#The Duality of Man/Sam

[whysamwhy123]

Ugh. I’m struggling to make any real progress on my various WIPs and I’m pretty pissed off about it. So, I’m gonna do The Thing again. Send me a word and if it pops up in any of the monstrosities I’m currently trying to get off the ground, I’ll post a snippet here and maybe that’ll help me get the creative juices flowing again?? *shrugs*

[deathdefyinggarlic]

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Something that I don't think gets talked about enough:

The fact that Ruin is good with kids

Yeah, it kinda comes with the territory of being a daycare attendant, but still. Before he got his current body and was still broken, while pretending to be cured, he was in the daycare’s ballpit as the resident "ballpit shark." He was entertaining the kids and playing with them, and despite how he looked, the kids would've had to like him a decent amount, since he was never asked to leave the daycare at any point during that window of time

I read something before about how, in Ruin's dimension, there's a chance that he (as a carrier of the virus and not someone who was affected by it) may or may not have had to go against his childcare programming and kill kids to blend in with the affected glamrocks, so they wouldn't get suspicious and try to dismantle him or anything

The bit about what he did in his dimension is just a thought that someone had that really stuck with me, and I don't remember who came up with it, unfortunately, but it's still at least relatively legit that despite whatever he had to do or go through in the past, it doesn't affect him anymore, and he's still someone the kids liked being around

Which. Considering some of the things he's said and done, is pretty cool to me

[devilat-thedoor]

sweetest darling boy but also prettiest princess angel.

[completelymindfucked]

[thefalling-sky]

No because there’s no way this is the same guy

[joshsindigostreak]

This is the same person.

[tappedthedavidsassonce]

One of my toxic traits is not only fully believing Sam Winchester has suffered more than Jesus Christo himself, but also Sam Winchester has suffered enough.

An example, his birth flower being lily of the valley.. WHY! It’s pretty but poisonous, are you trying to tell me that not only was he demon blood poisoned but his birth flower is literally poisonous on the inside as well? HAS HE NOT. SUFFERED. ENOUGH?? CAN HE NOT GO ONE DAY WITHOUT BEING REMINDED—

[pollutionbylimpbizkit]

[ranger-crisis]

Orin and her ridiculous brother

[bottomvalerius]

Donna “Oh wow, your hands are so big, can I compare them to mine?” Ortega

[mercsandmonsters]

Tag Dump #3: Male Muses

Let's get these guys tagged.

[theglamorousferal]

Things I want in one fic:

Redeemed Vlad, Good Fenton Parents, Fentons/Vlad polycule

Liminal Amity Park

Redeemed Dark Danny, weird cousin?

Ellie as part of the family, sorta step sibling?

Defect quartet

The Class as a team deferring to Team Phantom

Jazz is Big Sister

Amity Park knows the secret

The Class moving to Gotham for college

Vlad giving them enough money to purchase Drake Manor

Tim has closed off the tunnel between the Manor and the Batcave

Tim was the one to hand the keys over to Danny, whose name was on the deed, courtesy of his new step-dad

They end up keeping in touch and Tim is a frequent visitor at the manor and befriends the majority of the Class

They all still keep up with their training, Sam and Valerie put together an obstacle course with the help of the jocks and every Saturday is a free-for-all battle royale with ecto guns set to their lowest setting across all of the grounds.

The last one standing gets to pick what restaurant dinner is from that night and the movie for movie night.

Tim does find all of this rather unusual, but mostly he finds that they remind him of all his hero friends.

This, more than anything else they do, makes him very concerned.

Why do these random midwesterners train like heroes? Why do they have a camaraderie he’s only seen forged on the same battlefield? He’s noticed they mostly defer to a group of five individuals. The pair of siblings who now own the Manor and the partners of one of said siblings. More than that, they all defer to Danny, the one he gave the keys to.

Luckily for him, Two Face happened to attack the bank that Danny was at and Danny did something he’d only ever seen Bruce manage to do and talked the villain down from the attack.

When asked, Dent just said that he saw a kinship in the kid, said he’d understood duality in a way that resonated with him.

Later that night Red Robin reopened the tunnels and paid one Daniel Fenton a visit. Tim found him in his father’s old study, using a brand new telescope through the window. He knocked and waited before entering.

“Ah, I expected one of you to show up. It’s why I decided to stay up tonight actually. We have a lot to talk about if you’ll take a seat? I’ll get us some energy drinks. You’ll be able to confirm they’re sealed and not poisoned that way. What’s your favorite flavor? Between the fifteen of us we’ve got to have the right flavor.”

Red Robin stood there for a moment, processing before following the man to his pantry. Once there he opened a new package of his favorite energy drink and opened it himself; not once did Danny make a fuss about him opening a whole new package. He grabbed a second one to bring with him back to the office. Danny grabbed a couple himself.

Once back in the office, they sat in two chairs across from each other. Danny leaned on his elbows with his fingers steepled. “What I am about to tell you is an incredible risk to everyone in this house, and likely yourself included. I need you to promise me to listen to everything I tell you before you start asking questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability after I have gone over the basics. What I am about to tell you is going to sound unbelievable, but I’m banking on the fact that you have likely frequently experienced impossible things and therefore may take me seriously.” Danny stared at the mask. “Now, what do you know about ghosts?”

Tim’s hair trigger was of disbelief, but then he paused and considered. Clark’s an alien, Diana’s a god, Conner’s a clone, at least half the family has come back to life. Why couldn’t ghosts exist? “Not much besides fairy tales.” He braced himself for what was to come.

Danny narrowed his eyes appraisingly. “Hmm. Well. They are, in fact, real. I’ll show evidence in a little bit. A Ghost as we know them is generally formed when a person’s emotions during death produce enough ectoplasm to give their sentience form. They then become residents of a place known by two names; the Ghost Zone, or the Infinite Realms. The Ghost Zone is what it’s known as on Earth, and the residents of the place itself call it the Infinite Realms.” Danny pauses here for a moment and then claps his hands. “Now, all ghosts are members of the Infinite Realms, but not all beings of the Infinite Realms are ghosts. The Realms is a dimension mirroring our own that is entirely made of ectoplasm. It’s where the residue from the emotions of all beings in our universe go and then are given form. There are beings there that are basically gods and are aspects given form. I can go on and on about the Realms later. What’s important is that throughout history there have been unstable naturally occurring portals between the two dimensions, but around five years ago, a pair of scientists managed to open a stable portal to this dimension. A few months later, a former college friend of theirs made a second stable portal, but I’ll get to him in a minute. Once this portal was established, it made it so that ghosts could now freely come into our world. A young hero took up protecting the city, but his first few attempts had quite a bit of misunderstanding to them and so he was villainized for a while. This resulted in the government establishing an agency to combat these threats. All well and good, right?” He raised an eyebrow at Tim. “You would think so. However, the laws passed to make this agency had some clauses that are questionable. I’ll just hand you a copy of the documentation so that you can read it.”

He handed Tim a folder labeled “Anti-Ecto Acts”. He began to peruse them and came upon the clause that declared any being that can process or contains ectoplasm is considered non-sentient or sapient and called for the capture, eradication, or experimentation of all such “ecto-beings”. “This, can’t be right. This is a blatant contradiction to the Meta Protection Acts.”

Danny smirked a sad smile. “You’d think, right?” He gave him a moment to process that. “You can read up more on that later. I have other things to say.” Tim set aside the folder and took a deep chug of his energy drink.

“Alright, hit me.” he said as he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, giving Danny his full attention.

“Kay, so, you notice the ‘any being that can process ectoplasm’ bit? Yeah, well that can apply to some humans too. Humans that are considered death-touched or Liminal. People who have been surrounded by death, have died even if momentarily on the operating table, but especially people who have been exposed to high levels of ectoplasm. Here’s the thing about living in a town with a stable portal to effectively the afterlife: it kinda does some stuff to you.” He flashed his eyes a Lazerus green as he set his right palm on the desk. He’s quiet for a moment before he leaned back with a sigh, then closed his eyes so they returned to their normal blue. 

“Every individual in my hometown is ecto-contaminated.” He said quietly, like, Tim supposes, he was telling a secret. Tim guesses he was. “Every person there is death-touched. Every person there is Liminal. Every person pings as an ecto-entity to the GIW. We’re all at risk. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the heroes would ping too. I need your help.” Danny turned begging eyes upon Red Robin. “I need your help, and you need this too because I noticed it when we first met, Tim, that you are too.”

Tim reeled, he stood and knocked his chair over. “Wh-what do you mean?” 

“How many times have you been near-death? How many times have you been around the dying? That sort of stuff leaves a mark on people. They begin to metabolize ectoplasm. I reckon that the majority of the Justice League apply. I’d argue that soldiers who have seen active combat would register on some sensors. According to those laws, you can be captured and experimented on. They’re luckily focusing on ghosts and have been ignoring people, but it’s only a matter of time. I need you to bring this to Batman, to the League. I need these Acts removed. They call for the eradication of my People” His eyes flashed a green again as the word resonated. “This calls for the eradication of an entire dimension, they’ve already tried it once, and if they had, it would have torn this universe apart. Luckily the nuke they had was a dud.” 

Tim swallowed at that. “Nuke? They tried to nuke an entire dimension?” Tim picked up the chair and sat heavily in it. “I’m going to guess that this somehow gets worse?”

Danny nodded solemnly. “You see, the Infinite Realms has a council and a king. A good majority of the council rightfully believes that these Acts are calling for the genocide of our people. The king has kept them at bay for now, but they’re calling for war.” 

Tim put his head in his hands and groaned. “And the king?” Danny looked at him, debating something for a moment. Then he stood and there was a flash of bright light. Stood in front of Red Robin could only be the King. Danny now had bright white hair and eyes that glowed with a familiar Lazarus green. He wore a cloak of stars and his crown looked like the Northern Lights. He wore armor that seemed to be a combination of the ancient Norse and Greeks. “I just want my people safe.”

[utilitycaster]

Hope I can phrase this in a way that makes sense but—

What well-known actual-play cast member is your favorite for each of the core D&D class? Not necessarily a specific characters, but I’m interested in which players you think brings the most to each class.

This is a very interesting question! It's a hard one to answer for some classes and very easy for others so bear with me; also there are a couple where I could not pick just one.

I'm sticking to the PHB 12 for, as you said, core classes:

Barbarian: While Travis did give us "I would like to rage," I think Ashley and Taliesin get to share this one for me. I think they both really explore what rage means to someone and while I love a good "I'm a tank because I can take the hits and that's what I do and what I'm good at" story, I also think Yasha's messy relationship with her feelings of guilt and grief, and Ashton's chronic pain, are both incredible ways to play with the barbarian archetype.

Bard: much easier. Sam Riegel and Krystina Arielle. I'm a sucker for someone who actually sings even as I don't think you have to (and have played bard without doing so). It's both clearly a class they each love dearly and it shows, and they're incredibly musically talented performers to boot.

Cleric: Lou Wilson. Especially since I didn't like Fantasy High season 1 Fabian until the end of the season Kingston blew me away. I would love to see him explore cleric again, though it's exciting to see him as a paladin on WBN.

Druid: Emily Axford as Moonshine. Emily as a rule understands D&D classes very well anyway, but I think the culture of the crick and the ways that Moonshine must grow as a character while being a druid take it to the next level. (Also I prefer a caster-heavy druid to a shapechanger-heavy one; that's just me).

Fighter: Back to NADDPod because literally who could I say other than Jake Hurwitz, the man who only plays fighters. People who are new to D&D when they start actual play can be hit or miss imo; some pick it up and some lean harder on being showy to make up for it and it doesn't play well for me personally, but Jake is the greatest hit.

Monk: Marisha Ray; Beau is just generally a great character, and I think Marisha's own experience with martial arts informs the way she plays her; monks can be kind of repetitive in combat even with strong players and she manages to avoid this through her description.

Paladin: This is actually super hard because people don't play straight paladin a lot. This is incorrect of them, but it is an intense class. I think Luis Carazo and Zac Oyama are like...the duality of paladin (and indeed, redemption paladin). The tragedy and the comedy.

Ranger: Laura Bailey, natch; it's funny because Vex is in many ways not the archetypal ranger due to having high charisma, but she is simply my favorite and that's that on that. Sorry the mechanics were so bad; I would love to see more rangers in D&D even though Vex will be hard to dethrone. I promise Tasha's fixed them!

Rogue: I think I'm actually going Murph on this one. I like when rogues are more of the detective/spy type than the assassin/criminal type [obligatory "of course that's what you'd say you stupid paladin stan"] and inquisitive and arcane trickster are probably my two top rogue classes so Riz it is.

Sorcerer: I do consider PF1e cheating here because it's technically a different system that also imo addresses a lot of the weaknesses of sorcerer/makes it way better, but Bryn Monroe of RQG did play a great sorcerer. In D&D? Giving Emily Axford a second spot here for Saccharina. I'm going to talk about this for warlock, but I think sorcerer is a class you don't have to justify but if you don't it's a little unsatisfying. Sorcerer really shines in the Crown of Candy setting, and metamagic often doesn't live up to its reputation but Emily makes it work for her.

Warlock: Travis Willingham. I think there are classes that are kind of self-explanatory, for lack of a better term; you can play a fighter or rogue or even a bard or druid without going super deep into why the character is this class and still be an incredible character (though a good backstory never hurts). But there are others where you really need to be engaging with the class at all times to make it work, and warlock is one of them, and Fjord explores the warlock pact and what it means like few others.

Wizard: Aabria Iyengar. NO ONE gets wizard hubris as a player like Aabria. Knowledge is power and boy do wizards love knowledge. I especially like that most people in 5e play wizards as genuine adventurers because it feels very easy to play them as old guy in robes swept up in events beyond them; Aabria plays wizards who are combat ready with the humanity and backstory to make the difficult decisions sympathetic and meaningful, and I think that's how you have to play it.

Note: I want to specifically call out Liam O'Brien and Siobhan Thompson as "people I trust in basically any class or system and just didn't happen to hit a favorite here due to sky-high competition/personal preferences". They are both very close seconds for wizard.

[ro-is-struggling]

Literally no one asked for this but lately I can't stop thinking about Bucky being shy around a girl he likes. The idea of such a tall, strong, imposing man turning into a nervous mess who can't even look you in the eye drives me crazy. It's the duality of the toughness of his exterior contrasting against the softness and tenderness of his interior that leaves me screaming, crying and throwing up. So I'm gonna write about it!

Rambling under the cut (wc: 2400 This was supposed to be a drabble… ooops).

Read part 2 here!

I imagine that after everything Bucky went through he has a bit of a hard time reconnecting with people. That cheerful, confident boy who had left for war over 70 years ago was long gone and he wasn't sure he could get him back. But he was still trying hard to get better, to regain at least a little of that spirit that had been taken from him. Steve, Sam and Natasha were a great help, as well as Shuri and all those who had assisted in his deprogramming in Wakanda. His new friends were a great support, the firm foundation on which he could begin to rebuild his life. They always pushed him to experience new things, to step out of his comfort zone. 

That's how he met you.

It was an accident really. Sam had proposed the idea of going out to celebrate every time they completed a mission. He said it was because they deserved some fun after all that hard work, but Bucky knew it was all an excuse to force him to go out and have contact with people other than them. He tried to get out of it that time, excusing himself by saying he was too tired to go out, but his friends dragged him with them anyway. At the time he had hated them a little for it, but now he couldn't be more grateful.

The bar Sam wanted to go to was closed and by some chance of fate they ended up celebrating their recent victory at the bar where you worked. It wasn't the fanciest place in town, but it was cozy. It was dimly lit and although the music blared throughout the place, it wasn't unbearably loud. One could chat with friends over drinks without having to shout or feel sweaty people brushing against your body every couple of seconds. Bucky liked it, it was the first bar they went to where he really felt comfortable. And he liked it even more when his eyes met your figure behind the counter. There was something about you that called to him. He couldn't explain it in words, but for some reason he was unable to take his eyes off you. 

He immediately captured your attention as well. A man like him attracted everyone's attention every time he entered a room. He was tall, strong and imposing. His long dark brown hair covered part of his face, hiding behind the locks a mysterious, calculating look. While his friends talked and laughed among themselves, he was silent most of the time, watching his surroundings carefully, studying the people around him. He looked dangerous, but for some reason you didn't feel intimidated when you felt his gaze on your figure. You were... intrigued. So you put aside what you were doing —which wasn't much really, it was a slow night— and approached his table to take his order.

You were hoping to hear his voice, to discover something more about him through that little interaction —to hear him joke with his friends, for him to give you a corny compliment like most of the men there, maybe catch his name in the middle of a conversation. You would have settled for anything that would have helped you unveil the mystery behind his eyes, any little comment that would have helped you reveal something of his personality so you could satiate your curious mind. But he never spoke to you. He didn't even look at you as his friend ordered a round of drinks for the group. He kept his head down, his eyes glued to his fingers fiddling with a piece of paper on the table. So that night you went home with that mystery man circling around in your head. 

You thought you would never see him again, that his deep blue eyes would remain engraved in your memory, his mysterious and penetrating gaze haunting you in your dreams as your mind became obsessed with discovering more of him. And for a while that was the case. But then one day you saw him again, walking through the door of the bar with his imposing stride. You noticed he looked different, his hair was a little longer and a luscious beard adorned his face, adding to his scruffy and mysterious appearance. When your eyes met you felt your heart beat faster, electricity coursing through your body as you felt his intense gaze admiring your figure. But the moment was short-lived, the strange connection between you breaking when he looked away after a few seconds, turning to look for a table.

You were able to find out his name this time, though it wasn't because he told you, but because you'd heard his friends call him 'Bucky' a couple of times. He still didn't speak to you or look at you, at least when you approached his table. You could feel his intense gaze on you as you served other customers. He followed your every move, admiring the contour of your hips as you walked or the way your lips curved upward when your co-worker made you laugh. Sometimes you'd catch him staring at you, your eyes connecting for a few seconds before he'd look away. It was frustrating, but at the same time it left you wanting more. You longed for his arrival with each passing day, watching the door every night in hopes of seeing him come in. 

Although it wasn't long before that strange cat and mouse game you seemed to be playing started to annoy you.

Bucky and his friends became regulars, showing up at the bar once or twice a month. And over time you became friends with the whole group except for one, the only one you were really interested in getting to know. Your relationship improved a bit, at least now he talked to you from time to time, but it was nothing compared to the friendships you had formed with Steve, Nat and Sam. You knew Bucky a little better, but that was less because of your relationship and more because you had the opportunity to observe him interacting with his friends. He seemed to become more open with each new visit to the bar, chatting and laughing more freely with his friends than he had the first few times. You also noticed that he no longer seemed to be so aware of his surroundings, allowing himself to relax and get lost in the moment with his friends.

It was nice to see him getting better, letting loose a little more each day. But for some reason that didn't affect the way he behaved with you. You still felt his gaze on you at every minute, but when you approached his table he barely spoke to you. Sam, Steve and Nat always joked with you and asked you about your day, but he barely laughed along and that was if you were lucky. You didn't understand why it was so hard to get through to him, you treated him with the same attention and kindness as the rest of his friends and yet he could barely look at you. It was frustrating and honestly it was starting to piss you off. Who did he think he was to ignore you like that? Did he think he was better than you somehow? Was he too good to talk to someone like you?

One day you got tired of the doubts, of wondering if you had done something wrong or if Bucky was just a self-absorbed asshole, so you expressed your concerns to Steve. "What's the deal with your friend?" you asked him as you poured the drinks he had gone to the bar to order. "Why does he always look down when I'm around? I mean, he barely speaks to me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, no," Steve was quick to say, resting his hand on yours in a comforting gesture. "He's just... a bit difficult sometimes."

"Difficult as in an arrogant asshole who thinks he's better than everyone or-?" you started to say, but Steve interrupted you before you could finish. 

"No, he's a great guy. He's just been through a lot."

"Oh," you mumbled, not knowing what else to say. "Is that why he never talks to me?"

"Yeah, just give him some more time, I'm sure he'll come around." 

Steve returned to his table with the drinks, leaving you alone behind the bar, processing his words. Neither of you noticed that Bucky was only a couple of feet away from you as you spoke. Maybe if he was a normal person he wouldn't have been able to hear your conversation, after all he was a bit far away and the music coming out of the speakers was a bit louder than usual. But he was not a normal person and that was his problem. 

His enhanced sense of listening because of the serum running through his veins allowed him to hear your conversation with Steve and I'd be lying if I said that listening to you say those things didn't make his heart clench in his chest. He supposed you were right, he hadn't been very nice to you all this time, but that wasn't because he didn't like you. On the contrary, he liked you too much and that scared him. He couldn't explain very well what he felt, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he felt things for you, things he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a strange attraction that called him to you, a force that made it impossible for his eyes to leave you.

He looked forward to the end of missions like no one else, not because he disliked working, but because it meant he could see you. You were his motivation. He longed more than anything to walk through the big doors of the bar and see your smile, he missed it every night he didn't see you. But for some reason he couldn't do anything but duck his head every time you came near him. He didn't understand what was wrong with him and honestly it was driving him a little crazy.

“You like her, Buck,” Steve told him after listening to him explain his situation. His friend had approached him the next morning to talk about you and your concerns. Steve knew there was something between you, a special spark, and he didn't want Bucky to miss his chance because he was afraid to act on what he felt. "You should let her know before it's too late. She kinda thinks you're an asshole."

Bucky knew his friend was right, but how could he? He had nothing to offer you. He was a broken man with a past as dark as the blood stains that covered his hands. He wasn't ready to be in a relationship. Sometimes he thought he never would be. The guy capable of loving and being loved had died the day he was captured in the war so many years ago, he just hadn't realized it yet.

"You have to stop blaming yourself for it," Steve said as he read the doubt in his friend's eyes. "You have to move on. You deserve to have a life, the life that was taken away from you, and I think this is how you can get it back," he added, sliding him a piece of paper with a number and your name scribbled on it in black ink. 

Bucky stared at the piece of paper for quite a while, debating whether or not to follow Steve's advice. The more logical part of him, the part that had been to countless therapy sessions, told him that his friend was right. He had been controlled and manipulated by Hydra to do those horrible things. They were the ones who had turned him into a weapon, a killer. He had been trapped in his mind for over 70 years and now that he was finally free it was his turn to decide the course of his life. And he knew Steve —and his therapist— was right, he deserved a fresh start, he deserved to get his life back on track and find happiness. 

But guilt... oh guilt paralyzed him. He had spent all this time training his mind to control that voice inside him, but sometimes it still resurfaced. And every time it did it reminded him what a piece of shit he was. He didn't deserve a happy ending, the people he had hurt did and he had taken that away from them. It was an insult to their memory to go on with his life as if his hands weren't covered in blood. And it was naive of him to think that anyone could ever love a murderer like him.

It was a constant struggle in his mind, the two sides of him fighting to win. He liked to believe that most of the time positivity came out on top, but he wasn't so sure about that. He'd had some pretty dark days lately. 

Looking at the piece of paper one more time, Bucky decided that he had let fear and guilt paralyze him long enough. Part of getting better and making amends involved facing his fears, overcoming his insecurities and starting over. So he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saved your number, typing a quick message to send before he could get cold feet. 

You were enjoying your day off when your phone vibrated on the coffee table. You stretched your arm from the couch to grab it without having to get up, not even bothering to pause the movie you were watching to check the notification. You were sure it was nothing important, but you were pleasantly surprised when you read the message from the unknown number, smiling at the screen like a schoolgirl.

I wanted to tell you that I’m not arrogant, I’m shy. But if you want we can go for a cup of coffee sometime.

[toournextadventure]

Sam : Babe what are you scared of?

Prof : Losing you.

Tara : J what are you scared of?

Joker : You.

-🩶

The duality of man. Sam and Tara get two sides of the same coin