#I mean angels did canonically bang humans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autisticandroids · 3 years

Note

ok how would girls au work because i feel like to keep true with the theme of toxic gender roles them being cool and butch feels very at odds with that when like the girl version of that would be like christian girl with an instagram talking about country life and her future husband like it would be an interesting combo for them because john would be like ur an inherent failure for being a girl but also the expectations are lower already for them compared to john and sons

yeah it’s like weird! but i think about it a lot. i made a big fun post with it here.

basically my ideas are a combination of serious (dean) interesting (sam) and self-indulgent (cas).

like first of all i think sam is an out lesbian and i think she came out during the fight before stanford. like, i think she told dean when she was like fifteen, but she told john the night she left. she spat it in his face, actually.

i think dean is like. dean loves her unconditionally but is also lightly homophobic to her about it, you know? they were accustomed to sharing motel room beds as kids but dean won’t do it anymore now that she knows sam likes girls. dean is also like, weird to her about her interactions with other women, and also talks constantly about men, as though men-liking were a cool exclusive club only dean is invited to.

i think sam has like butt length straight hair and doesn’t wear any makeup ever but doesn’t like. wear mens clothes or anything, like she wears plain clothes that are cut for women. on hunts she puts her hair in a braid. maybe she braids a spiked strap into it like beka cooper.

dean is like........ dean is a lot like young, pre-john mary i think. think the song remains the same. dean is obsessed with performing masculinity, while at the same time terrified of seeming mannish or queer. she walks a weird line, and ends up overperforming both masculinity and femininity. she regularly challenges dudes twice her size to arm wrestling contests in bars, but she never goes out of the motel room without a full face of makeup. like she’s obsessed with doing both. masculinity for respect, and femininity for conformity. you know that thing dean does with his voice? the harshening? the intentionally adopted accent and tough guy tones? she does that too. and her voice is raspy, like rachel miner’s. she’s just as invested in her “heterosexuality” as canon dean.

she wears dean’s same green army jacket but underneath it she ties up a flannel shirt so it bares her midriff. she wears her hair like s13 mary, except that sometimes she puts it in little pigtails.

cas is the easiest because cas’ gender presentation doesn’t matter at all except in how OTHER PEOPLE relate to her, so it’s less a question of “how would cas do woman?” and more a question of “what would it be fun to see other people/dean specifically react to?”

so basically like. jimmy novak is a frumpy feminine christian mom. still wears the trench coat and probably a suit but when i say suit i mean blazer, pencil skirt, tights, blouse (or maaaybe a button down), low-ish heels. long hair in bouncy curls (think rowena’s hair but no bangs and black). actually jimmy novak probably pinned her hair up in a slight updo.

anyway i’ve decided that i refuse to try and remember what actually happened with cas falling in like, canon, like how close he got to human. this au’s cas gets close enough to human that she has to start like. showering. anyway she can’t take care of the hair so it gets tangled in a giant rat’s nest and dean gives her a bathroom chop. she has to borrow the winchester sisters’ clothes, because she has to start changing clothes but also because she can’t fucking walk in jimmy’s heels or in that confining skirt without the assistance of her grace.

all the winchesters’ clothes look baggy on her because she’s kind of spindly and narrow and flat as a board. like dean and sam have big shoulders, big hips, and big breasts, and cas has zero out of three, so anything she wears looks like a smock. she keeps wearing the coat over whatever they give her. she’s tallish (five feet eight or nine inches?) but dean is taller and sam is freakishly tall. cas could probably pass for a man alone but when she’s with dean or sam it’s obvious she’s a woman just because of the heights.

when she returns to angelhood at the end of season five, she’s wearing jimmy’s white office button down, but no bra underneath because the only reasons she would need one would be to either make her boobs look bigger or to hide her nipples and cas isn’t interested in either of those things and bras are uncomfortable, no blazer on top, a set of cargo pants that look feminine and form fitting on dean because dean is in possession of an ass and hips, but baggy and dykey on cas because she is not, combat boots (also dean’s), and the coat, and her hair is just like canon cas’ hair but way choppier because dean cut it for her.

anyway, dean treats cas in a WILD way, like. they do some intricate rituals in season four? they are dean winchester and castiel, after all. but after cas butches up in season five and then stays that way dean pushes it into overdrive. “i wish you were a boy so i could date you” shit. dean lets cas put a hand on the small of her back. she jokes that cas is her boyfriend. when cas sleeps, they sleep in the same bed, “since you can’t possibly share with sam, she’s a dyke.” also she called cas cassie a lot when cas looked more feminine but switches exclusively to cas when cas looks more masculine. like it’s this whole “”””straight”””” girl intricate ritual where one is attracted to a masculine woman so one coercively masculinizes her further.

sam tries to check in with cas to see if cas is cool with this forcible masculinization and weird gender relationship, because sam is gay and Understands or at least thinks she does. she also catches wind that cas is here to smash a lot sooner than in canon. but anyway cas rebuffs her because cas hates sam.

tangent, but one of my least favorite things that happens in mid spn, starting i think in s6, is that they start needing plausible deniability for cas, so they start pretending him and sam are like, friends. like 6.20 “i did it to protect the boys. or to protect myself. i don’t know anymore.” like there’s all this emotional stuff where cas is clearly talking about his emotional connection to dean, but sam gets included in order to make it seem SLIGHTLY less gay. and that’s annoying because of the no-homo-ness but it’s actually more annoying because 1) i liked s5 cas’ bitchiness towards sam i think that killed and 2) if sam and cas are gonna be friends after cas was a bitch and called sam an abomination and shit, develop it! develop it! don’t just Say that they are.

anyway it’s my au and i say what happens so the plausible deniability “both the brothers are important to me” shit does NOT happen and cas is a bitch to sam throughout s5&6. they do eventually bond later? like cas still takes sam’s hell trauma, and sam feels like she owes her for that (even though it was CAS’ FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE but sam is batshit like that). so that’s what kind of gets them to eventually bond a little and become friends and comrades.

also sam clocks cas as gay. obviously. sam tries to inform cas about being gay. because sam too is gay. it only kind of sticks. cas doesn’t really understand how human societal roles work. cas has HUGE angel autism and i support her.

also as long as we’re talking about five and six, why don’t we deal with male lisa. so obviously the kid thing doesn’t work. the thing that lisa does that makes dean like :o is not “have a kid that might be dean’s” but “tell dean he was going to propose.” this implies that they were dating in the past longer than canon dean and lisa but oh well.

however, when dean gets pulled back into hunting, she’s six weeks pregnant by lisa and doesn’t know it. cas immediately tells her, and offers to give her an angelic abortion. she accepts without hesitating and cas does it. the fact that this - cas taking ownership of dean’s reproductive organs in a somewhat invasive way, even if it was wanted - contributes to their whole.... season six..... dynamic. dean never tells lisa about this.

that’s everything i can think of. i have work in four hours.

#spn #asks #pregnancy tw #Anonymous #girls au

432 notes · View notes

loveinterestcastiel · 3 years

Text

sursum corda

Part one of a new canon divergent series, “A Sacrament to Be Taken Kneeling”

Summary: the opening dialogue to the eucharistic prayer, or anaphora, translated to english means “lift up your hearts”, and is the beginning of a devout worshipper’s holy communion with god

Canon divergent from 6x22, this one is rated M for religious blasphemy, power dynamics, and mature subject matter (later installments will be rated E for violence, sexual content, and graphic depictions of blood). Honestly this is just a fucked up exploration of the catholicnatural that could have been if the spn writers hadn’t been cowards and had instead really leaned into the whole Godstiel thing, and his dynamic with Dean. I’m going to hell for this and you know what? That’s just fine with me.

It can be read here or in AO3! Enjoy <3

Castiel was brighter than the sun, and he was beautiful. He was the most terrifying thing Dean had ever seen, because somewhere in there, he could still see Cas, the old Cas. He let Crowley go. Dean was going to kill that demon, but- later. Later, when they got out of here and got Sammy put back together.

Then Castiel blew Raphael up with nothing more than a snap of his fingers, and their most formidable adversary, after all these months, was suddenly just a bloody smear on the wall. The last Apocalyptic threat, gone, just like that, leaving Dean and Bobby alone with a Cas-gone-nuclear.

They were so, so fucked.

Cas looked over to Dean, his face softening incrementally but still distinctly smug.

"So you see," he said, turning away from Dean and moving as if to inspect his explosive handiwork, "I saved you."

Dean Winchester is saved.

“You sure did, Cas,” Dean said faintly, drifting further into Cas’s orbit as if somehow compelled. Castiel didn’t acknowledge him, keeping his back turned, his spine ramrod straight. Damage control. Holy fucking shit, damage control right now. “Thank you.”

“You doubted me. Fought against me.” He slowly turned to face Dean, a mockery of their first meeting in that rundown barn years ago, tilting his head the same way, his blue eyes the same limitless color and just as mesmerizing, but somehow about a million times more unsettling. “But I was right all along.”

Dean’s stomach swooped. “Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry,” he added quickly, his breath shallow and shaky. “Now let’s just defuse you, okay?” he suggested, the words cumbersome and heavy in his mouth.

Cas narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. “What do you mean?” he asked icily.

Dean forged on desperately. “You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe, so before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.” Oh, he felt like he was going to be sick. Please, Cas, please just listen to me…

“Oh, no, they belong with me,” Cas countered, his tone almost patronizing, like he was speaking to a child.

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted before his brain or his fear could catch up to him. “It’s- it’s scrambling your brain.”

“No, I’m not finished yet,” he said firmly, with the ghost of a cold smile tugging on his features. “Raphael had many followers, and I must-” Cas paused, choosing his words, “punish them all severely,” he finished deliberately.

Bobby’s eyes darted over to Dean. He was visibly horrified.

Okay. One last effort. Okay.

Dean shoved down his fear and tried again. “Listen to me.” He stepped closer to Cas, swallowing hard as his voice fought to stick in his throat and looking steadily into his eyes. “Listen- I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family, once,” he pleaded. “I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times.” Castiel’s face remained impassive but Dean continued. “So if that means anything to you- please,” he begged, abandoning his pride. “I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too.”

Castiel wrenched his eyes away from Dean’s and cast his gaze down to the floor between them. Was he considering it?

“You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas,” he tried to reason. “Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

A beat.

“You’re just saying that because I won,” Cas mused, raising his gaze back up to look at Dean again, pinning him there like a specimen under a microscope. “Because you’re afraid . You’re not my family, Dean,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them until he stood less than an arm’s reach away, positively radiating power, the air vibrating with it. “You’re just… human.”

His eyes lingered on Dean’s face, tracing his freckles, his eyelashes. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. Castiel’s face hardened into stone, his next words iron. “I have no family.”

The words rang in Dean’s ears, banging about his brain and battering it into despair. It felt like a small death, his heart pulling on his ribs as he floundered for a new angle to pursue.

And then Sam was there, behind Castiel, and he just stabbed him with an angel blade, and Cas was swaying just a bit with the blade still stuck in his back as Sam gasped for air behind him, clearly distressed and stumbling backwards.

Dean froze, horrified.

What the FUCK were you thinking, Sam?

But- oh. Oh god.

Cas wasn’t dead. It didn’t work. His brain buzzed blankly with a static-y sensation of bewilderment as Cas reached around himself and pulled out the blade- shiny, clean, utterly free of blood- with an alarming squelching noise.

"I'm glad you made it, Sam," Cas said in a distressingly level voice, placing the newly-extricated angel blade on the table in front of him before turning to glance at Sam. “But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact as could be, as if he hadn’t just dropped yet another massive bomb on their lives. Sam looked to Bobby, his eyes wide, and Bobby shrugged back minutely, similarly floored.

Look at me, Cas, leave Sammy alone, you’ve done enough-

As if he heard Dean’s thoughts- fuck, was he praying?- Castiel turned back to Dean and met his eyes. “I’m your new God,” he said, with an air of authority and immense self-satisfaction permeating his words. “A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”

Bobby’s eyes widened in the periphery of Dean’s vision as time seemed to swirl and slow down to a crawl- clearly, he hadn’t expected this either.

Sammy was strung out and swaying on his feet behind Cas, his eyes darting and rolling over the room as he rode out the hellish things that tormented him in his head, seemingly incapable of reacting to the gravity of the situation as what Cas had done put him out of his mind with fear.

In the span of a heartbeat, Dean made his choice. He had no choice.

He fell to his knees.

The crack of bone on hard tile was near agony. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground beside him as he shifted his gaze to land somewhere around the hem of Castiel’s coat. He couldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. It was almost impossible to believe the terrifying figure before him was once his closest friend, and had saved him from Heaven and Hell alike before he had turned into whatever this was.

His throat was dry. He forced himself to swallow, drawing his tongue over his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words.

Bobby started to kneel, too. Survival instincts, probably. He’d have never gotten this old without them, anyway.

“My lord,” he began hesitantly.

The new God waved his hand dismissively at the title. “Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean corrected himself. Great start, you fuck up. “Cas, I swore my obedience to Heaven, once. To God, and his angels. To you,” his voice cracked as he risked a glance at the former angel. His eyes were like fire. Glowing. Unreal.

Bobby interrupted: “Dean, no-”

But Castiel snapped up a hand, palm out, and Bobby’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. “You will be silent,” Castiel ordered, his eyes never leaving Dean. He looked intrigued by Dean’s sudden compliance and admission. “I’d like to hear what you have to say, Dean. What can you possibly say to justify your lack of faith in me up until now? I could have cast you back into the pit, and Sam, too, had I not done this, all of it, for you.”

“I know you did, Cas,” Dean said. “Thank you. I- thank you. You were right, about everything, and I should have listened to you. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” The words tasted like poison in his mouth. A part of him meant it. A part of him was just desperate enough to say anything. The rest of him wanted to see the cold monster in front of him dead. But how could he turn back now, without sentencing them all to death? If he played his cards right, he might even be able to save Castiel. Surely if he could get him to let go of those souls, he’d start to see reason, would be Cas again. But he was getting ahead of himself. Gotta think a little more short-term, right now. Band-aids and duct tape, not trauma surgery.

“I was blind,” Dean said, “and proud. I took you for granted, and I can do better. Be better. For- for you.”

He had never felt so weak. Groveling to his dad was different. He was his dad’s son, sure, but there was no love there. It was all survival, clinical, even his rage and his fists when Dean didn’t do enough to earn his mercy were detached. Duty and discipline and disappointment. This was different. It was hot with near-tears, messy and filled with grief for a man who wasn’t even dead. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told Cas he was like a brother to him. It was the closest comparison he had for what the angel was to his heart. He had never needed anyone like he needed Castiel- because he wasn’t Sammy, or Bobby, or Lisa, or Ben, or Cassie, or any other category of need. He was just Cas. And Dean wanted him in his life. Or he used to, anyway.

“I don’t know what I can do to make it right between us, Cas,” he said, his throat tightening slightly. “But I want to,” Dean offered, looking down in shame. “I want to be-” he choked out.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked, taking another step forward, the very picture of authority and control. One more step and Dean could reach out and touch him. The air was electric, heady with power as it positively radiated from his body.

He lifted his head to meet Castiel’s eyes in a pose of supplication, his knees aching, his eyes burning with tears as the situation started to overwhelm him. “I want to be forgiven,” he gasped out. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive us.”

“And Sam’s betrayal?” Castiel inquired, casting new fear into Dean’s heart. “He stabbed me in the back. And he has not knelt as you have. Why should I offer him mercy?” he mused.

“Look at him, Cas,” Dean said quietly. Sam was hunched over on the floor in the corner, holding his head in his hands, rocking slightly into the wall and pushing off of it again in a strange repetitive motion. “He can’t follow any of this. I don’t think he even knows where we are. It’s been getting worse as time passes. He was slightly more coherent an hour ago, but-” Dean shook his head. “I think he was just trying to protect me. I don’t think he even knew who you were, just- saw a threat and tried to take it out.”

Cas made a noncommittal little noise, glancing over to where Sam had retreated.

“Cas,” Dean said, drawing his attention back to himself. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Can you try to forgive him that?” he pleaded as the first tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

“And in return?”

“Anything,” Dean swore. “Just- Cas, please. I’ll do anything. I will, I swear it. Just please help Sammy.”

“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Castiel warned. “I want your trust, Dean. I want the bond we once had, and your submission to my better judgement, untainted by your... fear.” His voice turned hungry, reminiscent of when they worked that killer Cupid case last year and it turned out to be Famine. To be on the receiving end of desire of that magnitude was by turns exhilarating and horrifying. “I want your love.”

“Cas,” Dean said faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from his friend’s face even as Bobby attempted to fight his holy gag order from his place next to him. “I… I’ll try. For you,” he added, trying to add a note or resolve to his voice as his thoughts roared in fear and grappled with the idea, stuck on the precipice of this terrible new unknown he had run up against. But he truly had no choice. Sink or swim.

“I swear, Cas,” he said, raising his hand to his heart, “I’ll try.”

Castiel’s eyes softened. They stopped glowing.

Suddenly, for a moment, he looked just like himself. More than that, he looked heartbreakingly human.

He moved suddenly, sending Dean’s heart sprinting again for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

But he didn’t hurt him. He didn’t hurt Sam, or smite Bobby, or engage in any sort of holy wrath. He just kneeled, in front of Dean, and clasped his clammy hands briefly in his own warm, dry ones before shifting them both to his right hand and raising his right palm to Dean’s cheek, his eyes darting over his features with an air of disbelieving gratitude. It was so...

Castiel had lovely hands, Dean noticed. Strong, soft, and broad, with a gentle grip and long, agile fingers. So different from Dean’s own hands, already scarred from the last few years of wear and tear since his resurrection. Of course, he’d noticed before. Noticed that sort of thing about Castiel, how he used his hands to fight, to pray, to eat and to comfort, how they looked drenched in blood and how they looked at rest. How they looked striking a blow to his own face, and how they looked when he healed him. They were one of a million things Dean knew about him better than he knew himself.

“Oh, Dean,” he said softly, “That’s all I ask of you. Just try. Lift up your heart to me, and I will give you everything.”

Dean inhaled sharply, his chest tight as he leaned into the touch. "It's yours," he breathed out, "It's all yours, Cas."

Castiel smiled, and the world fell away.

Tagging in some people who I think might be interested, just dm me to be added or removed: @castieljew @dependsupon @autisticandroids @sunforgrace @heller-jensen @lateral-org @cactuscas @adhdeancas @icaruscastiel @holmesemrys @evermorecastiel @yana125 @faithcastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @i-sing-for-me @whatevr-4evr @sonder-stars @jeanne-de-valois

81 notes · View notes

starlightshore · 3 years

Note

hi sorry if this seems a little rude, if chara isn't really bad, then why do they kill them on the soulless route?

(I always wanted to know about it)

(not rude at all! feel free to ask questions like this its no skin off my back) which “them” are you referring to? that could mean different things like: the underground, the player, Frisk ect. its a little vague)

but I’ll try to answer this with the above being vague anyway

---

hoo boy this ended up long LMAO. coming back from the bottom to say Sorry this ended up this lengthy. here’s some

content warnings: discussions of canon and implied dark topics such as: abuse, murder, death, suicide, and self harm

---

TLDR: Chara is a complex character with a rich backstory and motivations. by looking at the full game, you understand they’re a mentally ill child who is just following the player’s directions. YOU do the killing, Chara is your partner in crime because you force them to be.

Chara is the narrator in ALL routes. they are the UI, stats and narration.

it is Chara’s memories that convinces Asriel to remember how they met and how much they loved each other when alive. Chara is key to Asriel freeing the underground, they are a god dang hero

let’s look at canon Chara pre-game to fully understand what’s going on though.

-Chara lived in a village close to mt.Ebott. they decided to climb mt.Ebott for “a not happy reason” and hated humanity

-once underground, they become the sibling to Asriel and become a full fledged Dreemurr. They love their family. “it’s a dusty photo. everyone is happy.” (which, if you believe is the photo of Chara holding the flowers next to Asriel, implies Chara is smiling under them and their bangs) + the Mr.Dad Guy sweater + baking a pie for their dad

-in the underground, there’s the Deltarune prophecy. it reads as follows: “There is a prophecy. The Angel... The One Who Has Seen The Surface... They will return. And the underground will go empty.“

-Toriel and Asgore are both strong believers of the Deltarune as seen by the symbol on their clothes and homes.

-Chara has been to the surface and therefore, most believe Chara is the angel that will free them.

-Chara is a small child, who hates humanity, loves their family, and by fate is destined to free monster-kind. they are determined.

-Chara and Asriel decide to prank Asgore by making a pie with buttercups instead of a cup of butter. They learn the flower is poisonous and Asgore gets sick, but ends up fine. Chara laughs it off, but if one is paying attention to the game, you will see that their is a very common theme of smiling/laughing when distressed.

Toriel smiling, laughing when being killed in no mercy

Migospel’s whole game-play is about how one acts around others vs. alone “ Laughter hides the pain. [Alone]”

sans can be seen as a broad example

a VERY good example is the snowdrake’s mother fight:

“You laugh, and keep laughing. It's SO funny, you can't stop. Tears run down your face. | ... what? You didn't do that? [Laugh]

But it's not funny. [Laugh again]”

-Chara hates humanity (epilogue Asriel says that) and by extension, would hate themself. you can read into the tools being worn down to being blunt + no knives in the kitchen as being precautions Toriel put in place to prevent Chara from self-harming. Chara attempts suicide twice in the game’s story.. Also! It’s implied Chara was abused before coming underground. “ If you're cuter, monsters won't hit you as hard.-faded ribbon flavor text” and the fact Chara thought to kill the villagers in the first place, they didn’t get the “kill or be killed” mindset out of nowhere. + abuse can manifest in depression, anxiety, and Chara displays behaviors of coping with abuse. (harder to explain that detail, but Chara’s control-issues and distrust just SCREAMS abuse to me)

Chara is a kid with severe mental illness, implied to be abused, and all while younger than 13. that’s a lot to take in. which is also why a lot of people are upset at “Chara is evil” theories because it ignores that context and demonizes them. which is. bad. for lots of reasons. but mainly for how it handles the topic of survivors of abuse and mental illness and they’re just a freaking kid.

-anyway, long tangent aside... so this next point is more so how I interpret the order of events: Chara climbs the mountain to die, but trips and meets the Dreemurs. They become beloved by the kingdom and believed to be their savior. Chara can’t escape humanity’s history of trapping monsters or their own history of their horrible village, and when Asgore is poisoned they realize they’re bad too. It’s a common mindset of suicidal people to want to die before their image is tarnished. die while things are still “good,” when they’re still remembered fondly.

to cross the barrier, you need to have a human soul AND a monster soul. if Chara wanted to, they could of killed any of the Dreemurrs and absorbed their soul. But instead, the buttercup plan is a really freaking horrible way to die. Buttercup poisoning is awful. seriously, look up the symptoms. it’s bad. which is also why i believe Chara hated themself so much to put up with that form of death. -then they die, and become part of the Asriel and Chara fusion. (it should be stated they did not know Chara would be conscious.) the plan they agree on is to kill enough humans to break the barrier and free monster-kind, but Chara wants revenge, which is why they want to kill the humans and not negotiate like Toriel suggests Asgore could of done.

-Humans of course freak out at seeing them + their corpse and attack. Asriel realizes Chara was wrong and doesn’t want to murder, lets himself be killed. As they’re dying Chara screams “its kill or be killed” and both die. -years, possibly a century later depending on what side of the time-skip debate you’re on, Chara awakens in Frisk’s body and interacts with You, the player.

-they likely see you as the True Angel, and follow your orders just as Frisk just kinda vibes and does so as well.

-if you keep murdering, frisk distances themself from the world. (implied by what sans says about LV): * LOVE, too, is an acronym. * It stands for "Level of Violence." * A way of measuring someone's capacity to hurt. * The more you kill, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. * The more you distance yourself, the less you will hurt. * The more easily you can bring yourself to hurt others.

-Frisk, NOPEing out of the whole thing, just leaves Chara, who feels like they are the literal stats of the universe. THAT is why Chara is only really fully present in no mercy, and only narration otherwise. Frisk’s autonomy and how much control they have are directly tied to your LV. Frisk is only named in the pacifist ending because they’re rewarded with the acknowledgement that they’re a person.

-The biggest detail is that it’s not Chara who kills, but YOU. Chara is your partner in crime, and only attacks the player when you refuse to ERASE the world and they kill you themself. it is your power and your determination that brought them to this world, and it is through your actions they believe power is the only they must fight for.

-also, both Chara and frisk are influenced by the player and react differently depending on your actions. (the dog food bag is described as “half full/half empty” depending on your LV, a reference to how one looks at glasses of water to be more optimistic/pessimistic and Frisk will feel good/bad depending on LV when punching the mad dummy in waterfall.) Chara is always just following your lead. they’re not controlling Frisk, you are. however, they are in control of the choices (as confirmed in no mercy you don’t get to choose answers for papyrus’ question and he calls you out on it. personally i like to think each choice answer is from each kid)

anyway yeah that's my overly long analysis of how Chara’s backstory is used to define who they are and then how being revived from the dead, they follow your steps to apply the “kill or be killed” logic to it’s extreme end.

also, its not like Chara is happy about following your orders either.

they think a plant is judging you. they talk about your sins in the sans fight. they call Undyne a hero despite fighting her. Chara doesn’t want to kill Asriel, but once it happens they go ballistic, stabbing repetitively, clearly upset. that then instantly gets them powerful enough to destroy the world, as with how LV is described as distancing yourself and such. Asriel meant the MOST out of everyone, he was their best friend, forever.

#Anonymous #personal stuff #sams replies #long post #undertale analysis

77 notes · View notes

smash-bros-endia · 2 years

Text

The Trial for a Hero’s Soul: Pt. 6

Sora, Shantae, Rise, and Artina are all rushing to find Flonne while being chased by those wanting a shot at Sora’s extremely high bounty.

Rise: “Shantae! Watch your left!”

Shantae dodges Bowser’s attack and uses her hair to give him a hard slap in the face, knocking him down.

Shantae: “Thanks.”

Artina: Uses her angel whip to grab King K. Rool’s canonball and launch it right back at him. “We’re completely outnumbered here...”

Sora: “Yeah, but not our first time, right?” Dodges Mao’s blast fingers and burns him using Firaga.

Shantae: “True, but we can’t keep this up forever.”

Rise: “There’s a path to our left we can use. Move it everyone!”

The four of them run off.

Bowser: Calls Jr. on his phone. “Son, he’s in route! Launch the canons!”

Bowser Jr.: Sees Sora running through his binoculars. “You heard him! Fire at will!”

Will the Koopa Troopa: “What did I do?!”

Bowser Jr.: “Not you, moron.”

Rise: “Watch out!”

A bomb was about to hit them until...

Dante: “Batter up!” Uses the rebellion to send the bomb right back at the ship that fired it. “Whoo! Homerun!”

Sora: “Dante!”

Dante: “Hey kid! What did I tell you about not inviting me to the party?”

Shantae: “You’re helping us? I thought for sure you’d be after the bounty.”

Dante: “Yeah, the money on him would definitely pay off my bills for years...but I got a rule against killing humans.”

Artina: “Dante...”

Rise: “More bombs incoming!”

Dante: “Ready for some fun, kid?”

Sora: “You bet!”

The group continue onward while either deflecting or evading oncoming bombs as well as koopa troopas that try to block their path.

Shantae: “Laharl’s place shouldn’t be much further.”

Dante: “You guys go on ahead. I’m having way too much fun here to back out now.”

Rise: “If you weren’t a demon, I’d call you insane.”

Dante: “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Artina: “Take care of yourself, Dante...and try not to damage the ships too bad. You don’t want Bowser to slap you with ANOTHER bill, right?”

Dante: “No promises.”

After Dante leaves the party, the area around them starts to darken.

Sora: “Hey, when did it get so dark? Is the Red Moon out already?”

Shantae: “Wait, this is...”

Rise: “Sora! Duck!”

Sora: Ducks just in time as he evades Maeve’s pounce and quickly counters her by attacking her back.

Artina: “Maeve! I should’ve known you’d be after his bounty too.”

Maeve: “Nothing personal, kitten.” Gets up. “It’s just business.”

Maeve throws her knives at the group and runs off. The group looks around, trying to keep watch for her, but they struggle to keep up. Soon, Maeve goes for another pounce, this time at Rise, but when she got close...

Orphen: “Chainmail of Halos!” Binds Maeve down.

Sora: “Orphen!”

Orphen: “You okay.”

Rise: “Yeah. Thanks.”

Maeve: “Let go of me, sorcerer!”

Orphen: “If you say so.” Blows Maeve up with Sisters of Explosion, sending her back. “I suggest you get out of here before before she gets back up again.”

Shantae: “Does that mean you’ll...”catch up later”?”

Orphen: “Leave!”

Shantae: “We’re leaving!”

The four of them run off and soon reach Laharl’s smash castle. Once there, Shantae and Sora start banging on the door.

Laharl: “Alright alright! I hear you! Knock it off!” Opens the door. “What the hell do you-”

Shantae: “No time! It’s an emergency! Let us in!”

Laharl: “Don’t tell the overlord what to-”

Not wanting to hear any of Laharl’s crap, Shantae turns into an elephant and rams her way inside.

Laharl: “Hey!”

Sora: “Sorry Laharl!” Runs inside.

Artina: “You can send me the bill later.” Runs inside

Rise: “Mind locking the door for us?” Runs inside.

Laharl: Slams the door. “You guys got a lot of nerve.” A couple of prinnies rush over to repair and lock it as he walks away.

Etna: “Prince, what’s with all the noise? Can’t a girl enjoy her sweets in peace?”

Flonne: “Yeah, I can’t watch my anime with all this racket.”

Laharl: “Don’t look at me! These 4 decided to barge their way in here!”

Artina: “Lady Flonne. I’m sorry to disturb you, but we need a favor.”

Flonne: “Don’t worry Artina. You can ask me anything.”

Sora: “Thanks. Do you think you can give me a pardon?”

Etna: “A pardon???”

Sora: “You see...”

Later after everyone explains the situation to Laharl, Etna, and Flonne.

Laharl: “Haaaahahahahaaaaa! You mean to tell me that the most pure hearted hero is on the universe’s most wanted list?! It’s official! You sunk even lower than Gordon!”

Etna: “That IS quite the milestone to reach.”

Sora: “I only did it because I wanted to help save everyone! I didn’t expect all of this to happen!”

Laharl: “Gordon said the same thing when he lost to me in a duel. Where’s your excuse now?”

Artina: “Please Lady Archangel, we need your help. Something in my heart tells me that he shouldn’t become a prinny. I don’t know what, but my gut tells me that we’re going to need him once the universe gets put into danger again.”

Flonne: “Hmm...”

Sora: “I still have promises I need to keep, very important ones too, and I can’t do that if I’m stuck training in Hades for who knows how long. I’ll do anything if it means I’ll be able to keep my word.”

Etna: “You should really watch who you say those words to.”

Shantae: “Etna!”

Rise: “To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Flonne: “Sora...I understand your strong desires of wanting to help and stay with your friends, and I would love to help you achieve that goal...but unfortunately, I don’t have the authorization to give you a pardon.”

Artina: “What?!”

Flonne: “I’m sorry, but I’m just an Archangel. Only beings like Master Lamington can issue an official pardon for someone’s sins, especially severe ones like yours. Why do you think Judge Nemo wasn’t pardoned when he became a prinny? He was fortunate that he was allowed to become a prinny at all considering what he did. I’m sorry, Sora.”

Sora: “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault, Flonne.”

Rise: “So, there’s nothing we can do?”

Shantae: “No, we can’t just give up! There’s gotta be some way to save him.”

Laharl: “Are you guys idiots?”

Shantae: “Huh?”

Laharl: “Flonne just spelled it out for you. You need someone like the Seraph to get that pardon, don’t you? Then just get it from Palutena!”

Artina: “That’s right! The Goddess of light from Skyworld! She should be able to pardon him no problem!”

Shantae: “See guys? There’s still hope!”

Sora: “Alright! Let’s head to Skyworld!”

Flonne: “Good luck everyone!”

Sora, Rise, Shantae, and Artina walk away.

Etna: “I’m surprised you’re not going after that bounty, Prince.”

Laharl: “I really should, especially after that outburst they made earlier, but I already know guys like him are too stubborn to make it worth the effort.”

Etna: “Seriously? If anything, you’re the stubborn one, Prince.”

#Story bits #super smash bros #SUPER SMASH BROS ULTIMATE #disgaea #persona #super mario bros #shantae #devil may cry #paladins #Sorcerous Stabber Orphen #donkey kong #kingdom hearts

2 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 3 years

Note

I'm curious: in your personal reading of Cas as ace, do you also consider him another orientation (romantic or sexual)? For me personally, I consider him gay and ace, or sometimes gay-oriented aroace.

this is a good question actually lol. most of me wants to say that cas is gay and ace because he did canonically fall in love w/ another man and it means a lot to people to call him the gay angel even though i think he’s the ace angel so like gay ace is a v good compromise i think. ace angel handshake emoji gay angel you know!

however (unpopular opinion warning) i do have a little trouble with meg. with every other woman cas is around he either doesn’t have any chemistry (hannah, daphne), it’s CLEARLY a platonic relationship (kelly), or it’s clearly some kind of comphet weirdness (the orgies in 5.04, the reaper in s9 which also counts as rape in my book). w/ meg though his affection seemed both genuine and...i know but... ??? borderline romantic ??? hard to say. it definitely doesn’t negate or cancel out the obvious and canonical feelings he had for dean, but he liked her! he was dtf! in a way that was very different from his thing with the reaper in cursed season 9.

so like: ??? ace and gay and willing to bang a lady anyway maybe? like because when you’re ace you’re not physically attracted to ANYBODY, so it’s impossible to be physically attracted to whoever you’re banging - ace people have sex for other reasons - emotional intimacy, because it feels good, w/e. so he could have been ace and gay and still willing to nonromantically bang his lady friend just as a form of affection. “biromantic” def feels like the wrong label for cas, even if you slap a “demi-” in front of it - if anything, i’d call him unoriented.

by unoriented i mean: i myself don’t use the split attraction model bc i don’t like it. that doesn’t mean i think it’s bad in general or bad for other people, it’s just not what i like. so when i say i’m asexual that’s the whole label. my romantic orientation isn’t “aro” or “gay” or “bi” or whatever it’s that i just don’t have one. subtle but distinct difference. so i could see something like that for cas, bc what is he there for if not to project on. he fell in love w/ dean because dean is dean (and in “like” w/ meg because meg is meg) and his orientation or lack thereof had nothing to do with it, you know?

this is NOT EVEN GETTING INTO the secret essay i have on how angel sexuality is totally different than human sexuality - because the taboo is to be attracted to humans, and gender has nothing to do with it - this is ALSO because angel gender is probably totally different than human gender, and human gender is totally fucking made up anyway - male seahorses have the babies, you know? it’s not that defining sexuality and gender is bad (labels are good because they help people be comfortable with themselves and find other people with similar experiences!) but we put the label on the experience, we don’t try to make the experience fit the label.

anyway, the point of all this to say that sexuality is weird and complicated (even moreso when you’re talking about the aro and ace spectrum, even MORE SO when you remember that the way we classify it seems to be somewhat arbitrarily based on gender, which again is kind of a fake concept that we made up), and it seems a liiiittle pointless to try and like, qualify cas’s romantic orientation when the sum total of his romantic feelings (except for MAYBE the .1% of genuine connection he had w/ meg) are just wholly devoted to and laser-focused on dean. like, CANONICALLY, castiel loves dean winchester to the total exclusion of other people. what else really matters, yk

that said, dean happens to be male and cas happens to be in a male vessel, so yes, technically the factual thing to say is that he’s gay and ace because that fits canon, it makes the people who him being gay has meaning for happy, and it also keeps exclusionists on tumblr from calling you homophobic. (apparently headcanoning a gay character as being aspec is homophobic even though the two are not at all mutually exclusive and being aspec isn’t code for being straight because aces ARE queer?? bro don’t even get me started lol)

sorry anon this answer got way longer than intended! but yeah i do think cas is queer like twice over - firstly because he loves a human (angel queer), and secondly because he loves one of his own gender (human queer). you might also say he’s some kind of genderqueer too based on your interpretation of angel genders (???) vs the gender cas became when he decided to stick around in jimmy (male, ostensibly, but many other headcanons work for that too). he’s like queer squared. and i love him. my rainbow angel <3

[spn masterpost]

#liz answers asks #anonymous #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #liz watches spn #spn #destiel #i don't want this in the tracked tag lol i'll get rotten vegetables thrown at me #if anyone comes to my inbox to try and tell me aces aren't queer i will fly to your house and dump cat shit in your bed #liz makes stuff #ace cas

57 notes · View notes

ithebookhoarder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 19: In Sickness and in Health (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Description: Life for Tommy Shelby was pretty ordinary; all he ever had to worry about were his family, their business and the Blinders. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, that was until his ‘daughter’, a twelve-year-old girl called Evelyn Westmore, was thrown into his life, dredging up feelings and things from the past he’d done very well to forget.

Also available on AO3:

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

Masterlist:

----

The next morning was when Evie finally learned the definition of a hangover. A real hangover. Like, Arthur after a night at the Garrison hangover.

She had barely been conscious a minute before she realised her head was pounding. It was as if someone was driving a hammer into her skull over and over again.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, knowing instantly the pain was going to be too much.

“Fuck,” she whined, pushing her face into her pillow, wondering if by some miracle she could go back to sleep. Of course, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not when she also currently felt like she was suffering from the worst case of sea sickness known to human kind. It made her stomach churn uneasily, and she could feel her whole body shaking.

Evie groaned, weakly turning over to try and sit up in bed. She knew for a fact that her hair was most likely a hell of mess, and the fact her breath felt like acid left her heavily confused.

She honestly had no idea what the hell had happened to her, or why the hell she felt the way she did. It was as if someone had scrubbed her mind so clean it was raw. There was a huge chunk of time missing from her mind from the night before.

What the hell happened?

With a sigh, she peeled back the covers and began to brave her way down to the kitchen below.

Tommy, needless to say, was waiting in the main room, a paper spread out in front of him and a cup of tea in hand. John was also in the kitchen, Arthur beside him as they scoffed their way through the food in front of them - courtesy of Polly.

The woman truly was an angel.

Her father glanced up as he heard Evie enter, only to start laughing at her miserable face. He was enjoying this; she could tell. If she’d had any strength she’d probably have tried to wipe that smile off his face. But she didn’t. She merely shuffled in, sat in the nearest chair and let out a small moan at the fresh smell of food in the air.

“Why do I have bulls stamping on my brain?”

“Because you thought it was a smart idea to challenge Johnny boy here, to a pissing contest,” Tommy remarked calmly, hiding his grin behind his paper. It was clear from his windswept hair and the smell of soot about him he’d been up sometime, already venturing out into the city. How he got the resilience, Evie could never explain.

“What?”

“Which I won, by the way,” John protested, looking unfairly healthy as he helped himself to his breakfast. The smell alone was enough to make Evie want to empty her stomach everywhere.

“But she gave an admirable attempt,” Arthur heckled. “Worthy of the Shelby name I’d say. Almost drank a bottle of her own before she keeled over. Not bad for a slip of a thing.”

Evie groaned, dropping her face down into her hands. “I hate you all.”

“So you don’t want some hot coffee then?” Polly chuckled, placing the cup down in front of her. “Drink that. It’ll help.”

Evie took her at her word, all but downing the steaming drink, praying it helped in some way. “Why do you all drink so much if this how you feel afterwards?”

“You learn your limits,” her father chided. “You build up an immunity too.”

“Clearly I didn’t inherit your Shelby skill.”

“No, but you have determination,” Tommy chuckled. “Clearly you’ve had good teachers.”

“Or bad influences,” Polly countered, turning to glare at her nephews.

“One day, she’ll look back on this and laugh.”

“Not anytime soon, by the looks of her.”

Evie groaned all over again. “I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not - actually, better yet, why doesn’t everyone whisper?”

“PARDON?”

Evie was half way out of her seat and ready to murder Arthur in a heartbeat. It was only Polly’s warning glare that stopped her. That, and the sudden nausea caused by moving so fast.

“Sit down,” her aunt scoffed, placing a plain piece of buttered toast in front of her. “Eat that and then go back to bed. You’ll feel better. I promise. This lot will be gone soon.”

“Sooner the better,” Evie grumbled half heartedly, even though she didn’t mean it. Still, John clearly got the hint and took that as his cue to excuse himself from the meal.

“Right,” John grinned, donning his cap. “I’m off to the garage. Be back in a bit, yeah? Meeting Lizzie so she can cook.” The others nodded, murmuring various acknowledgements as he slipped out into the street.

“I have business too,” Arthur grinned, rising from his seat and patting Evie’s shoulder as he did so. “Just sleep it off, ey? And don’t drink anything Polly gives you. You’d rather die on your own terms than have one of her miracle cures.”

“Oi!”

Arthur sniggered, leaping out of the doorway as Polly rose to slap the smile off of his face. Still, Evie took his word for it. She loved her aunt but she had a suspicion Arthur knew what he was on about. Especially judging by the slightly queazy look on her father’s face.

“The bloody cheek.”

“Leave him, Pol,” Tommy soothed. “He isn’t worth it."

“I wish I’d let Evie rip his throat out now.”

“Oh, there’s still time. Maybe later.”

Evie chuckled under breath. She’d hold him to that. For now, though, she was content to simply make her way through the plate of buttered toast and endless mugs of coffee Polly put before her. “Thank you,” she beamed, watching as Polly kissed her head before helping herself to her own breakfast.

That was how they stayed for the next half hour or so. Once they’d finished, Evie took the plates and went to wash up as a gesture of her gratitude. It also left her father and Polly alone, both of whom had been shooting odd looks at one another to the point where Evie almost wanted to call them out on it.

If they had something to say, they should just say it… unless they didn’t want her to hear?

So, she gave them space, washing dishes and listening to their soft voices echoing through the open doorway.

Evie didn’t need to hear more than the words ‘talk’ and ‘Lizzie’ to know what this was about. It had only been days since John had told her he was thinking of asking Lizzie to marry him. Evie still didn’t know how she felt about it, even though she wanted John happy and she liked Lizzie well enough. However, by the sounds of it, she didn’t have to worry about it any longer.

“Fuck,” Pol muttered. “You gonna tell him? Or am I?”

“I will.”

“Tell him what?” Evie asked slowly.

She couldn’t help it any longer. Her curiosity was greater than her fear of being scolded for eavesdropping. Besides, it was hardly like this conversation was that private. Else, they’d have taken it to the offices on the other side of the shop floor if they hadn’t want to be overheard.

She simply stepped into the doorway and waited for an answer.

Tommy sighed. He blew out a thin stream of smoke and looked at Pol. The look between them was enough for them to understand one another.

Polly blinked. “That leopards never change their spots.”

Just like that, Evie felt even sicker - something she hadn’t thought possible. It didn’t take a genius to work out what Polly was referring to. Part of her hoped she was wrong though, that her father and aunt hadn’t conspired to break John’s heart.

She watched her father go and turned back towards the stairs. All she wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep the remainder of the headache away. “Fuck.”

It appeared she wasn’t the only one who would be suffering that day.

--------

Thankfully, after a hot bath, plenty of coffee and a long sleep, Evie felt almost as good as new. She didn’t even mind the fact her father decided to wake her the following morning, ripping open the curtains and letting the morning sunshine burst into the room.

“Rise and shine, Evelyn.”

Evie groaned, pulling the pillow over her head in a vain attempt to block his voice out. “What’s the smile for?”

“Get dressed and you’ll find out.”

As if the shock of seeing her father in her room wasn’t enough to peak her interest, his proposition definitely did the trick. Evie was alert instantly. She couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d woken her up, let alone in such an odd mood.

She tried not to laugh as he tugged the covers off of her, doing his best as she clung on for dear life. Playful Tommy was rare. She half expected a cold bucket of water over the head or for him to be banging pans together instead.

“Dad,” Evie whined, surrendering and sitting upright. “What the hell is going on?”

“As I say, get dressed and come downstairs. We’ve got somewhere to be,” her father explained, gesturing to the dresser in the corner of the room.

To her utter surprise, a dress was already laid out and waiting for her - a beautiful sky blue dress, but one she’d never seen before.

Had he bought it for her?

“Polly picked it our for you so don’t keep her waiting,” he continued, as if sensing her questions. However, he gave her no more opportunities to ask them as he turned and left her to get ready for the absurd day ahead of them.

Evie couldn’t even begin to process it all. What had just happened? Was she still dreaming?

She managed to pry herself from her bed and wander over towards the dress. A single touch of the silky fabric was enough to prove this wasn’t a dream. This was very very real… and very expensive.

“Damn it, Pol,” she sniggered, reminding herself to talk to her aunt about wasting money on her like this. Whilst she absolutely adored the garment in front of her, she also knew they couldn’t really afford it.

Nevertheless, she’d learned a long time ago when to pick a battle with the Shelby family and when to simply go along with their wishes. This was definitely one of those times to go with the latter option. So, she stripped herself of her nightclothes and began to get ready for the day, washing away the sleep from her eyes in the washbasin and tidying her hair as best she could.

A few minutes more and she was ready. One final look in the mirror confirmed as much.

She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her coat, hurrying downstairs as fast as she was able. If her father was as excited as he’d seemed about today then she knew better than to keep him waiting. Even if she was nervous about what lay ahead, Evie couldn’t help but be a little excited too. However, as she hurried into the parlour, she was surprised to see it empty.

Her father was no where to be seen.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

That was when the door opened. That was when the last two people she’d expected to come strolling through together, did just that, grinning ear to ear.

“Polly what on earth is going o-” Evie began. She stopped, however, the moment she laid eyes on the woman next to her. “Ada?”

Like that, she was upon her, hurling herself at her aunt in disbelief. The heavily pregnant woman didn’t mind though, laughing as she cradled her back, peppering kisses to her cheeks.

“Oh my god. I’m glad to see you.”

“I missed you too,” Ada whispered. “It’s been too long.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Tommy invited her,” Polly smirked, visibly touched by the scene. “Family should be together on days like this one. We have a one day truce, thank god. I love a good wedding.”

“A wedding?”

She wasn’t the only one confused. Ada looked as bewildered as she felt. However, Evie finally took a moment to properly examine the moment. It was then she realised they were all dressed impeccably, with fine dresses and coats. Polly even had a hat on, something she saved for church or special occasions. How Evie had missed it was beyond her. Clearly, she was getting rusty.

“Apparently.”

“Whose?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Polly chuckled. “So, shall we go? Otherwise we’ll miss the bloody thing… I never thought I’d see the day John Shelby re-married. To a Lee of all things.”

Wait.

John.

This was John’s wedding?

To a Lee girl?

Not Lizzie?

Evie blinked. She froze and stared at the woman in disbelief. “You’re fucking joking? Right?”

Both Ada and Polly shook their heads. “It was your father’s idea,” Polly explained, adjusting her hat in the mirror before opening the door and ushering them towards the car. “It was a deal proposed by the Lees. Tommy agreed on John’s behalf. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Evie had a suspicion someone would be killed if that really was the case. “Does John know?”

“They’ll have told him by now.”

“Fuck. Now I see why they all left together.”

It took an army to make a Shelby do something they didn’t want to do. John especially. Evie felt bad at the thought. What if he didn’t want this? Why was her family forcing him into this? Was it too late to stop it?

Then again, her father loved his family more than life itself. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have John’s approval or hadn’t meticulously thought this whole thing out. Had he even met the bride to be?

Evie sighed. Why were Shelby weddings always so complicated? At least this one wasn’t in secret, a fact she was grateful for as she turned to her aunt and took her hand. The fact she was here beside her already made her feel ten times better.

“Freddie not with you?”

Ada shook her head. “No, but it’s alright. I’m… I’m glad to see everyone.”

“We’re glad to see you too,” Polly hummed, kissing both Ada and Evie’s cheeks. “Now. Stop nattering and get in. We have a wedding to get to and I don’t want to miss this for the world.”

The girls didn’t need to be told twice. They knew an order when they heard it. They had a wedding to get to after all. John’s wedding… God help them all.

---------

The ceremony was brief but pleasant. Even her father and Ada seemed to be getting on, grinning and teasing one another as Jonny completed the ritual, standing in front of the crowd gathered in the shipping yard the Lees currently called home.

Evie had never been to a gypsy wedding before. Not one like this, with so much colour and excitement for what was usually quite a somber ceremony according to the church she was used to. Yes, Esme - her newest relative - was wearing white as she made her way down the aisle, but that was pretty much where the resemblance ended. After all, when had church ever involved the use of a knife before? … or real blood?

Evie had clearly been going to the wrong services.

“That’s the mingling of the two bloods. Where two families become one family,” Jonny explained, grinning ear to ear as Esme and John clasped hands together. The look on their faces said it all. “I now pronounce you, man and wife! Go on John, kiss the bride, will you?”

The cheer was instantaneous, as were the celebrations that followed.

Evie was quick to hug and congratulate John and his new bride. To her relief, he seemed happy - excited even, and who could blame him? Esme was gorgeous. After a few moments of talking, Evie had also deduced that she was wild and almost as much of a true gypsy as Polly. She was also kind, witty and clever - she had to be if Tommy had accepted her to join their family, their side of this now resolved conflict. He wouldn’t have accepted just anyone and yet again, they were all forced to have faith he knew what he was doing.

That didn’t mean Evie had to hold it against Esme. No matter how she’d joined the Shelby clan, she was a Shelby nonetheless and Evie knew better than most how daunting it was to join such a clan as this.

“Congratulations,” she smiled once more, kissing John’s cheek and nodding at his bride. “Be good to one another.”

“We will be.”

“And welcome to the family, Esme.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, grinning as John slid his arm about her waist and held her close.

Evie took that as her cue to leave the newly weds to it. As it was, one of the younger Lee boys had decided to take advantage of the fact she was currently by herself, lingering by the now raging dance floor.

He was quick to stand beside her, taking her hand and shoot her a teasing grin. “Fancy a dance?”

Evie automatically went to decline, but changed her mind. He was handsome and the night was young. “Why not?” she shrugged. It was a night of peace and celebration after all. “Just don’t blame me if I stand on your toes.”

With that, she let him grab her other hand and spin her into the crowd. She didn’t know the steps, if there even were any, nor did she know the song the band were singing. All she knew, was that she felt weightless, skipping about with her partner.

“I’m Antony,” he grinned, bellowing to be heard over the violin and drumbeats.

“Evelyn!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Evelyn Shelby!”

Give it five more minutes, and several broken toes, and she’d see if he still felt that way after all.

------

Just because the light soon disappeared, didn’t mean the celebrations did. In fact, as candles and lanterns were lit, so too were everyones spirits; There were drinks being poured, games of cards being won, and at one point - gunshots and fireworks.

It was official, Evie loved weddings. Particularly, Shelby weddings.

She also liked dancing and was not looking to stop anytime soon. She’d danced with multiple partners, making her way around the floor before finally ending up beside her aunt. For a pregnant woman, Ada was doing rather well at keeping up.

To be honest, if Evie was having fun, then Ada was on a whole other level. It was almost hysterical watching as her aunt spun and cheered and staggered about the place. After weeks, months even, without her, she was glad to have her back and making mischief with her.

“Fuck. I missed dancing!”

“That’s not dancing!”

“It is!” she protested, snagging Evie’s arm and spinning her around and around. “I should know. I taught you, didn’t I?”

Evie erupted into laughter at the memory. “I think we broke Polly’s vase when you tried to dip me!”

“And her clock with that lift!”

Both girls erupted into further laughter, tears trickling down their cheeks. All Evie could see was the memory of her aunt Polly’s face as she’d come into the kitchen to find Ada lifting Evie over her head, surrounded by broken china and glass.

“God! I’ve missed you,” Evie whined, hugging Ada close as her emotions over took her for a second. Her aunt didn’t seem to mind though as she hugged her back tightly.

“I’ve missed you too. We should never go this long without speaking ever again.”

“Fine by me. After the baby’s born, we should go dancing together.”

“Fuck yes!”

As if proving her enthusiasm for the idea, Ada began to twirl all over again, faster and more manically than before. Apparently it was enough to worry her family. Arthur was by their side in an instant.

“Come on, Ada. Enough now. Enough,” he tried, to no avail. He went to reach for her, only for her to spin away faster. “Ada.”

Even Tommy was coming over from his seat, sighing as he approached. That was enough to knock the smile from Evie’s face, especially as she noticed Polly’s concerned expression. What did they expect? Ada had always enjoyed living vicariously and she’d been locked away for weeks.

“Ada,” her father coaxed, addressing her like some spooked animal. “Come on, have a rest. Sit down now.”

“Come and look, Esme! Look at the family you’ve joined!” Ada bellowed in reply. “Come look at the man who runs it, who picks his brother’s wives for them!”

Evie turned, an apology already on her lips as John and Esme were startled from their own celebrations. She could see John was about to say something less than nice to his drunk, pregnant sister.

“He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and tried to kill his own brother-in-law!”

“Ada, that’s enough!” Arthur urged, as both Polly and Tommy closed in.

“Now, he won’t even let me have a fucking dance!-”

“Ada!”

“-Not even at a fucking wedding,” she seethed, glaring at Tommy whilst Polly tried to wrap her arms around her niece and guide her to a chair.

“Sit her down,” John pleaded.

Jesus. Every Shelby was involved now. Only Finn appeared to be missing and he was too busy playing with the Lee children to care. Else, he’d have found it hilarious.

“Calm down, Ada. Calm down.”

However, Ada’s face was anything but calm. In fact, it looked horrified. Polly only had to glance down to know why.

“Holy shit.” She sighed. “Water. Right.”

“Bloody hell Ada,” Arthur groaned. “You do pick your times.”

“Her water’s broke!”

“I didn’t plan this!”

“Right we need to move.”

“Get off me, Tom.”

Everyone erupted into chaos. Evie lost track of who was talking or even in charge of the scene. She simply followed, excitement and panic coursing through her as she took Ada’s hand and squeezed.

“Evie?”

“I’m right here,” she promised, helping towards the waiting car. “I swore it at the beginning and I meant it. You’ll always have me. I’m not going anywhere. Not until we have a screaming baby in your arms.”

-----------

Screaming.

So much screaming.

It was official - Evie was never having a baby.

“It hurts!”

“I know,” Polly cooed, manoeuvring the sheets about as she peered up from her position between Ada’s parted legs. “If it didn’t it wouldn’t be called labour.”

“I want Freddie!”

“Ada-”

“Please!” she sobbed, laying her sweaty head back against Evie’s chest. Despite Polly’s warning Evie had chosen to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere. Even if she knew nothing about delivering a baby, she knew all about loving and supporting her family. She and Ada had been there for each other time and time again.

Nothing had changed, just because Ada was married.

“You can do this,” Evie whispered, kissing her aunt’s damp brow. “Freddie’s on his way. You heard Polly. Dad’s given his word. Freddie can come. He’ll be here any second.”

“So will this little one,” Polly urged as Ada yelped again, a contraction cutting off the conversation. “Keep going. That’s right. Push.”

And to her credit, she did. Ada pushed, screaming and crushing Evie’s hand in the process. Yet, Evie wouldn’t have had it any other way. Her heart was racing as within the span of mere minutes she heard the soft cries of a baby.

Ada’s baby.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, hugging Ada tightly as she tried to catch her breath. Polly and Esme were doing their part, cleaning and tidying everything below before presenting the baby to its mother. “You did it, Ada. You did it.” “I did,” she giggled, almost deliriously. She looked like she could have slept for weeks.

“Ada. Congratulations, darling. It’s a boy.” Polly’s voice broke them from their celebration as they turned their eyes downward to the cloth wrapped bundle now being passed their way. Soft, tiny fingers poking out were all Evie could see as she gaped at her new cousin.

She wanted to cry. Damn it, Ada and Polly actually were crying, as was the baby. It was a room of crying people. All shedding happy tears though.

“A baby boy,” Ada whispered, staring at the bundle in her arms.

Then they heard it.

The door banging below.

“Ada! Come on! Open up!”

“Freddie,” Ada whimpered, exhausted eyes turning to the hall. She didn’t even have to ask. Polly was already half way down the stairs. The already perfect moment would now be complete, as would their family now that the father had arrived. Just in time too.

He would get to meet his son.

Evie couldn’t have been happier for Ada, grinning as she heard Freddie’s frantic footsteps approaching. The look on his face as he burst into the room was awestruck.

Then again, seeing his wife, beaming ear to ear, cradling their newborn in her arms tended to have that affect on a person.

“It’s a boy, Freddie,” Ada whispered.

Freddie simply blinked. His smile grew as he took the invitation, approaching slowly before perching on the stool next to them. Evie was quick to move aside, allowing him to take her place as he reached over and took the bundle for himself.

One look was all it took.

He was in love.

“It’s a beautiful baby boy,” he gaped, much to everyone’s amusement. Polly even wiped her eyes hastily, as if trying to hide her tears of joy. “There you go. Welcome to the world, son. Welcome to the world.”

His tone was of wonder and of euphoria as he stared down at the boy in his arms. Who knew what he was thinking.

Was that how her father would have looked, had he been there for her birth? Would he have stared at her like she was his entire world? Evie gulped at the thought. It was stupid to think of such things, but she couldn’t help it. A small part was jealous as she witnessed the tender tableau before her.

The truth was, her mother had probably been alone. Who had she had as a friend to hold her hand or assist with the birth? Maybe their neighbours? They were always kind to them, looking out for the small family. Still, it wouldn’t have been like this, that much Evie was sure of. Not full of love and support.

Her mother had had her reasons, Evie knew that. It just didn’t make witnessing what they could have had any less painful.

“What are you going to call him?”

“Karl,” Ada grinned, answering Esme’s question. “After Karl Marx.”

“Who?”

“Bloody hell,” Polly sniggered. “Karl’s a lovely name, Ada.”

A lovely name for a lovely boy. Evie was about to say as much when there was yet another knock at the door. Well, knock probably wasn’t the right word, not when the door rattled under the weight of their visitor’s fist.

“Police! Open up!”

Everyone froze. No one knew what to do.

The Police? The Police were here? Why? How?

“Oh god,” Evie choked, reaching instinctively for Ada and taking her hand. She also watched as Polly was quick to snatch Karl out of his father’s arms and placed him securely back with his mother.

That was all they had time for as the door burst open down below. Everything that followed for the next five minutes was pure pandemonium. Evie didn’t even know where to look. She lost track with the sudden surge of bodies in the house, all arguing and brawling, dragging Freddie outside with them.

Esme was vicious in her attempts to defend her new family. Polly too, was screaming blue murder as she tried and failed to stop them. She was also gone, storming out mere moments after the Police had left.

No one needed to ask to know where she was headed, or whom she intended to see. “I’m gonna set this right,” she’d rambled, kissing a now hysterical Ada as she left.

How? How could anyone make this right? Evie didn’t know how it could have gone wrong. No one knew Freddie was here. Her father had given his word. He wouldn’t have lied to them… not today… not even he was that callous.

Right?

Evie wished she could be sure. However, she had bigger concerns than her father’s integrity to worry about; Ada was already pushing herself up, onto her feet, and trying to reach for her forgotten coat and shoes.

“I need to go home.”

“No,” Esme pleaded, trying to force her to sit back down by the fire. “You just gave birth. You need to rest.”

“What I need is my husband,” Ada sobbed. “I need to be out of this house!”

Evie took that as her cue to intervene, before her aunt did any damage to herself or anyone else in the room. “I’ll take you home, ok?” she offered, reaching for her arm. “We’ll take the car. Save you walking.”

“But-”

Whilst well intentioned, the look Evie passed Esme told her it was hopeless. She’d soon learn Shelby women did only what they wanted, when they wanted. Everyone else could be damned. Right now, Ada cared about one thing and one thing only: keeping herself and her baby safe. That meant getting as far from Shelby territory as possible.

“Tell Polly where we’ve gone if she comes back, ok?” Evie stated, nodding at Esme.

To her credit, Esme didn’t argue. She hurried to gather Ada’s things, helping Evie to assist her aunt and new-born cousin into the back of the waiting car. She even offered to accompany them.

“I know about babies and what needs doing now,” she explained, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll be more use to you there than sitting on my ass here.”

Evie and Ada were visibly grateful for her company; They were going to need all the help they could get.

-------------

It was hours before either Evie or Esme returned. In fact, the sun was already beginning to rise as Evie rounded the corner of Watery Lane, the engine humming as it bounced across the cobbles. Whilst she much preferred riding to driving, she’d learned all the same during the war. When there hadn’t been any men to drive anywhere.

Like riding, she loved the solitude and freedom driving offered. She only wished she could turn the car around and drive away from it all… anywhere else… anywhere but here would have been good enough for her.

Her rage had been steadily building with every moment that had passed since Freddie had been taken. By now, she was shaking as she controlled the urge to march inside her house and shoot the lot of them.

Instead, she ground to a halt, slamming the car door harder than necessary and barging her way into Watery Lane.

She’d hardly made it in the door before Polly was upon her, wide eyed and panicked.

“Is she-?”

“She’s alright, Pol,” Evie soothed, glad to see the immediate relief in Polly’s eyes. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be hurrying back to Ada the moment she could, to check on her for herself. “She’s sleeping. I made sure she ate and kept an eye on her. Esme did too. She’s there to help with feeding and stuff when the baby wakes. Ada just needs sleep.”

Her aunt’s face relaxed at the news, but her skin was still too pale. “She shouldn’t be alone. Not now.”

“She didn’t have much choice,” Evie spat, her eyes following to the guilty party. The one who had made this divide. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

She hadn’t even acknowledged the others in the room until that point, but now her stare was ice cold as she focused on them.

She snapped.

She grabbed the nearest item - a teapot of all things - and hurled it at his head. Luckily, Tommy dodged, meaning it shattered harmlessly against the wall. But the look of disbelief on his face was accurate enough.

“Oi!” he warned, hurrying to reach her before she could throw something else. Had John not wrapped his arms around her, she probably would have. There were several teacups she had always hated in particular, lying within reach in an open invitation. “Listen to me! I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” Evie bellowed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t-? Bullshit.”

Evie spat at him, breaking free of John and pushing him off of her.

“Pack it in!” he begged, rolling his eyes. “Tommy wouldn’t do this.”

Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. Evie knew in her heart they’d been betrayed. If not by her father then who was it? Who was she supposed to believe had this kind of information, other than family?

“First you dictated John’s life. Now theirs? Is there anyone you won’t control?”

“Evie-”

“Don’t,” she seethed, panting from the exertion. “Don’t touch me. If you had anything to do with this,” she warned, “then I’ll never speak to you again. Ever.”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Promise?”

“Promise! On your mother’s life.”

A stray tear escaped Evie’s eye as she turned and stormed back across to Polly. Such an oath had to be honoured until it was proven otherwise. But that didn’t mean Evie had to like it. So, she choose to leave her father where he stood: on shaky ground.

16 notes · View notes

gabrielbigbang · 3 years

Text

POSTING DATE: March 29th

AUTHOR: @senoritablack

ARTIST: @casslastheaven

STORY TITLE: Miscellaneous Drawer, Two Toothbrushes

BANG SIZE: Mega

RATING: Explicit

SHIPS: Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel (Background), Sam/OC (Briefly)

TAGS: Humor, Fluff, Slow Burn, Obliviousness, Enemies to friends to lovers, Angst, Domesticity, Canon Typical Violence, Canon divergence, Continuity errors, TW for mention of depression, TW for mention of homophobia, Top!Sam, Oral, Handjobs

SUMMARY: When Sam finds out that Gabriel's been resurrected and lying low in the bunker for months, he goes through the all stages of grief. There's denial, some anger, a brief stint in bargaining, but he skips depression and is forced into acceptance. Sam's so preoccupied with how Gabriel shouldn't fit into his life, that it takes him a year to realize that Gabriel's shown Sam that he does. Somewhere down the line all of Sam's routines change and it's all because Gabriel grossly overstays his welcome.

Excerpt below the cut...

EXCERPT: Sam expects old aches in new places. New grays are a non-issue. He accepts the latest latent hang up, re-emerging like a stalking piranha, biting him in the ass and holding on until he is so hurt and uncomfortable with himself, that he’s sighing curse words into the crook of his elbow before stubbornly hurling himself into the day. Sam will fix his bed, take a leak, then, and despite his aging body’s protest, there’s a quick warm-up before an hour sprint. Teeth brushing, showering, drying off and dressing is a short affair because his stomach will remind him that he’s fasted for 8 hours. He goes for something lean if he’s heading out for work. It's 3 eggs scrambled in an unforgivable amount of butter and the deli meat of the week between toast, if he’s to be at the bunker.

All to say, Sam's mornings come with little to no thought at all, pass with zero surprises and don't usually involve the reflection of a bare-ass archangel presumed to be dead. They don't include a seemingly not-dead archangel turning towards a shocked Sam at the counter to—without so much as a flush or hello—wash their hands and leave just as insouciant as they’d sauntered in. Matter of fact, Sam never stubs his toe trying to compose himself. He doesn’t, ever, make sounds like an angry chihuahua whose paw has been stepped on and doesn’t usually have reason to go for the gun strapped under the sink. So, he's never been prompted to limp after an assailant at ass o’clock in the morning, and in no instance beyond that, has his welcoming shot been responded to with an uninterested, “Oh, hey, Sam.”

The bullet falls to the polished concrete of the bunker with an almost comical ting and the sound reverberates in the silences that hangs between them.

“Who the hell are you?“ Sam asks after a beat.

Then he's not waisting anymore time, never lowering his gun as he toes towards his chest of drawers. He snatches the silver blade that lies there. The being wearing Gabriel's vessel has the audacity to look unimpressed.

“I get that I didn't replace the toilet roll the other night, but you didn't have to shoot." It says.

“I thought that Dean had—hold on—no, who are you?” Sam asks again.

“All archangel, kid, but sure, have at it.” The being says, extending a hand.

Sam pulls the being closer by the wrist and drives the sharp blade across the offered palm. There's blood but somehow the being looks more inconvenienced than in pain. Sam frowns. Then fixes his shoulders. He drags the being a few steps towards his bed, diving under his pillow for the holy water he stores there and washes over the already healing cut. But still, nothing. Not a demon either?

“What are you?” Sam demands this time.

“Already bored.”

“I won’t—” Sam says, backing the being into the closest wall with his forearm.

He presses deep into the being’s neck, waiting for it to choke, to splutter, to fight back. But it doesn't.

“Kinky.” It gurgles and goes slack against Sam’s increasing pressure.

“—ask again.”

The being frowns. Sam relents some.

“Company be damned, you come in any closer and I can’t be reliable for how my dick responds.” The being says.

Sam looks down and quickly back up again. His neck goes hot. When Sam rectifies the situation with some distance, he clears his throat.

“There's no way.”

“There was one way, obviously. Mean, I’m here aren’t I?”

“How? Was it another trick? How did you fool Lucifer? Were you in hiding all this time? What.”

“Does it really matter?" It asks.

“You're kidding right, yes! Yes, yeah, it matters, dude. If you're really who you say you are, how the hell are you here?”

“Well after saving your asses from being deity chow—you're welcome by the way—and having my own bro put me down for the long nap I sorta just… woke up.” It makes a a vague, sweeping gesture that does nothing to clarify what it's saying.

“You woke up—okay, sure, whatever. So was it Norse magic? Was it angelic? God himself? You’re not giving me a lot to go on.”

The being shrugs and with a snap, the room around them turns. The beings in a heavily pillowed wicker loveseat and Sam’s lying on a fold-out that’s a foot too short for him.

It's the snap that keeps Sam from protesting again, triggering a thunder of emotions, because he's momentarily thrusted into a reel of memory. Lewd suggestions and apparitions, and ludicrous just desserts. Cartoonish deaths, strawberry syrup, a steak, a plea, and finally, a Wednesday. Playing an angsty doctor, arrogant cop, game show contestant, playing their roles and winning. Thinking it’d been Loki, figuring out different. Figuring out what that meant. Sam remembers Gabriel. Gabriel the archangel, who’s mask they had confiscated all those years ago when they had trapped him in that holy oil, a mask they held in their hands well until they met again at the hour of his last jest. Before his more cunning brother saw through the trick and took his life. He gave Dean, Cas, and humanity a chance. He gave Sam a damn chance. And Sam felt like there was finally an x in the map, and all he had to do was stick to the trail. He felt hopeful. And Sam’s finding the rings again, thanks to Gabriel. He's saving the world. But then he’s falling. Burning. Despondent. Waking, remembering and not caring what he was. Waking, forgetting, uncovering and hating what he was.

When Sam’s brought back from the memories, he’s sure they’re the same being. Sam didn't expect to grieve Gabriel's death. But he did. He wasn’t a friend. He was barely an ally. He simplified it to empathy, in the end, knowing what it meant to acknowledge every mistake but not live long enough to correct them and stoped being confused by the feelings. Eventually, he stopped wondering about Gabriel's what-ifs all together. Still, it's been years. Sam swallows down the mixture of new and old hurt, keeps in everything he wants to ask, to argue. He bolts upright, stares at the being, after Gabriel, because even as experience gives reason enough to deny all this, his instincts won't let him. It’s totally Gabriel. Gabriel with all his five foot eight of inexhaustible condescension, looking at Sam with familiar honey-colored haughtiness, lips curling as if he knows all of the embarrassing thoughts and misgivings that Sam wakes up to. Gabriel, using humor as his sword, aflame and so bright, that it wards off anyone who can’t be bother to wait long enough. But Sam had waited for the fire to die down before. He could wait again.

#Gabriel Big Bang #Supernatural #Gabriel #Sam Winchester #Sabriel

30 notes · View notes

meet-the-decoy · 4 years

Note

Hey Decoy! What exactly is your role on the battle field?

MEET THE DECOY

Description

It isn't hard to see that she is the fairest one on the team. Decoy isn't afraid to use her feminine touch to her advantage and being on a team with mostly men has it's perks. But don't be fooled, this girl isn't as sweet as she looks. She's a babe with quite a bite.

Primary

Stock

- Duel pistols: (ammo 12/36 each)

Craft

- Boxing glove gun: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to punch an opponent with as much force as a Heavy.

- Pole vault: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy a 20% boost on acrobatics.

-Mini canon: (ammo 20)

Is similar to Soldier's rocket launcher. Each shot takes several seconds to reload but gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down agility.

Uncrate

- Chainsaw: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage at close range. Won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Bear trap: (ammo N/A)

Traps enemies for several seconds while giving mini crits. Can only be used once every 30 seconds.

- Water pistols: (ammo 100 each)

Counteracts Pyro fires. This weapon extinguishes teammates that are ablaze as well as sapping the enemy Engineer's buildings.

Secondary

Stock

- Hand grenades: (ammo 20)

Craft

- Fireworks: (ammo 20)

This weapon creates flash bangs and blinds the enemy for several seconds and can also light enemies on fire depending on range.

- Taser: (ammo N/A)

Electrifies enemies and paralyzes them for up to 3 seconds. Effects enemies differently. Has a cool down time of 3 seconds.

- Sling shot: (ammo 20)

Let's Decoy launch grenades just as far as a Demoman, letting her throw them farther then she originally could. It can also be used to launch health kits to teammates.

- Water Balloons: (ammo 20)

Extinguishes teammates who are on fire. It also washes way Jarate from teammates who may be covered in it.

Uncrate

- Throwing knives: (ammo 12)

Allows Decoy to trick stab like a Spy but at longer distances. Can be used during acrobatics.

- Playing cards: (ammo 3 decks)

Cards can slice enemies to inflict damage. Cards can be boomeranged back to be reused if thrown correctly.

- Grappling hook: (ammo N/A)

Gives Decoy the ability to get to higher nesting spots with ease. Boosts acrobatics by 5%. Grapple can be shot at enemies to finish off kills.

Melee

Stock

- Bullwhip: (ammo N/A)

Craft

- Chain: (ammo N/A)

Gives critical damage to enemies. Slows down acrobatics by 15% as a result.

- Spider net: (ammo 8)

Bounds enemies for several seconds. This also leaves the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical damage.

- Roller skates: (ammo N/A)

Allows Decoy to match the speed of that of a Scout. Decoy won't be able to preform acrobatics as a result.

- Megaphone: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's vocals and lures enemies easier.

Uncrate

- Lipstick: (ammo N/A)

Ables Decoy to give a teammate ÜberCharge for 3 seconds by kissing them. This weapon also restores a teammates health by 50%. Gives critical damage to enemies.

- Mirror: (ammo N/A)

Blinds the enemy for 3 seconds by shining light in the enemy's eyes. This weapon is most effective on Snipers.

- Ribbon wand: (ammo N/A)

Steals 15% of an enemy's ammo. Ammo can be given to other teammates or can be used personally.

- Perfume: (ammo N/A)

Amplifys Decoy's lures. Perfume can also be used to disorient enemies for several seconds. No man can resist the smell of flowers and gunpowder.

PDA

Primary

- Acrobatics

Secondary

- Vocal

Special Taunts

• Song Bird

This taunt makes enemies vision blur whenever they get to close to her singing. This makes the enemy vulnerable and more likely to receive critical hits.

• Damsel in Distress

This taunt gives Decoy the ability to make enemies hurt their own teammates. Every shot that hits a teammate will lower their health depending on distance different variables. Can only be used once every 3 minutes.

• Blowing Kisses

This taunt has the Decoy blow a kiss at the enemy. Whoever the kiss lands on receives critical damage. If the kiss lands on a teammate, it restores their health by 15%.

• Love Me, Love Me Not

This taunt has Decoy pick pedals off of a flower. If a heart appears, then the enemy walks free. If a broken heart appears then the enemy receives critical damage. This taunt gives a 50/50 chance each time it is used.

• Love Potion No.9

Can be slipped into any food or beverage. Once consumed, the enemy cannot hurt Decoy up to 10 seconds. This taunt can only be used 3 times during a match.

• Milkshake

In this taunt, Decoy pulls out a tray and proceeds to make and serve milkshakes to anyone who takes them. Decoy serves any flavor of milkshake to her teammates to boost their health level much like Heavy's Sandvich, but is far sweeter.

Achievements

• Master Maiden: Achieve over 50 'Blowing Kisses' taunt kills.

• Golden Gal: Seduce kill each class in one round.

• Lucky Lady: Dodge 5 airblasted rockets using acrobatics.

• Flirting with Death: Lure a Scout over 100 times

• Here to Save The Day: Protect a struggling teammate more than 5 times in one round.

• The Angelic Acrobat: Save a teammate over 20 times by throwing back a Demoman's grenade using acrobatics.

• Dangerous Dame: Seduce kill 500 times.

• Kiss it Better: Heal over 75 teammates using 'Blowing Kisses' taunt or by using Lipstick melee.

Domination Lines

SCOUT

"So you're the fastest man alive, huh? Is that why you can't get a date?"

"Why so red tough guy?"

"I like a guy who can make me laugh."

"Hey, my eyes are up here scooter."

"Your ass must be pretty jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth."

SOLDIER

"If I threw a stick, you’d leave, right?"

"Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once in awhile, but you really abuse the privilege."

"You look good with black and blue."

"Are you always such an idiot, or do you just show off when I’m around?"

"I was hoping for a battle of wits but it would be wrong to attack someone who’s totally unarmed."

PYRO

"I AM a woman, what's your excuse?"

"Still think your on fire?"

"What in the hell? What are you supposed to be?"

"Did things get really hot in here, or is it just me?"

"Earth is full. Go home."

ENGINEER

"Whoopsie, did I do that?"

"Look at the cute little toys! Can I play with one?"

"You only annoy me when you’re breathing, really."

"Your birth certificate is an apology to your parents from the hospital."

"How impressive! You can put your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass at the same time!"

HEAVY

"So... do you name your guns because you can't get a real date or?..."

"Oh wow, this must be pretty embarrassing for you."

"Are your compensating for something?"

"Jesus christ, You’re so fat you could sell shade."

"You are the human version of period cramps."

DEMOMAN

"Sorry, but you won't be able to drink away the alcoholism."

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, you'll lose your accent."

"*sad crying that turns into cruel laughter*"

"You’ll never be the man your mom is."

"Nice onesie, does it come in men's?"

"Aww, Do you need me to kiss your boo-boo better?"

MEDIC

"Excuse me nurse, could you take a look at this for me?"

"They took your license away for a reason doctor."

"Oh! I like your dress!"

"If laughter is the best medicine, your face must be curing the world."

SNIPER

"That's disgusting."

"Isn’t there a bullet somewhere you could be jumping in front of?"

"Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you need to act like one."

"I’ve been called worse by better."

"There’s no doubt about it. Your father should have pulled out earlier."

SPY

"Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey croissant, your fly’s undone."

"If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty."

"Acting like a prick doesn’t make yours grow bigger."

"Je n'ai jamais pensé rencontrer un homme sans couilles."

DECOY

"You're not cute sweetheart."

"See, this is why the men don't take us seriously."

"Nice outfit. I bet if you stood on a street corner, you’d make some money."

"Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hate me because your boyfriend thinks so."

"I’ve seen your kind before…but last time, I had to pay admission.

Backstory

Decoy (Delilah Lou Rose) was born April 1st, 1941 in a backstage tent and grew up as a acrobatic clown in the Canadian Circus.

She was brought to the Administrator's attention when she slaughtered a total of 12 men with ease during a break in and attempted assault. A meeting with Saxton Hale eventually led to a job offer. Needing the money, she takes a job with the Gravel wars, thinking it was a show. Once she realizes that it is in fact not a show, but a place where men kill each other, it's too late.

Delilah Lou became a new class called the Decoy, where she would lure unsuspecting men to their death. It wasn't long before she fell in love with the job and grew strong friendships with her coworkers.

76 notes · View notes

merryfortune · 3 years

Text

Maiden, Mother, Crone

Written for the Heart & Soul Zine by @aygozineproduction

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 2.7k

Tags: References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Mother Complex, Mother-Son Relationship, Suicidal Themes, Angst, Canon Retelling

Synopsis: An examination of Spectre's life and his relationship with his mother and her avatar, Sunavalon Dryatrentiay, through the mythological lens of Adonis and his struggles, supplemented with the concept of the triple goddess.

i. Maiden

He was born to a tree, like Adonis, or so Spectre fancied. The actuality was not quite so whimsical. He had been abandoned, simple and cruel and true as that. He had been placed there, in the roots of her trunk, to become forgotten and to become the earth. Yet, in this place he was left to die, he felt held there. Comforted. The tree shuddered as that person abandoned him and she, the tree, took him in to love him as only a mother could.

The moon, he remembered, was beautiful. Glimpsed through the foliage of his Mother Tree. It was wide and shining, a holy disc of distant silver. Serene and splendid in the night sky, surrounded by its family, the stars. It was a perfect night, cool but not cold. If only she, his Mother Tree, could hold him and if only he could be held by her, but he slept in peace with her as his guardian until he was discovered by more of his humankind, the woman from the orphanage.

The woman was twenty-something, yet to come to her prime, yet to become a mother herself, and yet she had heard some sort of maternal calling that had brought her to her current occupation. But her arms felt wrong to be held in. He wanted to be returned to her, his mother, the tree, but instead his cries were misinterpreted.

It felt wrong to him to be held in human arms. It felt wrong to him to be cared for by a human. From when he was an infant, he could feel a call back to nature, that he could be more properly nurtured in the shade of foliage and the grass. He tried to describe it, but he was laughed at – and worse – for being just that little bit strange.

He didn’t feel strange. Just lonely and yearning.

He kept listening to that call. That urge. And eventually, it brought him back to her. Even though his legs were short, and his hands were small, he was able to return to his Mother’s side, where she waited in that meadow, for him, welcoming him back. He was able to rest better there, nestled in the grass at her roots.

It was when he was missing that he felt the most at home.

The uniqueness of his psyche further differentiated from his peers when he was returned to what was supposed to have been the Underworld. To him, it had been the field of Elysium. When he played his cards right, on that stage, wearing those VR goggles, all around him he would see the tall and sparkling flowers of that hallowed place in digital wonder.

He felt tested within that crucible for better, not for worse. He wanted to do his best for them, even if he didn’t know who they were but he was right. If he saw them, he would know them and when he saw Ryoken, he knew right away. That he was connected to that Incident and that he could bring back the fun times that Spectre desired.

He simply could not settle for that life. Ordinary and attempting to be undisturbed. He wasn’t allowed to talk about his experiences, and when he did, he was scolded harshly. Told that he was wrong about even his own feelings. Raging against this stifling conformity that was making it worse, he knew that he had to seek out the only one in his life whom he knew would understand.

It was then that he discovered something ghastly. His Mother Tree had been chopped down. Cleaved straight and horizontally, just above his diminutive height as a six-year-old. His hands clutched onto what remained of her as he sobbed. The final twig inside of him had snapped. He wanted to disappear, for good this time, and having Ryoken reappear before him at that place had been the perfect opportunity.

Just as Adonis had pledged an adoring loyalty to Aphrodite, Spectre pledged adoring loyalty to Ryoken, similarly of seafoam and had eyes like the ocean basked in starlight. To reward this devotion, Revolver gifted Spectre a deck and Spectre’s heart could have stopped as he turned over the first card on top and he saw her once more. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay. His beloved Mother. Or at least an avatar she could use within this unreal realm akin to how he wore mourning dove white that he was clad in here.

Her card glistened in the low light of the Knights of Hanoi’s virtual headquarters and Spectre’s eyes watered. She was beautiful, his heart surged, and he smiled with the most fantastic gratitude. He loved her so much.

ii.Mother

Reunited with her, Spectre felt at peace once more. Living side by side with Ryoken, he had a place that he could belong to. He finally had that pocketful of grass and leaves and twigs to cherish and one that couldn’t be taken away from him unlike at the orphanage where he was scolded for such behaviour.

Speaking of the orphanage, it was quieter here in the mansion compared to the dormitory for unfortunates that he had hailed from, but he liked it. He could keep things on his bedside table without the fear they would be spirited away by morning come for all sorts of reasons, most stemming from a sense of punishing him.

At his bedside, he could keep things like his deck of Sunavalon and Sunvine cards without fear. Having them near consoled him as a mother was comfort personified and whenever Spectre held her card in his hands, he felt it. And he needed comfort. And he needed it right now, desperately. Perhaps more than anyone would ever know.

The room around him was murky and indigo. He woke suddenly. Ripping himself from the sheets, he tried to evade the flickering flames of his nightmare. Fire. He hated fire. His eyes were wide but useless in the dark as his head pounded with the wretches of his nightmare. In his wobbling ache, he looked forward, from his upright position in his bed, and the first thing he saw in a gleaming shaft of silver – either moonlight or streetlight, it was difficult to ascertain – the calendar on his desk across the room was blinding. The neat squares of it were cryptically crossed off. He took a pitiful breath as he tried to calm himself in the face of such an omen.

Every day the final assault against the Ignis inched closer and Spectre had no regrets. It had to be done and for his master’s cause, Spectre would lay down his life without hesitation.

After all, he was like Adonis. Born to a tree, grew up in the Underworld, devoted to Aphrodite, and would die before he could choose another love for himself after his previous two of where he had been tested and where he had been proved. Thus, destroying the Ignis, even his own, was fateful payment as bittersweet as it was. Yet telling himself such stories did falter. Angels were not real and even he had his moments of weakness.

Just because he had such certainty of his devotion did not mean he was impervious to other fears. He was not exempt from doubt and other things which would eat at the edge of his consciousness when he was frayed or scared. He was many things and of those things, he was especially a coward. A coward and a mama’s boy.

With a long-suffering breath, Spectre tore his gaze away from the calendar. His eyes hurt and he put his hand on his face. His fingers scrunched in against his skin and he forced himself to calm down from the nightmare and the harrowing realisation that it was all nature to want to live, to survive, even against such fatalness like what was asked of him as a member of the Knights of Hanoi’s upper echelon. That fatalness was transformed in his mind – into fire, into separation and abandonment, tangible fears he has had since he was a child – as he knew the end for him would not be a bang but a whimper. He could feel his breath on his hand.

Slowly, he turned, and his heart skipped a beat as he faced his bedside table. By his lamp, that he would not turn on, he saw the physical stack of the cards that he used in the Link VRAINS. Forever and always near. He smiled softly, fondly. It was polite convention that the art of cards was kept face down, Spectre didn’t disagree, but he always kept his extra deck on top and in a precise order, a hierarchy not unlike a matriarchal family, so that the first card that he flipped over would be her.

He removed her gently from his deck and he felt soothed by his Mother’s face, as obscured in the dark as it was. Contentment pooled in his chest as he projected his perfect recollection of Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s face onto the card which was black and inky in his hand. He breathed shallowly, calmly, until he thought that he could rest again as he imagined Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s hand caressing him, cooing a lullaby at him. He smiled but there was a twitch in his lower lip. He repressed a sob.

Spectre withdrew into his bed once more, pulling up the doona and he held Sunavalon Dryatrentiay close. The slim edge of her card just ghosting along the side of his face. He pulled up his legs. Where he usually slept like a log, he would try to sleep like a baby. Thumb in his mouth included, he closed his eyes against the welling of tears that he felt, ignoring the red and orange phosphenes on his eyelids, like embers of his nightmare. Fire. He hated it. He was afraid of it.

iii. Crone

Unfortunately, fear was useless for a Knight and Spectre vied to be nothing if not useful. Going into battle, there was nothing that Spectre wouldn’t do for Revolver. Their goals – Revolver’s goals – were noble. Gallant.

Staring down Playmaker, there was no cowardly feat that Spectre would never consider nor execute if it meant getting Revolver’s way. Using pawns like Zaizen to encumber Playmaker, using Playmaker’s lame sense of justice against him. Yes, to him, being called a dirty cheater were truly high words of wonderful praise if it meant that the end was not only justified but achieved.

But seeing her fall, Spectre’s mind returned to that vermillion evening when he had found his Mother’s tree trunk. His heart wrenched and he tuned out how Playmaker spoke. A most gallant duologue between Ignis and Origin highlighting Playmaker’s sense of justice and how his victory appeared to be within reach with Spectre’s sacred Mother Tree in the graveyard.

Hearing such valiant drivel ignited the fervour inside of Spectre. His muscles twitching beneath the stiffness of his white jacket as he kept his fist close by his side. His stomach knotted with disgust. Lilac petals fluttered loosely on the wind, entwining with scattered blue data. Bit by bit, she degraded and Spectre could only watch as she vanished. That vanishing left wreaked grief on both his eyes and his heart.

He turned around, swift on his heel, spittle on his lips, and he roared, “How dare you? My sacred Mother Tree!”

A good mother was slow to anger but when you hurt her child, her fury and rage would be sublime. A force of nature. And Spectre could not have been wounded more, in between such retched trickery from the so-called hero of this story which had caused his Mother Tree to be felled once more.

“I activate the Continuous Spell Card,” Spectre’s hand thrust forward, “Sunavalon Cursed Reborn!” His voice was stern, if hasty, as he explained the effect of the card. He was rabidly eager to use it against Playmaker.

Upon the command of his Spell Card upturned, the emptied field of their Master Duel, barren and ravaged, glowed as the continuous Spell Card was activated. Roots and vines, beet purple, erupted from beneath the cement of the bridge. From this digital nether of the Graveyard, Spectre’s darling Sunavalon Dryatrentiay emerged. Reborn. A crone. Face full of fangs, eyes ablaze with violent hues of violet, and sharp teeth bared. All of her surged forward, shaken free of her verdant foliage, as she tried to protect her precious son.

It was all or nothing. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay’s effects were negated but for every link she had – four, four like death – she gained one thousand Attack Points. He would risk life and limb for one last gamble, even if it meant transmuting her gentle beauty in hideous ferity. He would not allow Playmaker to upheave their justice. The Ignis would be terminated, for the greater good. Spectre would go through the Underworld, through Elysium and the Mourning Fields, through Styx and the Asphodel Meadows: anything for the means of Revolver’s ends.

Yet it was, distinctly, all for nought as he threw himself into this final assault against Playmaker and with the striking sword of Playmaker’s own Knight, the Excode Talker of the Wind Attribute, Spectre’s efforts were his best, as twisted as they were, but still not enough. His Mother Tree was slain once more, through the trunk, and he took not just the damage of the Duel but of other pains, too.

Playmaker won. He lost. It was as simple as that. Playmaker’s convictions were stronger than his devotion. It was as complicated as that.

The cables of the Bridge began to break for a third time. Not with a snap but with an inferno. The tarmac of the road began to crack, and Playmaker launched himself forward with purpose where Spectre could only saunter languidly. He wondered, madly, what afterlife there was for someone like him with only downwards to go. Then, he wondered, sanely, hopefully, that Revolver would put a stop to this madness, defeating Playmaker who could only go forward.

Walking into the inferno, he laughed. He wasn’t sure what it was about the prospect of certain doom, but it was hilarious. Arms outspread, begging for one last embrace from his dear mother, he walked into the flames where he saw her visage. Sunavalon Dryatrentiay was waiting for him and with every step he took, he remembered something sweet. Something kind. His upbringing may not have been ideal, but he found it idyllic, nonetheless. The moments of his childhood where he had the opportunity to bond with his mother; clambering atop her limbs, sleeping amid her roots, every memory took him further and further back unto his rebirth. He did not remember being abandoned but he remembered being adopted.

Walking into that blaze, Spectre had just one hope in his heart as it would be her face which would be the last thing that he would ever have the good fortune of seeing. He hoped that he had been a good son to her. His Myrrha. The mother of Adonis. She who had been rejected by society and transformed into a tree for her incestuous transgressions. Spectre could empathise. He knew how heartbreaking it could be to be rejected and punished.

He just hoped that it hadn’t been an illusion, that the very real love that he felt unto her, who accepted him when his own blood and kin did not, had not been an infantile dream or projection. With tears streaking through his grin and his laughter, he just wanted to know if he had been a good son to her, his Mother Tree, his Sunavalon Dryatrentiay and loved in equal measure as he had loved her.

Thus, it wasn’t enough to simply have been born like Adonis, to a tree which desired nothing more than to protect him, and it had not been enough to live like Adonis either, in rich devotion of Ryoken, his starry-eyed Aphrodite who was both wicked and noble, but he must die like Adonis, too, with his heart pierced, for it was better to die loved, laughing with bushels of yellow and orange anemone flowers growing out of his mouth and his heart, better to die as ash and data than to be abandoned or worse, unneeded by whom he loved.

#aygozineproduction #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #spectre (vrains)#specter (vrains)#writing tag #spectre my beloved i love you so much this is my masterpiece

8 notes · View notes