wasn’t here before.”

“Well, there you go. A pair of wings for a pair of testicles.”

Gabriel gaze him an unimpressed look. “It doesn’t seem a fair exchange.”

“It’s not,” he agreed, and turned to Aziraphale. “Well, angel, I won’t be the one to explain him biology. For when, you know, the water needs to come out.”

“The water needs to come out?” Gabriel repeated, now rather lost. “But I just consumed--”

“And he’ll have to eat at some point.”

“What-- I’m not-- I have a book,” Aziraphale said suddenly, and stood. “I’ll go fetch it - you’ll find it useful,” he added quickly, and left before Gabriel - who would later read the children’s book about potty training Aziraphale was about to throw at him, and come to the conclusion that humans are positively disgusting - could say anything. 

He gave Crowley a wary look. “What are you talking about?”

The demon grinned widely. “Oh, I could tell you,” he said, letting the dark glasses slip down his nose to look at him with snake-like eyes. “But why spoil the fun when you can find out all by yourself?”

***

“Ah, to be a fly on the wall!”

Beelzebub knew that was something mortals said often, whenever they wished to be able to see something they shouldn’t be able to. They were on to something: there was a lot to be said in favor of being, literally, a fly on the wall. Or rather, right now, on the window. 

Not quite as good as being inside, but it offered them a good view of their target. He looked… bad.  Relatively bad, because when you dwell in Hell your idea of looking bad is very, very different from that of most being in existence. And they liked bad, anyway; Beelzebub took no small measure of satisfaction in knowing that, should they show themselves to mortals with their true visage, they would run screaming. 

However, for an angel’s standards - and for what had been Gabriel’s standard, especially - he did look bad. More dishevelled than Beelzebub had ever seen him and tired; dark shadows under his eyes, skin gray-ish, his hands shaking as he drank some water. 

There he was, one of the Almighty’s lap dogs until he’d been kicked out by his master to become Hell’s newest recruit. Maybe he wouldn’t make too much of a fuss; he was ill-suited for life as a mortal, and there were perks to joining the forces of Hell. Either way, Beelzebub had said they were going to claim him and they would. Their honor was at stake, at that point, however questionable said honor was.

Hell’s concept of honor was a tiny bit skewed, too.

As they kept watching, both traitors stood and so did Gabriel, more slowly, slipping something that looked like a small book in his pocket. Honestly, Beelzebub have burst in to claim him already if not for the traitors sitting right there. 

So, you're probably thinking, "If he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?" And very, very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out. 

It wasn’t that Beelzebub was in any way scared of them, of course, it would be laughable, but...

I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?

… Well. Best to avoid unnecessary confrontations. Gabriel would be alone, at some point. And when that happened, the Lord of the Flies would be ready to act.

***

The Underlook Hotel, where they dropped him off after an unnecessarily fast car ride that would have made Gabriel throw up if his stomach hadn’t been emptier than a pint glass after Nigel Farage’s passage, was a small but clean establishment, with large windows that let in what sunlight was to be found in London, which wasn’t much that day. The entrance hall had a long front desk and a smiling receptionist sitting behind it, and Gabriel headed towards it - more on a guess because he actually knew what the process was supposed to be at that point.

“Good afternoon,” the woman at the reception said, voice entirely too cheery. Truth be told she would have been very happy to personally set fire to about half the guests and a quarter of the staff, as do many people who work in the hospitality sector once their will to live has taken enough blows. This usually happens within the first two months and a half, a scant couple of weeks more than it takes to destroy the soul of a retail worker. Still, like most people working in the hospitality sector, she could hide it with a smile. “Can I help you?”

Gabriel nodded. “I have a reservation,” he said, and glanced down at the card. “Room 217.”

“Let’s see...” The woman typed, stared at the screen, then nodded. “Gabriel F. Archer?”

No. I’m the Archangel Gabriel. The Messenger. That’s all I ever was and will ever be, it can’t be gone forever, it just cannot. And what does that F stand for, anyway?

But of course, that was not a viable answer. With a knot in his insides and a weight in his chest, he nodded. “That’s me,” he said, and managed to smile. It would have probably looked more real if he’s pulled up the corners of his mouth with his fingers, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Lovely. Now let me-- oh, I see you completed your check-in this morning.” That was good, he supposed, because he knew nothing of what a ‘check in’ would entail. “Need help with your luggage?”

“I don’t have any--” Gabriel began, then paused, and glanced down. By his feet there was a single, black suitcase. He stared down at it for a few moments, and worked his jaw before speaking again. “... I think I can manage,” he said, and picked it up. It felt heavy, but of course it was not. He was just laughably, ridiculously weak. His very name - God is my strength - felt like a mockery now.

“Good. The lift is that way - your room is on the second floor. Do you need anything else?”

Gabriel hesitated. He didn’t want to ask, he really did not; it would feel like admitting defeat, that he truly was a mere mortal in need of gross matter for nourishment. But his stomach was almost cramping up, and he felt faint, and he gave in. After all, he couldn’t really keep pretending after finding himself, bleeding, on the hard ground. “Would you happen to know where I may be able to acquire some edible matter?”

That gained him a startled look. “Some... what?” she asked. In the back of her mind the Weirdo Alert light - it comes free after the first month working in the hospitality sector, along with several neuroses - began flashing yellow.

Right, they had a name for it. What was it, again? “You know… food?”

“Oh! Of course. It’s a bit late for lunch, but dinner is served from six - would you like to reserve a table? I’ll do it for you. You’ll find some snacks and drinks in the mini fridge in your room.”

“... I see. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Here for business, or are you on vacation?”

“Exile,” Gabriel muttered, turning her Weirdo Alert light red, and walked towards the lift without another word, dragging the suitcase and focusing on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. Once alone in the room, he’d-- he didn’t know. He’d tried to ask, after Aziraphale gave him a mobile phone and his number, desperate for any indication of what he should do.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“You figure it out, Gabe,” the demon Crowley had muttered, still sitting behind the wheel, sneering. “It’s the gift of free will.”

It didn’t feel like a gift at all; it was terrifying, and he’d thought at least Aziraphale would understand, but he… didn’t. 

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You do whatever you want from here on.”

Wanting was a foreign concept to Gabriel. He’d never wanted anything, only ever done what he had to do for… for the greater good. The only thing he wanted now was to shut his eyes and open then again to find he’d been living some sort of nightmare, to be vanquished by daylight. He only wanted things to go back the way they were.

He only wanted to go home.

By the time the lift stopped on the second floor, something peculiar had happened - his vision was blurry. Gabriel blinked it away, and found his cheeks wet. Oh, wonderful, now that mortal body was leaking the water he’d been forced to consume. Was that what the demon had meant when he talked about the water coming out? He’d probably have to read the book he’d been handed, although the illustration on the cover looked absolutely puerile and unlikely to hold any meaningful information about his condition. It would give him something to do, if nothing else. 

Or maybe that could wait. Maybe he’d pray, first thing - throw himself on his knees as soon as he found himself finally alone and pray like he never had before. Maybe God would listen. Maybe he’d receive a sign, guidance, anything that would tell him what to do. Yes, he’d do that; it wasn’t much, but it was still the closest thing he had to a plan. 

As he walked down the corridor and to the door of his room, he didn’t notice the fly that buzzed after him.

***

“The first beast was like a lion with eagles’ wings. As I watched, its wings were pulled off, and it was left standing with its two hind feet on the ground, like a human being. And it was given a human mind.” Daniel 7:4

***

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[cynfinnegan]

WIP Wednesday

From one of my many Gundam Wing/Harry Potter crossovers...

Gundam Factory, Colony L3-8253, 8 February, AC 195

Trowa Barton was in a state the workers at the Gundam factory were all too familiar with by now.  He was royally pissed off, and from the rumors that were flying around the factory, it wasn't difficult to figure out why.  His new "toy boy" had vanished four days ago, and no one could, or would, tell him where the nameless youth disappeared to.

He went to Nanashi's tiny apartment inside the factory first and found not the boy, but a middle-aged woman now occupying it.  He asked her if she knew where the boy who had lived there was, but she didn't and told him so, peppering her commentary with complaints about all the blood she had to clean up off the floor which, apparently, was a little detail Barton had forgotten about.

He made his way to the Infirmary next, where he demanded information on the nameless youth's whereabouts.  They told him in no uncertain terms that they couldn't give him any information on the boy because they weren't related.

Although he knew he'd never be punished for his crime, Barton spent several long minutes blustering and threatening the doctor and nurses, but to no avail.  He wasn't the boy's family, so they weren't going to tell him a damned thing.

He left the clinic a few minutes later, muttering more threats against them under his breath.  It then occurred to him that "No-name" was probably back at the factory, working on the Gundam that he was soon to pilot.

He rushed to the main part of the factory, hell-bent on finding the cinnamon-haired youth he'd beaten and raped to "teach him a lesson on keeping his mouth shut," but unfortunately, when the sandy-haired man got to where Heavyarms was being built, he overheard Doktor S and another man, one of his many assistants, talking about altering Operation Meteor to only take out OZ and Alliance military targets instead of dropping a colony onto the Earth, destroying them both.  Barton rushed over to confront the pair, his face contorted into a mask of fury.

"WHAT?" he bellowed angrily, clenching his hands into fists. "You wanna target only OZ?  You're changing the plan, old man!"

"If it goes according to plan, Operation Meteor will kill over twenty million people from the onset!" Doktor S replied, just as angrily.  "Isn't that going just a little too far for revenge for Hiiro Yui?"

"Exterminating twenty million leeches isn't going far enough!  This isn't about revenge anymore; this is about who controls the Earth Sphere!  The Colonies have always been meant to rule over the Earthers, with the Barton family being the top dogs! When we finally take control of everything, we'll take humanity to new heights!"

Doktor S sighed, shook his head and retorted with "That sounds like your father, Dekim, talking.  The Colonies still depend on Earth for food and medicine.  We'll be dooming ourselves to slow starvation and disease if we go through with Operation Meteor as..."

"I get it now," Barton interrupted snidely.  "You don't want us taking over the Earth, do you, traitor?!  You're jealous that once we do, the Barton family will be in charge of everything!  I'M TELLING MY FATHER ABOUT THIS!  JUST WATCH!  I'll CARRY OUT OPERATION METEOR BY MYSELF AND THE PEOPLE OF EARTH WILL BE SOR...!"

As the sneering Barton started to walk away, the terrified assistant pulled a pistol from a hidden holster, took aim and shot twice.

Nanashi jumped in shock when he heard the shots; it had been four years since he'd last heard gunfire, and he'd forgotten how incredibly loud it could be in a confined space.  He recoiled in horror when he saw the body of his rapist fall to the floor with two holes in his back, his dead eyes looking at him accusingly.  Next to him, a terrified Harry stuffed one small fist in his mouth and fought the urge to scream as he started to back away from the corpse.

"Now you've done it," they heard Doktor S say flatly.

"I'm sorry, sir," the frightened assistant replied, "but I have family planet side.  I couldn't just let him...!"

Harry felt the heel of his foot catch on his "brother's" toolbox and found himself stumbling backwards towards the edge of the platform.  Nanashi caught him before he could fall over the railing, but not before the little boy jostled the toolbox enough for it to rattle.

"WHO'S THERE?!" the scientist growled menacingly.  A moment later, Nanashi and Harry came out from their hiding place, eyes wide and hands raised, with Harry trying to hide behind the older boy's long legs.

"Who are you?!" the assistant demanded, raising his gun again.

"I'm no one," the youth said to the Doktor and his assistant, proud of the fact that his still raspy voice shook only slightly as he did what he did best, think on his feet.  "You can kill us if you feel you must, but you'll be throwing away an opportunity if you do..."

The assistant took aim, and was about to shoot the boys, when S raised his hand and said "Hold on, Jensen.  The Foundation's going find out about this sooner or later, so we might as well hear the boy out."

"But Doktor...," the nervous assistant, Jensen, said, then reluctantly lowered his pistol.

"I don't want to conquer the Earth," the teen continued.

"What?"

"I don't want to conquer the Earth," Nanashi repeated, his fear dissipating some, "but I can take his name and place as Heavyarms' pilot and carry out the mission to destroy the Alliance and OZ."

"You'll pilot the Heavyarms in his stead?"

"Yeah.  I've grown rather fond of her.  Life on this colony's been good for the most part, but I'm better suited for the battlefield."

That was all Doktor S needed to hear.  He'd been on his way to enlist the boy everyone called Nanashi as a replacement pilot when he found the terrified Harry looking for help after Barton attacked the teen and here he was, volunteering to do it.  Barton had refused to learn how to effectively pilot the Gundam, preferring to spend that time harassing the techs and assistants.  Nanashi had been the latest, and also the last.

"All right, then," the scientist said with a lopsided grin.  "From this moment on, you're Trowa Barton.  We have two months to train you on how to operate Heavyarms and her weaponry."

"I've experience piloting a Leo," the teen replied, his eyes still on the machine.

"Perhaps, but the Gundam's cockpit, AI, and weapons systems are vastly different from those of a Leo, so you'll be starting over from scratch.  Once we launch, you'll be in charge, and you and the others are to carry out your missions as you see fit.  Don't worry about the colonies; OZ and the Alliance destroyed the peace of outer space when they assassinated Hiiro Yui.  This operation is our revenge."

"Understood."

Nanashi saluted sharply.  Harry mimicked his actions, but watched everything with a sense of heartsick dread.  If Triton left the colony and returned to Earth, what would become of him?  Would his aunt and uncle come back to reclaim him, or would they all abandon him to this unfamiliar place?  Gathering his courage, he tugged on the back of the Doktor's smock and asked "Excuse me, sir.  I don't mean to sound selfish, but what about me?"

The Doktor knelt down so he was at Harry's eye level and replied "You'll be going with him, of course.  OZ and the Alliance will never suspect our pilot being one of a pair of brothers traveling together.  It's the perfect cover story."

"You mean lie?" Harry asked, confused.

"No, not exactly, Harry," the youth explained, gathering the still badly-frightened little boy into his arms.  "The Doktor wants us to pretend to be brothers while we're on Earth, but you know what?  Even if we're not related by birth, I feel like we're family.  Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yeah."

Though the newly named Trowa Barton had been Harry's "brother" for only a few days, it was painfully obvious to him that this little boy was starved for simple human affection.

The men and women in the mercenary corps he'd ran with as a kid weren't the most demonstrative bunch of people on Earth.  They were professional soldiers, after all, but at least they'd cared about him a little.  It wasn't uncommon he received a brief hug, a pat on the back, a kind word, or even a small bag of sweets from someone once in a while.

Still holding Harry, Trowa swore to himself that, no matter what he had to do, the little boy in his arms would never want for the love or protection of a family again, even if it was only him providing that love and protection.

[sallsmum]

Down the rabbit hole.

Day 2 or Malec week is Disney and i decided on basing this fic on the disney version of Alice in Wonderland, the live action one. 

Ale watched as heavy rain lashed the glass doors of the balcony. The weather had put a dampener, literally, on his plans for his day off. Magnus was away in Idris till that evening and he had decided to go on a hike with Jace. Now all his plans were out the window, especially after getting a phone call from Jace saying Clary was dragging him off to the movies instead.

He had asked him to go with them but Alec declined his offer, not wanting to be a third wheel while Magnus was away from him. It was too frustrating.

He was still standing in the living room watching the rain when his phone rang. It was Caterina.

“Alec, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favour? I must go out to a client and I can’t take Madzie with me. Do you think she could stay with you for an hour or so? Did you have plans at all?”

“Hey, Caterina, no, I don’t actually. This weather and a mushy girlfriend threw them out the window. I’d be happy to watch her for you.”

“I’m not even going to ask what a  mushy girlfriend has to do with anything but thank you so much for agreeing to have Madzie. I’ll be right over.”

Alec had barely pressed the button on the phone when a portal appeared and Caterina stepped through with the little girl.

“Thanks so much for this. Here’s her stuff. She has her favourite movie in there so that should keep her occupied while I’m gone.” Caterina handed Alec a Hello Kitty backpack and after a quick good bye left back through the portal.

“Do you want to watch your movie? I can make us popcorn?” Alec asked Madzie bending down to face her.

“Okay.” She said shyly.

Alec headed for the kitchen and made the popcorn then came back to put the disc into the DVD player.

Madzie sidled up next to him of the sofa as the movie started.

“Alice in wonderland, I like this one too.” Alec said, putting the bowl of popcorn in between them.

About half way into the movie, Alec could feel his eyes getting heavy. The sound of the rain on the windows and the music from the movie was too relaxing but he was determined to stay awake.

A few minutes later, his eyes flew open and he blinked rapidly against a bright light.

“Madzie what’s …….” He started to say but the words died on his lips when his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He was outside in a garden. The sun was streaming down from a clear blue sky and he was surrounded by tall plants, the like he had never seen before. If he didn’t know better he would of said they were looking at him. He rubbed his eyes again, frowning. What the hell was going on?

“Hello? Madzie? Where are you?” But he got no reply save the sound of birds twittering in the back ground. He looked around and realised that he was on a path. He started walking and not far along it he saw someone appear just ahead of him. He sped up, calling out to them.

“Hey? can you tell me where we are?” He asked them, when he had caught up.

They turned and Alec gave a start when he was confronted by a familiar face.

“Simon? What the heck are you doing here? Do you know what’s going on?”

Simon looked back at him with a nervous expression. He was wearing a pair of old fashioned looking spectacles and he had an ornate looking pocket watch in his hand which he was checking every few minutes. He had on a bright red shirt, tartan waist coat and dark blue pants. The whole outfit looking completely out of character for someone who usually wore gamer t shirts and jeans.

“What’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on, we’re going to be late, that’s what. We have to hurry! Come on, quickly! We can’t be late for tea.” He said, his voice high and jittery and he took off further up the path. Alec felt he had no choice but to follow him although he had no idea what he was talking about. He really had to run to keep up with him and when Simon rounded a bend ahead of him, he lost sight of him for a few minutes.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he took the curve. There was a large clearing in front of him surrounded by more of the exotic looking plants. Lush green lawn covered the ground. A large table sat in the middle of the scene, completely covered with cups, teapots and every kind of cake and pastry you could imagine. Various people sat around it’s sides on mismatched chairs and as Alec drew closer he realised he recognised them all.

Simon was at seated near the end on one side on a high stool, his feet dangling down under the table. He held his watch in one hand and a tea cup in the other. Next to him Alec recognised Clary by her bright red hair. That was all that was the same about her, however, as she was dressed in a wonderfully ornate looking white gown, her hands and forearms covered in white lacy gloves. So much different than her black Shadowhunter’s gear. She was laughing and talking to Simon. Next to her, was Jace, he was wearing white as well but his t shirt had a large red heart on it. In front of him on the table were plates piled with small pastry tarts and he was eating one after another while all the time trying to talk with his mouth full to Izzy who was seated next to him. Izzy was dressed in a rich red gown; her hair was styled on top of her head with a gold crown circling it. She looked disdainfully back at Jace as he talked like he was the lowliest person in the world.

Then Alec spotted Madzie. She had the whole opposite side of the table to herself and was seated in a huge wing backed chair, surrounded by cushions. Through the strands of her hair, Alec could see a set of dark pointed ears and when she raised her head from the tea cup she was lapping at, he was shocked to see the tip of her small nose was dark and an impressive set of long whiskers either side of her top lip. She smiled broadly at him and to his utter surprise, he saw a log elegant, dark furred tail flicking from side to side behind her.

“Oh look, he’s finally here. Sit down my boy, and help yourself.” Alec tore his bewildered eyes from Madzie to look to the head of the table.

Magnus was sitting on a throne like chair, presiding over the crazy scene. His dark spiked hair was covered in a large top hat and his face had more than his usual make up on it. Glitter flashed around his eyes every time he blinked and his lips were bright red. He wore shiny satin looking clothes in bright jewel colours. An emerald green coat, a deep magenta shirt, bright blue waistcoat and bright yellow pants.

“Magnus! What is all this, why are you dressed like that? And why are they all here?” He asked him but Magnus didn’t seem to hear the question.

“Come on come on, Alec, it’s tea time. You have to drink up before the bad weather sets in.” Magnus said, waving at the remaining free chairs.

Alec stumbled around to a wooden chair that was to his left and watched with his mouth hanging open as a teapot suddenly came flying up the table towards him and then poured its contents into a cup that sat in front of him. He was too stunned to move. His brain was working furiously to try to make sense out of everything but it wasn’t happening.

“Come on, dear boy, drink up, have to beat the weather, you know.” Magnus said again, pushing a small jug of milk and a bowl of pink looking sugar towards him. Alec looked up to the sky and saw only sunshine and blue sky. Why was he so worried about the weather, it was beautiful.

He was just about to take his first sip from the cup when he noticed the light starting to fade. From out of nowhere, a chilly breeze began to blow, gaining strength very quickly. The blue sky was soon taken over in a bank of very black, sinister looking clouds. Everyone at the table started to whimper in fear and they all left their chairs to get underneath the large table. Magnus stood up and faced the oncoming cloud. His arms outstretched and his hands held up as if he was going to try to push them back to where they had come from.

“No! We don’t want you here, you’re spoiling all the fun! Go away! He shouted into the wind that was now bordering on a gale. As Alec watched, he saw some of the cups flying off its surface, along with the fancy cakes and pies. He could feel the wind trying to knock him from his chair and he gripped its edge to anchor himself.

Everything had gone from happy and peaceful to now looking like a scene from a horror movie. Lightning forked through the black sky and thunder rumbled ominously.  Rain started to fall in heavy drops, making a tinkling sound as it hit the remaining cups and plates.

Magnus was still standing with his hands out yelling at the heavy clouds to go away but it wasn’t doing any good. He was soaked through in seconds. Suddenly a huge face formed in the cloud directly above them and Alec cowered as he realised it was Valentine. As he watched, the face gave an evil grin and slowly morphed into a swirling mass and started heading for magnus.

Alec moved automatically, knowing that he had to protect him.

“No!” he yelled into the wind and screwing up his eyes against the pelting rain and driving wind, launched himself side ways to knock him from the deadly swirling cloud’s path.

His eyes flew open with a start and he sat up suddenly. He looked around wildly and saw he was in the loft, sitting next to madzie, who was looking at him curiously. He shook his head and took in a deep breath. A dream, it was all a dream.

“You went to sleep, Alec and missed all the good parts of the movie.” Madzie told him.

“Did I? I’m sorry. Maybe you can tell me all about it, instead” Madzie’s face lit up and she started to recall everything that he had missed when Alec saw a portal form in the entrance way and Caterina stepped through.

“Hey there! How did it go? Did you have a good time, Madzie?” she asked as she came over to them.

“Alec missed the good parts.” She told her. Alec gave a sigh of relief that the little girl hadn’t revealed anything about him going to sleep. He was just glad that she had been occupied by the movie.

He said goodbye to them and waved to Madzie who was smiling back at him as she stepped through the portal behind Caterina. She was such a cutie, Alec thought.

He looked out through the glass doors of the balcony and saw that the rain was finally easing up. He looked at the time on his phone and was happy to see that Magnus was due home any minute.

He went back to the sofa and picked up the bowl the popcorn had been in and was just straightening up when he froze.

Sitting on the coffee table in front of where they had been sitting was a tea cup. There was a folded piece of paper sitting in it and Alec reached out a shaking hand and took it out and unfolded it.

Written in a cursive script where the words: -

“Always watch out for bad weather. Thank you for saving me.”

When magnus returned home half an hour later, he found Alec still sitting on the sofa, holding the tea cup. He sat down beside him kissing his cheek, frowning at his odd look.

“So, what did you get up to today, Alexander?” he asked.

“I think I went to a tea party, with Madzie.” He told him.