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ichigo-daifuku · 5 years ago

Text

Biblical Sense

Obey Me! Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Angel!Lucifer/Succubus

Frustrated with the state of affairs surrounding his father's rule in the Celestial Realm, Lucifer the Archangel descends to the human world with a purpose: to commit a transgression against the Most High and soil his virtuous hands.

There, he meets a succubus who leads him to engage in a different kind of corruption altogether, one defiling the virtue of chastity.

Explicit | Pre-Canon, Introspection, Mentions of Canon-Typical Violence, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Blasphemy

Contains references to Lucifer's Devilgram Story, The Glory Days.

Word Count: 7k

To know someone in the biblical sense is to have sexual relations with them.

In the beginning, the Morning Star descended from the Celestial Realm.

Engulfed by the brightest of the lights, he came down from the night sky like a shooting star. A thud resounded from his feet the moment they landed on the human world’s soil. He folded his wings, their brilliance fading as he switched from his armor of light to his casual clothing and assumed his human-like form. Alone in a garden, the darkness brought by the current time in this realm made him blink a few times, his eyes adjusting to this change for a moment while the chirping of crickets filled his ears.

Lucifer the Archangel stepped out from the shadows, fallen leaves crumbling under his feet with every step. Rumors had brought him to this place—rumors angels weren’t supposed to hear yet he was privy to due to his status. A wishing fountain stood in the middle of the courtyard, a little demon in its zenith wearing a hat and holding a pot that trickled the water down to its base. Surrounded by trimmed hedges, the scent of red and white roses hung in the air in the most intoxicating way possible that he could imagine the taste of rosewater on his tongue. Though calm and composed on the outside, the normalcy of this wicked place took him by surprise. He expected something more… sinister.

Beyond the maze of the courtyard, a mansion that could only be described as lavish stood. Its exterior’s grandeur was all he needed to see to know that whoever was residing in it was far from impoverished, but he supposed that would be the case for this was a territory of demons, the creatures of indulgence. He made his way closer to the mansion, noting no sign of anyone except for the lights illuminating the windows. His hands balled into fists, he stood in front of the tall doors, unable to bring himself to swing it open and be done with his purpose in a minute. However, his dilemma was short-lived as the lock clicked, the door creaking as it opened.

A woman revealed herself from beyond the wood, her stature barely reaching his shoulders. Long tresses cascaded over her back, the straps of the cotton white nightdress she wore hidden by the locks of hair falling on her shoulders, the hem reaching the middle of her thighs. Barefoot, she cradled two objects with her hand and separated them when she had let go of the knob.

“Apple?” Unfazed by his sudden appearance, she offered the fruit inside her outstretched palm to him, taking a bite of the half-eaten apple on her other hand.

It was unlike any regular apple he had seen before; a considerable portion on top of it purple while the bottom looked a regular green. Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Don’t you think I should be the one asking you that question?”

Lucifer shot her a glare to which she responded with a sly smile curving up her lips.

“A premium item found exclusively in the Devildom, Princess’s Poison Apple. Despite its name, it’s safe to eat,” she took another bite, the crisp sound an evidence of its freshness, and swallowed before adding, “and delicious.”

She loosened her fingers on the apple and shifted her wrist sideways, the movement leading his attention to shift from her face to the movement of her hand. On reflex, he reached out his palms and set them together to catch the fruit, the gravity of his actions dawning on him the second the deed was done. Pleased with the turn of events, she chuckled and raised her own apple as if she was saying a toast for their meeting and chewed on another bite.

It wasn’t Lucifer’s first time to encounter food from the Devildom, and it wouldn’t be his first time to partake in it. He brought the fruit closer to his face and inhaled. No strange scent emanated from it. He parted his lips and took a bite, the sourness of the apple and an unexpected sweetness blended perfectly with it satisfying his palate.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asked and spun around without waiting for his answer. “Come inside.”

Her nonchalance and her every action so far irked Lucifer, but he couldn’t complain when they worked in his favor for he would never admit to this strange apple being delicious. He bit into the apple once again and stepped inside the house, sealing the door shut behind him.

With quiet footsteps, she led him up the staircase and into a series of corridors. Portraits of females, both in demon and human-like forms adorned the walls, a variety of depictions of horned women performing illicit acts with mortal men alternating with them. He shook his head and sighed, finding these poor excuses of art tasteless.

“Ever been to the Devildom?” she asked out of the blue, neither looking back nor slowing down her steps.

“That’s none of your business.”

In truth, Lucifer had been to her world. Darkness prevailed in the Devildom, and he could still recall the way mud went flying everywhere and soiling his armor when his feet touched its ground. Up to this day, it was one of the worst experiences he has ever had, and he made sure that this fact was known to his hosts. Still, he had no reason to share the experience with this stranger.

“I’ve never been to the Celestial Realm myself,” she told him.

“For a good reason.”

“What was that?”

“Demons such as yourself have no place in the Celestial Realm.”

“I see. So, you really are an angel.” She faced him but continued walking backward, the spring in her steps an indication of her liking the confirmation of her suspicions.

He had just spit out an insult directed to her and her kind, so why and how was she, at the very least, unoffended? “How did you know?”

“I can feel it, the purity radiating off you.” She halted in front of one of the rooms, turning from him and opening the door. “It’s impossible to ignore and so… enticing.”

It was the same for him. An aura of evil radiated from her presence, masked by the fragrance of roses. He was unsure where it emanated, from her body or from the garden outside, but he recognized the sweet scent of it all too well: temptation.

She ushered him inside a drawing-room that matched the lavishness of the house’s exterior. A candelabra chandelier illuminated the space together with the lamps on the walls, the fire in the hearth contributing to the light and providing warmth to the space. The giant mirror hung menacingly by the bookshelf caught his attention at once. On the corner of the room, a sleek grand piano rested, an untouched chess game across it. An intricate table with matching plush seats served as the room’s centerpiece.

“Welcome. Feel free to sit wherever you like,” she said and exited the room, leaving him to observe the place for himself.

Out of curiosity, he wandered around, passing by the mirror and getting a glimpse of his reflection. He looked quite weary, he thought, but nevertheless, alert and ready for anything. Casting those thoughts aside, he strode to the bookshelf and scanned the spines for their titles, judging the residents of this house through them.

Before he knew it, she returned with a tray of refreshments and arranged them on the table. Swirls of steam flowed from the matching pair of teacups as she poured the fresh brew inside them. Beside each cup, a slice of sponge cake waited while other baked goods were also in the middle of the table, ready to be eaten.

“What is that?” Lucifer marched over to her direction and asked, his tone both cautious and accusatory.

“You might have already heard of it, but it’s called black tea.” She paid no heed to his unfriendly behavior and continued, “Teatime wouldn’t be complete without pastries, don’t you think so?”

He set his half-eaten apple on the tray and sat down. “There better be no strange ingredient in this, demon.”

An amused laugh bubbled from her lips. “I promise you, there isn’t.”

After serving the refreshments, she took her cup and saucer with her hands and sat across him, blowing the steam for a second before taking a sip. It was only when she had begun indulging in her slice of cake that Lucifer sipped his own tea, assured that he would not drop dead if he were to partake in whatever she had served him. He couldn’t help it; her hospitality left him unsettled. The brew was flavorful, yet he held back compliments and set the cup down. The lightness of the sponge cake would be the perfect pair for it, and he picked up his fork to take a portion but was halted midway by her query.

“You’re not going to say grace?”

“No,” Lucifer threw back irritatedly. It didn’t cross his mind to say grace at all, and the small victory on his part satisfied him.

“Interesting,” she commented and indulged on a forkful of sponge cake, dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin.

Lucifer disliked how she was treating him like a spectacle. He was no creature for a demon’s amusement, and he had an urge to let her know of this fact, seeing how unguarded she was acting around him and how pleasant she was treating him. With complete sang-froid, this demon was underestimating him, but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake. He sized up his opponent and weighed in his options.

She picked up her teacup and leaned back in her seat, still as relaxed as ever. “Why are you here?”

“And if I told you I am not here for anything?”

“You wouldn’t have found this place if you weren’t. This mansion is a succubi’s den,�� she stated and sipped her tea. “And in the human world, too.”

“A succubi’s den?” The rumors proved to be true; this was a place established by demons, but the fact that it was by the succubi was an unknown tidbit to him. He refused to imagine why the succubi needed a place like this in the human world, but with one of their kind sitting in front of him, images of these female demons—including her—preying on unsuspecting mortals made their way into his mind so vividly that he had begun to wonder if the incubi had established something similar.

“Yes. Every being that comes and goes from this place is here for life’s carnal pleasures.” She crossed her legs, giving him a glimpse of the skin on her upper thighs, which he couldn’t decide if she intended to do or not. “So, tell me, angel, what is it that you are here for?”

Angel. She spoke the word in a way that it was almost like an affectionate pet name. He hated it. The implication of her statement sparked wrath within him. “You have no right to speak to me that way, vile succubus.”

To his surprise and further vexation, she didn’t even flinch at his tone or insult. “Do you want to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He would not. He wasn’t going anywhere until he had accomplished his goal. Once he had set his eyes on something, he would consider it done, and this wasn’t an exception.

“Alright. Let’s enjoy our tea?”

For a while, nobody spoke. The clink of the ceramic as she set her teacup down accentuated the pin-drop silence. He started eating his food in an attempt to collect himself and think rationally, as he always did. She let him be, filling his cup once she noticed it was empty and doing the same to her own.

As she placed the teapot down, Lucifer found himself saying, “To begin a rebellion.”

“Hm?”

“You asked what I am here for,” he replied, “that is my answer.”

He clenched his hands, the forlorn faces of his younger brothers etched inside his mind, the memory of the tears streaming down his sister’s face so crystal clear to him. So much has happened, and though his siblings were a messy bunch at times, they didn’t deserve this. It was the last straw. It was time to put an end to their suffering.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Shameless creature. Why don’t you stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“True.” She chuckled and placed her elbows on the table, folding her fingers together and setting her chin on top of them. “An angel is going to sin. How lovely.”

There it was again, her fascination with him that bothered Lucifer so much. It made him want to expose her true colors—her nature as a demon—and push her buttons to make her lose her cool.

“Aren’t you concerned for your well-being?” he challenged, giving her a hint of his intentions.

“That depends. Are you here to kill me or are you here to sleep with me?”

“You seem to be rather calm about the first prospect.”

“I’m not going down without a fight if that’s what you mean.”

“I’d be disappointed if you would.”

She stretched her arms and stood. Wordlessly, she made her way to the piano and picked up a ribbon he hadn’t noticed earlier from above it. Her fingers deft, she stepped in front of the mirror on the wall and gathered her hair. The delicate skin on the nape of her neck as she encircled her locks with the bow and tied it piqued his interest, and she met his eyes through her reflection, unsurprised that he was already staring. “Battle me, then.”

Lucifer had been scrutinizing her every movement, noting gracefulness up to the smallest of things. The challenge she issued took him out of the trance-like state he was having, and he internally chided himself for letting his mind wander.

“How very foolish of you to propose such a thing,” Lucifer replied. But also very bold, he didn’t say. He gestured over the laid out chessboard on the corner of the room. “Very well. Be my opponent in a game of chess.”

“A game of chess? That’s strange, but sure. If I win—”

“You don’t get to make the rules, succubus,” he said with a glare. “If you defeat me, I’ll spare you and leave, but if I win, I’ll choose what I’ll do with you.”

“I didn’t know that angels had it in them to be so unfair.” She turned around, pleasantly surprised. “But since everything about you is so irresistible, I agree to your terms.”

Irresistible. She wasn’t the first demon he had the chance to encounter, but everything she said threw him off. The sight of the hair behind her back bouncing as she strolled to the chessboard attracted his attention, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on his initial impression of her. He followed suit, aiming for the dark crystal pieces he had always favored over the light and clear variations. It seemed she was in agreement with this as she immediately went behind the clear pieces and sat down.

“Ladies first,” he urged.

“My, what a gentleman you are.”

Foolish demon. He was giving her a handicap, yet all she was thinking of was how much of a gentleman he was? She was careless. The two of them sat closer now as compared to when they had their refreshments. Lucifer’s eyes darted from her to the chessboard she examined, clearing his throat the moment he found himself distracted once again. Her dainty fingers moved a pawn forward to another square, and the game officially began. Strange as she was, it didn’t take long for her to ask him questions.

“Is it true that it’s eternally daytime in the Celestial Realm?” she queried once it was her next turn.

“What do you think?” he fired back absentmindedly, deciding on which piece to move. He broke into a pleased smile as he made the first capture and eliminated her pawn, placing it on his side.

“There it is,” she pointed out.

His eyes flickered from the chessboard to her. “What?”

“Your smile. It’s radiant.” She smiled in return and chuckled. “You seemed tense. It’s fine. There’s no one for you to impress here. It’s just me.”

“You know nothing.”

“You’re right about that, I don’t. Are all angels this stoic?”

“Is that an insult?”

“Only if you consider it one,” she quipped. “Well? Are they?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Good to know.”

If there was anything he learned from his loss in another chess game with a certain demon, it would be underestimating his opponent. She might look all innocent and conventionally attractive, but she was still a demon; a cunning creature of the dark who existed to bring disorder and chaos, wreak havoc among the three worlds, and exploit the weaknesses of her enemies. He just knew she was setting a trap somewhere and fooling him, but to his frustration, all she did was continue firing one question after another.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I have several brothers and a sister.”

“I see.”

Her lips curved into a frown as she calculated her next move. Up until that moment, she had been nothing but all smiles, but the seriousness in her demeanor caught his interest further. She moved a rook in silence. Every time she asked him something, he assumed she would share about herself, yet she never did. How odd.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Hm?” She raised her gaze at him, pausing her competitive train of thought. “You could say my fellow succubi are my sisters, in a way?”

He nodded, considering the thought. In his long existence, his one and only sister has caused him so much trouble, but she was the dearest and most precious angel of all, the one he and his brothers adored and doted on. All that aside, he could only imagine how life would be like with a lot of sisters. At the furrow that made its way into his brows, she began laughing. For an evil creature, the peal of her genuine laughter was similar to carefully crafted notes in a musical piece, and Lucifer found it hard to believe that he was able to make such a comparison.

She proved to be a worthy opponent, he would give her that, but not good enough to beat him. Despite her assumption that she has a chance of winning, he captured all of her pieces with only a few to spare on his own.

“Checkmate,” Lucifer stated proudly, ending the match.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she stood and sauntered to the tall window, gazing over the courtyard. Lucifer concluded that she must have known the moment he stepped foot on the succubi’s property. His train of thought was cut short as the breeze billowed her hair and the skirt of her nightdress, the curtains in rhythm with them, hiding and revealing her from his sight in flashes. The moonbeam illuminated her form in the most unearthly way, and his throat bobbed as he took in the sight to behold. At that moment, she was far from the horrific creature that he assumed she would be, but the certainty that she was a demon—a succubus—stood out, for she possessed a beauty so sinful that he had no doubt only a being meant for seduction could be so alluring. Like he was being summoned by a siren, he stood and followed her, the air highlighting the fragrance of roses which, right now, in all the senses he possessed, felt holier than incense.

“Do it,” she dared as she lifted her head to look his way, the fire in her eyes telling him that she truly wasn’t going down without a fight.

This night was the turning point in Lucifer’s life. In the clash against his father, his siblings needed not to stain their holiness nor stand beside him; he was prepared to do this on his own. Still, he had a hunch that they would follow him for all of them had always counted and trusted his decisions, but if that were to happen, as their eldest brother, he needed to be the one to take the brunt of everything, especially this initial step. Determined, Lucifer would soil his hands in an act of disobedience to his father. His holiness was one of the main ideals that tied Lucifer to him, and Lucifer would sever it and burn the image his father expected of his son, tainting his purity and showing his father that he was no longer his child. His father, all-knowing and all-powerful, would know at once when Lucifer would appear before him that Lucifer disobeyed. As his father organized the appropriate chastisement meant for him, Lucifer would face him without regret and declare, I will no longer follow you.

Lucifer would scale the heavens, and above the stars of his father, he would set up his throne. He would ascend above the tops of the clouds. In the process, he would leave no stone unturned. Always true to his convictions, he vowed to reach his end goal, and this was a leap in the path he was walking on.

To soil his hands with another’s blood or to defile the virtue of chastity; she had asked him earlier which one he was here for, and though he evaded the question, she was able to tell which was the answer in the end. In truth, he had only had the former in mind. The sin he aimed to commit was murder. A demon would be dispensable, he had decided, and it wouldn’t matter if there were one or a hundred demons in this mansion; he came prepared to destroy all of them with his bare hands, and if he were to be severely outnumbered, he was equipped with the dagger hidden in his coat. It turned out, she was alone. This succubus would be no match against him, a high-ranking angel, one of those who wielded the most power in the Celestial Realm.

But in the game of seduction the two of them played the second their gazes connected, the wide eyes that had stared back at him with intrigue when the door opened held him captive. He was the one who was no match for her.

Lucifer has had enough denying it; he coveted her. She would be his ruin.

He took her by the wrist and pulled her against him, unable to discern what sort of unholy spirit was taking over his body but meaning every word as he whispered, “Sin with me.”

“What?” she exclaimed, bewildered. She was expecting him to strike and fulfill his original purpose, not coax her into giving in to her lecherous desires. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You refuse me?” he clarified disbelievingly. This succubus, a creature who lived and breathed concupiscence, was rejecting him, Lucifer the Archangel, and his proposition. “You dare refuse me?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, angel. This is difficult for me, maybe even more than it is to you.” She glared and shook her wrist from his grasp, staggering backward to put space between them. “This wasn’t what you were here for. You were here for your bloodlust, not your lust.”

He supposed it was correct; she was drawn to his light while he was enticed by her darkness. It was true yet ironic that an angel and a demon would be each other’s temptation, but here they were, the very manifestation of the iniquitous idea.

His resistance thrown out the window, Lucifer stepped closer and pulled her in again, trapping her body with his by the window. He slowly dipped his head, his heated gaze connecting with hers in a silent challenge while hers searched for an ounce of hesitation in his choice, her resolve faltering when she found none. The tips of their noses brushed, and her eyes fluttered closed, his own doing the same at the first caress of their lips. She kissed him back, pliant and eager when his tongue slid to the seam of her lips and met her own, satisfying each other’s curiosity but awakening another hunger altogether.

She pulled away, close enough that their lips barely touched but still shared each other’s warmth. “You’re actually serious about it?”

“I want you,” Lucifer stated as he traced her collarbone with his fingertips, cradling her shoulder with his other hand.

“I…” She averted her gaze. “I want you, too. Of course, I do.”

“I know. Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he stated, the blush on her cheeks telling him as much. “Where’s your room?”

“Right across this—”

That was all he needed to know. He wasted no time and took her hand in his, leading her to her bedroom. Once inside, he removed his gloves and coat and hung them on a chair, his vest following suit. As he loosened his tie and pulled it off, he chuckled at the feeling of her gaze boring into his back and pointed out, “You’re looking at me so wantonly.”

“I think I’ve been doing that for quite a while now…”

He turned around and strode closer to her, giving her a challenging stare. “Show me what’s been running inside that mind of yours, then.”

She reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, taking all the time in the world and savoring the slow pace of revealing his skin. With hesitant fingertips, she brushed over the contours of his abdomen, moving upward to splay her hands over his torso before taking his shirt by the collars and discarding it. She kept quiet and continued to take in his appearance up close. Warm palms reached to cradle his cheeks and slowly moved to touch the hair on the sides of his forehead, coming back to trace his jawline. Her touch was gentle, and her was voice full of reverence as she said, “Everything about you is so radiant.”

A strange feeling washed over him and caused his skin to flush, and he sought her lips again before she had the chance to notice. He carded his fingers through her soft locks and caressed the nape of her neck, his palm sliding over the small of her back to draw her closer. She broke the kiss and pressed her lips on his shoulder, moving down to his chest and his abdomen, worshipping his form. With a glance at him, she sank to her knees, and Lucifer has never seen a more beautiful sight. From below, her hands worked to remove his footwear and undo his trousers, baring his body completely. At first, Lucifer thought that she undressed him for her eyes to have something to feast on, but all he found in her wide-eyed gaze was awe, as though she was a firm believer of a deity and was looking at one. He liked that; it stroked his ego and made him feel powerful.

It gave him a sense of pride.

“Open your mouth,” Lucifer commanded.

She swallowed but responded by doing as he asked which satisfied him, immediately knowing what he wanted. Her lips parted, she took the tip of his hard cock in her mouth and ran her tongue across it. Slowly, she slid his length further, all the while holding his stare, and her head bobbed forward and backward as she sucked him with zeal and innate talent that suggested her nature as a sexual being. He closed his eyes and marveled at the sensation in his groin, her hand that grasped his base running up and down in rhythm to the ministrations provided by her lips and tongue. How could something so sinful feel so heavenly? It was too good in the way only forbidden things could be, he was unsure if he could get enough of this feeling.

Caught in the haze of sensual pleasure, his eyes fluttered open and found her doing something which… displeased him. Lucifer cradled the back of her head with his palm and urged her to take him further, testing her limits. “Are you touching yourself? Who told you that you could do that?”

A strangled noise of surprise and confusion rumbled from her throat, making him release the groan he had been trying his best to hold back. She retracted the hand that was nestled between her thighs and placed it on the floor to steady herself instead. Satisfied, he released her and wiped her wet lips with his thumb, urging a response.

“I wanted to,” she answered haughtily, panting, “that’s why I did it.”

“Come to me, evil one.”

Her legs wobbly, she stumbled as she stood and braced herself with her hands on his shoulders. Lucifer let out a sigh of disapproval but proceeded to take her by the waist and hook her legs around his hips, carrying her to the bed. He undid the ribbon in her hair, leaving it to splay over the sheets like a grand halo, and between the two of them, it was difficult to differentiate who was the angel and the demon. The hem of her nightdress hiked up by the sudden motion, he leaned back, and his gaze traveled downward and was welcomed by the sight of her sex, dripping for him through the fabric of her underwear. After a curious swipe of his finger over the cloth, he said, “All you needed to do was ask, and I would have done it for you.”

She whined, shifting her hips in search of friction, her voice so pleasant in his ears that he yearned to do more to hear it again.

Did she add a dose or two of aphrodisiac in the black tea she served him? In the Princess’s Poison Apple she liked so much? Lucifer couldn’t recall, but he was positive she didn’t. He could find no explanation why he was being like this, his whole body blazing with arousal for this woman. “Or better yet…”

He tugged her underwear and slid it over her legs and feet, discarding it to the side. The longing to see the entirety of her led his fingers to trace her legs and slip the nightdress over her head. He was no stranger to the sight of a woman’s body, but it was the first time he stared at one with open desire. She was a true creature of sin. The idea that he would be a notch on her bedpost ruffled his feathers. It shouldn’t matter. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t bother him at the slightest. A casual affair was all they were to each other, nothing more and nothing less. Unable to deny his yearning to acquaint his skin with this stranger’s own, he parted her legs. She obliged with a moan, her fingers shivering with anticipation as she encircled his shaft and stroked him before guiding him to her entrance. He slid inside her, groaning, but as he went on further, the tightness and the exquisite clench of her walls around him led him to an unbelievable conclusion. “You… You’re a virgin?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She turned her head away, covering her flushed face with the back of her hand, her chest heaving. “It’s not as if I’m completely innocent. I’m a demon, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Then, why?” he asked, unsheathing himself from her and leaning back, confused.

She pulled away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around her naked body, vulnerable at her confession. “You could say that tonight is my initiation. My fellow succubi brought me to this world to lure a mortal man, seduce him, and become a full-fledged succubus.

“It’s all garbage to me. If I fail, I would be deemed unworthy and become labeled as a regular demon, and if worse comes to worst, I could die at the hands of my kind, but then again, I could have done so with yours tonight, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m still not going down without a fight.”

As these customs were unknown to him, the possibility of her strange sense of purity being intact was something that never crossed his mind. From the burning need in her gaze to the passion in her touches to the ardor in her kisses… This succubus was a temptress through and through, and yet...

She equated his quiet moment of contemplation with disgust. “We’ve accomplished your purpose tonight, haven’t we? If that’s all, you can leave.”

“No,” he growled, the audacity of her dismissal offensive to him. Lucifer grabbed her by her hips and returned her to where she was before—where she rightfully belonged tonight. Despite her assumption, he found it quite the opposite. To be the first one to bring this creature to the highest of the highs for the first time in her existence, he felt gratification and triumph. He pinned her wrists over the mattress and hovered over her, regarding her with both want and need, intent on finishing what he started thoroughly. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“But you… I… I see.” Her eyes flickered from his grasp on her to his carnal gaze, understanding. “Do you enjoy that? Do you like being in control?”

“Yes. Very much so,” he admitted.

She nodded, and as if she was repenting for her behavior, he felt her surrender and submission as her whole body went lax underneath him, giving him permission to do as he desired. Lucifer rewarded her with a kiss, an absolution she was more than happy to receive, her body quivering with anticipation for more.

And so, Lucifer knew her.

He parted her legs, aligned himself against her slick entrance, and once again eased his length inside. She shut her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing and moans falling past her lips with every inch of him she graciously received. Once he had fully buried himself inside her, his body tensed as he kept himself from unsheathing himself and thrusting into her again and again with wild abandon.

Breathless, she opened her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to continue. “You don’t need to be so gentle. I’m not one to break so easily. I can handle you.”

At the reassurance, he found no doubt in her capability to do so, and for that he was glad. He was done holding back. “You asked for it.”

Guided by his primal instincts, he slammed inside her relentlessly, the grasp he had on her wrist tightening as his every thrust grew in intensity. It was a connection of two troubled souls: an angel and a devil in an act of consummation outside the sanctity of marriage. As he sank into her and her hips met his every movement, they crossed the line between the sacred and the profane. It was as if both of them were each other’s tools. Tonight, he was saving her by ruining her, and she was ruining him as a catalyst for his rebellion. But at the same time, no event in his existence has ever felt so intimate. A decision made with his free will, this was the night he welcomed the dark side he didn’t know he had, or perhaps, he has always had but laid dormant inside him—too enamored by his light to show up, but now shining in its own in the company of darkness.

At the frenetic pace of the meeting of their bodies, her hands clenched into fists, and she trembled underneath him and climaxed. No painting hung on the hallways did this moment justice: the sweat on her forehead, her reddened cheeks, her swollen lips—everything about her screamed unadulterated lust. Every detail dissolved into white light as he chased his own peak. His eyes shut, his jaw slackened, and his cock pulsated inside her with his release, leading him to loosen her wrists from the restraints of his palms.

As she took him in her embrace, found his lips with her own, and shifted their positions for another bout of their illicit liaison, she freed him from the noose surrounding his neck that was his halo. He should be feeling the darkness of the pit, yet he has never felt so high, the pure bliss that any promised land could never compare to taking over his whole being.

Lucifer had sinned.

And he saw that it was good.

Lucifer strode through the mansion’s courtyard, navigating through the zigzag of the maze as if it was second nature to him. The fragrance of roses stronger than ever, he sped past the fountain with the little demon, the water giving off a beautiful sparkle as the night slowly met the day. Soon, he was at the spot he landed on a few hours ago. As he was about to change into his natural form, a voice halted him and made him turn around.

“Wait!” the succubus called.

She emerged from the exit of the maze and ran toward him, barefoot, wearing that white nightdress again and smiling when she found him waiting for her.

Why wasn’t she wearing any sandals? Did she traverse in the maze with those bare feet of hers? Lucifer didn’t care, but through the confusion, he asked instead, “What are you doing here? Why did you follow me?”

“Here. These are for you.” She waltzed over to him and took his gloved hand in hers, securing the handle of the picnic basket she held in it. “More Princess’s Poison Apples and black tea leaves.”

“I didn’t ask for these.” He attempted to hand the picnic basket back to her, but she shook her head and stepped out of his reach.

“You liked them, I think, especially the apple,” she told him. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance to have a taste of this Devildom fruit? You’re welcome.”

He frowned, wondering if she was teasing him for trying to hide that fact. The picnic basket remained in his hand. If there was anything he learned in the few hours that he had known her, it was that she was not one to back down so easily, no matter what the circumstances were, including this one.

She roused him from his reverie by saying, “If you are already this beautiful in your human form, then I can only imagine how beautiful you truly are in your natural form.”

He masked his startled reaction with a sigh. Her assumption reminded Lucifer that she was unaware he was heaven’s most prized. To her, he was an angel who was about to stir trouble, and that was all she knew. He couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten that fact, but he still managed to admonish, “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Not if I’m being honest.”

“Vile succubus.”

“That’s me, angel.” She laughed and cleared her throat before continuing, “It’s none of my business, I know, but whatever you’re planning, it’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

He kept quiet, refusing to dignify her question with an answer.

She nodded, neither prying nor asking more. “It’s okay. I wish you the very best of luck.”

“I need no luck to succeed in it.”

“Maybe not.” She ambled closer to him and stood on her tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Take care. You know where to find me.”

How dare she brush her lips against his on her own accord, those lips he had so thoroughly kissed? How dare she suggest that the night they shared would have a repeat one day? How dare she suggest that he should seek her for another tryst? Though these questions plagued his mind as he gazed at her retreating form, a part of him knew deep down that she was someone he wouldn’t forget. The night he shared with her was a memory that would be branded inside his mind to last until the end of time.

It was the moment he had shifted his life into a new path with the defiance of his father’s insufferable orders and expectations. His transgressions—his blasphemous behavior—were serious matters his father would never let slide, and his fellow angels, the righteous and holy, would condemn his failure against morality. However, things had changed. All of those he had once loved about himself and now hated and strived to get away from no longer rooted his feet to the authority of someone else. He was no disciple who merely followed, and he would say no more prayers and sing no more praises. He existed no longer for his father’s purpose, but for his own. The sheer power of individualism spurred his ambition for he was now the master of his own fate and nobody else. He would no longer be invisible under his father’s shadow for he would assert his own greatness and take pride in his own merits.

“Be not afraid.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

Lucifer laughed, assumed his natural form, and spun around, the shining aura emanating from his wings faltering for a second before retaining their brilliance. He turned his head and took one last peek at her awed and stunned expression from above his topmost wings before he lifted his feet off the ground, leaving a beam of light in his wake as he went farther. Against the morning air, he flew high and soared in his own wings, the fragrance of freedom as fresh as the morning dew on the roses and leaves.

As the light slowly faded, she managed to collect herself and waved at him from below, wondering when their paths would cross again, if they ever would. When she saw him no more, she turned to leave, but something swirled down from the sky and caught her attention.

With a smile, she opened her palm and waited for the white feather to land on it.

Dawn had broken completely when the Morning Star ascended to the Celestial Realm. Standing in front of the gates of heaven, a revelation struck Lucifer and led him to stop and stare at the picnic basket in his hand.

He did not even know her name.

Special thanks to @photoproses for brainstorming with me and for being the first reader of this story.

And thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read this! 💙

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me! lucifer #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #shall we date #shall we date obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me one master to rule them all #swd obey me #Lucifer

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charliesradiodemon · 5 years ago

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Pwease pwease pwease do 15 passionately 💗💗charlastor , fat nuggets need it

(I was inspired by a couple of comics that are similar to this fic. For the sake of the fic making sense, Charlie never dated Vaggie and is single here.

Also don’t worry! I’m still working on Arranged Marriage! I’m just also working on many other things! You’ll be seeing an update soon! For now I’m bum rushing for Charlastor week!

Happy Valentine’s Day my friends ❤️❤️)

15. Passionate Kiss

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that humans came up with and celebrate once a year on Earth. It was a day of love and cherishing your significant others. Some even used the day to confess their love to another. Charlie remembered when she first heard of Valentine’s Day and only sighed at how sweet and romantic it sounded. But she never had anyone to celebrate it with. In her last relationship, Harold never wanted to celebrate the holiday in any way. He’d always tease her for wanting to practice “lowly human customs”. And before that, the holiday hadn’t even existed yet.

Today Charlie had a slew of ideas to celebrate the holiday with everyone at the hotel. Today was about love, and what better way to turn around a sinner than with love? And chocolate!

Before Charlie could skip out her door, she paused mid-step. “Oh!” She exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. A large red heart, along with a vase of red roses stood in her way. Had she finished that step, she would have crushed the heart entirely.

Charlie knelt and carefully picked up the glass vase and heart before backing into her room. She set the vase by her bedside and felt a smile creep up once she got a good view of the bouquet. The vase was simply brimming with perfect red roses, but there was no card amongst the densely packed flowers. Who could afford such a thing, Charlie wasn’t quite sure. It could have been from her parents, but they weren’t the biggest fans of Valentine’s Day considering the origins of the holiday. Nevertheless she loved the roses and took a deep whiff of their subtly sweet scent before heading out to find and thank whoever left them.

On her way down, she took a quick glance at the heart. She knew what hearts were and how it was a common symbol used on Valentine’s Day and for love in general, but this thing was different. When she shook it, it rattled. There was something inside, but how was she supposed to open it? Could she even open it?

When she reached the lobby, the giddy princess started her hunt at the bar to ask Husk first. When she got there Angel was already leaning against the bar counter, flirting with Husk so early in the morning.

Charlie skipped up to the bar, greeting both Husk and Angel a happy Valentine’s Day. She set the heart on the bar and slid it toward Husk. “Hey Husk, do you happen to know where this came from?”

Angel’s face lit up when he focused on the heart in front of Charlie. “Ohhhh! Who gave ya Chocolates toots?”

“Chocolates?”

“Aren’t they chocolates? I mean it’s Valentine’s Day, it’s gotta be chocolate.”

Charlie knew that lovers would exchange gifts like chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day, but she had no clue that the heart contained chocolate. She didn’t even notice that she could open it!

She turned to Angel, leaving Husk to his morning drinking. She placed her hand over the box and looked up at Angel. “Someone left me this outside my door…”

“Did they leave ya a note?”

“Nope.”

Angel quirked a brow. “Alright… that’s a lil’ creepy… Do ya think it’s safe? Maybe there’s no chocolates in there.” He pointed to the heart-shaped box with a suspicious look in his eye.

Charlie shrugged and looked around the heart until she found a prominent line under what seemed to be the lid of the box. She lifted it by the lid and wiggled it, letting the box slowly separate from the heart-shaped lid.

When the trio looked into the box, sure enough it was full of chocolates. “Oh wow these look pretty expensive,” Angel took one and closely examined the morsel. “Bet they taste expensive too,” He predicted before tossing the whole square into his mouth. “Yep! Damn that’s good!” He exclaimed before reaching over and grabbing four more pieces.

Suddenly, the blonde got between Angel and her gift. “Hey!” Charlie pouted. Little did she know, Husk also picked up a piece and tossed it in his mouth. His face scrunched and he washed the sweetness from his mouth with the beer he’d already been working on.

Angel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What, you’re gonna eat all that all by yourself?” He returned to lean against the bar and continued, “So expensive chocolates huh? Whoever gave ya that must really have it bad for ya Charlie.”

Charlie felt her face heat up at Angel’s comment.

“I wonder who the sucker is,” he looked around the lobby to find only a few of the patrons sitting around, waiting for breakfast. “Can’t be one of these bozos.” He huffed a laugh and popped another chocolate in his mouth.

Charlie took one of the squares and took a tentative bite. She perked up as the chocolate melted in her mouth, coating her tongue in it’s sweetness. It reminded her of the chocolates her parents would give her when she was younger. She tossed the rest of the delicious chocolate in her mouth and hummed in delight. “You’re right! It’s amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so dear.” A radio backed voice came from behind Charlie. She jumped and whipped around. Expectedly it was Alastor who stood fairly close to her with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Wait Al, this was you?” Charlie greeted the radio demon with a wide appreciative smile.

He nodded proudly. “Yes it was! I made it was only the best of the best!”

“The roses too?”

“Why of course! No-“

Angel gasped and yelled, “Woah woah woah! Roses?! Holy shit Romeo I didn’t know you were some kinda romantic!” The group eating breakfast turned their attention toward the commotion.

“Angel, it would be in your best interest if you would keep your mouth shut before I take it away.” He said in a crackling, eerie distorted voice. The air around the bar became increasingly thick with tension. Angel retracted back in fear while everyone at the breakfast table watched with interest, as if they were hoping the radio demon would make good on his promise.

Charlie slid the box between her and Alastor to grab his attention before the situation escalated. “Hey Al, why don’t you try one?” Immediately the heavy tension dissipated at the sound of her voice and Alastor returned his full attention to Charlie.

He chuckled and picked up a piece, casually examining it. “I’m not one for sweets my dear,” he bent forward slightly, holding the chocolate between two clawed fingers. He extended the chocolate right before Charlie’s lips. “I bought these for you, so why not have another and I’ll consider trying one.”

Charlie glanced up at him and then the chocolate. It was an odd deal but it seemed like it was harmless. She shrugged and opened her mouth to let Alastor place the chocolate on her tongue. She shut her mouth and let the chocolate melt over her tongue once more, savoring the flavor.

Alastor admired her face, which lit up with pure joy. Her smile never failed to set his heart on fire and inspire contentment at the same time. Today was the perfect day to show her exactly what she meant to him and when he continued to execute his flawless plan, she would be his by the end of the day.

But then his eyes drifted down to her closed mouth and watched it move with her swirling tongue. Though he didn’t enjoy sweets, his curiosity began taking over. Then his imagination. Then his hands and feet. Unknowingly, he moved closer and used his right hand to tip her chin up. He met her snapped open eyes before meeting her black lips.

He didn’t realize it either when his tongue forced its way into Charlie’s mouth. The dulled down sweetness of the chocolate on her tongue made the flavor bearable enough for him. It was good, even. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the high of the moment or the chocolate itself at this point. It was then he discovered that Charlie was kissing him back, her tongue moving with his and further amplifying the sweetness of the kiss.

Realizing what he’d done, Alastor pulled away. He never took his eyes off of her, not wanting to see the faces of the individuals around him. Usually he’d revel in the attention, but now he just exposed a soft side to him no one had ever seen before. He’d have to kill them all- no, that would upset Charlie.

Oh Charlie…

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. He’d inadvertently ruined all of his plans to whisk the princess off her feet and now he stood there like a fool. He needed to leave. He summoned his cane and tapped the floor, melting into a shadow that frantically slithered up the stairs.

The room was dead quiet. Charlie looked around to find all eyes on her. Even Angel Dusk was wide eyed and slack jawed in shock. Truly nobody expected that from Alastor, not even Charlie. She turned back around to hide her burning red face. He kissed her, and she kissed him back! Then another realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Today was Valentine’s Day and he gave her presents… and kissed her! Did he really feel that way toward her?

She needed to find him. She’d never find out if she didn’t ask. He went up the stairs so he must have retreated back to his room.

Without another word, Charlie slammed the lid on the chocolate box and sprint up the stairs with it in her arms.

‘He likes me! He really likes me!’ Charlie thought giddily, letting her emotional high carry her up the stairs.

Ever since she met him, she was drawn to his charm, his personality, his voice, his dancing- everything about him. Sure he wasn’t the kindest or most gentle mortal soul out there, but she’d always smile with him around. He was dangerous, Vaggie would always warn her, but Charlie didn’t care. No matter how bad the rumors about him were, she’d look past them and got to know him better. He could cook, he loved his mother and he’d always find ways to cheer her up in his own strange way. To her, he was human: flawed and full of his own unique personality. He was still a monster who committed atrocities, but Charlie still couldn’t help the aching in her heart. It was strange, but the heart wants what it wants.

When she realized her feelings, she immediately feared rejection. It was difficult to be around him at first, but over time it got much easier and she’d managed to push her feelings aside. After all, she didn’t want to scare her professional business partner away.

But now that was all coming to an end. She needed to talk to him and work this out.

Charlie knocked on his door and called out his name. When he didn’t answer, she tried the door knob. Surprisingly it was unlocked and when Charlie slipped into his room, she found Alastor sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly out the window with his signature smile.

When she approached, he snapped his gaze toward her. They stared each other down for a few moments. “Al, we need to talk.”

Alastor nodded and patted the bed beside him to which Charlie obliged. They now sat shoulder-to-shoulder in silence. It should have been awkward, but for some reason it felt comfortable. It almost felt natural. Charlie could feel him slowly relax beside her. He was calming down and Charlie smiled knowing that he was getting comfortable around her. Feeling brave, Charlie placed her hand to rest it on top of the hand that sat tensely on his knee. He flinched, but didn’t move away. Instead he shifted his hand to where he held her fingers in a gentle grasp. He even began to run his thumb over her knuckles.

When Charlie looked up at his reaction, he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze shifted down to their joined hands. His grey cheeks held a hint of red. His closed-lipped smile was soft and content. He greatly disliked being touched and yet here he was, being touched by her and looking completely at ease.

They didn’t need to speak after all. Their actions spoke a thousand words and they understood what the other wanted. This was new to them, but their interactions have never felt so natural and so sure. Charlie sighed and let her head fall to rest on Alastor’s shoulder. He jumped a bit, still not used to contact, but let his head fall to rest on top of Charlie’s head, relishing in the warmth that blossomed in his chest because of her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Al.”

#something cheesy n cute for valentine’s day #also sorry for slacking on the kiss asks but this one was perfect for valentines day huehue #charlastor #charlastor fic #im still working on them i have a few left #i might add more to this fic for the ao3 release

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hoodoo12 · 5 years ago

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Great Vengeance and Furious Anger (a Ménage continuation)

SFW; Beetlejuice/Angel Dewey Finn, intruder, minor violence, a true guardian

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @janitor-boy @dilfyjuice @ironmansuucks

Enjoy!

There was a sound.

A muffled sound.

A sound of stealth.

A footstep.

A deliberately soft footstep that was out of place in the deep of night, when the windows were open and crickets sang to each other, when it should be slow and sleepy and quiet.

A deliberately soft footstep in a room where no one should be, because the three who lived here were tangled on a bed.

Beetlejuice cocked his head and listened harder.

Beyond the Molly’s soft breathing and Dewey’s equally soft mimic of breathing, there were more footsteps. In the living room.

Moving smoothly to avoid disturbing his lovers, he slipped off the edge of the mattress. Dewey muttered something incoherent and the wing that he liked to blanket the two of them under fluttered. Molly sighed and even though asleep, sensed Beetlejuice wasn’t beside her. Instead of waking, she flipped and snuggled closer to the angel.

Good.

They could stay together, asleep. He’d go find out and take care of whatever--whoever--was in the other room.

He’d eliminate it.

Light-footed as a cat, he crept from the bedroom.

Just as he’d suspected, just as he’d feared and hoped, there was a guy quietly going through Molly’s things. Specifically the drawers she kept some of her supplies for rituals and spellwork. Beetlejuice almost laughed; if the guy was expecting to find silverware or jewelry, he was going to be sadly disappointed!

But the intruder didn’t seem to be upset or disgusted by what he found. Holding a penlight wrapped in red cellophane in his mouth, he used both hands to pick up and discard various items. Random things, uncommon things like a porcupine foot and a bit of a corpse flower preserved in purified rain water, he slipped into the satchel at his side. The guy was systematic and thorough, and that was unnerving.

He knew what to expect from this house. He knew what he was looking for. This wasn’t a simple burglary.

The man finished with one drawer and went to the next. It was one Molly had sealed with green and white wax along the edges of the drawer. With no hesitation, the intruder broke the wax and pulled the drawer open. The faintest suggestion of a glow was visible as it came free.

Eyes wide and his lips pulled back to show his teeth, Beetlejuice sunk to the floor into a crouch.

That drawer was special. That drawer was important. Molly kept the most private, most intimate, things there. Protected by wards and prayers, lined with deep purple velvet, it contained three crystal vials: one with a fingernail he’d broken off, one containing a small downy feather from Dewey’s wings, and the smallest that held several of her hairs. Bound together with red string, the collected parts of them were symbolic of their commitment to one another.

And this thief was pawing into that sacred space.

Beetlejuice could be invisible. He could simply walk up to the guy and twist his head off his neck, damn the mess it would make. But where was the fun in that? This intruder needed to be made to fear, made to understand he had broken into the wrong house, even if he was looking for magical artifacts.

He crept forward on all fours, tentacles erupting from him and sliding along the floor like inkstains even darker than the shadows that cloaked the room. He licked his teeth and cut his tongue on their points, and grinned as he readied himself to launch at this fool, and make him pay.

All muscles tensed, sharpened fingernails digging into Molly’s carpet and tentacles writhing, eager to envelope the man, he took one second to relish the anticipation of the attack.

In that one second, the man’s hand closed around the three vials. He smiled too, and snapped the fingers of his other hand, and Beetlejuice was frozen, pinned like an insect to a board.

“Demons are so predictable,” the man muttered in a bored tone.

He couldn’t even move his eyes. Whatever this man had done, Beetlejuice was trapped. He watched, helplessly, bloody drool collecting on and then dripping from his lower lip because he couldn’t swallow, as the intruder examined his prize, shaking the three vials to get a better look at what they contained. He sighed and glanced down at his captive.

“A fingernail? That’s a bit mundane, don’t you think? You could have at least provided spit or semen.”

Even his tentacles, his shadow mass, were immobilized. He had no recourse, no protection as the man picked his way closer to him. He squatted when he was within a foot. Beetlejuice had no idea how he appeared to the man, in the muted red of the light he held. Terrifying? Pathetic? If he could simply break free, he’d tear him limb from limb, he’d make him pay for what he was doing, he’d kill him and feed his ghost to a Sandworm, then bumrush him straight to the Lost Souls’ Room for an eternity of desolate hopelessness--

“I think one of these would be a much better sample.”

In impotent anger that melted towards horror, Beetlejuice watched the man lift a tentacle. It was pliant and loose, like it belonged to someone else, but he could feel the pinch of the man’s grip. So he was pinned, but not nerveless. The silver edged knife that suddenly appeared in the intruder’s hand to lop off his tentacle was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, and he couldn’t do anything but watch it happen--

“TRESPASSER!” declared a voice with the toll of the deepest bell, a voice so deep the vibration of it was painful in not only his ears but his chest.

It hurt the man too, because he dropped everything he was holding--his knife and his penlight and the vials he’d pilfered--and automatically put his hands over his ears.

A brilliant white light erupted behind him, burning out all details of the room. Beetlejuice was happy he was facing away, because otherwise unable to blink he would have been blinded. His shadow mass disappeared under the intensity of the light, and he dropped flat to the carpet like he was a puppet that had its strings cut. He could move again, but didn’t.

“YOU DARE ENTER UNINVITED, YOU DARE TO TOUCH THAT WHICH IS NOT YOURS?”

At the burst of eye-burning brilliance, the intruder threw himself backward. Unable to cover both his ears and eyes, tears streamed down his face and he cried out. The noise he made was lost in the echo of Dewey’s words.

The light fluxed, and with his own eyes leaking tears, Beetlejuice squinted as Dewey stepped lightly over him, descending on the man. Wings outstretched, looking like every vengeful, smiting, wrath of God depiction of an angel ever created, he was cloaked in white-hot light. A true guardian angel, unchained. It hurt too much to look at him directly for more than a moment.

“THIS TRANSGRESSION DOES NOT WARRENT FORGIVENESS.”

Beetlejuice rapidly blinked his stinging eyes. Now that Dewey was between him and the intruder he could only hear the man trying to scramble backwards on the floor. He was sobbing and begging, his words tumbling over themselves in his effort to stop the angel from descending closer. The sharp smell of piss as the man’s bladder emptied made Beetlejuice grin.

“SILENCE.”

To his credit, the man immediately obeyed that word. Dewey’s voice, still tolling like a bell, seemed to echo in the confines of the living room.

It was still too bright to see exactly what happened next, but it appeared that as Dewey stood over the intruder, his wings came around and enveloped him. The man gave one final blubbering sob, and then as quickly as turning off a switch, the blinding holy light that had erupted from Dewey was gone.

Beetlejuice lay where he was, stomach down on the floor, for a moment longer. He would have expected his vision to be burnt out longer, or for his ears to ring, but neither of those happened. The house was as quiet and still as it had been before he’d been aware someone had broken in.

The only evidence there’d even been someone else was the satchel, the dropped penlight and knife, the wet spot of urine soaked into the carpet, and the three crystal vials on the floor. The man himself was gone.

Dewey turned and padded back over to him, his wings now tucked along his back. Wearing only boxer shorts, he looked less like an avenging angel and more someone half awake looking for a midnight snack. He stepped over the objects left in the intruder’s wake, but Beetlejuice stretched forward and snagged the vials as Dewey helped him to his feet.

“What did you do to that asshole?” he asked, as the angel looked him over fretfully and gently wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“I sent him away. Dropped him in a park about a hundred miles away. Wiped his memory of anything to do with witchery. He’ll just be another boring accountant, as stereotypical as they’re made out to be.”

Beetlejuice chuckled.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, even though Dewey continued to look him over like maybe he wasn’t being truthful.

“I appreciate the assist. I didn’t expect him to have one up on me.”

The angel smiled. “I’ll let you take out the next intruder. Come on, let’s go back to bed. We can tell Molly what happened tomorrow, and let her know she’s got a new knife.”

He slipped an arm around the demon’s waist to lead him back to the bedroom. Beetlejuice paused a second, to slip the three vials back into the velvet lined drawer meant for them. He shut it and made a mental note to have Molly re-seal the drawer.

“You sounded pretty apocalyptic, Dew,” he teased lightly. “You dare touch that which is not yours, and all that. I’m glad you saved all of Molly’s stuff.”

“Hmm?” the angel replied, again sounding more than half asleep. “Oh. That. I didn’t mean the ingredients or even those little vials. I meant you, baby.”

Dewey pressed a kiss to the side of the demon’s head, and herded him back to bed.

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Dewey Finn #Beetlejuice x Dewey Finn #AU

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, CLAUDIA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GABRIEL.

Admin Rosey: Wow - this was a terribly difficult decision to make. All the applications for Gabriel were so beautiful. But Claudia, have you no mercy? Gabriel has always held a rather special place within my heart simply because he is so unique unto himself, even among the entire legion of angels. You said it so aptly, but so cruelly: take an angel, give him everything but leave one thing missing. It’s a rather wicked script that one has to follow, isn’t it? But there is something terribly delicious about how this application doesn’t hold back on reading him right to his bones. You saw him for what he was: hunger, hunger, hunger. And you let us know that as well. The details, the small -isms that you gave him granted him such life that I couldn’t say no. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

Alias

claudia

Age

Personal Pronouns

she / her

Activity Level

i work full-time but i’m always checking the dash or else staying up to date with plotting in the dms in between replies. and of course weekends are my most active times.

Timezone

gmt+10

Triggers

REMOVED

How did you find the group?

following a bunch of the wonderful people who were involved in its creation

Current/Past RP Accounts

here

IN CHARACTER

Character

gabriel

What drew you to this character?

so gabriel was not the first character that sparked my interest and the aesthete in me is very much compelled to justify in metaphor (you know, the whole “there’s this japanese phrase i like: koi no yokan. not love at first sight but second sight. the feeling that when you meet someone that you’re going to fall in love with them. maybe not right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.”). the truth is, i came into thc very much wanting to play a sexy morally ambiguous antagonist and agent of chaos that could wreak havoc and plot death and destruction. admittedly, i had only skimmed gabriel’s bio when it was released.

there’s an ancient roman crying out for blood in the colosseum in everyone that will always be drawn to the dark and the delicious possibility of amorality, because good and evil lies on a spectrum and exploring the shades of grey in between is so much more interesting than delving into a character who positions themselves so firmly at either end and says no, this is me, this is what i am and my conviction will not waver. or, to quote another beloved symbol, idol, champion of the people, that believed so fervently in a cause that the martyrdom nearly killed him, “when the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world — “no, you move.””

it is hard to write good. it is hard to take a character that is so infinitely good and compassionate, someone who is motivated by these enormous, intangible concepts like love and justice and peace, and capture them in words.

how do you explain why gabriel loves humans? how do you explain how he still loves them, fights for them, protects them, when everything his brothers and sisters did to him was because the humans dared to love him back? it’d be like asking the question of god himself — why? you claimed to love humans above all and yet you gave the strength, grace and majesty of immortality and wisdom to the angels. they were your firstborn, and humans were the spoiled youngest child. the unruly, overindulged creatures that got away with everything, that sinned and yet were still worthy of salvation.

for most people, gabriel is the first angel they ever learn about. gabriel coming to nazareth, gabriel saying be not afraid as he explains how a human woman will be the genesis of the son of god. he is the first. and understanding why gabriel loves humans, as god did, perhaps even more, comes back to the beginning, too.

gabriel was created the incarnation of hunger. and i am literally obsessed with the concept of ‘hunger’ in it all its forms, literary, cinematically, poetically. it’s fascinating because it’s not a concept that belongs to either good or evil, it’s simply a force, a manifestation of pure instinct. but we so often associate it with evil, and even in the bible, too much hunger is condemned. you could argue that the seven deadly sins are simply just an extrapolation of hunger in its myriad guises. the idea that you could be made perfect — as all angels are — and yet be left with this gaping chasm inside you, this endless hunger, a hunger that demands to be fed and nurtured, sated with divine higher purpose, is like, my literary achilles’ heel. why does gabriel love humans? how could he not? he was made in their image, and they in his.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character?

THE SUN NEVER SETS ON THE HOLY LAND.

that thing i said about wanting to play a sexy character? well gabriel being the sun and the third arm of the governing body that rules over the holy land is extremely sexy. it’s a shame he doesn’t much care for it. oh, he likes the concept of being a key guardian of freedom and peace across the new world but power holds no sway over him. and ironically that’s what makes him so inherently powerful. gabriel was the natural choice for the sun — beloved by humans, martyred for his love and sacrifices for them — he’d already burned for so long, so quietly, in service of bringing justice to the world. but gabriel has never needed a title to serve. he was born a messenger, a soldier, he has never needed a crown.

and despite what they say, heavy is the head, it is a crown perfectly made for him. the sun — illuminating and all-consuming, the source of all life and light in the world — is all-seeing. all-powerful. gabriel learned at god’s side what it means to rule. and a messenger is not so different from a prophet, from an orator. when he speaks, the world listens.

gabriel is well aware that michael sees the tridium power as child’s play, and their brotherhood as a means to influence the tridium, and thus the entirety of the holy land. power feeds and power corrupts and the lack of it will drive people like his brothers to insatiable madness. gabriel used to play peacemaker amongst his brothers, always defending the mortals or softening the aftermath of their fathers’ worst outbursts. now, as the sun, he stands above them. it is not a position he ever campaigned for but he’d won it all the same by democracy. the angel of the people, the sun of the holy land. he’s never pressed his influence over his brothers, always careful to tread the line of how his title benefits them and advances caelum’s purposes — celestial beings have always done things in three, after all. do i want to see him flex that power and unleash the full weight of his influence and majesty and just go absolutely supernova ham? of course. but it will take more that some sibling bickering and infighting to spark that wildfire. i don’t know yet what that spark would be, whether it’s demons meddling in tridium business or some political shift in the paradigm, but gabriel is not someone you want to cross.

do not mistake his kindness for weakness. the sun gives life as easily as it can set it ablaze.

LOYALTY WILL BE THE LAST BASTION TO CRUMBLE.

now this is entirely dependent on the dynamic of the three, in particular whoever is elected as the stars, but i see the tridium as a wildcard amidst all the vacillating allegiances and power plays of the holy land.

gabriel believes in the true purpose of the tridium, he believes each faction is entitled to equal authority over protecting the peace and future of the holy land. a true system of checks and balances, a democracy that amplifies the voices of the weak and powerless and upholds the cause of the vulnerable and the oppressed. whether that’s in the political interests of azazel and the future stars remains to be seen.

from the very beginning, gabriel would have been vitally curious about azazel. his former sister, a fallen angel. it is not his place to forgive, but he forgives nonetheless, as god would have. if he was not a thing made of hunger, the way she was a thing made of desire, maybe he would have fallen, too. he, more than anyone, had the right to fall. but he didn’t, and she did, and she’s done quite well for herself in the millennia since. finding herself a new throne, new family, even a new brother to dote upon her. in spite of his instincts and the holiness that riots in his veins against the thought of colluding with demons, even under the new testament, he understands. he doesn’t blame her. so, i will leave this entirely tbd for plotting but i could see either a strange, inexplicable friendship between them or a playful, vicious dynamic with an underlying current of empathy.

in many ways the moon and the stars will be the closest people gabriel has to true equals. he is no longer purely archangel, he is other. he must represent the interests of all of the holy land. trusting them would be folly, but unlike the ages of old, the name of the game is no longer a zero-sum winner takes all scenario. if the peace fails, the world will crumble into bedlam. is it a doomed act, attempting to balance the three factions upon the scales of peace? perhaps. perhaps they are playing a losing game, betting against the house, delaying the inevitable. it would be one thing to manipulate the balance of power between them, feeding the poison of their faction into their governance. it would be another if any one of their factions actually won.

why did they call themselves the sun, the moon, the stars? because they are figureheads, above all. symbols of caelum, infernum, the holy land. their factions all believe them to be puppets, leverage for their own political hunger and thirst for power. they are not blind. if either of their sides emerges from an inevitable all out war situation, what will happen to them? crownless, purposeless, no kingdom left to rule. certainly not a kingdom that will be theirs.

azazel wants to be worshipped. gabriel wants to burn until righteousness has scoured all evil from the holy land. the stars will inevitably be someone equally chaotic. they’re all that stands between the holy land and desolation. it’s like the perfect office workplace drama set-up. i would like to see it.

HUNGER IS THE MOST HUMAN THING OF ALL

throughout time, gabriel has had his favourites. he’s his father’s son, after all. zacharias, mary, noah. if these were the ages of old, he might have counted revna among those ranks. if gabriel were not an immortal angel, this would be called having a friend. but because gabriel is who he is, he considers them more like wards. like he’s taken it upon himself to be their self-appointed guardian angel.

it’s lonely being an instrument of god, and now the sun of the holy land, like what do you imagine he does after a long day of work? relax? of course not. so having a friend is nice. and having someone he can talk to, free of all the baggage and weight of being who they are, is like a glimpse of the peace he hasn’t known since before he had wings.

with revna, as with every mortal he had ever taken under his golden wings, he swallows any thought of just how mortal they are. how short-lived. in a blink, she will die. in another, her name will be forgotten, nothing more than a memory imprinted in a lonely angel’s mind. he tries not to think too much about mortality, or the whims and follies of mortals, the lengths they will go to in the name of survival that he has never dreamed. their freedom is predicated on living long enough to taste it. is it such a crime to want to live? for all their limitless powers and immortality, no angel and demon will ever know what that feels like — the sheer, visceral incandescence of burning so fleeting but so brilliant that to die is nothing. to live is the ultimate choice.

also… their powers are literally antithetical to each other. revna creates reality for all the senses, and gabriel deadens them. hello, let’s talk about that!

i’ll keep this brief or else i’ll spend days spiralling into interesting tangents and possibilities but other than the archangels and select few higher-ranking angels are aware of his powers. they think he doesn’t have any. to reveal this aspect of himself, a bearing of something like his true self or maybe even a soul, would be very spicy. in case anyone needs a reminder that all angels are terrifying and just because gabriel is pretty and warm like the sun, you shouldn’t believe he is anything less than terror carved into the sublime.

SO THIS IS HOW LIBERTY DIES. WITH THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE.

this is the darkest timeline plot where i throw a dice just to see where it lands. i don’t see gabriel deviating too much from his course, because he is the tree (planted by the river, if you remember the earlier quote), and he will destroy himself before he has to bend or break beneath the whims of external chaos.

of course, it’s fun to the think about the hypotheticals so i’m going to do that. if the tridium falls, where does that leave gabriel? and to whom will his allegiances lie? if michael or raphael are the cause, would he stand beside caelum all the same? gabriel loves humans because he wants to; he loves his siblings because they are his blood and bone. rip to the angels but you and the mortals are not the same.

he’s also seen how the holiness of the angels have been twisted and warped over time, through countless wars and inimitable suffering, yes. but they’ve changed nonetheless. some amongst them are closer to their fallen brethren than anyone would ever dare to admit but gabriel sees all. he was the angel they left to rot in the farthest corners of heaven, he was the one whose wings were torn, not by enemies of heaven but by his own brothers. and he did not fall. so either gabriel is made of stronger stuff than all the angels or he is the dumbest of them all. it’s very likely both. his faith in the existence of the angels is resolute, unwavering after all this time. his righteousness has burned for a thousand years and it will burn a thousand more until the sun swallows everything and all things cease to exist. if he has to turn against brother and sister, as they did with him, and unquestioningly at that, then he will.

he has sworn to smite any creature that will strike down an innocent before him, and whether angel or demon, it’s a quest that he will pursue to its ruinous end.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character?

yes, preferably by going supernova in a blaze of gory and carnage.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation

it all comes back to hunger, baby. let’s do this as a thought exercise. imagine god in his build-a-bear workshop for angels creating gabriel like he’s pandora’s box:

take an angel, give him everything but leave one thing missing.

don’t tell him what it is.

teach him the hole inside him is called hunger and that hunger is love, hunger is sacrifice, hunger is knowing that the kingdom of heaven is empty and god is not enough.

take an angel, give him hunger, and then wonder why he becomes more human than human.

gabriel is driven by the insatiable wanting in him to do good. i will note that it is, in a fact, a want and not a need because this in itself is the thing that distinguishes him from his brothers. in a way, falling in love with humanity was an act of free will, and thus an act of defiance. god wanted him to protect his children, yes, but he had never intended for him to enjoy it. he had never foreseen that gabriel, filled with compassion and thirst for justice, would come to empathise with the humans. he never could have imagined that creating an angel out of pure hunger could make him more akin to human than divine. and that was god’s mistake. it’s the mistake of anyone that looks at him and sees weakness — why would a creature so powerful deign to care for humanity? why should he care if they live or die, or wage war or hurt each other? — they imagine that his relentless pursuit of a better world is because he was made for it. no, gabriel chose this world. he chose to strike down god and tear his throne down with his teeth. he chose remake the world better, brighter, braver.

and as god will tell you, beware any that dare stand in his way.

Character Traits

INCANDESCENT — there isn’t really a word that captures gabriel’s essence other than in terms of sunlight and burning. being near him is like turning skywards and feeling of the sun on your face. he is radiant, and charismatic and magnetic, and it ignites a sort of hunger in you to be close to him, to listen to him speak, to tell him everything about you and answer any question he asks, if only to be in his presence for a little longer. to be under the shade of his attention is like being pinpointed at the center of the universe. it’s gratifying, and incredibly intoxicating, being given the sole focus of one of the most powerful beings in the holy land. for a moment, you are the one, and everything else falls away into shadow. but of course, reality snaps back and everything and everyone is simply whirling around in orbit of gabriel, the sun.

COMPASSIONATE — before he was the sun, he was the archangel of the people, the guardian of humans and the champion of god’s most beloved children. out of all the angels, gabriel was the one who took pains to mean it when he said be not afraid. he wore their skin and learned to smile like humans — with the eyes, not just with the mouth — because it would comfort them instead of scare them. as a former messenger, gabriel’s also an excellent listener. he gives excellent advice, too, being naturally sympathetic to the plights and suffering of anyone he meets. he hates injustice and wrongdoing and if it’s in his power, he’ll do anything to help you rectify your circumstances. he’s a very giving person, and despite his various duties and responsibilities, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth for someone if he believes it’s a cause worth serving.

SELF-RIGHTEOUS — the other side of the embodiment righteousness coin. because when you have a creature as all-powerful and driven as gabriel is, his morality is absolute. there is no room for grey or doubt in the eyes of the self-proclaimed moral compass of the holy land. good and evil lie on a spectrum but gabriel will play the trinity himself if that’s what it takes: judge, jury and executioner.

GRACIOUS. UNYIELDING. SPITEFUL.

In-Character Para Sample

Heaven is cold, if you could believe it. There are places in the kingdom of God where the sun holds no dominion. No, everything here is ruled by and under Him. His omniscience and omnipotence is all. His kingdom is coldest where light shies from the darkness, held at bay by the divine liminality of here and nothingness. You cannot define a space that is simply nothing, simply an absence. An abyss would be too poetic a word for it, this black hole spinning ad infinitum into the dark, soaking up every molecule of anything that could be constituted as being. It is a nothingness. It is a forever of nothingness.

This is where they keep their prisoners.

If you imagine God to be cruel, consider for a moment what he does to his own children.

It could be a month, it could be a millennia, that has passed since they cast him into the shadows of Heaven and left him here. Not to rot, or decay, but to exist; the cruellest punishment of all. Suspended in a vacuum of seeing, feeling, hearing, touching, tasting, a mockery of his own abilities. In the realms of hell, they might call this purgatory. The architects of Heaven would never deign to give a place like this a name.

Gabriel counts seconds and minutes here and there to pass time. A mindless, thoughtless exercise that intrudes upon the endless, desolate stretch of infinity. It keeps him from thinking about his wings and how he might never fly again.

There is no air here to fly, to surge up and taste wind between his feathers. He’s thankful for it — perhaps the only godforsaken grace he’s been granted, a pitiful stroke of thoughtless mercy — if only because it means he cannot attempt it. He thinks if he were to try, wings screaming for clemency, searing fire along his back and down his chest, and fall, that would be the last of him. And if there is nothing left of Gabriel, what would that make him? A creature of divine agony and writhing torment. A monster better suited to hell. If he could claw his way out of the unseeable and untouchable bars of this prison, perhaps he would see that Lucifer had been right.

God was weak. He deserved to be struck down. He deserved to have everything taken from him, as he had taken everything from them.

In the embrace of the void, Gabriel oscillates through every emotion at his disposal. Humanity taught him a great deal about feeling. How hatred and loathing simmered like poison in the blood; how the blaze of fury clawing up your throat could incinerate reason and logic; how love was a form of magic, a trace of stolen divinity pressed between the lips of mortals, enveloped in bodies and hands and kisses. Gabriel did not understand love the way humans did. His love was a consuming thing, a devotion like worship. Like self-immolation. He loved God because that was what he was made for. He loved his brothers because he fought and bled for them, because they were carved from the same grace and streak of lightning crackling through the heavens.

He did not know if he loved God the way humans loved him. They had never seen him, never felt his magnanimous smile or the great vastness of his presence, and yet they believed. They believed so fully, so viscerally, they would die for him anyway. They lived their tiny, fleeting lives grasping for the sky, dreaming and hoping of one day seeing him.

Gabriel saw God all the time, but his love was a necessity to him like existence. It was not a choice.

Did that make it lesser? Was it less true because humans chose and he did not?

Sometimes, he sits here, floating in the forgotten recesses of Heaven’s prison, and wonders if maybe God had truly made a mistake. Why give the angels everything, but free will? Why give the humans nothing and only free will? It was inexplicable, the ultimate riddle wrapped in an enigma, obscured by God’s will and word, that the angels had been asking since Adam and Eve and the garden.

In the time he floats, wavering between ire and despondence, rage and bitterness, he thinks he finds the answer. — The reason why God loved humans above all. The reason why he’d chosen them, blessed them, forgiven them.

Humanity was given the choice. And they had chosen God, in spite of everything.

If he had granted the angels the same freedom, would they have chosen Him?

Extras

PINTEREST.

#accepted #accepted: gabriel

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 5 years ago

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The Many Stories

A spn au with the story of two brothers

Kim Seokjin and Kim Jungkook; Hunting monster and Saving people

wc:1616

“Okay so I’m going out to the bar right now. I need a break from all the books about how a demon can enter someone’s body.” Seokjin said as he shivered at having remembered one specific way they enter the body of someone.

Seokjin, Jungkook and you were doing some research about a certain case that they were working on at the moment and then you all got side tracked and chose to start a game. Whoever could read the grossest sentence from any random book wins ice cream. Yea it’s a dumb little game, but that’s what makes spending time with the boys enjoyable for you. They’re your family, yea you were with the other angels when you were up in Heaven, but everyone didn’t feel like family to you. Most of them took their certain task too seriously; you were technically just a soldier for God and Heaven.

...

You were never one to medal in other earthly affairs if they weren’t needed for your attention, but something about the Kim’s drew you into them and their MANY problems. You were just coming down to Earth to look into them and then leave...but you never did, and when the angels started causing plots against your boys they asked you-

“The Kim’s or us? Your family (Y/n), you belong on our side.” One of your very few angel friends said.

“Jimin, you know I do care about you- but...just something about those boys draws me towards them. I’m sorry, but I’m going to be on their side during all of this. So you can either respect my decision or you were never my friend.” You started standing your ground.

With your head held high and your heart sinking just a little with the look Jimin was giving you, you started forward. As you were walking past, Jimin reached out and grabbed your upper arm stopping you abruptly. You kept your face set not wanting to give in easily to Jimin.

You know what the other angels have said about you behind your back, come on just because your ‘angels’ doesn’t really mean you're all nice. They call you ‘weak’ ‘easily manipulated’ ‘soft hearted on the humans’.

‘Weren’t we supposed to be kind to the humans if God created them?’ that always bothered you whenever a fellow angel would call you weak. You can still kick their ass easily.

“Of course I’m your friend (Y/n) I just want you to know what the consequences will be for choosing the humans over us.” Jimin reasons with you getting to soften up a bit understanding where he’s coming from.

Jimin has always had a big heart, especially towards you mostly.

...

“Listen bird wings, you came to us. So why don’t you just tell us why you are here and we will decide what to do going forward.” Seokjin talked back to the angel who randomly appeared inside of the Men of Letters bunker.

Seokjin and Jungkook were back home after their case in California went sideways. Turns out, Lucifer is deciding to rise from Hell and wants to start the apocalypse, and he needs Jungkook’s body for that.

...

“Why are you telling us this again?” Jungkook asked when the demon- Taehyung told them what was happening with everything; the angels, Hell, Lucifer, apocalypse.

“Because stupid, I don’t really want Lucifer back. He’s a terrible ruler for Hell, he throws tantrums for no reason- well mostly having to do with his family to outcast him for eternity, but that's not my business. Look, I’m trying to get to the throne right now in Hell, but there is someone who is blocking my way. Another demon named Yoongi is currently on the throne taking over Hell’s management. He’s a dick.” Taehyung spat coldy.

Jungkook just looked to Seokjin to see he had his face in his hands like he wanted to just drink himself to death at this very moment. Jungkook turned back towards Taehyung and was just eyeing his body- well the body that he’s possessing at the moment. Jungkook didn’t trust him, why would a demon not want Lucifer back to rule Hell, it is his place after all.

“Well there isn’t really much that we can do about this whole situation Taehyung, we didn’t even know of this whole thing so not much is going to change.” Jungkook just stated.

Seokjin raised his head out of his hands and started forward towards the demon hoping to pin him against the wall, but Taehyung blinked out of the way appearing behind Seokjin instead. Taehyung kicked Seokjin hard in the butt causing him to hit the wall instead. Jungkook ran over to his hyung and helped him back up to his feet.

“Look, I’m here as a warning to you guys. I have information that can possibly help you if you ever get stuck on certain cases, but there will always be a price that comes with that. I’m a expensive guy after all. Oh also if you ever need to call me, just don’t let (Y/n) hear about it. She's the jealous type.” Taehyung smirked.

...

Jimin looked at the two humans and just took in their features.

Seokjin. He was just a bit taller than Jungkook, he had black hair that was sweeped back from his forehead, his cheeks were slightly chubby, they probably were holding onto the baby fat. His lips were plumed, but Jimin knew that they were kinda small compared to his lips. (Y/n) used to call them-

“You look like a Bratz doll with those plump lips of yours.” She would say out of nowhere and giggle knowing that Jimin had no idea what she was talking about.

“A what doll?” He would reply with confusion just like she knew he would.

“They are a doll brand down on Earth. They have very plump lips, you probably give them a run for their money.” She giggled

Jimin snapped out of his moment of sudden memory and turned to Jungkook.

Jungkook. Almost the same height as Seokjin, just a couple of inches shorter than him. Although Jungkook was looking like he was packing on a bit more muscle than Seokjin was. He also had black hair that was sweeped away from his forehead. Jimin noticed Jungkook had a tiny scar on his left cheek.

‘Now I know why (Y/n) liked these humans so much.’ Jimin said to himself, smirking slightly.

“Look I’m here looking for (Y/n). She hasn’t reported back to Heaven in a few days and she would always come up everyday to tell me she was safe. So what I want to know is what did you do with her?” Jimin’s voice deepened at the last statement.

...

The storm outside was raging, the wind was howling causing the shutters on the barn to blow up and down causing a loud disturbance. There were symbols of all types of religions and spiritual origins spray painted on the walls, floor and ceiling of the barn waiting for whatever type of monster that was coming for them.

Jungkook was left behind because Seokjin was doing...whatever Seokjin does if there isn’t a case going on, but Jungkook kept feeling something with a strong presence around him. So he had his hyung drop him off at one of their fellow hunter’s houses since he was a really close friend of theirs he was basically another family member, which was kinda funny because of his last name.

“Namjoon hyung how have you been doing?” Jungkook asked as he walked through the door to give his friend a big, warm hug.

Kim Namjoon has been a friend of the Kim brothers for a couple of years, Namjoon is just two years younger than Seokjin and he is three years olders than Jungkook. Namjoon became friends with Seokjin first because they met during a vampire case that was happening in Nebraska. Jungkook met Namjoon about a year after that case when Seokjin brought him to his house so they could look for research on demons (since they didn’t own a home at the time).

Anyway Jungkook and Namjoon were out in an abandoned barn that was on Namjoon’s property so they could try and lure in whatever creature Jungkook was feeling around him. As the wind was picking up speed both Jungkook and Namjoon looked towards each other.

“Hey Jungkook maybe we should head inside, this could be a storm coming.” Namjoon tried to reason out of Jungkook.

Jungkook shocked his head and turned back towards the entrance of the barn keeping his gaze steady in the doors and his hands on the shotgun he was holding cocked and ready to be fired if needed.

There was a loud CRACK of thunder and a flash of lightning before the doors of the barn opened and there stood a person.

Jungkook couldn’t make out their figure, couldn’t tell what they were. The figure just started to walk towards the two Kim’s and when they didn’t stop when they walked past a demon trap on the floor, Jungkook had his gun ready if they got any closer.

When they just kept walking, not taking a single second to stop, that's when Jungkook started to fire off shots along with Namjoon and his pistol. As Jungkook was cocking his shotgun to fire off more rounds a flash of lighting lit up the barn allowing for him to get a glimpse of the figure and what they were.

It was a woman, and behind her on the walls was the shadow of-

“Wings?” Namjoon whispered to himself like even he himself couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years ago

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Saints&Reading: Mon., Aug.4, 2020

Prophet Ezekiel (6th c.B.C.)

The Holy Prophet Ezekiel lived in the sixth century before the birth of Christ. He was born in the city of Sarir, and descended from the tribe of Levi; he was a priest and the son of the priest Buzi. Ezekiel was led off to Babylon when he was twenty-five years old together with King Jechoniah II and many other Jews during the second invasion of Jerusalem by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnessar.

The Prophet Ezekiel lived in captivity by the River Chebar. When he was thirty years old, he had a vision of the future of the Hebrew nation and of all mankind. The prophet beheld a shining cloud, with fire flashing continually, and in the midst of the fire, gleaming bronze. He also saw four living creatures in the shape of men, but with four faces (Ez. 1:6). Each had the face of a man in front, the face of a lion on the right, the face of an ox on the left, and the face of an eagle at the back (Ez. 1:10). There was a wheel on the earth beside each creature, and the rim of each wheel was full of eyes.

Over the heads of the creatures there seemed to be a firmament, shining like crystal. Above the firmament was the likeness of a throne, like glittering sapphire in appearance. Above this throne was the likeness of a human form, and around Him was a rainbow (Ez. 1:4-28).

According to the explanation of the Fathers of the Church, the human likeness upon the sapphire throne prefigures the Incarnation of the Son of God from the Most Holy Virgin Mary, who is the living Throne of God. The four creatures are symbols of the four Evangelists: a man (St Matthew), a lion (St Mark), an ox (St Luke), and an eagle (St John); the wheel with the many eyes is meant to suggest the sharing of light with all the nations of the earth. During this vision the holy prophet fell down upon the ground out of fear, but the voice of God commanded him to get up. He was told that the Lord was sending him to preach to the nation of Israel. This was the begining of Ezekiel’s prophetic service...keep reading OCA

Venerable Symeon of Emesa fool-for-Christ (590) and fellow Venerable John

The Monks Simeon, Fool-for-Christ, and his Fellow-Ascetic John were Syrians, and they lived in the sixth century at the city of Edessa. From childhood they were bound by close ties of friendship. The older of them, Simeon, was unmarried and lived with his aged mother. John, however, although he was married, lived with his father (his mother was dead) and with his young wife. Both friends belonged to wealthy families. When Simeon was thirty years old, and John twenty-four, they made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Venerable and Life-Creating Cross of the Lord. On the journey home the friends spoke of the soul’s path to salvation. Dismounting their horses, they sent the servants on ahead with the horses, while they continued on foot.

Passing through Jordan, they saw monasteries on the edge of the desert. Both of them were filled with an irrepressible desire to leave the world and spend their remaining life in monastic struggles. They turned off from the road, which their servants followed to Syria, and they prayed zealously that God would guide them to the monasteries on the opposite side. They besought the Lord to indicate which monastery they should choose, and they decided to enter whichever monastery had its gates open. At this time the Lord informed Igumen Nikon in a dream to open the monastery gates, so that the sheep of Christ could enter in.

In great joy the comrades came through the open gates of the monastery, where they were warmly welcomed by the igumen, and they remained at the monastery. In a short while they received the monastic tonsure.

After remaining at the monastery for a certain time, Simeon desired to intensify his efforts, and to go into the desert to pursue asceticism in complete solitude. John did not wish to be left behind by his companion, and he decided to share with him the work of a desert-dweller. The Lord revealed the intentions of the companions to Igumen Nikon, and on that night when Saints Simeon and John intended to depart the monastery, he himself opened the gates for them. He prayed with them, gave them his blessing and sent them into the wilderness.

When they began their life in the desert, the spiritual brothers at first experienced the strong assaults of the devil. They were tempted by grief over abandoning their families, and the demons tried to discourage the ascetics, subjecting them to weakness, despondency and idleness. The brothers Simeon and John remembered their monastic calling, and trusting in the prayers of their Elder Nikon, they continued upon their chosen path. They spent their time in unceasing prayer and strict fasting, encouraging one another in their struggle against temptation...keep reading OCA

1Corinthians 11:31-12:6 KJV

31 For if we would judge ourselves, we should not be judged.

32 But when we are judged, we are chastened of the Lord, that we should not be condemned with the world.

33 Wherefore, my brethren, when ye come together to eat, tarry one for another.

34 And if any man hunger, let him eat at home; that ye come not together unto condemnation. And the rest will I set in order when I come.

12 Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I would not have you ignorant.

2 Ye know that ye were Gentiles, carried away unto these dumb idols, even as ye were led.

3 Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.

4 Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit.

5 And there are differences of administrations, but the same Lord.

6 And there are diversities of operations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all.

Matthew 18:1-11 NKJV

Who Is the Greatest?

18 At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

2 Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, 3 and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.

Jesus Warns of Offenses

6 “But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea. 7 Woe to the world because of [a]offenses! For offenses must come, but woe to that man by whom the offense comes!

8 “If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you. It is better for you to enter into life lame or maimed, rather than having two hands or two feet, to be cast into the everlasting fire. 9 And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and cast it from you. It is better for you to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes, to be cast into[b]hell fire.

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

10 “Take heed that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that in heaven their angels always see the face of My Father who is in heaven. 11 For[c] the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost.

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Footnotes

Matthew 18:7 enticements to sin

Matthew 18:9 Gr. Gehenna

Matthew 18:11 NU omits v. 11.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristian #firstchristian #ancientfairh spirituality bible gospel wisdom

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ineffably-good · 5 years ago

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I Will Follow You Into the Dark (3/10) (Good Omens Fic)

Summary: in which Aziraphale wakes up in a strange, dark place. Crowley calls for reinforcements.

Read the whole thing on AO3 - it’s done!

Aziraphale awoke with a start. The first thing he noticed was that he was on a hard, stone floor. His head hurt abominably, and one entire side of his body was sore, as if he had been asleep for quite a while. He shoved himself up to a sitting position and looked around.

He was in something that looked like a tube station, although clearly defunct and long abandoned. A few spot lights had been clipped to the walls and were burning with a buzzy, stuttering sound, and he could see water pooled up in various areas, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a rat or two in a far corner. Otherwise it was dark, and as far as he could tell, deserted.

Feeling his head clearing a bit, Aziraphale stood and took a good look at the predicament he was in.

The ground around him had been painted with a series of glyphs and symbols in what appeared to be either red paint or blood. Candles were burning at the top of each sigil, and a quick sensory sweep told him that someone here knew what they were doing – they were not only beeswax, but they had been blessed.

He could see no one beyond the circle’s perimeter, at the moment, although he did note a camera set up on a tripod a little distance away. The blinking red light on top told him that it was on and working. He determinedly ignored it.

Aziraphale dug in his pockets, disturbed to find his phone gone. His sigil ring was also missing. Bloody thorough, he realized. He found what he was looking for – a wrapped mint he’d picked up at one of the bakeries this morning, something with a little heft to it. He tossed it carefully at a spot about three feet off the ground where the edges of the circle appeared to be and watched grimly as it bounced off an invisible wall and rebounded back to the ground at his feet.

Could he touch it? Aziraphale wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to be burned or knocked unconscious by the barrier, but he felt he had to try. He moved towards it slowly and edged a toe out to bring the tip of his shoe in contact with it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said, booming out of a crackling speaker behind him that he’d failed to notice.

The angel froze, then calmly took a step backwards. “Oh?” he said coldly. “And why not? You’ve got my attention – come out here and show yourself.”

The voice laughed. “You don’t command me, angel. Not at all. In fact I think you’ll find the opposite to be true.”

Aziraphale did not like the sound of this at all.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

Crowley lunged for the angel as the light flashed in his eyes but he knew even before his hands closed around empty air that he was too late. How could he not have realized? He’d been summoned before, centuries ago, and he knew some of the warning signs. In retrospect he could see that a few of the strange feelings Aziraphale had been having over the last few weeks – sudden chills, sleep disturbances, losses of balance on the street – were probably either early experiments at making contact or failed attempts at the summoning.

He was a bloody, fucking idiot and he was going to find his angel before one more second went by.

Crowley ruthlessly wiped the memory of the proprietor when she came back with a glass of water, then used his demonic influence to encourage her to close up shop for the day and go, leaving him alone to examine the site of the crime more closely on his own.

He knelt cautiously on the floor and laid his hands flat on the surface where Aziraphale’s feet had been touching, closing his eyes and extending his senses to try to get a trace on where the summoning had taken him. When that produced nothing, he sat up and tried to extend his senses to get a bead on where the angel himself was. He concentrated grimly, casting his energies out in a wide net, trying to locate him.

Where. Was. He.

He finally got a weak sense of Aziraphale, enough to tell him that the angel was alive, but it was muted and dispersed somehow, as if whoever had taken him had him shielded.

Unable to get any more information from his current location, Crowley miracled himself to the Bentley and raced for home.

Aziraphale looked around a bit more, trying to figure out exactly where he was. Something about the room he was in looked familiar; he was in a long, empty end of a tube station, and an old one at that. The end where he was imprisoned was wider than the other, and the track below him was oddly flat, without the usual pits and rails he was used to seeing. Where was he? He knew he knew it. There was no signage in sight to tell him.

Footsteps echoed ominously from down the hall, and Aziraphale squared himself up into a ready stance, relaxed but prepared for combat, as a figure stepped out of the doorway at the far end of the track, too far to make out details.

Looked human, was his first thought. That was something of a relief. He schooled his face into impassivity and waited until the figure got closer.

Another, darker figure slipped out of the doorway behind the man, but he or she stayed back in the shadows. Aziraphale tried to cast out and got a vague sense of demonic energy, but he couldn’t tell anything more.

Crowley slammed into the bookstore, checking the wards as he did so and finding them un-tampered with. He snapped his fingers to lock all the doors and window frames and lower the blinds, then pulled out his phone and dialed Anathema.

“It’s me. I know you were planning to come this weekend,” he said grimly in lieu of greeting, “but come now. Right now.”

Anathema sounded concerned. “Crowley? Is that you?” she said. “What’s happened?”

“Someone’s taken Aziraphale, and I need your help. Get down here, please, as soon as you can. Bring Newt if you must. Bring all your tools. Just get here.”

“I’m on my way,” she said.

While he waited, he pulled a series of books from Aziraphale’s private shelves and set to flipping through them feverishly looking for information about summonings. Most of what he learned he already knew. Summonings relied on sigils, which were, in essence, a drawing of a thought designed to connect one practitioner with one specific entity, be it demon, angel, or something far more obscure. Like a phone number. Summoning was a difficult art to practice, requiring strong intent, precise control, and a high degree of preparation. When done incorrectly, it was easily broken, but when done well it could be very effective.

Crowley hoped to Heav—to Hell—to someone that whoever summoned Aziraphale fell on the less experienced side of the spectrum.

The figure stepped closer; he was a man, Aziraphale was sure of it, tall and perhaps in his forties, wearing a dark suit cut in an older style, perhaps from the 1950s. His eyes were gray and difficult to see behind a pair of round-rimmed glasses he wore. He walked up to just outside the edge of the circle, and stood with his arms folded over his chest while examining the angel closely.

The man had an aura of ethereal power around him, licking at the edges like flame. It shouldn’t have been there. Aziraphale looked between him and the dark, shadowy figure at the other end of the station, considering the source of this power.

“Principality Aziraphale,” the man said, his voice steady and clear. “You’ve been a hard angel to track down. I’ve been attempting to summon you for weeks.”

Aziraphale fixed him with an impassive gaze. “Return me at once, and I will ensure that no harm comes to you,” he said calmly. “Otherwise I can make no such promises.”

The man laughed. “I believe you’re in no position to make threats at the moment, Principality. You see, I’ve made some adjustments to you, while you were sleeping.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “You did no such thing.”

“Just a small injection,” the man said. “A potion of my own devising, helps to make you more, shall we say, pliable to my will? You’re already bound to me, I know you’re aware of it, from the sigils. This inoculation just lowers your resistance. You’re infamous for your stubbornness.”

Aziraphale balled his hands into fists. “What do you want from me, you pathetic wretch?”

The man snapped his fingers and Aziraphale suddenly found his body gone rigid. “Politeness, for a start,” the man purred.

The angel tried to struggle but found he couldn’t move at all. The man snapped again and he shot backwards like a ragdoll, crashing into the far edge of the circle and painfully rebounding forward, landing hard on his hands and knees on the cement.

“Are you going to be civil?” the man asked, “or do I need to have you bash your face into the ground a few times?”

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and rose to his feet again, taking care to keep his temper under control for the moment. “Why am I here?”

“To put it quite simply, I need some of your materials for my work,” the man said.

Aziraphale held his stance and watched as the man stepped through the circle – clearly neither angel nor demon, then, as the circle was warded to prevent entry or exit of either – and then waved a hand almost casually at the angel.

“Freeze, Principality,” he said.

Aziraphale was intensely frustrated to find himself instantly frozen in place, arms straight at his sides, unable to do anything except watch as the man came close to him and produced a bowl and a small knife. He pulled one of the angel’s arms out to a 45 degree angel and made a shallow cut in the palm of his hand, collecting the golden ichor as it flowed out in a stream.

When the bowl was full and the blood had slowed to a trickle, he pressed a handkerchief against the angel’s palm until the bleeding appeared to stop.

“That’s all for now,” he said. “You’ve been most cooperative. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve verified this batch.”

And he backed out of the circle, releasing his control as he did.

The angel frowned, ignoring the sharp pain in his hand. What was the man going to do with his blood? What could this mean? He was certain of one thing and one thing only – it meant nothing good, for either him or the world.

Anathema showed up after the longest two hours in the world. She was alone, and had brought several volumes and a large carpet bag of materials. Crowley tolerated her hug, then ushered her in to the office area, where he’d surrounded himself with books. He was clearly in no mood for chit chat.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, sitting down on the couch.

Crowley brought her up to speed as quickly as possible.

“Summoning is a difficult act, even for witches, and requires quite a lot of power,” Anathema said. “The fact that Aziraphale didn’t immediately vanquish whoever it was and reappear probably means that whoever did this has some skill.”

Crowley already knew this. Likely not some college kids playing around with a séance. The thought had been tormenting him for the last two hours.

“Also, it’s quite dangerous, even if you’re skilled,” she said. “Do you know the Law of Equivalent Exchange?”

“No,” Crowley said. “What does it mean?”

“Summoning an entity invokes a law of exchange,” Anathema explained. “It’s the cardinal principle of the entire process. You can summon a demon or an angel or some other kind of being, but you can’t control the process completely. In order to get what you want from them, you have to give up something of equal value.”

“Right, right,” Crowley said impatiently. “I’ve been summoned by enough idiots over the centuries offering me their soul or their pathetic bag of gold for whatever they wanted me to –”

“Yes, but, that’s the whole problem,” Anathema interrupted, leaning forward excitedly with her dark eyes intent. “That’s what people THINK happens, but the way it actually works is that the summoner has no choice in what is taken in return. You can’t control the process; you can’t decide to offer your soul or your firstborn or your material possessions.”

“Then what?”

“It’s up to the being who’s been summoned! Or, if they fail to make the exchange, the cardinal principle itself will take care of it.”

Crowley felt a brief tingle of hope. “So, in this case, Aziraphale would actually have the power to take his revenge on the person who’s pulled him in?”

Anathema sighed and pulled her glasses off, rubbing her eyes. “Not exactly, no, not revenge. Just an equivalence. It depends what they want from him and how they’ve bound him.” She looked around for a drink and found a decanter on the table in front of her; Crowley nodded her assent as she poured herself a small glass of scotch. “Equivalent. If they take something from him, he can, if he’s aware, take something of equal value in return.”

“So if they do something bad to him, he can take something bad from them…”

Anathema nodded. “Yes. It’s inevitable. Maybe not right away, if he’s bound and controlled, but you can only delay it, not deny it completely.”

Crowley nodded grimly. “Good. That’s helpful. Enough about summoning, though, let’s talk about spells for locating things.”

“That’s what I assumed you were going to want,” Anathema said, with a tight smile. She looked, he thought, like a cross between a librarian and an assassin. It was a good look. “Let’s get down to work.”

#good omens fics #ineffable husbands #Aziraphale x crowley #anathema #anathema is going to be such a bad ass in the rest of this #dark #angst #suspense

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jack-katz · 5 years ago

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pilgrimage to the red sea // self

Everything was beautiful.

The swirling, colorful lights engulfed him.

He kissed someone at midnight and he didn’t know who it was, but he loved them in a way he’d never loved someone before.

He swam through the Aurora Borealis and walked among angels he didn’t believe in. They truly were awesome in the inspiring, religious way, not the slang way.

These barely clad bodies that seemed to float through the air weren’t symbols of hedonism. They were as pure as could be. Why were people so terrified of skin? It gave off the brightest shine. Everyone he saw emanated light that pulsated in the rhythm of the music, their heartbeats, his heartbeat.

The bass dropped once...then twice...then a third time.

The heartbeats were all uneven now.

The glowing aura of the bodies around him started to dim and disappear.

The colorful lights floating throughout the entire party started to seep through with nothing but red.

It took only moments until he was surrounded by nothing but streaks of red, swirling all around him until it found its way down his throat and he was choking on it.

Everyone was a shadow now. They screamed in his face as they passed, and it was so high-pitched every time that it caused all his bones to vibrate.

One scream tore through his shoulder and he could feel where the sound hollowed out a home for itself in his skin and bone.

The sea of blood that was washing over the party in waves was too much for him, and he managed to get his bare feet to hit the ground at a speed they hadn’t in years. Last time he ran this fast he was playing soccer with his cousins on a visit to Ireland. Something hit his foot - it must’ve been the ball, and he kicked it to nearest passer, whoever that was. The ball came back to him a moment later, cutting at his ankles and calves so deep he tripped.

The floor was wet where the waves had crashed. He got a mouthful of the Red Sea and spit it out.

The scream at rest in his shoulder released again, this time in a new way that, unbeknownst to him, was echoed from within the depths of his chest.

Nothing had ever come from that deep within him.

The soccer ball came back, but he missed it until it rolled across his back. It carved a path between his shoulders like it was connecting the dots from one pointy bone to another. His mother was right - he needed more meat on his bones.

A shadow passed and he reached for them for help. The shadow stepped on his hand, their broken stiletto nearly puncturing right through his palm. One shadow latched onto him and pulled him to his feet, but they vanished a moment later.

Jack blinked and looked around him. Through the red haze he could see that the angels had stripped themselves of their glowing skin to reveal the grotesque figures of demons beneath. He looked down at his hands, covered in a liquid of a color he didn’t recognize. Beneath that he was still human, but he could see where something talon-like was starting to poke through his fingernails. He spun and tried to scrape the tips of the talons on the nearest wall, but they didn’t disappear.

It was this party. He had to get away from this party. He just had to hop the fence, that was how he always got away from parties he didn’t want to be at anymore. He turned away from the wall and spotted a jagged, sparkling fence not too far away on the edges of the redness. There was a visible hole in the red sky where someone had clearly forged an escape.

On his way to the escape he was now claiming as his, Jack stepped on a shadow that couldn’t seem to get up off the ground. He gripped the sharp edges of the Hole of Escape as he lifted himself up. The edge of the hole dug into his stomach and he could feel where the redness surrounding him was pushing its way into his hands and torso. He was nearly there, though. He just needed to push himself a little further and he’d be out of there, back to safety.

The banshee in his shoulder was wailing relentlessly.

A shadow grabbed him from behind and he hit the ground.

The red encapsulated him again. It wound its way up his nostrils, though his ears, covered his eyes, and slid down his throat, through his veins, into his lungs.

Everything was fucking red with no sign of escape. Until everything went black.

#event:nye #th:self #self-para #para #pilgrimage to the red sea #don't do lsd before an ambush kids #:)

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thefragileblackdahlia · 5 years ago

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Metamorphosis: Final part

Chapter Summary: Sam and Dean find that a family man is turning into a flesh-eating monster, and they argue about killing him. Ariel makes a big decision that leaves her crippled and alone.

Pairing(s): Eventual Dean x Archangel!OFC

Warning(s): Fluff, Heavy Angst, Blood, Nudity, Self-loathing, Kissing, Typical Supernatural violence, Mild Language

A/N: Here is an episode with some Sam content for those that really like Sam. I never really liked the Ruby storyline, but anyways here you go. Its a bit wonky everything will be explained in flashbacks, I promise. Kinder surprise egg.

Beta’d by no one

Word count: 11,308

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

After Dean and Sam settled their dispute on the side of the road and Ariel, awkwardly third-wheeling it, they pulled up to Jack's home.

"Jack Montgomery?" A masculine voice came from behind Jack.

Jack stood in his backyard with the hose in his hand, watering the plants. With his back turned, Jack looked lively, but once the trio saw his face, they knew he was feeling out of it.

There were two men and a small woman standing between them. She also seemed pretty spaced out. The rougarou faced away from them after the little acknowledgment.

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean...and This is Ariel." Sam gestured between the three of them, and when he got to Ariel, he gave her a small pat on the head, which made her cringe.

This action didn't go overlooked by Dean, but he chose to ignore it because she wasn't anyone special, and he wasn't relationship material.

The angel just observed the two men with her hands resting at her sides. She already knew the end of this situation, but she still wanted the boys to choose for their own. Outcomes were already unraveling in her head, and she wasn't sure if she should even tell the boys about the plan. Her thoughts were interrupted by Sam's husky voice. She decided not to, it wasn't the right time.

"We need to talk." The tall hunter stated in a firm but compassionate voice.

Jack finally whirled around to face the hunter who was walking forward and leaving Ariel and Dean standing in the far background. He glanced over at two and then back to Sam. "About?"

Dean tuned out Jack and Sam's conversation and solely focused on Ariel, who was evading every kind of contact there was after their bathroom situation. Maybe he should distance himself also.

A loud 'ahem' pulled him back down to earth.

"You're probably feeling your bones move under your skin. And your appetite's reaching, you know, 'Hungry hungry hippo' levels. How am I doing so far?" Dean adjusted himself and stepped to his brother and the man. He had an unreadable expression, but the annoyance in his voice told them that he didn't want to leave Ariel's side.

Jack was taken aback by Dean's forwardness. How could these strangers know all this stuff happening to him, and what does it mean? "Who the hell are you guys?"

"We're people who know a little something about something." Dean replied blankly as he casually shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

Sam pursed his lips at his brother's vague answer. "We're people who can help. Please, Just hear us out?" He corrected.

Jack hesitated. "Okay..."

Ariel roamed the garden, the square heels of her boots digging into the wet grass as she inspected the hedge bushes. They were cut in a particular oblong shape with a pointed tip. Staring at the plants offered her no solace, her mind ran rampant with the many slurs Raphael used to break her.

Though she was tortured for only a day, it wasn't the pain that broke her spirit. It was the lack of free will and control over the several millenniums that made her break down. She never thought escape would even be possible with Raphael always looming and dragging his blade across her skin. The fear of dying had never been so prominent for her. She was lucky when another Angel disobeyed, and Raphael was distracted by Angel radio. When he turned his back, she drew a banishing symbol.

Having her grace sucked out of her, traumatized her in ways that some couldn't even imagine. They never did this to Lucifer; they just tossed him out of heaven and put him in a cage. It felt almost violating, regardless if it would replenish itself; It left a mental impression.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Instinctively, her eyes lit up. It was her only way of fending off whoever chose to sneak up on her. She promptly spun around and reached for the culprit's throat.

It was Dean.

"Woah, Woah. Okay!" The jaded hunter caught her hand and held it in his, tenderly. He subtly caressed her palm with his thumb and flashed her a wary smile. "C'mon, feathers. Time to go quickly." He wrapped his other hand around her wrist and pulled her toward the gate while frequently looking over his shoulder.

Sam hastily exited the garden and climbed into the running impala. "Feathers?" He laughed and put on his seat belt.

Ariel's voice cut over Sam's laughter. It was soft and enchanting. "It's not like I call you legs 'cause they're shaped funny? Don't call me feathers."

Sam started. "Legs actually sounds like an appropriate nickname-"

Dean immediately cut his brother off. "Alright, let's get some food and then stake out!" He clapped his hands together and turned up the music. "And they are not shaped funny." He added.

Sam just laughed over the music and carded his fingers through his chestnut hair.

. . .

The trio was seated at a table in Biggerson's. Ariel sat across from Dean, and Sam sat adjacent.

"So, That is coffee, and sometimes sugar helps make it less bitter." Sam reached for the can of sugar and slid it over to the angel.

Ariel grasped the sides of the mug and brought the cup to her lips. She never once tried any of the human inventions, she didn't need to, but to blend in, she had to. Her eyes widened as the bitter hot liquid touched the tip of her tongue. She coughed and quickly placed the china down and dumped a significant amount of sugar into the cup.

"Ariel-" Dean started with a chuckle as he watched her sweeten her coffee, but soon the sugar to coffee ratio would be too much, so he snatched the canister away and placed it on an empty table.

"What? It was gross." She cooed as she looked between Sam and Dean, who were just holding back their laughter. They shared similar expressions, one someone would make when looking at a toddler or small child. Is that how they saw her? She was billions upon billions of years older, how dare they.

Sam cleared his throat and leaned forward with his elbows perched on the table. "So, Ariel...Did you know?" The mood instantly plummeted by that question. Should she say all of heaven knew? That would only kill his spirit that every angel knew who Sam and Dean Winchester were.

"I did, I know a lot of things that happen or is going to happen. But different choices branch off, and that's when things get murky." Ariel replied shortly. She and Dean made eye contact once she revealed this information. She brought the mug to her lips, her gaze still on the older hunter.

"Wait, so you knew, but you didn't say anything to me?" Dean mumbled. His tone was accusatory as if Ariel was the offending one. "Why would you not tell me something like that? That comes before everything else."

" I am here to help lead you both to redemption. So, Don't you dare take that tone with me, because I saved your brother when I was the one who would be tasked with 'stopping' him." Ariel spit fired.

"Well, I had to find out from Constantine that my brother was ganking demons with a demon, which I actually thought was dead!" Dean countered. He narrowed his eyes at the offending angel, letting his anger take control of his mouth once again.

The enraged hunter leaned into the table and clenched his jaw. "And stop him? Not only did you forget to tell me he was hanging with Ruby and using his powers, but YOU; You were supposed to kill him?!" He tried to keep his voice down best he could, but the word kill grasped a waitress's attention.

"I'm sorry, did you miss the part where I risked my life for you and your stupid brother?! I fell for you, Dean, in so many ways you cannot even fathom, you incompetent human being." Ariel lamented. The sound of her voice breaking tore Sam out of deep thought.

"Well- No one asked you to, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to fall either. Y'know, I knew you were too good to be true. No one would just waltz into our lives, offering help just for the sake of doing good." Dean drawled with a stoic expression.

The lights in the restaurant began flickering, and her mug cracked down the middle.

Those words sent a pang through her vessel's heart.

"Ariel- you have to calm down!" Sam whisper shouted as he glanced around at everyone who just gawked at the ceiling in confusion.

Ariel fixed her doe-eyes on Sam, but his words did not compute. Tears began filling her eyes and falling in rivulets down her pink cheeks.

'Damnit,' Dean thought. 'She looked pretty when she cried.'

"Y'know, you are just like him. And when one of you end up dying, do not expect me to come running just because you prayed." She whispered before pushing herself up from the booth and making her way to the exit.

With each clack of Ariel's heels hitting the tiled floor, it sent a pang of regret through Dean's heart. When the door slammed close, Dean flinched.

Sam scoffed. "You're unbelievable. She risked her own life to help us, Dean." He scolded him. "What is wrong with you, Dean?" The tall hunter asked in a spiteful tone.

"Yeah, Well, No one asked her to." Dean ignored Sam's questions. Shortly after he had processed what he said, he regretted everything. He wanted to go after her, pull her into a hug, and possibly stay like that for a while. "It's getting late. I'm gonna hit the can, and then we can go."

"Whatever." Sam just scoffed at his asshole of a brother and got up from the table and left the restaurant.

This reaction prompted Dean to just hurry to the bathroom. Once inside, he checked to see if anyone might be using it, then he locked the door when he found no one. He hunkered over the ceramic sink. The troubled hunter let out a breath.

Dean just wanted control, but he lost that long ago when he was just a boy. He struggled to maintain his composure as he recollected how he treated Ariel when all she wanted to do was help him. He was just so angry, and he had no idea how to control it. And the longer he stood in front of the mirror, the more he wanted to thrust his head straight through the glass.

She not only told him hours before that someone she cared about did the same but that he reminded her of him. He could barely hold it together. Was it a good thing that he reminded her of that guy or a bad thing? And why him? What's so great about him?

A portion of him wanted to pray to the archangel, but the stubborn side took ahold of the wheel and told him not to and that what he said to her was reasonable. He tore himself away from his reflection and shuffled over to the door to unlock it.

. . .

Later that night, Dean and Sam tracked down Jack back to his house and found what was left of Travis. Jack attacked them, effectively knocking out both of them. Ariel nowhere to be seen.

Sam awoke from his comatose state with a faint gasp. It took him a moment to grasp his surroundings and remember where he was. He panicked once he realized his brother was nowhere to be found. He pushed himself to his feet and tried the door handle, but it was locked. "Dean?"

"Dean can't come to the phone right now." Jack muttered as he swayed back and forth.

That response enraged Sam. He just got his brother back, and he couldn't lose him now, not when there's so much more left to fight. Samuel slammed his hand against the door. "Jack! If you hurt him, I swear to God!" He bellowed as he banged his hand against the wood again.

Jack sniffled and swayed harder. "Calm down!" He looked over at Dean, who was knocked out and sprawled over the coffee table with a wound on to his head. "Your brother's alive." He added.

The rougarou's head whipped around at the closet door, "But not if you don't calm down!" He asserted.

This note made Sam relax, as long as Dean was alive- there was a chance he could wake up. Sam shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the door, his breathing labored.

Sam pressed his hand against the door and let out a low exhaled. "Alright, Jack. Listen. Open the door. We can figure this out, okay?" He tried to reason.

Jack let out a hysterical laugh. "We'll have ourselves a little brainstorming session."

"Jack, please." Sam begged.

"I don't think so, after what you did." Jack uttered.

"What? What are you talking about?" Sam figured it would be a while until he was let out of the closet, so he began searching his pockets for anything to pick the lock.

"You send your friend here. He tried to burn my wife alive!" Jack's voice began breaking as his body slowly morphed.

Sam halted his search at that accusation. "What? Why?" He looked around the closet for anything pointy and found a metal hanger, grabbing it.

There was a long pause.

Jack tilted his head to the side. "He didn't say." He glanced over at Dean, who was still unconscious. "I guess psychopaths don't have to explain themselves." Jack sneered and crawled toward his limp body. All of a sudden, Dean's blood looked delightful.

Samuel kept his head to the door as he spoke."Listen to me. You gotta believe me. My brother and I, we never would have hurt her, okay?" He quickly unraveled the metal hanger and reformed it so he could pick the lock.

Jack stopped by Dean's face, and with a wavering hand, he dipped his fingers in the little pool of blood that formed by Dean's head. He tried fighting it, but there was no use. The monster raised his blood-soaked digits to his lips and licked his fingers dry. "Oh, God. I'm so hungry." He began rocking back and forth, contemplating.

"Jack, don't do this." The hunter knelt and attempted to pick the lock.

"I can't ever see my family again." Jack paused. "You two...your friend--you made me into this!" He roared.

"No one's making you kill us." Sam began working the lock, struggling to get the door open. He feels overall defeated and lowers his hand. He needed to stall. "Listen to me." The trapped hunter began to sympathize with closed eyes. "You got this dark pit inside. I know. Believe me, I know." Sam opened his eyes and began picking the lock again. "But that doesn't mean you have to fall into it. You don't have to be a monster."

Sam only heard a mocking laugh come from Jack before he began talking. "Have you seen me lately?"

The hazel-eyed hunter let out a low sigh as he gave it one last try. "It doesn't matter what you are." He took a long pause. "It only matters what you do. It's your choice." Sam felt like he would never get out in time, so he desperately prayed to Ariel. "Ariel, I don't know where you are or if you are even listening, but we need you..."

Jack stilled for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The pain of restraining himself began to wear him down. He groaned and opened his mouth wide and inched toward Dean. He restrained himself best he could, but now he was ravenous. Dean began stirring awake, moving only slightly. The rougarou's mouth only inches away from Dean's neck before a high pitched ringing overcame the silence, followed by the closet door slamming open behind Jack.

"Bad Jackie." Ariel quipped with her shoulders, rolled back as a blinding light filled the room, and her wings projected on the wall.

Sam came bursting in with the makeshift flamethrower at the ready, but his eyes landed on the Archangel. She came.

Jack stumbled back from Dean as he witnessed the angel asserting her dominance and vigor. She was intimidating, but that didn't dissuade Jack from getting up to fight. The monster pushed himself to his feet and lunged for the woman.

Ariel took a hefty step forward and connecting her right knee to the monster's jaw, sending him collapsing to the floor with a broken jaw. She beamed.

The loud commotion awoke Dean completely. He rolled off the table, his mouth and eyes wide with panic and confusion. Why would she come to save them after what he said? He wanted to question it so badly, but he just accepted it. Dean never looked away from her outstretched wings; they were so beautiful.

Sam watched with wide eyes and labored breathing. It was very intense for him, witnessing Ariel fight for the. Jack was no competition for her, even on a bad day, and it made Sam feel secure and safe.

"Godspeed." Ariel cooed. Her eyes lit up with grace, causing Jack's eyes and mouth filled with a white-hot light, and then soon, his whole body caught fire.

Dean looked to Ariel and then Sam, who sported a disappointed look as he watched the monster crumple to the ground. He swallowed hard. "Ariel, you came." Sam breathed.

"Well, you prayed." Ariel cooed softly and put out a hand for Dean to grab.

"Thanks ..." Sam smiled wanly.

"Let's go, Legs." She added with a smile.

The surly hunter glanced over at Sam, who just had a tired smile. "Why did you pray?" Dean gruffed and stood by himself. He ignored her.

Sam sighed. "You were about to be eaten, Dean."

"Dean," Ariel started with a step toward the stubborn hunter. "Don't pretend to hate me cause I made an honest mistake. I didn't want to scare you."

Dean curled and uncurled his fingers as he listened to her words. "No, something like that isn't a mistake. Lying isn't a mistake, you made that choice."

The redhead took a wary step back. "Can you for once get your head out of your ass, It is not a hat!" She uttered.

"Fuck you." Dean shouted and stepped to the offending angel. His chest fluctuated as he glared down at Ariel, who returned his gaze.

"Fuck me? Fuck you! It's not my fault you can't handle the truth!" Ariel argued.

"The truth?! You have no right to talk about truths! All you did was lie to me." Dean huffed, taking another step closer.

They were now three feet apart.

"Lie to you?! Dean Winchester, you are the God of lying! Your whole life, you conned and stole. I decided to not tell you that Sam is hanging with a demon and that my job as an archangel would be to kill Samuel if he went dark side for your benefit!" Ariel stomped her foot down to put emphasis on the word benefit. She continued, "You just came back from Hell, you discovered Angels were real, you went back in time and witnessed so much death. Why in the world would I want to add to that?"

"I never asked for any of this! I have been taking care of me and Sammy my whole life, you do not get to waltz in here with your pretty red wings and decide what's good for us. I don't care how old you are." The angered hunter closed the three-foot gap between them and gestured to himself and the door where Sam should have been standing.

The only word that Ariel picked up was Red. "Red?" She questioned with a shaky breath. "You can see my wings?" Her eyes were wide.

Dean remained silent once he realized he let slip that he can see her wings. He wanted to apologize, but something prevented him from articulating. The way she asked him and how her eyelashes fluttered every time she looked away made his blood pump faster. It took him a moment for him to realize that she had expected an answer. Was he supposed to talk now? Fuck.

"I'm sorry..." Ariel whispered in an oppressive tone. She fixed her gaze on the broken man in front of her.

The righteous man withdrew sharp breaths threw his teeth. He parted his lips in an attempt to apologize, but only nonsense came out. "I- You know-"

The woman tentatively raised her fingers to his cheek. "You're sorry?" She palpitated as she crept closer to his front.

Dean felt inclined to lean into her touch, shutting his eyes, and gave her a slight nod. It was the first time she actively tried to touch him since he dreamt, and the sensation was intoxicating.

"I'm sorry. I just get so angry...I don't know why." He choked out, licking his lips to prevent them from drying. His eyes wandered down her face to her fleshy pink lips. It was tempting, and there would be nothing to drag them apart now. Dean raised both shaky hands to her head and clutched both sides of her face.

Ariel's sapphire orbs bounced between Dean's eyes and lips. "I didn't mean to call you an asshat or lie to you. I should have told you-" She whispered in a quivery tone.

"You talk too much." Dean growled as he hastily yanked Ariel into a deep, heartfelt kiss. He nearly knocked her over with the amount of force he exerted.

The buzzing started again.

Once their mouths united, a surge of exaltation billowed through Ariel's body. The man squeezed her face, afraid she might disappear at any given moment.

Dean furrowed his brows as his teeth nibbled at her bottom lip. His tongue danced wildly behind his teeth; he could not wait any longer. The jaded man attacked her neck, pressing wet sloppy kisses against her feverish skin.

The pushing and pulling overwhelmed the vessel, the coil wounding up and tightening as heat pooled between Ariel's legs. She tossed her arms over Dean's shoulders and raked her nails across his nape. She wanted the buzzing to stop. They needed to be one.

They almost forgot there was a burning man on the floor until Sam rushed into the house and cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt. But we gotta go." Sam affirmed.

The two tore apart almost immediately. Ariel worked her fingers through her tangled hair and looked to Sam with lust blown eyes and swollen lips. She cleared her throat and fixed her jacket collar.

"Right." Dean huffed and speedily left for the exit.

. . .

Baby pulled off into the sunrise.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

#dean winchester #sam and dean #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #Dean x OFC #Sam Winchester #spn fanfiction #spnfamliy #SPN #spn s4 #castiel #spn fluff #spn angst #spn angels

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darkspellmaster · 6 years ago

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The Dragon Prince Theory: Could Aaravos be Callum's Ancestor or Father?

I was thinking of how much Aaravos and Elarion, remind me of Mythal and Fen'Harel or Solas from Dragon Age and the myth around them, and how much Callum looks like Aaravos in the face area, jaw line and such, making me think the two are related.

So let me lay out some facts before I start to explain my reasons.

Things that we know about the world of Dragon Prince:

Elves can use one form of magic (moon elves use moon magic, etc.)

Creatures have a primal connection to one form of magic (bait is fire, etc.)

Humans can only use, as far as we know, dark magic

Dark magic needs to exchange a life to extract the magic

Aaravos is the only elf that is shown to know/use all of the known magics

Callum was able to tap into the wind

Callum’s father is said to be dead

Sarai seemed to have a stronger understanding of the magic world in general

Callum rejected Dark magic

Callum is said to be the key to unlocking Aaravos’s box

Humans can use elemental magic but only with a primal stone

Humans can be attracted to Elves (Soren’s comment on Rayla.)

So why did I point those out, because I think there are some key factors in the story of Aaravos and Elarion, that leads into Sarai and Harrow’s story along with what’s going in regards to Rayla and Callum.

Let me though start with Aaravos and Elarion’s poems and explain about Mythal and the Dread Wolf.

I am not going into the long history of this as it’s way to long and complicated, so to all DA fans sorry if I miss things, I’m trying to simplify. So in the games of Dragon Age we learn of the lore of what we could call the High elves. These High elves are very fae like, aka, as with folklore they promise to help you only to screw you over in the end. In the world of DA these High elves were owning the rest of the elf races and other races in the world. In their greed and lust for power they pretty much caused the birth of Demons and other things.

Now among these High Elves were two High Elves that didn’t agree. Mythal and Fen’Harel (or Solas in DA3) -although we don’t know his actual name as of yet. Mythal, as per the lore we know now, was trying to do something to stop the High Elves from harming others and ended up being murdered and later her spirit wound up in the body of a woman named Flemeth.

Fen’harel seeing his love killed, wound up locking away the High elves, and pretty much caused a very large problem in the world of DA regarding magic for a long time and moving forward after avenging his lover’s death is trying to stop the High Elves in his own way which could kill everyone.

Now I bring this up because their love story reminds me a lot of the poem that was referenced in The Dragon Prince when Viren was looking for info on Aaravos.

(Link to the first poem here done by Moonshadow Meme’s)

So in Moonshadow’s translation we have various versus, which I’m going to label as V and a number next to it, and it goes from the top to the bottom of their post.

V1. They turned their backs and left Elarion to die.

Now you can read this in various ways, but it’s clear that some group turned their backs on this woman and left her to her death. However, if I take into account the various myths out there plus the DA story of Mythal, you can surmise that the young woman here is a Christ like figure. Typically this means that you have people that are shunning her for her gifts. As with Mythal, when she was killed the other High Elves did nothing to stop it from happening as per what’s in the game lore.

V2. Elarion, her vessel fighting death, withered and suffered in darkness...

The first thing that strikes me is the word vessel. Now what we’re looking at here is the biblical used of the term vessel and not the ship.

“ (chiefly in or alluding to biblical use) a person, especially regarded as holding or embodying a particular quality.”

So what does this allude to here? Well again the idea of her being an important figure at some point is clear, and she embodies qualities that make her “The special” in this case. The implication here is that either she was attacked or poisoned and is now dying, as withered itself shows that she’s becoming ill from possibly something. It could be the dark magic, as we see what that does to a person, or some other illness or poison that’s consuming her body. Whatever it is it’s painful and she’s on her own or blinded, or in the literal dark.

until the last star shone from afar...

You could allude to the idea of the last star being just that, a bright light from the early dawn that fades when the light of the sun comes up.

Or, more likely the allusion here is to the idea of Aaravos being the last of the Star Elves. We know that they are rare, as per the comments from the official tumblr and twitter that Aaravos is a rare elf, telling me that there isn’t that many left. In this case the implication is that he’s the last one, and the shone from afar means that he wasn’t physically there. Or at least he wasn’t there at first...

Now it could be that Aaravos was in the mirror all this time and had passed the cube to Elarion, like how he sent the worm to Viren. But, if that was the case then why would the humans have said mirror? Seems a bit odd to me. So for now let’s put the “Aaravos has been in the mirror for a very very very long time” to the side as we don’t know how long he’s been locked up.

But the afar idea give me the feeling that he came to her from a distance and she saw him through her minds eye, rather than in person at first.

In all likelihood Aaravos found her in the woods or someplace in Xadia, and heard her and came to her to see what was going on, and he was physically near her.

she touched it: fire, a gift, a spark

Now again, we have to assume here that the it is Aaravos and not the mirror as, again, we saw that Aaravos could only send things through the mirror and not physically come through it yet. On top of this, Viren touched the mirror a few times, and didn’t learn the magic through the mirror itself. Though it’s clear that Aaravos knows how to teach through it.

Assuming then that it was Aaravos she touched, then the words have some different meanings.

Fire could mean the actual teaching of fire like how he put out the flame. It could however indicated attraction, as fire is known as a symbol of passion. It could also be shown that he showed her about fire in some way.

A gift, clearly the gift of magic given by Aaravos to her, to teach her.

A spark, again two meanings here. First one could be lighting, thus an electrical thing going on in magic or how to pull the spark from a living being to use the magic, but there’s an issue there as Aaravos never used a living being to do the magic, only his own blood making me think Dark Magic is a kin to blood magic in DA, where you could kill yourself using it if you are not careful with it. However spark could also mean love, or the spark of love. Indicating that there were feelings there.

V 3. Elarion, with her bright white, embraced the night’s great dark flame...

Again so much going on here that could mean a few things. Bright white could be indicate a blank slate of a person that could be taught, as in there’s nothing there that can’t be molded. Bright white could be connected to innocent purity, like something angelic, or it could also indicate the potential for light magic if there is such a thing.

Embrace could be her willingly accepting Aaravos’s teachings, or/and, it could mean a hug as a sign of affection, or in some cases it could be alluding to a more intimate sort of affection being shown. Whatever the case may be Elarion clearly took on Aaravos as a mentor figure, and possible more, given the next line.

and when she (it?) bowed, offered surrender, the name “Aaravos” was whispered...

Clearly this, again, can be read in various ways. For sure she’s becoming his student and learning from him. She’s offering herself to his services, though in the scene with Viren, it’s the reverse that’s going on. Also, again, surrender could take on double meaning as it could imply a more intimate sort of surrender here, as in a physical as well as a spiritual one.

The poem then goes on to talk about the fact that Elarion spread her roots, as in she was out there teaching people what she was taught and Aaravos was her midnight star. That line there seems way more intimate than just something you would call a mentor or teacher in this case.

The last full verse indicates that it’s probably winter, but the implication there too with the idea of her pulling her roots close, or her servant’s close, against the night’s murderous chill could be two things.

One it could be indicating an attack by Moon Shadow elves, or two Aaravos was betrayed by her and he was going to get revenge on it.

The last lines in the poem are interesting though without connections. Flower blossomed in allusions could be her growing from a weaker person to a stronger one. Or it could indicate a more womanly person, we see her going from her being weak in the dark to her fears and the dark being scared of her. The issue becomes what are the last lines? It could be that she was looking for Aaravos, or that others were seeking him out? The last line makes me think that there’s a connection to him and the dragons.

Now, to me the poem may hint at Elarion and Aaravos having some sort of intimate relationship on top of just being teacher and student. As with Fen’Harel and Mythal, the idea I’m looking at is that Elarion was able to learn magic from Aaravos, and became a stronger person who taught others how to use the dark magic to better their lives. With Elarion mirroring some of Mythal’s story, you may have some one that is being blacklisted by the Elves, but praised by the humans for using the magic that doesn’t seem normal and which takes life in order to use it.

We know whoever wrote the other comment on Aaravos, it’s clear this is someone who likes him.

(Translation from salemsrealm ) *Note: the red lines were done by Salemsrealm

The way it’s written is very much like how in the bible you have Letter’s to different groups discussing their religion, like “A letter from paul to the Corinthians” that’s the feel I get regarding the passage that has Aaravos listed as a friend to all. It also goes on to add notes about how others are going to see them (humans I’m assuming) as equals and that he sees potential in us.

Which leads to the Option one aspect of this theory that Callum, possibly through his father’s, or maybe Sarai’s family line is related to Aaravos. We know that, though Harrow’s letter, the cube was passed down through generations, though we’re not given a clue who had it last. I have to assume it was either via Sarai getting it from her husband or getting it through her own parents.

And then there’s Option two, which is that Avaravos is Callum’s dad.

So let’s start with Option one here since I know a lot of people will be wondering how the hell option two works.

Now what do we know about Callum’s father. Well nothing, honestly. What little we do have comes from King Harrow in his letter:

“ Because I’m your stepfather, I was trying to give you the space I thought you needed to love your real father, even though he passed away.”

We know that according to Harrow Callum’s birth father is dead. But outside of this, we have nothing about him.

We do know though that, again, through the letter about Aaravos’s box.

“This cube is an ancient relic that has been passed down through the ages. It belonged to an elven wizard in Xadia, the Archmage Aaravos, a master of all six primal sources. It is hidden in a box of keys because it is known as the"Key of Aaravos" and legends say it unlocks something of great power in Xadia. Perhaps it will be you, Callum, who discovers the key’s secrets.”

So what can we say about this bit of information that is important.

Well for one thing we know that it belonged to Aaravos and was passed down through the ages. So...how did Harrow get it? We know that Viren doesn’t know about the damn thing, he’d have gotten to it already if he did. And it’s clear that he didn’t know who Aaravos was, meaning that the name is not well known.

However there are books and the poem to go by. Question is, who gave Harrow that box? How long has he had it? If it was something in his family he would have told Callum that it was passed down to him, right? So let’s assume for the moment this object didn’t belong to Harrow, well then who had it first? Given it’s an elven item and going into Xadia is not easy, that means that it had to have come from someone connected to Xadia.

If we assume that Sarai is like Ez, then we can guess she has some skill with talking to creatures. So it’s not too far off to assume that she may have gotten the Cube and given it to Harrow as a gift.

Now the question is, how did she get it? Well option one is that she took it, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort to do that. So option two it was a gift. We know that the elves are not really very into humans all that much, but there could have been a friendship that was struck up between Sarai and an elf that lead to her gaining the box. But...

Option 3 is more likely, where in Sarai may have met an Elf that became her husband, or lover, and they produced Callum. Now given that Callum managed to connect to the Storm/sky, I wouldn’t be too surprised if we had a case of his dad being a Sky/Storm Elf.

Note the green in the skin tone, could be connected to the eye color Callum has.

So let’s assume for a second that could explain Callum’s connection to the storm. But, given how this story is going there’s a chance that Sarai may have some abilities in her, passed on through her family, which could make her a descendant of Aaravos and Elarion. Given that human’s are a more common aspect, this could be a case of said sky elf, or even if his dad is human, than he could be the descendant of Aaravos through various means as we don’t know yet how the family line works for elves and if they can intermix.

If this is the case that Sarai or Callum’s dad has the blood of Aaravos in them, then it’s likely they could have passed it onto Callum and caused him to gain the magic to unlock that box. The likely scenario would be that Elarion had a child with him and that the child, or children, went on down the line until we hit Sarai or Callum’s dad. Either case we have a person who would be considered a halfling or some percentage star elf allowing for magic to be part of the blood line.

Which could explain why Callum insisted that he could feel that he could do magic. This I think is important as no one else ever says this, not even our two dark magic users. Callum knows it’s something that he can do, he must do, and thus the letter from Harrow makes him feel more sure that he can connect to that part of him. Leading to Harrow’s comment in his dream state where he was able to break from the hold the dark magic had on him.

This could be the most likely case in regard to the story since Aaravos is a rare elf, given the details we have so far. However there is option 2.

Now Option 2 is a bit...odd. Not because it’s something that seems illogical, it’s just a question of how and when, and possibly why.

So let’s start with the first issue of this theory, which would be “Wasn’t Aaravos locked up for a long time?”

Answer: We don’t know. We know that Ruaan said that it’s something worse than death. But how does he know this? You could argue, Legends, but then wouldn’t that have come out at some point? Either through Rayla or the Moon elf? Fact is we don’t know, and the thing that is making this a bit fuzzy is that Rayla’s parents were where Viren found the mirror. If this was something that was that old, why need elves to protect it if it’s with the dragons? You would think they would trust them to not have it taken.

So assuming that Aaravos wasn’t locked up for a long time...then where was he?

Well, probably hiding out, away from the eye of the elves for his crime, or at least what they perceived to be a crime, giving magic to the humans. And the most likely place is the place that Lujanne mentioned, the weird world between life and death.

If, as I’m guessing and hopefully correct, the mirror acts as a portal and was locked due to the magic writing on the frame, then Aaravos could have used the mirror or mirrors like it to go through this place, since he knows and can use Moonshadow Elf magic. This would mean the mirrors are like the Eluvians from Dragon Age, acting as a means of travel through the fade and the veil where all the magic in the world there is kept.

So how does this lead to the idea of Callum being Aaravos’s son?

Well let’s start with the facts. We know that, according to the poem, Aaravos gave magic to the humans, and he sees them as interesting and having potential. To me this reads again, like Solas, seeing great things coming out of them. Meaning that Aaravos has no issue with being around and hanging out with humans.

We also know that the box in question belonged to him, but not that he made it.

It belonged to an elven wizard in Xadia, the Archmage Aaravos, a master of all six primal sources. It is hidden in a box of keys because it is known as the"Key of Aaravos" and legends say it unlocks something of great power in Xadia.

So what’s important here to note is that it belong to Aaravos, not that he made it, making me think that this wasn’t just a case of him crafting this but it being passed on to him through his clan of mages. This means that he was a holder of it.

Now we know that Aaravos can use all the sources, we’ve seen it in action:

And yet he’s the only one that can do it. According to Rayla the magic that the elves use is an internal thing, and the implication is that the elves can’t learn other forms of magic. A sun elf can’t learn water magic, and a moon elf won’t be able to learn say storm magic.

As seen in season one, there is no hand motion, and Rayla goes shadow. But like Callum Aaravos needs to use the magic in the same way Callum does. He has to write the symbol.

Yet Aaravos, because he’s a star touched elf, this probably means that he has a connection to the world in a different way because every thing on earth has some connection to a cosmic energy due to the fact that, you know, we’re kind of made of star dust.

If you notice the other person that seems to have that connection is Callum.

After he wakes up and talk to Rayla he mentions that he feels more connected to the world and is able to latch onto things.

During his time in his mind there’s a moment when his mother helps him out of his panic attack and when he’s using the other magic...what does he do, draws it out like Aaravos. We know he knows how to do this due to the Primal stone, but, it’s interesting that he recovers so fast, and seems to understand it better now.

Another factor to consider is the fact that Callum and Aaravos have similar looks:

The reason I bring this up is because while faces on the show do have similarities, both Ez and Callum show looks like their parents.

And if you look at Aaravos and Callum, with Sarai’s softer side, well you can see the similarities there.

So then the question becomes how, how could Callum look human and still be part star elf, wouldn’t that stand out?

Well, again we look to Dragon Age. One of the lead characters of the first story Alistair , is actually half elf on his mother’s side. However because of the more dominate traits from his human father, Alistair looks human.

We don’t know how it works in the world of The dragon prince but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s similar in nature to how DA does it where the human aspect is physically stronger and takes away the ears and the horns. After all Soren even comments on how good looking Rayla is, meaning that a human could fall for an elf and vice versa.

So how would Aaravos and Sarai meet and create Callum?

Well the most likely situation was that Aaravos probably was hiding away from the elves, or they didn’t know that he had been the cause of the dark magic being created. It’s not that hard to buy into the fact that he was more of a person that like solitude.

We see in his room that he studies a lot of books, and clearly he seems pretty calm and collected for someone locked away. So it’s not too hard to suppose that after events with the humans being pushed out of Xadia, he may have followed in a way over time and watched how things played out.

As for Sarai, well, to me it seems pretty clear that she has the same skill that Ezran has, to talk with animals, and this could flow into talking to magical creatures as well. Given the fact that no one believes Ezran when he says he can talk to the animals, it could be that Sarai had the same issue, leading her to probably go off on her own as a young woman to deal with that.

And let’s be honest, after seeing her personality and looks, it’s not hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t find her attractive.

On the side of Aaravos, given how many are already liking how he looks, attraction wouldn’t be that huge a jump for Sarai in this case. On top of that he may not have been walking around as an elf. We know that the Moonshadow mages can cast illusions, as per Lujanne in season 1 and 2, so turning that magic on himself and creating a persona would be a easy trick for Aaravos.

We also know now that Ezran takes after his mom in the trust department, and that she doesn’t seem to be against magical beings. So it’s not a leap in logic to assume that she wouldn’t be against the idea of being in love with someone who was an elf and different from her.

It would not be a hard sell either to have it were Aaravos showed Sarai about the other creatures in Xadia, and helped her to hone her ability. if the poem is true too, Aaravos wouldn’t be against Amaya for her being unable to hear, though I don’t think he would have shown her his true form, but would have probably shown Sarai. Aaravos probably also would have seen a skilled warrior in her, something that could have complimented his magic. (Heck you could argue that their dynamic mirrors that of Rayla and Callum, a female fighter and a male mage.)

The two easily could have met in the woods, with Aaravos in his illusion, and the two hitting it off. Leading eventually to some sort of confession of love, leading to something akin to a marriage, and possibly Aaravos confessing about what he is at some point in time. This could have easily lead to the two creating Callum and him being born with the hidden power to use the other primal sources like his father. Keep in mind that there’s no rules that say he couldn’t have loved to women at different times.

However I have a feeling that if Aaravos was in hiding, his cover may have been blown and he would have had to flee. We know due to Runaan that the mirror is seen as worse than death, and we know that Rayla’s parents were more than likely guarding it. Moonshadow elves are the assassins of the clans, and we see how they do things, which leads me to think that they couldn’t outright kill him and were probably sent by the other elves to take him out for teaching the dark magic to the humans.

Which brings me to the second point of Sarai. Given her actions in season 2 I have to think she wouldn’t just let him be killed or taken before her. So more than likely Aaravos could have given her the cube, and explained to her what it was, which she later gave as a gift to Harrow to keep safe for Callum for when he was older. And she in turn explained to him the story behind it as explained by Aaravos to her. No doubt to keep her safe it’s not to large of a leap to think that he used that magic of his to make it hard for her to find him, and probably she thought he had died due to blood or other things she could have found in an event of a struggle with the Moonshadow elves.

This leaves the next big question. If he is Callum’s father, now what? Is he evil or no?

To me Aaravos seems to be the type where what he’s doing is bad, but he doesn’t think he’s being bad. Again, if the poems are telling truth, then there’s a chance that he actually saw good in humans, and this may be a case of him, over time, wanting to get back at the world for screwing things up for him.

As with Solas from DA, there’s this idea that he’s a bit of a trickster type who is seeking revenge for what happened not just to him but those he cared for, and becoming more and more willing to find a way out. Clearly he was doing something when he walked out of that room, and we know he’s manipulating Viren. It seems to me he sees him as a way out, and this could lead to some interesting moments with Ezran and possibly Callum.

Let’s say he finds out that Sarai is dead, if he still has feelings for her, will he blame Xadia more for it’s actions? Would he see in Ezran what he saw in Sarai, and want to help him grow his gift? Or would he be jealous of the boy who’s father was with the woman he loved and who’s actions lead to her death?

Also if you look at Callum in this case, not only would he probably want to see his son again, but it’s highly likely that he would want to train him too. Yet as we saw Callum could be the one able to unlock that box, and for someone that is probably very good at playing others with a silver tongue, it wouldn’t be a huge leap to think he could get Callum to help him get whatever it is that the box connects to in Xadia. This could lead to some very dramatic aspects, especially if Aaravos uses the weakness of Claudia, or Rayla or even Callum to exploit things and get his way.

Could he love his son and want him to join him? To train him? Would Callum be willing to work with him? Or would he reject him and connect back to Harrow as his father and want to be like he was? How would this affect Aaravos, and would that lead to some darker things coming.

Having Aaravos be Callum’s father not only would be a huge dynamic for the magic and growth of Callum, but for the over all story as well, because it would make him have to confront who he was and connect directly to the idea of what Harrow said in his letter to him...

“ I ask you and your brother to reject history as a narrative of strength and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love.

I’ve tried to be selfless as a king, but as a father, I have a selfish wish. And that is for you and Ezran to be…free. Reject the chains of history. Do not let the past define your future, as I did. Free yourself from the past. Learn from it, understand it, then let it go. Create a brighter future from your own hearts and imagination.”

Having both these men effect Callum’s choices could lead to some really great story telling and push the idea of creating that brighter future. It would explain all of Callum’s desires to be a mage, because it’s something he’s born with, and would also be a huge connection to the box and make sense for why he can be the one that can unlock it. Having Aaravos being his father would be, honestly, fun.

*Well if you made it all the way to the end, congratulations, and I hope this all makes sense as a theory to you dear reader.

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