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Perdita stared up at the vast, stone doors. All the lights behind them were out, and everything was quiet. Which was... unusual. Even the hot, still air seemed to have paused itself around her, waiting to see what was going to happen.

“I only came to apologise for the first time,” she yelled. There was movement inside, something like whispering that swiftly quieted the moment it realised it had been detected. She swore under her breath. “Fine, the seventh time! There’s no need to turn the bloody lights out and pretend you’re not home! You’re only embarrassing yourselves, you know!”

More silence. Clearly reputation meant nothing. She glared at the scrap of singed paper on the door again - or, rather, at the neatly penned message written upon it: “Not today, Satan.”

Like it was her fault the grumpy twat couldn't take a fucking joke.

Still, at least she had a funny story for the next time someone told her to go to hell.




https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234605734#cmt2234605734
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“Muuuuuuuuuuuummm!”

The wail roused Perdita from her doze. She flicked her awareness out instantly, searching multiple facets of reality for threats, anything that could harm her family, and found... Nothing. Nothing but the twins, Raina and Smudge, trying to rip each others’ heads off. Again.

Shit. She sprawled back against the pillows and wondered vaguely whether Ajhan would deal with it, like the good house-husband he was, or whether she should go break it up before the pair of them bothered their other mother. She didn’t get chance to contemplate the cost/benefit ratio of Vivienne’s annoyance before she heard pawpads thundering down the corridor, and fifty pounds of juvenile sphinx landed square on her stomach, his little tailed puffed up like a bottle-brush.

“Mum, she’s doing it again!” Smudge wailed. “You have to tell her!”

“Tell-tale tit!” Raina shouted after him. "Your tongue will split, and all the doggies in the street will have a little bit!"

"Will not!" he screeched back.

Perdita tried to catch his face so she could calm him down. “Doing what again?”

“Setting a trap for Santa.”

She blinked, trying to imagine how that was going to turn out. Grandpa Abby probably hadn’t factored it into his planned Mid-Winter performance... Oh, the grumpy old bugger wouldn’t know what had hit him. Stifling her laughter, she smoothed down her youngest child’s ruffled feathers and fluffed up fur, and asked, “Did she say why she wants to trap Santa?”

“She wants to make him answer a riddle before he can come in!” Smudge said, absolutely scandalised.

Biting her lower lip was the only way to keep from laughing. Perdita nodded, and made what she hoped were appropriately horrified sounds while she listened to his complaints. She couldn’t let the laughter out now, not when something so tempting reared its head. This was one hundred per cent a good idea, no 'at the time' about it. “You know what,” she said, finally, “I reckon your sister makes a good point. If Santa’s going to use arbitrary judgements like naughty and nice, well, he needs to expect you two to take your duties as guardians of the threshold seriously, doesn’t he? It’s only right and proper.”

“Told you so,” Raina muttered, peering around the door.

“Shush,” Perdita said as she beckoned her daughter closer. “Can’t blame your brother for getting confused - ambiguous moral judgements are Santa’s game, that’s why his rules are so vague, and you know how our family deals with those who want to play silly buggers, don’t you?”

“We change the rules,” Smudge replied. He beamed at the proud smile he got in return.

“Exactly,” Perdita said, gently booping his nose. She waited until Raina hopped up onto the bed next to him, before asking, “So, daughter of mine, what exactly did you have in mind?”

Abby was going to get the surprise of his very long life.


https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/381094.html?thread=2234572454#cmt2234572454
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“I know chess is your favourite, why the fuck else do you reckon Molly never played for keeps with it?” Perdita said. She kept her face carefully blank as she felt the brush of Molly’s presence against the back of her eye: a quick tickle of a component part giving the outside world a disapproving stare.

Molly Woods, who’d challenged Death and won over a dozen times on behalf of others, then gone down in an act of self-sacrifice and denied her long-time opponent the final grudge match.

Death had been livid.

But that was then, and this was now. Perdita moved her bishop, and then slouched comfortably into the cool sands of the Place Between. They weren't playing for keeps today - well, not exactly. She’d built a far different relationship with The Fairest Of Them All. Still antagonistic, to be sure, but along an angle that probably hadn’t even occurred to her avatar.

Plastering the cheekiest, most irritating grin she could muster across her face, Perdita stretched out her leg and nudged her toes beneath the hem of the night-dark robe, seeking a slender ankle.

She’d lost her shoes and socks three matches ago, but it was to be expected: strip chess just isn’t her game.


https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/415065.html?thread=2457688921#cmt2457688921
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"What did you estimate your chances at?" the stranger asked while rummaging through her pockets.

"Approximately eight hundred and seventy five trillion to one," Elef said. "With luck on our side..."

She made a disapproving noise. "With all due respect, fuck her ladyship, you're not going to pull off odds like that without sending the probability matrix into total freefall - no, what you need is a whole lot of uppers, and a chaos goddess who fancies going full-on Heart of Gold." She surfaced from her rummaging with a clear bag full of white powder, and flourished it theatrically. "Oh, and a very pretty lady who's willing to volunteer the small of her back for a bit. I'll buy her a drink afterwards."

"...Volunteer the small of her back for what?"

"Mate, I'm not gonna snort this lot off the back of a loo, am I? That's conduct unbe-fucking-coming of a Presence of my stature."

Elef blinked at her, hoping that somehow the words would suddenly click together and make sense, but he was still bewildered when she leaned forwards, and said, "Now, you've got to ask yourself one question: do you want to roll the dice on Lady Luck showing up and pulling off some astronomical odds, or-" She grinned savagely. "-would you rather lay them down on yours truly, the patron goddess of It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, and two pounds of pure, uncut Peruvian cocaine?"




https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/376942.html?thread=2207791982#cmt2207791982
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