#And Dick is involved with the same Nightingale?

[spacedace]

@proshipper-on-ship​ thank you for the Dick & Dan idea you added to my other post, please enjoy some of the fall out your comment resulted in haha

“So,” Bruce tried, looking hesitantly pleased at the surprisingly light atmosphere around the table. “Anything new and exciting going on with anyone?”

There was a smattering of answers from around the table. Jason didn’t offer anything - which wasn’t surprising, that he was even there and largely not starting a fight was more than enough as far as Dick was concerned - but with some ribbing from Steph, Tim eventually admitted to finally asking that boy he’d been interested in out. Dick joined in on teasing his little brother - and even Jay gave, for him, some gentle ribbing over finally getting the balls to do something, eh Timberland? - while very carefully avoiding mentioning his own sorta-kinda thing with Dan in Bludhaven. He’d deal with his siblings making him miserable and embarrassed over it all when he actually scored a date with him thanks very much.

Things were going good.

And then Damian cleared his throat, looking imperious and uninterested at the same time as he waited for everyone to turn to look at him.

“I have an announcement on an alteration to my personal life.” He declared, chin up and looking like he was already over this whole family-bonding-time thing, which was fair. Damian had gotten better over the years, but he was still not exactly the cute and cuddly little brother. Dick still had the scar from the last time he tried to hug Dami without warning a year ago and got stabbed for the effort. Still, he was sharing, willingly even! That’s progress!

At the head of the table Bruce tilted his head, looking as cautiously hopeful as Dick felt over the youngest Wayne actually offering to share something personal. “Have you decided on what college you want to go to then?”

“No.” Dami dismissed easily, without more than a glance in Bruce’s direction. “Night and I have decided to take some time to travel before continuing any further schooling.”

Huh, honestly, Dick was kinda surprised. With how much of a perfectionist Dami was, he’d thought he’d throw himself into college with the same ferocious, competitive drive he did everything else. But then again, if Elle Nightingale was going to be taking a gap year or two, it wasn’t as if it was that much of a surprise that Dami would go and join her.

The two gremlins had been practically inseparable since they were twelve and discovered a shared love of stabbing people and adopting every animal they see. If Dami’s best friend was going to go gallivanting across the world like she always dreamed of doing, Dick couldn’t actually be that  surprised that Dami would be going with her.

Dick took a sip of his drink as Dami opened his mouth to continue with what was probably going to be to most people the world’s most harrowing game of “how many incredibly dangerous animals can we see before we end up dead on our gap year” that the two demons were undoubtedly planning.

He regretted taking that sip almost immediately as Damian said, “Night and I took our marital vows yesterday. She sends her regrets that she was unable to join us for family dinner tonight.”

Predictably, the room broke out into utter chaos.

Dick choked on his drink, spraying across the table and splattering Babs with a shower of wine. She didn’t even seem to notice, dropping her own glass as she snapped her head over to stare at Damian, the sound of breaking glass and a deep red stain pooling across the table following as she did. At the end of the table, Jay made a noise like a dying goose as the samosa he’d just popped in his mouth threatened to kill him. Cass, perhaps the most outwardly calm at the proclamation, only stared with wide eyes at her younger brother as she hit Jason on the back in an attempt to make sure he didn’t die.

Dick could practically hear the old shrieking AOL dial up noise that was Tim’s brain attempting to process what his little brother had just said, while sitting next to him Steph gave a small shriek of you what? Duke’s head was on a swivel, eyes darting from Damian, to another family member, to Damian and back again as if unsure who to even look at in the moment.

Bruce just…stared, frozen in place, face caught in the most open look of shock Dick thinks the man has ever shown in his life.

---

Damian sniffed and cast a caustic look towards - of all people - Jason, “Unlike some people, I share my good news with the family in a timely manner.”

Jay sputtered, “You know what, fuck you! Fine, you want me to share the news?” Jay snapped his head towards the rest of them. “Jazz is pregnant, baby is due next month on the sixth. Baby shower’s next weekend at Robinson Park, show up or don’t, I really don’t give a fuck.”

Or maybe he was just going to try to kill them with a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!”

“Language!”

“Who the fuck is Jazz?!”

“Language!”

“Night’s elder sister and guardian, Drake, keep up. You should know this, you’re dating her brother.”

“I’m what?”

“And Grayson is having flirtations with her other brother.”

“Dan is Elle’s older brother? Wait - how do you know about that?”

“Todd and I are in the Nightingale family group chat. We have endured far too much waxing poet about your posterior over the past months.”

“Why do they all have variations of the same name? Who gives all their children the same name?”

“He likes my ass?”

“Oh my god, bigger picture Dick, focus.”

“Seriously, do they all have the same name outside of the older sister? I feel like we need to acknowledge they all have the same name.”

“Can we go back to the fact that Damian got married? To Elle? Yesterday? How did you even do that without anyone knowing?

“Dr. Nightingale is a notary.”

“...Dr. Nightingale as in the woman Bruce is investigating Dr. Nightingale?”

“Okay but the name thing? Please tell me you’re not naming the baby some variation of the name Daniel.”

“If the gremlins get their way it will be. Do you know how many lists we’ve made that they keep sabotaging?”

“So you have Dan’s number? Could you give it to me?”

“Jesus Christ, Dick I’m begging you.”

“Why did you guys even get married?”

“For the diplomatic immunity.”

“You don’t have diplomatic immunity.”

“I do now.”

“What does that mean?”

[nelkcats]

Immortal Nanny

Bruce Wayne had never been a father. He knew what it was like to be a good father, and he knew what good fathers should be like, but adopting Richard was an impulse, a moment when he decided to give a child the comfort he needed, as he himself had needed in the past.

But just because he knew and understood didn't mean he could do it, or that he could become a good father instantly. Alfred would be a great help, of course, but it was he who had to raise the boy, Alfie was too old to start raising another child.

So, it was only natural that he forgot all about his busy life as "Brucie Wayne", adopting Dick hadn't stopped the million interviews or meetings, and while Alfred was extremely capable, Bruce still decided to hire a nanny.

Daniel Nightingale was a bit of an outsider (in a good way), he was studying at Gotham U, and was doing very well in his chosen career; though his records were strangely empty, Bruce knew he could trust him. His tired look and the shy smile he gave him upon arriving at the mansion was enough to calm his concerns.

Perhaps it was because he was just starting out as Batman at the time that he didn't investigate further.

Anyway, Dick loved Danny, from that first day, he used to tell Bruce about his "adventures" and how much fun he had. On one occasion he even told him they had a snowball fight (which confused him, because it was July but he was too tired to question the excited kid).

So, Danny became Dick's, and later Jason's, official nanny. He never complained and always smiled. The boy got along quite well with Alfred and would attend to any emergency, although he was never involved in the vigilante business.

It was only after Jason's death, when Tim arrived, that someone began to question Danny. Tim wasn't sure about Danny, there were a lot of things...that just didn't fit, and if the old photos of the mansion were any indication, the nanny wasn't getting any older.

Dick wasn't ten anymore and that was pretty obvious, but Danny looked exactly the same. Tim frowned, puzzled as to how no one had investigated such an oddity before. Alfred simply looked at him with an amused smile. He wondered how long it would take for the family to notice the (rather obvious) secrets of the elusive nanny.

Alfred couldn't blame the boy, the easiest way to hide something was in plain sight. And he knew the halfa would never hurt his family.

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Weekly roundups: prompts

Kara no Kyoukai

Ryougi Shiki but she's had Mystic Eyes of Death Perception from birth.

Alternatively, anything with Shiki Ryougi.

Azaka/[Ryougi] Shiki, comedy

Anything about Aozaki Touko (anything about Mahoyo Touko works too)

Anything with Fujino

Tsukihime

Incest tw: Kohaku/Hisui kissing

Unethical Ciel/Hisui

Kohaku drugging Akiha

Cozy pregnancy stuff with Ciel and/or Arcueid

unethical Akiha/Kohaku/Hisui. Something along the vague lines of "Hisui reducing the collateral damage of Kohaku's plan by having it focus on/drug/ensnare Akiha specifically".

Akiha petplay

Ciel/Akiha consensual blood drinking

Cannibalism tw: Arcueid eating Ciel's organs lesbianly

Shiki Tohno being fucked in the ass

Fate/Stay Night

Anything Sakura/Saber

Incest tw: SakuRin in a world where they were never separated

Shirou/rin fluff

Incest tw: SaberMorgan, pining

Illya being kissed

Sakura/Illya

Illya doing some killing

Saber and Illya having solidarity about their stunted growths

Saber/Caster on a date

SakuRider with the same energy that the Saber/Caster scene had

Shirou just discovered that every woman he knows is a lesbian

Saber with facial hair as lustrous and sexy as my icon.

Medusa/Saber

saber and rider should make out and fight to break the other's composure

Caster being a trans ally to Shirou

Rin/Saber/Shirou, Saber as middle spoon/shared goods?

Fate/Hollow Ataraxia

Kirei/Bazett smut

bazett/saber fucking nasty. we love repressed women and the dam holding their desires back breaking

kirei/claudia smut

Fate/Extra

Hakuno/Rin angst

Fate/Apocrypha

Sieg dragon sex

Cute gay fluff with Atalante

Siegfried + Sex Pollen

Karna fucking a dude that is not Arjuna

Transmasc or enbie Mordred(and if you are goin the smut route give him the dick that he deserves.)

Fate/Grand Order

one bed meme with gudako and every alter servant

Barghest/Atalanta/Queen of Sheba/Nightingale

Barghest cooking for Sheba, Atalanta, and Nightingale. Feeding kink is cool with this but not essential

Anne Bonny x Mary Read, something character-driven

Barghest having a fun time. Any type of fun you want, just give that gal something nice

Goredolf getting his dick sucked

Mash/Morgan

Arjuna bottoming for another guy who is not Karna

Charlotte/Ritsuka post-atlantis

All the kings of Chaldea reunite themselves over wich of them is the greatest of them all, over a week long discussion it was decided that the metric to decide who is the best will be a giant orgy, the last one standing being the winner

Anything with Asterios

Nobunaga x Ranmaru, futa mind break

Fujino striking up an unlikely friendship with someone in Chaldea

while at Chaldea, Artoria learns what trans people are and has a reaction that may or may not involve Mordred

Mash and Guda (Whichever gender) double teaming Barghest.

Maou Nobu divides herself between her three personalities and goes full offensive against Okita, both romantically and sexually

El-Melloi's case Files

Age gap tw: Gray having a crush on Waver. Preferably unrequited.

Mahou Tsukai no Hako

something fluffy involving Hibiki and Chikagi

Crossovers

Servants meeting their alternate selves (EMIYA and Muramasa, Sitonai and Prisma Illya, or anything else you can think of!)

Shirou/Mordred NTR (in a "Mordred stealing his dad's bf" kinda way.)

Nasu once said that Taiga Fujimaru's swordplay skills are on the same level as Ryogi Shiki, should they ever meet. I kinda wanna see how that sparring session would go, y'know?

Any fandom, any character

Body horror

a character of your choice coming to terms with being queer (whatever shade of queer you choose it to be.) Would rather if they could be a bit in denial at least at first, rather than just a straightforward "oh ok i'm queer no big deal" story.

kink discovery! A character of your choice discovers they have an unusual kink.

Selfcest

[sixrandompirates]

The “Shit I Paid For” Build

I started off playing Skyrim on PS4. I was just getting back into gaming and building a PC wasn’t even on my radar at the time. As a PS4 player, I was deprived of a lot of great mods because Sony is a dick, so I ended up picking up a lot of the Creation Club stuff. My go-to creations, depending on the build,  have been the paralysis rune, the Netch Leather armor, and the Lord’s Mail. I like this stuff so much that when I ended up getting on PC I bought them again. Everything else gets stuffed into a chest because I haven’t had any use for them once enchanting hits 100.

Been trying to get back on the PS4 because I paid for this shit and want to use it, but I keep doing the same things I always do. Therefore, when I sat down last night and loaded up the game I decided to freshen things up with a “Shit I Paid For” build, with a few more catches.

(And should anyone decide to soap box about paying for CC stuff, I’ll remind you that I paid real money for an imaginary Nord boyfriend to live in my house in ESO, so your opinion is about as valid to me as the Prince Irnskar-sized hole in my wallet. I just don’t care.)

So here’s the gist: I’m playing a Nord (because I haven’t played a Nord in years) who is mostly a spellsword, but depending on the situation she may lean more towards battlemage or warrior.

MAGIC:

I can’t buy traditional spells, but I can buy spells that I bought from the CC. Right now that means the Arcane Accessories pack, starting with Choking Grasp and Elemental Flare. Eventually I’m able to get the entire set of spells from this pack from Hobs Fall Cave, but until then I can buy the spells from wizards.

Aside from these spells, the only other spells I can buy have to come from Tel Mithryn and be Dragonborn-specific. The reason for this is I never use these spells. My illusionist used the bound dagger, but that’s it. I also can’t wait too long before I start trading with Talvas, and assuming you’re familiar with how you achieve this you’ll know how involved such a plot is. There’s a trick to it, but it doesn’t always work on the first try so I’ll have my face sanded off a few times before I can report my success to Talvas.

Dawnguard spells, as in the spells you buy from the Dawnguard, are off limits, mainly because my current OC on PC is a Dawnguard-centric character who only uses Restoration magic with an emphasis on sun spells and I just don’t want to do this again - not even the free Sun Fire spell you get at the fort.

Note how I said I can only buy spells from these sources. If I find a spell out in the wild - in dungeons, Apocrypha, or the Soul Cairn, I’m free to use them. So if I open a chest and find Invisibility, I can use it if I have the skill to do so. I can also make spells in the Midden if I have the resources. Then there are the Saints & Seducers spells, and possibly the gross zombie spell.

Staves and scrolls are a free for all. I can buy them, make them, or find them in the wild. There are some CC staves I can get, but I don’t relish being murdered by angry Dremora at level 10, so this is it for a while. As with Talvas, I’m going to need to make nicey-nice with Neloth pretty early so he can sell me unenchanted staffs, which relates back to the face-sanding from above with the addition of angry ash spawn trying to kill me with fire. The catch here is that I can’t use any staff enchanter until Neloth lets me use his. Myrwatch, one of the CC houses, has a staff enchanter and supplies to make 2 staffs, but doing so levels you up super-fast so I have to put the work in with Neloth first. 

Spider Scrolls! I never use these. By the time I get to that dungeon I’m just “heh, spider buddies” and never use them. Like going to Tel Mithryn, I’m going to make a point to visit White Ridge Barrow sooner rather than later. Wish me luck, and by that I mean wish Lydia luck because she’s going to have to take more than a few spiders to the face for me.

I also rarely use shouts. This is ridiculous. The game is centred around your character being able to shout and I only use four shouts in four very specific scenarios (Dragon Aspect for fighting Miraak, Aura Whisper for fighting Harkon, Become Ethereal for jumping off shit, and Unrelenting Force for shouting Delphine off of Sky Haven Temple.) So in this playthrough I’m going to shout the shit out of anything and everything.

WEAPONS & ARMOUR

A little bit more flexible based on the difficulty of some of the CC quests. Until I level up I’ve got to take what I can get, because there’s no way I’m getting Duskfang or Umbra at a low level, and grabbing the Civil War Champions stuff means putting a brutally mean Stormcloak out on the tundra and I will inevitably forget about her and walk face-first into her battleaxe while picking flowers, so I’m not going near that quest for a bit.

Nord is going to be a heavy armour girl. This decision is based entirely on the fact that initially the only armour in the CC was heavy - Lord’s Mail, Vigilant, Civil War Champion - so I have more heavy armour options than light. When I pick up light armour I’ll save it for a follower, who will probably be a mage or an archer so they don’t GET IN MY DAMN WAY WHEN I’M HITTING THINGS BELRAND.

While I’m going to be rolling in CC stuff, I also want one single set of bad-ass Daedric armour to pull out for special occasions. Because it just looks epic. There’s a light alternative in the CC, but I’d rather just stick with heavy since I’m going to be investing in the heavy perks and won’t need light perks by the time I can respec.

She’ll use crossbows, first purchased from the fletcher in Solitude, and later picked up from a quest. Bolts will need to be purchased from the fletcher as well until we get into Dawnguard and the Dwemer Nerd sorted. She’ll also use Ruin’s Edge on occasion, because it’s a bow with an eyeball and I’d be crazy not to use that. Arcane Arrows will be used sparingly until I’m sure my follower isn’t GOING TO GET BLOWN UP LYDIA.

She’ll also use both 1H and 2H, because I have a mixture of both weapon type creations and they’re wasted on followers, and because I’m a goddamn Nord. This should be doable since I’m not investing many perks into soft skills or much magic outside of the destruction tree.

OTHER STUFF

Otherwise, there’s a bunch of random shit to make use of. 

For housing, I’ll live in one of the CC houses, with Winstad Manor as more of a working house for alchemy and the other properties/houses just as something to buy for gardening and a place to sleep when I’m in town.

There are several pets I can adopt, which I will, and some of these pets will put more mobs into the world, like goblins. I’ll probably take the goblin buddy as a follower once I park Lydia at Breezehome and Marcurio (future husband) at a house.

New ingredients will be introduced into the world with Saints & Seducers/Rare Curios and the goblin mod, so those will be used - Night Eye is a must before Darkfall Cave.

Dead Man’s Dread is a housing mod, which I’ll use as a showroom because it takes 3 frigging loading screens to get in there. This home also introduces new clothing to the world. I’ll use enchanted versions of the clothing at a much later level for running around or when I’m doing the thieves guild (exception being Nightingale Armour, which as tradition I always wear during the final quest because I refuse to be the only one not in the cool outfit.)

Most of the CC stuff adds some questing, but for actual quest mods there’s Saints & Seducers and Forgotten Seasons for later levels.

So that’s my build, made up of Shit I Paid For and shit I never use (which is technically shit we all paid for.) It’s going to take some finesse, since some stuff is just OP at low levels in terms of damage and levelling, but otherwise I’m looking forward to something new.

[onewfantaesy]

Hi... could you please tell me where can I order my own angsty baby superhero? I think I need one...😂 And is it possible to have an episode where the league have some kind of training camp or summer camp for younger superheroes/sidekicks while the older ones having meeting with world leaders or some kind of conference. Taemin are sent to the one with the younger bunch and he think that he will get teased by the teenage superheroes. Or something in that tune. Thank you always for all the AUs.

“I’M NOT GOING!”

“It’s only for two weeks.”

“I’M NOT GOING!”

“We already signed you up,” Jinki tells him, still somehow very calm despite the fact that Taemin looks like he’s going to explode, little bursts of lightning crackling at the tips of his fingers. “It will be fun!”

“No it won’t because everyone is mean and all the sidekicks are dumb and what if people see and then Red Cyclone is the only adult at some stupid little sidekick summer camp and it’s not fair and I wanna go with you and it’s not fair!”

“Sweetheart,” Luna laughs a bit, gently guiding him to sit on the couch with her, “you don’t have to be Red Cyclone at the camp. You don’t have to to do any of the superhero training stuff - because you’re already a superhero. You can just go and have fun.”

“Why can’t I go with the rest of the league?” Taemin whines, aggressively cuddling into her side. “I wanna stay with you. And it’s gonna be my birthday!”

“You’ll be home before your birthday, and we’ll have a big party for you to celebrate turning eleven,” Jinki tells him.

“I wanna stay with you,” Taemin repeats, his voice soft but still with a whiny tinge to it.

“You’re so sweet,” Luna coos, hugging him tight. “But you have to go.”

“But I’m the only one without powers,” Taemin cries. “Cyclone has powers, Taemin’s just normal.”

“Arrow’s niece is going to be there,” Jinki tells him. “She’s your age, and she doesn’t have any powers, either.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Taemin huffs and sighs and continues whining for days, but he does end up going to summer camp.

“You’ll be in this cabin,” one of the older sidekicks who’s in charge says. “There’s only one other ten year old signed up, so you’re both in this cabin. She also has no powers, so I’ll be your group leader and we can do some different activities from the others.”

He knows his new group leader’s name is Kai, but he cannot for the life of him remember what his sidekick name is or whose sidekick he is. It’s going to drive Taemin mad for the next two weeks. Maybe he’ll get his roommate to ask for him.

“I do have powers, ya know,” Taemin says back in a snotty voice.

“Yes, but I was told you didn’t want to turn into Red Cyclone during this camp thing, so we’ll work on normal self defense, some offense, and archery, since that’s what your roommate specializes in. We can also do some normal camp stuff. Arts and crafts and kayaking and all that crap.”

“Wow,” Taemin says. “Sounds super duper exciting.”

“Just don’t be a dick and we won’t have any problems,” Kai tells him, making a face at him.

Taemin huffs when Kai leaves, goes and claims the bed on the right side of the cabin, and flops on top of the bed while holding his Jinx doll. This camp thing is gonna suck and he can’t wait for it to be over. Plus, he’s still offended that the League is going on some big peace-keeping trip across the globe and he got left with the sidekicks. It sucks. Everything sucks.

“Hi,” a soft voice says as the cabin door opens. “I’m Naeun. Are you my cabin buddy?”

Taemin looks up to see the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his whole entire life smiling at him and dragging a giant duffel bag behind her.

“Yes!” Taemin says, jumping up to help her with her bags. “I can help you! I’m Taemin!”

She giggles at him and has the cutest smile and a giant bow and arrow are strapped to her back.

Maybe there’s just one thing about this camp that won’t suck.

The first week goes smoothly. They spend their time sparring, hiking, and fighting off pre-programmed droids with the moves that Kai teaches them. He even takes them kayaking on the lake, and he’s probably the best sidekick Taemin has ever met. He must not spend much time at Mount Justice with all the other loser sidekicks.

“I’m not so much a sidekick anymore,” Kai tells him when Taemin questions him on it. “We’re more like partners. I told him I was too old to be a sidekick anymore.”

“How old are you?”

“You have a lot of questions,” Kai laughs. “I’m 20.”

“Wow,” Taemin whistles. “You’re old.”

“Thank you,” Kai laughs, shoving him. “Now let’s get back to archery. Naeun, can you help him hold the arrow properly, please?”

“Pull it back like this,” she tells him, holding onto his hand.

Taemin’s entire face turns red when she stands so close to him. He can hear Kai snickering behind his hand. Taemin wants to send the arrow straight into his kneecap. 

Many evenings find Taemin and Naeun playing around their cabin while Kai supervises and makes sure they don’t sprain an ankle or kill each other. It mostly involves playing tag or coming up with elaborate pranks to pull against Kai. It usually involves pouring lake water over his head. They’re both pretty sure Kai knows every time it’s going to happen, but he lets it happen to humor them. Taemin’s almost forgotten that the other sidekicks even exist.

Until Kai announces that the first Saturday, they’re going to compete with the others to take down a practice droid. 

“It’s just for fun,” he tells them that morning. “To practice the moves I’ve been teaching you.”

“But they’ll use their powers,” Taemin complains. “And they’re older. It’s not fair.”

“You can turn into Red Cyclone if you want,” Kai tells him. “No one will stop you. It’s just for fun, guys, I promise.”

“Oh look, it’s little orphan Annie,” one of the meaner sidekicks laughs when Taemin, Naeun, and Kai walk over to the arena that was set up.

Taemin immediately sticks his tongue out, makes a face, and flips him off with both hands. Kai has to physically pick him up and drag him away.

“Please don’t make those kinds of gestures,” Kai says.

“They started it!”

“And I’ll deal with them later,” Kai promises. “But please don’t flip anyone off, it’s rude.”

“Their existences are rude.”

“Please stop.”

The fact that Kai remains so calm helps calm Taemin down, and he ends up just discussing with Taemin and Naeun what their strategy should be to defeat the droid.

“Watch them,” he whispers as the first group battles the droid. “Look at everything they’re doing wrong. Their stances are terrible. They rely on their powers way too much. Don’t make those same mistakes.”

When the first group gets horribly beaten by the droid, Taemin gasps.

“I have an idea,” he whispers to both of them, and he pulls them close to tell them his plan. Kai approves after tweaking a few of the other moves Taemin had suggested, and Naeun is bouncing in anticipation as the other groups go before them.

Taemin ends up turning into Red Cyclone halfway through their fight to distract the droid. Naeun makes several critical hits with her arrows, and then they get the droid to corner Taemin on the ground.

All the sidekicks are laughing, saying that Taemin can’t even beat it as a full grown hero, but that just makes Taemin smirk even more.

“Shazam!”

A magic lightning bolt goes straight through the droid to hit Taemin and turn him back to normal, and he rolls out from under the droid as it collapses on the floor.

Taemin and Naeun cheer the entire time, high-five each other, and just in general act excited since they’re the only group who managed to beat the droid. Kai is even cheering loudly for them, and it’s just fun. Taemin is having a good time.

“THAT’S CHEATING!” one of the sidekicks screams. “YOU’RE SUCH A LITTLE CHEAT!”

Taemin and Naeun immediately stop, and they’re both so confused as they turn to the group of angry teenage sidekicks.

“How did we cheat?” Taemin asks. 

“YOU CAN’T JUST TURN INTO RED CYCLONE AND BACK IN A REAL FIGHT!” they shout. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

“Well I just did,” Taemin snaps back. 

“I’m the one who said he could do that,” Kai says, trying to diffuse the situation. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

That doesn’t help any. It turns into a mob of teenage sidekicks screaming at Taemin about how he’s a cheater, which turns into them mocking him for being a foster kid again, which turns into them saying, “THE ONLY REASON JINX AND NIGHTINGALE TOOK YOU IN IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE POWERS! WHY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE NOT WITH THE LEAGUE RIGHT NOW?”

And it makes Taemin freeze. Those thoughts are always in the back of his mind, that Jinki and Luna only took him in because they found out he was Red Cyclone and they wanted to keep tabs on him.

Even though it’s just a small group of sidekick yelling all these things at him, it feels like everyone at the camp is thinking the same thing. The camp leaders are trying to get everyone under control, but Taemin is so overwhelmed and upset that he turns back into Red Cyclone and flies back to the cabin.

He only takes his backpack with a couple changes of clothes stuffed inside, and flies away. He leaves his Jinx doll on the bed, still tucked against the pillow.

Taemin goes straight to his lair. It’s the only place no one else can access. He wants to be entirely and completely alone.

“You’re unhappy.”

Except he forgets the wizard can just pop in whenever he wants. It’s so rude.

“No shit, asswipe,” Taemin snaps. “You ruined my life!”

“I made you my champion.”

“And you ruined my life!” Taemin cries. “I don’t want to be a superhero!”

“You are not a superhero,” the wizard tells him, his voice very firm. “You are a champion of good. You protect people who cannot protect themselves. You help keep the balance between good and evil.”

Taemin turns back into himself, and he just cries. He crumbles onto the stone floor, hugs his backpack to his chest, and cries. He misses his Jinx doll, but he doesn’t want it anymore.

“You are pure of heart,” the wizard tells him for what feels like the millionth time. “This is why I chose you. But I think it’s time I teach you more magic.”

Taemin wipes at his eyes and looks at where the wizard is kneeling beside him.

“What kinda magic?”

“Every kind of magic.”

The wizard spends the next four days teaching Taemin about magic. He learns simple spells quickly, mastering them in just hours. Things like summoning fire and lifting objects. 

Other spells are not so simple. Like teleportation. And a trick that the wizard knew to keep surveillance on certain people.

He showed an example of it with Jinki and Luna. They’re frantic, having left the conference early to search for Taemin. 

He sees Luna holding the Jinx doll and crying on the bed while Jinki stays out late at night searching the city.

“They’re looking for you,” the wizard tells him. “They’ve been looking for you nonstop. You’ve been missing for almost a week.”

“They don’t really miss me,” Taemin lies to himself. “They only adopted me because they didn’t like that I was running around as Red Cyclone.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“Then why does everyone think it?”

“Because they’re jealous,” the wizard suggests. “Because they are intimidated by you. Because they want you to question yourself.”

Taemin is quiet for a long time. He watches as Luna cries and hugs the Jinx doll, as Jinki shouts to other superheroes about how unfair it is that the police won’t search for Taemin because, “This is what he does, they said! He’s a ten year old boy, I don’t care how many times he’s run away before, he’s missing! He needs to be safe and at home!”

Other heroes are out looking for Taemin. Many of them left the conference early. Many came to help as soon as the conference ended.

The sidekicks who heckled him were punished. Again. Taemin isn’t sure it will really do anything, but apparently his running away is a big deal.

“I’m afraid to go back,” Taemin admits. 

“Why?”

“They’re gonna be mad at me.”

“I think they’ll be overjoyed if you go back,” the wizard tells him. “They miss you a great deal.”

It takes about an entire day, but the wizard convinces Taemin to go home.

He goes back in the middle of the night. Jinki is still out looking for him. Most of the house is dark, but the back door is left unlocked.

“Mom?” Taemin whispers, tip-toeing up the stairs.

He finds her sleeping on his bed, still holding onto his Jinx doll. Taemin kicks off his shoes and gets in the bed next to her, taking his Jinx doll to hold to his chest. He really missed it.

Luna wakes up an hour later to find Taemin completely knocked out next to her, and she just starts crying and fixing his hair and hugging him. It wakes him up, and he whines a little bit, but he doesn’t fight her off when she holds him tight to her chest and whispers how much she missed him.

She calls Jinki right away, and he’s back home within ten minutes to hug Taemin and tell him how much they missed him.

“What were you thinking?” Jinki asks, holding Taemin so close. “We’ve been worried sick.”

Taemin doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t really know what he was thinking. He was upset and scared and wanted to go somewhere he could be by himself.

“Are you okay?” Jinki asks softly. “Are you hurt?”

Taemin only shakes his head and holds on tighter. He doesn’t want to talk.

“Did anything bad happen while you were gone?” Jinki asks.

Taemin shakes his head again.

“Okay,” Jinki says softly. “We can talk more tomorrow. Let’s go to sleep now, alright?”

Taemin falls asleep between Jinki and Luna that night. He really did miss them a lot.

[kegareki]

dameamaryllis replied to your post “The video opens to the Five Nights At Freddy’s title screen and a...”

Oh, I love this! May we know more about Jaz, pretty pretty please? (Does Jason still dies? Please say no!)

it’s ME, do you think that i could let jason die if i could help it??

jason has a much larger weakness to mother figures than jaz does. jaz is a lot less willing to extend any amount of trust towards possible bio mom sheila--which is good, considering that if they went along with it with their guard down, they would’ve been lured into a trap and brutally murdered by the joker. no thanks!

as you can imagine, jason is more well-adjusted than in other canons because he was not killed or almost killed by the joker at 16.

jaz and jason are robin at the same time. it was suggested that they have separate codenames, but this was shot down because they both want to be robin.

(”do you want one of us to be batboy?” jason demands. “i’m not gonna be batboy.”

“i don’t wanna be batboy, either,” jaz says. “that’s the name of a reject robin.”

“the name of a shitty bargain-bin robin.”

“technically, i am getting a deal on robins,” bruce says.

“you can be batboy then!”)

because no one has an untimely death, the role of robin does not pass over to tim during a time of desperate need for a stabilizing influence on batman, and therefore jason doesn’t resent bruce for replacing him or tim for being his replacement. tim becomes robin in the same way that everyone else does: bruce sees a tiny child in need, sees that he is in a position to help them, and goes “oh, no.”

jason and jaz respectfully retire from the position of robin and move cities entirely to help dick over in bludhaven.

(”WHAT IS A GOTHAM GOLDEN CHILD DOING IN BLUDHAVEN,” someone tweets in distress. accompanying their tweet is a photo of jaz, who is sitting on the other side of their classroom.

someone else responds with: “grayson went to bludhaven around the time bruce wayne picked up the todds & bruce wayne is apparently in the process of adopting another kid rn. bludhaven might just b where gotham kids go to escape their adopted sibs”

the original poster replies to this, shaken, “are you telling me that gothamites view bludhaven as a vacation spot? this is the most terrifying thing anyone has ever said to me”)

more under the cut because this answer is getting Very Long

jaz’s vigilante name is nightingale, which immediately pegs them as a double-act with nightwing, but i wanted a bird name and if leliana could use the name nightingale, so can i

they’ve got the same sort of blue stripe that nightwing’s got going on, as well as the domino mask, but their outfit as a whole is more reminiscent of red hood’s--suit beneath a jacket and trousers, belt, boots, etc. they use escrima sticks like nightwing does, but they transition comfortably between impact and edged weapons, with the same sort of “if they don’t go down when beaten, they’ll go down when bleeding” mindset that jason has

jaz, dick, and bruce are all similar in that they all go where the need is. sometimes you have to make a choice on what thing or person needs you more, because you can’t take care of everyone and everything at the same time. you can’t. something will always be your priority.

in ‘verses where it’s just dick who’s trying to meet people’s needs, he gets so strained, because he can’t give all of himself to everyone who needs something from him. jaz helps, though. they can go where he can’t. like--between damian and tim, dick’s gonna go after damian. damian’s a kid and dick’s responsible for him. and jaz can go after tim in his stead

in one of my aus, where jaz lands in an alternate universe where there’s no native jaz and therefore everything went predictably to shit:

"Dick is the only Robin who made it to eighteen," Jaz says. "Have you thought about what you'll be after?"

Tim pauses, expression shifting. "Not really," he admits. "I haven't needed to. Until now, I guess."

Jaz puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. Even if Damian does become Robin, that doesn't mean you're being kicked out. Damian is a ten-year-old who's been trained by the League of Assassins. He needs to be supervised, and you don't anymore. And besides," they add, "you're not the only one whose partner is being stolen. We could team up."

He smiles hesitantly. "I haven't patrolled with you yet. Let's start there."

(i gave up on understanding the dc timeline so the ages i go by are “if damian is 10, tim is 18, jason is 22, and dick is 25″ since i think that dick is 28ish when damian is 13?)

dick, jason, and jaz are all pretty tight-knit with each other, but their next favorite batkids are all different? dick is close with babs and damian, jason is close with cass, jaz is close with tim...

ALSO if it was not obvious, jaz/dick is a thing. generally i do not write romantic relationships involving si/ocs, because i am aromantic, but i make an exception for dick grayson. (”you are my only exception” by paramore plays in the distance) they’re very cute together and playful and fun and sweet. i have a soulbond au where they’re soulmates. i almost never write soulmate aus. that is how much i love them

more things i want to say but that i’ve run out of steam for paragraphs about:

jaz adopts a black cat and names him catman. they take snaps of him zooming around their apartment with the caption “nya nya nya nya catman”

they are the singular robin whose favorite hero/vigilante is batman. however it should be noted that bruce wayne is not their favorite; batman is. the absurdity of a growling man of the night accompanied by a brightly-colored acrobatic child is so utterly charming

in jazverse canon, jaz is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns and tim is trans and uses he/him pronouns. bruce wayne has not messed up their pronouns Once and, when other people misgender his kids, he always makes sure to say The Correct Pronouns Or Terminology in his response. #BruceWayneSaysTransRights is a real hashtag

jason and jaz are protective of each other. i’m not saying that jaz would’ve decked sheila in the face, but i’m also not saying that they wouldn’t

the imagery of jason and jaz attending gotham academy is so funny. like. they’re from fuckin crime alley and then they get adopted by bruce wayne and now they go to the Elite Private Academy of gotham where everyone is rich and snobby. they read the lord of the flies for english class and agree that the events of the novel are made possible only by virtue of being populated entirely by rich white cis boys. their discussion immediately goes to “so if that happened with our class, who would die first” because, to quote jason todd, “even if no one tried asserting dominance, these kids have the survival instincts of a toddler”

jaz’s full name is jasmine and their nicknames are jaz and jazzy. dick calls them hummingbird sometimes because they’re short and have adhd. also because they looked Utterly Betrayed by dick and jason both having -bird nicknames but not them

[sixth-light]

Yuletide Letter 2019

Dear Yuletide Author,

First of all, thank you for taking the time to read this! Yuletide is one of my fannish highlights of the year and I’m really looking forward to whatever you write for me. If you’re interested in personalizing things a bit more, read on. If you find it easier to work with just the fandom/characters/DNWs, or have an idea that’s grabbed you already, don’t feel bound to any of the prompts here – they’re just intended as suggestions for people who like to use them.

General preferences:

Stuff I really like in fic includes: people being kind to each other, science (and SCIENCE!), mystery plots/casefic, found family, loyalty, women bonding and female friendship, queer communities, humour, happy endings, the exploration of worldbuilding and its implications (including via AUs), expansion on/use of minor canon details, and cracky premises/tropes treated with some seriousness.

Stuff I would really prefer not to see in a Yuletide fic includes: dark interpretations of characters (or darker than canon, where relevant), brooding, angst, endings that feel hopeless, infidelity, noncon/dubcon, incest, child abuse, explicit or detailed violence, people being humiliated, embarrassment humour, and canon being changed or rewritten Just Because. That said, in general adult elements of all sorts (sex, violence, swearing, discussion of mortgage tax) are fine, especially if in line with the tone of the canon.

Canon notes:

Rivers of London (Beverley Brook, Cecilia Tyburn Thames)

I love the Thames daughters and their family relationships, and how they love each other despite their differences in generation/personality/life choices. I don’t mind if a fic focuses more on one of these characters as long as it involves both of them. Some prompts to get you started:

Bev and Science (and her choice of university study)

Ty looking after young Beverley (the same way Bev looks after Nicky)

Silly family traditions

Ty babysits Baby Grant-Thames (happily, grudgingly, happily but pretending it’s grudgingly)

Ship-wise, I am a fan of Peter/Beverley (and Beverley/Peter/Nightingale) and would LOVE a story that fleshes out Ty’s relationship with her husband a bit, but I’m more looking for gen focusing on Beverley and Ty than anything centering the men in their lives.

DNW: anything more than a brief mention of Nightingale (I love him! Some stories do not need to be about him!), breakups, horror/grimdark interpretations of the Rivers and how their magic works, a deeply flawed/bad relationship between Bev and Ty.

Sins of the Cities – K.J.Charles (Sukey)

I really enjoyed the middle/lower-class focus of this series, the Eat the Rich undertones, and Sukey, who isn’t going to let anything stop her. I have read Any Old Diamonds and Gilded Cage and am very comfortable with you incorporating what we find out about her future into this fic, but no worries if you haven’t read them.

Some prompts to get you started:

How Sukey views her adoption by Justin

Why Sukey is so attached to Emma

Sukey and her extended adoptive and very queer family

Sukey Solves A Mystery Without Anybody’s Help (as a child, teenager, or adult private detective)

Ship-wise: I like all the canon ships in this series, please no break-ups. If you’ve read AOD/GC, I really enjoyed Sukey’s romances (present and past) and would be happy for either of her canon love interests to show up.

DNW: Any focus on child abuse, particularly sexual abuse; Justin being a dick (…more than he is in canon); Sukey looking down on Emma.

The Daevabad Trilogy – S.A.Chakraborty (Zaynab al-Qahtani, Ali al-Qahtani)

I love this series for the worldbuilding, for the plot twists, and for all the characters, who need to learn to stop stabbing each other for like TWO SECONDS, guys. Possibly my favourite scene in Kingdom of Copper was the one where all the al-Qahtani siblings yell at each other about treason in a broom closet. I just want them to be HAPPY (except Manizeh and Ghassan, who Know What They Did, and Dara, who needs a Time Out To Think About His Life Choices first).

I really enjoyed Zaynab’s bigger role in KoC and her sibling relationship with Ali. Some prompts to get you going:

How Zaynab actually feels about potentially being married off to the ends of the earth

Zaynab’s relationship with religion and her views on her brother’s

Ali and Zaynab have childhood adventures

Ali and Zaynab have an adult adventure involving water and their Weird Water Powers (and Ali’s Weirder Water Powers)

Ships: Not looking for a ship-focused story, but happy for Ali/Nahri or discussion thereof to be background, as well as canon Muntadhir/Jamshid and Muntadhir/Nahri. No Nahri/Dara please.

DNW: Heavy angst, extended focus on Zaynab and Ali distrusting each other, unhappy endings, background Nahri/Dara.

Gideon the Ninth (Gideon Nav, Harrow Nonagesimus)

This was my favourite book of 2019 and honestly I’ll read anything related to it. I especially loved the Kiwi slang/sense of humour/in-jokes and this post on the characters’ appearances. The ending killed me and I am HERE for fix-it fic.

Some prompts to get you going:

Gideon and Harrow try to seduce each other (badly) and/or passively-aggressively try to seduce other people to annoy the other into dating them (even more badly)

Modern/Regency/really any AU (necromancy optional) so long as EVERYBODY LIVES

Specifically, an academia AU (same life-or-death approach! The lowest real-world stakes possible!)

Moments when Gideon and Harrow liked each other for one micro-second, growing up, before regretting all their life choices and swearing eternal enmity again

\If you can write me a modern AU of some description actually set in New Zealand (NOTA BENE: I want this but also am incapable of not being picky about it) I will love you FOREVER

Ships: Gideon/Harrow, duh, but otherwise go wild, except for Magnus and Abigail, they were adorable Old Marrieds and should stay that way.

DNW: High levels of gore (canon was borderline for me), Gideon and Harrow *genuinely* hating each other for the entire story, a depressing ending (see: canon)

[prairiedust]

Folk the Author

Hi all, I’m stealing a little time from moving in to revisit my folktale metas before hiatus is over and my classes start up again (I accidentally signed up for a Maymester this summer and did a semester of coursework in six weeks and am mentally still spongy. Hard not to try to apply Bloom’s taxonomy to Supernatural watching, like where do I fall, am I a lower-order watcher, how can I put Bloom’s descriptors into a lesson plan about Supernatural, help.) 

Here’s a quick discussion of the season 14 finale and some thoughts about where folklore as a theme has taken us In Light of New Information™. If you haven’t read the previous posts on this topic, they’re tagged under “the folklore of supernatural.” Moriah lends itself better to deconstructivist and postmodernist readings, but I’m gonna try to dig some folklore themes outa that sumbitch so here we go.

I’ve been talking about folklore a lot this season, but let me recap the different kinds of “folk tales” I’ve been thinking about. The first, purest form is the oral folk tale, conceived completely as spoken word and delivered via performance for an audience; by its nature it is ephemeral, exists in the moment, and persists only in the memories of those there when it was performed. Then we have stories that are transcribed during their telling, a la the Brothers Grimm. Was something lost when the stories were written down? Facial expressions, strategic pauses, laughter or gasps from the audience, that would bring drama or pathos or hilarity to the tale? Then we have literary fairy tales, stories like “Sun, Moon, and Talia,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “The Nightingale,” which are constructed with the architecture of folklore but are written works-- even if it was based on an oral tale, such as SM&T, the structure and prose is that meant for a reader. Oftentimes, “folk” themes are scrubbed (or are completely retooled) as these are meant for an aristocratic or at least literate audience. Think about how the wolf eating Red Riding Hood and Grandma is often Sanitized for Your Protection by having the wolf knock Grandma unconscious or something in retellings of the story. (In case you don’t know, the wolf eats Grandmother and eventually Red Riding Hood, too, and a woodcutter comes by, hears their cries, and cuts them out of the wolf’s belly.) Another kind of folklore exists that I’ve touched on, that of written literature that reentered oral tradition-- an example of this kind is the Grimm Brothers’ Little Briar Rose, ostensibly collected as an oral folktale but inspired heavily by the aforementioned “Sleeping Beauty in the Woods” by Charles Perrault. 

This interplay between folk/oral tradition and the literary one is set up directly by the ending of Supernatural’s season 14. We’ve known Chuck to be a writer ever since his entrance into the series in season 5 but he was framed as a prophet of the Lord, a mere recorder of the Winchesters’ actions, and it was assumed at the time that his works were reflections of the visions he received as prophecy. His narration and disappearance in Swan Song placed all of that in question, but there was never anything in canon that did more than hint at his larger role.

Knowing now that Chuck is God/The Author (instead of just “the author” as he has been introduced as, like in Fan Fiction) quadruple-charges the folk/auteur dynamic. Chuck is pitting himself as the chief architect of the world’s narrative against his own characters, who he had essentially allowed to run away with the plot. Another way of looking at this is through the lens of postmodernist theory, where the author becomes irrelevant once the work is published, and interpretations are the sole domain of the reader/audience-- Chuck versus TFW becomes a grand collision between old-school literary theory versus “death of the author.” (This has huge implications for meta writers and the problem with taking a break from fandom is that I don’t know what was discussed about this, but it’s exciting.) I’m still parsing the interplay between God the Author as both auteur and audience, the actual TV audience (us!), and the characters-- which are now all characters! and authors! and audiences! The deconstructivist reading writes itself.

But back to the program. This sudden rivalry between God and the Winchester clan can, on another level, be seen as the tension between a narrative constructed by a literary writer versus the motifs and characters that make up the folk tradition. What I want to talk about, then, is a reading of the series post- season 5 as folklore, and Chuck as a writer who is trying to bend the ending of the tale for his own gratification.

I’ve spoken a bit before about the tale we know generally as Sleeping Beauty, as it made its way from folklore into the literary realm and back into folklore. At some point, an “early” version of the story was written down by a Neapolitan writer named Giambattista Basile in the seventeenth century as “Sun, Moon, and Talia,” and officially became a literary fairy tale. How far removed it is from the oral tradition is anyone’s guess, I think. Anyway, Charles Perrault, a French writer decades later, reworked the tale into “The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood,” and then this story made its way into the hands of storytellers in Germany and reemerged as the “folktale” “Little Brier Rose” and was harvested by the Brothers Grimm in the nineteenth century, and when they entered it into the written record it once more became a literary fairy tale. It’s a good metaphor for what is happening in 14x20. Chuck engineered Dean’s and Sam’s births and possibly also all of their lives’ events up to 5x22 Swan Song; it’s not really clear when he stepped out or to what extent he has remained involved. This changes the angels’ allegation that God has been gone for centuries-- he’s just been writing anonymously and mailing in the drafts. We’ve seen the power of writing in Meta Fiction when Metatron powered his own scribing with the Angel Tablet, which gave him god-like powers-- but then, as now, our folk heroes snatched their victories out of the typewriter of doom and changed the course of events... that was a ridiculous metaphor but I’m only a little sorry. 

What we are being led to believe now, then, is that Chuck set up (“wrote”) the events leading up to the Apocalypse, and Sam and Dean and Castiel were turned loose in the plot and ended up acting as chaos agents, runaway literary devices as it were, and Chuck has been very amused to see what they’ve done with the shit that he’s slung at them. “You’re my favorite show!” he exclaims, bending the author/character relationship in Pirandellic ways, almost to the breaking point. However, it is clear that Dean, Sam, and (probably) Castiel still have free will and use it to deny Chuck his tragic ending-- that of Dean killing Jack-- as Sam instead tries to kill God himself. 

“Alright. Story’s over. Welcome to the end,” Chuck says as he unleashes Hell and calls up a zombie horde to attack Sam, Dean, and Castiel; it is revealed to the audience that the ghosts which the Winchesters have dealt with through the years are returning, their own endings coming undone. This is a return to their roots, as their very first case in the Pilot was a ghost, so while it’s not clear yet if every monster has been reset, this is a way of the story to circle around back to the beginning. This is both a literary device and a folk one, as folk tales are almost universally about getting past recursions and to a new ending, such as the two times the little pigs’ houses failed until the third pig’s house is strong enough to withstand the wolf, and in literary stories the circular narrative features in novels like Huckleberry Finn, where the entrance into the story of Tom Sawyer reframes the entire plot, or Moby Dick where the ending makes sense of just about all the strange things that happened as a means to save Ishmael’s life. 

Folk tale plots, where the monsters are handily defeated by an unlikely hero or heroine and the innocent go back to their lives, are now being confiscated by an author who is actively rewriting the stories to suit his own desires. As I’ve discussed before, most of TFW 2.0 are framed this season as folk characters, and we know since fairly early days that they had gone beyond even Choose Your Own Adventure™. (Sam is a special case of an author insert or a character running away with the story that I hope to talk about in another post, let’s just say his role has been very meta...)

I’ve been fascinated by the idea that the act of recording a story changes it since I was young, and I’ll link a couple of things to think about now. When I was little, and I’ve mentioned this before, I lived in Tennessee and was fortunate enough to go several times to the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, where I learned that experiencing a story face-to-face is different than listening to the recording in a very important way. I listened live to a terrifying tale called “Tilly,” conveyed by the master storyteller the late great Jackie Torrence. It is a story that speaks brilliantly to the hearts and backbones of younger children. Later, we heard her tell W. W. Jacobs’ “The Monkey’s Paw” by on a recording of a live storytelling session (“Graveyard Tales” 1984,) from that same festival, and I learned, sitting in a darkened living room with parents and siblings seemingly as terrified as I was, that even when a storyteller’s aim is to frighten, there is something comforting and grounding about having the storyteller in front of you, guiding you through the story they are telling, and somehow the story from the record in the record player was infinitely more scary for having no one there at all in the room who knew how the story was going to end. I think that’s where we’re going to be at the premiere of season 15. We have an author who has undone the folktales that Sam and Dean have worked all their lives to craft, ones where the monster is slain and the good townsfolk get to go about their lives once more, and he’s bending it to his will instead of allowing the “folk” endings that we’ve come to expect. 

One more thought about “writers” that comes from this episode. I’ve been upset for a couple of seasons now that we’re not hollering more about Dabb and Singer (and possibly Ross-Leming) dispensing half-truths and bogus assertions-- like Singer’s claim that we would “never guess” who was going to possess Dean, when meta writers excitedly postulated that it would be one of the Michaels, and this season Dabb stating that Dean wasn’t secretly possessed when it was clear that there was still a tether to AU!Michael who had been wiretapping him all along so that Dean might as well have been secretly possessed. It is a ham-fisted way of managing our expectations so that ostensibly the gotcha in that episode would still be a surprise. Spirit of honesty, in practicality it’s just short of prevaricating. It’s the kind of thing the writers should probably just keep mum about, imho. And then in the season 15 finale, Castiel (sometimes a liar himself but is nonetheless held up in this episode to be The Voice Of Truth) says bluntly, “Writers lie.” (It’s easy to forget about Metatron uploading “all” of human media into his head, so there is no better authority about fiction in the room than he.) In an abstract sense, yes, a writer creates what are essentially lies-- fictions, tall tales, things that never really happened to characters that don’t really exist-- but here we’re faced with the possibility that we can’t trust them to be truthful outside of their own fictions, either. I found Dabb’s tweets throughout the season to be cryptic but in many ways very spot-on to how they related to the episode he was tweeting about, but I think we’ve been warned. About the writers: Supernatural is always about the “twist” at the end, and in this way they’re professional liars-- they lead us in one direction, or in no direction, as Sam and Dean try to figure out the MOTW or the angelic double-cross or whatever. And then yikes it’s a ghost or Metatron is the homeless guy or something. Steve Yockey leaving the writer’s room has left me gutted, although I have high hopes for Jeremy Adams, who has been a writer for Scooby Doo, and is thus probably quite clever at writing episodes with a “reveal” at the end, and which in the Scoobyverse are always satisfying-- like, that’s the requirement, that [redacted] actually being the Miner Forty Niner is, like, yeah, gooood stuff. I hope that we’ll be thanking the authors for the experience they’re taking us on with their weekly fabrications instead of screaming that we’ve been sold a bill of goods about any given theme in season 15. So mote it be lol. Anyways, there’s my ruminations on the writers as a bonus.

I think that exploring the season through the lens of folklore paid off in spades in the finale as it set up a “folk/author” clash that will be interesting to watch going forwards. I don’t know that this theme will carry on, and make no predictions if it does, that’s not what themes in a serial text do necessarily. I mean, clearly, we’ve got some author/character shenanigans to look forward to, but whether we’ll be dealing with more folklore, whether the theme will transmute to literature or even absurdism, or to reader-as-author is something I’d like to see but can only hope for. I think it will be a wild ride and while I see a lot of Gloom ‘N Doom around this last season, I’m really looking forward to it. For me, this season’s writers have been providing that yeah gooood stuff so far, and remember how subtext (and btw I don’t mean destiel subtext) in a serial text works? I think these guys are all really good at delivering subtext (well, most of them) and we’ll have a surprising and satisfying twenty episodes.

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 11: “ The Shopping Trip (FROM HELL!!!) ”

We continue right where we left off (with a slight retcon, to where Luctan and Mournimar had given Burk directions to a fight club, should he find the time.)

As the tieflings (one in human disguise, naturally), walk about to find the  Abbacus Walk library, they notice  there’s a lot of variety in the races in Sa Doma (It would appear that the closer they get to Crystalgate, the more variation there is). On the South side of town, the usual combo is Humans, Half-Elves and Halflings, with a variety of giant folk and lizard people as they pass along.

While they pass the entrance from which they came, they get weird looks from the two red tiefling guards, that Luctan had taken notice of earlier, but nothing really dings for either side as the boys make a slight detour to the “Queen Nightingale” tavern.

A family establishment, in both senses of the word as adults and hang around, sit around and play around, with a muscular half-elven server giving some entertainment to the kids.

While a little tiefling girl and a goliath boy play tag around them, Luctan overhears and snoops in on a family unit of half-elves, who are in talks with the barkeep, whom we later learn is Medive (or s we figured already, since Gorruk did point it out). The family are to make a trip to Crystalgate in the next couple of months. One they usually  make for a year’s time.

Luctan manages to play things cool as he falls onto the male elf, only getting a slight chiding to lay off the drinking, while Mournimar talks acquaintances with Medive and elaborates on how Gorruck is doing. “A friend of Gorruk is a friend of mine.” Medive says as he continues to give us some advice on Sa Doma.

Things we had already heard from Ficus, mostly.

What we don’t know, but now learn, is that Medive is a married man, husband to the half-elven yolked fellow named Rufus.

Luctan and Mournimar are given advice to stay away from the taverns in the Southern part of the city, as that is where trouble lies (REMEMBER THIS FOR LATER!), but should they look for work, as they appear the adventuring sort, they could speak with the Lawmaster there, as they usually have work that the Dark’sbane army would vehimetly refuse to partake in.

What’s more, the priestes of Bellinas has been having trouble lately,s what they learn.

With nothing else to add to the conversation, the boys decide to take a seat and eat some fine meats and drink some fine drinks (whiskey and brandy respectively).

While the boys nom, we cut to Belli and Ficus, who are on their way to the temple of Keemis, Goddess of Birth and Death, with Ficus having re-disguised himself as a human man.

Before long they would arrive at the temple of Keemis. It seems to be a lot more simplistic in design, compared to others. The symbol of a snake eating it’s own tail on it.  Belli points “Hey, look! It’s like what Fantasy Marylin Manson tried to do.”  Belli does not approve of the minimalism. Hoards and shinys, do.

Going inside, the duo meet up with Kit, presenting herself as her usual changeling self, and a purple tiefling man named Rosef, a friend of the two rogues and, as it has been set up from last session, a drug dealer.

What follows is a introduction for and to Belli, before the trio aquire Summershade for themselves. A type of experimental batch. How experimental? This is the second batch, basically. (Belli ain’t no pussy. She wants that good shit.)

Before the three leave together, they talk of the gods. “Keemis will take us when our time is right. Why not enjoy ourselves until then, you follow?!”Rosef states. And absolutely doesn’t believe Belli when she claims they met Dyunificus (or a representation of him at least).

As the three make their leave to do the drugs, some Beli/Kit flirting happening in the process, we cut to Burk, who gets a room for himself and Rimefang, where he tries to hold a conversation with his baby boy, whomst he has adopted.

Sadly, he can’t understand draconic and Rimefang becomes visually perplexed (MAYBE EVEN SAD?!) that his Goblin dad doesn’t get his lingo. It doesn’t take Burk long to go and look for a translator, lucking out with a Lizardfolk man, whom helps him with some mediating with Rimefang. So far he’s called Burk “Dad” in Draconic.

And advice to help the little one learn common.

And so comes the time for Rimefang’s first word in Common.

“Kill.” Burk is a froud FÄTHER.

Returning back to their room,  Burk gives bedtime stories for Rimefang. “And then everyone died.”Rimefang is picking up random words. He calls Burk “Dad”.

Back with the tieflings, they leave the tavern after a hearty meal and double pistols and a wink. And make their way to the place they were originally planning on going. 

Luctan talks with a prostitute along the way, having noticed that she seemed quite miserable. But his kind gesture only earns him smoke, from her cigarette, to the face.

Luctan retaliates, by leaving and using thaumaturgy to make a loud crashing noise inside the establishment she works off from. Though she doesn’t go in.

They eventually reach the Library Tavern, where the atmosphere inside is warm and welcoming. A magical fire heats the building’s insides from the fireplace as the two take note of all the shelves. It’s actually kind of wild how many books are in here.

Each tiefling checks for a book that would interest them. Mournimar finds his quarry imediatelly, a book on the constellations. A guide with many pictures, and takes to a sofa,to do some reading.

Meanwhile, Luctan gets his hands on a book by some weirdo named “Taryon Darrington” and immediatelly doesn’t believe the guy’s legit in his writings. This all seems frankly made up. Really?! A Kraken?!

Instead, he continues with his search and then gets something that really catches his eye. The book “ Haanderstaad “,  Scribed by “Gillan Monroe and written by Kheya Steelheart, a brave dwarven woman and adventurer in her own right.

It writes about the misdeeds of a clan of bandids. Mountainspine” is the clan. Referred to often as simply... The Spine.  - A Tribe of Dwarven bandits from about 10 years back and how they would take advantage of the effort of war to increase their raids. It told of how they’d get more powerful, the trials and tribulations of living this lifestyle and the lessons one could take from it.

Taken interest, the two proceed to buy these two books from a very strong, elderly Goblin woman, whom Mournimar is just aghast by, but Luctan is just completely giddy over.

With a transaction made, the two proceed to Peppery Pete’s.

All the while, Amelia keeps on snoozoing. Good times.

Back with the trio, they eventually reach Ficus’ hideout after much walking and flirtations with orcish fellows.

There, they do drugs and it basically plays off like every video of a bunch of cats on catnip. Lots of face touching and poking and drawing dicks on Ficus face. So many dicks. So many.

So. Many.

That and Ficus drinks a potion, which makes his veins glow a bright blue. Which Belli adds to with the Dancing Lights, basically creating a mini-rave inside of this safe house, where talks of waifus and whatnot occurs.

There was cake at some point in their backstory. It was wild. Ficus is sometimes so proud.

As the girls go outside, we cut back to Luctan and Mournimar, who manage to score a Bag of Colding from Peppery Pete’s, along with a business arrangement to represent him and his wares during the Festival in less than two months in Crystalgate. Some pricess lowered, naturally. There is also talk of magical items and enchantments to be applied, if possible.

The boys get some information on the tournament. Some that they knew, about the accidents that may happen,and some that they didn’t, that every faction on the continent gets represented during the tournament. Usually by teams of 4-5 members.

As the conversation draws to an end, they get more information on the priestess of Bellinas’ woes. There’ve been disappearances happening lately and Potencia worship has been occuring more often than not.

That said, the boys make their leave from Peter’s and proceed to gather the rest of the party, having decided to investigate these happenings.

Amelia, with a killer hangover, joins them and they soon collect Burk and Rimefang. Together, the six (Amelia, Burk, Luctan, Morgan, Mournimar and Rimefang) get to Keemis’ temple and speak with the high as a kite Rosef, explaining their search and want to involve themselves in the drama involving Potencia’s worshippers.

Rosef sighs, elaborating that he doesn’t involve himself with other deities, beyond his own. They eventually leave and carry on Northward, searching for the next 1-2-3-4 hours (and that’s with a roll of 19! Seriously, the tiefling boys were pretty on their game this day with same rolls).

They eventually find Belli, alongside a disguised Kit. Whom appears to them as a pink tiefling (the ribbon tied to her right horn). They are writing weird symbols on the wall of the temple of Honos.  Belli’s high af. And neither of the ravenhaired boys notice it.

They try to bring Belli along, back to the taver, having realized they’d have to update everyone in the morning. With a 19 roll, Lucky Luck Luckily picks up Belli over his shoulder and does the carrying, while getting “pounded by mighty fists” on the back. Ah, sibling shenans.

Everyone gets rooms!

Burk and Rimefang share a bed, as they are small sized, Amelia takes a room for herself with a double bed, getting all that room to sleep in and the remaining four take a third room, where Morgan guards the door, while Belli sleeps on top of the tieflings, while Luctan does some reading (as best he can).

Belli has completed her quest! (Full Steamer Ahead).

The following day, they are woken early on by the quaking of the ground (Luctan gets blamed, since he did do an earth shake on the way back, passing by the prostitute’s establishment).

His innocence is soon established as the bunch exit the building, seeing a pillar of smoke rise to the sky from far away. History tells Belli, Burk and Mournimar that this is from a volcano, which hasn’t errupted in 2,000 years!

Having updated each other on the Potencia activity and thinking it connected somehow (*cough, it’s not, as our Dm stated later on, since this was related to the ball from sessions 7-8) and the party takes off to the temple of Bellinas, where a motherly human woman in sleepwear stands outside, tired and slightly graying. 

The Priestess with a very elaborate facial scar, introduces herself as Nash and we, in turn, introduce ourselves by names and party. (Apt, as this Side-Quest is called “Who you gonna call?!” She looks confused as Belli introduces herself, seeing as she shares a name with Nash’s Godess). We learn more of the disappearances. Details, such as places of vanishment and common patters, like the drunk, the lonely, those who wouldn’t be missed. The usual victims, basically.

She, Nash, radiates that Big Mom energy and (I can say this as Luctan’s player at least, Luctan feels a great urge to help her, regardless. He is the momma’s boy of the party. It’s him.) is a bonafide doo-gooder. Gosh darn heck it!

We agree to help, having experience with taking down cults (Word travels fast, even in a low tech world as this) and Nash is impressed. With all possible details that we can think of being covered, The party sets off to the Southern part of town.

(TOLD YOUUUU!)

We find ourselves in one of the locations that Nash gave us, that of the  The Scared Heart tavern. A fucking dingy place, where we pass by a smiling troll man (nice guy, totes), before entering. Inside, we speak with the barkeep, regarding the missing man, who had been working here. And we pay him, a Golliath, 10 gold to make a quick investigation.

Burk does good with a roll of perception, recognizing someone.

One of his three targets. A red tiefling with blue hair, a dagger at his side. One, whom recognized Burk’s armor the moment he had entered and had looked away. Possibly, thanks to Mournimar speaking with him and the man’s rude response, it’s when it clicked for Burk. The man, who killed his cousin Sam.

As the quartet  make their way up the stairs, Burk hands Rimefang to Amelia, while he approaches the devil man, sweating buckets at the mere presence of the scarred Gorbarian (I WILL MAKE THIS A THING, DAGNABBIT!)

Burk confronts the man. And bluffs that he wants to hire him for a job, asking him what his opinion was of goblins. “Feral, violent things.”

Burk corrects the man that most goblins aren’t violent. Except himself. 

He rages.

And he lops off the deep red tiefling’s arm, spraying the room with plenty of blood.

He soon knocks the slayer of his kin out and bribes the Golliath with all the gold he has, to keep him quiet. As this is the shadiest part of town, it works. He takes a room, where he plans to spend some quallity time with his victim, while Amelia is urged by the Golliath to collect water and clean up the mess Burk made.

Rimefang at her side, having to be held back by Amelia as Burk takes the unnamed tiefling away.

Upstairs the four go and investigate for any clues, but beyond the symbol of Potencia, we don’t find anything of note, sadly. Deciding to move on with a different location, nearby, they ask Amelia to avoid drinking, so as not to make herself a target, while she waves at them with the lopped off arm of the tiefling. (It’s been a day, man. It’s been a daaaay.)

From the second location, Mournimar gets a familiar feeling and theorises that Lazarus is involved here... But as it were, he can’t be sure. Outside the building we find a trail of blood and footsteps in the dirt and with Morgan’s experr snoofer, we reach the back of a tavern, called “The Venomous Row.”

The backdoor is closed, locked even. 

Some planning occurs and, with 20 minutes of Pass Without a Trace to spare, the trio collect the rest of the party, but Burk and go back to the backdoor of the tavern.

Ficus opens the door with a Knock Spell and inside we investigate the stench coming off of the barrels...

Much to our shock, we find a body, in rigor mortis, cut apart in one of those barrels. The target, based on his condition, we deduce that he was very much alive, while he was being destroyed. The torture lasting for days, before the man passed.

With a 21 history check, Mournimar recognizes the handy work and remembers the person, whom would have done this.

Not Lazarus.

But Kah’lia Da’vir. Mournimar’s very much living mother.

The boy is in panic and is comforted by Belli and Luctan, who keep him safe and sane in this trying time.

The lot agree to collect Burk and take their findings to the Lawmaster. (Along the way,  Amelia wiggles her brows, when Belli mentions that Amelia could yeet Mournimar out of a window, while they make plans on how to proceed ahead).

With a clean Burk at their side, they visit the Lawmaster’s building, but are forced to partake in the buroacracy of talking to fucking Stacy. The Half-Drow secretary, who keeps talking about appointments and shit.

This leads them to nowhere. Not even Amelia exhuding that Big Lesbian Energy can help them. Stacy is such a Stacy.

With their attempts not working out, Luctan decides to take the reins of the situation and heads off, followed by a determined Mournimar. Everyone goes along as they draw close to the tavern, before Luctan nods for Mournimar to follow him in a back alley.

Luctan takes his ring off and hands it to Mournimar. In case they find MarMar’s mother inside they’d need time to prepare if they have an all out battle with the cultists of Potencia...

Mournimar takes the ring, puts it on and takes the form of “Michael Moonglow”, aka. “Mike”.

Walking out, Ficus is, to say the least, very impressed with Luctan’s true form. Luctan appreciates this.

This settled, the bunch take to “The Venomous Row”’s front entrance, going in. All of us. All Nine of us. With Morgan and Rimefang. (In hindsight, we should have had a few folks come in from the front and a few from the back, but aah, emotions were on high and Wisdom is in low supply).

Taking to a table, Luctan can tell that at least five people have their eyes on the Cultbusters:  Two bartender women, two patrons sitting at a table with another person (at another angle), a man sitting next to a male bartender and a man sitting next to a fireplace. And shares with the gang.

There is a backroom, on the other side of the bar and Belli sends her familiar, in fly form, to investigate.

There, he finds a ravenhaired woman and a man, who is writing down something.  As this is happening, Luctan manages to bluff, with some play acting and good rolling, that Belli has passed out from going on a pub crawl.

Buggy (as I will refer to the familiar, until Jes gives them a name) flies around and Belli sees markings in a language she doesn’t know, on the book. As well as Potencia’s symbol. 

As a person goes inside, Luctan whispers to Belli, who snaps back out of things, to cast sleep on as many people as possible.

And the session ends here (And out of character knowledge, we learn that there are guards outside the establishment).

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[kiara-carrera]

can you tell me more about how ana (and gemma & brielle if you want) will fit into season 1 and what her relationships will be like with the other titans??

this was long so imma throw it under the cut lmao

send me an ask!

oo we’re gonna break out my unintroduced babies alright let’s get it but we’re gonna start with my smol bean ana

so for ana, she fits into s1 in much of the same way that gar does. due to being at the caulder house, she’ll come in with gar in episode 3 at the arcade and ends up leaving with the titans at the end of episode 4. her and gar are already best friends, so the foundation with them is already there in terms of what the relationship will be like. they’re the wicked soft best friends to bf/gf trope, so part of s1 will see them sorta feeling out the bond they have and dealing with budding feelings. ana gets along well with rachel and it’s definitely nice for them to have another girl around their general age because from what it looked like, rachel didn’t have any friends at her school and ana’s only female friends since living at the caulder house was rita. with kory, much like rachel and gar, kory’s sort of a mom figure for ana and ana thinks that kory is wicked kick ass like yes girl light those assholes up. as for dick, ana sorta has a special connection to him in the way that robin was there with batman to get her dad sent to arkham so ana’s pretty grateful for dick and trusts him just as much as gar and rachel do. basically, this is just one big happy family road trip story,,,yknow,,,with deranged psychos out to kill them but its fine.

MOVING ON TO GEMMA AND BRIELLE!!

okay so where ana is a standalone story, gemma and brielle are actually apart of a connected series (that’s yet to be named). i haven’t introduced them yet, so basically the low down is that gemma is a love interest for dick and brielle is a love interest for jason (“don’t make a jason story,” joey told me as i continued to fall for the trash son that is jason todd). 

so gemma halliwell (played by willa holland) is one of bruce’s sidekicks who goes by the name of nightingale (i figured bruce should keep the bird theme) and she was taken in by bruce when she was like 16/17, so a few years after he adopted dick. her background is sorta similar to jason’s in the way that she was basically on her own and shit. bruce took gemma in because he saw potential and also because he was like it’ll be nice for dick to have a friend and they both said fuck that and fell in love because honestly what the fuck was bruce expecting??? she comes into s1 with jason in e6 because jason basically drags her along to find dick. lemme just say that she is NOT pleased with dick at all. basically when dick decided to renounce vigilantism, he left gotham and gemma and she’s sort of never forgiven him, so prepare for angst and leftover feelings to thrive. as for the other titans, i don’t have a lot of that planned so that’s pretty tbd (she thinks kory’s powers are pretty badass tho). her and jason have a stereotypical squabbling siblings thing going because she thinks he’s a complete dumbass lmao

as for brielle oliveira (played by camila mendes), she’s basically a free-write for me because she’s only really involved with jason and gemma and doesn’t meet the titans (tho that’s subject to change based on whatever happens in s2). i don’t have all the details but basically on one of jason’s first outings as robin, he saves brielle’s life and recognizes her as a waitress from this diner in gotham. so he basically drags gemma to this diner constantly to like see her and always hits on her and shit and honestly this girl is having none of his bullshit but it’s a very cute romance ngl.

[dailyarturia]

Since you are the Saber of Sabers, can we get a rating of the Sabers?

she’s massively oversaturated the market by now and I’m tired but whenever she has a Big Character Moment(TM) I still gotta wipe a single tear. kinda bland honestly but not bad. 7/10

I rolled her on like a single in my first week of fgo and she’s been my trusted general ever since. love the “desperately clings to ideals she’s claimed to give up on” thing it’s spicy. i don’t like the dress tho whom the fuck would rather have that weak bitch dress when they could have big goth armour. 8/10

doesn’t make any fucking sense but she’s cute so its ok

siegfried is my siegfriend I will love him even if dw doesnt. born with all the power of a hero and always been painfully aware of this so he lived his life wielding that power only how those without that power wanted him to and eventually got backstabbed by his friend for it. super mega cursed with misery thanks to the rhinegold and basically existed only to cause strife and be the tragic backstory of his wife, which he is also painfully aware of and so very sorry for. after death he decided that if he got the chance he’d like to fight only for the things he himself believes in because if he fights only for that which is good and just this time around then surely he will be causing good things for a change. he’s supposed to be a walking fortress of a man and I really will kill dw for what they did to him one day. 10/10

ah yes, the “covering up feelings of inadequacy with a punk-ass attitude”, a classic. she’s SO DESPERATE to be needed is painful to watch but she really hit the fucking jackpot with shishigou. I’d be nicer to her on this blog but I have a brand to maintain. 9/10

she has also oversaturated the market so much and I’m so tired. hogged all the attention in both ch rome and extella without actually getting any development out of it its been THREE AND A HALF GAMES and they STILL dont want to go into the fact that emperor nero might have done a few things wrong even though it’d make her way more complex and engaging to like, have flaws that are more than just mentioned then handwaved with an ‘umu’. i complain but actually im a bitch cause i fall for the umu every time. 8/10

do not be FOOLED by his delicate curls and knightly bearing he is a THOT and CCC is where he shows his true colours. completely lacks any fucking subtlety which is why he’s triple buster. feels the fall of camelot is his fault for not being a good enough knight cause it’s easier than admitting the king he dedicated himself to was flawed so when he gets summoned by a kid who looks just enough like arturia to bring up that complex he goes all fucking in on doing exactly what he’s told even though he knows on some level that’s just going to have the same result as the first time aroaund. having a bad time(TM) in camelot too cause his memories of the place were heavily romanticised and he’s having a hard time reconciling the reality of the mess the round table is in with how he wanted to remember it. don’t ever forget him making dick jokes in extella that was the only thing extella did right for him. 9/10

good civilisation but honestly I’d be lying if I said I really knew what the fuck her deal is. 7/10

THE GOOD UNCLE. a fuckhouse in the lewd sense. he got massively, humongously screwed in the not-sexy way by the king of ulster and in his anger at the absolute disrespect he deflected to connacht but he spent the rest of his living years torn between genuinely liking it in connacht and deeply regretting ever leaving ulster. a hotblooded warrior like all the ulster folks but in the end his deepest wish is just for everyone he loves to get along, which is fundamentally impossible cause those people involve both medb and cu and when they did seem to be on the same side in america it was so painful to watch he decided to just kinda fuck off and die cause he couldn’t bear it but also didn’t want to speak up and be forced to take a side again. please look up his bond lines you would not BELIEVE how much you straight up date him. 10/10

my BOI. the single largest consumer of “loving my wife” juice. he’s actually better as an archer but because his wife only qualifies for archer he only ever lets himself get summoned as saber as to not ruin that astronomically small chance of seeing her again. an old and wise king but because he’s summoned as a pretty young boy he comes across as a haughty brat instead. he spends like half of ch america getting carried around in a backpack by nightingale its good. 8/10

you have never done ANYTHING wrong, in your LIFE

really wish they’d let you have a personality outside the gender thing but id still die for you 

memes

bi culture is having four swords cause bi means two so you dual wield twice. bi culture is having three buster cards cause the B in buster stands for bi

IF THEY DON’T MAKE YOU TRIPLE BUSTER ONCE YOU INEVITABLY ARRIVE IN THE GACHA I’M GOING TO FUCKING RIOT. IF ANYONE SHOULD BE TRIPLE BUSTER ITS YOU. I’VE GOT LIMITED/ZERO OVER FLB AT MAX LEVEL I’M FUCKING READY DW GIVE ME ULTIMATE BUSTER MEMES

normal spongebob

[ladylilithprime]

61+Sabriel for the kiss prompts, please?

61. Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp

THE FIRST TIME Castiel brought Gabriel to Sam’s bed, it was out of desperation. Metatron had resurrected the Archangel, but kept him captive and hobbled, and it had taken an extremely risky plan involving Cas cutting out his borrowed Grace long enough to rescue Gabriel and then Hannah hauling both of them back to Lebanon and the Bunker. Castiel had used a very credible imitation of Sam’s puppy eyes on Dean to let him get the drained and unconscious Archangel inside the Bunker’s wards, but with Sam he used logic. Human souls are powerful, and neither he nor Gabriel possessed a soul inside their vessels, and the proximity to Sam during those long weeks of convalescence had done wonders for Castiel’s recovery, asking Dean to do it was hardly a good idea with the Mark still on his arm, Sam didn’t need to do anything and Castiel promised he would stay right there and keep an eye on things to make sure Gabriel didn’t do anything if he woke….

The “if” was the deciding factor, ultimately, and Sam fell asleep on one side of the bed with Gabriel passed out on the other and Castiel perched on the foot of the bed watching them both. For the next four days, Sam would go about his day as per usual, though he found himself spending more time in his room with his research than the library, and at night he would fall asleep next to Gabriel, trusting Castiel to keep watch for anything wrong. More and more, however, Sam could admit that the “anything wrong” was anything preventing Gabriel’s recovery. Sam might still have quite a few trust issues when it came to the being who had put him through his own personal Hell long before Lucifer ever got popped out of the box, but Dean not remembering and also knowing that he’d been trying to prevent the box from popping made it easier to forgive.

On the fifth day, Sam woke to find a pair of whiskey-gold eyes staring at him from about six inches away. He blinked. Gabriel was still awake and staring at him, and didn’t appear to have moved in the slightest. Somewhat at a loss, and not entirely awake himself, Sam asked, “Feeling any better?”

Gabriel disappeared without a word, the only sign he’d been there the slowly settling sheets.

THE SECOND TIME was the same night. Castiel showed up at the Bunker door, once more mostly carrying the weakened Archangel. This time, however, Gabriel was awake and surly about it, meaning Dean was even less inclined to let him in until Sam came up behind him to see what was going on. Gabriel’s expression went blank so quickly that Dean actually blinked.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said as calmly as he could manage, as if it was perfectly expected for their seraph friend to show up on their doorstep with a recalcitrant Archangel. “Usual room is free. Need a hand?”

“I have him, thank you, Sam,” Castiel answered, hefting Gabriel a little higher so that the Archangel’s feet were left dangling above the ground as Castiel stepped around Dean and carried his older brother into the Bunker. “Now that he is awake, he should probably eat something sugary to help replenish his pagan energies.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Sam promised as they disappeared down the hall.

“Really, Sam? You that eager to play Florence Nightingale for the pixie?” Dean griped, earning him a classic “don’t be a dick” bitchface from Sam in response. “Whatever, just don’t be stealing my pie to feed him.”

Sam flipped him off and grabbed his coat to go into town. It was his turn to make a grocery run anyway, and while Dean might not appreciate cake, he had a feeling that Gabriel would be more receptive.

He was back an hour later with his preferred selection of fresh fruit and vegetables along with a large packet of ground beef and, to help placate his brother, the last plate of pecan pie from the bakery near the grocery store. Putting the perishables away in the refrigerator and leaving the pie on the kitchen table, Sam carried the last bag containing the plastic cake box down the hall towards his room. He could hear the harsh, gutteral Enochian with ringing overtones even through the closed door, and had to swallow back a flare of panic before he could knock. The voices - and he tried not to think about how he could distinguish the differences between Castiel’s Voice and Gabriel’s - fell blessedly silent, and he took that as the signal to open the door, tossing the bag gently onto the bed by Gabriel’s knee as he crossed to his dresser.

There was a pause, then the rustling crinkle of a plastic bag being moved, either pulled closer or opened, and then Gabriel’s almost incredulous drawl of, “Angel food cake? Seriously?”

“They were out of Death By Chocolate,” Sam said evenly in a credible imitation of Castiel’s deadpan tone.

There was a moment of silence, and then Gabriel said, somewhere between weary and amused, “Touche, kiddo.” It was the first thing the Archangel had said to him since before his death, and Sam tried not to think to closely about why his gut clenched. He found his pajamas and turned to head back out of the room when Gabriel called out, “Sam… thanks.”

Sam felt the heat creeping up his neck into his face and forced himself to keep breathing. He’d never heard Gabriel say that before, certainly not to him. He glanced back in uncertainty, only to find Gabriel watching him with a quietly intent expression that was almost worse than the blankness from before. For one gut-twisting moment he wished he hadn’t let his hair grow out so long that he couldn’t hide behind his bangs any more– Gabriel wasn’t thanking him for the cake, and Sam couldn’t wrap his head around what else it might be, because it wasn’t like he’d really done anything.

Haltingly, he mumbled something that he hoped would pass for some sort of acknowledgement and fled to the bathroom down the hall. He stayed there for several minutes just relearning how to breathe, and then several more minutes once he was in the shower just letting the Bunker’s water pressure beat the tension out of his back and shoulders until he thought he could go back to his room without ending up a stammering mess.

He hadn’t needed to worry. When he returned to his room, dressed in pajamas and carrying his other clothes, both Gabriel and Castiel were thoroughly engrossed in watching… Sam glanced at the screen, since the volume was turned down to angel levels, and blinked. Were they really watching Downton Abbey? He glanced at the angels in question and noticed the slight twitches and flickers in their expressions indicating a more telepathic conversation going on, and decided he was probably better off not knowing. Dropping his clothes into the hamper in his closet, he hesitated only a moment before sliding into bed next to Gabriel and turning over to sleep with a mumbled, “G’night, Cas, Gabe.”

“Good night, Sam,” Castiel answered, just above Gabriel’s own quiet murmur of, “Night, kiddo.”

Once again, Gabriel was gone in the morning.

THE THIRD TIME, Castiel showed up with Gabriel’s arm draped over his shoulders and the Archangel clutching at his bloodsoaked side. Dean didn’t even bother with a token protest, just let them in the door and yelled for Sam to get the first aid kit. Sam met them in his room, an old towel already laid out over the bed to catch the blood, and set to work cleaning and stitching the deep gouges that looked suspiciously like claw marks while Castiel hovered near the bed in case he had to hold Gabriel down.

“What the hell even happened?” Dean asked, more aggressively than Sam really felt was warranted. From the glance Gabriel and Castiel exchanged before the Archangel had to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a few minutes, they agreed with him.

“Scratch Abaddon off the list,” Gabriel managed around his gritted teeth. “Had to take care of that while I’m still low-powered so as not to give away my survival to Metadouche. If we’re lucky, he’ll think Dean-o here took her out with the power boost from that nasty little murder mark on his arm and I’ll have enough time to recharge and plan a proper trap for him.”

“You took her on without telling us?” Dean asked, sounding somewhere between angry and hurt. He’d gotten the damn Mark in order to be able to wield the First Blade so he could take on Abaddon, after all. “You could have at least taken us along for back-up!”

“No offense meant,” Gabriel gritted out, “but you two chuckleheads are a bit out of your league when it comes to a Knight of Hell. Technically the Princes and Dukes are stronger, but the Knights are much more vicious fighters since that was pretty much their whole job description.”

“What about Lilith and Alistair?” Dean countered, ignoring the way Sam went still. “Sammy killed those two just fine.”

“While jacking up my powers with demon blood,” Sam ground out, not looking up at any of the three in the room. “And Lilith wasn’t exactly fighting back all that much. Thanks so much for bringing that up, Dean, really.”

“Sam…” Dean started, caught somewhere between frustration and apology.

Sam wasn’t done. “Of course, I haven’t actually used my powers at all since Famine, unless you count what happened in Stull or kicking Gadreel out of my head. I’m a little out of practice in killing demons with my mind, even without the need to lock me up in the dungeon for four days to detox after the fact.”

“Wait, what?!” Gabriel interrupted, his sharp incredulity causing Sam to flinch. “You don’t detox from anything by locking someone up and leaving them, especially not demon blood! For Dad’s sake, you could have killed him!”

“At least he would have died human!” Dean said defensively. Sam hunched in on himself and refused to look up from his careful stitching, hearing again the echoes of Dean’s cold voice speaking those same words to Bobby all those years ago along with “monster” and “vampire” and “there’s no going back.”

“Cassie, tell me I’m not hearing this,” Gabriel was saying, his blood-coated hand clenching and flexing just within Sam’s line of sight. “Lie to me if you have to.”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Castiel answered, sounding genuinely regretful. “I’m a terrible liar.”

“Ugh!” Gabriel made a brief, aborted move to lift his hand, apparently changing his mind when he caught sight of his blood covering it. When he spoke next, his tone was measured and even and practically arctic. “Look, you arrogant, self-Righteous Man, demon blood isn’t like heroin addiction. The stuff attacks on a spiritual level, ripping into the soul of the person who got conned into drinking it and leaving it shredded as if Alistair had gotten a hold of it for a decade or five. Assuming the person in question has as bright and pure a soul as Sam-a-lam here, that shredded soul gets taken up to Heaven, only to be shunted over to a recovery wing where the Rit-Zien, under the command of Raphael, are supposed to be taking care of piecing together damaged souls so that they don’t automatically reject their personal Heavens.” Somewhat sarcastically, he added, “What, exactly, do you think Raph would have done to your brother’s soul up there?”

“Cas….?” Dean asked shakily. Sam could almost hear the pleading that his brother wouldn’t voice, begging Castiel to tell him that Gabriel was wrong. Castiel sighed and, after a long moment, answered with a kind of weary resignation.

“Raphael would not have been kind, by any stretch of the imagination,” the seraph admitted. “Zachariah’s manipulations of your shared Heaven were bad enough when it was the both of you sent up with you, Dean, being protected as Michael’s intended Vessel. Sam was afforded no such protections on his own, given the attitude many angels held towards him at the time, and so would likely have been subjected to further tortures.”

That explains a lot, Sam thought to himself, more resigned than anything over the confirmation that Heaven had consistently rejected him. The idea that his soul could ever be described as “pure” was laughable, of course, but shredded… that wasn’t the first time he’d heard that.

The silence became heavy, and then there was the rustling of Castiel’s coat as he moved. Sam went still when the seraph’s hand appeared in his line of sight near his arm, forcing his hands not to move so as not to pull or jerk at the unfinished stitches in Gabriel’s side. The hand hovered, as if giving him time to see and acknowledge it, and then dropped to rest lightly on Sam’s arm. Sam didn’t move, could barely even bring himself to breathe, and the hand shifted as Castiel stepped up close behind Sam and gently wrapped his arms around him.

“I wondered,” Castiel said from somewhere above Sam’s head, his soft voice aching with sorrow. “When you rejoined Dean, after your separation following the confrontation with War, there were stresses on your soul, which I attributed to Lucifer’s visiting your dreams. How many times?”

“Seven,” Sam admitted, barely above a whisper. The angel’s arms tightened around him and he swallowed. “I figured if Dean didn’t want me around and wasn’t going to follow through on his promise to kill me himself, the least I could do was make sure Lucifer couldn’t take his true Vessel. Lucifer claimed he brought me back every time, but I guess it could have just been the other angels kicking me out after expressing their displeasure over me not playing my role like a good little abomination.”

Castiel made a soft, wounded noise and laid his cheek against the top of Sam’s head as his hold on Sam got even tighter. Sam clenched his jaw against voicing his physical discomfort, reaching up with the hand not holding the needle to touch one of Castiel’s hands briefly in silent apology before he bent back to the task of stitching up Gabriel’s wounds. He had to pause again when the hand Gabriel had twisted in the sheet came up and gently covered his, looking up in uncertainty to see the Archangel watching him with a hooded, pained expression in his golden eyes.

“Of all the things I’ve done to you…” Gabriel started, then trailed off with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s not…” Sam stopped and swallowed back his automatic response, trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, Raphael pretty much just wanted to destroy humanity, especially towards the end. You just wanted it to be over so you didn’t have to keep watching your brothers fight.”

“Still,” Gabriel murmured, not looking any happier. He looked like he might have said more, except Dean finally found his voice again, drawing everyone’s attention once more.

“Sammy?” he asked, voice shaking and small. “All this time… have you really been thinking I was going to kill you?“

“Not… exactly,” Sam winced. He really didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not right now with his hands covered in Gabriel’s blood, but he wasn’t going to lie to Dean. “I mean, much as I hate those damn books, reading them kind of helped put some things in perspective, gave me a little more information, so I know the voicemail I got from you before Ilchester wasn’t the one you left–”

“Wait, what?” Dean interrupted, starting to frown. “You didn’t get–”

“I doubt I was supposed to,” Sam broke in, his tone matter of fact as he lowered his eyes back to his work, making neat, efficient work of the last set of stitches. “Heaven and Hell both wanted me off the rails and killing Lilith, so Zachariah changing the message to push me past my breaking point isn’t that much of a surprise.”

“…What did the message say?” Dean asked, low and almost dangerous, his tone very similar to the one he used to get whenever something was threatening Sam, before everything literally went to Hell.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. He didn’t really see how it could.

“Yes it matters if it made you think I’d want to kill you!” Dean spluttered, a note of fear edging along the blustering anger.

“Like you calling me a monster to my face, or saying that if you didn’t know me you’d want to hunt me? That Dad said to save me or kill me? That I’m a freak? ‘If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back’?” Sam shook his head and carefully tied off the thread and snipped the needle free, setting both needle and scissors aside as he said, “The voicemail didn’t say anything I hadn’t already heard from you before, it just lumped it all together at once. Neosporin.”

Castiel untangled one arm from around Sam’s shoulders and plucked up the little tube of antibiotic ointment from where it rested on the bed just out of Sam’s reach. Sam took it, brushing his fingers along Castiel’s in silent thanks. He wasn’t even surprised by the slight tingle of Grace from Castiel that left his hands free of blood when he opened the tube and squeezed out a generous amount onto the palm of his hand.

“You know I don’t actually need that,” Gabriel said. His voice sounded only a little bit dubious, like he was trying to hide his skepticism.

“The less your Grace has to do to maintain your Vessel, the faster you will recover,” Sam recited, his lips twitching slightly as he heard Castiel echoing the litany from the early days of his own convalescence. Even Dean snickered a little at their Greek chorus impression. It didn’t last long, and a moment later Dean was saying Sam’s name in a wounded, unhappy tone.

“Dean,” Castiel said, a note of warning in his usually implaccable tone. “While I was aware of the discrepancies between the message you left and the message Sam received, I believed, perhaps erroneously, that the two of you would discuss the message at some point. Perhaps my own efforts on behalf of Heaven contributed to your refusal to talk to Sam honestly, but you did not. You simmered and snapped, at Sam and at me, and if as Sam says the words he heard were not wholly unexpected he would not have wished to bring it up in case ‘reminding’ you of ‘your’ words made you decide to kill your brother after all.”

“Pretty much,” Sam admitted. He dipped his first two fingers into the ointment to test whether it had warmed enough from his body heat. “That and I read the books while I was soulless, so I wasn’t going to risk bringing it up when you were treating me more like a thing than a person.”

“That wasn’t you,” Dean started, but Sam shook his head.

“You keep saying that, but you’re still doing it,” he said, weariness creeping into his tone despite his best efforts. “You’re still treating me like a disappointment at best and a burdensome pet at worst, and whatever that Mark is doing to you really isn’t helping.” He sighed. “Look, can we… table this for a moment? I need to concentrate for a minute, here.”

“Since when do you need to concentrate to apply antibiotic ointment?” Dean muttered, voice sulky but subdued. Sam ignored him, turning his attention partially inward as he brought his ointment covered fingers down to the first of the stitched scratches. Light bloomed before his eyes, twisting and fluttering, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from gasping or worse, screaming. His chest ached as he tugged internally, but one of the tattered filaments lifted up to slide down the length of his arm and out to the tips of his fingers as he began to spread the ointment, tracing Gabriel’s injuries slowly with the thin unravelled tendril of his soul.

Castiel gasped and tightened his arms around Sam, but otherwise held himself rigidly still at Sam’s back. Beneath Sam’s hand, Gabriel’s stomach muscles trembled, but the Archangel didn’t make a sound that Sam could perceive with his ears. Dimly he thought he heard Dean demanding for Castiel to tell him what was wrong, what was going on, what was Sam doing….

Sam just managed to reach the end of the final wound with the last of the ointment before darkness closed in on him and he slumped across the bed and Gabriel’s legs, unconscious.

THE FOURTH TIME was technically a continuation of the third, but it was still Sam and Gabriel sharing a bed due to Castiel’s actions so Sam was counting it. Rather than placing Gabriel in Sam’s bed as the Archangel was already there, however, Castiel had moved the unconscious hunter to lie beside Gabriel. Sam woke some time later to discover that he had rolled in his sleep to cuddle up close against Gabriel’s side with one hand tangled in his shirt. His attempt to disengage himself from Gabriel’s clothing drew said Archangel’s attention away from the flickering television screen.

For a long moment, hunter and Archangel stared at each other, each with their thoughts carefully hidden behind mental shields and controlled expressions. Unlike the usual silences between Sam and Dean, however, this time it was Sam who spoke first. “How’re you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that,” Gabriel said after several moments of just blinking at Sam in incredulity. “Do I even want to ask where the hell you learned how to do that incredibly dangerous trick of yours?”

“Probably not,” Sam mumbled, eyes darting down and away to study the newly fascinating weave of the blanket. “It helped a little, though… didn’t it?”

“It helped a lot, kiddo,” Gabriel admitted, making Sam smile. The smile fell again when the Archangel continued, “it also scared me and Cassie half to death, and almost finished the job when you passed out without cutting the connection first. Cassie had to take your brother off to go make food or something so he wouldn’t do anything stupid like try to wake you up.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that, since Dean probably won’t,” Sam sighed, picking at a loosened thread in the blanket. It probably wouldn’t even occur to Dean how dangerous trying to wake him could be. Sam’s reflex grab for a weapon upon being awakened suddenly would only have been magnified by the connection Sam had been maintaining with his soul when he passed out. Just because he never consciously used his demon powers anymore didn’t mean they were gone….

“You do know your powers aren’t actually demonic, right?”Sam shot a half-hearted scowl in Gabriel’s direction, but the Archangel lifted both hands in placation.“Not eavesdropping, promise,” he assured Sam. “Just, you kinda crashed your usual walls with that stunt earlier and you’re projecting a bit.”

“Sorry,” Sam muttered, glancing down again as he tries to pull himself together a bit more. He jumped when one of Gabriel’s hands covered his on the blanket, swallowing tightly as he glanced up through the fall of his hair.

“Take it easy for a bit, huh?” Gabriel murmured, his face doing something weird that might have been an expression of concern. “You overshot the mark trying to fix up Abaddon’s little papercuts and brought me back to nearly half-strength in one go. You can take a little time for yourself to rest and relax.” Golden eyebrows quirked upwards as Gabriel added, “You do at least remember how to do that, right?”

“Might be a little rusty,” Sam found himself admitting with a rueful little half-hearted chuckle. It faded quickly into a despondent sigh. They hardly ever seemed to get any breathing room lately, just one thing after another after another clusterfuck. He wasn’t about to say so and risk annoying the Archangel with his whining.

“Given everything Cassie told me about that’s happened and a few other things I kinda extrapolated from the gaps, I think you’ve more than earned the right to whine a bit, kiddo,” Gabriel told him in frank tones, squeezing his hands gently before letting go and slumping back down onto the bed. “Also, still not eavesdropping. Your powers - which, as I said, are not actually demonic in origin - make you a little louder than most humans when you don’t have your shields up. You’ve got some pretty impressive ones, too, by the way.”

“Thanks?” Sam stammered, even less sure of what to do with Gabriel’s compliments than he was with Gabriel’s apology or expressions of gratitude. From the tinge of sadness that entered Gabriel’s expressive golden eyes, the Archangel probably knew it, too.

“We’ll work on it,” came the only somewhat disconcerting promise. “For now, you should probably eat some of whatever that is the Dean-Bean just finished cooking for you. Smells like burgers,” he added when Sam eyed the door as if unsure he really wanted it to open. “Cassie promised to bring food to us so we don’t have to go anywhere.”

Well, okay, it’s not like Dean’s burgers weren’t all kinds of amazing since they’d moved into the Bunker and his brother had started “nesting” as he called it, and if Sam was completely honest the idea of getting out of bed was less than appealing just at that moment. Mindful of his apparently lowered mental shields, Sam refrained from allowing himself to think at all about why that was the case, even if it still felt odd to just lie in bed next to an Archangel and wait to be waited on by his best friend who also happened to be an angel. His life was surreal.

Castiel’s arrival moments later with a large platter of burgers saved Sam from having to find a way to answer out loud. The platter was set down between Sam and Gabriel’s knees, and Castiel took up his accustomed position at the foot of the bed facing them. Sam even managed to eat two full burgers and half of a third before his stomach protested the idea of trying for more, at which point Gabriel leaned over and took a bite out of the remaining half while it was still in Sam’s hand. Sam rolled his eyes and handed the rest of his burger over before allowing himself to slump back down into his bed’s embrace. It was probably just Gabriel’s suggestion that he was allowed to relax, but a nap was sounding really good to Sam right about then.

And if Castiel thought anything about Sam rolling into Gabriel’s side to cuddle before he was technically fully asleep, well, the seraph mercifully said nothing.

WHEN GABRIEL APPEARED in Sam’s bed the fifth time, three days after the death of Abaddon, Castiel was conspicuously absent. In fact, from the way Gabriel was glaring at a rumpled spot of blanket near the foot of the bed, Sam suspected that Castiel had deliberately popped out (or gone invisible with intent to sneak out, given the Bunker’s wards) only moments before he’d entered his room. Why, however, was still a mystery, so Sam went ahead and stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him.“Everything okay?”

“Peachy,” Gabriel muttered on the end of an irritated sigh. His eyes tracked something that Sam couldn’t see with his normal vision, and Sam deliberately didn’t Reach to look for, until “whatever it was” reached the door. Sam gave it to the mental count of five before he gently nudged the door closed with his foot. There was a soft thump and a muffled curse right before the door clicked shut. Sam barely managed to meet Gabriel’s eyes before the both of them were snickering like naughty school children who had just gotten away with a prank.

The shared amusement couldn’t quite disguise the lines of stress around Gabriel’s eyes and mouth, however, and Sam found his feet carrying him to the edge of the bed opposite where Gabriel was half-reclined. He sat sideways on the bed, facing wall and Archangel, and steeled his nerves. “So. I’m guessing from that little display of his typical subtlety, Cas thinks we need to talk?”

“I’d ask how you guessed, but I bet Dean made some comment to you to that effect?” When Sam nodded, Gabriel sighed again more deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a very human gesture of an impending headache. “Our brothers are conniving together.”

“Beats Dean sniping and Cas giving him the cold shoulder,” Sam shrugged. His fingers twitched to start picking at the blanket and he made himself fold his hands in his lap instead. “I’m guessing that talk you had with him a couple of days ago is why Dean’s being so conscientious of his anger management and personal safety now?”

“It may be a factor,” Gabriel admitted, offering his own shrug. “The last thing any of us needs is him biting it while that Mark has a hold on him. ‘Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell’ isn’t really a title he wants to aspire to any more than ‘brother-killer’, which, by the way, I didn’t mention that last one. Cain told him that, something about living Cain’s life in reverse.”

“I guess he would know,” Sam muttered. Suddenly Dean’s reaction to finding out about the voicemail and Sam’s subsequent expectation of death at his brother’s hand made a lot more sense if he was already afraid of exactly that. “So. Talk?”

“Talk,” Gabriel confirmed. He tilted his head to give Sam a slantwise look. “What’s the bet that our darling interfering brothers also gave us completely different topics to talk about?”

“My bet’s on half-and-half,” Sam said after a moment of consideration. If Castiel was trying to be sneaky and subtle, then he’d been talking to Dean about this a little too much, which probably meant… “We were each given two conversation topics, one that matches up and one that differs.”

“Usual stakes?” Gabriel asked, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes.

Sam, who had read up on Norse mythology after the showdown at the Elysian Fields hotel and the deaths of so many pagan gods (including Gabriel) at Lucifer’s hands, made a face and shook his head. “No thanks. I’m sure she’s nice enough, but I’m not interested in marrying Freya.”

Gabriel let out a bark of laughter. “Fair enough! Eh, I’ll think of something…” With almost studious casualness, he added, “Cassie wanted me to talk to you about the plan to take down Metatron and get your opinion on Gadreel. And he may also have mentioned that he thinks I should tell you all about how I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Sam blinked. He couldn’t have heard that right… except there was a faint dusting of pink across Gabriel’s cheekbones like some artist’s rendering of a delicate blush, and it could have been a trick… but it could have also been Gabriel deliberately mimicking human body responses to give Sam the clues he was more used to gathering. He swallowed, forcing himself to keep his tone as light and casual as the Archangel’s had been. “Huh. Dean told me to talk to you about my reckless, passively suicidal tendencies - which, sure, I will when he does, the hypocrite - and about the giant crush he’s only just now noticing I have on you even though it’s been there since we met in that university in Ohio.” He hesitated as Gabriel blinked at him in apparent shock, then blurted out in a burst of awkward curiosity, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Thought you hated me,” Gabriel answered, after a long moment of soundless jaw movement that failed to produce words. “I certainly gave you enough cause to, or thought I did…. Why didn’t you?”

“Hate you or say anything?” It was a necessary clarification to make, but Gabriel only shrugged. No help there. Sam sighed and tried to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. “Look, I…. even before I knew about the demon blood in me, I’ve always felt… wrong inside. And there you were, cute and funny and flirting with me…. It was almost a relief when you turned out to be what we were hunting, except then you threw the fight. Don’t give me that look, you totally did. Two clumsy chainsaw killers and a couple of porn stars, after you made that kid think he was abducted by aliens?

“And then when Dean stabbed you, or I guess an illusion of you, the fighter props disappeared but the bed and disco ball didn’t, and I don’t know if Bobby noticed but I know Dean didn’t.” Sam paused, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t just tell Dean we hadn’t killed you, and not just because of the allegations against that professor that turned up after he was dead and couldn’t threaten his victims into silence anymore. By the time it hit me, we were on a werewolf case and I was so distracted I ended up… um, personally finding the second werewolf.”

“Gotta admit I’m curious what your reason was, if you really knew I wasn’t dead,” Gabriel said, only the slightest shifting to give away his discomfort at hearing Sam’s near-confession to sleeping with Madison because of it.

“You reminded me of Jess,” Sam said, low voiced and strained. “Your upbeat nature, your humor, your smile… even your work as a trickster, I mean, there’s a few seriously humbled jocks from Stanford with a healthy respect for Jess’s temper and her vengeance streak. Making that connection, realizing why I kept quiet and had to keep staying quiet… it almost felt like driving away from our apartment all over again. Confronting you the second time in Broward County? That was like watching her die, pinned to the ceiling and burning to death because Hell’s plans for me didn’t include happiness.”

One of Gabriel’s hands came into view. Sam watched as it hovered, just like Castiel had done three nights ago, and then dropped to rest on top of one of Sam’s own hands. Sam couldn’t help the soft huff of barely there laughter at Gabriel mimicking Castiel’s care to only touch Sam with his awareness and permission, and turned his hand over to lace their fingers together.. Permission granted.

He was immediately tugged forward to rest against Gabriel’s chest, the Archangel’s free arm coming up to wrap around Sam’s shoulders and pull him close. Sam sucked in a breath, nearly overwhelmed by the way Gabriel’s Grace seemed to surround him all at once, a tidal wave of light and warmth a hundred times stronger than he had ever felt from Castiel. It took him several precious seconds to remember to keep breathing, and then he was being surrounded all over again with the scent of Gabriel, the scent of ozone and vanilla and cinnamon that clung to his sheets and pillows when the Archangel disappeared.

“I didn’t know what to expect from you that first time we met,” Gabriel was saying, his chest vibrating pleasantly real and alive where it pressed against Sam. “I knew who the Vessels were supposed to be, obviously, and there would have been some parallels inasmuch as possible given the species difference. I almost didn’t put out the signal to catch your notice, but I had to see… I had to know. And then…” Gabriel swallowed and laughed a little, a weak and fluttering sound. “Then I met you, and you were everything Lucifer used to be before he was corrupted and more! Brighter, fiercer, more vibrantly angry but not ruled by that anger.

“I knew going in to that time loop that I’d end up hurting you, but I didn’t realize how bad. I made the mistake of thinking of you and Dean and Lucifer and Michael in human form. Lucifer would have given up after a hundred. You never did.” There was more than a hint of apology in Gabriel’s tone that made Sam’s chest ache. “And then those six months after, watching you fall into the darkness that anyone else with destiny’s deck stacked against them the way it was for you would have already been at and knowing that it was my fault, that I was the one responsible for drowning your light– mmf!”

Sam’s hands refused to budge from where they were clutching Gabriel’s jacket, so he stopped the flood of words from the Archangel’s lips with his own. Gabriel’s startled yelp gave way to a low moan as he opened to Sam readily, and the hunter wasted no time in deepening the kiss. Vanilla and cinnamon and sugar hit his tongue with the first swipe into Gabriel’s mouth, and he might have said something about how it just figured that Gabriel would taste like Snickerdoodles if Sam hadn’t been entirely too busy with kissing him to comment. One of his hands found its way beneath the back of Gabriel’s jacket to drag his fingernails across the dip in his spine just above the waistband of his jeans and Gabriel broke the kiss with a gasp, drawing back just enough to stare wide-eyed up into Sam’s face, chest heaving for breath he didn’t need.

“Is there anything else we really need to talk about right this second?” Sam asked, just as breathless, fingertips stroking over that spot which had garned him such a strong reaction. Because he really wanted to defer any other talking until later.

Later, he could explain about all the ways he had come to love and admire Gabriel for himself, as more than just a reminder of Jess, even before he had ever known the “trickster” who was probably also a pagan god was originally an angel.

Later, they could talk through Sam’s self-loathing and feelings of loss and betrayal and anguish that kept him from sleeping most nights his bed went unoccupied by Gabriel beside him.

Later, they could find Dean and Castiel and talk about the plan to take down Metatron and literally anything else, but right now? Right now, through Castiel’s connivance, Sam had Gabriel all to himself, his feelings laid bare and somehow, bewilderingly, miraculously returned, and Sam didn’t want to spend that time talking.

“Nah, we’re good,” Gabriel agreed, a little dazed and a little amused  and a lot eager if the way he was pulling Sam back in was anything to go by. Not that Sam was resisting at all. Or complaining.

They still got a little noisy.

AFTER THE SIXTH time, Sam stopped keeping count.

-End-

[taotrooper]

You know that post about immortals missing important history points?

Considering Yoon is pretty interested in history, and Zeno has gone through all of Kouka’s, I imagine the boy asks him a lot and frequently gets disappointed.

“Zeno, what do you think about king Dae-guan?” “Mmm? Who’s that?” “What do you mean who?! He was the most famous monarch of the second Fire dynasty!” “Aaaah, the chubby one with the bushy beard?” “...I guess you could describe him like that.” “Well, he threw some pretty great festivals and he made the pointy shoulder pads on capes a trend. I heard he really liked apple candy, farted a lot, and had like seven dogs.” “That’s what you remember about a legendary king. Wonderful.”

“Hey Zeno, what side did you take in the Yusa civil war?” “Both were dumb.” “Ah.” “I took out a troop that was bullying and pillaging villagers, but I can’t recall if they were realists or separatists. There were jerks in both sides.” “Fair enough, I guess.”

“How about the War of the Peonies?” “What about the War of the Peonies, Lad?” “Did you get involved in it?” “Naaaah. Zeno spent that entire century moping in the woods so I missed everything. Next time I went to a town, the grandpas were talking about it and I was so confused. Zeno even thought it was a kind of game with flowers!” “...I’m going to do the laundry now.”

“Did you even know about the Dragon Decrees?” “Actually, Zeno helped to inspire more than half of those!” “Wait, really?! How?!” “Zeno worked for that king back then.” “You were King Min’s adviser? That’s so cool! I knew you couldn’t have been a useless forest vagabond for 2000 years!” “Well, I wasn’t his adviser but his stable boy. Zeno took care of his horses.” “WAIT! How the heck does a servant get to influence law-making?!?” “King-niichan was really young, dumb, and easily manipulated. We talked a lot. Good thing I managed to become his friend before someone evil took advantage, right?” “So Min the Wise, the most cunning monarch in 1000 years, was you ruling the country from the shadows. I’m... kind of impressed and underwhelmed at the same time.” “He needed a lot of hugs. The horsies were well taken care of, too!”

“Oi, Zeno. Were you in the great Fuuga fire that happened 300 years ago?” “Yup, Mister! In fact Zeno was!" “Were you saving people like with princess Tao?” “Sorta. I mean, I tried and rescued a few kids and old people, but at some point I blacked out inside a house and I woke up 5 days later between the rubble, naked, found by some people. Their soup and sake we had for dinner were great.” “I’m not telling this one to Yoon. He’s not going to like it.”

“Zeno?” “Yes, Miss!” “Did you get to meet Lee Ayame?” “Who?” “A poetess and musician! She wrote a lot of songs and poems in the Golden Era.” “...Zeno doesn’t read a lot.” “...But you’ve heard of The Nightingale Fan, right? It’s a classic book and theater play!” “Oh! Oh yeah, they sold a lot. Especially between middle-class students and housewives. Young girls loved the romance and the characters, young boys the sword duels and dick jokes. Old people criticized it and mocked it a lot, though.” “B-but it’s a classic now... Scholars and nobles keep talking about the metaphors...” “Metaphors? Nah, it was trashy fun for the masses. Nothing wrong with that!” “Oh gods, my tutor would cry if he knew.”

“Zeno? Is there anything about King Hiryuu’s myth that was wrong in reality?” “Kija, he’s going to say something frustrating.” “I need to know, Yoon!” ”...You know what? Tell him, Zeno. I want to hear this, too.” “Ah? Yeah! Plenty of stuff, in fact. For instance, he actually wasn’t too tall. Around Hakuryuu’s height, maybe?” “Zeno, that’s not what I meant...” “His hair was much luscious in person than in the art, however.” “That’s not what I meant!”

“Zeno-kun, was Lady Lin really Prince Sejon’s lover?” “I don’t know who those people are, Ryokuryuu. Not even ringing a bell.” ”But they’re the greatest love story in--!” “Jae-ha, don’t bother. It was probably celebrity gossip back then.” “At least could you tell me in your opinion who were the most beautiful man and woman alive?” “Man is easy! King Hiryuu! About girls, Zeno’s type is tiny and cute so the tall sexy ladies do nothing for me. It’s a tie between my wife and the Miss for the prettiest!” “So, people you knew? You were right, Yoon-kun. I shouldn’t have bothered.”

[sorshania]

A question of Style

I totally blaming @bearly-tolerable​ for this. >3

**Set after the events of DAI but before Trespasser. Abelas and Lothuial are staying in Skyhold as the Inquisitor’s personal guests, until Leliana asks for Lothuial’s help to deal with some difficult dignitaries. 

Check at the end for the translation**

**************************************

Josephine stormed through the main hall of Skyhold, heading straight for the Inquisitor’s private quarters and paying little to no attention to the people jumping out of her path. The usually poised woman was furious, her eyes flaming as she muttered under her breath while clutching at her writing pad. “Inquisitor! This needs to stop!” she said, her voice ringing and her accent a little bit thicker due to her irritation, as she came up the stairs. Nysal and Leliana looked up at her, clearly surprised to see the Ambassador so… ruffled.

“My Lady Lavellan,” Josephine started, after catching her breath, and walked toward the desk, “I can deal with Sera’s lack of clean clothes, and I can deal with Cole’s strangeness. And I understand Serah Abelas and Lady Lothuial are staying here as your personal honored guests… But. This. Has to stop.” she repeated as she stopped in front of the Inquisitor.

“Josephine, slow down. I am not sure I follow you, what exactly has to stop? Has there been another incident?” Nysal asked, looking a bit worried. The last incident had been a little bloody after all. Not to mention all the feathers had to be cleaned off the roof.

“No, thanks the Maker. But, as of late, Lady Lothuial has been interrupting very delicate talks with difficult ambassadors and dignitaries.”

Nysal frowned and glanced at Leliana but the spymaster’s face remained inscrutable as she watched Josephine. The Inquisitor put her elbows on her desk and leaned forward, pressing her lips against her thumbs as she looked up at the Ambassador. “I find it difficult to believe.” she said after a time. “They both made it very clear they didn’t want to be a part of any of the current political games.”

“Yes, I am aware of that but…” Josephine stopped, searching for words.

“…But?” Nysal prompted, more and more worried. It wasn’t like the Ambassador to get so nervous.

“It started innocently enough.” Josephine said instead. “She could come to my office for a question about a package she would have received, while I was with the Fereldan dignitary. And she would only be wearing a robe.”

Nysal looked sharply at Leliana, who was concealing a small grin, and raised an eyebrow. Leliana just shook her head, her attention fully on Josephine. The Inquisitor looked back at the Ambassador, who was so incensed, she had not noticed the exchange between the two women.

“I’m guessing there is more to that.” Nysal said instead.

“Yes. Lady Lothuial has kept interrupting the meetings, each time wearing more and more revealing Orlesian lingerie, please don’t ask me how she got a hold of these, I have NO idea. It got to the point she asked the dignitary for his opinion. As he “clearly was a man of taste”.” Josephine said, quoting the elf. “I was afraid he would have an heart attack or worse!”

“And?”

“And… Nothing. Bann Vigard graciously said he was too overwhelmed to make a judgment and asked to be excused. He handed his resignation this morning, saying his nephew would take over.”

“Excellent.” Leliana commented softly.

“’Excellent’?” Josephine whirled toward the spymaster. “What exactly do you mean by “excellent”?”

“Bann Vigard was being difficult. He was also using both the Dalish clans and the city elves living on his bannorn, to portray himself as a defender of the elves so he could easily gain an audience with the Inquisitor, although there are numerous rumors he left the elves fend for themselves during the Blight. He had proven quite slippery however, and nothing could be proven.”

“…So you have asked Lady Lothuial to help have him resigned.” Josephine stated, quickly catching on. She had worked with Leliana before. She glanced at her writing pad and started jotting down some notes. “His nephew should prove to be more agreeable. He is at least more aware of the land, its peculiarities and its impact on the elves’ daily lives…” she mused out loud.

“And at the very least, his interests for Lady Lavellan will be more genuine than his uncle’s.” Leliana completed for her. “Meanwhile, Lady Lothuial gets to keep the garments. I believe she was very happy about this.”

Josephine simply nodded, writing down some more notes. “Do you think she would agree if I provided more names?”

“I’m positive she wouldn’t mind but you should ask her just in case. I will also need a copy of the list. I doubt I missed anyone but let’s make sure.”

“Of course.”

“Erm…. I’d like to know what is happening.” Nysal pipped in, looking at her spymaster and her ambassador in turn. The two women glanced at each other, before trying to answer at the same time.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

“My Lady, you have to understand…”

“Enough.” The word was soft spoken but still firm enough to silence both Leliana and Josephine. “I want to know what’s going on.” Nysal said.

Josephine wetted her lips, her pen poised in the air while Leliana frowned slightly.

“I think it’s best if you stay out of it for the moment. For neutrality’s sake.” The spymaster said at last, cutting Nysal’s objections short.

****

Abelas looked down at his list, reading it over one more time. Besides him, Varric was busy jotting down notes for his next book. The Sentinel wasn’t sure if it was for a new book or the sequel for the one Cassandra had lent him. He hoped it would be. He wasn’t quite pressuring the dwarf for it, but it was close. Abelas really wanted to know how the Guard Captain would get out of the current mess and restore her good name.

“You should get the silk one. She likes silk even if Canneroc doesn’t exist anymore.” Cole said, appearing beside them. “His fingers brushing against her skin, soft, before holding her close, as if she would disappear again. A caress. Making sure she’s still real.”

Abelas blinked. It had been a while since he interacted with spirits.

“The color is good.” Cole continued. “It’s your favorite. She wants you to be happy. Just like you want her to be.”

“Thank you for the suggestions, Kid.” Varric said, grinning, while Abelas wondered if he could die from embarrassment. “Do you want me to ask Nightingale to see if she could get you a catalog, Golden?”

“Shut up Durgen’len.”

“I like to help.” Cole said simply.

****

Even the Iron Bull started to make some suggestions. Few things escaped the ex Ben-Hassrath agent after all.

“No offense, Boss, but that frilly lace thing won’t cut it with these ones.” He said, one day, standing in front of the Inquisitor’s desk, while Lothuial was plowing through some big Tevinter History book Dorian claimed was moderately accurate. “I heard they are most peculiar and have seen everything and anything. They won’t bat an eyelash even if the design is pretty nice.”

“Bull, what the hell are you talking about?” Nysal asked absently, her nose deep in the latest report from Crestwood.  No matter how much she tried to keep her desk clean, and empty, new documents, requests and the likes kept getting piled on top. She idly wondered if she could ask Dorian to resurrect Corypheus or if they could find some new evil mastermind to fight. She could use the distraction.

“The two new envoys from Nevarra. I don’t know if you talked with Cassandra yet but you should know they are members of her family. Now, I don’t want you two to get too excited but I have an idea.”

There was a rustling sound, like a cloak being dropped, followed by Lothuial’s sharp yell. Surprised, Nysal looked up to see the other elf hiding her face in the thick book she had been reading. She glanced at the Iron Bull. And stared.

The Qunari was wearing a strange array of ropes, looped through small silver hoops, that was snaked around the Bull’s body. Her eyes followed down, admiring the strange knotted art, until…

“Fen’Harel’s Dick, Bull! What the…” Nysal quickly used the report she was holding to hide her flaming face. He was wearing nothing else but those strangely knotted ropes.

“You like it? I had it specially made in Qundalon. I’m sure they’ll accept to do a custom work for you, Lothuial, since you’re considerably smaller than me. If not, I think I can reproduce the design. You see, if you pull this…”

“Bull, stop! Please… Get… Put that cloak back on. I’m sure Josephine will be able to handle the Nevarran envoys herself.” Nysal said, still shielded by the report. Creators, she wished she could be back in the field, closing rifts.

****

Abelas grunted, waking up to the feeling a hand patting down his stomach.

What the…

The hand slid lower, grabbing him firmly.

OH!

He turned around, toward Lothuial lying behind him and froze.

She was asleep. A small frown marring her lips, as if she was trying to figure something out. He managed to catch some of the words she mumbled in her sleep.

“L'acd lunnald... L'acd iha puhha knuccain…”

“D'yc byc à d’ehxieédan.”

She suddenly patted him on his cheek.“I love you…” she mumbled before turning around.

Now, Abelas was quite confused. “Vhenan?” he asked, but only her snores answered him.

****

The strange antics continued for a few more weeks. No one knew when Lothuial would show up or who would be the intended target. It quickly involved more and more members of the Inner Circle into it while the Inquisitor to maintain as much as a straight face as she could. Even Sera took an interest, hanging in the Main Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the baffled nobles.

“Did you really ask the Duchesse of Baujac to actually touch whatever you were wearing? I never saw a noble scramble out of Josephine’s office so fast.” Nysal asked the dark-skinned elf sitting in front of the fire place, one evening, in the Inquisitor’s private quarters.

“A bit crude, I’ll admit, but very effective.” Lothuial grumpily touched her nose. “Ugh… I’ll never be warm again.” She complained, wrapping the fur blanket tighter around her. “I wonder if I should suggest fur lingerie to Leliana, unless her evil plans involve me freezing my butt off while terrorizing her enemies.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as calling them enemies.” Nysal said. “And I am not sure fur would be a good idea for… private garments… Just think of the chaffing... down there…”

“Hm… I was thinking more of a one-piece thing. Full body suit. With a bear headpiece. I would stand in a corner, not moving, until one those peacocks comes too close or says something stupid.”

“Compared to what you had been wearing earlier, it would be a vast improvement, my dear.”

Both elves turned around to see Vivienne standing at the top of the stairs. “Who ever designed these clearly had no idea of what they were doing. No sense of style or even shape. A figure like yours should be shown with pride, not buried under a ton of shapeless lace. Would you care for a suggestion, my dear?” the Enchanter said, stepping forward.

Lothuial and Nysal glanced at each other. “Lady Vivienne, I shall proudly whatever you wish to put me into as long as I can keep warm.” Lothuial said.

“Most excellent.” Vivienne purred. “Come and see me tomorrow. I shall introduce you to my personal seamstress. I am sure we can work something out.”

Nysal wisely kept her mouth shut and her nose in the report in front of her. One shopping to Orlais with the Iron Lady had been enough, thank you very much.

****

Abelas headed toward the room he shared with Lothuial. Usually, it was the night he spent with Varric, playing Wicked Grace and trading stories instead of money. Unless the Commander was present. He had been on his way to the Herald’s Rest when he spotted the runner with a very specific package, that bore the logo of the shop where he had sent his orders. Varric was most understanding. “I think you should head back upstairs, Golden. I doubt you’ll be able to focus much anyway.”

He knocked on the door. “It’s me.”

“… Come in.”

Lothuial was wearing what was in the package. Of course, it had her name on it but… He took a deep breath and slowly closed the door behind him. “You like it?” he asked.

“I do. The color is very pretty.”

“Very.”

“How did you know I liked silk?” she asked, slowly walking toward him.

“A… friend mentioned it.”

“Did he? A very observant friend you have then…” she said as she started toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Hm… You seemed to have had a very interesting month, helping Josephine and all.” He said, gently dragging his fingers up her sides.

“I did, but I told her this morning that I was done. So, this,” she said as she put her arms around his neck, “is for your eyes only.”

“I am flattered.” Abelas lowered his head to brush his lips against her cheek. “Maybe I should try it too… Running around half naked to scare the nobles seems to be… fun.”

“Hmmmm… If you do, you should speak with the Iron Bull. I heard he has some fascinating ideas.” She said against the corners of his mouth.

Abelas simply chuckled and ran down his hands to grab her butt, and firmly pressed her against his body. “Maybe I will…”

****************************

“L'acd lunnald... L'acd iha puhha knuccain…” - “It’s okay.... It’s a good size...”

“D'yc byc à d’ehxieédan.” - “Nothing to worry about...”

[up-one-cupcake]

The Case of the Missing Moolah

Here’s my entry for @shipwreckedcomedy‘s #FigAndFord fanfic contest! I’m not entirely happy with it (writing humour is hard you guys), but the deadline’s almost here so it’ll have to do.

If you can, please donate their kickstarter for ‘The Case of the Gilded Lily’!

She entered, pursued by a bear.

Well, not actually a bear – Eddie Vailstorm was certainly tall, and he had a considerable amount of hair, but he was definitely human, as was evidenced by the way he kept calling her name.

“Mary! Wait!”

Mary wove artfully amongst her other guests in an attempt to avoid that one in particular. Wisps of chatter rose from around her, indistinct through the flowers and sunlight that filled the garden.

She was a real knockout. In a pale blue chiffon dress that made her gams go on forever and a picture hat that just revealed the glint of her velvety dark eyes, Mary drew the gaze of every wolf and dolly around. She walked with casual purpose, curled hair bouncing with every step, fully aware that every person she passed was stuck on her.

This dame was no one’s sidecar. Her pull hadn’t been dulled by any honcho or sugar daddy – she was ritzy all on her own. Some of the lower-lifes muttered that she must be a cuddle cutie; surely no ordinary filly could become so rich without selling a little somethin’ on the side. Mary stepped over these accusations in black velvet heels, chin held high, because she and those that mattered to her knew that her megabucks were earned without any whoopee.

‘Course, that didn’t mean that they were pennies from heaven.

Mary paused in a quiet corner of the garden. After glancing around, she ducked quickly behind one of the fuller rose bushes and sighed deeply, pleased with her escape. The dark pink buds on the bush were almost blooming, and she bent to inhale one’s sweet scent.

“Fancy a jitterbug, baby doll? You seem like a real Ducky Shincracker.”

Mary spun around, finding herself mug to mug with the last man she wanted to see.

“This ain’t no place for you,” she whispered harshly, glancing around to ensure that they were alone. “Make tracks, Edward.”

The man’s eyes shifted from seductive to pinched with annoyance. “C’mon, sugar, you know that ain’t my name,” he said.

“Well I ain’t never heard any other long name for a man called Eddie,” Mary said hotly.

“There are many long names for Eddie.”

“Well ‘Edgrem’ ain’t one of them!”

“It’s French.”

Mary rolled her eyes forcefully. This wasn’t the time for this conversation.

Glaring fiercely into his crystal-grey eyes, she said, “Just scram, I have guests to attend to. This ain’t the time for me to booshwash with some copper.”

Instead of moving aside, he stepped closer. Mary moved back to keep a respectable amount of distance between them, and felt soft roses press into her back and her heel sink deep into the soil.

“Cool down, Cookie, I just want to talk.”

“Now look here Edgrem – ”

“I thought you hated my name.”

Mary exhaled angrily. “Eddie, I know you ain’t no crummy creep no matter how you’re acting now, but if the papers get the dope that Mary Gardenhouse was seen lip flappin’ with some cop then I'm done for. They already call me a gilly or a cold-fish or a golddigger, do y’ want to give them a reason to add crook to that list of titles? I already hired a gumshoe to track down my greenbacks, I don’t need you too!”

Eddie tapped two fingers under her chin. “C’mon now, Mary. No need to get some private dick involved. I can get you off the hook.”

Mary slapped his hand away. “Get lost, Eddie. Hang it up. We’ve both got enough problems without either one of us ending up slandered or in the joint.”

She started to walk away, but he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

“Wait ... no foolin’ now,” he said, and his eyes seemed to grow softer as he averted them. “I ain’t just here to offer my services. You ... you’re one fine dame, Mary, and I’d be nuts if I didn’t tell you how I feel about you, no matter how soppy it may sound.”

Any words she might have come up with got stuck half way up her throat, and he seemed to take her speechlessness as an invitation to continue.

“I’m dizzy for you Mary,” he said, grasping her shoulders with fervour. “You make me helpless and I know we might just kill each other by Sunday but by god it would be a glorious Saturday night.” He paused, thumbs brushing her skin under the shoulders of her dress. “And I know you’re the moll to some gangster, but –”

Mary pushed him in the chest, and he took an unsteady step back. “How dare you!” she cried, forgetting all about the guest scattered throughout the rest of the garden. “I ain’t no mobster’s squeeze!”

He raised his eyebrows infuriatingly. “C’mon dollface,” he said. “Don’t feed me that line.”

Mary swelled with indignation. She was done with this egg. Here he stood, making a pass at her at the same time as calling her a crook’s pick-me-up, and she felt like she might spew. Nothing was going to stop her from chewing him out any longer. He could just take his peepers off of her and skip, or so help her she might just slug him right in the kisser.

But before she could go fully cock-eyed and bust his chops, a voice called:

“Cut!”

Wilhelmina Vanderjetski sighed and blinked slowly, feeling the tension drip out of her shoulders like butter off of hot corn.

That’s a weird comparison to make, she thought. But I’m beat from filming and wearing hats and figuring out which bleedin’ chisel nabbed my gilded lily, so I guess it’ll do.

“Swell work Miss Vanderjetski,” the director said. “But the camera angle was all wet, let’s adjust and try it again.”

Without the camera’s filter, the light from the sun was hot and stifling, sitting like a weight on Wilhelmina’s head. She examined her flawless fingernails to avoid looking at her co-star. She could feel his gaze on her, but she was in no mood to continue their rhubarb from that morning.

He’s a pain in the neck, she thought, throwing him a dark glance, but that don’t mean I have to sing about it to the whole damn world.

She stood with a hand on one hip as her internal monologue continued. I feel bad for that Mary Gardenhouse. Sure, our problems are as different as a bush and a bull, but we’re both the glitterati and we could both go belly up with one wrong step.

“What’s eatin’ you?” a voice said, and Wilhelmina realised that the biddy who did her make-up was standing in front of her with a brush.

“Nothin’,” she replied, which was a lie. She was stuck in some real bad business with no one to help.

I need an ace investigator who can crack my case, she decided, eying her co-star’s flatfoot costume. Otherwise, I just might get booked.

The makeup girl finished and stepped away, but Wilhelmina kept her eyes closed. I’ll go watch that canary warble at the speakeasy tonight, she decided. Vivian Nightingale’s voice combined with a good glass of hooch never fails.

Wilhelmina straightened and opened her eyes, ready to once again step into the life of Mary Gardenhouse.

At least her tale has a happy ending, as these talkies tend to have, she thought. As for me ... Who’ll live? Who’ll die? Who’ll tell my story? 

[nordicdragonborn]

Faecclams and Dergenbrens

After chatting about OCs and various OC trends with a friend of mine that’s also on the shipyard, I felt compelled to make a post where I showboat explain further for the benefit of myself anyone that might stumble upon this post.

First a disclaimer: What you do with your original characters and how you design them are ultimately your business and you’re under no obligation to change anything if you don’t want to. As long as you’re having fun with your OC then you’re doing it right.

Now with that out of the way: Faceclaim happy OCs and Dragonborns that lead all of the factions are fucking dumb.

Truth be told, any kind of OC that’s the head of more than one guild faction is dumb but it seems to be more popular among Dragonborn or player character OCs when it comes to TES roleplay, so much so that Dragonborn OCs are often stigmatized by others and tend to have very little RP partners. I can’t say I’m surprised after having heard about some that went this route and became little more than specters shortly after and after hearing about said scenarios, I can’t say I blame them. There is potential to have an awesome OC that’s affiliated with multiple factions for whatever reason but being able to pull it off is very hard to do and most fail, you’re not Emperor Palpatine who was basically the only fucker able to rule multiple factions and get away with it. Basically when you structure your OC/Dragonborn to be the head of all the factions for whatever reason folks don’t tend to stick around, in fact they tend to find it fucking repellent.

I’ll even suggest that having your OC be the headmaster of a single faction is something I wouldn’t reccommend. It’s much more realistic than having them be the headmaster of all of the factions but you still run the risk of alienating OCs that are involved with the same faction, whether it be because they simply like the ingame headmaster like Kodlak/Savos/Astrid or for any other reason. Instead of having them be the Harbinger of the Companions or head of the Thieves Guild. A character’s relation with a faction can be central and have it work well, absolutely, but a better alternative would be to have them be a member of the Circle or a Nightingale or something similar. Hell, even having them be a lowly grunt or a fresh faced recruit has a lot of potential, I know I’d certainly be interested if I found an OC that was newly initiated in the Companions.

And now for another pet peeve of mine: Faceclaims. They’re just another tool in the toolbox and while they’re ok, the way I’ve seen them be used and abused makes me want to hate the damn things for all time. The biggest reason why is that a lot of people labor under the impression that using images/gifs of the faceclaims in as many posts as possible is good form but after seeing so many pictures of the same face, readers tend to just glaze over the OC itself and really who can blame them? At that point, the reader is so exposed to the same face and the same expressions that they’re ultimately rendered meaningless, and the connection between the images and the OC that they’re somehow likened to is utterly lost. This is to say nothing of how much of a pain in the ass it is to have to deal with said posts in one’s dashboard, I used to follow a few blogs that loved to include gifs of their faceclaims in a majority of their posts back when my internet connection was at it’s worst and it was beyond dreadful. I’ll agree it’s the user’s right to post what they want and use their own blog as they wish, but I’ll also suggest that they have a little bit of empathy for those that follow them with sub-par ISPs or bandwidth issues.

Also this is a part of the faceclaims rant but it really needs to be it’s own thing: Try and find a faceclaim that isn’t Emilia Clarke or Tom Hiddleston, alright? Yes they are really photogenic and there are a ton of convenient gifs of them but it’s been done so many dicking times before that the loss of connection is exponentially worse. Unless you’re bringing something to the table that’s new enough to make the use of Daenerys/Loki gifs clever and original, and lets face facts: you’re fucking not, then go back to the drawing table. There are loads of other actors to consider if you’re determined to find a good reference to your OC’s appearance.

Faceclaims and Dragonborns-done-wrong are the main thrust of this mess of words but really this isn’t really new, a lot of characters have come to personify typical tropes that have been seen in literally all forms of media so much that they’re barely characters at all. That’s pretty much what happened to freaking Ned Flanders and how ‘Flanderization’ became a term.

To summarize: All of the stuff I’ve ranted about can be a part of your OC but only if you’re smart with their usage, and the same can be applied to other tropes. Promiscuous characters are another kind of OC that I’ve seen pop up a few times but never really had much staying power since a lot of the characters were made soley for the purpose of smut, and again it’s the same kind of problem with the OCs that are more faceclaim than original character and the Dragonborn OCs that are identical to the ingame character save of whoever made the blog.

When being a sex machine/master of everything/Tom Hiddleston’s doppelganger/ect. becomes the main priority above everything else, you’re not going to make a fun and interesting OC. You’re not focusing on the important shit that really matters, making your character an actual character.