#Its literally called Shrike | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sclfmastery · 2 years

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I posted 2,442 times in 2022

458 posts created (19%)

1,984 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mostincrediblechange

@the-patrex

@themastergifs

@conduitandconjurer

@koscheioakdown

I tagged 1,750 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#ooc - 520 posts

#ic - 189 posts

#master of a nothing place (dhawan) - 171 posts

#dw spoilers - 158 posts

#i'm alive (simm) - 118 posts

#thoschei - 63 posts

#meta - 50 posts

#lol - 46 posts

#lmao - 45 posts

#ownership enough (ten) - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#for the longest time thirteen was my favorite doctor because her seeming optimism was an antidote to twelve's horribly depressing end

My Top Posts in 2022:

This is the most perfect encapsulation of what I do with every single piece of canon, LOL.

100 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

There was nothing in sight But memories left abandoned There was nowhere to hide The ashes fell like snow And the ground caved in Between where we were standing And your voice was all I heard That I get what I deserve

So give me reason To prove me wrong To wash this memory clean Let the floods cross The distance in your eyes Give me reason To fill this hole Connect this space between Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies Across this new divide

(He’s baaaack...... )

108 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

also is no one talking about how the Master’s new TARDIS is a reflection of an utterly deranged, past-all-hope mindset of hostile yet desperate mimicry? its interior is a complementary foil and ideological inverse of hers:

LITERALLY, the same exact structure, to “mock” her, yes, but come on. It’s more than that, and so are the outfits. I called this years ago and again one month ago. He is so preoccupied by the fact that they are no longer equals, because his identity is a REACTION to HERS. to have no selfhood anymore because he can no longer claim to be her peer has BROKEN him. LITERALLY THIS INTERIOR IS A PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF THE INSIDE OF HIS MIND. BRIGHT AND COLD AND BLUE AND PURPLE LIKE A BRUISE, WHEREAS HER TARDIS IS WARM YELLOWS AND GOLDS AND LIKE A BREATH OF LIFE.

i wish someone could capture and rehabilitate him. like i literally want him to go to a mental health facility. this is only going to get worse each time he reappears. i want to laugh about the gimmick of it but it’s actually DEEEPLY tragic???

121 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

(Very) belated happy birthday, @mostincrediblechange, my creative partner in crime ;)

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn --Hozier

144 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So to jump off of a Tweet I made (I’m Ambs):

No but really. Indulge me for a moment.

The Master thinks of Tecteun’s discovery of the Timeless Child as a despicable disgusting thing; he’s too angry and hurt at the Doctor to consciously recognize that his disgust isn’t just at “everything I am is somehow because of you”--it’s ALSO at the fact that his best friend was killed over and over and experimented on as a child AS THE FOUNDATION OF AN ENTIRE CIVILIZATION.

The civilization to which HE belongs, which HE always thought entitled him to something akin to godhood ( “I’m a Time Lord, I have that right,” said Simm Master, during Ten’s era). Which, after absorbing the entire Matrix and all its knowledge, he is now aware is a GENOCIDAL LIE (“everything you know is a lie,” Spyfall Part 1). Including his identity. Far more importantly, including HER identity. “Call me by my name,” he demanded of her, on her knees (because, Doctor, you have always defined me and you always will, and I’m learning that’s inescapable. I have no autonomy, control, or mastery, over anything).

But the Master is nothing if not obsessive. He can’t let it go. He can’t accept this: especially after having been Missy in the Vault for 70 years, trying to placate the Doctor by “turning good,” and ending up killing and being killed by herself as thanks for it. So he’s off to work. First the Spyfall plot, including the encoded message (”why should I make it easy for you? It wasn’t for me”): that falls through quickly, and gives him 77 years among the worst pockets of humanity and human history, more pain and resentment in which to marinate.

Next, he absorbs the Cyberium and creates the Cyber Masters (the corpses of the Time Council and Lords, who have KNOWINGLY reaped the benefits of genocide, mutilated into Cybermen with the Doctor’s DNA). This is all mere ritual: he has no real desire to follow through with conquering the universe. He wants to die. He begs the Doctor to kill them both with the Death Particle. Then at last they’ll be equals again. She refuses, runs (because unlike him, she has other people to live for), and lets a human try to kill him instead. This won’t do.

So he escapes, and chooses to live a little longer.

Now, in Power of the Doctor, he decides, okay, if I can’t just kill us all, this awful lie of a “great civilization” build on the predation of my childhood best friend, I’m going to make it so that this entire scenario never occurred to begin with. He drops the Doctor a hint--as one always does, in the best of cat and mouse games (though he has told us, now, in his deepest state of despair, “it isn’t a game”). What’s the hint?

“This is the end of your existence. You will be ERASED.”

It’s that word--erased--that draws ALL my attention. Someone on Twitter noticed that what the Doctor is standing inside, when we see her regeneration energy being activated, and hear her calling “YAZ,” looks an awful lot like a LOOM.

Why’s that important? Because looms synthesize Time Lord offspring using genetic sequences.

So logically, they can undo those genetic sequences too.

What would happen if the Master robbed the Doctor of identity as completely as he has been robbed? In his mind, what makes her special, deserving of adulation, is her capacity to be immortal. He misses the idea that they are equals and foils. If he can’t make them equal again with a simple double suicide, then maybe he can extract the parts of her DNA that make her (in his mind) special.

Maybe the scene that we THINK is Thirteen’s regeneration is just a loom the Master is using to remove her ability to regenerate, period. And she’s screaming for Yaz because something has happened to Yaz, and if she can’t heal her with regeneration energy, Yaz will die.

And maybe the Master is TAKING that ability from her, to BECOME, in his mind, a SUPERIOR DOCTOR.

What if he’s found some way to prevent Tecteun from ever finding her--some causal chain of events that necessitates abducting earth seismologists and wiping certain famous earth artists from existence such that their paintings never existed (or maybe just the paintings, that’s not clear yet)? What if that’s why the Daleks were contacting the Doctor of all people for help--they are noticing parts of their history changing or going missing.

What if the Master has been able to create a functional temporal paradox (this might explain the two earths and two TARDISes) so that he and his “children” the Cyber Masters can go on existing, but simultaneously, the Doctor and the other Time Lords never came into being?

“You will be ERASED.”

269 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

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psychosistr · 2 years

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La Vie en Rose- Chapter 4

Summary: Something goes bump in the night and awakens our paranormal pair; something they can’t deal with on their own. It looks like they’ll need some special help to deal with this particularly powerful poltergeist...

Notes: This chapter’s much shorter than the last one, but there’s plenty of chills from both the spirit Wildcard and Bokor have to deal with as well as the being they need to call on for help. Mild trigger warning for possession, so proceed with caution!

-First Chapter-

There was a chill in the air- the kind that could be felt through whatever covers one curled themselves in as they tried in vain to keep it out. It was enough to rouse Wildcard from their sleep to either find the source or grab another blanket to ignore it until morning.

What they didn’t expect when they opened their eyes, though, was the sight of two piercing, softly glowing red eyes looking down at them mere inches from their face.

Wildcard jolted awake at that, feathers fluffing up in surprise as they grabbed their pillow and gave the offender a whack across the face with a small shriek. “What the HELL?!” They shouted, shifting themself away best they could. “I TOLD you, I HATE jumpscares!”

“!!” Rather than look offended by the sudden but soft hit, Bokor instead looked worried. Not giving his partner much time to respond or get away, the hawk quickly pressed one hand to their beak the first chance he got- the other raising a single finger to his own in a signal for them to be quiet.

The shrike stilled, breathing against his hand as they tried to calm down. Their eyes still looked at him with annoyance, but they were a FOWL agent, they knew there were plenty of situations that would require urgent silence. Especially being the particular agents they were with angry spirits around them. Wildcard waited a short while for their emotions to resolve before giving him a small nod.

Confident now that his partner wouldn’t make a sound, Bokor released their beak. Just in time too, it seemed, as the chill that woke them up initially had returned tenfold. Inclining his head behind them, the taller fowl made it clear what the source was.

There, floating around in the middle of the break room that had been converted into their temporary bedroom, was a rather old and decrepit looking spirit floating about aimlessly. Had it been something living, then its age would have implied weakness- as a spirit, however, it meant power. The ghost appeared to be ancient and practically radiated a bone-chilling energy that would’ve made weaker mediums pass out or scream in fright.

Wildcard stared at it intensely, feeling a similar sense of fear, but tried to shake it off. They didn’t want to let their partner down after all. As quietly as they could, they tried to shift themself in such a way to keep out of the spirit’s sight for now, not having a clear plan in mind and trying to figure out their next move.

Bokor carefully tapped the shrike on the arm to get their attention, trying not to startle them. When they did look at him, he moved one hand back and forth in front of his eyes- indicating a lack of sight. He then reached into his pouch and, as quietly as possible, retrieved an empty glass vial and tossed it across the room so that it shattered on impact.

The sound of the glass breaking caught the specter’s attention and, with a haunting shriek, it flew across the room to find the source of the sound.

They opened their beak in a silent “ah”, grateful for the clarity. Even with that fact solidified, they stared at their own shaking hands, trying to think of something, anything to do right now. That spirit looked like it could resist their puppeteering abilities which would just leave them vulnerable to worse options that would only hinder Bokor. But aside from that, they really weren’t sure what else they could do, making their nerves all the worse.

Sensing his partner’s mounting anxiety, Bokor decided to take the situation into his own hands.

Literally.

Without even asking (which he likely wouldn’t have done, even if talking had been an option), Bokor lifted the shrike up into his arms and carried them out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible.

Wildcard had to bite back a startled squeak, their face burning red from suddenly being held in such a manner. They knew they agreed that they wanted to test the waters of their partnership, but this felt so sudden for them it practically made their head spin. All they could really do was grip at his shirt tightly and press their face against him to hide away.

Bokor carried them out into the hall and took them into the kitchen, letting out a relieved sigh once they were in the relative safety of the already cleansed room. “Dhat one’s very strong. Think it melted dhe seal I put on dhe wall..”

“Y-Yeah…probably the one I felt from upstairs…” Their voice sounded squeaky, between keeping their volume low and the general embarrassment they had from being held like this. “C-Could you put me down now, please?”

“Hm? Oh, pardon, petites.” Bokor set the shrike down on one of the kitchen counters and gave them a slightly apologetic smile. “I figured one set of footsteps would be quieter dhan two, so I acted without thinking.”

“No, no, I completely get it, it’s just-” Wildcard cut themself off, shaking their head to refocus their priorities. “Why’d you have to stare at me like that though?! You really spooked me!”

Bokor…actually looked a little guilty over that one, unable to meet their gaze. “Désolé, mes chéries. I…didn’t mean to startle you. I was trying to figure out what to do- I was only dhere for a moment, but I guess it was dhe timing…”

They kept their gaze locked on him for a bit before sighing. “It’s alright, I trust you on that. It was just a bit startling waking up to someone right in front of your face, I wasn’t expecting it.” Wildcard dragged a hand across their face, feathers still askew and fighting off the drowsiness they had. “Nevermind. Let’s just try and focus on the bigger problem right now.”

Nodding, Bokor took in a breath and looked at the supplies he’d left in the kitchen. “D’accord. Dhis one feels very powerful. As much as I hate to admit it, dhis spirit might be a bit beyond my skills alone…”

“Aw, are you getting scared?” They teased, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. Placing a hand on his arm, Wildcard tried to keep his gaze. “You’re not doing this alone, you know. Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it, alright? That’s why I’m here.”

“I know, petites.” Bokor took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. “I think I have a plan…but it will be very risky. Do you still have dhat bag of five-pointed leaves I gave you, or is it back in dhe other room?”

“I have them.” Reaching into their vest, they brought out the plastic bag. Connecting the dots, Wildcard looked at him with worry. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, right?”

The hawk gave a quiet laugh. “Depends on your definition of ‘stupid’, I suppose.” Although he tried to act calm, there was a palpable amount of unease in the air around him. “I’m just..gonna ask my ‘landlord’ for some assistance.”

They shuddered at the memory of the wispy presence they saw before. Their hands reached up to gently hold the sides of his face. “Do you have to go that far? Isn’t there some other sort of weapon we can use against it? Henri, I don’t want you to get hurt…”

Their concern was touching, as it usually was, but Bokor knew that this would be the easiest way to dispatch the powerful spirit. “I’ll be fine, mes petites. I’ve handled him before, I can handle him now- dhis is part of what I ‘pay’ him for, after all.”

Wildcard seemed to pout at that, knowing he was right, but still not liking it. “Still…” Sighing, they took their hands back. “Alright. I said I trust you, and I mean it. But if you show signs of going awry, I��m sticking these leaves right on your head!”

Bokor gave a small but more genuine smile. “Dhat’s exactly what I’m counting on. Hopefully, though, dhat will be plan B.” Returning to the supplies he’d brought with him, the voodoo expert retrieved a canister of petrol and, weirdly enough, one of the small black chickens in its crate. “If you have dhe chance, dhe better option is t’ douse dhe chicken in petrol and set it on fire: Dhe Baron is a sadist and laughs at it every time, giving me an opportunity to push him out without resistance or dhe risk of disabling my magic.”

“Yikes…” The shrike looked at the chicken moving around and grimaced at the thought. Even still, if this option would mean their partner would be safer, Wildcard knew they’d probably light up a whole farm for his sake. Steeling their resolve, they nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll light it up when you’re done dealing with that spirit then.”

The taller bird gave his partner a more confident smile and handed them the matchbook from his pouch. “I have absolute confidence in you, chéries. If it comes down to it, protect yourself first, but I believe in your strength and resourcefulness to find dhe right solution.”

A faint blush came across their cheeks hearing that, hiding their face behind the chicken crate. “J-Just go and do what you gotta do…” They stammered out, still not used to praise like that from people, let alone someone they had complicated feelings towards.

Bokor chuckled quietly, finding it adorable how easily his partner became flustered with just a few genuine and kind words. While he’d normally be happy to spend plenty of time giving the shrike the praise they deserved, they had an important job to do if they wanted any semblance of peace while they slept. For now, he’d have to focus on preparing his special cigars and mixing a dark powder into his usual flask of rum. “Make sure you keep dhose matches away from me when dhis is open, petites, otherwise we’ll be joining dhe spirits haunting dhis place.”

“That would be an embarrassing end. We’d probably make the FOWL records for ‘most idiotic death of an agent’.” Wildcard gave a small laugh, shifting themself away as a precaution. “And that’s really saying something.”

“Hopefully dhey’d leave it at ‘burned t’ death’ instead of ‘one of dhem was an idiot and left an open bottle of rum an’ gunpowder near an open flame’.” Bokor snickered quietly at the thought of their less than flattering obituary, idly shaking his flask to mix its contents properly.

“Is that what you have there? Geez- I’ve drunk some pretty awful things in my day but I don’t think gunpowder ever made it in the cocktails I used to make.” They stuck their tongue out at the idea of the ashy substance on it. “I don’t envy you there.”

With a quiet laugh, Bokor shrugged and pocketed his flask for the time being. “Dhe Baron has peculiar tastes. Besides, I’ve had t’ put much worse in my mouth for rituals- at least I actually like rum.”

"You go through so much." Wildcard sighed in empathy. "I admit, I admire your dedication to your craft."

“It is an important part of who I am.” Red eyes brightened as they always did when the hawk talked about his practices. “It gives me a strength and comfort dhat I wouldn’t trade for anything in dhe world.” Catching himself before he could ramble like before, Bokor quickly cleared his throat. “A-Anyway, we should get started. Let me know if you need any help with dhat crate, petites.”

They smiled at the slight embarrassment he had, recognizing that twinkle in his eye from their previous discussions of his culture and customs. His passion appealed to them greatly, finding themself drawn to him all the more.

“I should be alright.” Wildcard remarked, hopping down off of the counter with the bird. “You worry about yourself, Henri.”

“I will.” Bokor opened the door for them, leaning down to place a kiss on their head as they passed by. “But I’ll still worry about you, mes chéries.”

That familiar blush sprung up on their face again from the simple gesture. Wildcard tried to push down their fluffed up feathers with one hand, muttering to themself about nothing in particular as they tried to calm down a bit more.

Seeing his partner so flustered eased Bokor’s nerves significantly, giving him the peace of mind he needed to go through with what he was about to do. Dealing with the Baron was never easy or pleasant, but, since he was the one with more power and practice dealing with dangerous spirits, the hawk knew the responsibility fell on his shoulders to take out the major threats. To keep his partner safe, he’d deal with the devil himself.

As the paranormal pair reached their destination, they could still feel the specter’s strong aura even before they entered the room. “At least my seals are holding it in dhere..” Bokor whispered, though he wasn’t sure how long they’d keep the ghost contained.

“Just wish it’d be dealt with on its own. Ugh, so rude, making us destroy it ourselves.” They playfully rolled their eyes, setting the crate down and leaning against the hallway wall. “Put on a good show for me, okay?” Wildcard winked at him, trying to calm him down however they could.

Their attempts were recognized and greatly appreciated, bringing a smile to the larger bird’s beak. “Don’t I always, petites?” Feeling more confident in what he had to do, Bokor pulled out his flask and took a swig of his explosive cocktail. The taste made him grimace, but he kept it down and began chanting quietly.

Soon, Wildcard could feel that familiar sinister aura and see wisps of red smoke forming around Bokor’s body- it seemed the Baron was willing to take the bait.

The shrike shuddered, instinctively stepping back to let it happen. The practice itself didn’t bother them, not as much as the Baron himself did. Between that and the overwhelmingly ancient and powerful spirit in the room next to them, Wildcard could practically feel their head spin and heart race from underlying panic.

The red smoke spread and wrapped itself around Bokor’s body as he continued to chant, though he showed no reaction to it other than a subtle twitch of his fingers when he retrieved one of his cigars. As he brought the special cigar to his beak, the Baron’s wispy form followed the movement like a snake slithering up his arm until it touched the end- igniting it with an unnaturally vibrant red flame. Closing his eyes and finishing his chant, Bokor took a drag from the now lit cigar and inhaled, breathing in the red smoke that used the tool as a tunnel right into the hawk’s body.

Bokor was silent for a brief moment once the last of the smoke had entered his mouth. Then, as if he’d been shocked, his limbs began to jerk and pop with stiff, rigid movements. He was quickly forced to his knees as the movements became more exaggerated, the sound of joints and bones popping breaking the deathly silence around them like a grotesque melody.

Thankfully, it only lasted for another minute or two before his body went limp and quiet- even his breathing seemed to stop and it was hard to sense any traces of life from the normally boisterous bird.

Wildcard watched the display with a quiet murmur of horror. It looked painful. Even though they knew they had their objectives, and that it was most likely a death wish, they took careful steps closer and put a hand on his back. “H-Hey…”

The moment the shrike touched the unmoving fowl’s back, they felt a surge of power and a presence that could only be described as deadly. The hawk suddenly slammed his hands against the ground and rose to his feet, his body moving like a marionette with its strings being pulled one at a time.

With each jerky movement, the color of his feathers changed from brown and white to pure black. By the time he was completely upright again, he looked more like a common black hawk than a red-tailed hawk. His already luminous red eyes opened again and had nearly tripled their usual brightness to the point of giving off a visible trail of light. One hand raised itself up and, with a snap of his fingers, white markings spread across his darkened body- joining together in a way that resembled a skeleton.

Once the markings spread to his head and formed their skeletal imprint across his face, “Bokor” smirked and gave a low, rumbling laugh. “It’s good to be back.” There were remnants of his usual voice audible as he spoke, but it was mixed with something dark and clearly inhuman that gave the shrike a sense of imminent danger.

With a sound of surprise, Wildcard stumbled backwards, tripping on the crate on the floor and falling down with a louder noise. They looked at the presence before them, taking in the sight of him before pointing towards the room the spirit was in. “That thing- t-that’s what you’re here for, alright? D-Deal with that, and make it quick, B-Baron…”

“Bokor”- or the Baron, technically- turned his glowing red eyes in the small shrike’s direction. When he saw them, a dark grin spread across his face. “Oh…I’ll be dealing with YOU shortly, little one~” The laugh he gave was quiet yet terrifying, like something one would hear ringing in their ears as they drew their last breath.

"I-I’m- I'm not-!" They took a sharp breath before pushing themself up off of the floor and running straight into the spirit infested room. "I'm not your target!" Wildcard yelled out, using their puppeteering abilities to try and pull the specter as a shield of sorts to put between them and the Baron.

The spirit let out a surprised and angry shriek, turning its head this way and that as it tried in vain to pinpoint what had grabbed it. When it heard the Baron’s twisted laughter, it turned its rage on him and attempted to blast the possessed man with a wave of dark energy.

With a smirk and a flick of his wrist, the Baron dissipated the energy as easily as snuffing out a small flame. “Not bad..” The powerful deity ignored and dissolved every blast sent its way while walking closer to the ensnared specter. “You will make a FINE addition to my collection~”

Once he was close enough, he placed a hand directly on the now scared spirit’s throat and managed to grab it as if it were tangible. The poor poltergeist could do nothing but flail and screech uselessly in fear, unable to escape the superior spirit’s strong grasp. When the Baron exhaled a wave of red smoke directly onto it, the specter gave one last agonized wail and its form dissolved into the smoke- gone without a trace in mere seconds.

Wildcard felt bile at the back of their throat. Having a spirit they were controlling be destroyed so brutally seemed to affect them in turn. They had to slump over on the floor to hold their head, fighting off the urge to hurl and focus on both Bokor’s and their own safety at this point.

Flicking his fingers, the Baron directed the smoke into Bokor’s pouch- likely channeling the ghost directly into the bottle housing his other captive spirits. Once the last wisps were sucked away, the possessed fowl turned his gaze towards the shrike on the floor. “Now…I believe it’s time we had a proper introduction, little puppeteer~”

Their head jerked up at that, fear regrettably in their eyes as they tried to run out of the room. They didn’t want the Baron to overstay his welcome any longer than necessary. Especially with how uneasy and panicked he made them.

“Hmh, how cute…you REALLY think you can escape?” Smirking like the fiend he was, the Baron didn’t run after the small bird so much as glide on wisps of red smoke. He was fast and silent, closing the gap between the two rapidly and attempting to grab the shrike by their neck.

With a sound of alarm, Wildcard tried to duck out of the way of the approaching hand, saving their neck. Unfortunately, it only allowed the Baron to grab at the back of their collar instead, keeping them in place and causing them to choke on their own clothing. “Gah-! H-H-Henri…!” They weakly pleaded.

“Sorry, little one, but Henri can’t talk right now.” The Baron gave a cruel laugh, easily lifting the struggling shrike up by their collar and turning them around to look at their possessed partner’s face. “Such a shame…he’s SO fond of you..tell me-” His free hand went to their throat, not applying any pressure…yet. “How BROKEN do you think he’d be if I snapped your neck?”

They couldn’t help but cry. Wildcard knew they were rather emotional, but those emotions just fueled them more. The thought of their own death didn’t seem to affect them half as much as the idea of Bokor having to come back knowing he was their murderer. That made them look at the Baron with anger behind their tears. “You can’t break him…he’s stronger than you.”

“What an interesting theory.” Giving his captive a cruel, sadistic grin, the Baron began to gradually tighten his grip. “Let’s test it, shall we?”

“Ngh-!” They coughed, feeling their airflow restricting and instinctively grabbing at the man’s arm to stop him. “H-Henri…I- HACK! I-I-...!” Wildcard tried to weakly say.

The possessed bird of prey just continued to grin like the devil itself, slowly adding more pressure. “What’s wrong, little one? Where did all of your confidence go? Well? Speak up!” He gave a cruel, sadistic laugh- knowing full well what he was doing to them and why they had trouble answering.

“I-I’m…! I’m sorry-!” Managing to say their apology, even as their face was starting to turn a shade of blue, Wildcard pulled one hand back to reach into their vest, pulling out one of the pointed leaves they were given by their partner in advance and slamming it against the Baron’s forehead.

That finally got a negative reaction out of the Baron, his previous grin turning into an affronted scowl. “Oh, you little-” Whatever insult he had prepared for them dissolved along with the magic binding him to his host.

The leaf glowed white the moment it made contact with Bokor’s forehead. The glow spread outward from its edges and onto the hawk’s body. Everywhere the light touched seemed to burn away the dark magic binding the Baron to Bokor’s body, returning his feathers and eyes to their normal colors. Within a few seconds, his appearance was back to normal and a rush of red smoke was forced out of his open mouth.

As the last of the dark magic drained away, Bokor’s strength gave out and he collapsed to the ground- thankfully letting his partner go along the way.

Wildcard felt like the wind got knocked out of them when they fell to the floor, though they doubted they did considering how little air they had prior. They coughed as they tried to breathe properly again, rubbing at the sore spot around their neck and blinking away the tears still in their eyes. "T-Told you he was stronger…" The shrike said to themself before moving over to check on Bokor’s condition.

While he was unmoving and unresponsive, he was at least breathing and his heart was still beating. The leaf’s glow eventually faded and fell from his head, leading to a weak gasp and hacking cough from Bokor. “Pe..tites…?” His voice was raspy and gaze unfocused, but his now normal, non-glowing red eyes did their best to locate his partner.

"Here…I'm here." They confirmed, taking Bokor’s head to rest on their lap rather than the floor as their fingers brushed his cheek feathers. "I've got you…"

Feeling his partner’s touch and hearing their voice did wonders for Bokor’s mind, allowing him to close his eyes and relax. “You’re….You’re..okay…?”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Wildcard tried to give a laugh, though with the condition of their throat, the sound wasn’t as sweet as it could’ve been. They coughed to try and clear it before refocusing on him. “The spirit’s been dealt with, that’s what matters most. We’re safe now, you can relax...”

“I’m glad..” One red eye cracked open to look at the shrike. “I…was worried you’d get hurt..dhe Baron..he..he looks for any opportunity to break my will..and..take my soul…”

“He certainly tried…but I knew he wouldn’t be able to. I knew you were stronger than him in the long run.” They gave him a soft smile. “‘Sides…if it’s for your sake, I can put up with anything. Just…don’t go doing anything like that unless you have to, okay? It wasn’t great to watch that happen to you.”

A guilty frown replaced the hawk’s previous tired but calm expression. “….I’m..sorry you had to see me like dhat, chéries..I don’t like using dhat power unless it’s an emergency…”

Wildcard nodded slightly, stroking his cheek again for comfort. “I can tell. And for what it’s worth, it did work at least…the worst of this mission is over, so we can take the rest of it easily.” They glanced around, not seeing any other spirits that invaded their temporary bedroom. “You think you can manage enough strength to make it to the couch? I’ll hold you- I think we’re both due for some sleep after all that.”

“Agreed.” Bokor nodded and, with a great amount of effort and support from his partner, managed to get to his feet (albeit very unsteadily). His movements were sluggish and his limbs felt like they were full of lead- an unfortunate and dreaded result of having his magic drained so forcefully. Past experiences taught him that he’d be stuck like this for at least ten hours, leaving him effectively useless against any other spirits that showed up.

With any luck, though, Wildcard would be right about the rest of the ghosts being easy to dispatch. If nothing else, the smaller bird had certainly proved themselves capable of dealing with large-scale threats like the Baron, so Bokor’s faith in his partner’s strength, skill, loyalty, and resourcefulness had only increased. For once, he didn’t mind feeling powerless around someone else.

They guided him over to the break room couch, letting him down with the pillows and pulling a blanket over him as an added measure of comfort. Wildcard yawned, all too aware that their sudden wake up and general relief of stress made their energy levels crash hard. While they could’ve curled themself in the large sleeping bag nearby, they felt they couldn’t be bothered or feel comfortable just leaving their partner alone after everything, so despite there being practically no room for them on the couch, the small shrike lay practically on top of him, head using his chest as a pillow as they settled.

Bokor settled down for some much deserved sleep, perfectly fine with his partner lying on top of him. Between the small amount of warmth they provided and the comfort he felt in their presence, he honestly would’ve been disappointed if they hadn’t tried to be near him after that ordeal. Besides, they were so light that it wasn’t much different for him than having a second blanket on top.

As he began to drift off to sleep, one of the hawk’s arms wrapped around the shrike’s torso- for his own comfort (he didn’t like his arm dangling over the side of the couch) as well as theirs.

Even as they felt themself drift off into sleep with ease, Wildcard felt the corner of their beak turn up in a smile. They could get used to this sort of thing.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Despite the chills and stress these two had to go through, it had a wholesome ending. It’s a nice way to end things before their next bit of drama >:3

#darkwing duck #dwd #fowl agent Bokor Baron #wildcard #bokard #thefriendlyfour #oc #not my oc #and #my OC #la vie en rose #ghost and spirits #ghosts #spirits #magic #possession

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two-gays-in-a-trenchcoat · 2 years

Text

Obey Me! Brothers as Hozier songs

songs that would describe your relationship with the seven brothers

because im a gay little nerd

Lucifer: Take Me to Church

you cant tell me you didn’t see this one coming. This song talks about a love that the church disapproves of, that to them is shrouded in sin. It’s deep with an intense rhythm, and filled with yearning.

“The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you”

“I’ll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife”

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin”

Mammon: Jackie and Wilson

god I love this song. The POV is from someone who had a one-night stand and promptly fell in love with them, going as far as to plan out their entire future together. Mammon falls for you hard and fast, and he’s definitely picked out names for your future children.

“She’s gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair”

“With my mid-youth crisis all said and done, I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young”

“Happy to lie back and watch it burn and rust; we tried the world, good God, it wasn’t for us”

Leviathan: Like Real People Do

a cute little love song for the cute little snake boy!!! But seriously, it’s canon that Levi feels like less than a person, isolated and locked away. And yet, here you come; finding him hiding in his room and loving him for who he is.

“I will not ask you why you were creeping. In some sad way, I already know.”

“I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you”

“Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do”

Satan: Shrike

Y’all know I had to pick the most romantic song for the most romantic boy. This song starts off by saying he couldn’t tell you he loved you earlier, but is ready to do so now. It also has a lot of lines about him giving his entire being to you, as you’ve made him a better person.

“I couldn’t utter my love when it counted. Ah, but I’m singin’ like a bird about it now”

“I had no idea on what ground I was founded...then when I met you, my virtues uncounted, all of that goodness is gone with you now”

“I was houses by your warmth, thus transformed”

Asmodeus: Would That I

This song is about leaving your past lovers/heartbreaks behind and focusing on your current love. I think that fits perfect for Asmo and you; he’s never really been in love before, but he’s not afraid of being tied down to you. He’s ready to leave his escapades in the past and give himself wholly to you.

“With the war of the fire, my heart moves to its feet....feel it soft and pure as snow, fell in love with the fire long ago”

“I was fixed on your hand of gold, lay in waste of of my lovin’ long ago”

“Oh, you’re good to me, baby”

Beelzebub: Work Song

This song is so wholesome, so domestic, so genuine, so Beelzebub. It’s all about love and adoration, how he doesn’t need anything but his lover, how he’s devoted to them forever. Also the line “I’m so full of love, I could barely eat” is literally JUST HIM.

“My baby’s sweet as can be; she gives me toothaches just from kissin’ me”

“I swear I thought I dreamed her; she never asked me once about the wrong I did”

“When I was kissing on my baby...heaven and hell were words to me”

Belphegor: From Eden

God. This man. This song. This was made for Belphegor; it’s about atonement and forgiveness from sin, about being in awe of the one you love... you should look this up just to read the lyrics, I’m resisting the urge to copy & paste all of it down and go line-by-line explaining how this song is HIM.

“There’s something lonesome about you, something so wholesome about you. Get closer to me”

“Innocence died screaming. Honey, ask me, I should know.” dont @ me for this line it’s TRUE

“I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door”

might fuck around and do a lumineers + twst version

#osapost #obey me au #obey me #om swd #x you #x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #headcanons #om #reader insert #fluff #cute #imagines #obey me scenarios

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: First impressions can be wrong.

Chapter 1

Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.

For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.

Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.

But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.

Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-

To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.

“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”

“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”

“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”

You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.

“Y/N!”

“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”

“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”

“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.

“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”

“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.

“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”

Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”

“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”

“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.

“Keith?”

Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.

Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.

“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”

“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.

“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”

“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”

“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”

Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”

“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”

“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”

“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”

“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.

“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”

“Exactly!”

“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”

Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.

“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.

“Your alias is Whistler this time?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”

“Mm hm.”

“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”

You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.

“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.

“You’re both fine with this then?”

“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”

She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”

Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”

“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Look at you, making jokes.”

“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”

“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”

“You need a spotter?”

“Sure thing.”

“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”

“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”

“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”

“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”

“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.

“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”

“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.

“Duh.”

“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”

You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.

“I missed you, asshole.”

“Missed you too, trouble.”

***

Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.

“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.

“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.

“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.

“Since they put you in charge of a team.”

“Don’t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.

Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.

“ETA of the target?”

“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.

“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Later.”

“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”

“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.

“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.

“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”

You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.

Professional.

You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.

Damn it.

This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.

Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.

And he would be none the wiser.

You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.

“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”

He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”

Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”

“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”

“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.

“What?”

You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.

“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”

“You know who I am.”

“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”

“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”

“Why would I lie about my target?”

“So that I would let you shoot him.”

“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds.

“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.

“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.

It was time to get back to work.

You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.

“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.

“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road.

“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.

“He didn’t take me hostage.”

“Hm?”

“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”

“So?”

“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”

“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.

“I guess.”

“Would it be so bad?”

“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”

“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.

“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”

A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.

“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“

“I won’t hesitate.”

“Y/N.”

“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”

Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”

You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.

“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”

Chapter 3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 3 years

Text

I’m back on my bullshit and we have GOT TO TALK about 13x08 The Scorpion and the Frog; which serves as a good example of why you should not ONLY watch spn episodes with Cas (partially because of that scene I shamefully blogged about earlier - no I will not link that cursed post here). The episode title comes from a fable in which the villain is the scorpion. Interpretations of this fable note its uniqueness lies in the concept that “the scorpion is irrationally self destructive and fully aware of it.”

To quote the scorpion, buddies - “it’s in my nature.”

Anyway, this episode is subtextually predicated on exploring Dean Winchester’s nature and specifically - his bisexuality, and I’m not only saying that because it opens with Dean in his Bi Colors Plaid (that also he wore on his burger date with Cas).

Let’s get started, after the cut!

Season 13 on its face gives me absolute whiplash because it starts widow arc-reunion-TOMBSTONE and then Jack yeets himself off to Chuck knows where so Cas can go out Looking For Him Because Otherwise He Will Definitely Kiss Dean there is no other option for the writers at this point. Sigh. Here, have another shot of Dean anxiously cleaning his gun as he always does when Cas has Gone Off For Reasons -

Anyway, this feels like a filler episode at first, but as always they bury the ENTIRE damn world in it and I am here with my dossier to Unearth It.

Lets start with Bart (demon of terrible nicknames and microagressions) meeting the brothers at Smile Diner to talk about some spell or whatever.

(I am not thinking about the Cherry Pie meta I AM NOT)

THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY to start with these lines immediately introducing the theme of duality, a thread throughout this episode.

BARTHAMUS

Everything. I've been following your careers a long time. You're a real pain in the pitchfork. And the halo. Natural disrupters. We have that in common, you and I. DEAN

Mm. Yeah, we're twinsies.

***MORE DUALITY! But as we know, Dean does not like Bart because He Is A Freakin’ Demon

DEAN

Well, see, here's the thing. When a demon tells us to jump, we don't ask how high. We just ice their ass.

UMMM excuse me Barting Bacting Boices? What is that sexual gaze?

Then we find out that Bart has 1/2 of the spell. They need the other 1/2. Oh, a spell with two parts, you say? [ I am going to scream :) ]

***Also, Dean eats the pie Bart ordered. I cannot begin to explain to you the state of unwellness that I am in regarding how important this is. DEAN NEVER GETS TO EAT THE PIE, remember? But in This Filler Episode, Dean eats the pie. While Sam looks at him with a very quizzical expression. Pie -> what Dean wants but never actually gets -> Dean actively eating this pie. Dean is coming to terms that maybe he can have what he wants.

***I am reminding you again that this is post widower-arc, post-reunion, and especially post-Tombstone. Anyway-

Now we get to Smash and Grab. Not literally even though I want to Commit Such Conduct at this point. We are introduced to two one off characters named

Smash (human/female presenting) - can crack any safe built by man

and Grab (demon/male presenting)- expert in bypassing supernatural security.

Reaching or no, you can’t disagree that when spn introduces one off characters - it is almost always a Narrative Parallel or Mirror.

So we have a human and a demon (and Dean Winchester, a human who has been a demon)

who are experts in cracking open/bypassing something that has been secured and guarded (breaking down walls, if you will).

They also use fake names identifying them as Tools to be Used ( Dean Winchester, the Michael Sword/daddys blunt little instrument)

BONUS:

Dean himself is literally used as a tool in this episode.

So yeah. Smash and Grab are physical representations of Dean’s duality. Human/Demon. Femininity/Masculinity. Dare we say something else, too?

Anyway, Dean is paired with Smash and Grab; Sam is off to idk negotiate weird artifact purchases lawboy style with Luther Shrike, a man who cannot die so long as he never leaves his house (I cannot even begin to unpack this shit; please just sit there and think about it. I’m not even going there here. I CANNOT DISCUSS Luther Shrike RN).

Speaking of things I cannot discuss without halgdhsag;lsa - Smash has very Specific boots (a look overall, really).

DEAN

Hey, Winona. The '90s called. They'd like their shoes back. SMASH

Shh.

***That’s right girl - do not take his shit; he actually LOVES them and is therefore Overcompensating for it with this little jab.

***Dean’s pop culture references and particular attention to the details here Should Not Be Overlooked. 90s! Winona! Ryder!

ANYWAY, then Dean and Smash bond over a caffeinated beverage -

[While Dean is doing a spell, Smash opens a can of drink, takes a mouthful and burps loudly. ] SMASH

Ahh. DEAN

You're weird.

***This scene makes me literally insane. (even aside from Dean living on something named NERVE DAMAGE as a KID. They could have called it anything. You’re saying this wasn’t a Choice)

She chugs a swallow of the drink and burps. Something stereotypically associated with masculinity. Not feminine. Dean’s reaction is that she is “weird” - because she is not acting in a way stereotypically, J*hn Winchester brain-rot patriarchy bullshit-tily associated with Being Female. But also, says the stupid show, they like the same soda. They are The Same. She shares the soda with Dean. HIS FACE WHEN SHE DOES -

Other similarities are addressed throughout the episode (they are working for demons because they have no choice; they don’t discuss feelings/emotions, they both sold their soul, they both This Thing -

DEAN

You know, we could help you. SMASH

No, you can't. I gotta take care of me.

etc. etc.) Smash is absolutely dean-coded.

****Also it’s textually established that Smash thinks Dean is attractive -

GRAB

[looking at Smash] Oh. You said he was just a pretty face. SMASH

Shh.

***But Grab flirts with him too.

DEAN

I will kill you. GRAB

I bet you say that to all the girls.

***sorry, Grab - you won’t get far with Dean, but only because as he mentioned in the beginning of this episode -

Drowley rights.

Now Dean has to put his hand in the mouth of this stone lion thing and all of a sudden he is acting....very-not-like-Dean.

[Dean looks again and takes a deep breath.] DEAN

I… how about this? What if I cut myself, put it on, like, a little piece of paper? We'll just wad it up and throw it in the mouth, okay? Okay.

***Dean Winchester, who has been to Literal HELL, who has been torn apart by hellhounds, who has battled the devil and angels and God’s sister - all at the expense of his own life is now - afraid of spiders. Well, technically he has always been afraid of spiders, but why isn’t ‘he being performative about it At This Time??

***Come to think of it, this sends me right back to how Jackles was playing Dean in 12x11 Regarding Dean THE episode dissecting Dean’s performative masculinity [one day I will clean up and post that analysis sitting in my drafts like a sad hamster]. That makes sense actually, because -> -> ->

that episode and this one are both written by Meredith Glynn. Girl get in I want to torture you affectionately with a barrage of questions.

So here we have Dean and he’s not performing for Reasons, and he’s scared he’s genuinely scared of putting his hand in this stone lion-gargoyle-pig-creature’s mouth and then -

Smash gives him a push.

She gives him a push. I cannot stop thinking about how she gives him a push. A push to go do this thing that he is scared of; his fear being something he was hiding under his performative masculinity. Smash - dean coded dean mirror who does not perform femininity and is ‘weird’ - she gives him a p u s h.

***linking here for the jackting joices that follow.

Now, let’s circle back to Smash’s story; why she is working for Bart in the first place -

SMASH

You think I wanna be here? Like I have a choice? SAM

You made a deal. SMASH

Wow! You think? SAM

You sold your soul. SMASH

And if I could take it back, I would.

there is no reason for this picture here other than I needed you to see the jackting again

***How does the story end for Smash?

DEAN

Take care of you. [Dean glances down at the box, and then at Smash. She sees that Dean has put a lighter on top of the bones.] BARTHAMUS

Alice, chop chop!

[Bart indicates she should get his bones]. SMASH

Yeah. [She grabs the lighter and sets Bart's bones alight. Bart screams as he bursts into flames. ]

***She accepts help and breaks free from the narrative, literally burning it down. The female presenting but not female-performing “weird” ooc representing a side of Dean breaks FREE because she makes a choice. The lighter Dean drops? It’s a push. And she goes with it.

Alice reclaims her story.

(Also, Grab gets ganked. The male presenting ooc; the performative masculinity side; the demon; the darkness; the not-humanity - gets ganked).

Guess what Dean says to Alice when they say goodbye?

DEAN

Hey, Alice. Stay weird.

[I know the peace sign is probably just a Charlie throwback but I’d still like to say duality. Two. ]

Dean’s not just talking to Alice. He’s talking to himself; because the walls have been breached and for once Dean isn’t as scared of being different. Maybe, just maybe, he’s going along with the push. That’s exactly how the episode ends - with Dean feeling a little more hopeful, a little more at peace; a little more Considering he is capable of not only loving Cas but also not hating himself for it.

[until the knowledge that Mary is still alive and the guilt of allowing himself ANY happy thoughts instead of looking for her miserably rears its ugly head in 13x09 and round and round we go but for NOW at least -> ]

DEAN

I'll drink to that.

(oh look Dean is just wearing his henley. It’s almost as if a layer has been peeled back).

tagging @im-shaking-like-milk and @deanwasalwaysbi for letting me ramble on to them while writing this; and @lilac-void because you are always so kind about my stuff :)

#my spn meta #spn analysis #spn 13x08 #bi!dean #destiel #deancas #hellerism #spn #supernatural #spn fandom #spn family #spn meta

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 3 years

Note

Wait... who is Shrike again? I like... literally just reread the entire series but.. brain broke.

Patton! its what Remus calls him - a shrike is a carnivorous and predatory songbird

#love and other fairytales ask #laoft patton #laoft remus #ocotopushugs #ask

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queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long Burning Torch ch 2

Oh, look, there more! :D Second chapter for my Ryn/Red 20s AU brought you by @shepherds-of-haven ‘s summer event

------

True to his word, Red called just a couple days later--with supremely perfect timing, too; Xaeryn had just returned from following a lead. She was in the process of unpinning her hat when the telephone rang and she ll but dove across the room, hatpin in hand, to answer it.

“Shrike Investigations,” she said with that borderline-cheerful professionalism people expected from anyone running a business.

“Xaeryn?” He sounded curious verging on concerned. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, hittin’ on all eight,” she assured him with a breathless laugh. “I just got back from chasing down a lead.” She left off how literal that was this time as she glared at the mud on her shoes. “He was... more help than he meant to be, I think. I’m just grateful it didn’t turn into another dead-end.”

Red laughed. “Glad to hear it.” The line crackled a bit in the moment’s silence before he continued, “I had a chance to do some research, turned up a few interesting things.”

Generally interesting, or Red-interesting? Xaeryn wondered with a fond smile, remembering his fascination with even the minutiae of everything he read. “Like what?”

“At least some of what happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, and it’s a bit of a mess.” He laughed again, sheepishly this time, and Xaeryn pictured him running a hand through his hair. “It’s better explained in person. Should I come to you--”

“I’ll come there,” Xaeryn offered. “You’re doing me a favor, it’s the least I can do. And besides” --she grinned, even knowing he couldn’t see her-- “it’s a long drive and I wouldn’t want you to forget any of your notes.”

There was a long-suffering sigh, punctuated by a chuckle that made the line pop. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“No more than you let me live down the apple tree,” she retorted sweetly. “Does it work for me to come today? The guild’s getting antsy with the exhibit date drawing closer, but if you’re busy...”

“I have a lecture in... just under an hour.” Red paused, likely doing the same travel time vs lecture time calculations she was. “If you left soon, you’d probably get here just as I’m finishing, we could talk after?”

“Sounds good to me,” Xaeryn said scraping mud off her shoe against the chair leg. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, then.”

“Mm, see you then.”

She took a moment examining her shoes after they hung up and decided it would be best to change them before she left. Wouldn’t want to be tracking mud through Solhadur’s halls.

---

She couldn’t entirely bite back a laugh when she arrived and found Red behind his desk, the pencil woven between his fingers tapping against one of the three books open across the desk’s surface. “Well, I just lost a five lyss wager.”

“Huh?” His hair fell in his eyes when he looked up. “Over what?”

Xaeryn smiled as she leaned against the edge of the desk. “I was certain you would get carried away with jawing about whatever your lecture was on and I would be here first. Fortunately it was a wager with myself” --she leaned over to peek at what he was reading--”so there’s no real loss.”

Red laughed and nudged one of the books toward her. “Normally you would have won. I thought of something I wanted to double-check before you got here, so I made sure to end on time. The students thank you for that, by the way.”

She snickered and skimmed through the presented history text. “They’re most welcome. What did you learn?”

Red pushed out of his chair and circled the desk to give them the same angle on the book she held. “There’s a decade or so immediately after its loss that’s unaccounted for, but there are records from travelers who mention encountering a warlord deep in Jalis territory with a pendent that sounds an awful lot like Solimer’s torch. Here.” He leaned over to flip a few pages back from where she was and pointed at a sketched illustration.

While rudimentary in nature, it did bear a striking resemblance to the photographs Mr. Syndran had given her. Xaeryn hummed a quiet agreement, noting the sketched pendent seemed to be on an armband rather than loose as it was now, as she started reading the relevant text around the illustration.

“Lean on details,” she frowned, tracing a finger over the words as she read.

“That one is,” Red agreed. “They were more concerned with other things, barely mention the pendent in their description of the warlord. It’s just the only one with an illustration.” He tugged the book away from her, swapped it for one of the others. “Going off the description, I think this is the same piece. But you can draw your own conclusions.” He sat in one of the chairs and Xaeryn stayed perched on the edge of the desk, one foot swinging idly a few inches off the ground as she read.

From the sound of it--bronze coiled around a jet black stone, said to be its owner’s lucky talisman--she was inclined to agree with Red. The territory of this warlord, however, was rather far from the usual routes ascribed to the Solimer’s desert travels. How did it get there? she mused. Likely during the decade it had vanished, but she couldn’t even begin to guess the method. She’ was just finishing with the account when she caught Red smiling out of the corner of her eye.

She let the book dip to look at him instead. “What?”

Red’s eyes twinkled as he nodded at the hem of her mid-calf skirt. “That lead you mentioned chasing earlier wouldn’t have involved mud puddles, would it?”

Xaeryn followed his gaze and groaned at the mud staining the dusky rose fabric. “I wasn’t expecting him to run,” she muttered, flicking at the mud with one hand as she moved to the other chair.

“Your suspects usually just wait around, obligingly, for you to interrogate them, then?”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing tone and briefly debated whacking him with the book. “He wasn’t a suspect, he was a witness,” she retorted primly, setting the book back on his desk. “Potentially. Though with how cagey he was being, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was guilty of something.”

“A mystery for another day,” Red said with a grin.

“Precisely. As for today’s mystery, have you found anything more recent than this?” She tapped the book. “It’s still several hundred years ago.”

“Not much, and some of it’s contradictory; that’s part of why I said in person was better.” He ran one hand through his hair. “That territory is so deep in the Jalis desert, not many go there and come out again. Those who don’t live there frequently die visiting.”

“Charming place,” Xaeryn said dryly.

“Mmhm. It makes getting records difficult, to say the least. There’s a mention of this warlord’s territory being conquered by another, but no mention of what was taken as potential spoils, and the next thing I’ve found resembling Solimer’s torch is is when it was discovered in the grave of a different chieftain, name unknown--though there are theories--a hundred years ago and almost two hundred miles from where the nearest previous records indicated it being.”

“How’s a chieftain’s name unknown?” she frowned.

“He was buried with the honors afforded warlords and chieftains, but any record of his identity had worn off in the desert wind, if it was there in the first place,” Red explained.

“And these theories about who he was?”

“Numerous and with various levels of support,” he said wryly. “But if you want the longer version...?”

Xaeryn chuckled. “Always.”

They spent the next hour or so discussing the myriad guesses people had made as to this mystery chieftain’s name, as well as the other details Red had unearthed about the pendent, and various sources’ credibility. They only got caught up in one or two rabbit trails of good-natured debate over peer review and scholarly reputation or historical patterns of desert travel. (Which was pretty good for them.)

“There are a lot of gaps,” Red acknowledged, thumbing the pages of one book. “But I have a lot more I can read to help with filling them in.” He twirled one hand to gesture at the shelves that lined the room.

“You don’t have to-”

“Xaeryn, have you ever known me to be unhappy reading a book?” he asked with a warm smile.

“Well, no,” Xaeryn laughed. “But you’re so busy now, Headmaster.”

Red arched a brow but didn’t further protest her use of the title. “I always have time for you,” he said with a shrug, then cleared his throat and pushed to his feet even as her heart pounded and she sternly informed herself he hadn’t meant it like that. (She was grateful his circling the desk meant he missed the moment of broken composure that surely flashed across her face.) “And research is even more fun when it’s for a purpose. Bottom line for you so far...” He picked up his dropped pencil and started shuffling through everything on his desk in search of paper.

She grinned and held out her notepad. “Here.”

He flashed a sheepish smile as he took it. “Thank you.” He flipped to the first blank page and started writing as he talked. “Descendants of either that unknown chieftain or the one whose wife originally found the torch would have the strongest claims of ownership.”

“If I can find them,” Xaeryn said dryly. “And if one of them’s not already the owner on record who lent the pendent to the exhibit.” She bit her lower lip. “I think I need to talk to Mr. Syndran again.”

And depending on what he told her, her own research into genealogy might be called for.

“Probably your best next step.” Red finished writing and handed back her notepad, several pages scrawled with bullet-points summation of what he’d found. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Xaeryn smiled when she saw the notes were in their shorthand. “Nice touch.”

He smiled and raised one shoulder in a shrug. “It takes less space, and you did say this is a secret...”

“Very true.” She flipped the pad closed and tucked it back in her handbag. “I really do appreciate your help, this wasn’t a a small request, and you got me some answers in very short order.”

“I’m not done reading, Xaeryn,” Red said, voice rife with amusement. He waved at the surrounding shelves again. “Like I said, there’s a lot more to check.”

I always have time for you.

“As long as you don’t mind, I would love to hear anything else you learn,” Xaeryn said with a smile. Far be it from her to stand between Liefred Antiqua and a research project he was excited about. She’d sooner snatch an ice cream away from a child.

“I’ll call if I find anything else useful,” Red promised, already shifting toward one bookshelf.

She nodded, biting back a laugh and hoping he had a very loose definition of the word ‘useful’. “I’ll look forward to that, then.” Her neck and ears warmed and she hastily added, “more information is always helpful.” She stood, flicking at the stubborn mud on her skirt again. Next time she went interview-hunting, she was wearing trousers. “Though you have me off to an excellent start.” She headed for the door, paused with her hand on the knob. “Thank you for that, Liefred.”

“Anytime.” He leaned against the corner of his desk. “You can still call me Red, y’know, Xaeryn. Everyone does, so it’s hardly going to seem too familiar.”

True as that might be here at Solhadur, Haven was a different story. And she wouldn’t want to slip up. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Xaeryn said softly. “Until next time?”

“Mm-hm.” Something flickered in his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, then flashed her an easy smile. “I’ll look forward to it, then. I’m glad we reconnected.”

She smiled back as she twisted the knob. “Me, too.”

She didn’t have many friends, it was good to get one of the best ones back.

---

It was edging toward evening when Xaeryn made it back to her office. Which made it a bit of a surprise --fortuitous as it was-- to find Mr. Syndran waiting for her.

“Did we have a meeting I forgot about?” she asked apologetically as she unlocked the door. (They hadn’t, she was positive, but it was a diplomatic way of probing for why he was here.)

“We did not,” Mr. Syndran replied, arching a brow in a knowing look. “I had some other business in the area and decided to stop by in person to see how you are coming along, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn laughed and gestured toward the same chair he’d sat in on his first visit. “Then you have very good timing, instincts, or both, Mr. Syndran. I had some things I wanted to ask you; background information.”

His brow creased ever so slightly. “Should you not be far beyond mere background information? Have you not made progress?”

She sighed and sat in her chair behind the desk, pulling her notepad from her handbag and turning to a blank page. “Not of the ‘I’ve narrowed it down to two blocks, I just don’t know which house’ variety, no.” She tapped her pen against the desk. “But I have leads on suspects.”

Syndran gave a grunt that may have been displeasure. “And your questions for me?”

“Like I said; clarifying background information. When the Couriers were contracted to handle transport, how much were you told about the pieces?”

“Only the relevant details.” He brushed invisible lint off his sleeve. “Each one’s value, recorded owner, any special care instructions.”

Xaeryn nodded, pen poised over her pad. “I don’t suppose you recall the owner listed for the pendent?”

He paused to think a moment. “I’d have to have my secretary check to be completely certain, but I believe it was a Ms. Aescar. The name didn’t ring any bells for me.”

“And would I need to speak with the Hall of History and Culture if I wanted to find out how to contact her, or do you know?”

Syndran shook his head. “Whitestone Couriers were merely transporting the relics, Miss Shrike. Any communication with the owners was the concern of the museum curators. Why would you need to talk to her?”

“I might not,” Xaeryn said, scribbling the information down. “I just like to have all my chickens in the coop ahead of time, so there’s no scrambling if something winds up time-sensitive down the road.”

“Smart.” Syndran gave a nod of approval. “So long as you don’t spend so much time preparing for unlikely eventualities that you lose more promising leads.”

She back back a tart ‘I know how to do my job’ and nodded. “Of course.”

He paused a moment, lips pursed in thought. “I did have a wonder, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn cocked her head. “Oh?”

“Given the... likelihood this theft occurred somewhere between city customs and the museum and the utter lack of details my drivers have been able to provide about that stretch of the journey” --his expression soured-- “would it be possible for you to... revisit the scene with your abilities?” His brows arched meaningfully. “You are Argentis, are you not? The benefit of hindsight might allow you to pick up on something relevant that didn’t register in the moment for my people.”

She tapped her pen against her notepad. “I can give it a go, Mr. Syndran, but I’m more a Scryer than a Sage; my strongest talent is finding things in the present, not viewing the past. Though this is the recent past,” she mused. “Perhaps recent enough that with a focus from the caravan I’d have decent luck.”

“I’ll see what I can find for you.” Mr. Syndran pushed to his feet. “Anything in particular that will work best?”

“For viewing the past like this... something from the event is necessary, and the closer to central it is, the clearer a picture I’ll be able to get.” She leaned back in her chair. “Frankly, if you don’t mind my doing so, coming to the Couriers’ garage and using one of the trucks as my touchstone would work best.”

“Oh, that’s very doable,” he said with a nod. “As it’s getting late, what say we do it tomorrow?”

“Nine AM?” Xaeryn suggested.

“Acceptable.” He headed for the door. “I shall see you then, Miss Shrike.”

“See you then, Mr. Syndran.” Xaeryn waited until the door closed behind him to let out a slow breath. Scrying was easy enough, even if she didn’t always succeed, but peering into the past was usually a draining exercise for her. Mr. Syndran was correct, though; it was very likely the best way to glean new leads. Even if it meant she’d need a nap after.

She pushed to her feet and locked the door. One more glance over her notes before she called it a night. So it was fresh in her mind and she could mull it over.

She tried not to get too distracted by the difference between her small, crowded shorthand and Red’s larger, loose scrawl--he had a dreamer’s handwriting, which she’d teased him about when they were younger(he’d rolled his eyes but hadn’t denied it). The memory had her smiling all through dinner.

---

The weather was nice enough the next day Xaeryn opted to walk to the Whitestone Couriers’ garage, though she did take an umbrella in case the rain that hadn’t threatened the last few days decided to make an appearance. Mr. Syndran was waiting for her, looking all the more proper in these rough-shod surroundings.

“Right on time, Miss Shrike,” he said with a tight smile. “This way.” He led her at a brisk pace to a gleaming black truck, the canvas cover a near-immaculate tan. “This is the one that was carrying the crate with the pendent, among other things.”

“Right.” Xaeryn circled to the passenger side, letting her fingers trail over the cool metal until they rested on the door. “I can’t make any promises, but let’s see if we can find anything useful.”

She pressed her hand flat against the side of the truck and murmured the correct ritual, felt her magic rise to do as she bade.

The scene around her--Mr. Syndran, the garage, everything but the truck--faded into shadow. Her view shifted, as if she were riding shotgun in the truck or hanging out the window as it crept through Haven’s streets. Tings were flickery and dim, the colors bled out and faded as she looked around. I don’t know how long I can hold this. Xaeryn peered intently at what she could see of the surroundings, the other vehicles, the people, buildings, noting everything she could, no matter how mundane. A woman with a red hat, brim hiding most of her face. A young boy and his dog watching the caravan with interest. A man with vivid green eye and a small smile lounging against a wall, following the trucks’ progress from under his slouched cap. The cat that almost darted in front of the preceding truck before it spooked. The flapper with an armful of bracelets, glancing surreptitiously across the street-

The scene flickered sharply, her grasp on the ritual fading, the images slipping away--

And Xaeryn was back in the garage, leaning against the truck as her knees went to jelly. The few prior occasions she’d played the sage had left her feeling like she stood up too fast when they ended, and this was no exception.

“Are you alright, Miss Shrike?” Mr. Syndran gestured to a nearby worker who’d stopped to gawp and the man scuttled off.

“Just fine,” she said with a nod, turning to sit on the truck’s running board as she tugged out her notepad and rapidly scrawled out everything she’d seen. “Sage work can be taxing if it’s not your main talent, that’s all.”

He watched in silence as she scribbled down the vision’s contents, only speaking again when she finished. “Did you see anything of note?”

“Nothing too blatant, or it would have stood out even to the drivers,” Xaeryn said, leaning her head back against the truck. “But there were some passers-by that caught my attention...”

Mr. Syndran listened to her descriptions with utmost focus, but interrupted when she reached the green-eyes lounger. “Do you remember any other details about him?” he demanded, his hands twitching to a fractionally tighter grip on the head of his walking stick.

“Tall,” Xaeryn said slowly. The worker Syndran had sent away returned with a tumbler of water, which she accepted with a nod of thanks as she dug through the memory. “I think brown hair, but he was wearing a hat. Bright red vest, blue and green scarf ‘round his neck-”

“Thieves guild,” Syndran muttered. Despite the distaste on the words, a panther-like grin curved his lips. “I should have known.” The distaste shifted to satisfaction. “That would be your next lead, Miss Shrike.”

Xaeryn arched a brow. “Do tell.”

“Thieves guild has been a thorn in our side for years,” Syndran explained, “They aren’t even a true guild; more a loose association of ruffians and cutpurses who only call themselves such in another jape at legitimate businesses.” He sniffed. “They make their base in the warrened streets of Ashtown, but I believe I have worked out where their true headquarters are concealed. I can give you some direction, if you’re recovered enough to follow me to my office?”

She nodded, pushed to her feet. “Lead the way.”

It was good to have something tangible to pursue. Hopefully the weather would hold so she could follow it up now. Ashtown was no fun in the rain.

#queens fic #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #shepherds summer 2021 #shoh #20s au #tlbt

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Speaking of Boone, the other day I had a very weird crack!fic kinda idea that’s like The Hangover + superheroes + why is my brain like this. Basically, there’s a public figure in Vegas that’s being targeted for assassination and Dick’s the Titan available to handle protecting them. Boone of course is the assassin hired for the job.

Somehow this leads to them both waking up in bed together with wedding rings on and absolutely no idea what happened the night before. Cue mutual exclamations of “ugh, not YOU” followed by the obligatory fight scene but in their underwear (the trashed honeymoon suite gets charged to the Titans’ expense account later and there is much clearing of throats and “Dick, you wanna explain this” to be had). And then both go to do their jobs but discover the public figure that’s the reason they’re both there is now mysteriously missing. And Dick’s searching high and low for him in order to protect him and Boone’s searching high and low for him in order to kill him, and their searches keep crossing paths and getting them in each other’s way.

And somehow they end up working together to rescue him from an unknown third party so that Boone can kill him then and Dick can stop him from killing him, look, its not a perfect arrangement but its better than them tackling each other through seven story windows every other hotel on their search routes. They can at least agree that that’s definitely slowing both of them down. And they really do need to figure out who actually has the target if Dick’s gonna protect them and Boone’s gonna get paid, cuz apparently that only happens if HE kills the target, not just if the target ends up dead for other reasons. He already checked. Just to be sure, see.

Meanwhile, they still have absolutely no idea what happened the night before and are mostly convinced the other is somehow behind it.

Dick: This kinda stunt is right up your alley, Boone. I mean I’m not sure why or what it gains you exactly, but that’s exactly what makes it something you would do! Your mind is so incomprehensible and every breath you take irks me and I am mightily irked therefor clearly, you must be responsible.

Boone: Ahah! I always knew you wanted in my pants and now I have proof! Admit it, its the only possible explanation! Nothing else makes sense! Nuh-uh-uh, dooooon’t even try and throw me off course with your so-called “deductive reasoning” pfft, I know what’s really going on here. I figured it out, I win, you lose. Suck it, nerd.

Dick: How am I a nerd, exactly?

Boone: Umm, idk, you just are? That’s just what you call a teacher’s pet, which is, uh, obviously you? Boom. Nailed it.

Dick: What are you even talking about? If anyone’s a teacher’s pet here its you! You had your nose so far up Shrike’s ass.....

Boone: Was that before you killed him? Or was that after you killed him?

Dick: For the last. Fucking. Time. I. Did. Not. Kill. Him. He FELL. And wow you really did NOT think through how that just sounded.

Boone: LOL, yeah okay the incredibly skilled master assassin ‘tripped and fell’. Makes total sense. Why would I possibly doubt you. Oh I feel so foolish now.

Dick: Maybe that has to do with your outfit. Orange, seriously? With your skin tone? And I never said he tripped and fell, Two-Face shot him and then he fell. Kinda a key contributing factor there.

Boone: Hateful. You’re HATEFUL. And people in disco-themed leotards should not throw stones. Also, for the record, Two-Face couldn’t have shot him if YOU’D just shot Two-Face earlier that night like you were SUPPOSED to.

Dick: Oh I see so first I’m responsible for Shrike’s death because I killed him and now I’m to blame because I didn’t kill someone?

Boone: La la la la there you go trying to confuse me with logic again but I’m not listening! La la la la la!

The henchman they’d both been after pipes up then: Do you two need a room? Like damn, I thought you were only fake-married but clearly I was wrong.

Boone: Literally how dare you.

Dick: Wow. Just wow.

They both knock him out simultaneously and then wince. Ooops. He was their lead. Dammit. Now they have to wait for him to wake up.

Dick: Can you believe the nerve of that guy?

Boone: Where does he even get off getting uppity with us? He’s a total amateur! We had him down in like, two moves! I mean seriously, who even trained him?

Dick: Tell you one thing, he would have never made it in Vengeance Academy, that’s for damn sure.

Boone: Pfft. Loser would have washed out on day one. Even Dennis could have kicked his ass back when we were twelve. Hey you remember Dennis right?

Dick: Ohhhhh man, Dennis! Wow, haven’t thought about him in years. Hey whatever happened to him anyway, do you know?

Boone: I heard he ended up working for either Vandal Savage or Count Vertigo. It was one of those ‘ruling the world is my divine right and I like to smite my minions when they fail me or I just have low blood sugar’ types. Can’t remember which. He’s definitely dead though, that part I’m clear on.

Dick: Huh. Yeah, that sounds about right. He was not good.

Boone: He really wasn’t.

Both stop and stare at each other suspiciously, because what, now they’re AGREEING with each other? What fresh hell is this. Seriously. Who is refereeing this even and what does it take to get a flag on the play.

They do ultimately concede that there might, MIGHT be a slim, infinitesimal possibility this unknown third party has something to do with it as some kind of distraction or way to keep them occupied, but even if that turns out to be the case they’re still like 92.67% sure the other is still ultimately to blame for that somehow.

Look they’ve run the numbers and the math doesn’t lie.

#boone aka shrike

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scatterpatter · 3 years

Note

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

#LONG POST #LONG LONG POST #Corren #FUCK YOU DREWSKI <3

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