Darkamber Dragon's Writings

Kore

2013-04-15T09:57:42Z

I descended beneath the earth
To spend my life and youth in hell
By the side of the lord of death
The barren king who was myself

My mother didn't care, I thought
That she was of her child bereaved
Bitter and lost I never saw
That wrapped in winter's shroud she grieved

"Return to me my dearest child,"
The yearning mother sadly said
I didn't heed nor care because
I was already with the dead

Only When I Laugh

2013-04-15T09:56:02Z

On my face is a mask
The mask of a smiling clown
With a smile that conveys as much happiness
As the fixed grin of rigor mortis
And as all masks are worn to hide the truth
This clown's mask hides something
That has been dead for years

See the clown laugh
(it's only a recording)
See the clown dance
(it's only spasms of death)
Laugh clown, laugh!

Oh, but the part of the clown's hard to play
And this mask so heavy to wear
I wish you could see behind it, and ask me:
"Does it hurt, my friend?"
And I'd answer:
"Only when I laugh, my dear - Only when I laugh"

Underground

2013-04-15T09:52:13Z

Drops of water hit the ground
Regular and rhythmic
Sharp sounds echoing hollowly
Like metallic heartbeats
Grinding on my nerves
Its monotony not quite broken
By my shuffling feet
As I slowly and painstakingly
Fumble forward along a path
Dimly illuminated by shadowy ghost-lights.
Sometimes I think I hear whispering
From branching entrances I pass
Soft breezes of unintelligible words.
Small, cold reptiles dart across my feet
I shudder at their touch.
I have been here for a very long time, now
And still there is no sign
Of a way out of this cave.
I wonder sometimes what I am doing here
I think I mislaid the answer
Somewhere on the path behind me
As I am still in the dark...

Lament for the Lost Souls

2013-04-15T09:43:57Z

Standing on the edge of a cliff
I saw beneath me, under the water's surface
A forest of outstretched, pleading hands
Swaying like trees touched by a
Wind that sighs and moans;
An unending chorus of
Countless voices:

alone...unloved...unwanted...
cold...so alone...
help me...

An ocean of lost souls
Slowly dying of loneliness and despair
I want so much to reach out
To bring comfort and understanding
But I don't know where to start
If I touch these hands,
Will they drag me under
--Will I drown?

"Laddie"

2010-09-18T13:12:19Z

Title: Laddie
Author: Darkamber
Rating: G
Genre: Humour, fluff
Characters: Sam, Laddie (fox!Gabriel), Dean
Spoilers: 5.08
Word Count: 717
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, no money made, no infringement intended. Characters belong to Kripke & co.
Summary: Gabriel not only wards Sam's dreams against Lucifer, he sometimes meddles with them.
AN1: Slight parody of "Lassie" and "Dennis the Menace".

***

Sam is sitting on the steps to the Winchester's house. It's a perfect summer day, nice and peaceful. His mom is singing in the kitchen as she makes pie. Dad is at work at Bobby's Garage, fixing cars.

The sun shines from a clear blue sky, making all colors seem more intense. The picket fence is white as new snow, and the grass on the lawn is emerald green. There are apple trees on the left side of the path down to the gate, and lilacs on the right side. There's a faint scent of roses coming from the flowers in the flowerbeds on each side of the steps.

He's whittling at a piece of wood, making a present for his little brother Dean, while enjoying the warm summer sunshine. He holds the wood up towards the sky; it's beginning to look like a troll with its hair standing up.

All too soon the peace is broken by the sound of loud yipping, and Sam's fox comes running at full speed around the corner of the house.

"What is it, Laddie?"

"Yip, yip, yip!"

"What, has Dean fallen into a well, again?"

"Yip, yip, yip!"

Sam jumps to his feet. "Show me the way, Laddie!" He runs after the fox, around the house.

Laddie leads the way down a path into the forest behind the house, bouncing all over the path with excitement. They end up at a well on a nearby farm. Sam can hear little Dean cursing even before he reaches the well.

Leaning over the stone fence encircling the well, he looks down and there is little Dean, thrashing around in the water.

"Dean, are you ok?"

"Yeah, just get me the hell out of here!"

Sam unties the rope from the bucket on the ground, ties a large knot, and lowers the rope into the well.

"Just do like you've done before, put the knot between your legs and hang on tightly, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah… Ok, pull!"

It's a good thing little Dean is so small and light, or Sam would have had trouble hauling him up, even though he's strong for a 10-year old. Finally Dean is high enough that Sam can grab him and lift him out of the well.

Dean stands there, his striped t-shirt and red overalls soaked through, looking pissed off.

"What is it with you and wells, Deanie? Why did you fall in this time?"

"Laddie told me there was a cherry pie down there, and when I had climbed up on the ledge to look, he pushed me!" Dean says, glaring daggers at the fox.

Laddie whines sadly and gives Sam a kicked puppy look.

"Dean, how can you be so mean to Laddie! He's always the one who comes and gets me when you've fallen down a well! Besides, he can't speak; he's a fox!"

"He speaks to me!" Dean insists, pouting.

Sam shakes his head. "You have to learn to take responsibility for you own actions, Dean, and not blame Laddie when you get into trouble."

Dean pouts even worse and crosses his arms over his chest. Sam rolls his eyes.

"I think you should apologize to Laddie, Dean," Sam says sternly. "Now."

"Sorry, "Dean mumbles.

The corners of Laddie's mouth turns up, making it look like he's smirking.

"Laddie is a good fox, isn't he!" Sam says and ruffles Laddie's fur. Laddie closes his eyes and makes small, happy sounds, leaning into Sam's hands. "When we get home, I'm going to make you your favorite treat, and you can sleep in my bed tonight."

Laddie perks up, then takes off on a too-happy-to-stand-still run around the well. When he reaches Sam, he bounces and rolls around looking so silly he makes Sam laugh. Then he's off on another round around the well. And all through the running and clowning he makes a squeeing sound, like an excited fangirl. Finally Laddie flops down in front of Sam, and rolls over, demanding a tummy rub.

"Screw you guys, I'm going home…" Dean mutters sulkily. His tennis shoes squelch as he walks along the path.

"Whooo's a good boy then?" Sam says to Laddie who's squirming on his back, mouth open in a canine grin as he's getting his tummy rubbed. "You are! Yes, you are!"

***

AN2: Inspired by this video of an ecstatically happy fox: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6CWLNumxgo

"Hello Mary Sue, Goodbye [Heart] Brain - a Parody"

2010-08-10T12:36:46Z

Title: Hello Mary Sue, Goodbye ~~Heart~~ Brain - a Parody
Author: Darkamber
Rating: PG
Genre: Humour
Characters: Gabriel, Mary Sue (Not Very Original Female Character), Crowley (from "Good Omens")
Spoilers: 5.19
Warnings: Like, totally an author self-insert. *giggle*
Word Count: 1725
Disclaimer: Canon characters belong to Kripke & co. Crowley belongs to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Summary: Gabriel meets Mary Sue. Guest appearance by Crowley.
AN: Posted to spn_gabriel
AN2: This was supposed to be a parody of sorts, poking fun at obsessive fangirls (who, me? never!). Unfortunately, my attempt at parody seems to have failed. Oh, well.

Gabriel sat on a bench in a lovely park, watching ducks and swans paddle peacefully around in a large pond. He was sipping a glass of pink bubbly (Dom Pérignon Rosé 1995) and eating chocolate covered strawberries.

He was celebrating having stood up to his major dick of a brother, and having managed to trick him into thinking he was dead. Still, there were a lot of mixed emotions about that whole thing, which he was trying to get a handle on.

Suddenly a high pitched whine broke his musings. He automatically hunched down and looked up, flashing back to the time he was drinking his way through the awesome whiskey selection in a pub in London during World War II. There he was, getting nicely drunk, and the next thing he knew, he was at the bottom of the rubble of a bombed building. That had been annoying.

He couldn't see any incoming bomb, and the sound turned into a high, shrill squeal coming from ground level. Before he had time to skip away to safety, he was violently tackled by a human female. The champagne glass flew out of his hand and he was thrown off the bench landing on the ground with an "ooph"; the human hanging on with both arms and legs, seemingly intent on breaking his ribs and spine. Good thing he wasn't easily breakable, or really needed to breathe.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodyou'realiveIknewyouweren'treallydeadIknewitIknewitIknewit!"

"What the hell?" Gabriel finally managed to entangle himself a little and push the female away from him at arm's length, though she was still holding onto his arms with a death grip.

He had been ambushed by a very unusual looking girl. She had pointy ears, and her eyes were a little too large for her face – it might have looked cute, but it just gave her a creepy look – and they're emerald green, no, sapphire blue, no, amethyst violet… Gabriel blinked and shook his head; the changing color of the girl's eyes was making him a little dizzy. She had waist-length, thick, shiny, luxurious, golden hair – was that glitter in it? – and Gabriel's fingers were twitching with the urge to touch it. The girl was slender and curvy at the same time; incredibly beautiful and attractive – too much so; it was like a fairy glamour.

"What the hell are you?" Gabriel growled.

"I'm Zéphyrine Tinuviel LeFleurette, and I'm part elf, veela, vampire and dragon!" The girl moved her hands to rub happily at Gabriel's chest. "You're sooo awesome and hot and awesome and firm!" she gushed, and she's fucking sparkling in the sunlight.

Gabriel stared at her and blinked, made speechless for a few seconds. He concentrated and focused on the girl; even with his awesome archangel mojo it was a little difficult to pierce the thick haze of magic surrounding her. Then he realized just what he was dealing with.

"No, you're not!" He snapped, annoyed, trying to remove her gropy hands, but for some reason he wasn't able to. "Your real name is Mary Sue Olson; you're a middle aged, childless, spinster librarian. You're wearing a glamour spell. And you've got your fandoms mixed up."

The girl looked at him with big, tear-filled eyes, lower lip quivering. Gabriel felt like he was the cruelest being in history who had just kicked the cutest kitten ever to exist. He softened and opened his mouth to apologize, then snapped it shut and mentally slapped himself. Damn glamour!

"Why are you so mean? I luuuve you!" the girl wibbled.

Gabriel couldn't help himself. "I'm so sorry, he said, then pulled her down and kissed her. The girl immediately put one hand into his hair, carding her fingers through it, while making happy little noises.

It took an effort of will worthy of an archangel for Gabriel to push her up and away and shake off the effect of the glamour this time. Oh, hell, this is just getting worse, isn't it. It didn't even occur to him to throw the girl off and get up.

The girl was still petting his hair, cooing: "Ooo, your hair's so soft! I knew it would be just like this!"

"Could you please stop petting me for a minute?"

"Nooo …" the girl sighed dreamily, and continued.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and sighed. He was getting really fed up with this fuckery. Where the hell could she have gotten such a powerful glamour from? Wait a sec, hell…

"Did you make a deal with a crossroads demon?"

"No! Of course not! I was granted a wish by an elf lord."

"An elf? How did you even find an elf?"

"Oh, it was wonderful! I was walking in the forest, and then I saw a white cat which I followed, and there was this white light and it felt like I was falling, and then I was standing in front of a fairy ring, and I stepped inside and wished really hard to meet my elven parents – I've always known I was a changeling, see? – and an elf lord appeared and was so happy to see me, and said he was my dad! He said he'd been forced to hide me in the mortal realm, away from his enemies, until I came of age! And then he removed the glamour that made me look human!"

Gabriel smacked his face with his hand. "Of all the stupid…" he muttered. Dealing with fairies weren't much better than dealing with demons. The fairy had obviously not removed a glamour spell, but added one. "What kind of deal did you make?"

"It was a wish, not a deal! My dad granted me a spell for two hours to help me find my True Love, and when the time is up, I'll be transported to Faerie to live with my dad for the rest of my life, and we'll be soul-bounded."

"You and you fairy dad will be soul-bonded?"

"No, silly! We will!" The girl slapped him playfully on the chest.

Gabriel gaped. "What on earth makes you think we will be 'soul-bonded'?"

"I'm your True Love and Soulmate," she cooed.

Gabriel shuddered. The way the fairy magic worked, he might end up believing just that if he didn't get rid of her soon.

"You were tricked, you know – I should know, I've spent a couple of millennia as a trickster," Gabriel said.

"What do you mean 'tricked'?" The girl frowned.

"That elf lord is not your dad; he's just taking advantage of your beliefs. You'll end up as a slave in Faerie. When they're tired of you, they'll probably kick you back to the mortal realm, where you'll find that a hundred years or so have passed and everyone you knew are dead. It's they way fairies usually deal with mortals."

The girl's now indigo eyes filled with tears, which flowed down her cheeks. She was beautiful even when she cried. Again Gabriel got the just-kicked-a-cute-kitten feeling, and felt the need to hold and cuddle and comfort the girl. It's just the glamour, it's just the glamour! he told himself.

"B-but you'll save me, right?" she sobbed. "I'm your True Love! We're going to be Soulbonded!"

"Oh, for the love of Dad!" Gabriel groaned. This Mary Sue was an obsessive loon! Still, no-one deserved slavery in Faerie just for being an obsessive loon. Not when Gabriel, Archangel and The Trickster, could give a helping hand.

"I think someone needs to wake up and smell the coffee – which in your case reeks of fairy dust… This is for your own good…"

Gabriel snapped his fingers and sent Mary Sue on a journey that would take her through all of her favorite fandoms, as herself. She'd probably die a lot, but maybe she'd learn something, while being hidden away from the white, red-eared hounds of Faerie that would come for her.

***

Gabriel had just refilled his glass with more pink bubbly, when a familiar being appeared on the bench beside him.

"Crowley? What are you doing here?"

"Isss that horrible, sssparkly girl gone?" Crowley asked, looking around nervously, peering over his sunglasses.

"Yeah. How do you know about her?"

"Somehow she found Aziraphale and me, and wouldn't leave us alone until I told her where you were, so I sent her to you. She pinched Aziraphale's cheek! And kept petting me and calling me her 'favorite demon'!" Crowley shuddered. "I'm a demon! I'm not cute and cuddly!"

"Oh, I don't know about that…" Gabriel said.

Crowled glared at him, and Gabriel cackled.

"Anyway, she kept babbling about 'the supernatural fandom' and how the "Winchester Gospels' were a TV show!" Crowley continued, manifesting a glass of brandy and sniffing at it appreciatively.

"A TV show? I know there are those books written by Chuck the Prophet, but a TV show?"

"I got the feeling she must've been from an alternate universe or something like that. She said something about following a white cat, and a flash of white light and the sensation of falling."

"Yeah... I thought it was supposed to be a white rabbit, though…" Gabriel mused.

"Anyway, apparently there's a fandom and lots of more or less obsessive fangirls who write fan fiction. You seem to have a lot of fangirls."

"Crowley, are you actually trying to cheer me up?" Gabriel said slowly. Truth be told, it was kind of a flattering happy boost to know he had lots of fansgirls. He just hoped they weren't all totally crazy.

"No! I sent her to you to get rid of her! The bloody creature was upsetting Aziraphale!" Crowley answered, a little too quickly. He sipped his drink, pretending he wasn't at all embarrassed. After a little while he spoke up again: "Did you know that there are actually fangirls writing steaming hot porn starring the two of us? Three of us even!" he said with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, reeeally?" Gabriel drawled, then leaned towards Crowley, leering at him.

Crowley leaned away from Gabriel, eyes widening a little; obviously this was not quite the reaction he expected. Then he looked at his watch and vanished his glass.

"Oh, look at the time! Got to go, important meeting!" Crowley said, trying not to look like he was panicking. Then he was gone.

"Oh, demon, you're too easy!" Gabriel shook his head, then leaned back on the bench and laughed.

"Truly Gone Fishing"

2010-07-31T13:30:10Z

Title: Truly Gone Fishing
Author: Darkamber
Rating: G
Genre: Humor
Characters/Pairing: Gabriel, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby
Spoilers: Season 5
Word Count: 1338
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Eric Kripke, & co. Don’t own the characters, no money made, no infringement intended.
Summary: The Apocalypse has been prevented, Sam is back, and Dean decides the best way to relax is to go fishing.
AN: Posted to: spn_gabriel, team_free_love, supernaturalfic

***

Dean had decided that they all needed some down time after they had prevented the Apocalypse from happening.

"Sam, remember that cabin by the lake Dad took us to?" Dean asked, sitting on the couch in Bobby’s living room.

"The one with his own personal mini boot camp? How could I possibly forget…"

It wasn’t exactly one of Sam’s happy memories: running through those obstacle courses and shooting at targets every single day for two weeks had been damn hard for a 10 year old.

"Remember how we sometimes sat on the pier fishing in the evenings? Dad used to say there was no better way to relax than fishing and drinking beer." Dean sounded wistful.

"Yeah."

That had been one of the good parts of those two weeks. Not because Sam had enjoyed fishing, but because they were doing something with Dad where he could sit down and relax. They never got any fish, though.

"I think we should go there, and bring Bobby and Castiel! It’ll be awesome!"

Sam and Dean had never had the same opinions on what was relaxing. Sam would’ve preferred to curl up with a good book, reading something that wasn’t hunt-related for once. But Dean looked so excited about the idea of going fishing with the guys that he didn’t have the heart to say no.

Dean called Castiel, who immediately popped up in front of him in Bobby’s living room.

"Dean," he said as usual, and as usual proceeded to stared intensely at him.

Sam and Bobby exchange a quick look and rolled their eyes.

"Are you in need of my help?" Castiel continued.

"No, we’re going fishing, and I want you to come with us." Dean answered.

"You need food?" Castiel asked.

"No, we need to take some time out and relax!"

"Fishing is considered relaxing?" And there was the head-tilt.

"Yeah! C’mon, you’ve gotta try it! I’m sure you could use a break from sheriffing Heaven."

Castiel looked rather skeptical, Sam thought, but he agreed to come with them. Maybe he did need a break – and an excuse to be near Dean.

***

So, there they were, standing by the pier, with fishing equipment, an ice box with beer bottles and fishing chairs.

It was a perfect summer’s day. There were only a few, puffy, white clouds in the sky. The lake was so still it reflected the trees surrounding it and the sky above like a mirror. The grass was almost the brilliant green Sam remembered from when he was a kid. It was a beautiful view. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

"That’s a narrow and short pier," Bobby said. "We can’t all fit in at the end."

"I remember it as being bigger…" Dean said.

"Easily fixed!" a new voice exclaimed beside Sam.

"Gabriel! What the hell are you doing here?" Dean did not sound pleased.

"I invited him," Sam said, and glared at Dean. If Dean could invite Castiel, then he damn well could invite Gabriel.

And Dean claimed he never bitch-faced…

Gabriel looked smug. Then he snapped his fingers, and the pier was much longer and T-shaped, making room for at least six people to sit side by side. Five fishing chairs were now standing there, as did a couple of extra ice boxes, probably filled with food and booze.

The sight of the new pier seemed to mollify Dean who said: "C’mon guys, let’s do some fishin’!"

They sat down, and everyone baited and threw their fishing lines into the lake, except Gabriel.

"Aren’t you going to fish?" Sam asked.

"Nah, fishing is boring. I have a way better method for relaxing." He snapped and a wicker basket appeared in his lap, filled with balls of yarn and a several pairs of long knitting needles.

"Dude! Knitting? Seriously? Could you be more girly?" Dean laughed.

"Word of advice, dude, don’t piss off someone with knitting needles!" Gabriel glared at Dean.

"Knitting isn’t girly," Bobby grumbled. "I knit."

Everyone looked at him.

"Shut up," he said before anyone had opened their mouth.

Everyone went back to what they were doing.

Gabriel contemplated the yarn. "I think I’ll knit you a Ravenclaw scarf for the winter, Sam."

Dean snickered, and Gabriel gave him a deadly glare.

"I’d like a new scarf, Gabriel," Sam said quickly, hoping to placate the archangel and avoid either homicidal stabbing with knitting needles or smiting of his brother.

Gabriel’s face lit up like he’d just found a cartload of his favorite chocolate.

"Book colors or movie colors?" Sam asked.

"Movie colors, definitely. I don’t think the book colors would suit you."

"Ow!" Dean yelped.

Sam looked at the guys to his right. From the look on Bobby and Dean’s faces, it seemed that Bobby had kicked or elbowed Dean to prevent him from blurting out another unfortunate comment.

To Sam’s surprise the guys managed to behave after that. It wasn’t too bad sitting there and admiring the view, drinking beer and eating some sandwiches. Gabriel was drinking champagne and eating cake; one of the iceboxes was filled with all sorts of delicious looking calorie bombs, both cakes and pies. This mellowed Dean even more, and even Sam couldn’t resist eating a piece of incredibly tasty cake with fresh blueberries and vanilla sauce on top.

***

Still, even with the guys behaving Sam was bored to tears two hours later.

"I’m sorry, Dean, fishing just isn’t my thing. I’d rather relax with a good book. I mean, we’re not even getting any fish!"

"It’s not about getting any fish, it’s about the fishing and the beer and the relaxing," Dean said, exasperated. "Doesn’t anyone know how to appreciate just sitting quietly by a lake, drinking beer and fishing?"

"I do," Bobby said.

"Aye, to the first two, nay to the third," Gabriel said. "Though personally I prefer champagne."

"Didn’t ask you!" Dean snapped.

"Then you should have specified, shouldn’t you!" Gabriel snapped back.

"Honestly, do you two always have to bicker?" Sam asked.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You’re the one who’s always startin’ it!"

"Am not!"

"How old are you two, five?"

Every time Dean and Gabriel were near each other, they started bickering, behaving like kids verbally kicking and pulling each other’s hair. Sam often wished he could’ve put them in separate time-out corners.

"Would you two idjits shut up! I’m tryin’ to get some relaxin’ done here!" Bobby growled.

They all sat in silence for another 15 minutes.

"So, what’s for dinner?" Gabriel asked.

Sam turned to Bobby and Dean: "What did you guys buy for dinner?"

"I didn’t buy anythin’. I thought we were gonna to get some fish!" Bobby said.

"Me, too," Dean said.

"Oh, for…" Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Fine! I’ll get us some fish!" He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out something that looked like a golden, cross-bearing orb. He pulled the cross out, threw the orb into the lake and said: "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin, then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less".

A huge pillar of water fountained up and splashed down on them, soaking them to the skin and pelting them with dead fish. Dean had in addition to the fish ended up with an octopus on his head. Fresh water octopus? Sam thought. The octopus hung on for dear life, eyes rolling around wildly. It looked like it was thinking: ‘OMG WTF?!’.

There was a stunned silence, which lasted for all of three seconds, broken by Gabriel bursting into raucous laughter. He was still dry and not covered in fish. He laughed so hard both he and the chair tipped backwards, throwing him into a butt-over-head roll ending up sitting upright again. Then he jumped up and ran off – for some reason doing high knee-lifts as if he was a cartoon character - laughing nearly hysterically and chased by an infuriated, swearing Dean.

"I do not find this fishing to be very relaxing," Castiel said. "I think I prefer reading."

"Surprise"

2010-05-25T19:40:35Z

Title: Surprise!
Author: Darkamber
Rating: PG
Genre: Humour/Crack
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Gabriel, Dean
Word Count: 537
Disclaimer: Canon characters belong to Kripke & co.
Summary: Sam gets an unbirthday surprise
AN1: Posted to: spn_gabriel, spn_crackfic

”Aw, maaan!” Sam complained as the easily recognizable sound of a police siren cut through the air. ”I told you you should slow down!”

Dean cursed, gritted his teeth pulled the car to a stop on the edge of the highway, as the police officer on the bike motioned them to pull over.

The cop parked his bike behind the Impala and walked up to the driver’s side of the car. Dean rolled down the window and put on his best innocent smiley face.

The cop wore sunglasses and looked about as nice and friendly as that morphing terminator guy, Sam thought.

“License and registration, please,” he said to Dean in an almost growly voice.

Dean took his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out his fake driver’s license, while Sam handed him the registration papers from the glove compartment.

The cop scrutinized the license and registration, taking his time, as if he was doing a tarot divination trying to discover if Dean had a criminal record. Sam cursed all cops for being able to make him feel guilty, even when he hadn’t done anything wrong.
The cop handed the license and papers back to Dean, and said, “If you could open the trunk, please.” Well, at least he was polite…

Dean got out of the car; he couldn’t just refuse. Sam stayed in the car, not having any reason to get out. Please don’t be too observant and notice the false bottom, he thought. He heard the trunk open, a moment of silence, long enough that he began to worry, then the sound of a very familiar voice.

“Sugar, anyone?”

Sam immediately got out and hurried to the back of the car.

Both Dean and the cop were staring into the trunk in stunned surprise.

In the trunk, on a red, satin covered duvet, Gabriel lounged casually, as if he’d been there all along and this was a normal thing for him to do.

“Well, hello there, kiddo,” Gabriel drawled when he saw Sam. Then he sucked on the lollipop he was holding, in a very suggestive way, and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam could only stare, completely mind-boggled. Not only because Gabriel had shown up in the trunk, but because the only thing he was wearing was a pink, glittery band wrapped around his dick, tied off with a neat bow.

“Surprise unbirthday, Sammy! Wanna unwrap your present?” he leered with a huge smirk.

“What the hell is this?!” the cop shouted.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Party pooper! Shoo!” He waved his hand, and the cop and his bike disappeared.

Dean finally unfroze and clapped a hand over Sam’s eyes. “Don’t look, Sam! Oh, sweet Jesus, I’ll never get rid of this image…” he whimpered.

“But, Dean!” Sam whined, struggling to remove Dean’s hand, but Dean was clinging on as if his life depended on it.

“Wanna go somewhere else and play some unbirthday games, Sammy?” Gabriel said, his tone of voice not leaving much doubt as to what games he had in mind.

“Hellyeah!” Sam said hurriedly, before Dean could clap a hand over his mouth and shut him up.

With a SNAP they were gone, leaving Dean alone with the Impala. “Sonofabitch!”

"True Love"

2010-05-16T16:46:30Z

Title: True Love
Author: Darkamber
Rating: PG-13?
Genre: Humor/Crack
Characters: Sam, Dean, Gabriel
Warning: Swearing. Crack.
Spoilers: 5.08
Disclaimer: Not mine, I own nothing…
Word count: 850
Summary: Dean has finally found his true love… Gabriel is a perv… Sam desperately wishes he was somewhere else.
AN1: My first Supernatural fic. ( Unbeta’d, so please feel free to nitpick on grammar/spelling/punctuation, whatever.)
AN2: Posted to: spn_gabriel, spn_crackfic

Sam was sitting at the dining table in the motel room, researching the monster of the week on his laptop, when Dean came rushing in looking all flustered with rosy cheeks, shining eyes and a really goofy grin.

“Sam, she said it back! She finally said it back!” he gushed, practically bouncing on his feet.

“Who said what?” Sam looked up from his laptop and peered at Dean. He’d never seen him like this, acting like a crushing fourteen year old schoolgirl. What the hell?

“The love of my life! She said she loves me, too! And she wants to get married!” Dean had a similar look to when he thought he’d met Dr. Sexy, and was close to squeeing.

“Uh, who’s the love of your life?” As far as Sam could remember, Dean had never mentioned a “love of his life”, ever.

Dean bounced forward, grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him up from his chair. “You already know her. She’s right outside, come and congratulate us!”

An impatient Dean pulled a hesitant and very skeptical Sam outside. Curiouser and curiouser, Sam thought.

Dean led Sam towards the Impala, which where parked just to the side of their room, and stopped, beaming. The girl’s in the car? Sam thought as he bent down and looked through the Impala’s windows. The car was empty.

“So, where is your, uh, girlfriend, Dean?”

“Right here!” Dean stepped close to the car and put his arms and cheek against its roof. “Hey, babe, I’m back. I’ve told Sam about us,” he said in a soft voice.

Sam turned his head sharply, frowning. He could have sworn he’d heard someone snicker behind him, but there was no-one there. He looked back at Dean, who was leaning against the Impala caressing its roof.

“Oh, very funny, Dean. As pranks go this is really lame, not to mention weird.”

“Sam! I’m not joking! I’m serious here, man! We really love each other! We’re gonna get married and I’m gonna have her babies and we’re gonna do a lot of sexin’!” Dean ground his hips against the car. “Oh, yeah, you’re so hot, babe.”

“Dean!” Sam yelped, covering his eyes. “Could you please not hump the car!”

“Oh, right, forgot how totally tight-assed you are.” Dean kissed the car’s roof, then turned to Sam. “You’re happy for us, right?” he asked anxiously.

Sam searched Dean’s face for any sign of this being a joke, but couldn’t find any. What the hell is going on here?! he thought. Did Dean piss off a witch while he went to get food?

“So,” Sam said slowly, “Does she have a name?”

“Yeah, sure! It’s Christine!”

“Dude! I’m so exorcising you, and the car!” Sam made a grab for Dean, who jumped back and scooted around to the other side of the car. “Dean! Come on! You’re in love with a fucking car! Don’t tell me that’s normal!”

“What? Don’t be stupid, Sam! Just because I’m in love doesn’t mean I’m possessed! You’re just jealous!”

Sam smacked a hand over his face and groaned.

“Now look what you’ve done! You’ve upset her! Don’t be sad, babe, you know he can be a bitch. I think someone needs some cheer-up sex!” Dean got in the car, and locked the doors.

Sam could see him talking, and stroking the dashboard. He knocked on the window, hoping that Dean would roll it down so he could try to talk to him again, but he just gave Sam the finger and kissed the steering wheel passionately.

Sam covered his eyes and turned away with another groan. This was way too twisted. Was that a moan coming from inside there? Oh, god… He stuck his fingers in his ears. He’d better hurry and call Castiel; maybe he’d know what the hell was going on with Dean.

Sam turned towards the motel room, and saw someone familiar sitting on a chair beside the door, feet up on a crate, box of candy in his hand. Neither chair nor crate had been there when Dean had dragged him outside.

“Gabriel! I should have known you were behind something as fucked up as this!”

“One of my better ideas, I think,” Gabriel said with a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Undo it, now!” Sam said angrily, hands clenching into fists.

Gabriel tossed a jelly bean into the air and caught it with his mouth. “Naaah, not just yet. I wanna watch the show! I mean, how often do you get to see literal car sex!” He turned his attention back towards the Impala. “Oh, yeah! Go, Dean!”

Sam yelped and fled inside, away from the insanity. He stuck the earplugs of his MP3 player in his ears, turned on the music and covered his head with a pillow for good measure.

Gabriel, the bastard, continued with gleeful and enthusiastic comments sent directly into Sam’s mind.

*I hate you so, so much!* Sam thought back as hard as he could.

*Now that is what I’d call an imaginative use of a gear stick!* Gabriel enthused.

Sam whimpered, while Gabriel’s raucous laughter echoed in his head.

A Matter of Style or Death - or: definitely NOT pretty in pink

2010-04-20T10:23:28Z

A little story for the occasion of Halloween

Infernal chimes drag me brutally out of my blissful sleep. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's not Hell's Bells I'm hearing, but the doorbell.

I fumble around on the bedside table for my glasses, muttering grumpily to myself - shitty, unstylish, student type glasses, I really hate them, but can't afford new ones, and I'm blind as a bat without. Praise the gods for contact lenses though; you can't look cool and gothic with glasses on, especially not these kind of glasses.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm coming!" I yell as I stumble out of bed, my feet still half tangled in the sheets.
Gods, it's freezing in here! The central heating must have conked out again; it always does in January the stupid thing. I grab my favourite, knitted jacket and throw it over my shoulders, then shuffle in my slightly too large night socks towards the door. My nose feels like an icicle, and starts running. Bugger.

The person out there is still leaning resolutely on the bell.

"Will you stop that, you moron! I'm not deaf! Who's there, anyway?!" I demand to know.

"It's me, Shade! Let me in!"

I unlock the five security locks and open the door, grumbling: "What're you doing here, it's not even 12 yet! This'd better be important!"

Shade strides into the hall - perfectly beautiful, stylish and gothic as always - how does he do it, and this early?! It's obscene...

I hear a strange, strangled sound behind me as I close the door, and turn to see Shade looking at me, gaping in astonishment. Then he cracks up laughing.

"I...don't...believe it!" he gasps. "What're you wearing! You're dressed entirely in PINK!" He laughs so hard he can't stand straight.

I can feel the corners of my mouth turning down. It's too bloody early in the morning for ridicule.

"A fluffy PINK jacket!" he chortles, "and matching PINK socks!"

I just stare at him, sourly; I fail to see the humour in the situation.

"Oh, and I love that PINK night-gown with the baby Mickey Mouse!"

Shade's getting hysterical; I am not amused...

"How adorable! It's just too CUTE to be true!" he shrieks gleefully.

Talk about overkill...thank you, Shade...kick me while I'm down...

"Wait till I tell the others at the club tonight about this!" He collapses to the floor, rolling around and howling.

That does it. If this comes out, my reputation will be well and truly fucked; nobody will ever again consider me to be the coolest goth in town.
"This is the end of a beautiful friendship," I tell Shade gravely, as I pick up the walking stick with the heaviest handle from the stand, heft it, and calmly proceed to bash his head in.

When he finally stops twitching, I grab his feet and drag him into the kitchen. The cooker is heavy, but I finally manage to pull it to the middle of the floor. Then I open the trapdoor, which was hidden underneath, and kick Shade's remains down the stairs.

Now he can lie there and rot with all the others.

Pity though, he was quite nice - but a goth's got to do, what a goth's got to.

Damn, I must remember to put that mirror up on the front door, so I don't let people in before I'm properly dressed.

After all, there aren't that many goths left in this town...

The Queen in the Tower - A Fairy tale

2010-04-20T10:19:53Z

I live at the top of a tower in an enchanted forest. I have lived here all by myself for my entire life.
Well, I'm not all by myself; I have my cat, the bats in the attic, and sometimes Percy drops by for a visit. Percy is a big dragon who lives in a cave at the top of a mountain nearby. It's not a dark and dank and dreary cave; beyond the front cave, which is really just a landing platform, there are proper rooms behind a secret door. I've been to visit him, and it's just like inside a nice house, with a fireplace and proper furniture and everything. Percy is one of those dragons who can shapeshift into a human, you see. But enough about Percy.
My rooms at the top of my tower are very nice. My favourite room is the big library, with its small fireplace and deep, comfy chairs. I also have a veranda, where I sit and read on sunny summer days. I have everything I need. Percy has been kind enough to gift me with servant spirits, so I don't have to bother with having other people in my tower.
From the outside it looks like my tower has no entrance, but it does. It's just hidden, so that I won't be bothered by all those wandering peddlers and minstrels and knights and what have you. My privacy is sacrosanct. I spend my days reading and studying, new and old books and manuscripts, and I write, too. I'm quite happy living like I do.

One fine summer day I was sitting outside on the veranda, enjoying a good book and a nice cup of tea. Then suddenly I hear someone shouting down below:
"Hail fair maiden in the tower!"
I got up and looked down, and there was a knight in shining armour, on a white horse. Oh no, not another one. It had only been 3 months since the last one came by.
"What do you want?" I called, rather grumpily.
"I have followed rumours of your fabled beauty! I have travelled long and far to rescue you from your imprisonment by the evil wizard! Fear not, fair maiden! Soon you shall be free, and I will make you my bride! Never more will you be alone! I will treasure you and slay dragons in your honour!"
Dear gods, but he was laying it on thick wasn't he! I bet it was the local villagers taking the piss out of a self-righteous, gullible knight again.
"For your information, I am a queen, I live here alone by choice, and no harming the local dragons, young man!"
"Obviously you are under an evil spell, fair maiden! But fear not, I will rescue you!" the knight called back.
I sighed. There are just no talking sense to these hero types.
"Oh, all right, then! Just wait a moment, I'll be right back!" I called down.
I went inside, fetched my magical crossbow which never misses, loaded it, went back outside and shot the knight straight through the left eye. He fell off the horse, quite dead, and the horse bolted. I summoned a servant to bring the body to Percy; he'll enjoy the snack. The sword I'll keep in my collection downstairs.
Ah, finally blessed quiet again. I sat down and picked up my book.
Drat, now the tea's gone cold. Bloody knights.

Rabbit Hole Day

2010-04-20T10:16:36Z

Went out drinking last night. When I got home around 4 am I discovered I had run out of cigs, so I went to the gas station nearby to buy some more.
On my way back I suddenly experienced this incredibly odd feeling of the world being yanked sideways and down at the same time - it was disorientating and rather nauseating - then it jerked back into place, as if it had been attached to me by a rubber band. I grabbed a nearby lamp post for support, and threw up. Still feeling a little sick and wondering what the hell had happened, I staggered back home, only to discover that my flat was gone. The name sign on the door was missing, and the key didn't fit. After a bit of head-scratching - surely I wasn't that drunk - I decided to look at every door in the building to see if I could find my name sign on a door. I turned around, and there was Mefisto the cat sitting on the stairs, looking at me.
"How did you get out? And where did my flat go?" I wondered out loud.
"Never mind that. What took you so long? They're waiting for you!" he answered.
What the hell? Either I was a hell of a lot more drunk than I had thought (or maybe someone had spiked my beer?), or I'd finally gone insane.
Mefisto got up and began walking up the stairs, then he stopped and looked back at me.
"Are you coming?"
"Uh, right, yes..." I said, and followed.
The cat led me to the roof, where three very tall and thin persons in dark robes were standing, surrounded by glowing spheres which floated in the air.
"Sooo, what's all this, then?" I asked.
"You are the chosen one," one of the persons intoned solemnly. They were wearing large hoods, and I couldn't see any faces; it was just darkness inside the hoods.
"Say what?" I said, not being at my most intelligent at that moment. "Choosen by who and for what?"
"You have been chosen according to an ancient prophecy, to become the ultimate warrior, to fight against the forces darkness which threatens to devour all life in our galaxy," one of them intoned again.
"Ultimate warrior? Me?" I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. "Me?" I gasped. "You must be joking! I mean, look at me! Short, chubby and half-blind without glasses!"
The three persons looked at eachother, then one said, in a more normal voice: "Uhm, aren't you Ms Drake, science genius?"
"No!" I laughed, "I'm Darkamber, librarian!"
"Oh... so sorry... our bad..." Even in those concealing robes, they managed to look embarrassed, and as if they where shuffling their feet. "We'll return you to your own reality now."
The world did that sickening rubber band thing again, and I suddenly found myself standing in my storage room in the cellar. With the door locked on the outside...
"Thanks a fucking lot!"
Fortunately, the lock's crap, so it only took a couple of kicks to get the door open.
When I went up to the 3rd floor this time, my flat was where it should be. I changed into my night t-shirt and crawled into bed. Mefisto was lying in the chair next to my head.
"Heh, would've been fun if you could talk in this reality, too," I said to him.
He just looked at me and yawned.
I chuckled and turned over. Just before I fell asleep, I thought I heard someone say: "My litterbox needs cleaning..."

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<hr [...] width"50%">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

Went out drinking last night. When I got home around 4 am I discovered I had run out of cigs, so I went to the gas station nearby to buy some more.
On my way back I suddenly experienced this incredibly odd feeling of the world being yanked sideways and down at the same time - it was disorientating and rather nauseating - then it jerked back into place, as if it had been attached to me by a rubber band. <lj-cut>I grabbed a nearby lamp post for support, and threw up. Still feeling a little sick and wondering what the hell had happened, I staggered back home, only to discover that my flat was gone. The name sign on the door was missing, and the key didn't fit. After a bit of head-scratching - surely I wasn't that drunk - I decided to look at every door in the building to see if I could find my name sign on a door. I turned around, and there was Mefisto the cat sitting on the stairs, looking at me.
"How did you get out? And where did my flat go?" I wondered out loud.
"Never mind that. What took you so long? They're waiting for you!" he answered.
What the hell? Either I was a hell of a lot more drunk than I had thought (or maybe someone had spiked my beer?), or I'd finally gone insane.
Mefisto got up and began walking up the stairs, then he stopped and looked back at me.
"Are you coming?"
"Uh, right, yes..." I said, and followed.
The cat led me to the roof, where three very tall and thin persons in dark robes were standing, surrounded by glowing spheres which floated in the air.
"Sooo, what's all this, then?" I asked.
"You are the chosen one," one of the persons intoned solemnly. They were wearing large hoods, and I couldn't see any faces; it was just darkness inside the hoods.
"Say what?" I said, not being at my most intelligent at that moment. "Choosen by who and for what?"
"You have been chosen according to an ancient prophecy, to become the ultimate warrior, to fight against the forces darkness which threatens to devour all life in our galaxy," one of them intoned again.
"Ultimate warrior? Me?" I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. "Me?" I gasped. "You must be joking! I mean, look at me! Short, chubby and half-blind without glasses!"
The three persons looked at eachother, then one said, in a more normal voice: "Uhm, aren't you Ms Drake, science genius?"
"No!" I laughed, "I'm Darkamber, librarian!"
"Oh... so sorry... our bad..." Even in those concealing robes, they managed to look embarrassed, and as if they where shuffling their feet. "We'll return you to your own reality now."
The world did that sickening rubber band thing again, and I suddenly found myself standing in my storage room in the cellar. With the door locked on the outside...
"Thanks a fucking lot!"
Fortunately, the lock's crap, so it only took a couple of kicks to get the door open.
When I went up to the 3rd floor this time, my flat was where it should be. I changed into my night t-shirt and crawled into bed. Mefisto was lying in the chair next to my head.
"Heh, would've been fun if you could talk in this reality, too," I said to him.
He just looked at me and yawned.
I chuckled and turned over. Just before I fell asleep, I thought I heard someone say: "My litterbox needs cleaning..."

<hr align="left" width"50%">
© 27. January, 2005
</lj-cut>

<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/crisper/26562.html" target="blank">About Rabbit Hole Day</a>

"In That Darkest Hour"

2010-04-20T10:10:54Z

I've been looking at short stories and ideas I have lying on my harddrive, and I found lots of stuff I didn't remember I had.
As it's getting close to that darkest hour of the night (4 am), I thought it would be fitting to post this little story here.

In That Darkest Hour

   He comes to me at night, while I sleep. It's always the same: I'm awakened by a sound down the hall, and I just know he's home again. He walks slowly down the corridor, towards our bedroom in the back. His feet make that distinct shuffle-drag sound; he has a stiff left knee, a result of a childhood accident.
   I just lie there in the bed, unable to move and curiously void of emotion, as he comes closer. The door swings open. He enters the room and stands there, staring at me - a silhouette with gleaming eyes. The lamp beside the bed turns itself on, casting a dim light.
   This is where the dream forks.
   When the dream continues, I can see him standing there, as he was before the accident. He holds out his arms to me, pain and longing on his beautiful face, wet with tears. His mouth opens and whispers the words: "I came back for you". I am overwhelmed with a flood of emotions, a mixture love and pain, and of disbelief and hope and fear. I stumble out of the bed and throw myself into his embrace - and awake weeping in both fear and grief.
   When the dream continues as a nightmare, I can see him standing there, as he must look by now: his skin pale and wax-like, and greenish with rot in places. Slowly, stiffly he lifts his mangled arms towards me. His face is chewed on by worms, a couple whose end parts can be seen waving from holes in his cheek. There's wetness on his face, streaming from his eyes and nose. His mouth falls open, too wide, and out cascades mould and worms and beetles. Each word is a laboured, rasping gasp: "I...came...back...for...you..." I am overwhelmed by sheer terror, and still I can't move. He shuffles clumsily closer to the bed. There's a disgusting, soft plop, as parts of his disintegrating body falls off. And still I can't move. I struggle in panic to wake up, but I can't. He reaches the bed and starts falling into it, over me - and then I finally awake, petrified by fear. I dare not move to turn on the light, for fear of what it might reveal, or that the sound of my movement will alert something in the room. I dare hardly breathe, while I strain my ears for any signs or sounds of anyone being in the room.
   These dreams have haunted me ever since the accident, and they're getting increasingly frequent as it gets closer to the anniversary of his death. The nightmare version outnumbers the dream, now, although they started almost half a year later.
   It was an accident, though at the time they suspected it was a wrongful death, and there was a trial. I'm innocent, I swear, though I was only acquitted, as they couldn't prove anything. I really believed it was purely an accident, until they told me otherwise.
   My therapist says the nightmares are symbols of my guilt for not being able to save him. But I'm not so sure anymore. Our love, our relationship, was all so intense, very close to morbid obsession. It was like being in a drug haze, and the few, short times I was able to look on it clearly, I saw it was devouring me, my identity, my life. It scared me, and I wasn't sure I wanted this - and then I would go under again. Sometimes, in that darkest hour of the night, I wonder if I am so innocent in his death after all...
   I think he knew, for there was a broken look in his eyes, and the very last thing he said before he went under was: "Why?"
   It's time now. This is when he died. I know he's in the hall. I'm awake, and I can't move. There's the sound of his shuffle-dragging steps.
   I don't know if he comes in forgiveness or vengeance.
   Now the door swings slowly open...

Sing-a-long from Hell

2010-04-20T10:08:43Z

The dimly lit, dilapidated stage is surrounded by several rows of small, It's-a-small-world-cute children who are tightly strapped to their seats, their eyelids glued wide open. The children scream in fear and vainly try to wriggle out of their straps as a huge, hairless, albino vampire bat waddles onto the stage. It stares hungrily at the children with its large, pink eyes and grins, showing off its large, sharp, yellowed teeth. The children scream in terror.

"Heeeeeeyyyy-deeee-hooooo, kids!", it shrieks gleefully. "It's time for a Sing-a-long with Darnedee, your unfriendly mutant vampire bat! Sing a long you little snacks, or I'll EAT YOU!" Shrieks of terror and pant wettings from the crowd. The bat takes a bow and begins to sing in a voice that could shatter crystal:

"Row, row, row your boat down the lava stream,
merrily your burning body's giving off a lovely sheen...

"Just a spoonful of arsenic makes the cyanide go down!
The cyanide go down, the cyanide go down....

"Green drops are falling on your head,
it's acid and soon it'll melt your brain and you'll be dead,
acid on your head,
oh, acid is falling on your head it is falling...."

The bat looks disapprovingly at its terrified audience.
"You didn't sing along!"

The lights go out.
Pain filled screams fill the darkness, wet tearing sounds, crunches and slurping.
Then: Silence.

Poems

2010-04-20T10:06:11Z

Dragonlady

"There's a dragon in my belly!"
hisses the wild-eyed woman with shaggy hair,
as she scratches at the iron bars
with long and blood red claws.
"They locked me up in here
-for my own good, they said!
Truth is I scare them witless!
They're afraid of what will happen
when my dragon finally breaks free!"
Ragged nails are dragged through long, tangled hair.
Her eyes glow, surely just a trick of the light,
pin-points of red fire deep inside them.
She grins and her teeth seem, oh, so sharp.
She speaks again and in her voice is
a faint whisper like scales slithering,
claws clicking, across a floor of stone.
"My dragon has been slumbering for years, you see,
but now it's rumbling and stirring in it's sleep;
it's stretching and flexing it's sinuous, powerful body.
I can feel its growing impatience
to break out of its narrow confinement.
It won't be long now!"
The madwoman throws back her head
and starts howling with laughter, triumphantly.
- And the sound of laughter rebounds, impossibly,
like the rumbling of distant thunder,
like the echo in a deep, dark cave...

© Darkamber 1991

Fallen angel

Bare-foot in the February snow
She stands alone on the bridge
Limbs like twigs
With a mind as easily broken
Her back and shoulders bent
As if she's trying to crawl into herself
She stares into the churning water
With eyes centuries old
And shadowed by old ghosts
Her mouth agape like a jagged wound
Open in a raw and voiceless scream
As her soul bleeds from vacant eyes
She tastes salt on cracked lips
And knows she's been turned into a statue

© Darkamber 1991

These are the two poems which were published in issue 13, in 1999, of Visionary Tongue.

ETA:
"Fallen Angel" originally had two more lines:
If only she hadn't turned around
And looked back at the desolate ruins

I dropped these two lines when I submitted the poem to VT; at the time (in 1999) I thought the poem worked better without them.
I wonder now why I named the poem "Fallen Angel"; the image I had in my mind was that of Idis ^[1], Lot's wife, who looked back on the destruction of Sodom, and was turned into a pillar of salt.

[1] Other versions of Lot's wife's name: Irit, Iris, Idit, Ildeth, Edith.

"Dreamsong"

2010-04-20T10:02:21Z

7.13 and I wake up
Yet another day is dawning
Somewhere a siren's wailing
But I don't want to wake up

There's a blue cat in my bookshelf
And it's eaten half my books
But it's none of my favourites
So I go back to the Dreaming

Everything's not all right - not really
Everything's not all right - not really

There's blood splattered on the walls
And ink stains on the carpet
There are footprints on the ceiling
And a man nailed to the door

7.13 and I wake up
There's a message waiting for me
On the screen of my computer
In huge, red letters

I sense it is a warning
So I read it twice and slowly
But it makes no sense at all
So I go back to the Dreaming

Everything's not all right....

© Darkamber 1995

This is a weird poem/song lyric in more than one sense: I created it in a dream.
I dreamt I was singing this song over and over, and I remembered the lyrics when I woke up (apart from all of second verse), so I could just write it down.

"My House"

2010-04-20T10:01:10Z

The rooms in my house
Are too many to count
And each with a secret of its own
There's a room filled with sunlight
Another with dust
And one where the wolves
Like to roam

There are skeletons in the
Cupboards, snakes in the beds
And corpses shuffling in
The cellar
There are bats in the attic
And a madwoman cackling
That I'll never be able
To kill her

There's a room without time
And another with roses
Yet another with dreams
Of treason
I can walk through my house
To uncover its secrets
But never its logic
Nor reason

© Darkamber 1992

Haiku

2010-04-20T10:00:10Z

Bright and shining is
the hidden pearl within me
I am that bright pearl

Amber remembers
memories caught in time within
curse and blessing both

© Darkamber 2003

These are the first poems I've written in 2 years.

"Golden Glow"

2010-04-20T09:59:16Z

Floating slowly down the river
Following its gentle flow
Sky is covered by a lace work
Leaves and branches hanging low
Sunlight flickers through the green leaves
Seems like magic, makes time slow
Brings to me the bliss of childhood
Never lost because I know
How to save this precious moment
Bathing in its golden glow

© Darkamber 2001

"The Truth" - a Cleo2525 parody (ficlet)

2010-04-14T14:23:26Z

Title: "The Truth"
Author: Darkamber
Fandom: Cleopatra 2525
Rating: PG?
Word count: 919
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, no money made, no infringement intended.
Notes: A rather twisted Cleo2525 parody I just wrote, inspired by someone mentioning (not for the first time) that Creegan behaves like a woman with PMS.

So, the day had come. Creegan had finally got his wish; he’d found Voice’s secret HQ, and cornered her. And Hel and her team were the only ones who stood between them.
Hel feared they wouldn’t be standing long, not with Creegan’s new army of Betrayers.

“I’ve got you now, Voice! “ Creegan chortled, grinning like mad. “Finally I’ll be able to pay you back for all the suffering you’ve caused me! I promise I won’t let you die quickly!”

“Creegan, “ Hel tried, “surely there is no need for this! There must be a way to resolve this without us slaughtering each other!”

“No need? No NEED!?” Creegan roared. “How can you defend someone who has caused so much pain and misery in her insane, futile cause, Helen? You can’t even begin to comprehend what she’s done to me! She took away from me what I valued the most!”

“You took my father away from me!” Hel cried. “Who are you to talk about causing pain and misery!”

“I wouldn’t have become what I am today, if it hadn’t been for her!” Creegan spat and pointed accusingly at Voice.

“No sacrifice is too great...” Voice began.

“Oh, preach to your own, Voice! I never really believed in your delusions! Everything I did, I did for you, and you were just laughing at me behind my back all the way, weren’t you!”

“Oh, come on!” Hel said to Creegan. “What could Voice possibly have done to turn you into an insane homicidal maniac!”

“She destroyed me as a man!” Creegan screamed, near foaming at the mouth. “And that was just for starters!”

“She what?” Hel glanced at Voice. Her lips seemed to be twitching – must be nervousness, she couldn’t possibly find anything amusing about this!

“She persuaded me to participate in one of her little experiments, just like she did Raina! It was a process that would enhance her soldier's strength and stamina, and it worked like she said, but she didn’t bother to mention the side effects, did she! Nooo! She knew perfectly well I’d never agreed to be her guinea pig if I had know!”

Hel’s ears must be deceiving her; she seemed to hear a faint snigger behind her back, coming from Voice.

“She... she turned me into a... a woman!”

Three jaws dropped and three pair of eyes boggled at Creegan, who was shaking his fist at Voice.
Then they all turned to look at Voice, who was now definitely sniggering, holding a glowed hand in front of her mouth.

Hel swung back to stare at Creegan. “I never noticed anything missing when I was you!” she burst out.

“It’s a prosthetic... “ Creegan said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched by his side.

Strangled sounds came from both sides of Hel, as both Cleo and Sarge where fighting hard to suppress sniggers.

“But, but, you could’ve just had it fixed?”

“That. Is. Not. The. Point!
“She robbed me of my manhood, and then she dumped me like yesterday’s news ‘cause she could never think of me as a real man again!”

Behind her, Voice had begun to laugh out loud. Hel gritted her teeth; Voice was not making this any easier!

“Shut up, you bitch!” Creegan roared at Voice. “I’ll soon wipe that smirk off your face!”

“Creegan...” Hel tried again, not that she thought there was any reasoning with him.

“Quiet, you!” Creegan said. “You have no idea of the depths of Voice’s and your father’s betrayal!”

“Creegan, no, don’t go there!” Voice said, suddenly serious.

“No, Voice, it’s about time Helen learned the whole truth! Don’t you think, Hel?”

Hel looked back and forth between Creegan and Voice. She did want to know the whole truth, and she doubted Voice would ever tell her.

She looked Creegan straight in the eyes.

“Yes, Voice, I do think it is time for the truth.”

Creegan began pacing back and forth, as if recalling the past was so painful, he couldn’t bear to stand still. Now and then he would glance at Hel, while he talked.

“When I was transformed, and Voice dumped me, I was crushed! Inconsolable!
“Carter was my only close friend then, and the only one who tried to console me. Hah! Little did I know! We grew close, very close!”

He darted a glance and a sly grin at Hel. She gaped and boggled at him again – Creegan and her father had been... lovers? No! That was so twisted!

“After some time, I finally came to believe I had found happiness again, then, out of the blue, Carter turned on me! He and Voice said they had evaluated me, and found me emotionally unstable and unfit to continue working with them, and they threw me out!
Turned out they’d been lovers all along, even before I met any of them!
They used me! Used me! And threw me away!” Creegan made a violent gesture with his arms, as if throwing something behind him.

Suddenly he stopped and turned around to face Hel.

“But do you know what hurt the most, Helen?”

“No, Creegan! NO!” Voice cried. She would have run forward if Sarge hadn’t stopped her.

Hel found she couldn’t look away from those mesmerizing eyes; she sensed that Creegan was about to reveal something big.

In a slow, measured voice Creegan said: “They wouldn’t let me take my daughter with me.”

“Y-your what?” Hel said faintly, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

“Yesss, Helen,” Creegan hissed, “I am your mother!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Written January, 2004

"Bad Cleo!" (Cleopatra 2525 ficlet)

2010-04-14T14:10:32Z

My creativity, which went awol while I was struggling with college, has come back. :-)
This one probably qualifies for an R rating, for mild kink & F/F sex - nothing explisit though, as that didn't seem to fit with a whimsical ficlet.

Title: “Bad Cleo!”
Author: Darkamber
Fandom: Cleopatra 2525
Pairing: Cleo/Sarge
Rating: R? - F/F, mild kink, sex
Word count: 778
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters, no money made, no infringement intended.
Summary: PWP
Notes: inspired by August’s comment on SF-Fandom’s Cleo2525 forum about “Cleo being spanked silly”.

Thanks to mythdefied for beta reading.

“CLEO!”

Cleo winced when she heard Sarge’s angry bellow.

“Cleo! Get your ass over here! NOW!”

Not daring to disobey an angry Sarge, Cleo hurried into Sarge’s private room.

“Door, close,” Sarge commanded.

Cleo jumped as the door hissed shut behind her. Sarge was glaring at her, arms crossed over her chest.

“You’ve been borrowing my stuff again without asking first, haven’t you?” Sarge growled.

Cleo was the perfect picture of embarrassed guilt; she was standing with her hands clasped behind her back, looking down, one foot kicking at the floor.

“Haven’t you!”

“Y-yes, Sarge...”

“Bad Cleo! Bad, BAD Cleo!”

“Yes, Sarge,” she agreed meekly.

“And what do bad girls deserve?”

“To be spanked, Sarge,” Cleo answered, her voice trembling a little, but a warm tingling began to grow low in her belly.
Sarge grabbed the chair from the nearby desk, placed it in front of herself, and sat down.

“Come here, Cleo.”

Cleo obeyed and crossed the room to stand in front of Sarge, gaze still on her toes, hands behind her back.

“Pull down your panties and place yourself across my lap.” Sarge ordered.

“Yes, Sarge,” Cleo said, feeling her face flush with embarrassed anticipation, and her crotch heating up.

Lifting her short skirt, Cleo put her thumbs inside the top of her panties and slid them slowly down to her knees, taking a quick peek at Sarge’s face as she did so. Sarge’s pupils had dilated, making her eyes look dark, and there was a hint of an exited blush on her cheeks. Cleo slid her panties down to her ankles, stepped out of them, then lowered herself onto Sarge’s thighs, wriggling a little, and not just to find a comfortable position. Sarge’s hand slid up her thighs and pushed her skirt up, then she placed her other hand on Cleo’s back to hold her in place. Imagining Sarge looking down on her naked ass made something clench almost painfully hard inside her belly, triggering an electrical throb in her crotch. She was already breathing a little faster, definitely getting hot between her thighs (was she wet already? could Sarge see that?) - and, oh boy, Sarge hadn’t even begun yet!

Without warning, Cleo’s thoughts and the silence were shattered by Sarge’s palm hitting her naked bottom, hard.

“OW!” Cleo shrieked and squirmed in pain, eyes tearing up.

Sarge continued slapping her palm against Cleo’s naked flesh, hitting first one buttock, then the other.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Cleo squealed in time with Sarge’s hand connecting with her ass, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Her body was thrust forward by each slap, then slid back on Sarge’s lap, causing her crotch to rub nicely against Sarge’s thigh. Cleo spread her own thighs a little more, knowing the effect that would have on Sarge.

This was no playful pretend-spanking, though, where painful slaps were alternated by lovingly caresses. Sarge was merciless and unrelenting - and Cleo was enjoying every second of it, squirming in pleasure-inducing pain. Judging by the sound of her heavy breathing, so was Sarge. Soon, Cleo’s cries changed character, sounding increasingly more like moans of pleasure than squeals of pain.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Delicious tension was building between Cleo’s thighs. She grabbed hold of a chair leg and Sarge’s ankle and wriggled her ass, wordlessly encouraging the other woman to increase the pace. Sarge got the hint; after all it wasn’t the first time they’d played this game.

Hard slaps rained down unmercifully on Cleo’s buttocks, until she finally tensed, bucked uncontrollably and screamed at the top of her voice. The incredibly ear-splitting wail didn’t quite drown out the loud moan Sarge made as she clutched almost painfully hard at Cleo’s side and thigh. It always amused Cleo how much Sarge got off on hearing her scream; these were the only times Sarge didn’t complain!

Spent and satisfied, Cleo went limp and hung panting across Sarge’s lap. Sarge lifted her up, turned her around and settled her in her lap (boy, but she’s strong!), putting her arms around her. Cleo shifted so she was sitting on her hip; it would be a while before she could sit comfortably. Sighing, she cuddled up against Sarge and rested her head against her shoulder, waiting for her breathing and heartbeat to slow down.

“So, have you learned your lesson now, Cleo?” Sarge murmured huskily against her hair, her breathing still a little unsteady.

“Yes, Sarge,” Cleo answered, pretending to be meek and remorseful.

“And you’ll be a good girl and behave?”

“Yes, Sarge,” Cleo repeated and giggled, already wondering what kind of mischief she should do next time to give Sarge an excuse to spank her silly.

Written November, 2003

"The Man" (fic snippet)

2010-04-14T13:55:05Z

It's my day off, so what do I do? Write another very short Creegan fic. ^_^

(Skuzz and Drek are actually two characters briefly mentioned in "In Your Boots")

"Well, if it isn’t Mr. Bigshot," Skuzz sneered when he saw the all too familiar crimson clad figure enter the combined hideout and club. "Look at him, swaggering as if he owns the place, nodding around as if he’s bloody royalty or sumthin’."

"Ssssh!" Drek hissed at his drinking buddy in near panic. "Geez, not so loud! Are you feeling suicidal!?"

"The Big Bad, Public Enemy Number One, thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us," Skuzz continued; he’d obviously had more than one drink too many. Hopefully the loud music was drowning his words. Drek was ready to run for it, if it wasn’t, so he kept an alert eye on Creegan for any signs that he’d move towards them.

"Look at those girls drooling all over him! Sluts! What’s so special about that dolled up freak, huh?"

"Well, he is The Man," Drek said. "And he’s damned good in bed..." he added with a wistful sigh.

Skuzz gave him a funny look.

“Or so I’ve heard them say!” Drek hastened to add, glad that the dim lights hid the blush he felt heating his cheeks.

"Why don’t those sluts ever hang on us like that, huh? We’re pretty bad, too!"

Yeah, but the big difference is that Creegan doesn’t smell bad, Drek thought, and wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of his buddy’s odour. And the way he moves... and that grin! Whoa! Too bad he only seemed to be into pretty, young females...

"Bastard," Skuzz said with feeling, envy shining clearly through.

"Yeah..." Drek sighed.

Written 14. October, 2003

"That Time of the Month Again" (fic snippet)

2010-04-14T13:46:13Z

Some more silliness.

The henchmen jumped when a string of very loud curses exploded out of
Creegan's private quarters. They looked nervously at each other. What was
it this time?

More curses sounded, then a roar:
"Felix! Get your ass in here! NOW!"

The henchmen gave Felix sympathetic looks and pats on the back; the poor
mutant's left eye twitched with a nervous tick, as he gathered his gear and
walked towards Creegan's rooms like a man to his certain doom.

No one envied Felix's monthly task of hairdressing.

Written 10. October, 2003

"It's a Wonderful Life" (fic snippet)

2010-04-14T13:41:59Z

Just a short, silly Cleopatra 2525 snippet that popped up in my head.
It's not easy being a henchman/-woman...
Can anyone guess all of Creegan's references? :-)

The mutant henchmen (and women, hard to tell the difference, even among
themselves) are even more nervous than usual as they sit with Creegan
around the table, playing something he called "poker". It's a boring game -
nobody even get to poke anyone - and worse, Creegan is on a bender, as if
he isn't unpredictable and short-tempered enough when he's sober.

"...and those utterly useless scientists!" he rants on, "Here I fork out
credits, and what do I get? A snark! I wanted a bojum and they gave me a
goddamn snark!"

Nod heads, make sympathetic noises.

Some drinks later:
"...just call me The Clown Prince of Crime!" Snigger. "And Voice would be
Batman, no make that Batwoman! Now, batman was cool! Voice isn't cool,
though, cold, yesh, oh, yeah, a real cold bitch..."

"Your turn to deal, Creegan, sir!"

"Huh? Oh, right."

Relieved looks at having prevented another "Voice is a bitch" rant.

Another couple of drinks later:
"...and then I drove the knife into his guts, like this!" He knocks his
glass over, spilling the drink; the nearest mutant hurries to refill it.
"Right in front of ev'ryone! And they all go, like: 'Oh my god, he killed
daddy! You bastard!' " He laughs so hard he would have fallen backwards if
the nearest mutant hadn't steadied his chair.

"Oh, yeah, it's a wonnerful life down here, in the twentysixshth - jus'
call me 'George Bailey'!" Chuckle, snigger.

Discreet, questioning looks, and shrugs; no-one has any idea what he's
raving about, as usual.

Several more drinks, and some lost games later:
"Screw you guys! I'm going home!"

He gets slowly to his feet, staggers a little, then heads for his private
quarters, walking with the deliberate carefulness of a drunk who's trying
to pretend to be sober.

The mutants slide down in their chairs, almost fainting in relief; everyone
has survived the game, this time.

One of them mutters:
"Wonderful life, my ass!"

Written 9. October, 2003.