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Jun. 11th, 2012 11:10 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Sweet tooth, soft heart
Pairing: Gabriel gen
Rating: pg-13
Any warnings: some disturbing imagery
Written byfleshflutter for sa_kun!
Once upon a time there was a witch.
She lived in the darkest part of the forest, where the paths were overgrown and the birds shrieked instead of sang, in a house made of candy.
The door was a slab of marbled chocolate, the walls were frosted gingerbread, and the windows were the stickiest, sweetest panes of sugar. In her garden grew long-stemmed lollipops and fondant-roses. Every day, she would watch from the window at the top of the house, waiting for a child to come.
And one day, a child did come.
He was a little boy, and delighted wonder lit up his big blue eyes when he saw the witch's house. He crept closer, mouthing babyishly at his fingers, as he approached the tree by the path that led to the witch's door. The witch smacked her lips as the little boy reached up into the branches, and plucked a sprig that was laden with chocolate-chip berries.
The little boy put a single chocolate chip in his mouth, and, in a flash, the witch was at his side. Cackling, she seized his shoulder and cried, "It’s into the cooking pot for you, my sweetling!"
"Word of advice? I wouldn't. He's been licking frogs all morning. His friends dared him."
The witch stared at the stranger. The stranger looked back at her, and continued contentedly chewing on a piece of gingerbread snapped from the witch's veranda.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Mind if I try one of your muffins? They look delicious." The stranger didn't wait for an answer before he scooped a blueberry one from the basket hanging by the witch's door. He beamed at her, displaying half-masticated muffin, while he tugged a few raspberry-licorice vines from the trellis and stuffed those in his mouth too.
"Stop eating my house," the witch said finally.
The stranger blinked at her. His cheeks were two fat rounds full of pilfered caramel-pebbles. He made a garbled noise, which was probably, "Really?"
"I need it to tempt the children closer." The witch flexed her grip on the little boy's shoulder.
With an effort, the stranger gulped down his massive mouthful. The candy was a visible bulge in his throat before it passed. "So you can eat them?" He grimaced. "You have terrible taste."
Then he clicked his fingers, and before the witch knew it, she was being offered the severed hand of an infant. The fingers were chalk-white and bloody-tipped, and thick strands of gore dangled sluggishly from the stump.
"One kiddy-hand, ready to go," said the stranger. "Yummy."
The witch's nose wrinkled.
The stranger grinned wickedly and the child's hand disappeared.
"Didn’t think so," he said. "Your heart isn't really in this, is it?"
"It is," the witch protested. "When I eat the children's flesh, I'll gain true power from their innocence. The demons told me so."
The stranger scoffed. He leaned in, placed his hands either side of the window-frame, and ran his tongue up the sugar-glass. The witch and the little boy in her grasp watched him, cautiously mute.
"What you need to know," said the stranger at last, "is that demons lie, Hell sucks and children don't taste as good Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough."
"I don't-" the witch began uncertainly, but the stranger made a grand gesture.
The witch's hand was suddenly empty; the little boy vanished like a candle being blown out.
At once, the stranger was all business.
"I'm a trickster," he said, "but I wasn't always, and I guess old habits die hard, because I'm going to do you one hell of a favor. Seeing as you haven't actually taken a big old bite of baby-brain yet, you're saveable. So, I'll take your soul back from the demons you've been selling it to, and you, in return, will give me this awesome, diabetic-nightmare of a house."
The trickster popped a green marzipan leaf in his mouth and munched on it while he waited for the witch's answer.
The witch looked at her house. She looked at the trickster. She thought about the tiny dead hand the trickster had offered her, how those cold fingers would feel crawling down the inside of her throat.
"Very well," she said. "I agree."
"Good choice," said the trickster, and clapped his hands together.
And then the trickster was gone. And so was the witch's house. And so was the deep dark forest.
Instead, there was a street, and a diner, and a boy riding by on his bicycle while, in the distance, skyscrapers shimmered like mirages in the sunshine.
And in her hand, the witch found she was holding a tub of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
Pairing: Gabriel gen
Rating: pg-13
Any warnings: some disturbing imagery
Written by
fleshflutter for sa_kun!Once upon a time there was a witch.
She lived in the darkest part of the forest, where the paths were overgrown and the birds shrieked instead of sang, in a house made of candy.
The door was a slab of marbled chocolate, the walls were frosted gingerbread, and the windows were the stickiest, sweetest panes of sugar. In her garden grew long-stemmed lollipops and fondant-roses. Every day, she would watch from the window at the top of the house, waiting for a child to come.
And one day, a child did come.
He was a little boy, and delighted wonder lit up his big blue eyes when he saw the witch's house. He crept closer, mouthing babyishly at his fingers, as he approached the tree by the path that led to the witch's door. The witch smacked her lips as the little boy reached up into the branches, and plucked a sprig that was laden with chocolate-chip berries.
The little boy put a single chocolate chip in his mouth, and, in a flash, the witch was at his side. Cackling, she seized his shoulder and cried, "It’s into the cooking pot for you, my sweetling!"
"Word of advice? I wouldn't. He's been licking frogs all morning. His friends dared him."
The witch stared at the stranger. The stranger looked back at her, and continued contentedly chewing on a piece of gingerbread snapped from the witch's veranda.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"Mind if I try one of your muffins? They look delicious." The stranger didn't wait for an answer before he scooped a blueberry one from the basket hanging by the witch's door. He beamed at her, displaying half-masticated muffin, while he tugged a few raspberry-licorice vines from the trellis and stuffed those in his mouth too.
"Stop eating my house," the witch said finally.
The stranger blinked at her. His cheeks were two fat rounds full of pilfered caramel-pebbles. He made a garbled noise, which was probably, "Really?"
"I need it to tempt the children closer." The witch flexed her grip on the little boy's shoulder.
With an effort, the stranger gulped down his massive mouthful. The candy was a visible bulge in his throat before it passed. "So you can eat them?" He grimaced. "You have terrible taste."
Then he clicked his fingers, and before the witch knew it, she was being offered the severed hand of an infant. The fingers were chalk-white and bloody-tipped, and thick strands of gore dangled sluggishly from the stump.
"One kiddy-hand, ready to go," said the stranger. "Yummy."
The witch's nose wrinkled.
The stranger grinned wickedly and the child's hand disappeared.
"Didn’t think so," he said. "Your heart isn't really in this, is it?"
"It is," the witch protested. "When I eat the children's flesh, I'll gain true power from their innocence. The demons told me so."
The stranger scoffed. He leaned in, placed his hands either side of the window-frame, and ran his tongue up the sugar-glass. The witch and the little boy in her grasp watched him, cautiously mute.
"What you need to know," said the stranger at last, "is that demons lie, Hell sucks and children don't taste as good Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough."
"I don't-" the witch began uncertainly, but the stranger made a grand gesture.
The witch's hand was suddenly empty; the little boy vanished like a candle being blown out.
At once, the stranger was all business.
"I'm a trickster," he said, "but I wasn't always, and I guess old habits die hard, because I'm going to do you one hell of a favor. Seeing as you haven't actually taken a big old bite of baby-brain yet, you're saveable. So, I'll take your soul back from the demons you've been selling it to, and you, in return, will give me this awesome, diabetic-nightmare of a house."
The trickster popped a green marzipan leaf in his mouth and munched on it while he waited for the witch's answer.
The witch looked at her house. She looked at the trickster. She thought about the tiny dead hand the trickster had offered her, how those cold fingers would feel crawling down the inside of her throat.
"Very well," she said. "I agree."
"Good choice," said the trickster, and clapped his hands together.
And then the trickster was gone. And so was the witch's house. And so was the deep dark forest.
Instead, there was a street, and a diner, and a boy riding by on his bicycle while, in the distance, skyscrapers shimmered like mirages in the sunshine.
And in her hand, the witch found she was holding a tub of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
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