#terry is mean and snippy

[kaseyskat]

when sparrow turns on lark and is the only kiddad to actively help the teens. then y'all will see. y'all will SEE!!!

[shipaholic]

Yeah, I think I’m ready to call this: Crowley and Aziraphale start S2 having drifted apart and/or fought between S1 and now. That’s why there aren’t any promo clips of the two of them - it would give away that their relationship has cooled.

Evidence:

1. Aziraphale’s snippy “I can see that” in the trailer. It’s funny, but it’s also the bitchiest he’s ever sounded talking to Crowley.

2. Crowley saying “We can do it together” and Aziraphale's surprised response, as if the idea of doing something ‘together’ is out of left field.

3. Crowley seems to have been living in his car for a while - long enough for Shax to know about it. Aziraphale either doesn’t know, or is letting the situation continue even though he has the means to stop it.

4. Crowley is hanging out in St. James’s Park without Aziraphale, and with another demon. Since when has Crowley had other friends? Didn’t every demon in Hell show up to watch him get horribly dissolved in holy water? Why is he this desperate for company? It could just be business, but Shax knows that his current address is “the Bentley”. That’s personal information.

5. (Speculative) S2 is, we hope, going to be the middle season of three. Act 2 is where the problems and complications fall, between Act 1′s set-up and Act 3′s resolution. Also, Neil has said S2 is a bit less plot-heavy compared to S1 and S3, which makes it a good place to put all the interpersonal and romantic angst, without an apocalypse taking centre stage.

6. (Speculative) One of the few, only things we know about Terry and Neil’s planned sequel that never was, is that Crowley and Aziraphale end up sharing a home in the South Downs. It makes sense that the TV season designed to bridge the gap between Good Omens the novel, and what would have been its sequel, would feature a plotline about their living arrangements, and whether they should live together.

[sensei-venus]

I was going through your masterlist and I’d love to hear your NSFW headcanons for alpha!kreese or just some abo headcanons for terry in general <3 if you want/have time!!

(I love Kreese, point blank. Give me hot sexy mentally ill Kreese.) (unedited)

•Alpha!Kreese is the prime example of old generation alpha’s. He’s lean mean cunning and he’s up front about all of it. He wants to be the biggest alpha in the room at all times, he wants everyone to know it too. He musks and scents the whole room as soon as he steps in. He doesn’t want to hear any whining about it either.

•He only likes omega’s so too bad bates and other alpha’s. He loves the scent of omega’s, fruity,sweet,flower scents get him going. When he was younger he definitely popped a lot of boners at the scent of a sweet smelling omega. His natural instinct’s is to enjoy the scent of a little omega as long as possible, and get his dick wet too.

•Kreese loves having sex with omega’s, it’s literally his favorite thing besides drinking and doing karate. He’s definitely experienced and is happy to show off to any omega that is interested. He’s not picky about what omega he has sex with as long as they are attractive enough in his book. Pretty, small and smells nice. Also as long as they aren’t to snippy, Kreese hates snippy, rude and disrespectful omega’s. He’s the alpha in this thing, he’s the one that’s gets to be mean.

•Rough kisser and loves make out session’s with the omegas he ends up taking home. Most of the time he takes home omegas he meets at the bars he goes to a lot. Most of the time he’s drunk during these encounters. Very rarely is he sober when picking chicks up at the bar. He doesn’t dislike this, he’s still getting his dick wet in the end. Don’t knock it till you try it as they say, drunk sex is fun to him.

•He doesn’t do anything over the top with random omegas. He likes sloppy blowjobs and handjobs. Most of the time he’s going round after round of doggy style where he fucks them from the back, bending them over on a cheap hotel bed. He enjoys a round of missionary. Most of the time he honestly doesn’t care about looking at their faces, he looks at their ass or tits as they bounce on his cock. If he looks at their face, it’s because he wants to see them in tears with cum all over them. He also doesn’t knot any of them, it’s in his moral code to not knot any omega he’s not actually interested in long term.

(Following is kinda just my own thing, because I love Kreese so…..I pull this shit out my ass because I want him.)

•Kreese isn’t great at actually looking for a long term mate. He’s never actually tried and has no idea on how to go about it. He has little dating experience as well. He meets his omega by pure accident. He smelled her before he saw her and his inner alpha was begging to investigate the sweet scent that filled the room. She was a sweet little waiter at a restaurant he was trying out. She was quiet bite sweet, and it was feeding his inner alpha to watch her run around the restaurant. He chatted her up for a while and before long he was talking her into seeing him sometime after she got off work.

•He’s rough at first, gripping her hips as he thrusts into her wet pussy. He loves the wet slapping sounds of his hips and balls meeting get ass. He’s got her folded in half as he pounds into her. He wants to see her crying out for him.

•He sucks on every piece of flesh he can get too. He wants to mark her up as much as he can, so everyone knows she’s his. He wants every to know that she has a alpha waiting on her at home. That someone is willing to fight over the little omega. He sucks hickey into her neck and chest, all over her tits. He even sucks marks into her shoulders and arms. Their borderline violent looking like she got into a fight. Really it’s just a over dramatic and over excited alpha who wants to show off.

•Real alphas eat pussy, that’s something Kreese lives by. You would think he wouldn’t, but he does, and he’s good at it. Eating pussy is the easiest way to make a omega happy, at least from his experience. He knows how to use his mouth. He laps at her folds like a dying man, his nose bumps against their clit and nestles right against it as he tongue fucks their pussy. He wants her to make his chin drip. He wants her creaming on his face. If she hasn’t cum on his tongue at least twice that night, he’s not doing something right.

•Major breeding kink when he finds his omega. He wants to have a few pups at most. He will full on knot her over and over again everytime he pops a knot during sex. He doesn’t care if he’s not in a rut or if she’s in heat, he will knot her and creampie her poor pussy. He loves creampies, he loves to just stay in side of her after he cums, feeling her clench around him. The way his balls draw up with ever load of cum he pumps into her. Constantly tells her how sexy she’s going to look filled with his pups, how he can’t wait to see her all round and full. Really fantasies about coming home to a barefoot pregnant omega after a long day at the dojo.

[msfbgraves]

Daniel comes off as totally irresistible in your MobAU. I bet Terry was all “That little Italian Omega means nothing to me, I can get over this.” And then he fails to, spectacularly. Oops. Anyway, just how desperate was Terry to have his wedding night, lol? 

Desperate enough! In fact:

“You're being honeytrapped, you know that.” John crosses his arms, face set in a signature scowl.

He looks at him. “Do you have anything new to say?”

“It bears repeating.” He lifts his chin. “Terry, they're stalling. Only people who do that are weak. Do you want them to regroup first?”

“We can take 'em, John, but can we hold them?”

“The feck you take me for? Of course!”

He smiles. “Johnny. I don't have time to play dictator. I, we, we need to expand, and if I have to waste my people babysitting some resentful Italians, that's not ever gonna work. There's the Russians, Chinese, Arabs and they're hungry.”

John sniffs. “We could take Russians, or Chinese or half of feckin England if we stick to our ground.”

“Sure, and then, when we're depleted, some damned cartel boss is going to swoop in. Let them do that to the other ones first.”

John leans on his hand fixes him. “If this is about the Prima Donna -”

“It's a boy, John.”

“It's a goat for all I care. It's trouble, you eejit. How often have you seen him, once?” He scoffs. “Jesus, Terry. They're throwing kitties at you as we speak.”

He sighs. “Trying to buy their way in, they don't offer anything.”

“Oh, and he does?”

Christ, that smell. The ripeness of him. Health, too. He'd not lacked for anything. But those eyes were quick. The fire in them. And those lips...

John shakes his head. “Jesus, it's like fucking Troy.” He stands up. “You're getting killed tonight, you eejit, so I'm putting everyone on high alert. Again.”

Terry grins. “All I ask.”

“I will squeeze your Mandy for a payout, so,” John says. “That English bitch of hers can pay for the service.”

“I have no doubt,” Terry says. “You'll be King of the block, Johnny.”

But never more, and that is what he needs to find a way to prevent.

And this way is looking ever more appealing.

***

Sweet Mother of God, is he gorgeous.

And even more pissed off than last time.

“It's good to see you” gets him an: “Is it? Why?”

He touches his arm. “Come now, don't fish for compliments.” He leans over, whispers in his ear: “You know you're beautiful.”

The boy freezes for half a second. “And that's the most important thing?”

“It's all I know as yet.” He straightens up. “I was hoping we could change that.”

He blushes, look away, seemingly not a day older than fourteen. “And what if I don't want that?”

“Then you might miss out on some fun.” He winks at him. “C'mon. What do you have to lose?”

In fact, nobody can stay snippy on the subject of fun for very long, Terry knows that from experience, and soon enough they're knee deep into a discussion of Pop vs Swing. The boy is really into guitar, keeps talking about some fella called Reinhardt. It's refreshing, after all the Benny Goodman talk. But then he leans over, whispers in a conspiratorial tone: “But who I really like is Robert Johnson.”

Terry nearly spits out his wine. “Johnson?” he says, trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart. What do you have to be blue about?”

The hurt that flashes over his face makes Terry wants to kick himself. “I don't know,” the boy says, pulling back. “People not taking you seriously?”

“Daniele,” his mother interjects suddenly. “All this music talk – why don't you play us something?”

He frowns. “Ah, no, Ma...”

“Yes,” the Don says. “What a good idea. Daniele, get your instrument.”

There's a murmur of assent. And of course Terry wants to hear it, but he hates how the boy ducks together. “Why don't we all play something?” he says, looking at the rather grand piano in the adjacent room.

“My son is very good,” the Don says. “In fact, I'd say he sometimes even plays too much.”

Bastard. The utter bastard. Why put him on the spot like that? “Really, it'd be my pleasure,” Terry says, but the Don has fixed his son again. “Now, please, Daniele.”

Poor sweetheart, but there's little to be done. They all file into the other room as he slinks away to get a guitar.

But oh, baby knows his instrument. He can see the look of concentration that only comes from genuine enjoyment. Turn inside, Terry wants to whisper to him. Where it's you and the notes. Nothing else.

And when he seems poised to do just that:

“Mozart,” the Don says.

His head shoots up. “What?”

“It's all I've heard you play for days,” the Don says. “Mozart.”

“I'm not done with that one yet,” he says, turning pale. He looks to the room. “It's not written for guitar, I was transcribing it, please...”

The Don gives a thin smile. “Mozart.”

“Come on, Daniel!” that's the eldest. “We've all heard it!”

And now Terry can't help himself. “Do you mind?”

The boy seems to make a decision, by all accounts to get it the hell over with. He sits down, breathes in, and starts.

Oh, sweetheart. Sweetheart. It's Alla Turca, and those quick sixteenths are hard enough as it is on piano. (He should know, with old Dougal Andrews always urging him to play 'real music' until he finally relented and taught him this one, free of charge.) But those runs need supporting chords, and that's murderously difficult on solo guitar, so you're constantly stuck making compromises. It's not impossible, but it's hardly intuitive, and he sees the boy's brow furrow in pained concentration.

And then he stops.

Of course. Terry doesn't wait but walks over, opens the piano and continues the piece, hoping he's found the right key – by all accounts, he has – and nods at Daniel. The boy understands, plays the repetition as intended, but at least, with Terry on chords, he has his hands free to focus on the melody.

He sees him breathe out, relax.

Good boy.

He's even joking around with the tempi a little bit, little showoff, and draws out the end chord ridiculously long, until Terry sees the Don pull a face.

Serves him right.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and moves to put away his guitar, determinedly avoiding eye contact.

Well, he'll have to make him listen, then, won't he?

Terry puts his fingers back on the keys, can't help picturing what he'd like to do if those fingers were caressing someone's skin. And yet, he can't but well up a little; the last person he'd played this for was Mandy.

Oh, Danny Boy...

Not something often played in a room full of Italians, and he sees the uncle give him a hard look in the minute pause between phrases.

He plays all four verses, improvising as he goes. Then he closes the piano, looks back at the omega.

The boy gives him a half smile.

“I thought they played this at funerals?”

For one second, Terry's stunned.

This brat. Feckin Hell!

The Don nods at him. “Thank you, Daniele. Mr. Silver. Care to join me for a cigar?”

He looks back at the boy, who's had the decency to turn bright red.

Just you wait, little one.

Back in the Don's room, he smokes the cigar standing up. “I'm not going to spoil him.”

The Don's smile is thin lipped. “That's what I said to my wife.”

Terry grins. “I can't make out if he's brave or stupid at times.”

The Don lifts his chin. “He is very young.” He stands from behind the desk. “Do we have a deal?”

Terry straightens up as well. “I would never let him go,” he says. “Not for the whole world.”

“Don't worry,” the Don says. “I won't.” He nods. “I'll have my attorney send you the details. My wife Lucille will be in charge of the arrangements.” He walks past him, opens the door.

“Good night, son.”

[elizadoolittlethings]

MG - The Man Behind The Genius

(via Get Ready to Love Mark Gatiss)

“Can we just sit here and watch this Spider-Man cartoon?” Mark Gatiss smiles slyly but it’s not clear if he’s completely kidding. We’re sitting on a couch in The Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, New York where a small retro-TV is playing an appropriately retro episode of Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends. “I love cartoons,” Gatiss tells me. “Did you ever see the old Star Trek cartoon? It’s brilliant. It’s basically like season four.”

The guy sitting next to me might look like Mycroft Holmes, but he barely sounds like him at all. This guy is softer, more childlike, more down to talk about whatever, so long as those things are James Bond, Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Who, superheroes, Star Trek… In short, if you meet Mark Gatiss, you want to be best friends with him instantly.

For the uninitiated: Mark Gatiss is the co-creator (with Steven Moffat) of Sherlock. He’s also an actor IN Sherlock as Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s  snippy, brilliant older brother. He’s written for Doctor Who numerous times, including last season’s “Robots of Sherwood,” as well as the classic Dickens 2005 episode “The Unquiet Dead.” He’s got a recurring role on Game of Thrones as Tycho Nestoris of the Iron Bank, but has roots in the famous British comedy The League of Gentlemen. In short: he’s done some things that are beyond impressive.

Our chat is talking place two hours ahead of The Museum of the Moving Image’s special screening of the Doctor Who episode “Sleep No More,” which is the one Mark wrote for this season. And yes, I can call him Mark, because he told me to. Glancing over at my open-notebook, full of my chicken-scratch  questions, he spies the word “Gatiss,” at the top of the page complete with a frantic double underline. “Don’t say ‘Moffat’ or ‘Gatiss,’” he coos. “Say ‘Mark.’”

To say Mark Gatiss is disarming would be an understatement similar to saying Sherlock Holmes is smart. It’s not that Mark is disarming, it’s like you and he have been exchanging dog-eared paperbacks for years and this conversation about the animated Star Trek from the 70s is old hat. After we talk about how great the writing is on that cartoon Trek, I ask him if he’d ever want to write for Star Trek.

“The new series?!!“I love Star Trek, so yeah, I wouldn’t say no. Simon Pegg’s writing the new one [Star Trek Beyond]. So yeah. You never know!”

Is there anything else—any other established universe—Mark Gatiss would like to write for other than Star Trek?

“Nooo…No. I want to do something new. But it’s so hard to get it off the ground. I’ve said this many times, and it’s absolutely true. That there is a reason why people revisit brands that are so familiar; it’s because they’re so familiar! And it’s getting harder and harder to try and convince people to take a punt at something new. So, that is absolutely vital. Otherwise, there’s no blood in it—and I say this knowing that I’m associated with two of the biggest reboots in history—and people will always revisit Sherlock Holmes. And I think that now that Doctor Who has really returned after its absence, Doctor Who is imperishable. It will probably stop again one day and then come back again, because that’s what it does. Like anything. But, I would love to do something that people look back on fondly, because it was a brand new thing. But it’s terribly difficult—A. to think of it! B. To get it off the ground. What is the new thing! Sherlock Holmes himself said there is nothing new under the sun!”

What if Steven Moffat left Doctor Who? Would Mark still write for Doctor Who?

“Of course I’d still write for Doctor Who! If they’d have me! It’s a continuing honor and thrill! I would say that unlike Russell [Davies] saying ‘that’s me, done,’ I think that if Steven were to leave, he’d still come back after a few years and do another one. Because he loves it. I mean, Russell loves it too! But, I think Russell saw it as his take on it and that was it. Which is a very grown-up way of moving on. But I can’t resist the urge.”

When you’re hanging with Mark Gatiss, who wants to be a grown up anyway?

Would Mark want to be the showrunner of Doctor Who if Steven Moffat left?

“The truth is I know how incredibly demanding it is. And one of things that makes it very difficult to see is the sort of casual attacks Steven has had to put up with over the past few years. It’s incredibly hard work and they care so much. It’s a 24 hour job. And when people say ‘why can’t you make more episodes!?’ I mean, the episode we’re watching tonight: I was sent the final effect shot the day before I left for New York. That episode is just complete and it’s on this Saturday. There are so many things to consider. But to answer your question, I know how hugely demanding [showrunning] is, but also how hugely rewarding it would be. It’s a huge, life-changing decision. I’m an actor and a writer. I couldn’t act if I did it. Because I wouldn’t have time. The only thing I could act in would possibly be Doctor Who. WAIT A MINUTE! I’ll DO IT!”

At this, Mark begins giggling like a madman, throwing his head back and repeating “I’ll do it! This will effect my whole life? HA HA HA HA! I’LL DO IT!!”

The comedian, the sketch-comedy writer version of Mark Gatiss has emerged! Fittingly, we switch our conversation to the importance of humor in his writing. How and why is he just so damn funny? Is Doctor Who and Sherlock nothing without humor?

“Humor is fundamental. I couldn’t agree with you more. There’s a fundamental misunderstanding of why we love these shows. Essentially from slightly humorless people who thinks it needs to be po-faced all the time. The man who created the Daleks—Terry Nation—was Tony Hancok’s writer. He was a very, very funny man who could also write great science fiction. That’s what Russell is. That’s what Steven is. What I am. Lots of people. Humor is bound-up in the DNA of [Doctor Who]. ‘Robots of Sherwood,’ for instance, is a straightforward romp. But, you should no more criticize a show for being too funny—what’s wrong with too funny, anyway? You hear that a lot. Someone says ‘it’s too funny.’ WHAT? Too funny? Would your prefer it was moderately funny? I’d go for much too funny any day. That doesn’t mean you’re messing with the format, that you’re spoiling it. And if you look back at the history of the show, that’s what it’s always been at its best. It doesn’t get much grimmer than “Genesis of the Daleks.” But of course there’s humor. Of course there is. It might be pitch black, but it’s there. And sometimes the level is pitched one way and sometimes the other. But to me, it’s absolutely quintessential to Doctor Who, it’s a fun show.”

Though I would have loved to talk to Mark for hours only about Sherlock Holmes and his favorite stories and which movies are his personally, secret preferences, I decide that since we’re already best friends, we’ve had that conversation in some alternate world. Instead, I’m interested in continuity. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle flippantly didn’t care about continuity. Does Mark Gatiss care about continuity?

“Because we live in such an overly-examined age, in which everything is easily consumed and spat-out, everything has taken on a ludicrous level of importance. If Conan Doyle hadn’t had his famously lax attitude toward continuity, we wouldn’t be able to have the fun we have. From speculating on the strange fact that Professor Moriarty and his brother have the same Christian name, that Watson’s war-wound moves about, that Mary calls John “James”! I’m sure people did write to [Doyle] and complain, because there were always fans! But the thing is, it’s fine. My attitude is this: get it right if you can because if you’re perversely getting it wrong, it looks careless. But. Absolutely frankly: if someone came up with an idea for Doctor Who that flatly contradicted something that happened in 1967, fuck it. Of course fuck it! Someone once said to me ‘six months ago is ancient history,’ in terms of television. That’s true, because you’re talking about the general audience and not the fan audience. AND if you flatly contradicted something that happened in 1967, the fans would find a way of explaining it. I remember—in talking about Star Trek—someone telling me that reason William Shatner has so much eye shadow on in “Journey to Babel”—more than ever—is because Star Fleet officers are allowed to wear a certain amount of make-up during formal ceremonies! WHAT?!! I mean you don’t have to explain it! The Master was a snake at one point!”

Looking smooth, and talking smooth are something Mark Gatiss knows how to do, and that’s partially because he’s a big Bond fan. Could secret government mastermind Mycroft exist in the Bond universe?

“He does exist in the Bond universe! We made an explicit reference. In ‘His Last Vow,’ I say ‘As my esteemed colleague is fond of pointing out, what the country needs sometimes is a blunt instrument. Which is M! From the books! And of course I’d love to write a Bond film. It’s the one that’s eluded me. Me and Steven we both wanted to do Bond. I did From Russian With Love on radio!”

As our time comes creeping up on us, and the Spider-Man cartoon winds down, I ask Mark if there’s a world for a gay Bond? What about a straight Sherlock? The last one gets a guttural laugh from him, and we launch into the territory of diversity among established characters and fandoms.

“The point is to me, none of these things should be done because anyone feels pressure to tick a box. A show like Doctor Who has brilliantly celebrated gay people, incidentally, which to me is proper progress. But I think personally, there should absolutely be a female Doctor, a black Doctor, an Asian Doctor, but it’s because someone comes along who is absolutely indisputably the person for the job. With James Bond, it’s a literary antecedent. If you were for reasons of box-ticking made James Bond gay, that’s not James Bond. By all means have a gay spy! I’ve written about one myself! [Mark’s Lucifer Box novels] If you want to do a gay British Spy, adapt my books! That’s my advice. Do a franchise based on my books!”

Will Mark Gatiss fulfill his dreams of creating the next “new” thing that we will all love and obsess over? What is the future for our beloved Doctor Who/Sherlock writer? In addition to a film, more Doctor Who and the three new Sherlocks, that is. What is Mark’s secret project he hasn’t talked about yet?

At this he narrows his eyes, pats my leg and says with a Mycroft twinkle and almost a sneer:

“Can’t talk about it.”

Mark’s Doctor Who episode “Sleep No More” airs this Saturday.

[beaft]

Ok so I KNOW this is kinda in your faq but what’s the real answer about the abridged bible you wrote when you were 11? I need it

i’ll be honest: i wasn’t gonna answer this initially. not because i’m angry or anything! just because i get the same question every day, about ten times a day, both in my inbox and in my DMs, and it’s usually easier to just delete the asks and move on. but then i realised it’s actually been a while since i answered any questions about The Bible Post, and given the way it’s been blowing up recently, i probably should.

the answer to “are you going to publish the full thing?” is, “probably not, no.” 

the reasons for this are as follows:

when i publish things, i like them to be complete.

the Bible Post as it stands is 14 pages of choppy, unedited 11-year-old writing. apart from the bits you’ve seen, it’s not that funny, and it’s not that clever. a lot of it is jokes that i stole from monty python, or blackadder, or terry pratchett, or other things that i was into at the time. 

i don’t feel comfortable posting something (on ao3 or otherwise) that i’m unhappy with. that’s partly why i tend to delete old works that i no longer think are up to scratch, or current works that i can’t see myself finishing. (my 2010 fictionpress account is a barren desert with the occasional tumbleweed blowing sadly by.) 

the “probably” in my original answer is only there because someday (who knows?) i might rework it, and then publish it, if there’s enough interest. and i say “might”, because:

between my master’s degree, my job(s), and my original writing, i’m pretty swamped. that means i have to prioritise. i barely have enough time to write fic as it is (and i already feel guilty enough about that, as it’s technically just a hobby and not something that i need to be doing). 

when i rewrote the bible, i was an edgy preteen atheist who thought the idea of a big man in the sky was silly and that people who believed it were also silly. i no longer feel that way. this isn’t to say i can’t see the funny side of religion, or that i won’t ever parody it again - but i’d rather do so with humour that punches up rather than down, and is fair-minded rather than mean-spirited. 

i’d rather focus on my current creative output than rework old stories.

i don’t want to give the devil any more reasons to send me to hell.

if you want to know more, just mosey on down and click this ole link over here –> https://punkfaery.tumblr.com/tagged/the-bible-post

i hope this didn’t come across as snippy! i’m very glad that people are still enjoying that post; i just want to make it clear that you probably won’t see any more of it for the time being, unless someone else wants to have a go at redoing it. which they’re welcome to! i’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’d do a much better job than me.

peace out

[ophiniaonistecua]

((WELP))

Liz flicked casually through the selections. These uptown stores were so tightly set up she had to get used to flicking her fingers along bookspines and catalogs. 

“You can leave if I bore you.” She mused, peeking through the corner of her eye at the very unamused pair of oranges. 

“I’d do so in a heartbeat if you weren’t technically still in detention.” The long-snouted one snidely remarked, his beak high to emphasize his point. 

“As if.” With rolling eyes, she plucked a small vase off a shelf and glanced the label. Finding things to decorate a room with was hard. Especially when her experience lay with aggressively wrenching hand-me-downs from loot bags and discarded wares. Precise tastes were beyond her.

This helped explain why the darker orange figure was freaking out: The colors were all wrong!

“Elizabeth, you’re not free. Rehabilitation is more than a compound.” Terry corrected, pointing a sharp finger at her. Only Liz seemed aware that the two oranges, so strangely dressed up and acting up, drew the attention of everyone. 

“I’m allowed to buy a vase. That’s more freedom than I had before I was even arrested.” She swung the little glass item around, her high and mighty smile giving the pterodactyl something to trip over.

“And it’s Liz.” The triceratops harshly appended.

“Fine, fine.” Terry was curious, but held his lips shut. Not like he needed any more reason for her to be snippy. 

His attention reverted to her purchasing habits. She had remained somewhat practical, focusing on writing utensils and anything that might help give the place a little life. As well as showing off her tastes. Not surprises on that end.

Most noticeable was her constant, brief leers at anything too fancy. Her distaste for the upper classes extended to their paraphernalia, and it wasn’t a shock that he took this personal. His frown never had a chance to waver, and his stiff steps resisted the urge to stomp behind her. 

It was a mixed blessing when they stopped to take a bite. It’s hard to keep a frown when drinking and eating, even if she complained about the prices. Though judging by her words, she hated any type of eating out that wasn’t the bottom barrel price of a corner stand. Lilly almost seemed to agree, until her realized her agreement was only over the convenience of such stores while on the go.

Lilly whispered about how Liz wasn’t going to make many friends this way. Especially not with her taste in attire. When he brought this up, she took it personal.

“What, got a problem with something practical and comfortable?” The yellow lady sneered, posturing in the chair, enjoying her worn, yet comfortable, gear.

“It’s not the things, Liz, it’s the state. Look at them! They’re old and... to be honest the smell crosses open spaces too well.” Terry said in a defensive grumble.

“Yea!” Lilly took over instantly. Whatever she didn’t trust Terry to have the nuance to tackle the lady’s problem of fashion (her words), or if she just wanted to talk some more, hard to say. “You’re in a new place! New people! You need a new you! Or at least a you that looks fresh and ready to go.”

“Or... just.” The sturdy brown female wriggled her fingertips together in an awkward fashion. She leaned towards the table, taking a short, powerful sip of her drink’s straw. “Not rub off the unwashable musk onto every pillow on the couch.”

“You people.” Her eyes rolled up and away from the two.

“Liz, wait.” Her firm hand reached and patted the soft, baggy-pants clad knee. “I may or may not know a place that suits your needs!” Liz shuddered at that choice in words. “Trust me! It’s a place for you type.”

“If its out here, its for posers.” She refuted. 

“If that’s the situation, then aren’t you a poser?” Terry lifted his hand from his cheek for his statement, after which he rested his head once more in defeat.

“Doesn’t work like that.”

“What if someone took clothes from your district and sold them here?” Terry asked, his voice flat and half-sarcastic. 

“The brand.”

“Listen, Liz, there’s not a single sewerssucker that’s going to check the labels on a jacket to check your poser status. Not to mention, if you’re not a poser, what’s wrong with it?” 

Terry, unintentionally, got the yellow lady to resign. He smiled, trying to pass it off as intentional, which they both fell for. Before long, they were heading off to a final destination. 

Though Terry knew that look in Lilly’s eyes better than Liz did. The look of a plan, mixed with too much sugar and too much trust that money solves everything. 

And Liz herself just half-walked along. Pulled along on a leash, that’s what it felt like. At least an actual leash would look kinda cool. Trailing behind someone who skipped, while wearing something as bouncy as a cut kimono, was agitating. 

Once they were at the store, her mood shifted. An eyebrow went up, as she saw a few things that instantly caught her eye.

“I mean, I know your budget isn’t enough for the real deal. Buuuut I can chip in. Not like I got hobbies like Terry to waste my money on.” The hefty lady grinned wide in excitement. She had hopes and dreams riding on this one.

[iztarshi]

Murder on the Rockport Limited -- Episode 15

I'm going to begin this by wondering whether the crab maybe could have cleanly sliced his head off. It's got the rows and rows of teeth, but also big, snippy claws.

…seems unlikely, but no one else was THERE.

Yep, my theory, Hudson hid a temporarily stunned or sleeping giant fire crab on the drinks trolley… no no wait that doesn't account for the wand. At all.

What if Jenkins enchanted one of the doors from the little in-between bit and actually went somewhere ELSE where he got his head chopped off and then… came back??? Possible, I think, but kind of dumb.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Right, now to actually start reading the next chapter.

"Angus: I’ve found that not killing is pretty easy. I go long stretche- long periods of time without killing anybody."

Yeah. Yeah, really guys, I think the kid is concerned for your moral development now.

I think -- although it would complicate things for no reason -- that technically Angus' book should be intercepting the Scuttle Buddy? Or is magic eavesdropping distinct from sending magic messages?

"--currently cosplaying Taako as a stupid man, that may change, I--he’s kinda been going back and forth."

Yeah. Yeah, I thought so. So that's not deliberate, just part of figuring a character out.

I hadn't even thought of that with the hands. Did someone not know it had to be the engineer?

Yeah, I think Taako's intelligence just went up a bit. Mostly because otherwise Justin can't have ideas.

Travis deliberately explains his theory out of character, but it's still Angus who reacts to it, because it kind of has to be. It's not like the humans playing them can act WITHOUT acting through them.

So the hands are in the fake location, but it has to be the engineers hands. Hm. What if the person in the Engine car is Jenkins and the body was Hudson wearing a bow tie? Jenkins is the one that can use that wand so he's well equipped for going anywhere.

So he goes from the place between the carriages, kills Hudson, puts his hands on the thing, then goes back to IMPERSONATE Hudson.

Yeah. That would work.

Ooh. Yeah. Same theory as they have. Let's see if any of us are right.

"Taako: By the way, classic Jenkins to use a crab instead of just using a spell slot."

He's just never going to let that go.

That's a terrible plan. A terrible plan. Have they forgotten the damage the crab took being shoved outside the train to scrape all the way down it? And won't casting levitate on someone's shoes cause them to hang in the air upside down?

Okay, Magnus gets to learn to balance on his shoes without having to roll for it. I, um. Probably would have made him roll. Because really? But then what if he'd wound up upside down and unable to do the thing?

"Clint: Well, we could hold the other end of the rope-- Taako: [overlapping] Eh, well, that seems like a lotta work-- Travis: [overlapping]: I don’t trust you fuckers!    Taako: What if- what if I get bored? Travis: See!"

Yeah, don't trust them. Well, you can maybe trust Merle. Don't trust Taako. He'll drop you if he decides things need to be sped up.

Magnus has a very SPECIFIC kind of lateral thinking. The kind where he uses things in unexpected ways, and the result is always a really unlikely attack. (Heroic Freestyle! …I think most people likely to bother reading a liveblog by me are Girl Genius fans and will get what I mean.)

I actually KNOW Magnus survives long enough to be in the rest of the story, but every time he does one of these stunts I still wonder how he isn't dead yet.

"Griffin: Uh, and uh, we’re gonna get into combat, but I’m going give you a surprise round on him since this was all very, very surprising."

Griffin is very nice to them. Which is fun, I'm glad they don't die, but he very obviously doesn't want them to die either.

It makes their style seem the equivalent of that, uh, isn't there a saying that it's worse to face a man who doesn't know how to use a sword than one who does, because the one who doesn't might do ANYTHING. Is that a saying or is that Terry Pratchett? Anyway, that's their style. Bewildering the enemy into submission.

The question of whether Griffin is going to wind up playing three NPCs fighting three NPCs… this is going to be a thing by the Stolen Century arc, isn't it? At that point it pretty much has to be.

Woo. The mystery is solved, Jenkins is… I was going to say dead, but actually who knows.

And we'd all better REALLY HOPE Taako can figure out that wand.

[msfbgraves]

Something more lighthearted! 

It cracks me up that Terry would phone and pester around looking for a babysitter in the middle of the day just because he was horny and wanted to fuck Daniel hahaha! What, does he just bluntly tell the sitter “I want to fuck my omega” lol? Anyway, I can just picture Daniel, hands on hips with an apron on, about to start supper, asking him why he’s home at this hour, and where all the pups are, and Terry grinning and saying they’re with the sitter, and Danny, baby—I’m here for a fuck. 

Daniel, rolling his eyes at his insane husband: Are you serious, Terry? I mean, you kept me up late last night, and I’m still tired and—

Terry scoops him up mid sentence, and strides to their bedroom with intent: Hush. We’ve got the house to ourselves, sweetheart—

Daniel, helpless, and annoyed that he’s already turned on: Terry, I was about to start baking—

Terry: —and you can be as loud as you like. No pillow biting, no mouth covering. I want to hear every single thing I’m doing to you.

Daniel, blushing furiously: Well. Damn it. Okay. Fine, fine!

A very good time was had. Though I suppose Daniel was snippy later because he had to change the bedsheets. Again. Ugh. Alphas!

Haha, Nonnie I have more lighthearted asks but I need to chew on integrating the darker and lighter scenes of their marriage a bit better otherwise I get tonal whiplash, let alone everyone else!

But this has happened so often and Daniel would be a little snippy about the sheets because that is one of the few things he could not ask anybody else to do.

Terry meanwhile tells a few of his people: "You're taking my pups don't come back before 6 anything happens I'll skin you alive no pressure. Sure your wife can watch them give my love to Linda btw. Now get your coats and your guns and here's something to buy them all a lollipop with. Yasmin can't have two and you will have to deal with that, good luck."