The faint, distressed high-pitched sound only just reaches his ears, even as preternaturally sensitive as they are, but it does register. Just. The whistle cuts out abruptly as Sam stops, frowning curiously, black eyes darting around.

“My singing wasn’t that bad…”

The plea sounds again, a little louder- loud enough for him to catch the ( Read more... )

It doesn’t take Sam very long at all, when he crashes through the door from Milliways into his flat, to realise just how spectacularly he’s fucked up. What had happened before was nothing at all compared to it.

It takes maybe five minutes to realise that he urgently needs to apologise. Repeatedly, and in detail.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he ( Read more... )

Crossposted to my LJ, bethan_b_bad. Originally stolen from the lovely quinbyFive things meme! Give me a title, a fandom, and a character or pairing ( Read more... )

“Remind me again why we’re here?” Sam asked plaintively. He and Buddha were walking down a chic Paris street, and he wasn’t sure whether his half-hearted attempt to tidy himself up, or the fact that Buddha was still wearing his old t-shirt and jeans and going barefoot, was attracting more scorn from the unbelievably fashionable residents. Not that ( Read more... )

“Who do you serve?”It had taken time, and scrying, and far too much Waywalking for Sam’s liking, but eventually he had tracked the last firedancer down to this small, seedy little flat in the dusty, baking heat of a midsummer Madrid suburb. Now magic - assisted by Sam’s knee to his groin- pin the assassin to a grubby wall, one of the immortal’s ( Read more... )

It seems to Sam a very long time before he feels himself again and the vicious lights stop dancing in his black eyes, but in fact it’s no more than an hour or two until he levers himself upright, gagging at the… whatever it was his mortal intruders stained his carpet with, and which he managed to fall in. Scowling, he hauls his jumper and shirt off ( Read more... )

Sam's small London flat usually looks like a bomb's hit it, but in a comfortable, cosy kind of way.

This is neither comfortable, nor cosy.

Sofa and chairs are over-turned, their stuffing ripped out; the TV is not much more than a smashed, smoking pile of scrap metal; food is everywhere and there's a very disagreeable-looking (and smelling) stain ( Read more... )

They arrive in a small, dusty back-alley in central Bangkok. It is deserted and thus the first thing that meets them is the heat: harsh and bone-searingly dry, until Sam’s magic calls tiny breezes around them, keeping them cool. Though the alleyway is deserted, the buzz of people close by is loud in their ears, and at the entrance to the alleyway a ( Read more... )

I escaped from the Dungeon of Necessary Child!

I killed Othercaptjack the goblin, Whats Bad Wolf the giant spider and Twoeyesonthesky the leprechaun.

I looted the Armour of History, the Sword of Waywalkers, the Armour of Mythology, the Dagger of Cats, the Wand of Miracles, the Dagger of Timekeepers, the Armour of Catherine Webb and 38 gold pieces.

( Read more... )

A scry, so Sam's often said, is not so much deep and mysterious magic as it is like a TV. A TV that occasionally needs hitting to make it work- though if you're determined to be academic about it, refer to it as 'percussive maintenance' if you must. Though this is likely to make Sam refer to you as, at kindest, a pretentious twit ( Read more... )