#would lilith be able to hear their telepathic conversations? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskydreaming · 3 years

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I’m writing this scene between Lilith and Bruce right now, and I just cut a whole segue their conversation took because it derailed it too far from where I meant to take it and was more of a meta thought anyway.

So I’m just gonna verbalize it here so as not to waste that thought. You’re welcome!

But purely on a pet peeve note (and this seriously isn’t a response to something I read lately, I feel like people always think that’s what prompts everything I say but honestly, sometimes shit just pops into my head and this is one such instance lol) - anyway like, lemme just express real quick how much I LOATHE the term ‘mindrape.’

Like. Please stop forever with that, sci-fi and fantasy themed media and entertainment. That’s not a thing. Stop trying to make it a thing.

To be perfectly clear, like, the idea of a telepath or someone via some technology or magic being able to go into your head and view or pluck out your most private, carefully guarded thoughts? Abso-fucking-lutely something that can and should be viewed as a violation, in universe.

Its just....not rape. Its literally not.

I honestly do think that the rise of this particular term was because people thought about it and just HOW intimate and personal one’s thoughts can be, especially someone who is used to being closed-off and emotionally guarded, and when trying to come up with a way to describe this that captured the INTENSITY of the violation people were picturing when they imagined this.....that’s how people ended up linking it to rape as a way of conveying just how awful a violation it was?

But like.....rape is a very specific act, is the thing. It has specific context, it has specific catalysts, framing, fallout. Rape has its own name rather than just being described as a violating assault or an act of violation, because rape is a SPECIFIC act that carries its own connotations in our society. And those connotations aren’t something that entertainment should feel comfortable borrowing just to use as like, a benchmark for how awful a completely fictitious concept might be.

Because that dilutes the very purpose of giving rape its own name in the first place. The more its likened to an abstract sense of violation that feasibly encompasses pretty much anything that falls under the umbrella of personal violation.....the less it stands out as notably different from other forms of violation and calls to mind the things that MAKE it different, and thus warrant it being treated differently or approached in a specific way.

And here’s the thing about WHY rape has its own terminology:

First....there’s the fact that whether we like it or not, the simple reality is our society is obsessed with sex. We live in a very heavily sexualized world, where its often difficult to completely separate ANYTHING from sexual connotations. Its easier to make just about anything ABOUT sex than it is to make anything that’s remotely sex-adjacent about something OTHER than sex.

Now combine that with the fact that while rape is about power, and taking it from a victim or exerting it over a victim.....rape is INTRINSICALLY connected to sex. True, rape is not sex, its an act of aggression, not a sexual act. There is no way to engage in rape without simultaneously engaging in violence. There is no way for someone to consent to what is inherently by definition a stripping away of consent.

Rape is not sex. But sex is the VEHICLE by which a rapist takes or exerts power SPECIFICALLY. While at the exact same time, a HUGE part of why survivors struggle so much with getting the support they need in recovery.....is because due to how SEXUALIZED rape is in our society, in our media and just our very conversations of it, most rape survivors face the stumbling block of their assault and violation being viewed as more about sex than it was power.

Essentially, even though on the surface even most people ‘know’ that rape isn’t sex and rape is about power.....lots of people fall into the trap of looking at rape and thinking of it as sex gone wrong, or sex someone regrets, or tons of other thoughts that have more to do with sex than rape. Because from a pretty early age, anyone who doesn’t ALREADY have their own view and awareness of rape....has their view of rape then informed pretty much just by how its depicted and presented in media and entertainment. Where its of course heavily filtered through a very sexual lens.

So even while consciously KNOWING that rape isn’t an act of sex but one strictly of violence, entitlement and power....lots of people still have to contend with and push back against a foundation of it being more closely associated with sex in their minds, as the easily visualized IMAGE of what rape LOOKS like on the surface.....than other things it has more in common with once you look at anything OTHER than the visual of it, such as focusing on the motivating factors for rape and WHY rapists do what they do.

Theft, coercion, other crimes and concepts that more accurately reflect a rapist’s desire to TAKE what they were told was not theirs to take or to just degrade or humiliate someone in the most intimate way possible, or to turn a person’s very body into a weapon against them or to injure someone in a way that is meant to be more lasting or permanent in its effect on a person than just inflicting a physical wound.....any and all of these things have far more to do with why rapists rape than a simple desire for sex.

Rapists don’t rape because its the only way for them to have sex, even. Because even when rape is very much attraction based....its STILL not about just wanting to have sex with the person of their focus....its about wanting to have sex with them even despite being told no, or without giving them even the chance to say no. Even when a rapist ONLY targets a person because of their specific physical attraction to that person and their desires/fantasy to have sex with that specific person and not someone else.....the crime itself is still ABOUT stripping that person of their personhood in order to simply act upon them as the OBJECT of their focus/attraction...rather than any kind of a partner in a mutually beneficial or engaged-in act.

But despite all of that.....ask any non-survivor what springs to mind first when they hear the word ‘rape’....and chances are the resulting thoughts are more instinctively geared towards sex than power.

All of this is directly linked to our tendency as a society to view and treat and even talk about rape in terms of it most commonly being sex that got out of control. Despite the fact that no act of rape was EVER going to be an act of sexual partnership......because the very thing that turns something FROM sex INTO rape....is the MOMENT a rapist determines or feels that sex with a person is off the table or simply not what they’re interested in.....because they either don’t have or don’t WANT their victim’s partnership in what happens. They simply want to take. To steal. To use. To abuse.

Without exception.

Honestly, this got a lot more indepth than I was intending to go when I was just riffing off of a thought that popped into my mind about how I just really don’t like the term mindrape.....but a big part of the problem I have with the term is how indepth you basically HAVE to go in order to fully convey just why the term is so.....not a valid comparison to make to rape, with anyone who doesn’t already have an instinctive or reactive understanding of rape that’s more based on what rape TAKES than with how its usually depicted or talked about, where its in terms of what rape LOOKS like.

Because alllll of the above connotations and how important and central they are to any actual examination or discussion of rape....they simply do not carry over into a concept like someone reading your mind without permission.

Again, its not that such a thing wouldn’t be extremely violating IMO. It absolutely would be.

My point is simply that rape is always a violation, but violations are not always rape. SEXUAL violations are rape. But there’s a ton of ways a person or even something like a law or concept or even a freaking BUSINESS contract can be violated. And these aren’t interchangeable.

Are a person’s most intimate thoughts something incredibly personal, something no one should be allowed to take without permission? Sure. Absolutely. But imagine how else such a scenario could take place even in our real world, without needing a concept such as telepathy to make it feasible. Think about anything from someone reading a person’s carefully guarded or hidden diary or journal where they record thoughts they NEVER expect or want someone else to be privy to. Think about someone being tortured to give up information they’d be willing to give up their life to keep secret. Think about a burglar breaking into someone’s home when they’re not there and going through all their most personal belongings, leaving evidence that some stranger has been there and seen and touched all of that and you now don’t feel like you have the ability to keep anything safe and hidden from others, even in the safety and security of your own home.

Are all of these things different kinds of violation, most of which carry a great degree of intensity and personal betrayal or harm?

Absolutely.

But are any of them interchangeable with RAPE?

Or are they a bit easier to separate from from that concept once laid out to this degree, to see as completely separate and distinct things that may have some overlap but not necessarily even in the same ways or places they’re usually viewed as overlapping with rape as a concept?

Since I began this as a fandom related concept, lemme bring that back for a final thought.

Instead of likening other things TO rape, imagine if we did the same thing in reverse, and likened rape TO other things instead.

In terms of even just Batcharacters.....think about how often its been raised as an actual STORY point, that many Bat characters have shown a willingness or even tendency to cross all kinds of ethical boundaries and illegally surveil someone or intrude upon boundaries in the name of ‘the greater good’ or because they feel the ends justify the means.

Now imagine if all of those instances, no matter how large or small a violation....from a simple breaking and entering job to get inside a Rogue’s secret hideout in order to steal the location of their next crime....to putting bugs and cameras into someone’s home without their knowledge or permission and even just being able to spy on them naked or when revealing extremely personal information while thinking there’s no one else around to hear it, regardless of whether or not that’s what the character intends those to be used for or never actually uses them in that way.....

Imagine if all of THOSE violations were considered, viewed and talked about as not just breaches of privacy but as RAPE, specifically....with any relevant Bat-characters thus by extension specifically being rapists for having engaged in such violations.

And then, let’s flip the script back AGAIN, and now look at those instances where characters intrude, surveil, cross boundaries or invade privacies in the name of trying to save people or prevent tragedies or in the name of that always handy alleged ‘greater good.’

Try using that ‘in the name of [...]’ clause in regards to when and why a rapist rapes, and see how......not good that is. Has any of the above EVER been an ACTUAL justification for why someone rapes someone else? COULD it ever be? I know there’s the fuck or die trope and there’s more than a few variations of it in which one hero is forced to essentially rape another one or someone innocent or else the villain will kill them both, or kill the other person, or something like that....but even then, the actual RAPE is still on the villain or person exerting coercion, so no, not even then is rape being done in the name of saving/protecting someone or some supposed greater good. Its still the villain that’s doing the actual violating, that’s making the CHOICE to set up this scenario and limit the hero’s options to either ‘participating’ or signing someone’s death warrant....and just like sex is the vehicle by which rape occurs, the ‘raping’ hero is in this kind of scenario STILL just being used as a proxy by the actual person with the actual intent and desire to violate and assault the other person, and in being used in such a way, and in an inherently sexualized way themself.....it simply makes the ‘raping’ hero still not an actual rapist, but an additional rape victim of the ultimate villain as well.

See how complicated and messy this all gets, and how quickly?

And especially given that it doesn’t ever NEED to get there, in either direction, since there’s plenty of ways to describe varying types and degrees of violation with specificity, without resorting to ‘rounding up’ to refer to them as rape as a shorthand for expressing it was a particularly intimate or sensitive violation - and without losing sight of the fact that violations that result even in the THEFT of sensitive, personal information or secrets.....still only result in things like pieces of INFORMATION being what’s stolen, rather than someone’s entire bodily autonomy and personal agency.

Anyway, in conclusion the point is really just that we come up with the terms we do for specific reasons, and while language and contexts do evolve, grow, and even wholly change over time for a variety of reasons, it is important to take note of when that happens so we can determine if that change SHOULD be happening or if key contexts or connotations are being left out or overlooked in the process or wake of language changing.

And while I kept my point here limited to the example of rape and ‘mind rape,’ it applies to a ton of other stuff and topics as well. This just happened to be the one on my mind at the moment, but this kind of awareness can and should definitely be applied to a lot of other discussions involving sensitive or emotionally charged topics as well.

We come up with specific words and terms with INTENT. The creation of a specific term or phrase almost always involves having seen a NEED for such specificity in the first place, in order to denote key differences between something and other things it might be similar to but not fully described or encompassed by previously existing words or phrases.

Before treating concepts as interchangeable, we should always take care to make sure that they are, in fact, actually interchangeable.

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simpmeon · 4 years

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Red: Companions

Pairing: Any Demon Brother x Gender Neutral MC, Diavolo x Gender Neutral MC Genre: Angst Word Count: 2k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing // Implied Smut

The Fall // Rebirth // Betrayal // Companions // Revenge

His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater.

And you will have your revenge.

The masquerade was everything you expected it to be. You saw all the exchange students that followed you and each one left a more bitter taste in your mouth than the last. One seemed to be hanging off every brother, asking for the one you fell in love with and where he was. You could see the annoyance on their faces as they grabbed onto their arms and held their hands, begging for a dance. They were the one directly after you, a demonologist who dedicated most of their time to studying the demon brothers, both before and after the program. You could feel the disgust and anger waft off of them with every passing second. The one after the demonologist was a spoiled wizard who only saw their place as the new ruler of Devildom, only getting to the brothers to get closer to Diavolo. The third and fourth housemates were apparently twins that went down in different years. Those two did not not even bother showing up, citing fear of being eaten as their excuse, and the fifth housemate just strutted through the door, hickeys covering their exposed neck as they entered arm and arm with the demon you fell in love with.

None of the brothers had really noticed your presence yet, but that was your own doing. Slinking between demons, hiding in the kitchen and hallways, standing behind Diavolo’s massive frame, anything to keep an eye on those fiery red locks and the other brothers. You wanted a dramatic reveal that you were not only a demon, but that you died with him being the last thing on your mind. You basically hung onto Diavolo all night, your composure eliciting praise from Diavolo.

Diavolo’s big speech was almost here, where he would introduce all of the exchange students that came before you, humans and angels alike. All of them were hanging out in a special room chatting away, but you mostly hung around on the outside of the room. Inside you could see Luke and Simeon, as well as Solomon, telling their stories of the first exchange program.

“I heard the first person to live with the brothers was a descendant of Lilith! I must see if they match my sketch of Lilith!” The demonologist would squeal gleefully. Simeon would only laugh and go to describe Lilith in great detail from what he could remember. The demonologist ate up every word the angel breathed, ecstatic to meet one of the highest ranking angels in the entire Celestial Realm. Luke and Simeon have yet to mention the fact that they saw you fall to the Devildom, probably because you haven’t spoken to them since they last saw you on the pathway to the Celestial Realm.

Poor Luke was still getting doted on by the angels and humans alike, his blush getting redder and redder with each head pet. Solomon was the only one who seemed to have noticed that you were behind the door, listening in and watching. You two would sneak glances at each other, almost conversing telepathically between each other. He was just as fed up with the other humans as you were which was refreshing to see. His eyes were glued especially on the one with fire red hair. No one really mentioned the fact that all the humans had a ring of some sort around their necks, all the humans giving some excuse of your old flame giving the rings as parting gifts to them so they would never forget their year in Devildom. You felt your body go rigid as they would talk about their times with the brothers and their times with your lover.

EX-lover

You had to remind yourself of that as you fiddled with the ring around your neck. Something that brought you immense comfort now brought nothing but pain to you. You had physically died twice in your life now, but the pain you felt whenever you would touch the ring was worse than any death.

You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, and your head snapped up to see Solomon looking at you with worry. The two of you walked further down the hall, away from all the commotion to be shrouded by the dim light of the candlelit hallways. You had been texting Solomon about your plan to reveal yourself at the masquerade, however he did express concern with the idea. Having not had the chance to speak face to face about the situation, he pulled you further down the hallways until you could barely hear the words from the room.

“Are you sure you want to do this? What if you lose control?” Solomon whispered, hand grabbing yours.

“That’s what Diavolo is for and that’s what you’re about to be for.” You replied with a chuckle. “If you make a pact with me you’d be able to get me to stop with a simple command, right?”

Solomon’s eyes shot open at that, completely in shock before relaxing with a smirk. “So. You’ve been a demon for a little less than a year and you want to make a pact with me?”

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’ve known you for five years now…I agree that you’re a shady little shit but ….you’re my closest friend.” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I would like to make one with you one day.”

Solomon sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “Listen Y/N, you’re powerful and would make an amazing pact mate considering you had all seven of the strongest demons I’ve ever known under your belt, but you’re not stable enough right now. Have you even been in your demon form tonight yet?”

“W-well. No. Dia wants it to be a surprise! And plus, if I was in my demon form heand the brothers would’ve saw me and so would Red over there and knew something would be up! It was easier to just maintain my normal form and slink around.” You explained, a light red tint on your cheeks.

Solomon smirked and let go of your hand to rest it on the wall, his free hand on his hip. “And what were you slinking around for?” He asked, amused.

You took a deep breath, blush tinting your cheeks at his playful tone. “I just wanted the rundown on those who came after me, and how they treated the boys. From what I’ve seen they’re all insufferable except for Red, but then again they showed up late so I couldn’t get a good read on them. They all seem to have no clue who I am.”

Solomon sighed again, now opting to lean against the wall with one leg and his arms crossed, although there was still that mischievous smile on his face. “That’s because the other students don’t know about you besides what they gathered themselves. I think the brother’s decided it would be best to not mention you and to stop comparing you to the other exchange students, for their sake. One of the few perks of having a twenty-four seven access point to this place is that you get to pick up on behaviors. For a whole month after you left Lucifer would grumble about how you were late with his coffee only to realize you weren’t there….Leviathan didn’t leave his room for three months….Belphegor slept in the attic more…even Satan began slipping back into his old habits of leaving books everywhere and untouched. I know Beelzebub stopped eating for a while and Mammon was almost never home, working constantly and then immediately spending the money….hell even Asmodeus stopped taking care of himself because you weren’t around. Do you know how annoying he can be sometimes? How many hours I spent cuddling him? Ugh, it was annoying.” He grumbled. “Don’t even get me started whenever Asmodeus would swing violently from being horny to being depressed.”

“Awww was someone tired of being the top?” You jested, poking his arm and giggling at the blush that took over his face. Getting Solomon embarrassed was such a delight because of how rare it happened.

“No! That’s not it at all! I’m just a very busy man.” He muttered, turning his face away from you to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Mhmm…of course you are wizard boy. Now go back into that room before Simeon goes searching.” You giggled, pushing Solomon gently, but he still managed to almost get slammed to the ground. The minute Simeon’s name left your lips, you frowned. How was Simeon? How was Luke? How were they handling the news…

“Why don’t you go in the parlor yourself?” Solomon asked, fixing his suit and tie, almost reading your mind. You pursed your lips together and gripped the ring that swung from your neck. Solomon picked up on the shift in your mood easily, once again standing closer to you. “Is it because of the exchange students?”

“They’re…..one of the reasons.” You answered, spinning the ring between your thumb and index finger. “Simeon and Luke were the ones to watch me fall…and I just don’t want them to know what I’ve become… not yet…”

“Oh…Simeon did mention that to me. He asked about you. Luke did too.”

“…What did you say?”

“That you became a demon. I didn’t tell them anything past that. Luke didn’t want to believe that, especially since they saw you on the way to the Celestial Realm. Simeon beats himself up almost everyday that he stood there and watched you fall from the heavens. Apparently Luke was practically beating him, yelling at him to save you with tears in his eyes. Simeon said he was crying too. They even went to Michael about asking God to save you, but by then you were already a demon and although you sinned as much as the next guy, the pacts with the brothers are what ultimately made them deny you passage.” He answered.

“Oh…” You muttered, biting your lip. So they did know about you being a demon after all. That’s good at least, the shock won’t be too bad for them then.

“Having sex with them also didn’t help your case.” Solomon added with an evil smirk.

Now you were a blushing, sputtering mess making Solomon laugh out loud. You pouted and crossed your arms, cheeks still a nice tint of pink. Solomon smiled and swung an arm around your shoulder so his laughter was right by your ear. He pressed a cheeky peck on your temple before flashing the peace sign and walking back into the parlor with the other students.

You watched him from around the corner as he entered back into the parlor, the warming glow of the candles casting orange light in the otherwise black hallways. You could smell the cinnamon and you could hear the laughter of all the students and part of you wishes you would have the courage to force yourself to walk in there, but you were too scared. Too scared of seeing Luke and Simeon and having their guilt take over them, too scared to see Red and to be bombarded by those who were just cheap replacements, not to mention the other angels who you’ve never met before.

You sank down the wall, legs outstretched and arms crossed one over the other. You thought about the hickeys on their neck, how miserable he looked to be walking in with them, disguised with a smile. The way his brothers treated him like a stranger….how every exchange student under the same roof was enthralled by them. How cute for him to prevent them from entering the Celestial Realm and for leading them on because of his ways. His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater.

And you will have your revenge.

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Look at me, back on the vermish train

Okay so, you and your soulmate can communicate with each other telepathically. Most often, it's a conscious thing, you have to intend to do it. However (who doesn't love angst skjsjw) it can happen that during moments of intense fear or rage or even unfiltered joy -- so basically, overwhelmed, I guess -- you can project without even knowing.

Remember how I said I loved the idea that Vera's name isn't Vera? Yeah, we're going with that one here too. For the sake of making sure all of these in the same collection have similar facts to them, we're gonna say her name is Sophia.

Since she was like 4 or 5, Vera's been trying to talk to her soulmate. She's sure at this point that her soulmate is either deaf or dead. When Hamish is eventually capable of coherent thought, Vera tells him this. He thinks it's funny. She thinks it's rude that she had to wait so long to get some responses.

"The kids at kindergarten are being mean to me." "Tell them Sophia Stone can and will fuck them up." "You said a bad word! You thought a bad word!"

I like my childhood best friends turned lovers trope okay, so Vera and Hamish grow up "together" telling each other nearly everything.

When he's 12, Hamish realises that at this point, the age gap between them is pretty huge considering Hamish hasn't hit puberty yet while Vera's somewhere having a baby.

"Tell her I said hi." "She kicked me. I don't think she likes you." "She will."

When the little baby dies, Hamish hears nothing but Vera's choked sobs for days on end. He doesn't know what to do. He's just a kid himself -- so is she, to be honest -- but he does his best.

"I saw a shooting star. I'm sure that was her. Did you see it?" "The curtains are closed. Give her a wave from me?" "Of course, Soph."

When Vera packs up and leaves everything behind her, she leaves behind Sophia. She tells Hamish that she's changing her name but given that he refuses to stop calling her Sophia over every single name she suggests, she never actually remembers to give him her new one. Besides, Hamish knows every goddamn thing about her. As far as she cares, he can call her whatever the hell he wants.

Many many many years later, by the time Jack Morton has come to town, Vera still hasn't given Hamish her new name and Hamish has actually forgotten that she said she'd changed her name.

Chancellor Vera Stone knows that Hamish Duke is a TA at Belgrave. She wonders if that's her Hamish. Sometimes she wants to go up to him and strike a conversation. She's not sure what she's afraid of more: that he is or that he isn't.

If he isn't, then she's gone and shown affection. Besides that, she would have expectations and hopes and they'd all come crashing down.

If he is, then he's in a shitload of danger, given her position in the Order. Better to keep him unaware and safe. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Hamish thinks about telling his Sophia about the Knights. He never does. He'd already lost Cassie. He remembered all the times he lay awake at night, thinking about Cassie and then he would get so overwhelmed with how amazing she was, he'd eventually hear a voice in his head "SHUT THE FUCK UP SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP"

After Cassie's death, if he thought to much about Cassie, the little voice in his head would be much more consoling and softer.

"I saw a shooting star. Do you think that was her?" "I saw two." And she would quieten, probably lost in her own thoughts about her daughter.

It was then, around the same time someone had murdered one of Vera's close friends in the Order, that they both mastered the art of keeping their thoughts to themselves. They could never let each other into the dangers and the death in their lives. They were both safer off never knowing the Knights or thr Order existed.

"Vera," Jack says several months after arriving and bringing the catalyst for a shitstorm, "this is Randall, Hamish, and Lilith. They'll try not to kill you."

Vera glares at them. The Knights of St Christopher, enemies to the Blue Rose. "I suppose I can try too."

"Well, that would be highly appreciated."

Vera wouldn't say she was an expert, but being part of a secret society that requires masks to be worn in certain circumstances, one has to have at least some level of skill in identifying voices. As the Temple Magus, it's no surprise that Vera is very good at identifying voices. And the voice that came out of that werewolf's mouth was the same one she'd been hearing in her head all her life.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the luxury of time to sit and talk about it.

Hamish doesn't notice. In his minimal defence, he's still convinced the voice in his head belongs to a Sophia.

Vera considered being the one to powder Hamish. Leader to leader. Soulmates. She won't admit it, but she chickened out. She didn't think she'd be able to do it if she looked him in the eyes without the threat of death around the corner.

Werewolf or not, Hamish was still the person she trusted most in the whole world. She was afraid that if she looked him in the eye, she'd break.

"When you hit Mr Duke with the pulveris memoriae, make sure you tell him [important stuff] and that his soulmate's name is Sophia." "Why is that important--" "are you questioning me, Medicum?" 0.0 "no, Grand Magus"

Selena wants to know why Vera knows the name of a werewolf's soulmate, but she really doesn't want to cross paths with Vera again.

"I feel like I'm missing something. I don't know what it is." "... are you wearing pants?" "You know that's not what I mean, Soph."

Guilt eats Vera up nearly every single day. He's safer this way, she tells herself. Away from the Order and all the dangers it brings.

When Lilith brews the potion to restore and protect their memories, Hamish is swarmed by every single conversation he ever had with Sophia and like a semi-trailer truck, realization strikes him.

"That bitch!" "Who?" "Uh . . . The Order." "Same"

Hamish doesn't say anything to Vera that he wouldn't normally, and he doesn't say anything to "Sophia" either.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Hamish: oh you already fuckin know about this don't you, you little witch, I'll show you a tall glass akxnsnsb

Shenanigans ensue as Hamish tries to keep Vera and Sophia separate so that Vera doesn't figure that the Knights have their memories back.

"Hamish, who are you talking to?" "....Myself."

"Hamish, who's Sophia?" "..............no one." "Sure..."

"Mr Duke, are you talking to my floor?" Vera asks to break Hamish's concentration because she's trying very hard to reprimand Randall for something and it's not helping that Hamish's voice is in her head. "Not at all, Magus." Tight smiles as they refrain from attempting to maim each other while having a "normal" conversation in their heads.

Randall: what the fuck is all this eye sex about

OKAY BUT VERA WITH THE PROMETHEANS????

Hamish is on Foley's tail but he has to stop for a minute to catch his breath because every single moment of pain in Vera's life is screaming into the mind of every Promethean, but also his.

"Miss Dupres told me you let Foley get away earlier." "I did." "You didn't. What happened?"

Hamish wants to tell her what happened but he also doesn't want to shatter the fragile barrier between Sophia and Vera. Between the light-hearted joyous woman in his head and the broken and hardened leader in front of him.

"Nothing happened, Vera. He got away earlier. That's all."

All he wants is to hold her. For so many years, on the anniversary of the baby girl's death, he'd wished he could be there to give her a hug and hold her while she cries. Every year. And now, now she's standing right in front of him but he can't let her know. He can't let her know he knows.

Hamish watches her turn to leave. She shudders once before composing herself and starting to walk.

Fuck it.

Vera is startled when she finds herself trapped. Her first instinct is panic. Pure fear and terror. Then anger settles in because to her, as far as Hamish knows, he is a disciple of the Order. The anger barely lasts a second, though.

I saw a shooting star before I came down here. I gave her a hello from you

Vera just knows the voice was in her head and not out loud. She stands still as Hamish buries his face in her shoulder. "I miss her. Every single day. Today was . . ."

"I know."

"You know, I think she would have liked you, eventually," Vera whispers honestly. Hamish laughs. "Are you agreeing that I'm likeable? Werewolf hide and all?"

"Don't get greedy, Acolyte."

"What defines greedy, Magus? Stealing a kiss or two?"

"I'm warning you--"

No one believes the Acolyte that says she saw the Grand Magus furiously making out with one of the disciples. Well, not no one.

Randall waltzes into the den. "Guess what, Lame-ish? I heard that the teacher you've been thirsting over was seen with one of the disciples in the temple. According to the Acolyte, she--"

"Yes, I know, I was there."

"You saw them?!"

Raised eyebrow

"YOU WERE THEM????"

Mr Duke, if you say one more word to Mr Carpio, I will revoke your access to the reliquary and spread word that you got called out for being a nerd in fourth grade and your response was to recite positive synonyms for nerd to defend yourself.

Hamish snorts and won't tell Randall what was so funny.

and we have to stop here because if I go on, we'll head into angst territory and I've got too many happy vibes going on here to make it angsty without feeling sad myself.

Me: has 4 other drafts in here waiting to he completed and posted.

Also me: I'm gonna do another soulmate au set

See the other headcannons I've screamed about lately

#hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #the order #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #the knights of the blue rose #soulmate au #soulmates #please just give me the soulmate au i want #mara-writes

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devinclaire · 5 years

Text

Taurus- Moon Cycle Horoscope

Curious to read a Moon Cycle Horoscope? As a birthday gift to all the Tauruses out there, below you’ll find your Moon Cycle Horoscope for the Taurus New Moon. Not a Taurus and looking for your sign? You’ll find it in the Shop, or consider joining the New Moon Social Club to receive your horoscope every month.

New Moon Social Club

Re: Taurus during the Taurus New Moon Cycle

All Times are Pacific Standard Time

With all this metaphorical lightening striking in your life these last two months a New Moon in your sign feels like solace after clawing through the forest unable to find a path. Now you have a moment to look up and see the stars. It’s peaceful.

Enjoy a deep breath of pine air while you can as there is very intense, destiny altering energy afoot. Does it make sense now, that all this turmoil was training for this exact moment? When the choice really matters, you’re able to stand in the eye of the storm.

Did I forget to mention that it’s your birthday? Forgive me. The energy of chaotic Uranus threw me off! Yes there’s adventure taking place right in your own backyard, but that doesn’t mean we can forget we’re celebrating the season in which the Sun travels to the exact spot where it shone the day you were born. If you’re a Taurus Rising this season honors the constellation that crossed over the horizon the moment you took your first breath.

It’s so much to marvel over, so many fragments of space rock and clusters of gas had to align in all the right place, willing you to come about to live that stellar frequency in the form of a human. The Universe applauds that you decided to show up, and over the next 7 years is giving you opportunities to let your genius take you to new realms.

I know there’s a part of you that’d love to lounge in the fields of flowers with Ferdinand the bull, and there’s a lot of value in that, but like Ferdinand, you’re being called to do something completely revolutionary. I didn’t say it would be easy, but it definitely won’t be boring!

So, what is this destiny challenge you’re being asked to complete? Your spiritual side is needing more and more space to be free and out in the open, you find more and more that you need to have the ability to say to someone, “This is my opinion on this matter,” and not be worried about having the exact right response before you speak.

This new practice may come easier as Mercury, the planet of communication, travels into your sign on Monday, May 6th. Everyone’s words will come slower as if the letters are sticking to their ribs. This will give you a chance to get your thoughts out into the open where they can fly. Those around you have no excuse when they claim they didn’t hear what you said. They certainly heard what you said, and it shook them to their core.

Do you need extra proof that this is a good idea? There’s been movement in your 11th House of your hopes and dreams. The energy is one that doesn’t want to listen to any master. It’s the energy of Lilith, the first wife of Adam. Since she wouldn’t lay beneath Adam and obey him, she chose to run wild through the forest, claiming her autonomy. You’re being called by the wind to run away with abandon with nothing but the breeze moving through your hair.

You’re known for being solid, and this means that it’s highly likely that someone has overstepped their boundaries with you, grabbing at the security they saw you could offer them. That burbling sense of annoyance or resentment you feel sometimes? That’s a very good indicator someone is making that grab. Lilith is calling you to come run wild and naked through the woods. Leave anyone who can’t take care of themselves without needing you to constantly comfort them.

Don’t think you have it in you to branch out on your own? You’ll see what you’re really made of on Wednesday May 8th. It’ll be like fireworks coming out of your mouth. This is definitely a time when you want to speak exactly what’s on your mind. This is the kind of energy you want to get out in front of and use it on others rather than have it be used on you.

Getting clear on your truth will come up again the next day on Thursday, May 9th. It’s time to talk about your passions, even if it’s just a very honest conversation you have with yourself. It might feel scary, but the Truth of your soul is your biggest priority. Especially during your birthday season when it’s time for new, invigorated beginnings.

All this speaking your Truth may lead you to stop believing an outlandish lie someone’s been telling you and passing as fact. On Saturday, May 11th you watch the foundation around this lie crack and crumble to the ground. With the fall of a false idol, your soul feels stronger, guided by passion, grounded in knowing.

Monday, May 13th asks how you can build creatively from this experience. You’re very in tune with the energy today. You’re recovering from the leap you took earlier this month in speaking your wants and needs. You may also be recovering from others not taking your newfound opinions very well. This is a nice day to create a piece of art around this experience, releasing old energy as you transfer it into the piece.

You bloom and open toward love the way a flower yearns for the Sun. Wednesday, May 15th Venus travels into your sign. You place your flower crown on to dance barefoot amongst the moss and ferns. During this time (until June 8th) love will be experienced in a very sensual way. Do you shiver when they touch you? It just very might well be love.

Mars also floats into Cancer on this day as well. Again, supercharging your ability to communicate. This will also give you extra psychic superpowers. Remember to get your point across you need to speak it, you can’t rely on telepathic communication.

On Thursday, May 16th you’ll definitely find the words to say what’s on your mind, or if you’ve been speaking up already, this is the day when your words manifest into a desired entity. Notice how this thing or person matches the frequency and tone of your words. It doesn’t only matter what you say, it matters how you say it.

The Moon beams coming down from the Scorpio Full Moon on Friday, May 17th are some for the ages. As a lover of music, you’ll see and appreciate the harmony in the atmosphere. This is about the sprouting of a long-anticipated project, perhaps a romance that blossoms into deep commitment.

It can also be the realization that something has come to its emotional end, and that you’re in a new space, even if the location you find yourself in doesn’t quite reflect that yet. Maybe you don’t always get around to doing a Full Moon releasing ritual, if there was a Full Moon to make some time for a ritual, this is the one. This time it’s destiny.

Taurus season begins to come to an end, as all things must, the following Tuesday, May 21st when both the Sun and Mercury travel into Gemini. You may feel a little uprooted, like you started out as a potted fern and you’ve suddenly been freed from your soil as an air plant. Conversations speed up and it feels like a general sense of confusion has resumed. This is why you did all your training during Taurus season. You’re clear on your values and this keeps you calm as a frenzy whips up around you. If you do find yourself stumbling at any given time, bring the conversation back to community. This is the common ground.

Expect the affects of you’re Full Moon releasing ritual to start popping up on Wednesday, May 22nd. Emotions may feel extreme, or that you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Know these are messages from your spirit guides. They’re trying to make something clear.

Continue with the strategy of using this releasing energy to get closer to what you desire. On Wednesday, May 29th you may find that speaking about your dream results in those you thought were friends leaving your life. They want a certain version of you, a version that doesn’t include your new pursuit. This can feel painful, but know that you may one day want to thank them for their ignorance as they’re creating a void space in your life that can be filled with the next person or experience bringing you to the next level of being.

Friday, May 31st will be a powerful day. Imagine an abandoned city covered with vines and branches, to the point you could no longer see the structures that once existed. The vines grow bigger and more tangled, they bloom. Where are you getting back to nature in your life? Where is a stark structure beginning to grow lush?

Alright, we’re in the dark of the Moon, the day before the New Moon in Gemini. Let’s reiterate the theme of how you’re pulling lots of punches this year, throwing lots of lightening bolts! The very last day of your Moon cycle, on Sunday, June 2nd is no exception. As a Taurus, you’re known for your beauty inside and out, and in this time of reflection you’re being encouraged to take this to the extra mile, to apply it in a way you never have before, to make a deal with your devils to make your life better, to continue on the journey of self-actualization.

Find more horoscopes in the Shop. Join the New Moon Social Club and receive your horoscope every month.

#Taurus Season #Taurus #Horoscopes

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ladylilithprime · 6 years

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61+Sabriel for the kiss prompts, please?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once again, Gabriel was gone in the morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They still got a little noisy.

AFTER THE SIXTH time, Sam stopped keeping count.

-End-

#kiss prompt drabbles #sabriel #sam winchester #gabriel #castiel #dean winchester #dean has the mark of cain #hurt!gabriel #sam winchester's powers #mentions of demon blood #sam is not florence nightingale #that damned voicemail #nonstandard medical procedures #otrera-kicks-ass

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