would you ever agree to selling your d&d characters to a television or movie producer?
Maybe, if I still got like, creative direction or whatever. I want to make SURE they don’t mess Aria or Beau up.
Y’all can still ask about the two! I’ll also link a couple of her solo sessions to my blog. There’s a really lovable bit with Dragon’s NPC, Tel. The solo sessions are pretty much one-offs so you can listen to them without being lost!
...That isn’t a pairing, or a prompt that makes much sense in context, but you know what? I can work with this.
Put a number and a character/pairing in my ask box and I’ll write a short fic!
It was the springtime. The mid-morning sun shone beautifully down on the grassy hilltop, illuminating all the subtle differences in the greenery that would fade into a single shade by afternoon. The sound of birdsong intermittently cut through the whistle of the pleasant breeze, and small yellow flowers dotted the downward slope ahead, catching the light and the eyes.
Well, the eye. While one eye was taking in the surroundings, another was downcast, looking into its clasped hands.
"YOU KNOW, I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR A LONG TIME, BUT I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER SPENT TIME WITH YOU LIKE THIS BEFORE,” Bill Cipher began.
“I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT,” returned the nasally, lyrical voice of Bill Cipher. Bill Cipher looked up from his hands and across the picnic blanket to see Bill Cipher sitting there, staring back at him.
“WE SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS EONS AGO. WE’RE WAY BETTER COMPANY THAN THAT GANG OF EXTRA-PLANAR NINCOMPOOPS. THEY WOULDN’T KNOW THE BLOOD OF BABY SEALS FROM SOME CENTURY-OLD GRAPE JUICE.”
Bill Cipher couldn’t help but agree, materializing a glass of something bubbly and golden in an outstretched hand and idly swirling it around. “ABSOLUTELY! WE NEVER SHOULD’VE TAKEN THEM CLUBBING THAT TIME. OR ANY TIME. WE WERE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, AND THE DEATH OF THOUSANDS. POTENTIALLY BILLIONS, IF THOSE YAHOOS HADN’T BEEN OUTDONE BY SOME IDENTICAL FLESHBAGS!”
The other Bill’s triangular form tilted backwards. “WELL, WHATEVER VALUE THERE IS IN MEAT, IT’S FOUND IN SYMMETRY.”
Bill’s eye narrowed. “WE WERE MADE OF MEAT, FOR A TIME, AND WERE VERY SYMMETRICAL! QUADRILATERALLY SYMMETRICAL, IN FACT.”
“THERE WAS STILL ONLY ONE OF US. KEYHOLE, EIGHT-BALL, HECTORGON -- WHOLLY UNORIGINAL AND UNRELIABLE BRANDS OF CHAOS. THIS IS BETTER.” Bill turned his eye upwards, towards the chirping yellow birds flying past.
“AT LEAST AESTHETICALLY,” admitted Bill, admiring the uncanny rotating motion of the birds’ triangular wings.
“TRUST ME, IT TASTES EVEN BETTER THAN IT LOOKS,” replied Bill as he threw back a gulp of gold drink, its eye-bubbles popping as they trickled into his newly-spawned mouth.
“I’M SURE IT’S AS DELICIOUS AS I CAN IMAGINE,” Bill told himself, looking up past the hillside, past the three-sided yellow flowers and the empty sky and into the triangular sun.
It was the springtime. It was any time. It was whatever time he wanted it to be. It was no time at all, and it would stay no time for many summers to come.
fic prompt 11, Colton and anyone you'll ship her with ;)
Send me a pairing and a prompt for Valentines’ day and I’ll write a short fic!
The warm Correlian brandy splashes against the back of her throat, the prickling sensation of alcohol entering her bloodstream hitting her like a strong right cross with a fruity aftertaste. Whoa. Maybe the triple shot was a little much.
She shakes her head as if to clear it, though that doesn’t do much good. Well, no sense in doing anything halfway. She smiles, reaching for the bottle. “Thanks, bartender.” The empty bar says nothing back.
Well, that won’t do. A few taps on her new commlink and a holonet display thrums to life, flickering blue lines weaving together into a literal parade of colors. “Bringing you all the gorgeous coverage of the Atria’s Day Parade on Hosnian Prime--”
Ouch. If the triple shot was a right cross, that was a haymaker -- an unpleasantly sobering one, too. How many Atria’s Days have I missed? Twenty seven, no, twenty six if I died--I mean, fell into the carbonite--and didn’t they used to hold that on Corusc--
“First time seeing the parade at the new capital?” Oshaarna’s there now, on her right. When did she get there?
Colton turns her head to the now half-empty bottle of brandy. Oh, she thinks. When did that happen? She turns back to Oshaarna. Oh no she’s looking at me. First Atria’s Day in nearly three decades and she’s looking at me and why did I think getting this drunk was a good idea.
“You should try some of this,” Colton manages.
“Oh yeah, Dad always liked having a bar on his ships if the budget allowed for it. Said he picked it up on this civilian vessel back before Hoth...”
Colton lets Oshaarna continue -- she’s genuinely too drunk to shoot from the hip like she usually does, but just listening to Oshaarna talk for a few hours ends up being a lot nicer than the parade or the brandy.
It’s not her normal, per se, but at least it’s someone’s. And for once in her life, Colton really appreciates normal.
domestic ask: your favorite version of superman and lois
aaaaah thanks!!
clark’s more of a morning person -- comes from living on a farm. lois will only get out of bed before 10 on days she has work, and is a grumpy pile of bedhead.
Lois edits Clark's work when he’s sleeping. it’s 95% brutally honest snark and 5% just circling things and drawing a heart next to them in red ink
she still gives Clark shit for typing on a typewriter, but she loves hearing the sound of his fingers at the keys from the other room when she wakes up.
he said he brought the typewriter from the farm, and that’s possibly true. He used to type on a typewriter to train himself to be slow, precise, and not break the keys on expensive computers by getting excited and having super strength. However, he brought it to work at the Daily Planet specifically because he knew Lois would think it was fucking ridiculous, and it’d drive her crazy
Clark’s the cook, Lois literally only ever ordered takeout and ate cereal before he moved in.
once, Lois tried to make Clark breakfast in bed -- she even got up early for it! However, he ended up rushing into the kitchen because his super-smell (let’s say that’s still a thing) told him the apartment was on fire.
before they decided to make it official, Clark would use superspeed to get to the Daily Planet before Lois and make it look like he had come from his apartment.
once he forgot his glasses at Lois's place, and had to play it off when everyone assumed Superman had shown up
Lois and Bruce/Batman are in a competition to figure out how Clark’s glasses work so well as a disguise. Clark has offered to tell them, many times, but by now it’s a point of pride for both of them.
Clark never actually learned how to tie a tie (I mean, what’s the point when his secret identity is supposed to look like a bit of a bumpkin). When they got together, Lois had him step it up a bit -- he knows how to tie a tie now, but she always straightens it before heading out.
Lois still thinks Clark using his powers to shave is painfully stupid, but doesn’t have any solution so she just sulks about it. (Clark thinks its cute.)
After watching Aladdin one movie night, Clark showed up floating at her balcony one evening, singing A Whole New World. She gave him shit the whole time he was flying her around, but they both loved every second of it.
They hosted one dinner party for the League. One. Everyone agrees Guy Gardner shouldn’t have been invited -- even Guy Gardner. Also, Barry brought five 12-packs of beer and went through ten. By the end of the night, he’d made a pyramid of empty Coors cans in the corner of the room.
Lois thinks it was worth it, though, because she has video evidence of Batman as a very hug-prone drunk.
Whenever Clark shows up too badly beaten to stay awake, let alone meet a deadline, Lois pulls an all-nighter finishing his articles. She doesn’t even put her name on the byline.
Well, she doesn’t always put her name on the byline.