Fic: Deadly Seven
Wow - we made it to Christmas! Happy holiday break everyone!
Title: Deadly Seven
Author: Bruttimabuoni
Rating: PG13 for awfully strong language
Characters: Ethan, Ripper and their Eyghon gang
A/N: seven deadly sins drabbles written for fantas_magoria episode The Dark Age, prompt 3: ‘Giles said that he used magicks 'for pleasure or gain.' Over to you.’
“Beer! We need more beer!”
“Got no money. Tesco’ll be closed anyway. Can’t be arsed to trek to the offie.”
“Fuck it. Anyone got a spell for beer?”
There is a general mumbling and fumbling with scuffed books, but the consensus is that spell books have a surprising lack of spells for alcohol.
Randal suggests half-heartedly, “Slave demon? Might work.”
The slave demon proves to be a four-foot blob of green goo, with surprisingly strong arms for the size. It (he?) glides off for fifteen minutes and returns with a crate of thirty two.
“Nice one, Ran. Fuckin‘ excellent demon.”
*
“You know…we don’t have to stop at beer. I could use some cash.”
The slave demon is summoned again. If four feet of goo can shrug, it shrugs when instructed to make them rich. And sets off into the dark night, returning many hours later with a great sack of (it turns out) gold, jewels and cash.
“This can’t be legal.”
“Bloody hell Dee, when did you get a conscience? Anyway, might be swiped from another dimension. No one’s going to come looking. We’re just another bunch of students.
“Let’s live a little. Fay ce que voudras and all that.”
*
“These demons, any good for getting high?”
“You’re an oaf, Philip. But a correct oaf, in this case.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a spell for bliss trance I’ve been wanting to try. Sounds do-able, and seriously powerful. Imagine lying back and just twitching with sublime ecstasy for hour upon hour. No effort, no mess, no bloody conversation.”
“You never really took to sex, did you Ethan?”
“Too much hassle, old thing. Not really me. You game?”
The others return from the pub to find Ethan and Philip lying on the den’s sofas, unmoving but rapturous.
“Looks worth a go, d’you reckon?”
*
“Is there really such a thing as a succubus?”
“Bet your arse. I’ve seen the diaries. Plenty of experimentation raising gorgeous girls. Big tits, no knickers. You know the drill.”
“But they’re demons. Would you really fuck a demon?”
“I believe the key, boys and girls, is that you don’t get a choice. The succubus does the taking, and you just lie back and love it. Or hate it. But it’s not your choice.”
“Can we raise one?”
“If you’re tacky enough to want one Tom, we can do it. I’d just rather be out while you all get screwed.”
*
“I always wanted to be a Watcher, you know.”
“Come off it Ripper. It’s everything you hate.”
“But think of the power.”
“We have power.”
“Pffft. Potty little demons and egotistical spells.”
“Mmmm, thought we might go a little further than that. I’ve been reading. There are demons of real power who would do a deal with us. Imagine what we could do with a demon on side.”
“What’s the catch?”
“They get a little freedom. Go a bit wild. Possess us a while.”
“You’re not serious. That’s ridiculously dangerous… But it’d be fucking excellent. Suck on that, Watchers.”
“Quite.”
*
“I’m not going to let that go. She doesn’t just turn me down.”
Diedre’s role as the only woman in the group has finally become an issue. And Randal, usually their leading man when on the prowl, has been making unfounded assumptions about her feelings.
Randal has to be restrained. Furiously ruffled, he returns to the Raising Room. “Eyghon. Hear me. Take my offering: wounded pride, bruised spirit, mortification. Take it and take me. Make me stronger.”
The demon Eyghon ignores Randal’s plight. Not so the rest of the gang. Ethan in particular has problems with his own wounded pride.
*
“That fucker. That fucking bastard.”
“Leave it, Ethan. Randal didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“Pipsqueak thinks he can run the show. Thinks Eyghon’s his special buddy, thinks he’s got powers. I’m the one that found him. Made contact, raised him. Now that little shit’s trying to take it all away.”
“He won’t manage it.”
“Not the point. The point, Thomas my sweet, is that he isn’t allowed to try. I’m going to fix his game.”
“Gonna make him sorry? I‘d like to see him tripped up for once.”
“Rather more effective than that, poppet. Going to make him dead.”
Title: Deadly Seven
Author: Bruttimabuoni
Rating: PG13 for awfully strong language
Characters: Ethan, Ripper and their Eyghon gang
A/N: seven deadly sins drabbles written for fantas_magoria episode The Dark Age, prompt 3: ‘Giles said that he used magicks 'for pleasure or gain.' Over to you.’
“Beer! We need more beer!”
“Got no money. Tesco’ll be closed anyway. Can’t be arsed to trek to the offie.”
“Fuck it. Anyone got a spell for beer?”
There is a general mumbling and fumbling with scuffed books, but the consensus is that spell books have a surprising lack of spells for alcohol.
Randal suggests half-heartedly, “Slave demon? Might work.”
The slave demon proves to be a four-foot blob of green goo, with surprisingly strong arms for the size. It (he?) glides off for fifteen minutes and returns with a crate of thirty two.
“Nice one, Ran. Fuckin‘ excellent demon.”
*
“You know…we don’t have to stop at beer. I could use some cash.”
The slave demon is summoned again. If four feet of goo can shrug, it shrugs when instructed to make them rich. And sets off into the dark night, returning many hours later with a great sack of (it turns out) gold, jewels and cash.
“This can’t be legal.”
“Bloody hell Dee, when did you get a conscience? Anyway, might be swiped from another dimension. No one’s going to come looking. We’re just another bunch of students.
“Let’s live a little. Fay ce que voudras and all that.”
*
“These demons, any good for getting high?”
“You’re an oaf, Philip. But a correct oaf, in this case.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s a spell for bliss trance I’ve been wanting to try. Sounds do-able, and seriously powerful. Imagine lying back and just twitching with sublime ecstasy for hour upon hour. No effort, no mess, no bloody conversation.”
“You never really took to sex, did you Ethan?”
“Too much hassle, old thing. Not really me. You game?”
The others return from the pub to find Ethan and Philip lying on the den’s sofas, unmoving but rapturous.
“Looks worth a go, d’you reckon?”
*
“Is there really such a thing as a succubus?”
“Bet your arse. I’ve seen the diaries. Plenty of experimentation raising gorgeous girls. Big tits, no knickers. You know the drill.”
“But they’re demons. Would you really fuck a demon?”
“I believe the key, boys and girls, is that you don’t get a choice. The succubus does the taking, and you just lie back and love it. Or hate it. But it’s not your choice.”
“Can we raise one?”
“If you’re tacky enough to want one Tom, we can do it. I’d just rather be out while you all get screwed.”
*
“I always wanted to be a Watcher, you know.”
“Come off it Ripper. It’s everything you hate.”
“But think of the power.”
“We have power.”
“Pffft. Potty little demons and egotistical spells.”
“Mmmm, thought we might go a little further than that. I’ve been reading. There are demons of real power who would do a deal with us. Imagine what we could do with a demon on side.”
“What’s the catch?”
“They get a little freedom. Go a bit wild. Possess us a while.”
“You’re not serious. That’s ridiculously dangerous… But it’d be fucking excellent. Suck on that, Watchers.”
“Quite.”
*
“I’m not going to let that go. She doesn’t just turn me down.”
Diedre’s role as the only woman in the group has finally become an issue. And Randal, usually their leading man when on the prowl, has been making unfounded assumptions about her feelings.
Randal has to be restrained. Furiously ruffled, he returns to the Raising Room. “Eyghon. Hear me. Take my offering: wounded pride, bruised spirit, mortification. Take it and take me. Make me stronger.”
The demon Eyghon ignores Randal’s plight. Not so the rest of the gang. Ethan in particular has problems with his own wounded pride.
*
“That fucker. That fucking bastard.”
“Leave it, Ethan. Randal didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“Pipsqueak thinks he can run the show. Thinks Eyghon’s his special buddy, thinks he’s got powers. I’m the one that found him. Made contact, raised him. Now that little shit’s trying to take it all away.”
“He won’t manage it.”
“Not the point. The point, Thomas my sweet, is that he isn’t allowed to try. I’m going to fix his game.”
“Gonna make him sorry? I‘d like to see him tripped up for once.”
“Rather more effective than that, poppet. Going to make him dead.”