shippingsock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2014-01-25 06:40 pm
shippingsock) wrote in bakerstreet2014-01-25 06:40 pm
(no subject)
the shipping picture prompt meme
SIMILAR TO THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME & THE SMUT PICTURE PROMPT MEME ONLY FOR SHIPPING.
i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.
Link to an image: | Embed an image in your reply: | You can control width and height of your pictures: |
Gabriel } Supernatural } ota
don't even bother to try and make this shippy; this is just an excuse to tag you ♥
no subject
It's even easier when the angel in question wasn't really gone. Almost — that stab through the chest had dispersed him, flung his Grace to the edge of the cosmos and back. But Gabriel has spent long enough in Vegas to know a thing or two about gambling, and walking into a room with one of his brothers had been a hefty wager. He'd made preparations, while Lucifer had been distracted by his family. Former family. Gabriel had placed some of himself in an artifact of power, underneath the noses of the Winchesters. The silver trinket, an ornate locket, doesn't look like much to most people. But its storage properties are legendary, if you're in the know.
And it seems a certain Knight of Hell is in the know, because Gabriel finds himself wheezing, wings smoking slightly, in front of her. It's jarring. He has to take a moment to collect himself and reach out with his newly reformed Grace, to sense what year it is and where the hell he is.
Then he gives the smirking redhead a nod, because like he's going to pass up a chance to flirt with a lady. Even if the lady is—]
Abaddon.
Long time, no see.
no subject
[ she glances at the silver trinket in her hand, then at the angel before her. resurrecting gabriel in itself is a gamble. abaddon's not much of a gambler; she's not a fan of vegas, of what happens in the city staying in the city. it's smokey and hot and the lights are too bright — and it's almost too easy to take advantage of the poor, despicable humans that populate it. she thinks that's why gabriel lingers, calling it his kingdom; he's the grand poker player, after all. hadn't he had them all fooled that he was done and dusted? ]
[ but she stands tall, not wanting to give a lick of anything away. though, she imagines gabriel will come to his own conclusions, whether true or false, of the motivations as to why she's here. he's a great piece on the chess board, a formidable player, if one that sometimes bets on the wrong horses. gabriel's tricks had never given him the reputation of being a survivor. hadn't he always placed his hand in the lion's cage, taunting it to bite? ]
Humour me — [ she says it with a slow curving smile of her red lips ] — who was it that finally bested the best fool in town? [ she does know if he says crowley that she'll scream his brightly lit kingdom to shambles. what's the use of reconstructing an archangel from ash if he had been bested by the joke of a king? ]
no subject
[Gabriel bites back a comment about her true face — because he can look past it to see the pretty thing she's possessing. She keeps talking, and he keeps listening. He feels ragged, stretched, stinging. Like new skin over a wound.
Best fool's still a fool, he thinks.]
What, you really don't know?
[He's almost insulted. Had no details of his death gotten out at all? Does anyone know? Had he made his sacrifice in total vain? Now that's the most insulting thing of all, and it distracts him away from Abaddon's words and to the curve of her smile.]
I'm afraid it was your boss. Or the boss of your boss, if you get my drift. Think I can still taste metal. [Gabriel's own smile is dour.] Who did you think it was? Demons don't have access to the right weapons, sweetheart.