outofshadows | Shipping Meme

Entry tags:

!meme

Shipping Meme

Welcome to the ToS Shipping Meme! The rules are simple.

1. Post your character/preferences.
2. Reply to other characters with one of the following scenarios
3. Ship it!

Remember, this is just a fun meme so you can ship things that would NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY in game. Yay for no in-character consequences to bad decisions.

SCENARIOS
1. Stupid Cupid Your characters stumble upon a room in the temple that is dedicated to Berkano, which is the rune of love and new beginnings. Think Midsummer Night's Dream. Your characters may be close friends, strangers, or sworn enemies. Whatever the case is, they are now suddenly and inexplicably in complete and total love. They may or may not be aware that this makes no sense, but they can't help themselves.

2. Some Like It Hot Forget love and new beginnings. Your characters have ACTUALLY stumbled upon a room in the temple that is dedicated to Kenaz, the rune of fire, passion, and sex. There's no stopping you, even if you tried. Luckily, the room is prepared for that, and comes equipped with a bed. Whether or not you guys make it that far across the room is another question.

3. I Can Hear The Bells Your characters are getting married. Maybe it's true love, maybe it's to get out of marrying Tristan, maybe you're being forced into it and this ship is a little dub-con, or maybe it's because you accidentally participated in some Nysgod ritual and weren't aware of its implications. Either way, the wedding is about to happen or just has. How do you feel about that?

4. I Don't Want To Go Your character has been determined to NOT be the one for Tristan. Whether or not they like it, they're being sent home. Do they choose to spend it with a close friend, with the one they love? Or maybe, do they decide to finally tell that person they've always had a crush on just how they feel? You only have one night left, what you do with it is up to you.

5. The First Time Your characters are interested in each other and it's time to do something about it. Either the first date, the first kiss, the first I love you....or some other significant first. Whatever it is, it's definitely time to take that step. So who's going to take the initiative?

6. The Morning After Your characters definitely went at it. Maybe it's the first time, maybe they're cheating on someone, maybe it was out of anger. Whatever the case, for some reason, it was significant and you're going to have to talk about it. Good morning, Starshine! The earth says it's time for some cuddling and/or awkward conversation.

7. Potpourri Have another idea? Pregnancy, proposal, accidental body contact, trapped together, caught in the rain, hurt/comfort, etc? Go for it! Make your own scenarios up and run with them.

NOTE: Feel free to throw any mirrors into play if you're interested!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A wizard is never late, &c &c >:E]

Angel paced nervously outside the chapel doors. The wedding was in an hour and his groom was no where to be found. Angel nervously tugged at the cuffs of his tux shirt and he kept looking for a clock to tell him that it was time to get this all over with. The walls were less then helpful.

Don't worry about the groom (how does that work, exactly, anyway? can't be a bridegroom if there's no bride; must be a groomgroom, but that's awkward). He's taking his sweet time tying his tie, fixing his shoelaces, mixing wine and blood, and drawing arcane magic circles on the mirror in charcoal (a dab of it mixed with honey under his tongue too) just to make sure that nothing that might go, ceremonially speaking, would truly be binding. Breaking promises before they're made. Nothing new here.

He paused a moment, in the midst of the second outer ring of aforementioned circles and looked aside, thinking of how exactly the hell he'd gotten himself in this situation in the first place.

Really, this was kind of A New One.

Not that he hadn't been married before, but it usually wasn't... Well, wasn't this all so modern and open-minded and progressive.

It could be a smart match, for as long as it lasted.

He set the circle with the blood-in-wine and drank the rest of the cup (could've used another cup or two--no he was not nervous, fuck you very much).

All right, no use delaying the inevitable. They'd come looking for him sooner or later. Shoes were shiny, cuffs were straight, tie was straight, coattails...flapping, no charcoal on his teeth, even some flowers in his lapel (aww, a red rose, how thoughtful, how thoughtful).

Actually, if one asked him, he thought he looked damn well in this face when he was dressed. And he grinned at his reflection.

All right, all right--he trotted off to the chapel. But not so far as the door itself, though he'd caught a glimpse of the other pacing there (like to wear a hole in the floor, really, and certainly going to end up with wilted cuffs if he kept rubbing on them). He stopped short and tucked himself behind the corner of the last doorframe, just out of sight, and he called from his hiding-place:

"Is it still bad luck to see each other before the ceremony?"

Gag. What a line.

Angel's damn near a boy-scout compared to Flagg it would seem. He's just as unsure about how they'd gotten wrangled into it, but it was done and they didn't have a choice anymore.

Like it or not, Angel would stay with Flagg and honor his vows as best he could. He took his word seriously and while he still debates on God, he's a creature of ceremony.

The pacing stops as Angel looks in his direction. "Luck left me a long time ago. I don't think it matters." Very unsure how he felt about this.

He stepped out from behind the corner now, hands in his pockets, acting casual (like this was someone else's wedding and not his own and they two were only witnesses to it), blinking big blue guileless long-lashed farmboy eyes.

"Well, it's traditional. I thought I'd ask."

He paused, tried to look shy and/or impressed.

"You look...nice."

He could still taste blood and wine and charcoal in his mouth. It was a little distracting.

Angel smiled nervously. Those damned blue eyes. That color seems to get him in trouble a lot. His forefinger and thumb restart their languid assault on his cuffs. When he finally gets around to noticing the rest of Rory, he nods, though he's not sure at what. Rory cut a nice figure in a suit, Angel couldn't deny.

"You too...Are we really going through with this?"

A nervous laugh (nicely acted, if he did say so himself) and a shrug.

"I...think we sort of have to. Don't get me wrong--my feet are like blocks of ice right now, they're so cold, okay?"

"Yeah." Angel looks away, back to searching the walls for a clock, an irritated scowl creeping onto his face as he eyes the chapel doors restlessly. "It's taking them long enough." He's eager to get the worst part over.

As if on cue, the chapel doors are opened by a beautiful cherub faced Nysgod woman with a bright smile, white flowers braided into her light hair. She gestures for them both to come and stands to the side.

The chapel itself is small, you could go as far to call it quaint and picturesque with its two rows of white pews, each ribboned to the next with large bows. In the heart of each bow sat a small half sphere crystal, spanning the color of Maerlyn's Rainbow, faintly glowing with an energy that Rory may or may not recognize. With the exception of black. That was the cross at the alter, propped up behind the priest, glowing faintly in time with the others. The Temple must be decorating from a mix of the men's worlds. The priest himself wore the standard white collar of God, of their earth.. Well, maybe Angel's earth. His hands were folded patiently as he waited for the ~~victims~~ couple to walk up the aisle.

Angel takes a deep breath and glances over at Rory before starting through the doors. If Rory follows, Angel will match his step.

How cute, how charming, how familiar--even if it did feel like the Nysgods were biting his style, making wedding decorations out of the Rainbow (boo, Nysgods, boo). Although, no...it was pretty entertaining and he tried to make the laughter that escaped sound nervous more than painfully amused (which was the real truth).

He was pretty sure nothing would burst into flames upon his setting foot in this little chapel. Pretty sure, at least.

Anyway--he answers that glance with the smallest of brave and reassuring smiles and reaches out to take Angel's hand (please don't mind how cold his fingers might feel).

Angel's dead which means he's room temperature all of the time and the cold from Rory's fingers feel like his own. Hand in hand, the pair walk up the aisle until they reach the Alter. His eyes wouldn't tear away from the large black cross and he was momentarily afraid that he'd burst into flames too.

The Father's words became nothing more then a buzz in the back of Angel's ears and when it comes time for the I do's, Angel manages to be focused enough to let the words tumble from his mouth.

Angel's groom, meanwhile, is giggling. No other way to describe it, certainly no way to hide it. He's giggling--quietly, but still giggling. Not bothering to make it look like nervous trembling or tears, not trying to hide it, not even caring if the priest hears him.

It was just so damn funny.

Oh, the best of all things: marry a near stranger, disregard that having been done, but neatly sidestep the whole ordeal of marrying/not marrying the prince because of already being taken, then carry on as one pleases.

And yet they'd done so much to decorate the little chapel. It was cute. It was charming. It was like they expected him to take it seriously. Aww.

Oh, wait. He was supposed to say "I do" too, right? He managed to tamp down the laughter long enough to say that with the gravity it required.

He'd liked his first wedding better, to be quite honest.

Doyle had come across a wonderful little bottle. God knows what it was but it was hot pink and full of sparkles and smelled like something a beautiful woman would wear. And a bit too much like Alice In Wonderland it had a little label that said 'Drink me' Who was he to disobey the all knowing bottle?

With all the charm of a man who had just huffed paint thinner he stumbled from the room the bottle dropping too the floor and shattering as he made his way down the hall. The first person he came across was Rory. A stupid grin went acorss his face as he stepped up into the other man's personal space, smelling oddly of way too pure vanilla and wrapped his arms around the mans shoulders.

"Marry me!"

Entirely too much vanilla and entirely too close and entirely asking--no, demanding marriage.

Clearly, this was not typical behavior. Perhaps these observations should be noted for future reference.

"Heavens," he said, and he actually managed to play it deadpan. "Doyle, This is all so sudden."

The vanilla was powerful enough to overpower his own natural slightly spicy scent that the vampires all seem to pick up. The blue eyes were almost too wide, and void of anything but adoration.

"Why tempt a perfect thin'." He spoke in the same almost dreamy tone, his arms staying around Flagg. "We could find a god and get it done right now."

Gently, carefully, he put his arms around this newly-confessed paramour and sniffed him--as delicately and subtly as possible. No, things were not typical at present. Generally shotgunning an entire bottle of vanilla extract did not result in such behavior. So something just smelled of vanilla. Another sniff. And probably magic too.

Well. No harm in having a little fun while it lasted.

He caught Doyle around the waist with one arm and stroked his face (ever so gently, a lover's caress) with his other hand.

"But if you love me, and if I love you, and we love one another, what need have we for a wedding? We need only one another, don't we? Doesn't that make us complete enough?"

He'd save some of the really heavy lines for a little later--'Oh moon of my heart's sky' and all of that.

Doyle in his right mind would never throw his arms around another man and demand marriage but he was clearly far from right mind, the vanilla at least smelled much better then the scotch and smoke he normally smelled like.

He closed his blue eyes at the caress letting his head tip back a bit in the embrace.

"Because, I feel it, its callin' to me. We gotta do it Rory." The name was practically purred. He was very much gone. Opening his eyes once more he looked to the man like he was the purest form of salvation. "A union to save us from Tristan."

If Rory Fletcher (and his many aliases) were the purest form of salvation, one must wonder, indeed, if salvation is worth it. No, no salvation here.

"Darling boy, do you think it would work? Would he leave us in peace if we married one another? Or would our vows be meaningless to him when he decides one one of us for himself?"

One really had to worry about that, if salvation was with Rory in any form maybe damnation had more to offer, however salvation always who was under the enchantment. Redemption was his desire.

"It has to. Love conquerors all. You're not like the others you wont let me fall." He spoke the tone oh so sure but still the lights were on but no one was home. "Vows are never meaningless. All words have magic."

"What if I fall?"
"Sooner or later, we all do."

"But you are right, dearheart: all words have magic. Even the words you're saying right now. So tell me you love me. Let's see if there's magic there too."

The fear of falling was a strong one.

The words from Rory seemed to make him relax more in the others hold his arms still around Rory. The bottle he'd chugged was clearly aimed to enchant a woman but he had found it instead. "Then we'll test the magic." He replied low, accent heavy with what was buzzing in his bloodstream. "I love you."

Well, Doyle. You are clearly good and gone on whatever you've gotten yourself into. Well done. Well done, indeed.

He made himself shiver as if delighted, let his eyes fall closed.

"You're right. You're so right. Words do have magic. And that magic is strong."

He brought their foreheads together, breathing quietly, not quite leaning for a kiss.

"I love you too. Yes. I'll marry you."

He said, although he almost had to bite his own tongue to keep from laughing.

Damn right it was, if the scent of vanilla wasn't warning enough that something along. Saying he loved and wanted to marry anyone much less a guy he barely knows should show that.

Though Rory's words were like magic to his ears. Likely the magic flowing through him. The half-demons blue eyes looked up into the others as if lost in them.

"Thank you Rory. I won't let you down." he muttered like a devoted cult member or something, his brogue drawn out like he was drunk though not a trace of liquor smell was on him just the annoying scent of the vanilla. EVen if he had laughed Doyle was too gone to notice.

"Tell me one thing, though. Would you do that? Would you do this one thing for me?"

They were still close, still forehead to forehead, eye to eye, still in a lovers' embrace.

"Would you even give your life for me? I won't ask it of you, but would you say that? Would you make that promise to me? Say 'my life for you'."

"Anything for you." he muttered low.

And the spellbound one was completely taken by the closeness. The magic was strong and he feels for it all.

"O' course I would." He spoke as he looked intently into Flaggs eyes. "I would give my life for you, I would die so that you could live, and happily so."

He smiled, so gently, so lovingly (or so it seemed, at least), and softly stroked the boy's face.

"I know you would. I know you would."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Shipping Meme

R[andall] F[lagg] || The Dark Tower (et al.) || OTA

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HA HA HA HA HA I need a moment |D

He's publicly known as... Fletcher, right?

Yeah, he's operating under the name Rory Fletcher for now

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Hey, you get a laugh! 1 with a bit of 7's proposal.

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