#there's something to be said about daniel stepping up during some truly screwed-up moments in his life

[firstgreen]

daniel larusso being there for others + saving lives

#cobra kai #the karate kid #daniel larusso #*you didn't connect shit meme* ye ok I know but LOOK... #there's something to be said about daniel stepping up during some truly screwed-up moments in his life #because if he doesn't - there's that sickening possibility of having to witness someone/a friend die #and it's upsetting because this happens Numerous times - most of which aside from the hurricane are prob calculated and planned attacks #a death match! a fall down a cliff! attempted murder! #one wrong move on his end and its a nightmare come true #likeeeeee daniel. #that's a lot! #therapy session scene in s4 -- i would like to see it #* #stuff

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee angst #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee fic #gwilym lee imagine #multichapter #fluff #angst #vee writes #*mine

[vcsecretgifts]

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

#2020 VC Secret Santa #VC #Vampire Chronicles #submission #plopofcolour #auburnandamberangel

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Proverbs 10:7

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

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

A/N: You'd think an archangel would know better than making deals with the literal Prince of Hell, but nah, not this one.

***

“Dagon.”

“My Lord.”

“Are all available demons out looking for the Archangel?”

“They are.”

“... You’re still here.”

“You required my presence.”

“Did I?” Beelzebub buzzed, frowning at the flames dancing at their fingertips. A few flies flew into it, and came out burning; the flames then were extinguished, and they kept flying as though nothing had happened. They didn’t notice Dagon frowning. 

“If you’ll forgive my insolence--”

“I don’t forgive and you’re always insolent anyway,” Beelzebub closed their hands in a fist, and the fire was gone. They leaned back on their seat, glancing over at Dagon. “Speak.”

“You seem distracted, Lord Beelzebub.”

Of course, Beelzebub could deny that; claim they were not distracted at all, and Dagon would immediately accept that Blind obedience. Absolute loyalty. The demand they rebelled against a long, long time ago, now upheld once again. Hypocritical, perhaps, but Beelzebub found they didn’t mind it when they were the one who could not be questioned. But they did not deny it. 

“Do you remember anything from before the Fall?” they asked.

Dagon blinked in surprise, but hardly paused before replying. “I remember the Fall. We all do.”

“But before that?”

“... Hardly anything. I remember the battle.” A pause, and Dagon’s hand reached up to her head. There it was for her, too, the pain whenever an attempt was made to bring up the past. Beelzebub wondered, for the first time, if angels got that as well whenever they tried to remember. “You got  in the way,” Dagon said slowly. “When Michael came to strike me down.”

Beelzebub vaguely remembered that, too, though they weren’t entirely sure they had truly meant to shield Dagon from the assault or to attack Michael the moment they’d seen her. Either way, it had been useless; Michael was a force to be reckoned with. Beelzebub had waited so long for a rematch, now that they were stronger, but even that had been denied to them.

“She struck down both of us,” Beelzebub muttered, the ache in their head spiking a moment. They ignored it and frowned, trying to recall more. They had been among the last to be cast out, the last bit of resistance before the Fall. But towards the start of the rebellion, in the heat of the battle, there had been a spear raised above them, like Michael’s sword later… yet it hadn’t come down. And Beelzebub… hadn’t moved, either.

“Gabriel, what are you waiting for? Strike them down!”

“Ba’al! Strike now!”

“Ugh--!” Beelzebub let out a groan, the pain in their head spiking into something nearly unbearable and oh, did they know something of unbearable torments. They shook their head, giving up on trying to remember, and the pain faded. They looked up to see Dagon still standing there, a pained grimace on her own face, and scoffed.

“... Enough reminiscing. Go, and don’t be back until the Archangel is found,” they snapped, like it had been Dagon to bring up a distant past. She obeyed, unquestioning, unflinching, leaving them alone. 

The Prince of Hell watched her leave and leaned back on their throne, silent, in wait.

***

“Here we are. They got sales going on, too. Lucky you, when I came in to get my stuff it cost an arm and a leg.”

Gabriel, who had absolutely no clue as to the monetary value of human appendages and still didn’t know precisely how much the money in his wallet was worth, let alone what he could buy with it, just nodded.

“Right,” he muttered, and made a point to look carefully, right and then left, before they crossed the street to the store. One car to the face had been enough to last him the entirety of a mortal lifetime, thank you. 

“You go in and have a look,” Daniel said, tilting his head towards the store. “A good sleeping bag is a must. Say it’s for camping.”

“Right.” Gabriel hesitated, not entirely sure what he was supposed to look for. What made a sleeping bag good or not? He could use some advice there. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Can’t go in with the fag,” Daniel replied, nodding towards the window. A tall, lanky man was rearranging the display. Gabriel frowned. 

“You shouldn’t call him that,” he pointed out. He knew little about Earth and its conventions, but even he had picked up that much. Daniel, on the other hand, gave him a slightly confused look. 

“What?”

Gabriel’s certainty wavered a moment. “Isn’t it-- derogatory?”

Another moment of silence, then Daniel laughed. “Hah! No, I didn’t-- can’t go in with the fag lit. I mean this,” he added, lifting up the cigarette and raising an eyebrow. “You’re not from around here originally, are you? I wondered, with your accent.”

Oh. “I... yes, I’m from. Abroad.”

“American?”

“... Sort of,” Gabriel muttered, and cleared his throat. “So, uh, I’ll have a look,” he added, and walked into the store. He returned a clerk’s greeting with a polite smile - the greetings were nowhere as effusive as those of his taylor back during the Regency, he mused - and walked right to the back, where the sleeping bags were on display. 

He walked up and down the aisle, staring at the prices without a clue as to how much money it actually was, and eventually walked back towards the entrance, hoping that Daniel was done with the cigarette and could at least suggest him what to pick. 

He had not finished the cigarette, and he was no longer alone on the pavement in front of the shop. Three boys were standing only a few steps away, laughing, eating chips and muttering something Gabriel couldn’t hear. 

And at first, he thought nothing of it. Then something was thrown at Daniel, bouncing off his jumper and onto the pavement; they roared with laughter, and the picture became much clearer.

It had been a long time since Gabriel had felt Righteous Anger. Even when Aziraphale had somehow screwed up the Armageddon, what he’d felt had been… yes, anger, but mixed with utter bafflement that they’d been betrayed in such a way by the Angel of the Eastern Gate and no small amount of embarrassment for never having noticed, over six millennia, that he was closely working with a demon.

He’d wanted him gone for his betrayal, he’d wanted him punished for the millennia wasted on a Plan that was not to be and for the blow to his pride-- a crime born of pride -- but it hadn’t quite been Righteous Anger, the kind that filled his chest with the power of the storm and turned his voice to into the crack of thunder. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like. 

But right now, with no power at all to speak of, he got a rather good reminder. 

“Cease at once!” 

No crack of thunder to underline his words, but there may very well have been. The clerk nearly jumped on the counter as he strode past him and outside, a client who’d wandered in nearly jumped in the arms of a mannequin displaying trekking gear, and the three boys on the pavement stumbled as though physically hit by a gust of wind.

Ah, that was… nice. Satisfying. An angel’s voice had a power to it, and that power was lost to him… but maybe not all of it. His voice rang still loud and clear, and it was time to make it heard. 

***

“Have the new entries been dealt with?”

“Yes. One bright side is that we were expecting… a lot of people to die last week. Which is to say, all of them. So we’re more than prepared for a regular influx.”

“Good.”

There was a brief silence, shuffling papers. In the end, it was Sandalphon to break the silence. 

“... Do you think he’s going to show up here, eventually?”

Uriel blinked. “Who?” she asked, and then paused at the look Sandalphon gave her. “Ah-- Gabriel,” she muttered, frowning a little. Of course he meant Gabriel, who else? She must be… taking on too much work, and let her mind wander. Never mind that angels are supposed to simply never tire. “If God will allow back, you mean? It has… never happened, that a Fallen was allowed to return.”

“But he’s not technically a Fallen,” Sandalphon replied. “As long as the other side doesn’t get him. Which… won’t happen. I think. I hope.”

Uriel sighed. “Michael said he’s safe as he can be.”

“On Earth, under the eye of the trait--” he trailed off, and paused. An unwise thing to call the angel that Hellfire couldn’t think and who seemed to have a special place in the eyes of God, that, and he corrected himself quickly enough. “... Of an angel and a demon who somehow derailed the Apocalypse.”

“Better than in Hell’s clutches, I suppose.” Uriel sighed, then spoke again. “He might return after his mortal life runs it course,” she conceded, barely daring to hope so. It would be the best outcome, she supposed, even if he would no longer be among them as an archangel. 

“Ah, right. That’s not too long. How many years do you think his mortal form may have left?”

“Well… maybe ten, twenty years?” Uriel guessed, not having precisely kept up to date with the average lifespan of humans in the specific geographic location Gabriel happened to be at the moment. Last time she had truly mixed up with anything going on on Earth it was to check doors for lamb’s blood in Egypt. Interesting times, those. Interesting lives. Short lives.

“That’s not long,” Sandalphone muttered. He sounded relieved; clearly, the thought Hell might sink its claws in Gabriel didn’t even occur to him. Uriel chose not to consider it, either. “Not long at all. Human lives are so short, he’ll be back in the blink of an eye.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“And he’ll have let go of what happened by then, surely,” Sandalphon went on. “He must understand that we didn’t truly have a choice except, well…”

“Rebel,” Uriel said quietly. “And Fall.”

The mere mention of it seeed to make him uncomfortable, and he busied himself straightening papers that needed no straightening. “Well, of course, we couldn’t do that.” A small, nervous laugh. “Rules are there for a reason. I mean, Gabriel used to say… he used to say…”

Sandalphon’s voice faded; Uriel waited for him to continue, but he didn’t and suddenly she knew why. She looked up, dread gripping her throat, to see that same dread on Sandalphone’s face.

“Uriel,” he whispered, eyes wide. “I can’t remember what Gabriel used to say.”

***

“It was impressive, how you dealt with those kids.”

“Hmm.”

“No, really. You almost scared me, with that voice you made. The wrath of Hell.”

Wrong comparison, and it made something in Gabriel’s chest clench. Beelzebub’s claims that he belonged in Hell echoed in his mind, and he had to make an effort to silence the thought. He wondered, faintly, what Beelzebub was at. Maybe they were looking for him - not a reassuring through, that the forces of Hell may be patrolling the streets for him - but maybe they had just decided he was not worth the effort, after all. Somehow, the thought stung.

“Gabriel? You all right, mate?”

“Ah-- yes. Yes, I’m all right. It’s just…  I’d prefer to think of it as the wrath of Heaven.”

“Heh, of course. The Archangel Fucking Gabriel,” Daniel chuckled, then paused. “... Press the ice over your eye another minute.”

Gabriel made a face, pressing the ice bag a little harder over his right eye. His vision was a little blurred and he couldn’t open it completely, but it was only a black eye - the pain nowhere comparable to the utter agony of torn wings, or of multiple fractures after being hit by a car. It certainly would heal soon enough. Sooner than his pride, at any rate. 

A crime born of pride, Metatron’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. 

“Oh, shut up,” Gabriel muttered. 

“What was that?”

“... Nothing.” He sighed, leaning back against the backrest of the bench. On a branch little above him a gray squirrel eyed him, likely trying to decide whether the ice pack on his face might be edible and, if so, whether it was worth the risk of trying to steal. They were awfully bold, the squirrels of St. James’ Park. “So much for the wrath of Heaven. That was pathetic.”

“It was three on one.”

“Three children.”

“Teenagers. And they gave you no time to react.”

“I used to be--” ah, but he couldn’t finish that sentence, could he? This time, Daniel wouldn’t shrug it off as the ramblings of a drunken man; he may very well decide he was crazy. “... Stronger than this.”

“Well, you’re always on time to hit the gym,” Daniel chuckled, then fell silent for a few moments. When he spoke again his voice was quiet, almost somber. “Thank you.”

Gabriel glanced at him, taken aback. “What for?”

“For trying to do something,” Daniel muttered. His voice grew weaker a moment, and he cleared his throat. “A lot of people… wouldn’t,” he added, staring at the ducks currently glaring at them for having the audacity to sit there without bringing a snack for them as well. 

Ah, Gabriel thought. That. He’d been so taken by his humiliation, he had almost forgotten why he’d gone and confronted those youths like that. He shrugged, and managed a smile. “Someone had to do something,” he said. 

Oh, if only someone hadn’t reprimanded me several times for frivolous miracles whenever I did helped too many people! What have you ever done?

… Honestly, having other people’s voices echoing in the back of his head was getting rather tiring, and Aziraphale’s voice was the worst of all, bringing back that tightness in the pit of his stomach that he had yet to properly identify as guilt. And yet, maybe… yes, maybe Aziraphale was the one he should speak to. 

He could offer no real help to anyone, but Aziraphale could, so it was about time he swallowed his pride and--

A crime born of pride.

Can you please just shut. The fuck. Up?

“All right, are you sure you don’t have a concussion or something?” Daniel was asking, waving a hand in front of Gabriel’s good eye, most annoyingly. “I can still call an ambulance.”

Gabriel shook his head and stood, reaching into his pocket. “I’m fine,” he said, and walked a few steps away, to get some privacy. “I only need to make a call.”

“Ah. Sure. I just-- that meant a lot to me, even if you got a black eye.” A pause, then he laughed a little. “Especially because you went and got a black eye on my behalf.”

Gabriel tried to smile. It came out more of a grimace. “You helped me out first,” he pointed out. And without angelic influences, he almost added, but kept it to himself. Now that he thought about it, it was rather puzzling. Daniel had showed kindness without any sort of heavenly intervention, like it was his nature. 

Gabriel had never thought much about human nature; he’d always thought of mortals as slightly more intelligent apes sort of standing there, waiting for an input from either Heaven or Hell. And there he was now, a human himself, trying to make decisions without any sort of help from either side. Maybe, he mused, he should have taken that spiel about free will more seriously.

“You’re probably the kindest hum-- person I ever met,” Gabriel added. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected - maybe an embarrassed laugh - but his expression just… soured.

“I’ve had my arsehole moments,” he muttered. For a moment he looked like he may be about to elaborate on that, but he did not. He just shrugged, and fished a cigarette out of his pocket - his attempt at offering Gabriel one earlier had ended with a violent coughing fit and some gagging - before leaning back. “I’ll have a fa-- a cigarette while you make your call.”

Gabriel nodded, and moved a few more steps towards the pond before taking the phone out of his pocket. As he called Aziraphale’s number and brought the phone to his ear, he failed to notice a fellow staring at him, standing by a nearby tree. 

Upon closer inspection, someone might have picked up something wrong about him - nothing major, but just enough small details and curious features to make it unnerving. Just enough to see he wasn’t human as much as something trying to pass as one and doing a job at it that was just barely decent, the features oddly undefined. But he didn’t look, and he did not notice a thing.

It would later occur to him that maybe, just maybe, St. James’ Park hadn’t been the best choice of location to come and rest.

***

“What the-- fuck-- there is a giant snake here! What the hell!”

“Sir, there is no need to curse--” Aziraphale began, but didn’t even get to see the customer as much as he saw a blur of movement, which was out of the door and out in the street the next moment. He blinked at the door a few moments, mug in hand - then, as it closed, he sighed.

“Crowley. Was scaring the daylights out of that poor man strictly necessary?”

A hiss, and a large snake slithered across the floor before turning back into the familiar human shape Aziraphale had come to know so well. He leaned against a bookshelf and shrugged. “You already wanted him out to close the shop.”

“I was about to come up with something. Now he’ll go to the authorities, someone will come to investigate the sighting of the Serpent of Eden in a bookshop in Soho, and I’ll have to do an awful lot of--”

“Naaaah, you won’t,” Crowley cut him off, and snapped his fingers. “There. He forgot. Now he has a sudden urge to visit the reptile house at the zoo and will head straight there.”

A sight of relief. “Oh, thank you. I mean-- that’s nice of you, but--”

“He looked awfully interested in the tomes of the Comedy.”

“... The ones with Gustave Doré illustrations?”

“Yep. First edition. I think he was rather serious about wanting to buy them.”

“Oh, in that case… well, thank you, dear,” Aziraphale conceded, smiling a little sheepishly. He was quite fond of those books, and perhaps he should move them to the back, better hidden from prying eyes. Except that the back of the shop was already full of other books he was quite fond of and unwilling to part with. The entire shop consisted almost solely of books he was fond of and unwilling to part with, really. 

A bookshop had seemed a wonderful cover for him to collect books and pretend to be a normal working citizen who paid his taxes - he actually did pay taxes - but back when he’d decided to open it, he’d failed to take into account the fact people may be inclined to purchase his books. 

“You’re welcome. I was thinking, there is this new French-style cellar with wine and cheese--”

The phone rang before he could finish, causing him to roll his eyes, the glasses off his face and in his pocket. Aziraphale gave him an apologetic look, and picked up the receiver to answer in a cheery voice. “Hello! I am afraid we’re closed, but--”

“Aziraphale? It’s me.”

“Oh. Gabriel.” The smile on Aziraphale’s lips faded, and he glanced over at Crowley, who gestured towards the receiver. Ah, right - that was their idea, wasn’t it? “We’re coming, hold the phone off your ear--”

“No, don’t. There are people there. You’d be seen.”

Oh, of course. Aziraphale sighed. “Please, don’t put down the phone. Where are you?”

“That’s… not important. Listen, there is someone I need you to help.”

“... Someone you need me to help?”

“His name is Daniel Brown. He’s homeless - lost his home, he says, and his job, and his wife died. Maybe that’s not the order it happened, but -- can you send a small miracle his way?”

Well, now that was a... surprising request coming from Gabriel, but not the unpleasant kind. Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley, who was listening to his half of the conversation with a confused frown, and nodded.

“Come back in the shop,” he finally said, holding back a remark about frivolous miracles. “And I’ll see what I can do.”

***

As he ended the call, Gabriel couldn’t help but notice that the knot in his guts had tightened quite a lot when Aziraphale accepted to help him. That didn’t precisely make him any more eager to see him in person, but if he was to get Daniel a much-needed miracle, he had to do it. 

He just needed a convincing story to tell about his black eye, because Heaven knew he had no desire to let the demon Crowley know he had been struck down by children. He, who during the War… during the War… well, he’d needed Michael and Uriel to help him out of a few sticky situations, but he’d defeated a few rebels on his own right, except… he’d frozen up at one point, hadn’t he? He couldn’t really remember clearly, but there was something--

“I didn’t freeze you as well, did I?” Beelzebub’s voice rang out suddenly, almost causing him to jump right in the water, which would probably have made waterfowl angry. He turned suddenly, opening his mouth to demand how they’d found him, but words died in his throat the next moment. Beelzebub was sitting on the backrest of the bench, and Daniel… he was just staring ahead, eyes glassy and jaw slack. 

“What-- what have you done-- release him!”

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow. “No need to worry, I simply… paused him, while we talk. I suspect you don’t wish this mortal to know the truth about-- wait. What happened to your eye?”

Don’t tell them it was kids. Don’t tell them it was kids. Don’t tell them it was kids.

“It was-- teenagers,” he blurted out, only to mentally kick himself the next moment. “I mean-- a car. Teenagers driving a car.”

An unimpressed look. “You were hit by a car? Again?”

“Uh…” Bit too late to change version now. “Yes?”

Another long look that told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was an idiot - but they didn’t realize he was lying so really, who was the idiot there, huh? Gabriel might have smirked, if not for the fact it could give away his little act. And also, angering the Prince of Hell while they could destroy the only human… acquaintance he had made so far might turn out not to be such a wise move. So, he did not and let Beelzebub speak first. 

“It seems you are determined to shorten your stay on Earth as much as possible, for all your fear to join me in Hell.”

“No, no. It was… and accident,” Gabriel protested, but Beelzebub went on as though he hadn’t even spoken. 

“You can end this charade any moment,” they said, holding out a hand. “Join me. You’ll have wings again, and power.”

For a single, terrifying moment, Gabriel was almost tempted to accept; anything to cease being so pathetically weak. But the thought of Hell still aroused too much horror in him, and he shook his head, taking a step back. “Never! I shall never--”

Splash.

Ah, right. The pond. Gabriel sighed, and sadly glanced down at his now wet shoes. An especially brave duck swam over to peck at his shoelaces. 

“Pffft--”

The sudden sound of someone trying and failing not to burst out laughing - and not the kind of Dignified Evil Chortle of the upper spheres of Hell, not to be confused with the Dignified Benign Chortle they did upstairs. More like a full-bellied laugh, and for some reason, Gabriel felt he knew how it would sound if it was allowed out - like it was something he had heard before.

But it wasn’t to be: laughter never came. When Gabriel looked up, Beelzebub was straightening up. They weren’t quite fast enough to entirely hide how their lips had curled upwards.

“Did you just--”

“Silence,” Beelzebub snapped, proving he’d just hit a nerve. Gabriel raised an eyebrow. 

“I could swear you were about to burst--” he began, but then Beelzebub raised a hand, Daniel’s glassy eyes turned white as though suddenly full of swirling fog, and Gabriel shut his mouth so abruptly his teeth clacked together. He swallowed. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t harm him.”

A roll of their eyes. “What a difference less than two days as a human make. Were we not prepared to end every human life in order to get out rematch?”

“That was… then,” Gabriel muttered, markedly uncomfortable. He didn’t quite know how to explain that every human life was… a very vague, abstract concept. This human life, however… “Don’t do… whatever you plan on doing. Please.”

Beelzebub stared at him for a few moments, their expressions unreadable, then it turned sly. They smirked. “Are you ready to offer up your soul for his life?”

“I-- what?”

“I let him go without harming him. You follow me in Hell. We can strike the deal now,” they said, and hopped down the bench, holding out a hand. Gabriel looked at it, at a loss for a few moments… then he laughed. Beelzebub didn’t look pleased with that. 

“You can’t.” He grinned, giddy with triumph, entirely forgetting his own sensible idea not to anger the Prince of Hell while they literally held Daniel’s life in their hands. “If I give up my soul to save someone, that’s sacrifice. And it gets me right back to Heaven.”

Beelzebub seethed a moment, then their fury faded into a faint smile. “Oh, that is true. I forgot. Thanks for keeping me from handing you a ticket back to Heaven,” they said. Gabriel’s smile went out like a burned-out lightbulb. 

Ah. Fuck. 

A chuckle - the Dignified Evil Chuckle, this time. “Since you’re so clever, I’ll make another proposition. I spare his life, and you let me mark you. So you can never hide from me again.”

Absolutely not, Gabriel though, and was about to say it… until he glanced at Daniel again, at the fog swirling in his eyes. A large, lumbering man, but so very frail before the Prince of Hell. His mortal life could be snuffed out with a snap of Beelzebub’s fingers, and he was the one thing that stood in the way of that happening. 

Gabriel didn’t have to save him, but then again neither did Daniel have to help him out, but he had. And honestly, chances were that Beelzebub would be able to find him wherever he hid, anyway. The mark would change nothing. His wings had been torn out; what was one more scar? 

“If I accept, you will never harm him.”

“You have my word.” A pause. “... You know I always keep my word.”

That was true, if anything; Gabriel knew from experience that Beelzebub was many things - Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies, for starters - but not one to take back their word. 

“... All right,” he heard himself saying. Beelzebub seeed surprised for only a moment before they gestured with their left hand, causing Daniel to yawn and immediately slump back asleep. Gabriel breathed out a sigh of relief, and held out his arm.

The grip around his wrist burned so hot that, for a moment, it felt cold.

***

"The memory of the righteous is a blessing, but the name of the wicked will rot." -- Proverbs 10:7

***

[Back]

[Next]

#good omens #ineffable bureaucracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #Aziraphale #crowley #winging it

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#clueless #cher horowitz #rp #rpg #active rp

[lamiaward]

I don't own OUAT.

Summary : Season 6 au. After the seperation and the queen’s ‘murder’, Regina keeps having vivid nightmares. Little does she know, it is not because of any trauma , it is because the queen is still there. Whenever Regina sleeps, the queen is awake- in full control of Regina’s body and free to do whatever she wants. Her family faces the question:  how do we destroy the evil queen... without making Regina collateral damage?

It is what she has felt since the very first moment she had truthfully told Henry 'I want to redeem myself '. But tenfold. And terrifying.

She looks at Snow, and both wants to reach out to her ( help me, help me, run) and crush her windpipe. Emma is a conflicting mess of wanting to grab her arm and smiling at the thought of breaking her. She is trembling, she doesn't know whether it is the hundreds of things she wants, or the overwhelming rush in her head ( like being intoxicated but worse) and she presses shaking hands to her head - like it will stop the flood of thoughts , of love is weakness, Snow White took Daniel, they killed mother, they took Henry they are wrong they wronged me no more happy endings- it doesn't. 

It is only when she throws her head back, her hands at her side, exactly like she used to react to her mother's magic crushing her windpipe- it is only then, that the thoughts turn from storm into drizzle, that she actually regains control on her thoughts. She deserves to die, I was finally going to be happy, I would have been happy, I would have been free - no no Snow is actual family now, I have a family and it is wonderful I do not want to hurt her, she took Daniel it is a mess of thoughts she doesn't want to think and things she should think, knows she feels.

She feels as helpless as she did faced with her mother's ambition and magic, not able to do more than clench her fists and shake pathetically. Weak. It is soft and distant, and then there is red light even though her eyes are closed, even though she should only see black.She opens her eyes and she only sees the sky at first, before she sees her. She can still hardly move, only stare with clenched jaw and hands still clenched into fists. She would've shrugged off the hand that's on her shoulder, used to push-

-there is several seconds of struggle, of thoughts like 'hurt them, or are you weak' slamming into 'I love them, every single one of those idiots' , of impulses she hates but still can't fully shake and-

The evil queen turns and she sees her own emotions reflected on her own face. Then those (hers?) eyes move down and the loathing becomes predominant. " Look what you've become" , and a low sound filled with revolt. Like she is the one- the version? the part? - who murdered, and tortured and- she is so lost in thoughts and feelings it is only Emma's quick thinking that keeps the queen from hurting her.

This is what I've been fighting against. She was it that made it so easy to attack Emma. She was it, when I wanted to rip that boy's - what have I done? She has set a monster free. She has let her out, and now the risk is so much greater. Inside her, the evil queen was another way for her to suffer and feel caught but this - this could hurt her family.

" You? Destroy me? You don't have what it takes" she hears the words. They don't really register.

Like usually, it is her mother's favourite lesson that registers. " You're weak ". Love is not weakness. Henry is strength. She has to force herself to walk towards the queen, to get any closer to what she has wanted to leave behind forever. So many forgetting curses and she still has been unfortunate enough to always remember this person.

" No matter what you do- " for some reason, it hurts.  It hurts so much, still. " you cannot destroy our darkness".

She hardly pays attention to words that could've been her thoughts, once. Gets even closer, stares at a face that's hers but not. " Deep down inside- " You have to leave. " you know the truth. You need me".

Maybe, it was the truth. Maybe, she used to need someone like this when she had been trapped into a marriage. When she was the widow, Snow's plaything, Leopold's trophy. But she has a family now. She has people that would risk their souls for her, that would go dark for her, that would die for her. The last thing she needs, is someone who threatens all that.

Regardless, she doesn't know whether she wants this- whether it is something she wants when she plunges her heart into her own chest , says " No. I don't" and pulls back. They're familiar emotions; shock/disbelief, the pain of betrayal and heartbreak.

The evil queen looks like she is going to plead, but she is already apologizing and squeezing. Her throat is tight, she is trembling again(still?) and the evil queen is dust. So easily blown away.

What have I done?

She is still just staring, not really thinking anything- nothing specific at least, just random thoughts she can't get a grip on- when Emma grabs her arm and there is the usual rush of magic. It is barely enough to make her hear the "are you okay?" and mutter " I am fine". She doesn't even look up to see that look Emma gets, the expression that tells you she knows you're lying. She just slowly pulls away.

Henry.

" We should leave. I am certain Henry is waiting for us". She almost feels like that Henry-less decade. She briefly wonders - if I had kept her alive, would only she feel a hole in her heart? - then pushes it away. "Regina?" she is so tired. She doesn't even want to talk.

" Yes?".

" That was pretty intense, huh? So if you want to talk, you can-".

"I appreciate the offer Emma, but I am fine. I just want to return to our son".

"Okay. Just- "Emma shrugs, looking vaguely uncomfortable but mostly like she is searching for words. Regina gives her a tired smile, briefly squeezes her bicep. " Thank you".

Emma nods. " Any time" she glances at the shackles at the floor, quickly vanishing them. " Let's get back to Henry".

" Yes" she walks behind Emma, past Snow- who gives her a teary-eyed smile and briefly grabs her hand to squeeze it- , vaguely aware Snow said something but not really caring at the moment. For some reason, she can't stop thinking of the expression, of how she felt the momentary pain in her own chest, of what this means for her, of-

Henry runs towards her, she automatically opens her arms and gladly accepts his hug. " Mama. ¿Te encuentras bien? "

" Estoy bien, mijo".

He pulls back a little. " ¿Estás seguro? "

" Todo va bien, mijo"

He hugs her again. No me mientas, mama. No me mientis".

" Estaré bien, mi cielo" she pulls back, somehow manages a genuine smile. She is exhausted. "  prometí"

She sees he is concerned, that he knows there is something going on. But he nods and lets it go. She knows him as well as he knows her though: he won't let it go. He will wait until he feels it is the right time, or it just needs to be said and try to get her to open up about what she is feeling. She reaches for his hand and he adjusts it, so she can easily grab it and walk back to where Emma and Snow are waiting. Emma is on his right side, Snow walks over and links her arm with Regina's.

They only let go when they get in the car. There isn't much talking, but that's good. She isn't really in the mood to talk, and even just listening to Emma's gentle teasing about Violet and Snow's talk of family dinners and Henry's fond but slightly exasperated comments is exhausting. She smiles and nods and comments on all the right moments though, and it is okay. Henry's dry wit is perfectly her own, and Emma is a likable idiot and Snow- well Snow is always that combination of exasperation and affection.

So it's all fine. Really. Fine. There is no reason it wouldn't be- that it wouldn't be wonderful.

She is still wondering why it isn't as wonderful as it should be - while at the same time telling herself she is just making things up, she is just tired, it is wonderful,  this is exactly what she wanted - when Mr Hyde shows up and of course Gold made another deal that 'screwed them all over' (Emma's words, not hers). So she doesn't really have time to think in the middle of that particular mess and when she finally gets a moment of quiet, it is time to sleep and she is so tired that she falls asleep easily for once.

she wouldn't fall asleep easily if she knew what happened during sleep. She wouldn't sleep at all. She wouldn't sleep ever again.

She has slept for perhaps three, four hours when her body sits up with odd, jerking movements. She sneers for a moment, then grimaces. Her hand squeezes, like it is holding something it wants to break desperately. And finally, her eyes open. They seem confused for a moment, then look down at herself with distaste. " Your taste in clothing truly has deteriorated" she shakes her head, slips out of bed.

A wave, and she is dressed vastly different. For a moment, there is tight leather pants, very dark magic and hair twisted into a ponytail- then she sighs and waves her hand again. " I will have to pretend to be this saccharine version of me, I suppose" she looks down at the pantsuit with distaste, then shakes her head briefly. It is hard to pin down, but suddenly she looks different. There is a slight smile, and gentle eyes- nothing like what she had looked like two seconds before that.

" Distasteful" she comments, then opens the door with a gesture. She walks downstairs, hesitates at the door of Henry's room. She lays her hand on the door, listening intently. She is about to walk away, but - I will not wake him, if I am just quiet. She only barely opens the door, enough to see him sprawled on the bed and sigh softly. Ungraceful.  She almost steps over the threshold, to do something about the way he sleep - or at the very least the books and paper strewn around the room when she manages to make herself turn around and leave. 

Outside, she looks around. She knows where the Mercedes is parked, and she knows how to drive it- she just is not sure she wants to. Even if she has all those memories, all the curse years and everything that happened afterwards, it still feels more like a dream than anything else. Besides, why would she use something like a car when she has magic?

It easily transports her to her vault, and it won't prompt any unwanted questions: her magic doesn't leave a trace, while the car parked here in the early hours of the morning definitely would. And that would be unfortunate, for if anyone told Henry or any of the pesky 'heroes', they would definitely be curious. She cannot be found out before she at the very least a well-defined plan.

Now she only has rough ideas. Things like 'ruin Regina' and 'destroy Snow' and 'make Henry strong'. And of course, solve the issue of her apparently being locked into Regina's mind, only ready to resurface when the weak failure goes to sleep. In fact, it is the first thing she does. She grabs a pile of books and sinks into the throne she has summoned.

She scans them, marks the pages that seem usable. Of course, they are in at least a dozen different languages, some of which she hasn't read in at least a decade, and several others she isn't fluent in. She has to resort to scribbling things down on paper, trying to use the context to guess words she doesn't know and skipping some sections that are just too bizarre (why would she want a horse that is half- lizard? ) . Even if she usually enjoys translating, researching and experimenting- she doesn't have the patience for this now.

She has a roll with potions and spells written down on it, which she hastily hides in one of the heart boxes after magicking it impervious. As soon as she has cleaned the vault and hidden the marks she made in the dozen of books, she transports herself back to Regina's bedroom. A wave of her hand, and she is wearing that dull and rather awful outfit again. She quickly sinks into the bed and closes her eyes.

Tomorrow night, my fun begins. ---

Henry, sprawled on a bed. The lukewarm air on her bare arms. The vault. Grimoires. Latin. Elvish. Hieroglyphs. A dragon's heart. A banshee's scream. So many ingredients written down- her own handwriting. Almost her own handwriting. Dozens of beating hearts.

Regina jerks awake, sure for a moment she will see the evil queen in the mirror- like in the vivid dream she just had. She has never been more glad to feel her heart beat so fast- it is proof it is there- and presses her hand against it. Takes a deep, shuddering breath. It takes her too long to relax, but she finally manages to convince herself that the dream doesn't mean anything. It is just her subconscious at work. Archie would have a specific term for it, something to do with trauma probably. She has had unpleasant dreams for almost as long as she can remember. This is not any different.

Or so she tells herself,  even when she should know better.

#season 6 au #hyde queen #the evil queen sometimes 'takes over'

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#rp #rpg #roleplay #active rp #kelly gale

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#kelly gale #roleplay #rp #rpg #bio rp #original rp

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#kelly gale #clueless #rp #rpg #active rp

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#kelly gale #roleplay #rp #rpg #bio rp #original rp

[chwpromoblog]

CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. sara sampaio. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was. 

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything. 

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card. 

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong. 

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party. 

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless. 

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car. 

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car. 

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told. 

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#sara sampaio #clueless #roleplay #rp #rpg #bio rp #original rp