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rainbowfic2013-04-29 01:31 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-04-29 01:31 pm
Bittersweet 8, Old Lace 2: Sour Sweet
Author: Kat
Title: Sour Sweet
Story: The Devil Herself
Colors: Bittersweet 8 (missed opportunities), old lace 2 (By profession he was a writer and he liked the atmosphere to be flawless.) with Sara's paint-by-numbers ("That story is too ridiculous not to be true.").
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Recycle challenge), reimaging (of this), collage, glue (Although your no-nonsense attitude will likely get you through the day, you could land in trouble if you don't pay attention to the more subtle influences at play. Just make sure to keep an open mind today.), novelty beads (this gif.).
Word Count: 392
Rating: PG
Summary: What in the ineffable Name even is this.
Warnings: none.
Notes: Remix wooo. For Sara! Somewhat hilariously using her paint-by-numbers.
The trouble, Gabriel thinks, is that Lucille is honestly pretty adorable.
Well, no. The trouble is that there are rules. Gabriel likes rules. Rules make things comprehensible, orderly. There's no fear in following the rules—that's just getting things right, and he likes getting things right. There are rules, but no one seems to be following them anymore. Lucille just happens to be the most obvious manifestation of that larger problem.
Angels don't marry devils. All right, so there isn't a rule against that, but he would have thought it obvious. Angels don't marry devils, especially not this angel—but he's annoyed, not hurt, and he wants to keep it that way, so he won't think about that.
Besides, there is a more pressing matter. Angels don't marry devils, and they don't procreate, and their offspring is definitely not adorable, and she certainly is not running a lemonade stand in the lobby of Hell, because what in the ineffable Name even is that.
"It's good," Michael says, in that bright way that means he thinks he's being helpful. Gabriel resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose.
They are all meant to be in a meeting right now. Well, not Daniel. Daniel is meant to be putting the finishing touches on a pile of reports, but he's conscientious enough that those reports are probably even now sitting on Gabriel's desk, paper-clipped and paginated.
At least the devil herself has not put in an appearance. That would just be the perfect cap to this nonsense.
"Did you want a cup?" Lucille asks. She practically chirps it, actually. Gabriel can't decide if she's mocking him or not.
Well, at least she hasn't called him Gabby, and the lemonade does look pretty good. "Oh, fine. Can we all go back to work now?"
"I'm about to take my lunch break," Daniel says—mildly, but there's just the slightest hint of a rebuke.
Gabriel does not roll his eyes (and angels do not lie); he does remind his erring committee members of their duties and goes back to the conference room before he realizes that he's still holding a paper cup of lemonade.
To his faint surprise, it's.... well, heavenly. The perfect balance between sweet and tart, cool and crisp.
Well. She is an angel's daughter, after all.
Maybe one more cup won't hurt.
Title: Sour Sweet
Story: The Devil Herself
Colors: Bittersweet 8 (missed opportunities), old lace 2 (By profession he was a writer and he liked the atmosphere to be flawless.) with Sara's paint-by-numbers ("That story is too ridiculous not to be true.").
Supplies and Materials: Graffiti (Recycle challenge), reimaging (of this), collage, glue (Although your no-nonsense attitude will likely get you through the day, you could land in trouble if you don't pay attention to the more subtle influences at play. Just make sure to keep an open mind today.), novelty beads (this gif.).
Word Count: 392
Rating: PG
Summary: What in the ineffable Name even is this.
Warnings: none.
Notes: Remix wooo. For Sara! Somewhat hilariously using her paint-by-numbers.
The trouble, Gabriel thinks, is that Lucille is honestly pretty adorable.
Well, no. The trouble is that there are rules. Gabriel likes rules. Rules make things comprehensible, orderly. There's no fear in following the rules—that's just getting things right, and he likes getting things right. There are rules, but no one seems to be following them anymore. Lucille just happens to be the most obvious manifestation of that larger problem.
Angels don't marry devils. All right, so there isn't a rule against that, but he would have thought it obvious. Angels don't marry devils, especially not this angel—but he's annoyed, not hurt, and he wants to keep it that way, so he won't think about that.
Besides, there is a more pressing matter. Angels don't marry devils, and they don't procreate, and their offspring is definitely not adorable, and she certainly is not running a lemonade stand in the lobby of Hell, because what in the ineffable Name even is that.
"It's good," Michael says, in that bright way that means he thinks he's being helpful. Gabriel resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose.
They are all meant to be in a meeting right now. Well, not Daniel. Daniel is meant to be putting the finishing touches on a pile of reports, but he's conscientious enough that those reports are probably even now sitting on Gabriel's desk, paper-clipped and paginated.
At least the devil herself has not put in an appearance. That would just be the perfect cap to this nonsense.
"Did you want a cup?" Lucille asks. She practically chirps it, actually. Gabriel can't decide if she's mocking him or not.
Well, at least she hasn't called him Gabby, and the lemonade does look pretty good. "Oh, fine. Can we all go back to work now?"
"I'm about to take my lunch break," Daniel says—mildly, but there's just the slightest hint of a rebuke.
Gabriel does not roll his eyes (and angels do not lie); he does remind his erring committee members of their duties and goes back to the conference room before he realizes that he's still holding a paper cup of lemonade.
To his faint surprise, it's.... well, heavenly. The perfect balance between sweet and tart, cool and crisp.
Well. She is an angel's daughter, after all.
Maybe one more cup won't hurt.
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Actually I think it's because I have a great deal of symapthy for Gabriel in all of his stick-up-the-ass unrequired-loveness. And he was fun to write.
Thank you!
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Thank you so much!
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You're welcome! It was an absolute joy (haha) to write.
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*APPLAUDES*
*CONFETTI GODDAMNIT*
Besides, there is a more pressing matter. Angels don't marry devils, and they don't procreate, and their offspring is definitely not adorable, and she certainly is not running a lemonade stand in the lobby of Hell, because what in the ineffable Name even is that.
Is possibly one of the best sentences ever.
(I heard it in the voice of Plankton from Spongebob.)
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This may have been a bit inspired by Good Omens? Who can blame?
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I absolutely adored that original piece and this I love as well! ^^
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