For allbingo
Jan. 3rd, 2022 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofleithianTitle: Bless the Child
Summary: What if Andre Linoge had gone for the simple solution?
Prompt: Demon
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Andre Linoge already hated being on his best behavior.
Usually, in a situation like this, he relished the idea of exposing other people’s sins (when people later in the 2010s and 2020s began complaining about cancel culture later on, he would chuckle to himself wryly. As far as he knew, he was cancel culture before people started whining about it), ranging from large things to the occasional pulling a tag off a mattress. (Which even he had found actually quite amusing when that was the extent of his subject’s “evil”)
Unfortunately, as Leland Gaunt of all demons had pointed out, not only would people get suspicious, he would also increasingly alienate himself from achieving his goal. He could have tried procreating with a human woman (or any human with a uterus, cisgender women need not apply), but Linoge had never really seen the appeal of humans’ version of sex. Except for procreation, and even that was liable for some danger. So adoption was the best course of action he had.
“I mean, really, Andre, you don’t need to kidnap a child,” Leland Gaunt said. “Do you really want Michael Anderson and Alton Hatcher on your tail? Even if you could fight them off just fine, it would be less than convenient if they didn’t like you. In fact, while it is indeed a bitch getting people to like you, it’s infinitely more pragmatic.”
This was Gaunt’s fault. This was completely Gaunt’s fault. And Linoge only hoped it would be less disastrous than his first attempts to negotiate with the people of Roanoke.
(Not that he’d liked them, being the genocidal racists they were)
“I’m glad you’ve come down here, Mr. Linoge,” said the woman in front of him. “We’ve had some instances of kids ending up in foster care. Including dumpster babies. No idea who’d want to throw a baby in a dumpster, but I digress…”
I can think of a few. So far, the adoption agency woman seemed to have had a nasty spat with her mother that led her cutting her mother out of her life. That didn’t even crack the top one hundred of awful things that Linoge had sensed from people. Besides, depending on what sort the mother was (ranging from “merely” flawed to abusive), Linoge couldn’t say he blamed her. Sometimes he could be merciful, and not just pragmatic.
***
He chose a girl. Linoge could say that there was something about the birthmark on the three year old’s face that reminded him of a constellation. He had always pictured, for some reason, that if he had a child, said child would have some sort of unusual mark. A fairy saddle, anything like that.
She was an eerie sort of pale-skinned dark-haired girl, with lengthy hair that reminded Linoge of Ophelia hair. The only thing that was missing was flowers. Or something like that. He supposed it would be unusual if his heir slash apprentice had flowers in her hair (such cheerful things) but it didn’t really matter in the end.
“It’s very kind of you, Mr. Linoge,” said the woman. “She…well, I think the only problem is that she’s had difficulty talking. No idea if it was something developmental, or…”
“I can deal with that as it comes, I assure you,” Linoge said. “And for the record, Ida Mears, thank you."
***
Linoge left. It was when he was safely out of sight that he launched into the air, the strange girl clinging to him and shrieking with delight.
“Having fun?” he said to her. “It’s just the beginning, believe me.”
The girl giggled in excitement. It struck Linoge he had not given her a name yet. Perhaps he could ask her, later on.
Summary: What if Andre Linoge had gone for the simple solution?
Prompt: Demon
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: Once upon a time, leithian watched Storm of the Century and ended up wondering why Andre Linoge didn’t just go and adopt a kid. This is the result.
Andre Linoge already hated being on his best behavior.
Usually, in a situation like this, he relished the idea of exposing other people’s sins (when people later in the 2010s and 2020s began complaining about cancel culture later on, he would chuckle to himself wryly. As far as he knew, he was cancel culture before people started whining about it), ranging from large things to the occasional pulling a tag off a mattress. (Which even he had found actually quite amusing when that was the extent of his subject’s “evil”)
Unfortunately, as Leland Gaunt of all demons had pointed out, not only would people get suspicious, he would also increasingly alienate himself from achieving his goal. He could have tried procreating with a human woman (or any human with a uterus, cisgender women need not apply), but Linoge had never really seen the appeal of humans’ version of sex. Except for procreation, and even that was liable for some danger. So adoption was the best course of action he had.
“I mean, really, Andre, you don’t need to kidnap a child,” Leland Gaunt said. “Do you really want Michael Anderson and Alton Hatcher on your tail? Even if you could fight them off just fine, it would be less than convenient if they didn’t like you. In fact, while it is indeed a bitch getting people to like you, it’s infinitely more pragmatic.”
This was Gaunt’s fault. This was completely Gaunt’s fault. And Linoge only hoped it would be less disastrous than his first attempts to negotiate with the people of Roanoke.
(Not that he’d liked them, being the genocidal racists they were)
“I’m glad you’ve come down here, Mr. Linoge,” said the woman in front of him. “We’ve had some instances of kids ending up in foster care. Including dumpster babies. No idea who’d want to throw a baby in a dumpster, but I digress…”
I can think of a few. So far, the adoption agency woman seemed to have had a nasty spat with her mother that led her cutting her mother out of her life. That didn’t even crack the top one hundred of awful things that Linoge had sensed from people. Besides, depending on what sort the mother was (ranging from “merely” flawed to abusive), Linoge couldn’t say he blamed her. Sometimes he could be merciful, and not just pragmatic.
***
He chose a girl. Linoge could say that there was something about the birthmark on the three year old’s face that reminded him of a constellation. He had always pictured, for some reason, that if he had a child, said child would have some sort of unusual mark. A fairy saddle, anything like that.
She was an eerie sort of pale-skinned dark-haired girl, with lengthy hair that reminded Linoge of Ophelia hair. The only thing that was missing was flowers. Or something like that. He supposed it would be unusual if his heir slash apprentice had flowers in her hair (such cheerful things) but it didn’t really matter in the end.
“It’s very kind of you, Mr. Linoge,” said the woman. “She…well, I think the only problem is that she’s had difficulty talking. No idea if it was something developmental, or…”
“I can deal with that as it comes, I assure you,” Linoge said. “And for the record, Ida Mears, thank you."
***
Linoge left. It was when he was safely out of sight that he launched into the air, the strange girl clinging to him and shrieking with delight.
“Having fun?” he said to her. “It’s just the beginning, believe me.”
The girl giggled in excitement. It struck Linoge he had not given her a name yet. Perhaps he could ask her, later on.
