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jukeboxhound_backup) wrote2008-08-02 10:25 pm
fic: satan drabbles
Hecate Enthroned—“In Nomine Satanas”
(Witch Hunter Robin)
Robin was meant to be the Eve that united Witches and humans. Somehow, soft-spoken and humble as she was, Robin was going to be the virgin mother of a new world order.
Eve was expelled from Eden and gave birth to Abel—and Cain.
Amon leaned against the wall in the shadows, watching the young girl pray with bowed head at the empty pulpit. He was the gargoyle standing over the church sanctuary, wondering if he would one day become Joseph the guardian or Cain the murderer.
(His mother had been a witch when they killed her.)
Velvet Acid Christ—“Satan Complex”
(Gundam Wing)
Heero and Quatre fought for peace; Wufei fought to prove something to himself, his dead clan, and the world; Trowa fought for…well, no one knew what the fuck the guy was about.
Duo fought because he was a kid with nothing else to do. He fought because death was the only God he’d ever believed in, because the war had made his smile turn cynical and his dreams full of dying children. There was no such thing as peace, just a period of time in which one side gathered up the power to challenge the status quo, and Duo was going to be the fucking devil that made the government burn.
Coheed & Cambria—“Devil in Jersey City”
(Gundam Wing) Set in Jei’s Haven ‘verse without permission. Go read it, it’s freakin’ brilliant.
“Dude, Heero, he’s still spying on us. What the hell? If he still thinks I’m trafficking drugs—“
Heero put his hands on Duo’s tense shoulders, not bothering to glance out the window to the glaring face of their neighbor. “He’s a single father with a single daughter, Duo. It’s in his nature to be paranoid of adolescent males.”
Duo huffed, shoulders relaxing under the warmth of Heero’s hands despite himself. “I wonder what he’d do if he knew his neighbor was the God of Death.”
“We never kept who we were a secret.”
“No, but we didn’t exactly broadcast it either. ‘Hey people, nice to meet you, thanks for welcoming us to your lovely little corner of heaven. By the way, we’ve killed thousands of people between the two of us alone, never mind the kind of chaos we wreaked as a fivesome, and maybe we keep an explosive or three in our closet, but hey, my partner can make a mean pasta salad’…“
Heero just sighed into Duo’s hair and gave up fighting against his lover’s unique brand of cynical amusement.
Tartini—“The Devil’s Trill”
(Good Omens)
“What the bloody Heaven is this shit?”
“I’ll have you know,” Aziraphale sniffed haughtily at Crowley, “that this is one of the most renowned and difficult pieces of music ever written for violin.”
The complicated notes sounded oddly at home in the angel’s dusty old bookshop. Crowley curiously picked up the record cover (because Aziraphale had the tendency to forget that time was supposed to pass for mortals, and so didn’t have anything newer than a century in this place) and looked it over with a raised brow.
“You sure you’re allowed to listen to this? Won’t it make you Fall or something?”
The Devil’s Trill stood out in large gothic letters on the antique cover. Aziraphale plucked it hastily from the demon’s grip and fussed about his bookshelves, which were already painfully neat and alphabetized. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s merely a name.”
“Isn’t the Name all there is?” Crowley smirked, because he was a demon and twisting people’s words was supposed to be the thing he was best at. ‘Supposed to be’ being the key phrase here; personally, Crowley thought he made a damn mean Belgian waffle instead. “Besides, the old goat sold his soul for the talent for this drudgery. It was probably Belial, the bastard’s got high taste in sin. I think I remember him bragging about it a few hundred years ago, but he also thinks being allowed to lick Lucifer’s ass is an honor.”
The glare that Aziraphale sent him was like a poodle trying to imitate a wolf, but the attempt was noted. “Kindly refrain from such profanity in my presence, dear, I have no interest in the intrigues of the Fallen Ones.”
Crowley was suddenly behind Aziraphale, crowding him against the shelf. “You weren’t complaining about my intriguesss lassst night,” he purred with a sudden serpentine lisp, but instead of the blushing and horrified stuttering that Crowley was aiming for, the angel smiled a less-than-holy smile that took him aback.
“And you were singing my praises,” Aziraphale whispered with an undertone of the divine. The demon was abruptly reminded that this was the angel that was just enough of a bastard to be likeable, and chuckled in appreciation.
Face to Face—“The Devil You Know (God Is a Man)”
(Final Fantasy VII)
Through all the black-outs and voices and feeling wrongwrongthisisallWRONG Cloud could at least be thankful that he always knew that Sephiroth was The Enemy. Sephiroth had burned the village and killed Tifa’s dad and then Zack died and Aeris did too, and for some reason everyone thought Cloud was supposed to be The Hero. So he was. But that didn’t explain why the feeling of wrongness only got worse after Cloud killed Sephiroth and watched the life fade from mako-green-blue eyes.
Lunasa—“Devils of Dublin”
(Gundam Wing) Background: Duo’s an orphan raised in the local church of a tiny Irish village, and his music playing attracts the wee folk, i.e. Heero and the others. Especially Heero. Shut up.
It was said that the boy living on the edge of the moor was a changeling, something inhuman that no good God-fearing man would tolerate. But he was a sweet lad, even if his eyes were the purple of heather and his hair long as a horse’s tail; always laughing, he was, always willing to lend a helping hand to the goodwives of the village.
It wasn’t until he got some sort of piping thing in his hand that his uncanniness came out. Didn’t matter if it was a penny-whistle or one of them bagpipes, he could play a tune that would set the devil himself reeling down the street. ‘Twas said that when he played at night, alone, on the moors, a soul could see the boy being followed by three elfin-kind and an angel.
System of a Down—“Ddevils”
(Gundam Wing)
When a group of fifteen-year-old boys were given fifty-foot-high death machines and told to slaughter the opposing army for peace/revenge/honor/just because, it was guaranteed that there would be some personality defects. Even so, even Heero felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck when Duo’s laughter would filter across the radio in the middle of battle and he’d have to wonder if it was a human or something else entirely piloting the demonic Gundam.
Thievery Corporation—“Chase the Devil”
(Book of Tobit)
Angels spoiled everything. Seven dead men and counting before that pussy Rafael showed up and burned some animal organs to drive Asmodeus out of the poor traumatized bride. Now the demon was forced to watch from the shadows as the latest groom fumbled awkwardly to figure out where his virgin man-parts went into his equally virginal wife.
He sighed and sauntered through the tent wall into the night air, flicking his serpent’s tail irritably. The poor woman would never know what she was missing since the sex-loving demon had been forced from her lovely little body…and now he was left horny. No pun intended.
He would later blame the unsatisfied state of his black little heart for following the taste of divinity he caught on the astral plane, wafting like a jasmine-scented breeze through the air. Maybe not jasmine so much as the sweetness of herbal poultice and freshly ground ink, stirring some long-forgotten memory in the back of his head. Leaving the human encampment and strolling towards the river (it wasn’t like he was in any hurry, he had all the time in the world and then eternity to look forward to), Asmodeus nearly stumbled over the damn angel.
The angel radiated the same holy glow that all angels did, that Asmodeus himself had never had the chance to possess (being the son of a sinful union and all that, but his claims of discrimination in the workplace went ignored by the higher-ups). He lacked the infuriating self-righteousness that made even Michael’s coworkers want to sock him in the face or the cool arrogance of Gabriel, and seemed a little more grounded than the space-cadet Uriel—which, judging from the strength of his divinity, meant he must be the one and only Rafael.
Naturally. Of course. Asmodeus sighed again and wished that humans had figured out what a doobie was so that he could relax.
Hello, Fallen One, Rafael intoned somberly, standing up and facing him. It was kind of nice not to see a flaming sword or dagger or a fucking shoehorn.
“Yo,” replied Asmodeus. He ran an eye up and down the angel’s slender form with a raised brow. For not having a physical body (he still thought the angelic orders had gotten the shorter end of the deal with that one), this was a damn fine specimen of holier-than-thou-ness. “Wanna fuck?”
He had the rare honor of rendering the Angel of Healing and Wisdom entirely speechless for the first time since Creation. (Well, metaphysically speechless, because angels tended to stay on their fucking high-horse and communicate ethereally instead of using plain old speech.)
I…no.
Well, it was worth a try. “Bummer. I wouldn’t mind worshipping your temple of a body for a few eons.”
Despite having no blood, Rafael managed to blush furiously.
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(Anonymous) 2010-02-03 05:23 am (UTC)(link)It's a Supernatural/ Good Omens crossover and it's really funny.
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