#sirserpentine

//funnybunny and cunty bubble

Vaggie gave him a slanted smile and a little wave with one hand in greeting. In her other arm she was holding one of his lil eggs in a cradle while the rest jumped and hooted at their leader's return.

"Your eggs good Sir." She half joked as she put the little guy down, ushering over his tiny grunts back to their fearless General's side. "Alright guys, go on, shoo. And no more snacks from the kitchen! Tch."

prompt from @sirserpentine 🐍

cont. from here

The bathroom tap gushed at full force.

How much time had passed, Angel had no idea. He had spat into the sink, eager to rid himself of the tang of blood mixed with that sweet, noxious venom, but his spit was clear and untained, and the taste remained no matter how vigorously he rinsed his mouth. He tried again, a third time, a fourth... but the cool ceramic of the sink stayed pristine white, no poison expelled, like heaving on an empty stomach. The flavour had trickled from his memory into his mouth like ink bleeding through sheets of paper, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He had collapsed to the floor some time after accepting his helplessness in the situation. This was happening more and more often now, too often. Sometimes, it felt so real he could swear it was happening right there and then, like a healed wound being violently ripped open, only to be told it was nothing but a scar.

He left the tap running in the hopes that it might drown out some of the noise. That cloying drawl that masked sandpaper grit, the voice that goaded and bellowed and barked. That whispered soft praises and sweet nothings until Angel had to hold back tears. He wasn't sure if he was crying or if the sound was just another memory.

And he could feel it. The soft and the vicious, all melded into a swirling abyss, malignant and nauseating and utterly intolerable. Angel drew his legs up to his chest, squeezing them with both sets of arms with vice-like intensity. The pressure, the sound of the tap, the cool tile floor and the bright white lights... it was all background noise. It all faded to nothing as Angel was pulled helplessly under the current of his own past.

He hadn't even noticed someone entering the room until they were stood directly in front of him, dark and looming as the light was obscured behind them. As if in slow motion, the silhoutte seemed to grow, shadows contorting into impossible shapes until they formed a familiar presence, one with a razor-sharp grin and piercing, blood-red eyes.

Angel tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Instead, he scrabbled backwards with a soft gasp, the only noise his body would allow him to make as he backed into the furthest corner of the room. What the fuck was he doing here? How did he get in? Why was he-

"Pentious," he managed, the new perspective allowing him a more detailed view of the demon stood before him. A statement of acknowledgement. It wasn't Valentino.

As distant as he felt from the man stood directly in front of him, as much as the room he was in felt as two dimensional as a film set, he still had the sour self-deprication to feel embarrassed. Of course it wasn't Val. This was just a flashback. It happened all the time. How stupid was he?

The relief of the serpent's presence wore off almost instantaneously. Angel's ears were still ringing, the taste was still fresh, he could still feel everything...

"Go away," Angel muttered. It wasn't a warning, it wasn't even aggressive. It was flat, devoid of emotion. His eyes glassed over, looking past his visitor rather than at him.

//Godfather is here to visit!!!!

"Pen-Pen!"

There's a wide toothy grin on her face as she practically lights up upon seeing him. At first she starts crawling, but then she stops for a moment.

Her little legs wobble as she tries to get her balance before she starts taking little steps forward. Morgan's walk is more of a waddle, but she feels proud that she was capable of walking without falling down again.

Excited giggles could be heard from her as she rushes to him, little demon hands patting his scales as she gets to him. She then flexes her little hands, bright red eyes sparkling.

[ @sirserpentine ] (Honorable mention - @hellsdisneyprincess ) [ Lilith's Song to Charlie ]

Seraph told her to run and she ran hard. Lilith ran -

Moving as quickly as she could until her legs would allow her to go, bending at the knee before the shrine of her lost children. Her body ached, covered in her own blood as she heaved and coughed.

She needed a moment to catch her breath. Looking up at the graves she made for all eight lost children..if her message was right, she would have to add a ninth, at least in memory of Charlie. There would be a grand funeral for her once all of this was over - assuming enough people survived.

@sirserpentine ⧐

Long Boss is spending time with the big egg girl who just sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and won't play with Fitzgerald. Flora is 'bye bye' for now and Fitz can only call her when Boss helps with the phone. And the boiz are playing with dinosaurs but Fitzgerald does not want to play with dinosaurs because she would rather play with a microphone. Thus, it is no wonder that the little egg gets a new idea and finds her way into Alastor's room. She climbs into his bag and tries not to giggle to be caught too soon. She is not supposed to be there when her Red Boss is working, or about to go out for business. But he has never been mad at Fitz before. She cannot even fathom such an idea in her puny little mind. It'll be fine! UNPROMPTED ASKS.

It is annoying and repetitive business he must go out on, on Rosie's behalf, venturing out into the outer dregs of the city proper to conspire with a few of her contacts for some event or other with which she needs their commitment. None seem to be overlords - which is why Alastor finds such negotiations to be tiresome, but he will do as he is bid nonetheless, gathering the bag in question which contains a few things he has been asked to bring.

Entirely unaware of the additional stowaway, Alastor leaves the hotel with little Fitzgerald in tow, bidding only the briefest farewell to Husk and Vaggi in the front lobby before he is out and traveling in the direction of the Pentagram's furthest districts.

Static crackles slightly from the radio demon as he shifts the bag in his possession.