No One Would Riot For Less - Sabriel Minigbang Art post!
Art for my second Sabriel Minibang, No One Would Riot For Less, by narukyu. Please go read it, my art doesn't really do it any justice! It's 68,000 words of pure awesome, and I just could not capture that when my mind insisted on odd vignettes and weird angles. Also, charcoal, my old friend. How I did miss being covered in your dust.
I love the summary too much to not post it:
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, side of Dean/Cas; mentions past Sam/Jess, Dean/Lisa, Gabriel/Kali
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, spoilers, violence, language, sex, temporary character deaths, talk of torture, false ideals, blasphemy, apocalypse is nigh, a Trickster's idea of 'help', unreliable narrators, unhelpful time-lines, angst, selectively enforced amnesia, elements of dubious consent, 6X22, fix-it fic, etc.
Summary: Family reunions are a time of fun and good eating, or so Dean thinks. He plans on making this year's reunion the best one yet, and he even got Sam to stop bitching long enough to drive back home and help. Sure, Cas is acting a little weird-donning the old trench coat like a lame ass caped crusader-but there's nothing wrong between the two of them. Ever. So don't even start.
Sam, on the other hand, isn't feeling quite so content. He's dealing with a concussion or an out of body experience or something, because everything around him feels just wrong, from the tie around his neck to the shocking presence of Jess in his life. His confusion is only heightened by increasingly cryptic texts from a contact he's saved as 'Loki'--a contact that he doesn't remember making. Loki seems to hold all the answers, including the answer to one disturbing question Sam can't quite let go of--why does he think most of their family and friends should be long dead and buried?
Dean's belligerently happy. Sam's genuinely confused. But to everyone else, life is just perfect.
Maybe a little too perfect.
There was a text, just like she said. It was a contact he’d saved as ‘Loki’ and the damn thing didn’t make sense at all.
(The first image in the fic is one of Sam grounding himself with his cell. The conversation with Dean is a little hard to get in a single image, but the important part is the communication with Loki. How do I hands?)
It was the last picture on the mantle that really threw him.
Dean padded out behind him nearly silently. Sam turned to his brother, sort of awe-struck and shocked.
Dean raised his eyebrows at him.
“You’re married,” Sam blurted out. More than that, he realized. Married to Castiel. The proof was in the picture-two men in tuxedos standing in front of a priest.
What. The. Fuck.
Dean looked confused. He glanced down at his ring finger, as if to double check. “Yes…?” He seemed to be waiting for a punchline. When it didn’t come, he frowned. “Don’t tell me you forgot, best man.”
(Not the exact image from the fic, because there are no - well there should be no - blades anywhere in Dean's place, but Gabriel does like his little presents. Aww man, I didn't really do him justice, but I want more Pastor Jim - in anything. Completely unrelated, except that I'm sure the guy who married them was either Jim or one of the priests from "Houses of Holy".)
“I prayed for you,” he whispered thickly. “When you died.”
The expression that flickered over Gabriel’s face was complicated. His eyes rounded and his mouth softened. For a moment, he looked conflicted. Then something shuttered over it all, transforming his look of surprise to full on determination. He stood from his crouching position, idly flicking imaginary dust from his sleeve.
“I know,” Gabriel said with a nod. He was closing the distance between the two of them, one small step at a time. “I heard you. All the way down in Purgatory.” Once close enough, he curled his fingers in the sleeve of one of Sam's arms. His other hand pressed point of his weapon to Sam’s heart. He looked apologetic. “Sam. Are you ready?”
Sam cleared his throat and then closed his eyes-and then opened them again, because there was no way that was going to happen. “Get it over with,” he said tersely.
(One of the ones I tried funky perspective in. It, er, didn't work. I don't think? Still like it, regardless.)
Before Dean could make a promise, the door was opening behind them. Gabriel staggered out into the open air, looking pained. “We don’t have time to wait, kids,” he said, leaning on the door. “Castiel followed me here.”
Dean looked alarmed. “What?Now?” he sputtered. “We can't face him now!”
Gabriel shot Dean a look that said that the angel thought he was a particularly stupid child. “Uh, duh,” he said, making an exaggerated expression. Still looking completely miffed, he snapped his fingers.
Coolness of the ocean breeze suddenly drained from the air. The near constant rumble of the Pacific Coast Highway disappeared. The vague haze and smog that blurred the sky lifted, leaving behind an inky black sky lit up with stars.
Bobby stumbled oddly next to him. “Coulda gave a guy some warning,” he complained, flushing slightly. Dean grumbled his agreement, shooting a glare at the back of Gabriel's head.
Sam looked around, curious. They were in the desert, in the middle of a cracked, poorly maintained stretch of asphalt. It was a highway of some sort, but there were no signs identifying which one it was. There were no cars in sight. There were no buildings either-save for one.
In front of them, there was a barely paved road in the middle of the sand and dirt, and at the end of that road was a building-a house free and clear of the community of a neighborhood.
“Awesome,” Gabriel said faintly. “It’s still here.” He started walking. It was up that road that Gabriel went, so they followed.
(How do I shoes? Texture? Sam's pondering how to defend Gabe without being TOO defensive and making Dean and Bobby suspicious.)
Sam watched a lot of television in those two days of silence. The news went on and on about the 'freak gas explosion' in the middle of some college in Kansas. Soon enough, though, the accident was fighting for top coverage with an anomalous cloud formation that had formed in Colorado and shot out in all directions.
Sam sat down. Regardless of normal broadcasting schedules, nearly all of the local channels had the news on. Sam clicked through them quickly.
A frowning white man was reading from his notes. "Current reports put as many as fifty thousand missing and ten thousand confirmed dead-"
An Asian man was in mid sentence. "-Strange anomaly observed forty-eight hours ago over Colorado-" he was saying.
It was a parade of solemn faced officials offering everything from electrical clouds to dirt to radioactive materials as an explanation for the writhing, purple and black mass that flew by on the shaky camera footage.
The wood behind Sam's chair squawked warningly. Dazed, Sam looked up, realizing that he had company. Everyone else was in the room, propping themselves up or leaning on something to watch the news. Only Gabriel ever looked comfortable, but Sam didn't know how much of that was real and how much of it was just pure bravado.
A popular image of the cloud formation appeared on the screen again. From the angle it was shot at, you could almost see individual, elongated masses making up the bulk of the thing.
(I admit to this looking way cooler in my head. It's hard to capture a writhing mass of monster souls emanating death from above.)
"Let me finish." He swallowed, and then said, "People do dumb shit, and angels? As much as you guys like to be high and holy, you're no exception." Dean ducked his head, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "There's always... something you can do. To make up for it, I mean." Dean met Castiel's eyes meaningfully. "Even when you've done really epically dumb shit." And then, quieter, he said, "I should know." Even quieter, he admitted, "I'd like to trust you again."
Castiel stared at him with a wide eyed, doubting before he was huffing out a small laugh. "Where should I start?"
"Well." Dean pulled his hand away from Castiel's, surprised at how quickly he missed it. He threw on a jovial smile and retreated for a moment to fetch their drinks. "You can start by having a drink with me and telling me exactly how much damage control me and Sam are gonna have to do over this Crowley bullshit."
(I wanted to get a little more of Dean and Cas' relationship in here, since that's what this story really hinges on. Well, what the trickster thinks it hinges on, but that you're gonna have to read about!)
I love the summary too much to not post it:
Pairing: Sam/Gabriel, side of Dean/Cas; mentions past Sam/Jess, Dean/Lisa, Gabriel/Kali
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, spoilers, violence, language, sex, temporary character deaths, talk of torture, false ideals, blasphemy, apocalypse is nigh, a Trickster's idea of 'help', unreliable narrators, unhelpful time-lines, angst, selectively enforced amnesia, elements of dubious consent, 6X22, fix-it fic, etc.
Summary: Family reunions are a time of fun and good eating, or so Dean thinks. He plans on making this year's reunion the best one yet, and he even got Sam to stop bitching long enough to drive back home and help. Sure, Cas is acting a little weird-donning the old trench coat like a lame ass caped crusader-but there's nothing wrong between the two of them. Ever. So don't even start.
Sam, on the other hand, isn't feeling quite so content. He's dealing with a concussion or an out of body experience or something, because everything around him feels just wrong, from the tie around his neck to the shocking presence of Jess in his life. His confusion is only heightened by increasingly cryptic texts from a contact he's saved as 'Loki'--a contact that he doesn't remember making. Loki seems to hold all the answers, including the answer to one disturbing question Sam can't quite let go of--why does he think most of their family and friends should be long dead and buried?
Dean's belligerently happy. Sam's genuinely confused. But to everyone else, life is just perfect.
Maybe a little too perfect.
There was a text, just like she said. It was a contact he’d saved as ‘Loki’ and the damn thing didn’t make sense at all.
(The first image in the fic is one of Sam grounding himself with his cell. The conversation with Dean is a little hard to get in a single image, but the important part is the communication with Loki. How do I hands?)
It was the last picture on the mantle that really threw him.
Dean padded out behind him nearly silently. Sam turned to his brother, sort of awe-struck and shocked.
Dean raised his eyebrows at him.
“You’re married,” Sam blurted out. More than that, he realized. Married to Castiel. The proof was in the picture-two men in tuxedos standing in front of a priest.
What. The. Fuck.
Dean looked confused. He glanced down at his ring finger, as if to double check. “Yes…?” He seemed to be waiting for a punchline. When it didn’t come, he frowned. “Don’t tell me you forgot, best man.”
(Not the exact image from the fic, because there are no - well there should be no - blades anywhere in Dean's place, but Gabriel does like his little presents. Aww man, I didn't really do him justice, but I want more Pastor Jim - in anything. Completely unrelated, except that I'm sure the guy who married them was either Jim or one of the priests from "Houses of Holy".)
“I prayed for you,” he whispered thickly. “When you died.”
The expression that flickered over Gabriel’s face was complicated. His eyes rounded and his mouth softened. For a moment, he looked conflicted. Then something shuttered over it all, transforming his look of surprise to full on determination. He stood from his crouching position, idly flicking imaginary dust from his sleeve.
“I know,” Gabriel said with a nod. He was closing the distance between the two of them, one small step at a time. “I heard you. All the way down in Purgatory.” Once close enough, he curled his fingers in the sleeve of one of Sam's arms. His other hand pressed point of his weapon to Sam’s heart. He looked apologetic. “Sam. Are you ready?”
Sam cleared his throat and then closed his eyes-and then opened them again, because there was no way that was going to happen. “Get it over with,” he said tersely.
(One of the ones I tried funky perspective in. It, er, didn't work. I don't think? Still like it, regardless.)
Before Dean could make a promise, the door was opening behind them. Gabriel staggered out into the open air, looking pained. “We don’t have time to wait, kids,” he said, leaning on the door. “Castiel followed me here.”
Dean looked alarmed. “What?Now?” he sputtered. “We can't face him now!”
Gabriel shot Dean a look that said that the angel thought he was a particularly stupid child. “Uh, duh,” he said, making an exaggerated expression. Still looking completely miffed, he snapped his fingers.
Coolness of the ocean breeze suddenly drained from the air. The near constant rumble of the Pacific Coast Highway disappeared. The vague haze and smog that blurred the sky lifted, leaving behind an inky black sky lit up with stars.
Bobby stumbled oddly next to him. “Coulda gave a guy some warning,” he complained, flushing slightly. Dean grumbled his agreement, shooting a glare at the back of Gabriel's head.
Sam looked around, curious. They were in the desert, in the middle of a cracked, poorly maintained stretch of asphalt. It was a highway of some sort, but there were no signs identifying which one it was. There were no cars in sight. There were no buildings either-save for one.
In front of them, there was a barely paved road in the middle of the sand and dirt, and at the end of that road was a building-a house free and clear of the community of a neighborhood.
“Awesome,” Gabriel said faintly. “It’s still here.” He started walking. It was up that road that Gabriel went, so they followed.
(How do I shoes? Texture? Sam's pondering how to defend Gabe without being TOO defensive and making Dean and Bobby suspicious.)
Sam watched a lot of television in those two days of silence. The news went on and on about the 'freak gas explosion' in the middle of some college in Kansas. Soon enough, though, the accident was fighting for top coverage with an anomalous cloud formation that had formed in Colorado and shot out in all directions.
Sam sat down. Regardless of normal broadcasting schedules, nearly all of the local channels had the news on. Sam clicked through them quickly.
A frowning white man was reading from his notes. "Current reports put as many as fifty thousand missing and ten thousand confirmed dead-"
An Asian man was in mid sentence. "-Strange anomaly observed forty-eight hours ago over Colorado-" he was saying.
It was a parade of solemn faced officials offering everything from electrical clouds to dirt to radioactive materials as an explanation for the writhing, purple and black mass that flew by on the shaky camera footage.
The wood behind Sam's chair squawked warningly. Dazed, Sam looked up, realizing that he had company. Everyone else was in the room, propping themselves up or leaning on something to watch the news. Only Gabriel ever looked comfortable, but Sam didn't know how much of that was real and how much of it was just pure bravado.
A popular image of the cloud formation appeared on the screen again. From the angle it was shot at, you could almost see individual, elongated masses making up the bulk of the thing.
(I admit to this looking way cooler in my head. It's hard to capture a writhing mass of monster souls emanating death from above.)
"Let me finish." He swallowed, and then said, "People do dumb shit, and angels? As much as you guys like to be high and holy, you're no exception." Dean ducked his head, avoiding Castiel's eyes. "There's always... something you can do. To make up for it, I mean." Dean met Castiel's eyes meaningfully. "Even when you've done really epically dumb shit." And then, quieter, he said, "I should know." Even quieter, he admitted, "I'd like to trust you again."
Castiel stared at him with a wide eyed, doubting before he was huffing out a small laugh. "Where should I start?"
"Well." Dean pulled his hand away from Castiel's, surprised at how quickly he missed it. He threw on a jovial smile and retreated for a moment to fetch their drinks. "You can start by having a drink with me and telling me exactly how much damage control me and Sam are gonna have to do over this Crowley bullshit."
(I wanted to get a little more of Dean and Cas' relationship in here, since that's what this story really hinges on. Well, what the trickster thinks it hinges on, but that you're gonna have to read about!)