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crystalgirl259 · 3 years

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Guilty Pleasures Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Noah’s Ark

It would be over three thousand years before Zane met the strange demon known as Kai again. In those years the human race had grown at a rapid rate and had taken over pretty much the entire planet. Zane couldn't help but wonder if the human's sudden growth was always part of the plan or if the weapons he and Kai had gifted Adam and Eve had had a hand with it and aided in their expansion. Zane shuddered as he thought about the weapons from Heaven and Hell.

After he had sealed the Garden of Eden, the Almighty had only asked him once where the shurikens were and thankfully he managed to convince them that they were in the garden somewhere.

He had tried to find the two weapons in later years but it seemed that they had been lost to time. The angel was standing among a large crowd, watching as Noah finished building his ark. Noah's family had begun to lead the pairs of animals on board. While most of the crowd laughed and jeered at the man, Zane was just barely managing to keep the bile down, knowing what was coming. He wanted so desperately to warn the people, to tell them Noah was telling the truth and that they needed to find boats.

But at the same time, he knew that they wouldn't listen and that it was too late anyway.

Before they finished even a small boat the flood would come and wash them all away. As the angel wrestled with his thoughts, he suddenly felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to see Kai standing beside him with a big grin on his face. The demon hadn't changed at all since Zane had last seen him. The only different thing was the brunette's missing wings that had been hidden, much like Zane's own wings.

"Hello, Zane." Kai greeted warmly and Zane wondered what had drawn the demon here.

"Kai," Zane replied awkwardly. He still didn't know how to properly interact with a demon, even if this one didn't come off as a threat right away.

"So, giving the mortals a flaming sword and icy shurikens, how do you think that worked out for us?" Kai asked with what Zane could swear was a mischievous purr.

"The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again." He replied, trying to keep his attention on the boat.

"Probably a good thing." He shrugged as he looked around at the crowd and back at the boat. "So what's all this about? Build a big boat and fill it with a traveling zoo?" He asked and Zane had took swallow the lump in his throat as he thought of a response.

"From what I hear, God's a bit tetchy and is wiping out the human race... with a big storm." He stammered, catching the demon off-guard.

"All of them?"

"Just the locals." Zane tried to smile, but it was so strained even Kai could see through it. "I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese, or the Native Americans, or the Australians."

"Yet."

"And God's not going to wipe out all the locals; I mean, Noah, up there, his family, and his sons, their wives, they're all going to be fine." He tried to reassure, but it had little to no effect on the brunette.

"But they're drowning everybody else?" He scoffed as he looked around at the crowd who were ignorant to their impending doom. His eyes widened when he saw a small group of kids running and playing in the crowd. "You can't kill children." He gasped in horror when Zane reluctantly nodded, snake eyes wide open. Not even a demon would kill a child. Why kill something when they wouldn't go to hell, anyway? Something that couldn't defend itself.

It wasn't logical.

It wasn't fair either, he thought. But only very quietly to himself. Zane had looked so helpless, but he hadn't agreed with the demon. At least he hadn't said it out loud. Although something had been in the angels' beautiful eyes. Kai liked to imagine that it was doubt. Still, he knew that having exactly that could be extremely dangerous. One doesn't simply doubt the great plan. Kai wanted to save the children. He did. The reason why he wanted to do that was far apart from any comprehension.

It couldn't be that wrong or right or whatever.

Only that way the children could grow old and be bad and ultimately go to hell, and that should be hells' only concern, anyway. He observed the Ark from every side. It was huge. Much bigger than a house, and much bigger than a dune, and much bigger than any animal climbing aboard. There should be more than enough space for everything and more. Also, the other unicorn was still missing. Kai wasn't too concerned, they still had the other one.

An idea started to form, as he observed the Ark.

There were a lot of animals and no one was paying as much attention to them as they should. A unicorn had already gotten away, anyway. Maybe, just maybe, this could also work the other way around. There should be enough space...

****************

Zane felt bad. He felt as bad as he never did before. He felt even too bad to listen to his conscience, which tried to tell him something. It couldn't be that important, though. The fresh air didn't make it better. The angel was the first one to discover seasickness. On the third evening, Zane sat outside between a flamingo and a gazelle and tried to keep the contents of his dinner where they belonged.

"Snowflake, are you ok?" Kai asked, suddenly standing between him and the flamingo. The flamingo watched him suspiciously with his head tilted.

"Oh, I'm fine," Zane answered bravely.

"Are you sure? The light makes you look a bit greenish." He said and the angel tried not to stare at the demon's long and probably soft hair in the wind and falling into his eyes.

"Maybe a bit tired." He said, clinging onto the railing.

"Tired?"

"Tired." He repeated. Kai had never seen an angel getting sick before. Maybe it was Gods' anger that made it that way. Maybe it was something entirely different. Either way, the demon was worried. It was a huge ark. There were near to no waves at all. Which meant, the floor was practically not shaking any bit. Zane glanced at him, help to seek. The angel sighed dramatically once more.

"I'll make you some ginger tea." The demon finally said.

"I'll feel miserable till the end of-"

"You'll be fine in two or three days, trust me." The demon assured him. Zane took a step forward, then let himself fall against the railing again and got even greener if possible. "What did you eat?" Kai asked as he took the angel carefully by the arm.

"Some tuna I think," Zane admitted reluctantly.

"Bad idea." He sighed as he shook his head. Zane flinched at the word bad. "Let's go inside, ok?" The demon suggested as he half carried him inside. His hands felt hot, but also his touch was strangely calming, and maybe just a little bit nice. "What do you usually do to calm yourself down, angel?" He asked reluctantly. This made the angel jump a bit. Then he looked to the ceiling with a pinch of guilt, as they slowly walked down the stairs and deeper into the Ark.

"I read or write something."

"You should stop that."

"I will do no such thing!" Zane cried as he ripped his arm away and a moment later he grabbed for Kai again because he almost fell over a big rat.

"I mean you should stop that as long as you feel bad." Kai chuckled lightly as he brought the angel back to his cabin which he shared with different breeds of pigeon and two friendly brown chickens.

"Will you read something for me? Please?" Zane asked as he snuggled into a blanket. Kai hesitated for a moment, but then he grabbed a scroll that was lying next to Zane's bed. How could he say no? The angel looked at him expectantly. The scroll was made of dried leaves and the tiny symbols looked like they were written with blood. Since the demon couldn't read, he had to improvise. He sat down next to the angel, not too close but not too far, opened the scroll from the wrong side, and began to tell a story.

Zane closed his eyes and smiled so sweetly that it made Kai almost forget how words work.

But he took a deep breath and continued his story bravely. Kai kept talking quietly over the singing of some budgies, the yawning tiger, the cheeping degu until Zane calmed down enough to not sleep but dream. After he had made sure that Zane was feeling better, the demon left him alone, although he desperately wanted to stay. But he had other things to do...

****************

Zane had rested for hours and was now refreshed. The angel felt much stronger, although still shaky. But now he was bored and he had been thinking about Kai for a while now. For some reason he couldn't explain, he just wanted to see him again. Preferably sooner than later.

"Kai? Where are you? Could you... Could you read me another story, please?" He shouted as loud as he dared, which wasn't very loud, as he approached the section where there were zebras, some apes, and a few butterflies. It was quite dark. Only a few candles lit this section. There he found Kai, but the demon didn't look pleased to see him.

"Wait a moment, Snowflake; don't come here." He said, sounding nervous.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" Zane asked and went there, anyway. Just then, a young girl that had been hiding in the shadows and he had almost walked into ran and hid behind Kai. He stared at a terrifying demon surrounded by small children, mouth agape. Two were holding his hands and one was sitting on his shoulders, badly braiding his long hair with tiny and probably not very clean fingers. In the background, they heard a hog making some unhappy sounds.

"What did you do?!" Zane almost hissed.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Kai said, trying to act innocent.

"I'm talking about the children! Where do they come from?"

"Oh.. hey... I haven't even noticed them."

"Kai." Zane scowled as he crossed his arms. He uncrossed them again, however, because he needed them for stability. He felt himself getting sick again. Was the floor getting shakier?

"You can't kill children." The demon finally said softly.

"WE CAN'T- can't keep them here." He insisted, trying to keep his tone down as the small girl sitting on Kai's shoulders started crying.

"What do you intend to do? Throw them overboard? Does the ineffable plan tell you to do that?" Kai snarled and for a moment their eyes were locked. Zane then sighed and fixed his gaze on the floorboards as the demon glared at him.

"What now, angel?"

"No, I don't –Do you even know how to take care of children?"

"Do you?" Kai asked sarcastically.

"No, I don't…"

"Me neither." The demon sighed. Zane watched the kids held Kai's hands and hid behind him. He quickly realized that they were afraid of the angel. After a moment of careful consideration, ha decided that he didn't want them to fear an angel. He was supposed to be the good one. "Do you think about snitching?" Kai asked, his voice sounded somehow hurt.

"No, I- I thought, that we both don't know how to take care of children, but maybe we could learn it together." He offered awkwardly. At first, the demon felt like he was petrified, but then he sighed.

"If you want to, yeah, whatever; you look for something to feed them and maybe a bit of clean water and Ava over there wants to see the unicorn so I'll go with her and show her if you keep an eye on the others for a while because I can't take all of them there because Amon over there is scared of horses and I don't know how he will react to a unicorn." He shrugged and Zane nodded. They had never taken care of living beings, before. Okay, not really.

But they learned quickly and all the children survived.

Kai in his snake form would curl around the children to keep them warm. Zane would cook something nutritious for them to eat. He would eat most of it, but they're also would be more than enough for the children. After that, they would talk. Tell stories on a stormy night to calm everyone down. Mostly the angel, because the shaking of the ark didn't make him feel good. Still, his stomach would get upset from time to time.

"I'm glad, you were there," Zane said one night quietly, as they watched over the children sleeping. Kai didn't answer. He picked up a beautiful feather of a parakeet and gently put it in Zane's hair.

"I gave the Mammoths' ration to the children; I mean... it's a huge animal, so it should be fine without one dinner." He said casually after a while. Then the angel wondered, when the last time was, that he fed the mammoths. It couldn't be this long ago. The Ark would have a little fewer passengers when it arrived than when it started sailing. But the children would all survive and grow to be adults. Raised by an angel and a demon, all of them got to be fundamentally human.

Lurking between the goats, there was a second demon which none of the other beings noticed.

Even then he had smelled bad, but to be completely honest, everywhere on the Ark it smelled pretty bad. Between lurking sessions, he enjoyed scaring the birds. There were a few penguins that he didn't like. One had bitten his hand when he tried to pet it. Therefore Morro made the penguin stop flying. All the other birds hated him for that. Sometimes he also scared some children. But weren't there more than there were supposed to be? One time he saw the demon Kai holding the hand of a small girl as she cried.

After a while, she stopped crying as he talked to her calmingly and fell asleep in Kai's arms.

This confused Morro. Why would he do that? This was the first time when Morro suspected something. He didn't like it. Something was going on, something fishy, and it wasn't the fish. He couldn't prove it though, not just yet. He didn't know how to yet. But he was lurking in the shadows, ready to strike. Still, he was new to the job, but he gave his best and already could do an impressive amount of lurking in a day or preferably at night...

#ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #oppositeshipping #guilty pleasures #ninjago morro #ninjago fanfiction

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laora-inn · 4 years

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Supernatural - Some speculations about the last 7 episodes of 15th season

Well, after 2 trailers, episodes descriptions on IMDB and some unfinished plot-lines of SPN story I’d like to share my own speculations. Some of them are definitely wrong.

Destiel positive, happy end positive, don’t like - don’t read.

Season 15 | Episode 14. Last Holiday

A filler - that’s how we anime fans call episodes which have no deal with the main plotline, though can contain some interesting moments and nuances. In “Supernatural” these episodes usually have no Cas in them. Sometimes they are very good... but mostly not. They are “just for fun”, and fans enjoy them, because they can be really funny. No angst.

Like this one - no angst, no Cas, a wood nymph who looks like Mary Poppins to me (or Mrs. Marple whatever). Some British origin of the character.

That’s the episode which shots with Dean in purple nightgown are from (trailer short version).

I suppose the shot with Dean, Sam and Jack flying in the air could also be here from. But maybe not.

I don’t know where Cas may be. His absence should be explained to us in some way. In episode 10th he was missing because of talking to the angels. What’s now? Some preparations for the next Jack's trial?

In this episode Dean should come closer to Jack’s forgiving.

Season 15 | Episode 15. Gimme Shelter

I have NO IDEA what this episode is about. Maybe the next trial for Jack? Or not?

I think the shot from the last trailer with Cas protecting Jack on the truck bed is from this episode. Also, some tortured person on the bed with the “lust” written above could be from it.

And what about Sam and Dean? Where are they?

I think they may have their own journey here, separate from Cas and Jack. Possibly the epic shots with them entering some building are this episode from. Possibly not.

Season 15 | Episode 16. Drag Me Away (From You)

I don’t like this episode title. It looks like Destiel mocking to me - maybe, I just don’t have enough faith. I want to trust SPN writers but can’t. Somebody help me to believe, we all need that now! :)

THE ONLY episode in ALL THE SHOW except this one that had brackets in the title was 12x12, Stuck in the Middle (With You). Yahoo.

Obviously, 12x12 was a parody to the Reservoir Dogs, a movie by Quentin Tarantino. Parody in a good sense of this word, but still. The plotline, the scenes (oh, this lunch scene from different points of view!), the scenes’ order, the roles, though changed - all of them. In case you didn’t watch Reservoir Dogs, just go and watch it, and then re-watch 12x12. You will understand.

"Stuck in the Middle with You" is Stealers Wheel song which was in the OST of this Tarantino’s movie. This allusion should deal with boys’ and Mary relationship - because it’s her who betrayed them involuntarily, and now they are stuck in the middle with her.

But somehow this episode title also deals with Destiel relationship. Maybe ‘cause that’s Cas who is dying, not Mary. Maybe ‘cause even on his deathbed he doesn’t confess something important - not about his betrayal, there was no one, but about his feelings. He says "I love you”, but then adds “I love all of you”, and Dean is literally stuck in the middle with Cas here.

Back to the brackets in the episodes titles. Because of them I suppose that 12x12 and 15x16 could be connected. But how exactly?! That’s the question. I want them badly to be connected in Destiel way, but know too little.

Back then I supposed that Dean could be dying in this episode and it would be his turn to confess something to Cas. But now I don’t know if there will be Cas in this episode at all, I just don’t have enough information.

I hope he will.

Btw, the words “Drag Me Away (From You)” are in Toto’s song “Africa”. And in case you didn’t know, in 2018 this song was used for half-an-hour Destiel video made by fan here. It covers ALL the Destiel moments then far. Link for this video is in Supernatural wiki, in the Destiel article. Half an hour, 10 repeats of the song, author’s comment:

Along the way it stopped being funny and started getting insulting because this has been a literal decade (as of 2018 the vid features seasons 4-13) and the show has explored ALL of the tropes and yet and yet and yet...

I mean the fangirl shipper part of me also loves it. And then I get mad because I love it. I have a very complicated relationship with Supernatural but that's okay.

Have you heard the good news about Tragic Widow Dean?

TLDR: Have a supercut of all the DeanCas stuff set to Toto's Africa.

We can speculate a bit about this fact, but the truth is we know only about young Sam and Dean, who certainly will be in this episode.

I think shots with Billie talking to Dean from the last trailer also belong to this episode, as well as shots with young Dean with Samulet, who is a ghost now. But these assumptions could be totally wrong.

What circumstances will take us to the young Sam and Dean? Time travelling? Flashbacks? The parallel world?

Personally I think it will be the third option. Because how the hell young Dean can be a ghost in “our” universe? Unless it’s not Dean, though I doubt it. But if it’s not Dean, it can be a flashback, you know, with the young boys. Yep?

We’ll wait and see.

I don’t think that Sam’s appreciative words to Dean refer to this episode.

Also I don’t think Sam is going to sacrifice himself AGAIN (I’ve heard such an opinion). But maybe it’s my hope that makes me think in a wrong way.

Season 15 | Episode 17. Unity

I think some of Chuck’s shots are from this episode. Maybe the red lights in the bunker too. Maybe not.

There also should be Amara and some angels. I saw Uriel in the cast! Maybe there also be some light lit on the all situation in Heaven now, when Jack made new angels.

Some interaction between all of them + Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack should take place. Here the shot with sigil could be taken from.

What side the angels will take? How it happened that Uriel is alive? Was he resurrected by Chuck or Amara? What plans does Amara have, how is she planning to deal with Chuck?

And what’s for Naomi? Will she come back or not? I think she won’t, not in this episode for sure, and I’m already disappointed ‘cause you know, she should be alive. Dumah said she is. For me Naomi is an important figure considering Destiel, and I think she’d be the best Heaven runner.

All in all, in this episode should happen something that will make Cas happy. I suppose by the end of 15x17 or in the beginning of 15x18 they all will be sure that they have won the game, and Dean will forgive Jack for Mary.

The episode title may refer to angels’, Winchesters’ and Amara unity.

Season 15 | Episode 18. Despair

Well, in Supernatural wiki I also saw “The Truth” title for this episode.

Most of us are convinced that in this episode Cas will tell Dean about his deal with the Empty and will be taken by it. I believe the same.

I think shot with Billie knocking with her hand rotten belongs to this episode.

I have some doubts, but also think a shot with Dean leaning on Cas is from here.

I’m sure that “You fought for this whole world” and Dean’s crying scene belong to this episode. ‘Cause you know. Despair. And the truth - about Cas’s deal and possibly about their fake win.

Billie’s with her scythe and bunker intrusion symbols could also be from here (or from one the previous episodes ends, especially for Billie - as a cliffhanger). And it should be the case for Sam and Jack, I suppose. Because there is no other way for Dean and Cas to face Cas’s deal with just two of them.

Destiel confession will be here, in more explicit form that it could be in 15x16, because there will be A TALK, but I don’t think we’ll see something real explicit.

Maybe, Dean’ll say he loves Cas. Maybe not. I’m sure only about the fact that we’ll cry by the end of this episode. And that will be AN UGLY CRYING, just as Jensen said.

Well, maybe there will be a hint that Cas can be brought back, but I think it won’t. So prepare yourselves, my friends.

Season 15 | Episode 19. Inherit the Earth

Here I think Sam’s appreciative words to Dean are taken from. They are definitely comforting. ‘Cause you know, Cas is dead, Chuck is alive. Possibly Cas was in his way and Chuck erased him by making him believe in their win.

I also think Dean’s crying words “this whole mission, saving the world” belong to this episode and will be in conversation with Sam.

They still need to fight Chuck, and Jack is still alive. Here Michael will appear and helps. And there is one moment Sergey mentioned in 15x07, about the key to the Death’s library. He even described what it looks like! Cas heard that as well as Eileen. Well, if Cas is taken, then Eileen should return to the Winchesters, maybe with Sam and Jack, or just tell them about this key.

I don’t know what they are going to do after. Open this library? How? Find how to kill God? Or not? Will they try to save Cas?

I think they will not talk about Cas’s saving. And he will be dead in this episode for sure.

Also I think they’ll deal with God in this episode, one way or another.

Season 15 | Episode 20. Carry On

This is a land of unlimited speculation!

I hope Dean’ll have Cas back by the end of episode. I think Cas’ll save himself from the Empty, ‘cause, you know, he has a big goal there. The Empty tortures all the dead angels and demons, as far as we know. It should be fixed - Cas’s already made a promise to Ruby. And we know that Cas has no problem with ruining something and messing it up - he is basically THE GREAT TRICKSTER of this show.

Rebelling against Heaven and ruining angels’ plans? Check. Stopping Apocalypse? Check. Opening Purgatory? Check. Becoming a new God? Check. Bringing the Leviathans? Check. Casting all the angels out of Heaven and burning their wings? Check. Becoming human? Check. Becoming an angel by devouring other angels’ grace? Check. Getting an army of angels? Check. Giving up this army for one human? Check. Kidnapping angels’ prisoner? Check. Letting Lucifer in? Check. Helping “an abomination”, Devil’s son, to be born? Check. Annoying Empty so much that it brought him back to life? Check. Making a deal with the Empty? Check.

It’s very dangerous to mess with Cas, you just don’t know what he could do for the greater good, and yep, in some way Dean was right when he said that Cas is “something that’s always going wrong”. So I think the Empty is in trouble here, not vice versa.

Also, there is one more thing that bothers me. When Nick in 14th season was praying to Lucifer, he woke him up in the Empty. Theoretically, Lucifer can be awake by now. It could be a dead end, but still. Lucifer’s “true face” is similar to the Empty’s, sooo...

I don’t know what to think about it and the fact that Nick could reach Lucifer and return him from the Empty, so let’s move on.

I hope for the happy end for Sam (maybe with Eileen) and for all the hunters we know. They are family.

NO MCD here! If someone’ll die - they shouldn’t be Sam, Dean or Cas. I don’t want to see Eileen’s death either. I don’t know what about Jack. I don’t want him to die, but he is 100% supernatural being, and I am not sure what it means for him to die.

Monsters should stay, hunters should hunt them. We’ll see that the “family business” thrives.

There should be an order on the all levels - in Heaven, Hell and on Earth. There should be the new Death - of they should return Billie. Rowena running the Hell would be perfect. Wonder if Naomi could run Heaven. Maybe it will be Chuck? If he will be redeemed. Or Michael.

I don’t know what’s for the Empty and Amara.

I don’t know what the end for Jack will be. I’d like he will be alive, but I just don’t know. He can’t be a human. That will be right thing for Cas, but not for Jack.

I hope for Destiel endgame, as well as for Sam/Eileen. Cas should become a human, maybe, with some supernatural skills left.

I doubt that we have proper scenes of these ships together or Cas’ humanity. Just hints. But they can be very obvious - especially if we’ll see Dean’s reaction to Cas’s returning.

So, I hope to see them.

But, as I said, it's a land of unlimited speculation. We’ll wait and see.

What else should be resolved:

- Kevin can’t stay a ghost! It’s my main point here. He also can’t go to Hell. What will happen with him and in which episode? I don’t know. I just hope they won’t forget about him.

- There is the shot with Bobby from? 15x20? He should be somewhere.

- Also, there should be Charlie in this season unless something’s changed. Where is she?

- What are they going to do with alternative!Winchesters from 15x13? They will rest? They will make another HunterCorp? They will be gone?! Come on, something needs to be done with them! Of course, they are not so important here, so the writers can forget about them, but still, I’m interested.

What am I going to do:

I'm going to watch all the last episodes of the season. AND THEN, if there will be no happy end for the Winchester boys and Cas won’t be with them, I'm going to rebel. :) In every possible way - petitions, letters, actions etc. We are grown-up people here. We can fight for our rights, and it's my crucial right - to be happy about my favorite show ending. :)

__________________

Feel free to ask me anything or to comment. My ask is working!

#destiel #supernatural #spn #castiel #lucifer #dean winchester #deancas #eileen leahy #supernatural final season #supernatural 15 #kevin tran #charlie bradbury #bobby singer #rowena macleod #casdean #billie the reaper #destiel meta #destiel-meta

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tommyquackson · 5 years

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Getting Me a Little Bit | t. holland | part 1

Not My Gif

summary: toms an angel but his life begins changing when he meets one of the most dangerous monsters he’s ever heard of, you. angel!tom and demon!au

warnings: angels, demons and supernatural creatures,

note: new series!!! mostly based of the song Horns by Bryce Fox because i love that song so much.

New York City was bright and alive at 2:57am on a Friday. It was almost the witching hour, which usually meant Tom would be in the safety of his apartment asleep by now, but his mission required him to be out tonight. He wasn’t exactly excited about it, but he was ready to do his job and carry out the will of God.

His mission was to gather info on a supposed succubus at one of the more popular clubs in NYC. As a field angel, Tom was to report back to the higher ups about what they found and then they’d intervene is necessary. He always felt a little disappointed at this aspect of the job, he wanted to be in the action, actually making a difference on Earth.

He straightens his collar as he walks up to the building entrance, there’s a long line to get in but Tom doesn’t plan on waiting, he’s got to get in there and fast. He takes one look at the bouncer and knows that this place is demon infested; only demons hire Leviathans as their bouncers. He gives himself a mental peptalk as he adjusts the bracelet that allows him to hide his angel form. He walks forward, doing his best to exude confidence and authority, despite having neither. The bouncer takes a look at him, eyebrows raising up, but Tom smirks and pulls out a necklace with a pentagram and a few other demonic symbols. He felt dirty just touching it, much less putting it on, but he needed to get in and blend in. The bouncer nodded and allowed him in, saluting him as Tom passes.

The club was much different on the inside, no doubt a few hexes and charms on the place to keep people coming in and staying. The strobe lights moved like hips across the sea of sweaty people dancing way too close together. It almost looked like a blue, red and green lightning storm, with the bass of the music as the thunder. Tom could feel is bones shake and his brain drum against his skull, he pushed it to the side and began surveying. He walked to the bar, looking around for any signs of the main succubus. He orders a vodka, but turns it to water as soon as he gets his angelic hands on it. He sits at the bar for a while, just watching and pretending to enjoy himself.

“You waitin for someone?” A voice drips sultry from his left side, he turns and sees a gorgeous women with large curly hair, and a tiny red dress on. She’s got a childish devil horn headband sitting in her hair, her nails are long and pointy and clearly fake but it adds to the appeal. She’s shorter than Tom but her heels make her legs look deliciously long. It takes Tom a moment to swallow the surprise in his throat.

“Uh, no, not waitin on anyone” He speaks, finally looking at her eyes, which are sparkling with mischief. She smirks and bites her lip, giving Tom a view of her canines that seem almost too sharp for a human. Of course, she’s a demon, maybe she has some info on the succubus.

“So, you’re looking for someone?” She feigns innocence and for a split second Tom almost believed it. He laughs at himself for even letting her almost trick him.

“Something like that, what’s your name” He smirks, trying his best to play her game, after all, he was supposed to convince these blasphemers that he was one of them.

“Y/n, whats yours pretty boy?” She tilts her head to the side, sipping out a drink that has seemingly appeared in her hand.

“Tom, whaddya say we go somewhere we can...talk” He looks down at her. She smiles widely, standing up straight and grabbing his hand.

“I know just the place” She speaks walking off and pulling Tom through the crowd of people dancing. He watches as she dances through people, still holding onto Toms hand, occasionally pushing her body against his when the crowd gets to dense for them to have breathing room. The finally step into the clear, and walk down a flight of stairs, passing couples in various positions on the way down. She pushes open a red door with a cartoon rendition of the devil as a baby.

Tom finally realizes that it’s her, she’s the succubus, now how does he get out of here without becoming a victim.

“Wow, you’re smart, what are you?” She walks backwards against the door, pulling Tom against her body.

“What do you mean?” He nearly gulps but tries his best to remain calm. She rolls her eyes and runs her hands up his shoulders. The act alone made Tom feel like he was forsaking his Father, he holds down the fear in his stomach.

“Oh come on, you found out I was a succubus, not only that, but you were looking for me, so what are you? A hunter?” She locks eyes with him and he feels himself forcing the answer to the forefront of his brain, he can’t help but blurt it out.

“Angel” He mentally screams at himself to stop speaking to this succubus.

“Oo, an Angel, never had one before. This could be fun” She grins then flicks a finger towards her and a chair slides across the floor and Tom is pushed into it. As he goes to protest, rope begins to quickly slither up the chair and tighten around his legs and wrist. She being slowly swaying her hips, causing Tom to focus on her body and only her body. His struggle seizes and he finds himself unable to form a coherent thought that has anything else to do with the succubus in front of him.

“Tell me Angel, d’you come here to kill me?” She speaks moving into his lap, ghosting red lips against his throat. He shakes his head no as hard as he can, he could never kill her, he wants nothing more than to please her.

“You were gonna tell on me Angel?” She says pouting at him, her eyes look so sad that Tom feels his gut wrench. He looks down at his lap, completely ashamed.

“S’okay Tom, I forgive you. You won’t tell on me anymore” She smirks, he shakes his head no again, looking up at her hopeful that he’s pleased her.

“You wanna know a secret Tommy?” She finally stands and walks around him a couple times.

“Please” he croaks out, his voice raspy.

“I’m not a succubus” She giggles dropping down to a squat in front of Tom. His face twists in confusion and he begins sputtering trying to puzzle what she could possibly be, she shows all signs of a Succubus. except the telekinesis, that’s more a demon thing.

“I’ll let you guess, here’s a hint. My daddy’s very high up, and i’ve got a pair of these” She practically whispers out, as she says it, two horns grow from her hair, slithering into shape of the horns on her headband. Her whole eyes have turned red, with flames dancing around. Her pupil had completely disappeared, making her eyes look much bigger.

He doesn’t get it for a second, like a riddle that takes a few seconds to solve. He thinks, running through the list of every higherup demon he can think of until it hits him. Demons don’t have horns, there’s only one that does, Lucifer. She’s the Devils daughter. Y/n smiles at the gasp Tom lets out.

“Still gotta feed on humans tho, mama was a succubus, what can I say” She chuckles and runs her hands up and down his thighs. He licks his lips and stares with his lips parted, breathing fast and hard.

“Ya know what Tom, I like you. I’m not gonna use you to feed. I’m gonna keep hanging out with you though, think we’d make great friends.” She states flicking her wrist, making the rope holding Tom down falls to the ground. She walks and sits on the bed, crossing her legs and bouncing her top foot.

“You’re letting me go?” He stutters, not quite believeing it. Maybe she likes a good chase, to hunt her prey.

“Sure am, gonna visit you all the time though. We can hang out like mortal friends do. Be a real cool duo.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think either of our fathers would appreciate that.” Tom speaks, that’s the longest sentence he’s been able to confidently say to her yet.

“Oh because our daddy’s are so present in our lives, please. You think i’d be here if my dad actually gave a shit about me. It’s clear you don’t wanna do this either, but you’re an angel so you may not question what the almighty says” She speaks the last part in a deep mocking voice. Tom has nothing to say, letting her know she’s telling the truth.

“Well, go on. I’ll see you soon, don’t stay long or I will feed on you. Haven’t fed tonight” She flashes her fiery red eyes and extended canines at him, jumpstarting his heart and making him almost jog up the steps and out of the hot and humid club.

As he steps out into the street, he breathes deep, confusion clouding his brain. Now that’s he’s nowhere near y/n, he realizes how wrong and purely evil this all is. He rips the necklace off of his neck and places his hands on his head. He should immediately go to his supervisors, but what can they do. Heaven and Hell would wage a mighty war of angels killed Satans daughter. He shakes his head, going back and forth through different scenarios the whole way home.

He gets inside his apartment and locks the door, though he decides to skip the protection protocols. He grabs a water and drinks it down quickly. He crawls into bed and the second before he falls asleep, he imagines y/n laying next to him, wishing him a goodnight.

Toms nose crinkles in his sleep, he’s lightly awaken by the smell of, pancakes? He squints his eyes trying to figure out what was going on. He stands and slowly creeps down the hall and into his kitchen. His breath stops when he’s greeted with the sight of y/n dressed in leggings and a red bleach stained t-shirt. She’s quietly humming as she flips pancakes and stirs eggs.

“Morning tommy,” She sings without turning around.

“Uh, what’re you doing here?” He mumbles looking around to see if anyone else is present.

“think that’s pretty obvious angel, i’m cooking breakfast” She finally turns around, a glowing smile on her face and of Tom didn’t know any better, he’d think she was an Angel herself, except for the horns slightly peeking out of her bouncy curls, they look messier than last night but beautiful nonetheless.

“I didn’t know you were serious, uh last night” He gives in, sitting at the table in the kitchen.

“Course I was, don’t worry, I made sure none of your superiors were here before I showed up.” She winked at him, placing a plate of food in front of him.

Tom has to admit it looks and smells delicious. He’s not one for eating a lot, he has no real reason but he enjoys it every now and then again. She sits across from him and begins eating her plate.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” She asks so casually, it almost tricks Tom to believe they’re a completely domestic and mortal couple.

“I have to go to a mission report meeting, about the uh succubus” He gulps down his food and struggles through the sentence.

“Can I go with you?” She asks and tom almost chuckles before he sees her face and realizes she’s serious.

“I can’t, how would I explain you?” He says eyes wide, he knows that you’re not gonna back down to going.

“I’m an angel, i’m on a long term mission to prove that there’s demons in the NYC government.” She says matter of factly. It’s obvious she put thought into this.

“They’d never believe that, they’ll want to see your records and-“

“You already know I can be very persuasive. As long as they look into my eyes I can be whatever I want and they’ll believe, all under the assumption that they’ve come up with the info themselves. Angels are egotistical and very easy to convince.” She shrugs and stands to clean her plate. “Also, i’m not asking you, i’m coming either way. Gotta make sure my club stays out from under your radar.” She winks at Tom.

He puts his head in his hands and sighs deeply,

“Fine but you have to” He looks up at her and sees her now dressed in white jeans and a light blue sweater. Her horns have completely sunk into her hair and her nails are now short and bare.

“Change? Way ahead of ya angel” She smiles walking out of the kitchen and moves towards his room. He quickly stands and follows her, grumbling about how much trouble he’s going to be in of her plan doesn’t work.

#imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland stan #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #demon!reader #succubus!reader #supernatural creatures #angel!au #angel!tom #marvel #spiderman

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legobiwan · 5 years

Text

Whumptober #9 (shackled)

TW: THIS GETS SCHMOOPY YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I RARELY WRITE ROMANCE BUT YOU KNOW, TIMES CHANGE, THEY COME TO AN END, FOR A START.

Fandom: Good Omens (Aziraphale/Crowley)

Notes: This not at all what I generally write, but these two have hijacked my brain in some weird ways. Less angst than usual, far more schmoop than I amn generally comfortable writing but it’s good to expand one’s horizons. Still grappling with these characters and universe, so thank you for bearing with me, the bar has been set high in the Gomens fandom, dear gods.

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To shackle (v.): to chain with shackles. See: shackles (n.)

Shackles (n.): a pair of fetters connected together by a chain, used to fasten a prisoner’s wrists or ankles together

Aziraphale hadn’t been there when it happened. He fought in the war, of course - everyone had fought in the war. The actual Fall had went by unwitnessed, however, save for the small tug Azirapahle had felt in his chest when Heaven had opened to that great maw, flinging no less than one-third of his angelic siblings into the impenetrable void.

No one knew for certain what happened after, and first-hand accounts from demons were rather hard to come by. Rumors spread - some had tried to crawl back to Heaven, they said, the enormity of their error made real by the loss of Her Grace. Others welcomed their Fall, dancing, reveling in the maelstrom of indignity and damnation, internalizing their pain to use as a cudgel against others. Still some struggled in the new order, neither desperate for a return nor willing to accept their new fate with open arms.

Soon enough, they all came to know their place, essences shackled to Hell, to their new master.

That, at least, had been the rumor in Heaven.

But Aziraphale had seen the angry, red welts on Crowley’s wrists and ankles in the beginning, and wondered if the rumors were true.

To bind (v.):

1. To tie or fasten (something) tightly

2. To cohere or cause to cohere in a single mass

3. To impose a legal or contractual obligation on; be hampered or constrained by

All things being equal, it wasn’t that difficult to summon and bind a demon. Aziraphale found this perplexing. For a mortal to summon and bind an angel - well, it just didn’t happen and woe betide the angel who found themselves caught in such an embarrassing (and dangerous) situation. One would think Hell might take better precautions, but if the multitude of accounts regarding demon-summoning in the 1800s were anything to go by, this type of activity was categorized more as an occupational hazard than existential threat.

Still, Hell almost always came out on top, as the humans did have a tendency to enter into ill-conceived arrangements with whatever demon they had managed to wrest from the occult plane. The maths worked out in Hell’s favor (between the two sides, it was widely accepted Hell had better accountants. The devil was in the details, after all), and the house always wins. Doubly so when it came to making bargains with the agents of Hell.

And besides, the humans - well, one generally didn’t call upon a demon to do good deeds, now did they? It wasn’t a net loss for Heaven - those sould had been written off the ledger years before Hell got involved.

(Not that demons were called on to do good deeds, in general. That was, excepting certain situations involving Aziraphale and one particular demon.)

Crowley had disappeared three decades into the 16th century.

And then one day, he staggered into Aziraphale’s quarters, complexion chalky, his hands shaking as he grasped the flagon of wine on the angel’s table, downing the contents in one long gulp.

“Where were you?” Aziraphale asked, hours later, neither he nor Crowley having moved from their spots on the floor.

“Summoned. Humans. Nasty business,” Crowley croaked, laying his head on the angel’s thigh. It took less than a minute for the demon to still, mouth open, snores soft as his chest rose and fell with a regular rhythm. Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley’s chest, eyes shuttering closed with uncharacteristic sleepiness.

The next morning Crowley was gone.

To chain (v.): to fasten, bind, or connect with or as if with a chain. See: chain (n.)

Chain (n.): a series of usually metal links or rings connected to or fitted into one another and used for various purposes (such as support, restraint, transmission of mechanical power, or measurement)

Most humans used a calendar to mark time. Aziraphale, being an angel and therefore accustomed to thinking of events in terms of decades and not weeks, used Crowley as his personal calendar. Or more precisely, Crowley’s clothing.

Linens gave way to fitted garments. Heels rose, then tapered in concert with bottoms, which peaked and fell like the tides. And as fashion changed, so did Crowley, a serpent in new skin.

By the 1970s, Crowley had recycled his pants from the Victorian era (“Reusing pants, Crowley?” “Eh, everything comes back, angel. Besides, think of it as Sloth in action, er...non-action, this is. Why make the effort to miracle up something new when I can use something old?”) The long velvet jacket had been a nice touch, although Aziraphale had not been convinced by Crowley’s hair, and certainly not the mustache. It was during the contemplation of said facial hair (and how he might tempt - persuade, rather, the demon to shave it off) that the angel noticed the glint of silver, evidence of a long chain looped around Crowley’s neck. Aziraphale, having lost track of fashion fads somewhere in the eighteenth century, took it as another adaptation of the times and thought nothing more of it.

Except it was now the 1980s, and wide lapels and polyester had given way to egregious shades of neon and tight spandex pants that left little to the imagination. Cheeks flushed, Aziraphale was keeping his gaze trained on the demon from the waist-up, thank you very much, when something caught his attention. A raised outline, on the demon’s chest. If he concentrated, Aziraphale could hear the subtle scrape of metal against metal as Crowley sauntered through Soho.

By the time the 90s had rolled around, (and had thankfully ended the spandex era, there was only so much temptation the angel could withstand), Aziraphale had a working hypothesis.

“It’s nothing, angel,” Crowley responded to his inquiry. They were two bottles of wine in, inhibitions fading with the afternoon sun.

“Crowley, you’re been wearing that - that thing for the past three decades. You can barely keep the same style for five years! Just tell me what it is.”

The demon glanced down at his chest, silver links showing just above his collarbone. Crowley tucked the chain under his black shirt, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Why does it matter to you?”

The angel frowned. It didn’t matter, shouldn’t matter, but - two bottles of an exquisite Shiraz was making it difficult to remember why. It was something about consistency. Something about being marked, about the symbolism. It was like wearing an amulet, or...Aziraphale’s mind searched for an appropriate metaphor.

Or like a wedding ring, he supposed.

Crowley sagged in his chair.

“It’s Hell, angel.”

“What?” Aziraphale’s stomach sank.

“I mean, literally, Hell’s idea. A way, uh,” Crowley pulled at his collar, muttering at the floor. “A way of reminding me who I belong to.”

Oh.

“Crowley, this isn’t some kind of punishment, is it?” Aziraphale bit his lip, casting his eyes upwards. “For our, uh - you know?”

“Oh, well. No, I mean. The Arrangement - no one knows you’re involved, angel, don’t worry.” Crowley made a show of looking at his watch. It was new, large, and incredibly fancy. “Oh hey, look at the time, angel, I’d better be going.” The demon was already halfway across the room by the time he finished the sentence.

“Still on for the theater tomorrow?” Crowley called over his shoulder, jacket crumpled over his arm.

“Yes, but Crow - “

“Super! Great! See you later, angel.”

The door slammed shut.

“No one knows you’re involved, angel.”

But Crowley hadn’t said Hell didn’t suspect one of their own.

To cuff (v.): to handcuff. See: handcuff (v.)

To handcuff (v.):

1. to apply handcuffs

2. to hold in check; to make ineffective or powerless

They had both been cuffed, dragged to their respective organizations, wrists locked together, hands immobile, rough, celestial and demonic rope playing the part of handcuffs. An angel in the guise of a devil, at the mercy of Hell’s whims. A devil, masquerading as an angel, offering himself to a second Judgement.

A simple snap would have broken their bonds. The line between angel and demon was not the thick, measured boundary both sides pretended (they were of the same original stock, after all), but in this case, there was an important difference. Simply put, bindings for an angel would not contain a demon and vice versa.

There had been no other choice but to go ahead with the plan. If they ran, Heaven and Hell would follow, track them through every city, star system, every nebula of the universe. If they went to their respective offices as themselves, feigning contrition, they would be destroyed. And fighting, no matter how much Crowley protested otherwise, was not an option.

And so they went willingly, bound not in body, but to the promise they made each other.

To hold (v.):

1. to support in a particular position or keep from falling or moving

2. to cover (a part of the body) with one or both hands (as for protection or comfort)

3. to have or maintain in the grasp

It took a week after the cancelled Apocalypse for Crowley to break down.

Nothing of note had precipitated the event. They had gone to dinner - an adorable French cafe nestled at the edge of Hyde Park. It boasted a crepe bar, truffle gnocchi, and a delightful Rosemary Vesper cocktail, of which Crowley had partaken of three before hurriedly moving on to the wine list with more frantic zeal than seemed appropriate for the occasion.

Still, the dinner passed with idle conversation and the scraping of silverware, an altogether pleasant experience. Bellies full, they ambled through the park, Aziraphale chatting about nothing at all as the London sun gave up its struggle to break through the haze of mid-winter, ceding its territory to dusk, then to evening’s dark blanket.

A few ducks huddled near the Round Pond, no doubt to find warmth in the cooling air. Aziraphale envied their closeness, his gaze flitting towards the thin, shivering figure at his side. Ridiculous, really, to be jealous of animals only acting according to their nature.

Crowley shoved his hands further into his jacket pockets, shoulders taut, high around his ears.

“Crowley, is everything okay?” Aziraphale worried at his hands. The demon had been - well, for lack of a better word, off the whole night.

“Mmnnit’s fine, just a little chilly out here. You know, sssnake and all.” Crowley shrugged, kicking at some loose dirt.

“Really, Crowley just - “ In two steps Aziraphale was at Crowley’s side, arm poised above the demon’s shoulders, protective instinct hijacking his better judgement.

Crowley’s eyes went moon-wide.

And then the demon deflated, burying his face in his hands.

“I can’t do this anymore, angel.”

The next moment were a blur. Hands grabbed at thick, woolen clothing, wet eyes found sanctuary in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, mumbled, broken confessions whispered into his shoulder.

They were on the grass, Aziraphale leaning against a sturdy oak tree, a tangled mess of demon in his arms. The angel stroked the soft, fiery air, whispering nothing syllables as he held Crowley in his arms.

It’s going to be alright, he said. And for the first time in centuries, Aziraphale believes it.

To tie up (v.):

1) To restrain from normal movement.

Aziraphale tightened the final knot. The demon certainly wasn’t going anywhere. Not without his help, that was.

2) To keep busy.

The angel chuckled to himself, running a hand through Crowley’s hair, tugging lightly at the roots. They would both by rather busy for next few hours.

3) Preempt the use of

Yes, well, Aziraphale flushed. That was rather the point, was it not?

4) To connect closely

It was a gesture of trust, all of this, the way Crowley allowed himself wholly into Aziraphale’s care. It was a responsibility, a solemn duty, to be gifted with the small, glowing orb of Crowley’s trust, and Aziraphale swore to never breach, never break what he had been given. Later, he’ll wrap Crowley in his arms, when it was all done, when love poured from the demon in tired, euphoric waves, their limbs tangled together, cocooned by thick, soft duvets and softer emotions.

Aziraphale smiled.

To secure (v.): To make permanent.

Aziraphale held his hand to his face, silver band gleaming in the moonlight. Long fingers intertwined with his own, the metal of Crowley’s own ring cool against the angel’s lips.

“You’re trapped now, angel,” Crowley hummed, waggling his ring finger. “Shackled by a demon.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

legobiwan does whumptober

#WELL THAT HAPPENED #whumptober #whumptober 9 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens spam #yes i'm behind trying to catch up #i'm not sure if i will #whumptober might go into novemebr #i think i can churn out one more tonight but i gotta get to some applications first #as i listen to messiaen organ music #writing #the eternal struggle #honestly i'm not sure how much i like this one but i am committed to finishing this damn whumptober even if i do it late

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roominthecastle · 6 years

Text

There's been much debate about the identity of the Incomplete One but so far not much concrete info to go on, so we are still just speculating. Which is what I am gonna do behind a read more, too, and a lot of it.

I know the "Wendigo view" is a popular one and for good reason. This "Naphil/Bastard Spirit view" is actually quite close to that interpretation and (given the similarities of the two entities involved) could be regarded as a "religious remix" of it.

There are several interpretations concerning the identity of the Nephilim, too, but I am going with the "angel view" here, according to which they are semidivine beings born of the sexual mingling of fallen angels and mortal women.

"Nephilim" can be interpreted as "the Fallen Ones", "the Violent Ones" or "giants". They are stuff of legends, the "warriors of old". They and/or their possible descendants are variously referred to as Elioud, Anakim/Anak, Emim (“Terrors”), Rephaim ("Shades"), Gibborim (“Giant Heroes”), Awwim (“Devastators” and “Serpents”).

They are mentioned and alluded to in various sources including the Old Testament (e.g. Genesis, Numbers, Ezekiel), the New Testament (e.g. Peter, Jude), and the apocryphal Book of Enoch, the content of which is echoed/reinforced in the Biblical books indicated above.

More on these behind the cut:

Genesis 6:4:

"The Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown".

Enoch elaborates:

And it came to pass when the children of men had multiplied that in those days were born unto them beautiful and comely daughters. And the angels, the children of heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: ‘Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.' … And they were in all two hundred; …

[They] took unto themselves wives, and each chose for himself one, and they began to go in unto them and to defile themselves with them, and they taught them charms and enchantments and the cutting of roots, and made them acquainted with plants. And they became pregnant, and they bare great giants, whose height was three thousand ells. Who consumed all the acquisitions of men.

And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another’s flesh, and drink the blood. … And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways.

So, 200 rebel angels ("sons of God") took mortal women ("daughters of man") as wives, and from their unholy unions powerful half-breed giants were born who later on developed a terrible appetite.

The angels' (Watchers) original mission was to protect and tutor mankind. They, however, deviated from the original plan and began sleeping with mortals. Then, to add insult to injury, they also started teaching them about sorcery, warfare, weapon making, herbalism, astronomy, astrology, meteorology, and even the wicked arts of cosmetics. Most of this knowledge was not meant to be revealed this fast and this early, some never at all, and so it was blamed for the eventual deterioration of mankind. The fallen angels and their offspring came to be viewed as a corrupting, polluting influence that upset the cosmic order, necessitating a "divine correction" to reset the world.

We can find this "demigod connection" in several flood narratives (e. g. Mesopotamian or Greek traditions) where the deluge primarily serves to correct/punish an imbalance caused by human sin, overpopulation, and overstepping of bounds. Boundary breaking, forbidden knowledge, and sin also go hand in hand in the Garden of Eden or Tower of Babel stories where mortal and divine mix in the human desire to "be as gods." Let's just say that this never goes down particularly well with the Lord.

The fallen angels (or “spirit beings who disobeyed”) were cast down into Tartarus ("pit of darkness") to await their fiery destruction with zero chance at salvation. The punishment for mankind came in the form of the Flood that was meant to wipe out their sinful existence and with it the halfbreed Nephilim as well. But some were spared.Their "flesh" died in the deluge but some of them were left to dwell on Earth in the form of dark, disembodied “bastard spirits” until Judgment Day. They have a sort of “divine decree” allowing for their continued earthly presence. Some equate these spirits with the first demons and while they are v similar, I’m not convinced they are exactly the same. Whether these “bastard spirits” are eligible for salvation is left unclear, but the Flood did not finish them off. There is also a direct reference to the Nephilim in a post-Flood era report given to Moses about fearful giants living in fortified towns in a "land that devours its inhabitants" (=Canaan). These are eventually driven out but, once again, some of them survive. What we can conclude for sure is that they are v difficult to eradicate.

How does all this fit into the mixed mythology of The Ancient Magus' Bride (TAMB)?

TAMB draws on various sources for its worldbuilding, and the Bible is one of them. God and the Church hoover on the periphery of the main story, and there are also characters who evoke actual biblical figures.

Characters reference God and Jesus in a manner that signals their existence is not in question and are forces in play, albeit in the background.

Simon is the local priest/preacher who's assigned to observe and report on Elias to his superiors. He has yet to take a more active role but it's clear their relationship is an uneasy one necessitated by lingering concern over Elias' past actions that has nothing to do with him practicing magic: "Why does the Church care so much about you?" "I... did a few things a long time ago. So now they are keeping an eye on me. Confronting them would be a pain for both of us, so sometimes I take care of little errands for them, and they turn a blind eye to me." (Chise and Elias, Chapter 9) "It's the price you pay for your freedom. If it had been any other magus, maybe it wouldn't have caused such a hubbub. But think about it. There has been nary a peep form you for years, and now you suddenly take on an apprentice? I've done my best to hide your actions from the higher-ups, but I can't afford to look the other way this time" (Simon, Chapter 3). "I don't know if you'd count [God] as an ally, but... I'll send up a prayer for you and yours" (Simon, Chapter 39).

Chise names her familiar Ruth which is undoubtedly inspired by the title character of The Book of Ruth who suffers a great personal loss and is the symbol of utmost loyalty and friendship: But Ruth said, "Do not urge me to leave you or turn back from following you; for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Thus may the LORD do to me, and worse, if anything but death parts you and me." (New American Standard Bible) "From now on your home is also mine" (Ruth, Chapter 12). This familiar bond "is the strongest of oaths, a pledge to share anything and everything with the bonded human. Senses, emotions, power, even time. … When you die, he will die, too" (Elias, Chapter 12).

Cartaphilus is none other than the Wandering Jew of Christian legend who is doomed to live until the end of the world because he taunted Jesus on the way to the Crucifixion. According to one version of the story, he struck Jesus and urged him to move faster, to which Jesus replied, “I go, and you will wait till I return.” He was later baptized as Joseph and lived a pious life, hoping for salvation (Encyclopedia Britannica). While TAMB's Cartaphilus is talking a much, much darker approach, he too is ultimately looking for the same thing: "What must we do to find salvation?" (Joseph, Chapter 33)

Rahab also appears in the Bible as an innkeeper/prostitute who helps Joshua's spies. Lindel's master shares her name but we don’t know enough yet to tell what else they have in common.

These examples show that the Bible and its ilk have a clear foothold in TAMB, which opens up all sorts of possibilities, one of them being the Nephilim theory. We don't know much about Elias, but what we know appears to line up with (the similarly limited) information about the Nephilim:

(1) The Nephilim are half-breed giants born from the unholy union of fallen angels and mortal women.

Elias in his "natural form" qualifies as a giant. He is also referred to as "incomplete" or "half-formed", an "abomination", and a "failed creature". His half-breed status is repeatedly emphasized, the Spriggan going as far as calling him a "cur" (Chapter 41).

Another curious detail pops up in the 3-part OVA where Chise is gifted a book titled The Lonely Little Star. Miura tells her,

"You might see nothing but pitch-black darkness right now. But you have to keep trying and trying, looking into the dark world. And off in the distance you'll surely find some light. … like the child of a star. And when you find the child of a star, they will surely find you, too. And you'll shine light on each other. And then your world will no longer be pitch-black. ... I truly believe you will meet a child of a star who will light your world."

If we accept that Elias is one of the Nephilim, then he was fathered by a fallen angel. Angels are associated (often identified) with stars, so it follows that he would be called "a child of a star". Him meeting Chise brings light into her life and vice versa. His dual nature - commented on by Alice in Chapter 11 ("sometimes we were allies, and at other times enemies.") -, however, means that there is also considerable darkness in him. He is a curse (darkness) who is also a blessing (light) when it comes to Chise - an odd duality that’s also touched upon in the manga when Rahab remarks, “Curses and blessings are fundamentally the same thing. It all depends on how you receive them” (Chapter 16). Chise has been nothing but kind and accepting of Elias, which is beginning to transform him.

(2) The Nephilim came to be regarded as a curse, a pollution. Most of them perished in the Flood but some survived as disembodied "bastard spirits" that wander the Earth until Judgment Day.

Elias himself confesses to Chise that his nature is shadow and, as a result, he is not good at e.g. cleansing magic. He is repeatedly accused of being destructive and in Chapter 41 he actually takes the form of a dark black cloud. The Spriggan then reprimands him, saying that he defiles the land and pollutes the world when he loses control over himself like that. He also seems to hold Elias responsible for an event or events involving the disappearance of many spirits and humans (Chapter 8).

The fae remark that Elias has a stench. When Chise falls victim to the dragon's curse, she is also told by an aerial that she has a stink about her now (Chapter 39). If cruses smell bad to fae, then it's likely that Elias carries a curse, too. Bastard spirits are cursed to walk the Earth until the end of days. Walking is one of the three things Elias can (or lets himself to?) remember from his still unknown past. He is also associated with thorns. Thorns signify grief, suffering, tribulation, mockery, sin and the curse of/punishment for sin (cf. the crown of thorns).

(3) The Nemphilim's chief sin was unnatural, unrestrained appetite. They devoured humans, animals, then "one another’s flesh, and [drank] the blood."

We don't yet know what happened to Elias, but we know that when Lindel first encounters him and asks what he is, Elias only replies, "I’m hungry," then promptly collapses. Later he says the only thing he remembers before his long walk is "red". He also confesses to having eaten humans before and to still having that urge from time to time.

Rahab, Lindel's master, describes Elias as follows:

He's got the feeling of a spirit or a faerie all over him, but at the same time, there's definitely something human about him, too. If he was just a human who'd botched a dark spell, then things would be simple. But no. This is actually more like the opposite" (Chapter 16).

The opposite would be a curse that's botched being human. This matches what Renfred says about him earlier, that he is a "filthy abomination, unable to become fully human, unable to return to being a spirit" (Chapter 6), and also how Elias describes himself to Chise: "I'm incomplete, you see. I'm not human but I'm not faerie, nor a spirit" (Chapter 7).

Bastard spirits are cursed and can be considered curses themselves (see above about pollution & corruption). They are alternatively called "shades" and are associated with death. In Chapter 21, a dying Joel asks Elias if he is Death, to which he replies, "Something like that." (having a skull for a head is also a nice visual clue here). If Elias is a dark spirit looking to end his cursed, incorporeal wandering, it makes sense that he is trying to rebuild what he's lost: his humanity (which is also the likely key to salvation).

He's already attempted to do this by crafting a "a shell of flesh" for himself, but it is rather flimsy/unstable still and, as it turns out, not the way to become human. Chise already told him that his meticulously crafted full glamour looks fake, and most recently Elias himself realized that the change actually needed was never external. Unlike his "human facade", his internal development is genuine, and if the story doesn't stray from its Beauty and the Beast roots, then we will likely see true love break yet another curse.

Oberon comments on this "project" in Chapter 8:

"Your change is truly splendid to behold, Incomplete One. Once you only watched from the shadows, but now you have a human at your side. You're trying to leave the colourless path you've walked all this time. It is more amusing than you can imagine, watching you play at being part of a pair. But I must wonder, how long can you maintain this facade of warmth for just one person?"

Not exactly a vote of confidence from the King, but the Queen nails it when she refers to Chise as the Other Half of Elias - she is the one who triggered genuine development in him which helps him rebuild his lost humanity.

What both the Queen and King of Fae share is a sympathetic view of Elias. Titania has a pronounced dislike for the Church and its representatives - all those who consider the fruit of paradise evil. The fruit is knowledge, which the fathers of the Nephilim dispensed among humans (sorcery included, so the first magi would have been tutored by them too). It wasn't knowledge that corrupted humans but humankind used knowledge for evil. Oberon also points to human sin when Spriggan blames Elias for an event that claimed the lives of many spirits and humans. Was it a war? Was it the Flood perhaps? There is no way of knowing for sure yet, but Elias definitely has a vicious reputation among fae and human alike, which makes him an outcast walking alone in search of salvation, just as Rahab described:

"Gods and spirits dwell at your side. Though none may look kindly upon you, though you may know hurt, and sorrow, and loneliness, know that they are always there, watching over you. And with that knowledge in your heart, be at ease. Seek your own salvation."

This already sounds like a “penance walk” of sort which folds nicely into the thorn imagery mentioned above. Rahab urged Elias to endure this fate in relative peace and Lindel relaxed his ingrained reflex to kill without consideration: “Take what you need, but only as much as you need to survive. If you have to kill a living thing to eat it, make its death quick and painless” (Chapter 16). If these “taming measures” were necessary, then it’s unlikely that Elias led a tranquil life before.

(4) The Nephilim are referred to as "warriors of old" and at some point were reported to live in large fortified towns.

(source)

Elias is sometimes addressed as Pilum Murialis (the Spear Wall), which evokes similar images to those above - war and fortification. It also has a duality - spear=offense, wall=defense - that's inherent in Elias. There are brief mentions of "great wars of before" where many magi and wizards were killed and their wisdom and knowledge were lost with them, but it is still unclear what exact role Elias played in these events.

Last but not least, Titania remarking that Elias is "our kin in a way" is a small detail that's potentially relevant. There are various theories about the origin of faeries and one of them says that they used to be angels who either got stuck between heaven and hell, or were cast out, i.e. fallen angels. If we accept this and the idea that Elias was born of a fallen angel/mortal union, then they are indeed kin in a way. Sort of half way.

#mahou tsukai no yome #the ancient magus bride #elias ainsworth #musings #speculation #long post

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the-voice-of-hell · 4 years

Text

The Septagram

- Previous - First -

***

Jason rolled the Prius down Beacon Avenue South, heading toward the old Veteran’s Administration building. It was famously owned by Amazon for a minute, but was surely derelict once again. It wasn’t his destination, specifically, when he set out. But he didn’t find those police.

And cruising at a low speed, the drive was a chance to clear his mind. He had the windows down and the fan on. The air smelled smoky, but he thought it was probably from Eastern Washington burning again, and it didn’t alarm him much.

And the place began to grow in his mind. He couldn’t see it past the wall of trees lining the roadside, but he thought about it, pictured it. He knew the trees, like most of the trees in the Puget Sound area, were a thin facade to conceal a barren concrete land, promote the healthy verdant image that helped the state boom and sucker in tourists. Beyond them there were homeless camps, ramshackle derelict homes two minutes from being cleared for condos. And at the end of that strip of hillside, that mighty old art deco hospital building.

Maybe he could just stroll right in. The power was on. Maybe he could use the elevator, get out on the floors Bezos used to walk, get a view of the whole city.

“Movin’ on up, Jase old boy. Movin’ on up.”

Then he was there. He pulled into the driveway in front of the building and just parked there, because why not? The sky was still blue. He smiled at the building. Why was it so pleasing to him at the moment? He didn’t know. Looking up at the big double door though, he saw chains looped through the handles. But just ten feet from that laying in the grass, there was a shovel.

“It’s goddamn kismet.”

He broke and he entered, yet again.

There was a short stairwell up to a fancy landing. The interior had been remodeled extensively to accommodate modern corporate sensibilities. There were organically shaped floating walls paneled in stainless steel like giant lizard scales, concealing modern bathrooms. Only minimal lights were on in side halls. The atrium was dim but for the blue daylight spilling in from the giant windows on a higher level. Long thin wires supported boring ultramodern light fixtures that remained unlit. He wasn’t about to fish for the light switch in the convoluted walls that encircled the area.

He found an elevator and gave it a go. It reached a high floor and he stepped out but he wasn’t convinced he was at the pinnacle yet. He hunted the dully lit corridors for a stairwell. It didn’t take long. The central, highest part of the building didn’t have a very large floor plan.

There it was. A floor paneled in shimmering darkness, the hall leading to one room. A lucite booth stood outside it like an incongruous phone booth, or Roald Dahl’s Great Glass Elevator. What was that for? And beyond it, the room.

He tried the knob and got irate that it was locked. Why? The billionaire had left the building, and surely taken everything that could be anything to anybody with him.

Jason kicked the door a few times uselessly. Then leaning against the wall, he noticed the phone booth was ajar. He looked inside and saw a selection of buttons. He tried pressing them, and soon a clicking sound came from the big man’s door.

He hopped out of the booth in a hurry, hoping it wouldn’t time out on him, and his foot snagged on something. Glancing back for just a moment, he saw a box of “.45 ACP” bullets sitting on the floor.

He ignored it and went inside. Behold, glory. The most important office in the world. Tall brass-plated walls, stained glass above, giant windows below. Jason walked slowly toward them, only a single black desk and tall chair stood between him and the view.

The chair started to spin slowly in place. He jumped a little.

A man sat there, nailed in place with great spikes, stripped to the waist, bleeding in streams, mouth open in a silent wheezing scream, eyes fish-like behind great globs of tears. A little monster like Jabba the Hutt’s pet sat in the man’s lap, zapping his face with a taser until it noticed Jason, and whipped around to offer a happy face.

“Oh god! What the hell is going on her… Is that him? Is that Mr. Bezos?”

The little thing nodded proudly. “Hell is for sinners, bro!”

***

The anarchists couldn’t bring themselves to move. They sat in a circle around Waxy Maxy. He was dead - impaled with an oversized drumstick. Every time someone suggested they get up and move, they just sat back down and cried some more. They had accepted the mark for fear of death. What was left for them? How could they escape from Hell now?

Two women on bicycles rolled to a stop by them. The blonde with glasses looked to be in better spirits and spoke on their behalf. “Hey boys. It’s time to blow this popsicle farm. Come with us and I’ll keep you safe.”

Radical Huang said, “Huh?”

“I’m special, guys. I can do it. Tell ‘em, Rosie.”

“I saw her kill one of them. She’s a freak, dudes.”

They didn’t know what to say, looking at each other, looking at their arms bleeding lightly from the occult symbols pressed into them.

“It’ll be great. Us on our bikes, you on your boards. Let’s get everyone who stayed behind, give ‘em another shot at evacuation. Whaddya say?”

Colin Guts was the first to snap out of the trance of sorrow. “Shit. Shit, you’re right. C’mon dudes! Let’s get the fuck out of here before those things come around.”

“They said we’d be safe,” Duke said.

“After they killed Maxy! Don’t be a bootlicker. We gotta go!”

They started to stand up, to grab their skateboards. Rosemarie looked down at the impaled guy, shuddering. Jennifer slapped her on the arm.

“Hey, pal. You don’t wanna end up like that, right? Let’s burn rubber!”

“Yeah.”

In her heart, Rosemarie felt they had been telling the truth. If she stayed, she could have lived safely as a subject of their queen. But what would that entail? She raised the kickstand and started rolling.

She glanced up to the sky and saw something odd. The wind was blowing, whipping tiny bits of detritus near the tops of the low rise buildings. And through the sky directly above a flock of pigeons flew - single file. They were beak to tail, dozens of birds long, flightpath wiggling like a giant snake.

A fleck of white splattered across her cheek. “Ugh, shit!”

***

A sexy fair man stood in the road, sunglasses concealing his eyes. One could guess he was east asian, or more likely, not human. He wore a long red coat with gold and silver appointments over pure black clothing, his black hair was long on top, waving gently in the gathering breeze. Dusk was drawing in. The suburban street was one eternal strip mall by the name of Covington. Everything from the dentists to the Fred Meyers to the accountants to the combination Pizza Hut and Kentucky Fried Chicken seemed to lean in his direction, praying to their new master.

He sipped a Dairy Queen Oreo Blizzard through a straw, waved the fingers of his free hand in the air, conducting powerful magic. The demons around him were enchanted with invisibility, but it only worked fully when they sat still, and the hyperactive things danced to the sounds of Poison on a bluetooth speaker that sat in the gutter. The song was “Nothin’ but a Good Time.” The things shimmered like heat waves all around him.

A caravan approached - what was left of it after a few of the heavy vehicles ran out of gas along the way. The occupants of those crowded into the remainder, reducing their already pitiful gas mileage. The roofs, sideboards, and hoods were crowded with goat angels and starlings. The lead angel sat on the hood of the lead vehicle - a yellow civilian hummer splattered with blood and gore. He used his hands to prop up his broken wings, thus gesturing for the caravan to stop. Then he hopped down and strolled toward the scene.

“Master Bybaal. I offer servants to your great cause.”

“Have they been pressed with the Queen’s mark?”

“No. Rather your own.”

“You have done well. Marshal them for me.”

He turned around, snake tail arching over his shoulder with intense glowing light in its eyes, his halo fire burned brighter, and his voice boomed. “PRESENT YOURSELVES TO HIM.”

He picked up his standard from where he’d lodged it in the car’s grill and strolled to make room for the goblins. They all piled out of the caravan like it was clown cars and bumbled to stand before their new god.

Bybaal tilted his head, letting the shades slide to the end of his nose, and regarded the motley horde.

“Unworthy creatures. Even the death shield would only serve to have them cut down faster. Resach, what would you do with them?”

“Mm, my wisdom is as far below thee as my station.”

“The evidence stands before me.”

Big Donny nearly hyperventilated, afraid he wouldn’t make the cut. Like being picked last for dodgeball. He was shrieking inside. Let us matter! We are alive! He was drenched in sweat, fast running out of the fluid necessary to continue living.

Resach spoke. “Still, you must be able to empower them in some way.”

“Perhaps. For now stow them in the apartment building down in Tukwila. The one by my dove farm, marked with fire?”

“I can find it. Thank you for allowing me to serve you, my liege.”

“You are welcome. Bear these goblins from my sight.”

“I shall.”

Bybaal returned to his magic chores. He was one of the wheels of Bymaan, broken angels of the highest orders. For now he wove spells at her command. Perhaps soon this wheel would turn another way.

***

A group of survivors huddled in the garage of their apartment building, contemplating escape, unsure of what to do. They all claimed to each other that they hadn’t accepted the mark, but no one was showing their arms. A young man was promising to lead them to safety, but it was hard to make themselves move.

At last they all piled into cars and formed up in a line all the way to the gate. It had been left open. The young man led them out into the street. The idea was to take I-5 all the way to Canada, or possibly divert to State Route 9 to avoid the cities along the way.

They all got out of the parking garage and headed the right way. It was a promising start. But then the road split and a wall of pinkish light beamed into the sky like a curtain, so bright you could see it in the waning daylight. There were multiple low speed collisions and people screaming.

The street ahead began to lift. The whole area of Denny was rising like a step pyramid - the surface chunks staying horizontally level as they rose, the center reaching higher and higher.

Something swam out of the crack in the ground - a white worm-like thing at least dozens of feet long. It smashed its face through the lead car’s windshield and pulled out the young man, lofting him into the air inside its warped jaws. It started to hork him down.

Suddenly it jerked and spat the man back out. He banged sloppy on his car’s roof. The monster was twisting in pain. A human-sized shape whipped around it, stabbing and moving, leaping out of the way whenever it tried to recover.

The people started to leap out of their cars and hustle away from the destruction. A handsome lithe black man with a bald head and close-fitting dark black clothes tried to get their attention. “Don’t run that way! Get away from tall buildings!” He gestured to a parking lot not far away and they complied.

Then the man looked to the battle and came as close as he dared. “CLARK! What are you doing?!”

The blur slowed down long enough to do a little plie and bow. It was an old man in dance shoes, the toes of which were yellow-white with the worm-thing’s ichor. “I’m saving the day. It’s fabulous!”

The worm took advantage, tried to swallow him up, but Clark was too quick. He did a triangle kick off the young man’s car and landed with a sharp toe in the thing’s eye-like area. It flew back, bounced off the concrete, and slipped back into the abyss from whence it came.

The young man weakly propped himself up, looking at the distinguished gentlemen. “What happened?”

“I happened, my boy.”

Thurston shook his head. “Look at this destruction! It might yet cause some buildings to collapse. We need to get to safety.” He helped the young guy down from his car.

The guy said, “We need to get everybody safe. There’s more people in town here, I know it. I don’t want anybody to hafta stay here.”

Clark cocked an eyebrow. “Well let’s see what we can do about that.”

***

Jamie Infante couldn’t take religion as seriously as his parents did. It was too full of bad ideas, cruel beliefs. But now he saw that the world was indeed a cruel game set in motion by an insane God.

He wondered, there in the darkness, the horrible shocks of the hummer jolting him with every bit of grit that passed beneath the thing, he wondered if Jesus was the way. Jesus didn’t bother with condemning gay people, seemed kind and cruel in relatable ways. If Jesus was apiece with the God that created this situation, he must’ve been the sane part.

“Jesus, set me free. In God’s name I will set this world right.”

Killing that fallen angel in Hilltop had probably given him delusions of grandeur. What reason did he have to be so proud, in the trunk of some goblin’s overcompensation machine?

They came to a stop and he braced himself. Any move was an opportunity to break free. It was like the trunk shot from early in Pulp Fiction, the camera looking out at Sam Jackson and John Travolta. But instead it was Infante looking up at two goat-angel soldiers. One looked like a man but for the top of his head being far too small, horns growing where most of his brain should have been. The other had a face like a baby goat - just too small for the human-like body it was attached too - and puffy black and red emo hair spilling out of its basket-like wire helmet.

They were stronger than the goblins, and maybe they understood they’d need strength to deal with this man. Or it could be that the goblins would have killed him outright, but the angels had some other purpose in mind for him.

He looked around, tested himself with a few spasms of the body. No, his legs were bound as well as his hands. No running away yet. He looked around, tried to get as much intel as he could. There were fewer cars. Same number of goblins and demons though. The lead goblin begged for some word of favor from the lead angel and it set him in motion with a flick of the wrist.

Then it turned its attention to him. The goats hauled him closer. The fallen angel said, “You might get to know me better while we are together. I am Resach, a squire in the legions of Bybaal. A sergeant, if you will.”

“Because we’re both sergeants? I’m supposed to like you now?”

“It was worth a try. Jamie Infante? You may not bend your knee to our Queen, but you are a prize nonetheless. If you will just see that your power belongs among ours.”

“Go back to hell, cabrón!”

“Hell, Heaven, Earth. They’re all the same.”

“Then go! Leave us alone.”

The guards bleated laughter.

“That’s how God works. We wouldn’t be so cruel. Come along, Jamie.”

The creature walked up the steps to the shoddy old brick apartment building and his goatmen hauled Infante along behind him.

***

Park was inside his own skull again, in a pool of water-thinned blood. Or was it blood-thickened water? He looked up at the vault of his cranial dome. The fontanelle was closed again. But where was that light coming from?

He felt a shooting pain on the back of his head, clutched it, and looked up to the back of his skull. It was cracked open - must have been from hitting it on the highway. Light poured in, washed over him. He felt the soft thumps of the Greeks walking atop his skull. He pawed around in the pool, tried to find purchase.

Closer now to the crack. He reached into it, tried to look out. But he couldn’t fit his head far enough through it. He pulled, trying to get it to part just a little more. Then the pain in the back of his head became too much to bear and he fell back into the bloody water.

Light, still. More light was spilling in from behind. He spun about in the water and looked up to his eye sockets. The light from the back of his skull was hitting his eye sockets. It burned.

He saw Infante, not shirtless yet like in the future vision. He was still in his bulletproof vest, bound at hands and feet. A naked man sat beside him, big broken wings swept back. A serpent grew out from above the man’s buttocks and curled around, going closer to the cop as he struggled.

It bit his thigh and started pumping venom into his body. He screamed.

The naked man was that angel from the bridge. Goat bleats and laughs surrounded him. Bricks surrounded them. A building like a flaming tombstone in a concrete cemetery - a neighborhood of Tukwila that should have been nothing but business, bearing one sad reminder of a residential past. Park spun in place. The sun was in the east.

He woke to see Iphigenia leaning against a rocky grass hill, his backpack under her head as a pillow. He felt cardboard beneath his hands, his arms. That had been his bed. The world was a vivid dark blue, but was that after dusk or before dawn?

“Iphigenia!”

She stirred and wrinkled her nose at him. “I never told you that.”

“It’s the light. I hate it… But it showed me I was wrong. You’re not going to find Infante. I am.”

“What light? I can’t see anything here, and more importantly, that fuckin’ minotaur can’t either. It’s still alive, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter. What time is it?”

She took out her cell phone. She’d put it on super power saver mode a few days ago and it was still working. “Nine fifty.”

“Whuh? Oh. Good. At dawn the serpent will bite him. We have time.”

“The light. I heard someone else say they had it. She didn’t seem to think the future could be changed… Well, aside from one thing.”

“I need to go. Need to...”

“Fine, I’ll help you. But there’s plenty of time before dawn, so we should get a bite to eat and new bikes.” She helped pull him to his feet.

Where there arms gripped each other’s, he felt something strange. Maybe the light was still with him. She felt powerful, like she was skinny but covered in reedy steel-hard muscles. For that her weight wasn’t much of a balance, and she had to go back on her heels to get him off the ground. But he knew that she was powerful in a way he was not. Where she touched him, he was soft and yielding under her touch. Where he touched her, she was as firm as a metal pole. He wasn’t a weak man, but he knew her strength was profound. It meant something.

But she let him go. He nearly swooned, and forgot about the moment. It was going to be an effort just to keep walking. Maybe the food would help but he felt nauseous.

He had to keep going.

They walked around the edge of the building. Park forced himself to not lean against it. Move like you’re well, maybe you can fake it ‘til you make it. Iphigenia moved past him with shorter but faster strides. He hustled as fast as he could go without blacking out or vomiting. It was a struggle.

Bright lights. They were in an abandoned grocery store. A lot had been looted, but far from everything. More people wanted to evacuate than hole up. Park slumped into a chair at the deli area.

“You jus’... get whatever. I’ll see you when you get back.”

She was already out of sight, but then quickly returned with some food, drinks, and medicine. Or had she been slow and he just passed out for it?

“Cheese? I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Me too. That’s why this bottle.” A lactase pill.

“Those don’t work for me either.”

“You need protein and fat. I wouldn’t trust much of the meat here. Might still be some jerky hiding somewhere, but all the spots I saw got robbed.”

“Protein bars?”

“All gone.”

“Shit.”

He tried to get some energy back with what he could, and took whatever pills she put in front of him. Best not to think about it too hard.

Park considered his reluctant comrade. “You were saying something before about the light, the future. What was that?”

“Old lady in Elijah’s house. She said she saw the future.”

“What did she see?”

“I’m gonna kill all the murderers.”

“Just you?”

“I dunno. You want in?”

“I guess I do. They got my...”

“Infant. I heard you. But you don’t look like you’re ready to fight.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Saving Private Ryan.”

“Sergeant Infante.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe when he gets free he’ll be better at fighting than you are.”

“Hey, I killed a freakin’ minotaur.”

“You shot it. I told you it was still alive. Pay attention.”

He grumbled and ate quietly. All too soon, it was time to shamble on.

***

Jason apologized to Mr. Bezos and backed away. The monster was a little thing, but what could he do? It might be that demon magic was the only thing keeping him alive, forcing him to feel that pain. He’d probably bleed out if Jason freed him.

A great rumbling shook the building and he heard glass starting to splinter. He bolted for the stairs, moving as fast as he dared. Part of him remembered in an earthquake one is supposed to stand in a doorway or get under a desk. He couldn’t make himself do either of those things. Well, maybe if the building collapsed, it would happen to do it while he was passing through a doorway. You never know.

At the bottom floor he looked back to the atrium with the high windows. They were filled with pink light. Turning back to the door and hustling out that way, he saw the light again. It was everywhere.

The ground was coming apart, raising in tiers, like Beacon Hill was trying to remake itself into a Q*bert level. The festive glow of hell slipped through the cracks in the ground, creating curtains of light.

Jason made like Q*bert and started leaping between the blocks of earth. At the outer limits, just past the parking lot, he broke into a sprint. At last, several blocks away, lungs bursting with the exertion, he let himself look back, tripped, and collapsed.

The shaking had stopped, and the fancy old building was now taller. Had it changed? It seemed more like a fantastic brass castle - like that Disney logo redesigned for the demonic set. One change was more clear - the ground below it had raised like a pedestal of black stone, hundreds of feet above the rest of the hill.

He let himself just lay there in the street, trying to recover from the damage the little action scene had dealt him. If something came for him then, would he even fight it?

At last, he dragged himself to his feet, only slightly out of breath. His throat felt bloody raw from the exertion. But he had recovered enough to move - and just in time. He saw headlights coming down the road.

He wanted to believe it was the missing cops, but hid in the tree line just the same. As the cars passed by, he saw that it was three convertibles - wait, no, three cars with the roofs ripped off. They were being driven by a bunch of freaks that looked part goat, part man. Maybe the vandalism was just to accommodate the polearms they held up in the air. They bleated and laughed. Apparently, life was good for goat boys.

Jason started hiking back toward his mother’s house. It was going to be a long trip.

***

It was a night of great movements. Seven points throughout Seattle thrust into the sky as great citadels, forming a very irregular constellation of pink light. Where there had already been great structures - as on Beacon Hill - they became crowns for greater structures. Where there had been none - as in the Denny Regrade - there was instead a castle of earth and asphalt, brutal and foreboding.

And as the earth moved, those who had remained in the region during the evacuation were forced from their complacence. Many had sworn an oath they could barely comprehend to this new Kingdom, but now they felt the full measure of its power - and wanted out.

They gathered in caravans and on foot - even on bicycles - by whatever means they had to hand. They rolled along barren concrete strips, north or south - whichever way had them moving away from Seattle. All the while they couldn’t forget the other movement that was sure to come.

For while some sparse demonic forces had stayed behind to recruit mortal subjects, that first wave that had set out with the orchestra was much larger - and they would surely be returning at some point.

Monsters moved as well. The miasma of the changing world had them shimmying, lurking, screaming, wallowing in the night. Some were born of the creatures unnatural to the land - imported flora and fauna from cattle to birds to blackberry bushes. Some crawled directly out of hell where the land broke.

The Queen’s realm was taking shape. She had to admit, it made her a little horny. Humans were her sexual ideal, succumbing to their allure part of the reason she was cast out of Heaven. In the warm haze of her reawakening desire, she thought of them - and it altered her shape.

She was a broken angel like the rest - her body a savage blend of the features of human, lioness, and cow - eternally dripping with the blood of her wounds. Her four great eagle wings had long ago been torn to stumps bearing feather scraps. Her four heads all sprang impossibly from the same neck, overlapping in space, making her quite eerie to behold - a woman, a cow, an eagle, a lioness. Where once a proper halo had made her impossible for mortals to look upon with its brilliance, now pinkish flames licked through her hair and feathers, snaking as tendrils around her massive silver crown.

But that lust for human flesh pulsed from her fiery heart, crept down her limbs, subsumed feather and fur under voluptuous white skin. She stretched on the stone floor of her throne room, recently upthrust high above the north end of Capitol Hill. Pigeons flapped about, psychically driven by her aura to a mad orgy of their own, cooing and chasing each other about the floor.

Bymaan was splayed out on the ground like a cat. No way to dignify her fresh human visage. But she luxuriated in the sensation of the coarse stones on her bare skin, rolled in place and giggled. Red hair fell over her face. The giggles turned into peals of maniacal laughter, then subsided again into moans. She rubbed herself up and down before finally reaching her labia with plump elegant fingers. She gripped the thick red hair there and slipped one finger between the lips, cooing to herself.

“Damn, it’s good to have a human pussy again. You ever try that, Abalaam?”

“I have felt them from the inside, Your Majesty. Quite pleasant.”

“How about it, then? I don’t have the time to properly seduce a mortal man at the moment.”

The pigeons had mostly sorted themselves into pairings, some male and female, many homosexual as well. They shuffled about the floor like amorous feather dusters, trilling and cooing.

Abalaam stepped among them, still in his broken angelic form, a towering beast. The little birds bounced off his hooves, oblivious. The great eye-covered wheel in his back spun in agitation at this arousal, unable to complete a circle for its broken shape, whacking up and down in place. Eyes bled in anger.

He hated his Queen as much as his brother Bybaal did, but her power was impressive. Her lust compelled him, reminded him of his own ancient lust for the human form. But he saw an opportunity to annoy her and took it.

“Mm, you are most comely to behold, my Queen. Yet you may have difficulty drawing out the love of a man.”

“No! Why would you say this? Even in their fear of me, they may find something arousing.”

“You have changed your form to one arousing indeed.” He underscored the point with a slight shift of his hips. “But you did not have a human at hand to judge scale. By my reckoning, you are twice the height and eightfold the weight they expect of their women.”

“No!” Her word send a blast of sound through the room, causing all the pigeons to roll and bounce away in confusion. She folded up her huge legs, draped her arms over her knees, and pouted. “Most vexatious.”

***

Infante lay on his side, felt like he was dying. The angel had stripped naked for some reason, lay down beside him. It had the form of a sexy man, muscular but not dehydrated like those lubricated beef jerky sticks on fitness magazines. Did the thing know he was gay? Was it taunting him? It didn’t arouse him in the slightest, given the circumstances - the smell of blood, stifling dust, sweat. The mortal terror, the monstrous details attached to the beautiful being.

But it smiled at him and made him wonder how far inside his mind it could reach. It said, “This is an exciting time, Jamie. Nobody knows what’s going to happen.”

“Somebody knows.”

“The oracles and sibyls, but who can hear them? At any rate, I don’t know what’s going to happen. You don’t know what’s going to happen. Isn’t that interesting?”

“No.”

“This edifice is infused with dark energies. Occultists convened here over a century ago. I can smell it. I can see it, in the violet flames that dance across its crown.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Magic is possibility. Things can happen within these walls that nobody can anticipate… Well, I guess the poetry of it is lost on you.”

“Oh yeah, you can shove your poetry up your dickhole.”

“You should open your mind. You could be so much more important to us than our other subjects. These empty-headed murderers, or those cowards with her mark, hiding in these stone warrens like so many rabbits.”

“Why?” He didn’t want to break, but a tear rolled down his face.

The devil smiled. “Open your mind. You’ll find out.”

***

#The Septagram

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petitalbert-blog · 7 years

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Ok but now I'm thinking about it, I do want to tackle the question "what is objectively the most powerful form of magic". (Remember my number 1 answer is "whatever you believe in and commit to". This is an answer from a different angle, a "but what if we could compare?" angle. I'm not convinced at all that comparisons are actually useful or accurate. But let's imagine an answer, as if there was one - what would that answer be?) We grow up being taught of a God who is, in some way, linked to white light as a symbolic quality of his purity and omnipotence. He is the backdrop of paganism. He can't really be ignored. I don't think he necessarily exists, and yet His believers evidently believe strongly enough to bring him into existence. He has millions of believers, and although the monotheisms are very different, they essentially evoke the same being. What I've found in my work is that the ceremonial style things, things which also end up evoking that infinite being, feel like sticking my finger in the mains. So much power. Because lots of Pagans believe in Him too! Not just Christian Witches but - lots of people who would describe themselves as New Age, lots of people who are not pagan but nevertheless believe in Crystal Healing of light healing, and certainly everyone on a ceremonial and ritual tradition path. (It's something I struggle with as someone who loves those high traditions, but am uncomfortable with monotheistic views of the world. I understand the Lesser Pentagram Banishing works, and works well, but it doesn't sit well with me what I am banishing and how. As a Pagan, it's that spiritual grot and unhallowed things which are my divine. Really, high magic was birthed from Christians who wanted to do magic which was coherent with their wider faith. There's no way around it. Paganism doesn't have a comparable concept to the ineffable indivisible light of Kether) Everyone tends to shield or banish with an image of white light. And certainly Satanists and Luciferians and workers with demons and angels, they also evoke Him if only by His absence. We have grown up watching Christian imagery used in banishments and I feel like a fair few of us would fall back on them in an emergency. Paganism doesn't tend to have easy images of good and evil, which means when we need a power representing goodness, light, safety, and incredible power, He's usually the only one around. For reconstructionist sorts, there's also the unavoidable history that we lost and continue to lose. For polytheists, we need to find coherent answers why our gods have not smited this one and his followers. There are answers. I think witchcraft is always to be associated with the shadows, to be the light's strange face. My understanding of the Landweird is, in part, based on the existence of Christianity - it's the uncanny and sublime which always will exist in the landscape, which no one can explain away, but it needs Howie too to come from the mainland expecting his God to work the same way everywhere, it needs his horror at finding the strange places of England where the wild never died. There will always be an undergroundness to what we do - our Mysteries, which must stay hidden, our trickster gods who win by subterfuge, our inability to ever fully understand the Landweird or to hold it in mind. I think a lot of our gods are canonically less powerful than Captain Omnipotent: they have limited portfolios or perspectives. They're also canonically capricious - although we can't argue that He isn't - but I think when God drops a church on his followers, they tend to think it's part of the plan. When my gods hurt me, I tend to think it's either my fault or they're being petty or im wholly incidental to their goals. I think in a straight up witch fight, we have good previous: true the God of the Christians vanquishes evil, but the forces of darkness tempt and subvert the unwary. We are not without power in that scenario. I think my understanding of the divine is objectively correct, shifting principalities of local spirits and minor gods with some power but no omnipotence and not much interest in man. Despite that, my understanding of chaos magic is - even if He doesn't exist, and I really think he doesn't, His believer's collective belief in His almighty power is a force to be reckoned with. I think certainly, objectively the most powerful magic force must be divine magic - magic enlisting the aid of a deity - but I am less certain of our ability to call on some of the huge, great Weird and be heard and indulged. Some of our figures like Horus and Nuit and Ishtar and Odin, I have no doubt at all of their power. And the stranger more ancient things like Cronos and Uranus, if we could somehow communicate with them. Wordless, ancient things, gods of the firelight and hunt. And yet I feel more wary of invoking them in a fight, the way a Christian would have no hesitation whatsoever to blast me with holy light and fire. I have a perception that we ARE weak, and perhaps that perception goes some way to disabling us further. Still, we are a hidden religion; when we show our faces, we burn. I don't believe that to be literally true in England, at least, but on a spiritual level i guess I actually don't want my gods to go up against St Michael. The power of the Land is slow, and it has a Land's priorities - whatever they are. St Michael is an indiscriminate flamethrower, vanquishing any nonconformity, anything it does not understand. I feel our power is in watching and waiting, like roots of trees which slowly take up the tarmac, like the ants and insects which will outlive us all. So that's my considered answer. I don't believe He exists, but if you asked me to gird myself for battle with another religious tradition that's the one which would worry me most. I think anyone who has seen the believers circling at Mecca, or been present at an evangelical mega-church "prayerquake anointing", should recognise how powerful that sort of thing IS. Certainly when the Trump hex was a thing and they started reporting that there were prayer grids to protect him, as well as being the funniest news story in weeks, it definitely made me think - well, bollocks. I don't want to spiritually wade proudly forward into a firewall of Christian might. That ends badly! I don't believe in the literal truth of any monotheistic tradition, but I think godforms representing concepts like Light and Goodness and Retribution likely exist, and that the combined belief of believers in the monotheisms make these forces hell to contend with. I believe in our power, and that much of that comes from cleverness and patience - not from spiritual riot cannons. I believe it comes from our celebration of the land and seasons, or devotions to our gods, or service to our spirits, and so forth - and this is a slow process, and I believe we endure, thst there's something in the Landscape thst no one can overcome. It's not something you can win instantly by accepting the forgiveness of Jesus, and it's also not access to a limitless supply of white light you can blast people with. So yeah. That's my answer. I don't believe the white light is real, or rather, I don't believe the religions that believe in it are wholly correct. But you're a fool to go up against it directly without a very clever plan. And if your goal is to be The Most Powerful, it's a solid choice (cf also the Pope, the various Catholic leaders who ought to be jailed but won't be, culty Christian sect leaders, generations of presidents, He tends to get His followers into positions of real yet unaccountable world political power, it's a good route to power on the material plane never mind the spiritual.) (I'm open to discussion, but take this in the spirit in which it was written: I'm musing on ideas based on my perception and exploring thoughts and playing, rather than definitively laying down a spiritual hierarchy or making declarative statements about how powerful this or that is. I'm not willing to discuss this with anyone who is pissed or eager to get into circlejerks of rage, but I am interested in other angles if you have them. Imagining there was an answer to this question, I think it's naive to assume that not just your Pagan tradition but anyone's can meaningfully take on the old man in the sky)

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