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booksandchainmail · 10 months

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Pale 10.1

The wrought-iron building around the landing, on this end of the concourse, the tiled floor, in white, yellow, black, and red, each tile about three feet across by three feet across.

same humors color coding as the judges!

“Is there any way around binding her?” Avery asked Tymon. “The whole point is to give something up and lock us in as partners, but the books outline it as dependent on getting the seal applied.”

would binding Snowdrop to the Seal of Solomon get rid of her reversed talk thing? That might make it worth it, since it seems it really bothers her.

“But it’s important to me because the seal is… the Others I trust and the Practitioners I don’t trust have convinced me that whatever it used to be, it’s evolved to something that’s, hmm… it’s in bad faith, I suppose? Or used in bad faith. Snowdrop’s included among the group of Others and if I bound her I think that would change how some of them look at me.”

and conversely not doing it is a great sign of good faith

Verona was an improviser, to a scary degree. Avery did admire that. And Lucy was very aware of… of the present. She was present, Avery thought, hyperaware of the words people were using and the details in the situation and stuff. Avery had often felt like she had to turn her brain off for her best performance. Eye on the goal, trusting her skates or her soccer cleats to help her get to that goal, mind disassociating from the everyday to get into the rules of the game, of position and movement and where her team was.

which contributes to Avery undervaluing herself, since she isn't conscious of making the decisions she does

“I feel like if I start having to use the seal regularly, that’s a problem. That’s not the direction I want to go. I’d rather…”

it closes off options to commit to not using the seal, but I think that's the only way to keep to that principle? If using the seal is an option and comes with no practice-related downsides, it will always be a possibility to resort to. Making part of her practice contingent on not using the seal locks in this principle as something Avery can't (easily) compromise.

Hat on a string at her neck, mask at her side. She took the horn and poised it at her brow, and it stayed there, where it would be if she had the mask on and it was still a part of the mask.

I like this phantom antler thing Avery has

Snowdrop grinned, framed by a backdrop of Lost, wide enough that Avery could see that she still had missing teeth.

nice that this crowd of Lost showed up, giving Snowdrop more support to match the practitioners Avery asked to attend

“By old rules, I invite you deeper into my world. I’ve been greedy, Snow, we took you from the forest, I seriously thought I might sacrifice you, and I made you a tool to help me on the Trail. You did everything you were supposed to and more, you saved me, you won me over, and even if the Trail was a nightmare that I still haven’t completely gotten over, it gave me you. I wanted to do this here, in a place that’s closer to your nature as a Lost, because we spend so much time in my world. When we go back, let this ritual help you be welcomed and embraced by that world, by humanity, and by any demesne I establish.” “I don’t want it and I don’t accept. I want you and the spirits to hear me, I’m neither Lost, from Spirit, or from Nature. I’m all of those things and none and you’re not welcome to any of it. You and me are different in this, and I think that’s important, Avery. You’re not meant to straddle worlds like me. You’re meant to stay put and I’m going to make you stay put.” Avery’s hand tightened, gripping Snowdrop’s. “I accept any and all help that you’re willing to give me. I accept any and all shelter and support you provide.”

I LOVE OATHS LIKE THIS SO MUCH.

Particularly the thing you get mostly with fealty oaths, about granting a place in your home. And here it's both Avery's potential future demesne and all the world of humanity...

And I like that between these two, there is no limits or requirements for what Snowdrop provides.

“We hear you, Lance. Come on over.” The reply came through the walkie-talkie, and ended with a double buzz.

not "Come on. Over." ?

“I was thinking long knight’s move. Three forward, one over, or vice versa.”

fits her! both the "knight" concept and the movement, bold advance with a flanking element

“I’ll give you sustenance. Including strawberry milk, and I’ll give you strength and lifespan as part of that. My lifespan is your lifespan, if and when it helps.”

oh nice! we're cutting between the Familiar ritual and the Path adventure, I thought the ritual seemed a bit short

also, I think "my lifespan is your lifespan" is probably the kind of statement most practitioners try to avoid

“I give you my ability to lie, Avery, out of hopes it screws you up real bad and ruins your practice forever. You get nothing else from me you’d want, in protections and special rules.”

holy shit. Lying! That's major for a practitioner. Avery could make great use of that, especially if she keeps it quiet and uses Oni-style tactics.

On John’s shoulder, Cherrypop leaned over to a Lost and did a really bad job of whispering, “I think Snowdrop’s winning.”

ranked competitive familiar ritual

“No,” Jude said. “With most things out on the Paths, if there’s a rule tied to something you can manage with one of the five senses, it’s rarely going to lie.” “When I walked the Trail, one of the objects was buried in the paint, the cat skull was barely visible under an Other’s skin, and the coin was under a layer of dirt.” “Where the heck was your starting point? A murder room?”

Snowdrop's influence on the Trail? Good to know it was harder than anticipated though, that makes the Forest Ribbon Trail a lot more reasonable as a starting Path.

“The antler? I guess my broken antler was staying up when it should fall down.” “Could be a Lost thing. Entangling what you had with you back then with you. It might be worth looking at the clothes you wore back then.”

and here I was thinking it was just a narrative resonance thing. Guess I've spent too much time thinking in terms of PGTE

Snowdrop nodded. “And I’m going to ruin your life and I never want to see you set up a family. I’ll be the treasure to your trash, the day to your night, and the cool flourishes to your out-of-nowhere biteyness.”

biteyness!

“Then I bind myself to my word,” Avery said. She took the broken horn from over her head and pressed it to Snowdrop’s collarbone. “To what I’ve sworn to you, to intent. We forego the direct use of the Seal of Solomon, but we keep its intent. You were bound once, symbolically and literally, and that’s enough. I trust you.” “I’m calling this off, I don’t accept, I can’t trust you,” Snowdrop said. She pulled off an earring. She reached over to Avery’s friendship bracelet and stuck the length of the earring through the braided fabric. “I swear nothing.” To Avery’s Sight, the mist rolled, and she could see the tether of the connection between them, extending along her arm, with friendship bracelet with the dangling opossum charm. It worked around the black rope. Silver ran through the fabric of the bracelet, and copper-tinted light through the antler.

<3 <3 <3

... I wonder if I could get some opossum charms... the site I looked at didn't have any but there must be some out there

“We must each give you some rules to follow, however.”

Interesting, are these rules just being imposed on Avery as penalty for jumping on their table, or are they telling her about conditions of the Path?

It wasn’t that there weren’t any moves. It was that there weren’t any good ones. Stalling one and moving into a space it would otherwise take still meant she was in close proximity to a bunch of Others.

just like chess!

Not Miss. No, she didn’t expect to see Miss, especially when Miss had been unable to answer the call. But when they’d seen Miss on the bridge of light beams, there had been another Other there. A ballerina in a blue tutu, head turned away.

oh hey, went back to look at Miss's interlude, and as well as the ballerina there was also the dog on a ball and schoolkids on their way to Earthly Oak Avenue

“She’s kind of an Other with more confirmed Finder kills than the you-know-what, according to our records.”

welp. Miss keeps nice company? Though honestly, remembering how the Finder Miss encountered treated her... this might be justified

The ballerina brought her hands to her face, where Avery couldn’t really see through her head to make it out. Avery almost went with Snowdrop Sight to see around the sides of the tightly bunned-up brown hair, but the Ballerina turned her face skyward, hands cupped. There was no sound, but it was pretty clear what she meant.

????

actually, looking at the lines below:

But it was unnecessary, because the schoolkids behind Avery were howling, now, voices overlapping. They didn’t name it, but it was clear they knew, too. “Is she here?” Avery asked.

the Wolf?

“I take issue with that,” Snowdrop said. She gripped the rope, slid her hand down to the part of it that was insubstantial, and then pulled, twice. Nothing happened.

fuck.

#booksandchainmail reads pale #pale #wildbow

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bacchicly · 2 years

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The Party is Over

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

CM TROPE BINGO 2022 PROMPT: One Decision Changes Everything

Summary: Penelope is a hostess with the mostest. So why doesn’t Luke stay at her steampunk themed get together? Soft and fluffy happy hot sex. Not linked to any other story I’ve written.

Content: Graphic descriptions of sex,first time together, safe sex, talk of consent, steampunk-esque costumes, brief mention of The Flight of the Conchords.

Words: 4000ish

Penelope's apartment has that definite post-party look. Empty glasses sit haphazardly around the kitchen, the sink is filled with platters and empty bowls, and Penelope is standing at the door - looking happy but exhausted still dolled up in her copper and teal lace corset and tiered skirt - saying goodbye to Savannah and Derek who are putting on coats and smiling and asking for the umpteenth time if they can help clean up more.

"No! Away with you both! You have a perfectly good hotel room and a kid-free night that is a-wasting! Now tho you two beautiful people! How else am I going to get more God-Children!?! Scoot! And Derek you be careful taking off this fine woman's corset - or so help me!"

"Alright! Alright! I promise you I will be gentle. See you for lunch tomorrow, Baby Girl?"

"Yes! A late lunch though! Linner."

Savannah laughs and puts on her best impersonation of her husband:

"Oh Baby Girl! And I was hoping for Lupper."

"Savanah!? Why did you marry that lout when you could have married me!" Penelope presses a big kiss to Savannah's cheek as she swoops in for one last hug and then nicely shoos her friends out the door - closing it with a click.

Penelope takes a big breath and gives herself a moment to lean back against the closed door and take stock.

Tonight was a good night and most people at least tried to dress to theme - lots of gears and corsets and hats and part antique/part futuristic ray guns.

Spencer had carried around a false skull all night and kept pulling down his terrifying plague doctor mask and chasing the rest of them around the apartment.

The punch had been a success and the couple of ice-breaker games she insisted on had been satisfyingly silly. Tara and Emily in particular had howled with delight at the one where people were given two topics and then had to improvise a bizarre conspiracy theory connecting the two. The looks on people's faces when they closed their arguments with the decreed serious expression and the phrase "Think About It."

Matt and Kirsty had tag-teamed for that one - wildly connecting cream of mushroom soup to the moon landing.

Yeah. It had been a good night. So, why did she feel so hollow now.

He hadn't shown up. That's why.

Ok. So - technically - he did make an appearance... He arrived while she was in the kitchen fixing drinks for Will and Rossi and Tara who were not "punch people". When she came back out into the living room.... There. He. Was.

He was talking to Tara - laughing as he reached up to stroke a purple feather on her fascinator probably in rebuttal to some "your mom" Tara had laid down.

His smile had been gorgeous.

Heart stoppingly so.

Penelope - determined not to pay any undo attention to her newest guest - waltzed through her guests - handing the beer to Will and the scotch to Rossi - she tried not to look..but her eyes kept flitting over to him.

If she hadn't have been bringing Tara her drink...she might have avoided him...at least until her head had stopped spinning - but needs must and she was a hostess with the mostess... So...

"Here you go m'lady. Hello Luke! I'm so glad you could make it! Can I get you some punch or a scotch like this wench is drinking?"

At the sound of her voice, Luke had spun around and...

Damn it.

She didn't know why - and she bet no one else saw it - but all laughter had fallen from his face - had clenched his jaw - looked furious...

Just for a split micro-second and then his stupid beautiful lips had curled into a smile and... and...

"No actually. I know I just got here but I have to ahhh bounce. I... It's Roxy... She's been cooped up all day - I came straight from work - and ahh I just got a text saying that her sitter got tied up at work... So she didn't get an evening walk... And...ah.. so sorry.. Thanks for the invite Garcia. I'll ahhh maybe see if I can swing back later."

And he - and his perfect blousy chest-bearing pirate shirt - and his soft tight brown breaches - and his tall leather boots - and his bowler with sea-green bullets in the band - had left.

And never came back.

It was worse than him not showing up at all.

🔸🔸🔸

Three loud knocks on the door behind her jolt Penelope out of her thoughts.

Assuming one of her guests had forgotten something - Penelope swings open the door without checking the peep-hole - then gapes...

Standing in her doorway - resplendent in his rakish costume - sea-green bullets and all - is Luke Alvez. His expression stern. His eyes blazing.

Penelope's eyes can't help but skim his mostly bare chest - his hands hanging by his side's in fingerless gloves - the way his breeches hug his...

Penelope makes herself meet his eyes. Forces a smile.

"The party is over - they all went home."

"Derek and Savannah were the last? Everyone's gone?"

"Everyone."

"Good."

And Luke takes a giant step into the room - brings one hand up to catch her cheek - caressing his hand back until it's tangled in her hair - fingers curled around the sweet curve of her skull. He then leans in smelling of night and spice and Luke - bringing their lips ever so close... and when he speaks she can feel - taste his breath.

"I had to leave. You. That costume. Penelope I... May I kiss you? Please? Now?"

A million thoughts go through Penelope's brain. She wants to kiss him. Always wants to kiss him...but they work together... and... and he left her party...and... Oh fuck it.

Penelope's lips form a single word "Yes." and then they are kissing. It is not a deep kiss. Nor a wild one. Instead he is just brushing her lips lightly - feather soft with his. Back and forth. Brush. Brush. Brush. Side to gentle side.

Luke lifts his other hand - mirroring the grip of the other - holding her in place - not that she's going anywhere. The moment is too sweet - too exquisite - too long dreamed of. The shock of reality holds her in place more surely than his hands.

Her hands have gathered fistfuls of skirt - the stiff shiny rough silk flirting with her finger tips - cozying her palms - grounding her - holding herself back and here.

Luke is the first to make a sound. A mou that pings against her heated brain - and without thinking her lips part - and slowly ever so slowly - he slants his mouth so that first his lower lip and then his upper slips between hers - holding first her upper lips and then her lower in their own kiss - each one its own universe. Penelope now can't help it and her mouth reacts - greeting him - welcoming him - but their pace - their glacier intensity - is matched - perfectly matched even as this kiss - the kisses - deepen.

Luke's hands slide down her neck - thumbs stroking gently - ever so gently - down her throat - over the edge of her velvet choker - playing for a moment with the charm - his open palms coming to rest on her bare shoulders - his hand so broad that his thumbs graze past her clavicle and rest on the swell of her breasts that have been pushed high and proud by her shimmery corset.

He moans now - and Penelope swallows the sound. She lets go of her skirt now and places her palms high on his shirt-covered belly - then can't help but slide her hands up until her fingertips rest on bare skin. He is so warm. So wonderfully stupidly warm. Somewhere during the kiss his hat tumbles to the floor forgotten.

And now it is Penelope's turn to moan onto his mouth and his turn to swallow her sounds.

Curse words - the best ones - run triumphantly through their brains. This kiss - while imagined often by each of them - is leaps and bounds more powerful, more moving, more sweet than either has ever dared to dream.

Finally one of those wholesome curses finds its way to Penelope's clever mouth and she pulls back - giving the word voice.

"Fuck Luke."

His brain wants him to say a cocky "Yes! Please!" but he stifles it. Stays silent. So Penelope - his sexy,.amazing, practically clairvoyant about everything except him - well until now - Penelope...completes the thought.

"I think your line is 'Yes Please'"

"Penelope..I..."

"Luke, no pressure, and you can of course say no - I know I can be a little intense... but if you wanted - consented... I would like very much to have sex with you right now. Save the talking for later? We've known each other long enough...well enough...I just. I really want to have sex with you - but only if you..."

He kisses her fast and hard - the way he wanted to at the party - but wouldn’t couldn’t infront of everyone.

Her arms come around his neck. His hands are somehow on her waist. The ridges of the corset remind him that he wants to look at her. That while she is always pure joy to behold - one of the sexiest and certainly the most effervescent woman he has ever met - tonight she is more than that...a pure wet dream come to life swathed in sumptuously moulded and draped deep copper and turquoise fabric - looking like she'd be more at home on the wind swept deck of an armoured dirigible than in a downtown D.C. apartment.

So Luke pulls back - a few steps back even - and feasts with his eyes - noting all the subtle details of her costume... the lace trim - the ruched and layered skirt that is artfully looped up above one knee - a thigh garter peekabooing through the slit and the ruffles - the side buttoned heeled boots - the beading - the hairpiece that is shaped like a fan and which matches the hues of her corset. He laughs to himself as he notices how he uses words like 'ruched' and 'hues' so easily in his thoughts around her. She is words and light and sassy combinations and it makes him feel alive.

Penelope's voice is soft but confident, "You like what you see, Agent?"

"I don't think like is a big enough word."

She smiles so wide and ready. She hopes-hopes he'll say yes. That they are on the same page - but she also knows she doesn't want to rush him into anything.

"Me too."

And Penelope steps forward and this time she is the one who touches first - tip-toes up to press her mouth to his - licking his lower lip with a pink tongue - pulling him tight against her with handfuls of shirt. Their mouths tangle.

Oh! He tastes the way a campfire burns - entrancing, comforting, yet slightly wild - sizzling and crackling across her tongue - something that climbs and shifts - inviting her to stay - to spill her secrets in the dark- to feel more and deeper. She has wanted this but has been afraid. She is falling - falling - falling - but somehow he is here...he is catching her.

Too fast. She knows she is too fast. Not for her. No, she is who she is and if she could have her head...she would serge forward - brashly boldly taking and giving what she wants - has wanted - needed... dreamed of... but she knows she can be too fast... too pushy... too needy... too much...

Not. A. Damn. Lady.

Confidence. Brassy. Begging.

Too. Fucking. Much.

So, Penelope ends the kiss. It hurts, but she steps back. Panting.

Fuck.

She can't help it. The pain of not kissing him is so potent that she closes her eyes. Her hands are still clenching his shirt.. and her jaw clenches..and her muscles up and down her limbs clench.

Holding herself back.

He hasn't said 'Yes' yet... "A kiss is not a contract...but it's very nice...very very nice..."

Penelope hangs her head... lets out one helpless bark of rye laughter.

"Pen? What-"

"Do you know The Flight Of The Conchords?"

"What- uh.. yeah aren't they a joke band or something? Australia? HBO?"

"New Zealand. Novelty Band."

Luke is unsure now. What has happened? They were... his whole body thrums at the thought of "what they were..." But from the way she is fidgeting with his shirt front...not meeting his.eyes...this seems important to her so...in what somehow manages to be his softest nicest most patient voice...

"Penny? What about them?"

"I know... I mean... I am... I am not like other women... I am... I.. am not good at the coyness or the games or the waiting... I kinda want what I want when I want it and enjoy it and... I know I am not supposed... I know I am.. I mean... I know.. Just because you are a man... and you came back...and..and kissed me... Doesn't mean... I mean... I... I.. Look! I know A Kiss is not a Contract...but it's very nice..."

She's singing now. The Flight of the Conchords song... He's never heard it before so he just goggles at her... as she pitches her voice low... her very best Jermaine... sings the verse to explain....

"..very very nice. Just because we've been playing tonsil hockey...Doesn't mean I get to score the goal..that's in your jockeys."

He snorts.

Penelope meets his eyes and just as she feared - that serious almost angry look is back.

"Penelope. We don't have to do anything you don't want-"

"Luke! I am not worried about that. Not with you! Luke!?! Argh! Didn't you listen to the damn song? It's YOU not ME I am worried about. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to sleep with me just cus I am practically climbing out of my skin wanting you... Just cus you kiss like a dream. Just because you are a man and the common perception is that men always want to jump into bed at the drop of a hat. You. Don't. Have. To. And even if you do say yes now... You. Can. Change. Your. Mind. Later. ALL. WAYS."

She's poking him with her index finger - her gaze glued to a spot around where his heart… reinforcing her points with sharp jabs to his chest.

"Ow. Can I get a word or six in?" Luke gently but firmly folds his hand around hers - stopping the poking. With his other hand he chucks her under the chin - tilting her head up so their eyes can meet. He's struck, for the billionth time since meeting her, just how beautiful her eyes are behind her glasses. He feels her nod more than sees it. He almost closes the space between them with another kiss - but she gave him her words - words that moved him - made him feel surprisingly cared for. He knows he has advantages of strength and training and some other things that go along with being a hale and hearty male - but she's not wrong that there is a flip side to that. Expectations. Not always feeling comfortable or ready but feeling pressure to go forth...man up...avoid having to explain that there was nothing wrong with the whoever he was with...just that it felt too casual...too soon... Yes. She gave him her words. Her consideration. Now he owed her...wanted to give her...his.

"Penelope. I understand. And you don't know how much I appreciate you saying..." his lips quirk "singing what you just did. Really. And same goes for you. Always. But right now...I think we are both on the same page. I think we have known each other a long time. So...if we are two adults who both want...this...shall we go for it?"

"You're sure?" Penelope tries to duck her head - but he keeps his hand steady - creating just enough resistance that she changes directions and doesn't break eye contact.

"I am sure. I have thought of this for years. And more importantly...I have been thinking about it seriously - very seriously for weeks...since Lisa and I broke up... and more so since I left tonight. All the time I sat in my car waiting for everyone to leave... Not trusting myself to come back before you were alone because you looked... so...fucking extra even more than you usually are gorgeous. Penelope Grace Garcia - I am sure about what I want. I want you. Have since we first met and it has just grown bigger and bigger. I want you - however - whatever - you are willing to share. What do you want, Penelope?"

"Everything. Right now. Please?"

His lips are almost on hers.

"Penelope. Tell me if you want me to stop or do something different."

She slides her hands over his shoulders.

"You too."

"Deal."

And they close the space between them and neither can't help the flood of relief that surges through them as their lips meet, their tongues find each other, their bodies press so close - then closer still. There is no more thought or worry, just the best damn kissing either has ever experienced.

Thank Fuck and All That is Good.

Penelope's breasts ache and tingle and call out for freedom from the constraint of the corset. There is something of a heavy triangle of want and need that has settled in her groin - pulsing its 'pleases' for more touch - more friction - more Luke.

Luke consciousness is split into a triptych of sorts - part honed in on the joining of their mouths - part tied to the sensations being harvested by his gloved palms and bare fingertips as he explores her hips, her back, her shoulders,. her bare arms - part pulled to how his cock is straining hard in his boxer briefs - swollen - weeping pre-cum - seriously opinionated about what Luke should make happen next.

Luke's brain throws some random messages at his cock to slow down - that they've waited this long - waiting a bit longer to make sure she feels good - to properly appreciate this first of what he sincerely hopes will be many times... his cock pretty much just blows a raspberry in reply but it also knows that Mr Brain does have some valid points... waiting can make the end sweeter.... so it is worth trying to hold back .. but no promises...

Suddenly Penelope's hands are pulling his shirt up - untucking it from the band of his breaches - and then fall lower scrambling for the buttons on either side of what he recently learned was called 'the fall' of his pants. Luke's whole self - all his attention is drawn - zeroed in on what her fingers are doing. He wrenches his mouth off hers - his fingers digging hard into her sides as he pulls her roughly up against him - catching her hands between their bodies.

"Penelope. Do you... Condoms?"

Penelope turns in his arms - catches up his hand - pulls him towards her bedroom.

"In here."

Her bedroom is like the rest of her apartment - purple walls - gold trim - twinkle lights - a big bed - her comforter a riot of reds and purples - iridescent in the magical glow - a pile of pillows. Sergio jumps from the bed with a thump - leaving the room with a deliberate flick of his tail.

Penelope hunkers down by one of the bedside tables - not letting go of his hand - pulling out an unopened box of condoms from the lower shelf and after ripping open the top of the box with her teeth - sets it on the table top.

"I bought these in a fit of optimism a few days after you told us you'd broken up with Lisa. It wasn't terribly caring or understanding of me. I'm sorry."

Luke presses a kiss to her cheek - nibbles his way to her ear - and whispers "I'm not."

Penelope can't help then but turn her head and catch his lips again with hers. Fuck. How can he taste even better than he did a moment ago?

Her fingers fumble again with his buttons but Luke catches her hands - stills them.

"Not yet. Your dress is going to take some doing to get off and-"

"Luke." Her eyes are stars. "I want you now. Right now. Like this. Unless-"

Fuck.

"Get on the bed, wench."

Fuck. She wants him to fuck her - breasts blooming from her corset. Fuck her with her jewelry still on - the turquoise velvet choker with the brass clockwork heart - her clever fingers bedecked with rings - the earrings shaped delicate songbirds in gilded cages. Fuck her with her ruched skirt up around her waist - her legs wrapped around him - the garter tight around her thigh. Fuck her with her high-heels and her hair half up.

Fuck. Yes.

Luke's cock and brain cackle at his attempt at chivalry.

Now it is Luke's fingers that scrabble on his buttons - pushing down his pants - his boxer briefs. Fast. Now.

Penelope has followed his direction and has scrambled back - lying crossways on the bed - her high-heel shod feet planted on the comforter - her knees bent and spread wide - her skirt indeed pulled high.

Fuck.

Luke can see her lace panties - lace and copper like her corset - darker patches where her pussy has soaked the fabric. He lets himself half fall half kneel between her legs. He hooks one finger around the crotch and pulls the fabric tight to one side - spreading her pussy lip open at the same time. Her pussy is gorgeous - slick and pink - her clit proud and swollen. With a moan he pushes his.face between her legs - pressing a wild open mouthed ranging kiss to her cunt. Teasing her with his clever tongue - mouthing and lipping her wanting flesh - swirling her into a frenzy with laps and licks.

Penelope is panting. She arches up hard when he fucks her with his tongue. In and out. In and out. He uses his fingers too - her wetness marking his half gloves - their fabric adding spice and friction. His nose rubbing achingly against her clit. He breathes in - fuck she smells good to him - like sex and citrus - spicy yet fresh. Fuck.

She cries out when he moves to suck her clit in earnest - little sucklings as he rides her thrusts and grinds - deep sucks when she bucks hard against him - his hand is holding her thigh tight - and she is building sweating climbing - and suddenly she is all that is tight and then it releases and she cries out and convulses hard and shivering - a new splash of juices hitting his chin.

He laves the slightly-less sensitive flesh surrounding her clit as she relaxes out of the orgasm.

Now it is his chivalry that is smirking at his cock and brain. And you thought I was dead? Both cock and brain ignore the exchange and instead scream for a condom. Now! Luke reaches into the package and pulls one away from the others - he rips open the package - hands shaking - and then rolls it on.

Penelope is back in herself and tugs him up her body by his shirt. He kisses her. Holding himself up just enough. Fuck she can taste herself on his tongue.

Her hand is on his cock - lining it up so he can push into her begging pussy. He tries to go slowly - but ends up just bursting into her - ploughing tight - balls deep. He tries to hold himself still then - but she clenches around him and he can't help but pistoning hard and fast and uncontrolled.

And Penelope loves it.

"Luke! Yes. More. Now. Now. Now. NOW!"

And so he lets go. No thoughts. No worries. Just slick tight fast thrusts.

Heat. Want. Her.

He fucks her and she fucks him right back. They are slick and reaching. Taught and tight. Racing - panting - writhing. In rhythm. A fierce new rhythm that is all their own. And suddenly she is cumming again - convulsing hard and tight around - on - his cock. His cock. His cock. She clings to him and now he is cumming too. Ropes of cum explode into the condom. His body spasms in joy and desperation. It is exquisite pain - biting pleasure. His balls empty into her. He chokes out her name. Pulls her even more tightly against him She cries for him - sharp and high - his name shrill and perfect in her mouth. And they press - cling - are together. One. Always. Fuck.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh. Fuck.

Ohhhhhhhh.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Penelope and Luke collapse back onto the bed. A satisfied, gloriously happy, panting, heaving mess. A tangle of limbs and hearts. There are no words as they each come down - settling back to themselves - each aware that there has been a sweet shift made tonight in their lives. Luke closes his eyes in exhausted bliss - only dimly aware when Penelope - Penny - his lover - starts playing her fingers distractly along his back - tracing seams and wrinkles… but he hears her words when she - after many uncounted minutes - speaks…

"Well, Newbie, and to think we aren't even naked yet."

This draws a chuckle deep from Luke's chest and he lifts himself up so he can peer down into her dear beautiful face. His voice in answer is gravely and raw - intimate and low - amusement and hope saturating every word…

"So what you're saying, Penny, is that the best is yet to come?"

Fin.

………..

Maybe to be continued? Depends I guess on my mercurial whims and if y'all enjoyed this or not… so let me know...

Oh and my asks are open for micro fiction or the Alaya Means Home series - if that appeals to you.

Oh and if you don't know it either... here's a link to the Flight of the Conchords' brilliant "A kiss is not a Contract".

Yours respectfully,

Bacchic

Master List | List of One Shots & Happy Versions | Micro-Garvez

💕 Join or Leave my Taglist

Garvez smut taglist:

@vangsdroide @abelieverenjoyingeveryday @kalo-777 @purplestrawberrydonut

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cmbingo22

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bryanevansduff · 2 years

Text

Whose Lives Matter, Anyway?

Hello! I’m your host Drew Carey, and welcome to another episode of “Whose Lives Matter, Anyway?” the civic discourse for the “All Lives Matter” crowd, where the points are made up and nothing matters.

Our first game tonight is “Debates from the Hat,” how this works is I’m going to pull out a few scenarios from this comically-large “Uncle Sam” hat, and our brave contestants who have a lot of terrible, knee-jerk, reactionary viewpoints are going to try to guess if these lives matter or not. The first scenario is...

“A teenager mother who is now suicidal because she had to give birth to her uncle’s baby.”

OK! I see no one is stepping out for this one. Let’s throw this one back in and try another.

A person sitting on death row

No one? Let’s try one more.

The victims of a mass shooting

OK! I see we have a lot of contestants weighing in on this one. That’s great, now to show these victims their lives mattered, what are you willing to do about their deaths?

Sorry, “thoughts & prayers” does not count.

Anybody?

Anybody at all?

OK, let’s just give 100 points to everyone for almost caring, then let’s move on to our second game. This one’s called “Straw Men,” where contestants are required to come up with scenarios that no reasonable person could possibly oppose, all to prove their increasingly trivial rhetorical point. Ready? Begin!

“Don’t you think that Hitler was bad? I mean he killed millions of people and took away the rights of millions more. I think it’d be bad to have Hitler again and I hope you would agree Hitler was bad. Right? OK, so say we have a disease that kills less than 1% of people but those people were already immunocompromised or the elderly and you’re asking us to totally shut down the economy by making it seem so no one can work or go outside or breathe unless they get a vaccine or wear a mask I mean don’t you think that’s a lot like what Hitler did?”

Annnnnnd time’s up! Great work. Way to get to the “H” guy A.S.A.P., invoke his evil deeds to build a false consensus, then plow right into something that could not be less related. I’m giving 100 points to you and another bonus 50 points for being so willing to throw the 1% most vulnerable into a sacrificial pyre for the almighty dollar; very “All Lives Matter” of you, indeed!

Excellent work!

Now let’s move on to our final game. That game is called “Moving Goalposts.” The way that one works is we’ll grab two audience volunteers who will agree to come up on stage. Now, our contestants are going to improvise a scene, but cannot move, so our volunteers have to move them. It’s important they move every time it seems like their argument is getting nailed down. Are we all ready? Great, let’s begin!

An undocumented migrant...

[via audience members, contestants start moving away]

...who came here for a better life

[contestants keep moving away]

BUT they voted the same way you do

[contestants start moving closer]

just kidding, they aren’t allowed to vote!

[contestants start moving away very fast]

but they are the only ones who are willing to care for your elderly, dying parents

[contestants start moving closer]

but now they are asking for a living wage to do so

[contestants start moving away very fast again]

but now we find out that migrant is carrying an unborn child!

[contestants freeze, baffled, confused, and fall over]

Excellent! That was great. 200 points for everyone. Ladies and gentlemen, looking at our score it seems we have a tie! In this event, the winner of the game is anyone who can name someone who disagrees with you but whose life still matters. Ready? Go!

No takers?

Well, looks like we end in a tie, which means we got nowhere and this whole exercise, like much of our great civic experiment, was a failure. We’ll see you next time on “Whose Lives Matter, Anyway?”

0 notes

antoine-roquentin · 3 years

Text

Myanmar: Vast arsenal and notorious troops deployed during nationwide ‘killing spree’ protest crackdown – new research

The Myanmar military is using increasingly lethal tactics and weapons normally seen on the battlefield against peaceful protesters and bystanders across the country, new research by Amnesty International has revealed.

By verifying more than 50 videos from the ongoing crackdown, Amnesty International’s Crisis Evidence Lab can confirm that security forces appear to be implementing planned, systematic strategies including the ramped-up use of lethal force. Many of the killings documented amount to extrajudicial executions.

Footage clearly shows that Myanmar military troops - also known as the Tatmadaw - are increasingly armed with weapons that are only appropriate for the battlefield, not for policing actions. Officers are frequently seen engaging in reckless behavior, including the indiscriminate spraying of live ammunition in urban areas.

‘We are frontliners’: Youth brave bullets and arrest to keep protests alive

While the early street protests against the February 1 military takeover remained largely peaceful, attracting people from all strata of society, the police and army have violently broken up more recent demonstrations, killing more than 70 so far. This has whittled down protests to younger, more daring groups engaging in cat-and-mouse games with security forces: making tactical retreats and reassembling the moment forces move on. To avoid death, injury or arrest, they have had to quickly adopt new methods and tools.

Mayangone Township resident Ko Phyo Tin, 25, who joins the Kyun Taw protest group every day, uses a shield improvised from a piece of steel as protection against rubber bullets and live rounds, and dons a Chinese-made combat helmet.

“Most of us are using protective equipment made in China. We don’t trust its quality but we have no alternative,” he said, adding that the group would gladly accept donations of quality gas masks, hard hats and body armour.

Women have also taken up positions as “frontliners”, the protesters bearing the brunt of the police and army assaults and shielding those behind them. They include Ma Thu Thu, 23, a founder of a team of frontliners that operates in Hlaing and Kamaryut townships, where such groups proliferate.

Thu Thu said her team comprises a core group of more than 10 people that is supported by about another 50 volunteers, who have learned from the street tactics used in dissident movements overseas.

“I saw the protests in Hong Kong and they gave me ideas about how we could defend ourselves,” said Thu Thu, whose small frame belies a capacity to endure gruelling confrontations with security forces.

She has been protesting against military rule since February 6 and is increasingly convinced that the people need protection from the lethal force police and soldiers used against striking dockworkers in Mandalay on February 20, when security forces fired live rounds on a crowd of more than 1,000 demonstrators at a shipyard, killing two and injuring dozens.

On February 26, Thu Thu watched a violent crackdown by police on big crowds of protesters at the Myanigone and Hledan junctions in Yangon.

“Police opened fire to disperse protesters, who fled in chaos. Some were arrested. When I saw that, I thought we needed to be able to protect protesters during demonstrations planned for February 28, Milk Tea Alliance Day,” she said, referring to a loose alliance of pro-democracy movements in Thailand, Hong Kong, Taiwan and now Myanmar.

“I posted [these thoughts] on Facebook and one of my friends said she would donate 30 shields. I talked with some of my male friends and we decided to volunteer as frontliners,” she added.

“When we first started posting [about our plan], about a hundred people contacted us [wanting to join]. Members of our group are from many different townships in Yangon.”

Myanmar junta hires Israeli intelligence veteran for international lobbying campaign

Defense Minister Mya Tun Oo retained Ari Ben-Menashe and his Montreal-based Dickens & Madson Canada to “assist in explaining the real situation in the country,” according to a consultancy agreement dated Thursday. The firm is tasked with lobbying Congress and the Joe Biden administration as well as the governments of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Israel and Russia in addition to the United Nations, the African Union and other international organizations and NGOs.

The firm is expected to file a formal lobbying contract with the US Department of Justice early next week, Ben-Menashe said in a telephone interview Friday morning from Myanmar, where he’s wrapping up his second trip in the past few weeks. He said the contract was for a “big amount” but declined to get into specifics.

(Update: Dickens & Madson said the contract with Mya Tun Oo was for $2 million in a Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA) disclosure filed Monday, March 8 with the US Department of Justice. The amount is to be paid “when legally permissible by controlling jurisdictions” since the minister and other military leaders are under US sanctions.

“Within the United States, Registrant will provide advice and counsel to the foreign principal and advocate before the executive and/or legislative branches of the government of the United States to seek support and humanitarian aid for the benefit of the citizens of the Republic of the Union of Myanmar and to strive for the removal or modification of current sanctions,” the lobbying disclosure states. “Additionally, Registrant proposes to provide media and public relations services to further the country’s goals and activities. Registrant also provides lobbying services to the foreign principal in other countries.”)

Ben-Menashe indicated that he plans to present the country’s military rulers as a counterweight to alleged growing Chinese influence in the country under Aung San Suu Kyi, the government leader whose National League for Democracy swept legislative elections in November. The Burmese military declared the elections to be illegitimate on Feb. 1 and deposed Suu Kyi and President Win Myint, sparking international condemnation.

“Aung San Suu Kyi moved toward China while she was in power,” Ben-Menashe said. “And these guys [in the military] don’t like it.”

He added that officials in Saudi Arabia and the UAE had offered to assist with the return of Rohingya Muslims, almost a million of whom have fled to neighboring Bangladesh in recent years amid what the United Nations have labeled a campaign of genocide. Ben-Menashe said he had advised the country’s rulers in the 1990s and warned at the time against having Suu Kyi in the government, claiming she had shown anti-Muslim animus.

“Aung San Suu Kyi as leader was the one who did in the Rohingyas, not the army,” he insisted.

Democratic shadow government taking form in Myanmar

Myanmar’s banking system, always feeble, looks close to collapse. With banking havens for the junta’s finances, namely the US and Singapore, restricting capital flows, the Biden administration’s freeze on $1 billion of Myanmar’s US-held assets and an ongoing national boycott of military-affiliated businesses, the junta’s finances are being squeezed.

All this definitely means the junta’s strategy of carrying on with business as usual has gone out the window and makes large-scale violent escalation likely.

The writers disagree with the view that the disparate Civil Disobedience Movement can win by sheer power of will and personal sacrifice. Look at the numbers: In some ministries, such as health and education, participation in the movement is substantial, with estimates that a third of staff are actively involved. In others, it is much smaller.

Some 600 policemen are said to have defected so far. Overall, the number of Civil Disobedience Movement participants is likely in the tens of thousands, out of a million or so civil servants across the country.

The junta is cracking down hard. Participating civil servants have been suspended by the junta, with some losing their pay and benefits and others potentially charged with treason.

One senior civil servant told us: “I really want to participate in the civil disobedience campaign but I have to take care of my family – we rely on my salary [and] the housing provided by the department.”

One month on, the story of Myanmar’s coup has become a tale of two governments, the junta and the acting administration of the Committee Representing the National Parliament (CRPH), a group of MPs mostly from Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy (NLD) party.

With many of its members including Suu Kyi detained and least one who has died in the junta’s custody, the democratically-elected NLD has been hit hard by the coup.

“We cannot operate as a political party right now. [The junta] seized our leaders… Our party headquarter is closed. But we are trying to connect with our party members,” Phyo Zeya Thaw, NLD Central Committee Member, told the writers.

The CRPH has sought to challenge the junta while running and hiding. It has already announced a public administration program that established local councils led by MPs and loyal local officials to run affairs in Myanmar’s 360 townships in competition with the junta.

Preliminary data from a survey we are conducting on this parallel governance bid suggest that early success is mixed: In parts of the country, the NLD’s grassroots networks have been able to set up structures, in particular in Yangon, Mandalay and Sagaing regions, all part of the NLD’s heartland. In other townships, the junta has the upper hand.

Significantly, the CRPH is now putting itself firmly at the head of the disparate civil disobedience movement. On its website, the CRPH is registering civil servants participating in CDM who it will provide support.

It has also formed an ”acting administration” of acting ministers. They will cover all portfolios of the toppled NLD government until a new unity resistance government is formed.

To form this unity government, the CRPH is competing with the junta in reaching out to both civil society leaders and to ethnic political parties and ethnic armed groups. The success of these overtures may decide the ultimate fate of Myanmar’s coup.

Two other resistance organizations, a General Strike Committee and a General Strike Committee of Nationalities, that sprung up to organize a general strike in February are still organizing protests and strikes independently.

Business revolt brewing in coup-crippled Myanmar

Western business groups, namely European, American, British, Italian and French chambers of commerce, rejected the regime’s invitation to meet on March 4. At the same time, major Asian business groups such as the Thai, Hong Kong, Japanese and Chinese have not released any statements of concern since the coup and lethal crackdown on protesters.

The Western chambers’ refusal comes at a time of widespread and rising condemnation against the regime’s brutal crackdown on unarmed protesting civilians, with more than 50 killed as of March 3, according to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners (AAPP), an independent monitoring group.

Australian business group AustCham Myanmar said on Wednesday it has “serious concern over the increasing use of violence against the people campaigning for a return to democratic Government in Myanmar.”

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

Note

How about the team agreeing to play baseball with Scout for his birthday? Because they always admired how happy and free he looks when he's running. (SniperScout in between if possible would be great)

pushed up in the requests backlog for reasons. team bonding fic is best fic

(warnings for alcohol mention and passing non-graphic cartoonish violence)

“The hell is he so excited about?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over his shoulder towards where Scout was laughing his way down the hall.

“No idea,” the Engineer said, shuffling the deck neatly. “Been all high-energy high-spirits the whole damn day.”

“Unfortunately,” Medic agreed, a little bitter. That garnered several more raised eyebrows from around the table.

“Twice in one day Doktor has to fix broken leg in fighting,” Heavy explained, placing a placating hand on Medic’s shoulder. “And Scout takes many bad risks. Overconfident.”

A questioning noise from within Pyro’s suit. “I’d sure like to know why, as well,” Engie nodded. “Tryin’ out some new energy drink, maybe?”

“High spirits and hubris from consistent victory?” Soldier suggested.

“You’re joking,” Sniper suddenly cut in, glancing around the table, who all looked right back, surprised to hear him cutting in on the usual gossip. “...You lot really didn’t remember?”

A snort from Spy, a vague shrug from the rest of the table.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

A pause, then noises of surprise, shock, and from some of the table, alarm. “A repeat of last year, how very unfortunate,” Spy hummed, taking a sip of his drink.

Pyro shouted something with no small amount of conviction that might have been along the lines of “this is terrible!”. Demo seemed to agree, from the shock on his face, the widening of his eye.

“Oh no,” Heavy rumbled, looking legitimately worried. Medic’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“I can’t believe you,” Sniper deadpanned, glaring at all the other mercenaries sitting there. “First year, you don’t bother wishing him a happy birthday. Second year, he plans a whole damn party for himself so you lot wouldn’t forget again and half of you don’t plan ahead and we get scheduled out on a mission and leave the bugger all alone all weekend. And you promise you won’t forget again. And one year later, here we are.”

Pyro appeared to be in a state of panic, pacing at high speed behind their chair, tugging at various points of their suit in high agitation. The Engineer’s face was largely hidden behind the hardhat and goggles and the hand clamped over the bottom part of his face.

“Perhaps he won’t be upset,” Medic suggested. “We all simply wish him a happy birthday and have drinks.”

“We do that every other weekend,” Demo pointed out. Soldier murmured in the affirmative.

“Sniper has remembered,” Heavy noted, looking at the man in question. “Maybe team helps with plans?”

“I already got him a gift,” Sniper mumbled, fidgeting with his hat. “But I don’t think we’ll manage to pass it off as from the whole team.”

“He’s gonna be so disappointed if he finds out that we forgot again,” Engie sighed, head in his hands. “It’ll break his damn heart.”

“So once again, it seems that I’ll need to step in and save you all,” Spy drawled, putting his glass down and reaching into his jacket, pulling out and unfolding a sheet of paper. “With your collective track record regarding this specific event, I assumed you would all forget again, and so took some steps to ensure that there would be a backup plan when the event arises and we wouldn’t need to deal with moodiness and general malaise from the team for the next several weeks.”

The Engineer took the paper, holding it so Medic could read it at the same time as him, Heavy leaning to try and get a look. Eyebrows began to rise. The paper was passed around the remainder of the table.

“You think this’ll work?” Demo asked suspiciously.

“Obviously. Well, and to be fair, you don’t exactly have any other options.”

He had them there.

“—Just totally can’t believe you talked Miss P into lettin’ us do this that’s just the coolest shit in the world lemme tell ya, like seriously that’s completely nuts and I can’t even believe it, she’s the best—!“

Scout had only stopped talking long enough to breathe over the course of the entire walk from the base to the makeshift baseball pitch that the Engineer had propped up overnight, absolutely bubbling and more high-energy than any of them had assumed to even be possible—even for him. And most of them had anticipated already hating the idea by the time they got to the pitch, but so far things were actually going rather well. The uniforms that had been shipped in (in their team colors, obviously) all fit them correctly and weren’t nearly as embarrassing as expected, in particular since most of them opted to keep at least one part of their usual wardrobe in the mix, such as masks or helmets or hats. Pyro, for one, just put the baseball uniform on over their entire flamesuit, but nobody was particularly surprised.

They crested the little ridge and got a look at the pitch, and for a moment, Scout went silent, eyes wide and mouth agape. Demo elbowed the Engineer to get his attention and flashed a thumbs up, making him grin and fluster a bit, mumbling about how it was nothin’ special, really.

“Alright,” Scout finally said, turning to them with his hands on his hips, taking on an authoritative tone. “So who here knows how baseball works?”

The Engineer and Soldier raised their hands. After a moment, Sniper and Pyro tentatively did the same. Demo made a so-so motion with one hand.

“And who knows how sandlot baseball works?”

Everyone but the Engineer dropped their hands, and even then, he looked a little doubtful.

“Alright,” Scout said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “So we don’t exactly got enough people to make a real team—need twelve for a standard six-players-a-team. So we’re gonna be improvising a little bit.”

He looked around, and started addressing each of them with a pointed finger.

“Heavy,” he said, and the giant raised an eyebrow. “You’re catcher, all you gotta do is stay behind first base and catch the ball so it doesn’t roll away. I know you’re not gonna flinch when you see somethin’ speeding at your head, yeah?”

Heavy nodded thoughtfully.

“Cyclops, first base,” Scout said next. “Fucks with your blind spot the least, and you know how to throw shit. Mumbles, you’re on second, Helmet-Head on third.”

Demo flashed a thumbs-up, Pyro clapped their hands together, and Soldier raised an arm in a sturdy salute.

“Doc, right field. Odds are, none of these chuckleheads are gonna hit anything too far to the left or right of normal, but if they do, you’re like practically as fast as I am and can handle it. Spy, you hang out back there in left field. I know you’re probably not gonna catch shit if it comes at you, but hey, it’s worth a shot and you won’t gotta deal with much anyways.”

Medic nodded at the compliment and Spy raised an eyebrow at the insult.

“And Snipes, you’re the pitcher,” Scout concluded, hands returning to his hips.

There was a snort from Demo. Sniper elbowed him.

“Figured you know how to throw shit and won’t straight up brain anyone,” Scout continued, not noticing the squabble. “And I’ll be first up to bat, and we’ll cycle through everyone in that same order, starting as soon as you guys can stop me from running all the bases, then we’ll play normally from there, how’s that sound?”

“You’re sure talkin’ yourself a big game there, son,” the Engineer observed, eyebrows raised.

“Damn right, I’ve been playin’ this shit since I was three,” Scout said, grinning wide. “This is gonna kick ass.”

Indeed, the first eight pitches went by in pretty rapid succession. Two because they fumbled and hesitated and miscommunicated in their pitching and couldn’t beat him to the bases, two after that as Scout scored home runs, another general fumble, another home run, one where the ball landed a few feet away from Spy who outright didn’t attempt to catch it, only kicking it closer to Medic as he rushed up to get it, and then one where Scout didn’t notice until he was back at home base that Soldier had unintentionally thrown the ball directly into the side of Pyro’s head (who was distracted by drawing shapes into the dirt at their feet).

They just barely managed to get him out on third, and then it was Demo’s turn.

Overall, by the first circuit through the whole team, they were surprised to find that they were actually having fun, even and especially with the odd shenanigans that ensued during the course of the game. There was one point where Soldier full-body tackled Demo at first base (just slightly confused about a few of the contact rules), and another where Sniper thought it would be funny to throw a hard ball of clay from at his feet, sending the team laughing as it exploded all over Pyro’s suit and they needed to stop to wipe the lenses on their mask clear. Demo surprised all of them with the first bunt of the game, and the Engineer with sending the ball soaring nearly into a homerun, with him sheepishly asking if using the Gunslinger to swing was allowed after he’d already run the bases. Then there was Pyro calmly stealing their way to third after the team thought their turn was over, and Heavy accidentally cracking the bat, and Medic absolutely eating shit as he tried to take off towards first. And nobody for sure knew how to react to the one time that Spy actually caught the ball, all but diving to catch it and send it to second just in time to get Soldier out. And of course, all of them were left just slightly in awe as Scout sent home run after home run sailing towards the stratosphere.

They finally had to stop when it was getting dark and Heavy informed them that they didn’t have any more baseballs left in the bucket for all the ones sent sailing far foul or off into the distance with a homerun. Soldier and Demo promised to go pick them up the following day and they all began their trudge back to base, covered in the bright orange loam of the desert and already slightly sore and feeling like they were in much higher spirits than any of them had expected. Scout, most of all, seemed... contented. Not just cheerful, not just bubbly, but contented, satisfied. Happy. He seemed so very happy.

Several of them, glancing around between themselves, considered telling Scout the truth, that they hadn’t put in nearly as much work as he thought they did. But most of them just settled in for saying happy birthday a few more times over assorted bottles of booze and maybe even a movie.

Sniper, for one, was a little fidgety on the way back to base. Halfway there, he took Scout by the shoulder, pulling him to slow down just a bit.

“Had, er,” Sniper said once they were a good few meters trailed behind the team, eyes averted. “Heavy said we were out, but. Had, er. Had one ball left.”

He pulled the baseball in question out of his pocket, unfolded it from the handkerchief it was in, passed it over, a little sheepish. Scout took it, confused, turning it over in his hands.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the team slowed and turned as they realized two of their party weren’t with them. Scout’s mouth was agape.

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD—“ Scout babbled suddenly, eyes widening, practically starting to vibrate in place. “—is this a real actual serious legitimate gen-u-ine real signature? Snipes please tell me you’re not fuckin’ around right now ohmyGOD.”

“Nah, yeah, from the actual bloke,” Sniper agreed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yats-rem-key, something like?”

“Only just jersey number eight, left fielder for the Boston Red Sox, five-time All-Star four-time Gold Glove winner and three-time batting champion, Triple Crown winner and overall MVP in the entire American Major League of baseball, Carl Michael motherfuckin’ Yastrzemski!”

Sniper faltered under the sudden weight of the entirety of Scout as he was all but tackled in a hug, Scout continuing to babble excitedly on about the man whose signature was on the baseball in his hands. There was a general chuckle and rolling of eyes from the team as they watched the scene unfold.

“And we’re sure Sniper’s not the catcher, then?” Demo asked lightly, and with Sniper not there to elbow him, the Engineer took his place, making Demo snicker.

“If you would please cease embarrassing yourselves,” Spy called over after giving them a solid minute, which made Scout look up and apparently notice the entire team looking at them, flushing red and promptly trying to pretend he didn’t just do all that. “I believe that Heavy has prepared some kind of cake and I for one would rather not eat it after Pyro has covered it in candles and torched them all.”

Indeed, Pyro by then had a good head start on the team, who all hurried to catch up. And they all bumbled their way through at least five nationalities’ rendition of a Happy Birthday Song, and each very nearly got through their slice before the first scrap of the night began and the rest of it was lost in the mayhem, and overall, Scout would remark the next day through the haze of his hangover that actually, that was easily one of his favorite birthdays in a long time.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #(it's like. passing at best. could be read as platonic probably)#shut up me #everybody talks #my fanfiction #dad!spy if you squint #birthday's in half an hour and im excited!! should be fun!!

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laufire · 3 years

Text

I wanted to post my sortings (following the Sorting Hat Chats model) of two of my Supernatural faves (I agree -at least for now; there’s too much content lol- on Castiel as a Lion Badger, so this would complete the set), so here it is.

Ruby

I think she could constitute a complicated case to sort, because we only see her real face in her damn last scene lol. What she did before that was put up a front explicitly to manipulate Sam.

She screams Exploded/Blinded Lion primary to me. She’s ALL about The Cause, aka freeing the demons, to the exclusion of everything, and she’s willing to use anybody, herself included, as a tool to achieve it; see offering her very body and blood for the cause (to Sam, to Alastair). She does all this with purpose, determination, and even joy, because it’s all to fulfill that goal.

Her secondary could be Snake; it’s useful for spies and double agents, and she’s playing a part for almost the entirety of her run. But she strikes me more as a Bird secondary. Her play is not improvised, it’s a long con. She definitely fits the traits of researcher and collector (her witchcraft). She’s an strategist more than a fluid pantser, basically. To go with the handy door metaphor: she sees a locked door and she goes through her box of keys until she find the right one (i.e., the way she presses Sam). I also think there’s a relief in her shedding the mask that responds to someone that’s carefully maintained a painstakingly constructed cover, instead of someone with ease to play different roles on demand.

I’d have to rewatch her cameo in 15x13 again (yes, I saw it as soon as I heard she appeared), to see how it fits. At first it’d appear that the Empty took a toll on her: she tells Castiel where to find what he’s looking for on the promise of helping her get out. Later it turns out she omitted that Hellhounds were waiting for them -I’m guessing that wouldn’t have been too bad for Castiel, but it would’ve for the brothers lol. Does she have plans if Castiel makes good on his promise? Is it a personal revenge on the brothers for killing her? For ending the cause? Is she thinking, well they’ll probably succeed but there’s no reason for me to make it easy for those assholes? Does she simply find the idea funny? I’ll have to think about this xDD, but these options don’t feel like a contradiction of the above, so.

Speaking of Sam: I think that in order to appeal to him, she presented herself as a fellow Snake Lion. She empathized her past as a human to connect to him (“I know what it is to lose someone too”), she talked about not wanting to come in between the ~brothers’ precious bond (trololol), and she showed herself ready to help him and later even for Dean for who they were, like when she told Alastair she’d give him Anna if he left her leave with the brothers (which means she not only presented herself like this to Sam, but that she used this persona for everyone. Something that again, says more Bird than Snake to me). And she did it by making big Lion moves like being ready to sacrifice herself for the brothers’ cause in “Jus in Bello”, rescuing Sam from the Deadly Sins, fighting her old coven leader, etc.

So to summarize: I think she’s a (Blinded) Lion Bird, aka The Vigilante. That moniker strangely fits her: “self-appointed doer of justice”. Just, you know, for an unpopular side xDD. And her presentation as a Snake Lion is called The Rebel, which I think is very fitting.

Bela Talbot

I thought a lot about it, and I came to the conclusion that she feels like a Burnt Snake primary. It’s partially through a process of elimination: none of the other feel right for her, at all. She’s not at all an Idealist primary IMO, ruling out Lion and Bird. That means she’s a Loyalist... except she has absolutely nobody to be Loyal too, and it seems she never had. Her cat appears for one (1) brief moment and that seems to be her closest relationship ffs :( (the cat warns her when burglars like Dean come to steal lol).

That leaves Badger or Snake, and I think Snake fits better. She is more internal than external/group oriented, decided, definitely gives that ~lose with morals impression. @missbrunettebarbie has a post about how Burnt Snakes might also be likely to get attached to material things, to compensate, and I think that fits her and other Burnt Snakes I’ve identified or written myself.

Other than the lack of an inner circle that fulfills that need for her, I think another reason that she’s Burnt is the sentence to Hell she’s been living with for a decade. Snakes put a lot of value in freedom, and she’s doomed to end up the eternal prison. She’s lonely and disillusioned. She repays with money or favors, and she doesn’t truly connect with anyone, and knowing her expiration date -something that’d encourage said lose morals- wouldn’t help there. Why bother. In particular I think this makes her come across as a Young Snake: not caring about consequences or people, hedonistic, prioritizing instant gratification, etc. (which makes me think about how people can get stuck on the age development of a huge trauma. I’m even sadder about her primary now -Burnt primaries already make me prone to ~protectiveness).

Her Snake secondary was clearer. I could entertain Bird secondary, given her taste for collecting obscure objects to help her in her job and how much she’s clearly researched and learned about the supernatural. But she’s definitely more of an improviser. She’s extremely adaptive and thinks on the fly, like how she pretended Dean and her had been having sex in the room to stop a security guard from coming. Her wins are more about opportunism than about planing: inserting herself in Bobby’s rescue mission to steal the Colt, stealing the tickets from Dean. And of course, one can’t ever forget, she was introduced to the show in disguise (a clearly quickly improvised one, at that). She also takes extreme joy in these games, which I think it’s what Dean (who I personally see as a Snake secondary too) responded to in her.

So in conclusion: Bela is a Double Snake, with an immature and Petrified primary, aka The Trickster (this description, perfectly apt for her, obviously reminds me of a character with the same title in the show, Gabriel. Who I like don’t get me wrong, -and who on first glance I’d also sort as a Double Snake, btw-, but this makes me even angrier at fandom’s difference of reaction to both characters ¬¬).

#talking to the void #my thoughts #sortinghatchats #sorting hat chats #spn thoughts #supernatural #spnruby #ruby 1.0 #ruby 2.0 #bela talbot #favourites: monster women #favourites: i am the law #favourites: the wordsmith

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cerastes · 3 years

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Oh yeah, been a while since we get an update on tabletop things, what's the CAST looking like nowadays?

Life’s WAY too busy for tabletop right this second so not much has changed, but:

“Lisbeth Elstad” (Alias; real name far more mundane)

Wimp that tries to project a strong image.

Would normally be a shopkeeper in any setting, but circumstance has forced her to undertake adventure instead.

REALLY ill suited to being anything except a shopkeeper, but she’s trying.

Extremely intelligent, not wise in the slightest. A genius when it comes to biology, chemistry, physics and medical sciences, but very naive and full of prejudice as a person. She thinks she’s wise and learned, but she’s really not (she is well-traveled, however).

Alchemist; in a world of magic, it’s one of only two things she can knows how to use, but makes up for it by using her extensive knowledge of chemistry and pharmacology to produce facsimiles of magic, since she can’t use it normally. No need to cast Fireball when you can whip up a vial of napalm and throw it at someone.

Ironically, despite being an Alchemist, she hates money, and will give medical treatment basically for free (her rate is usually “enough to buy something to eat at the nearest food stall”) if she sees someone that needs it, especially if they are not human.

Dislikes humans, feels much more at home with non-humans, despite being human herself.

Just like her “magic”, most everything about her is a facsimile of what she thinks a “cool, strong mercenary” should be like. Name, appearance, way of carrying herself, all fake. Her main “spells” are all reference to the Malebolge, Eighth Circle of Hell, where counterfeiters go. She’s pretty self-aware about it all, really.

Chaotic Good. Genuinely good intentions, but is very socially inept and emotionally immature, so her mood tends to fluctuate a lot.

Long dyed blond hair, silver contact lenses, very tall and lanky, like a noodle or a beanstalk. Wears black suits and a black two-headed wolf pelt because she thinks it makes her cool (though the pelt is actually an important item to her), a completely blank white mask because she has a terrible poker face and doesn’t want everyone around her to know when she’s scared shitless (again, wimp), and a large witch hat because that’s just the culture, baby.

19 years old; another older version of her exists (27 years old) used not in tabletop, but for stories, particularly alongside Glock Elf and her gang. Glock Elf begrudgingly considers her a mentor of sorts, but the reverse is true, as the cynical Ms. Elstad has legitimate respect for Glock Elf’s balls to the walls style of life that’s less about making big enormous machinations and more about throwing flying kicks first and asking questions later.

Rasmus Casper Istre

Swindler, but has the brains and brawn to back it up.

Used to be a phony fortune teller, but picked on a target too dangerous one time and had to leg it, this led him to meet the party and embark on adventure, initially just to put food on the table, later, to uncover a larger conspiracy that put the world at risk.

Good at improvising and coming up with creative solutions, though he’ll often let greed guide his hand and end up incurring more risk than he needs to, both to himself and to his allies, if it means scoring a bit more money.

Rogue; An expert with daggers and very intimate bedfellow to fisticuffs. He is not formally trained in any capacity and is entirely self-taught.

Also known as “Rabbit”; the Gods Of The Land awarded him this title for his cunning, speed, and his trademark ability to look harmless right before you fall into his trap.

Despite his crook-like nature, Rasmus has only the deepest respect for ladies and is not interested in courting anyone except the Elven Priestess that won his heart.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he eventually grew so fond of the party that he basically rejected an offer to betray them that would have set him up for life, saying “I never would’ve had to worry about money ever again in my life, which is neat, but I would’ve had to ally myself with the lowest, most unforgivable piece of garbage in this world had I done that, and I’d have to see his face every morning of my life in the mirror”.

Endgame set-up: A powerful hardened Blacklight Dagger with an enchantment that makes it return to the its owner after being thrown, alongside an evil thunderstorm crafted into a gauntlet, which endowed it with incredible lightning powers, and which gave my DM headaches when I looked at the cursed thunderstorm and asked the DM if I could feasibly capture it and forge it into an item with the several scrolls and artifacts we had that, technically allowed for us to at least attempt it. My DM rocks though so he said yes but I treated him to pizza that night.

One time, Rasmus stole the body of a seemingly invincible hero the party managed to kill and preserved it in salt, and then, with his Half-Orc Barbarian party member and friend, strapped him to the front of a Greatshield to make what we dubbed the Hero’s Corpse Shield, which was practically indestructible and impenetrable because of the hero tied to the front of it.

Chaotic Neutral; initially more interested in profit than anything, and later helping out the party simply because they are his sworn brother and sisters, but doesn’t really care too much about doing right or wrong. His involvement is wholly personal.

Very slightly above average height, short brown hair, stubble, green eyes, slim but toned build, mostly wears leather or chainmail, but one time went around in robes with a sun-looking mask for a while when he became the impromptu leader of a cult, in order to avoid getting executed for maximum heresy (the whole hero’s corpse on a shield thing).

In his 20s. The game in which he was my character is over, but we’re seeing if we Season 2 it because we all fucking loved it a lot.

Fargigoth

Newest addition, so not much out yet.

Half-Orc Artificer. Stole a small field cannon that an army was employing during a battle and uses that as his “cauldron” to shoot things out of it. He’s a BIG lad, so he carries the cannon with his hands.

Once stuffed a Fire Elemental’s corpse in the cannon and threw in a bunch of other garbage, resulting in an explosive shotgun blast of debris, shrapnel and hellfire that sent him flying backwards because, it turns out, cannon recoil hits pretty hard.

Good friends with a female Tiefling Paladin party member.

And combined, they can’t unscrew a lightbulb without putting into motion a Metal Gear Solid-esque conspiracy, unintentionally.

#tabletop ocs

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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

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WHG 15 Post-Games Brains and Brawn Part 7

This happens the day after the interview in Triel’s part 28! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes (also, thanks for Skyler!), @pen-of-roses, and @thoughts-of-nora!

The morning after the interview, there was a knock on my door, and my phone buzzed at the same time. It was Shine. “I’m at your door. Are you ok with me coming in?”

I sat up with a sigh and responded. “Yup.”

They opened the door a few seconds later, and they were smiling. They walked over and sat next to me on my bed, and I was about to send them a text asking what was going on, but they had already started typing, so I just waited.

“So, a few days ago, I discovered that Triel’s phone number was texting Indigo Carmine, and the things that were being texted were things that Triel would send, and the first thing that was sent was a video where Triel burned something that was important to Indigo. So, I decided to take the chance, and I sent her the code. She seemed to recognize it, but she was suspicious. Finally, this morning, she decided to agree to meet up tonight with me. Just in case this is a trap, would you be willing to come with me as a witness so I don’t just disappear?”

I sucked in a breath. Shit, this was too early for this. I could possibly see Triel tonight?

Could I even face her after what happened? I was the whole reason that the crew couldn’t be there to help her. She’d hate me, wouldn’t she? I had only known her for a month. How could she forgive me for letting her crew get hurt?

I shook my head and looked away from Shine, but I texted them. “I won’t be able to. I’ll probably just fuck something up. Sorry.”

I stood up and tried to walk away, but they grabbed my arm and pointed at my phone. When I just tried to keep walking, they stood in front of me and glared until I held up my phone. They typed and sent. “You wouldn’t fuck anything up. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t trust you.”

Shit. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked away from them. “I can’t.” I shoved past them and ran away before they could follow me.

I ended up in the improvised training room, and I immediately proceeded to beat up a training dummy. “Stupid piece of shit. Not good for anything except fighting. All I ever do is fuck things up.” I muttered basically a mantra as I punched and kicked the training dummy. Why would anyone trust me? I was the whole reason everything went wrong.

The door to the training room opened, and Skyler walked in. He looked around, looking a little awkward. I stopped and shook my head to try to clear my thoughts before I looked over at him. “Is everything okay?”

He blinked and stood up straighter. “What, with me?”

I frowned. “Well, in general I guess? If something wasn’t going on, why would you approach me?” Why would anyone care enough about me that they’d just seek me out to hang out? I was just a stupid piece of shit. I never did anything right.

His face fell, and he looked down at the ground and kicked at the base of some equipment. “There’s some stores and stuff down the street. I was wondering if you wanted to check them out.”

Shit. He had actually wanted to hang out with me? Why? I stared at him. “Oh. That sounds great, actually. I’d love to.” That did sound nice. It would certainly be a good distraction. And I’d love to hang out with him.

He smiled, and a smile tugged at my lips too. What could I say? His smile was so genuine and nice that it was contagious. “It’s cooling down so I want to grab my hoodie but then I’ll meet you outside?”

I nodded, smiling back. This would be so nice. I liked being around him. I already had my hoodie on, so I didn’t have to grab anything. “Meet outside in less than a minute, and you’ll be able to insult me the rest of the day.”

“Yeah sure.” He waved it off, but he did check his watch as he left. I grinned a little wider and headed downstairs.

A few minutes later, he walked down, and I smirked over at him. “Two minutes. So close.”

He scoffed and gave me a gentle shove. “So what?”

I pretended to think for a bit. “Well, I suppose I didn’t say anything about what would happen if you lost, so nothing, I guess.”

“Didn’t think that through, did you?” He grinned, holding his head high. “You ready?”

I nodded. This was going to be fun! I just had to push away any other thoughts. “So, what stores are we headed to?”

He shrugged and led the way to the pretty crowded street with all the shops. I grinned and stared at all the shops. There were so many different ones! Food, clothes, entertainment. Everything was here. He spoke. “I don’t know, what looks interesting?”

I grinned. “Maybe a knife store!” I paused and frowned. Shit. “Wait, do either of us have money?”

“Are you asking me if you have money?” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Because I know I do.”

Maybe I put some spare change in my hoodie? I patted my pockets, but there was nothing. “Shit.” What could I do? Oh! “I can steal stuff!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get caught if you do.”

Good. He was enabling me. Still, I wanted to tease him. I huffed. “A gentleman would offer to pay.”

“What made you think I was a gentleman?” Touché. He shrugged. “You can pay me back if you want something.”

He was a good at word sparring too! Awesome! I smirked and nudged him with my shoulder. “Remember, you’re talking to a pirate. Or soon to be pirate. We’re not in the business of paying people back.”

“Then you’ll just have to owe me for next time. Unless you have expensive taste then I can’t help you.”

I smiled, and my eyes landed on a fancy clothes shop, and I grabbed Skyler’s arm and pulled him toward it. “Let’s check out that place!” He just stammered as I opened the door and ran over to the stupid rich shit.

The first clothes rack I stopped at had way too many sequins and were way too colorful and bright. They hurt my eyes just looking at them. I turned over to Skyler, grinning. “Can you imagine people actually wear shit like this?”

He made a face and stuck out his tongue at the clothes. “Wouldn’t be caught dead like that.”

We’ll see about that. I smirked over at him. “How about this? We go through this store and pick out the most hideous outfit we can find, and whoever picks out the worst outfit gets to choose the next store we go to?”

He smirked back. “Deal.”

Oh boy! I dashed off into the store and picked out the best outfit ever. A neon green shirt with flashing lights that spelled out the stylist’s name, highlighter yellow pants with sequins all over them, high heeled sandals with laces that went up to someone’s knees, and a sky blue hat that had been cut in half.

When I met up with Skyler, I almost burst out laughing, but I was able to contain it. He had brought a top that was long enough to be a dress in the front but too short for that in the back and it was patterned with neon animal prints, leggings that looked like actual legs with cheesy tattoos, and super tiny sunglasses.

We decided to try on the outfits the opposite one picked out and to base the worst one on how much the people in the store clapped. Skyler took one look at the outfit I picked, and he cringed. “What the hell is this?”

I laughed, eyeing the outfit he picked out. “I could say the same to you, but yours is so awful it’s almost funny.”

“It’s…something.” He glanced at the changing room. “I’ll go first.” It took a while, but he got everything on and walked out on wobbly legs. He stared at himself in the mirror as the customers and workers “ooh”d and “ahh”d.

He turned to me as I stifled laughter. “I feel like an off brand crayon.”

“Hey, I think you look great.” As a few laughs escaped.

He rolled his eyes. “Well now it’s your turn.” He went to change back, and then I went in to change. When I left the changing room, I rocked the outfit, strutting like a runway model and grinning. And I got way more applause. Ha.

When the other people finally turned back to their own stuff, I looked over my tiny sunglasses at him. “Now, that’s how you show off an outfit. Even a ridiculous outfit like this.”

“Well played.” He crossed his arms with a smile. “But since they liked my pick does that mean I win?”

“Yup.” I went and changed back because that outfit was way too ridiculous to stay in any longer than I had to. When I came back out, I gestured for him to go first. “Lead the way, fearless leader.”

He stood tall and left, and he looked around until he pointed out a shop that had more theatrical stuff, and he turned to me. “Want to look for masquerade stuff?”

Oh shit, that made me think about seeing Triel again. Hopefully I could distract myself in there. I nodded with a laugh. “We should pick out each other’s costumes too.”

He snorted. “Yeah, not after what you picked last time. But I’ll take suggestions.”

I just laughed and followed him in, and I went to the masks first. They were so cool and varied! Skyler stayed nearby, also looking at the masks. “Do you think they always have this many or stocked it just for the event?”

“Honestly, they probably have these all the time. It is the Capitol after all, and what are they if not extravagant?” I picked up a cheetah mask that had the patterning of a cheetah, and the mask’s eye had a see-through cheetah eye over it. It was my favorite animal. “Ooh. I actually like this one.”

Skyler still looked a little uncertain, so I glanced through the other masks until I found one with brightly colored snake scales on it. It was just flashy enough to fit in while not being gaudy. I held it out to him. “I think this looks like you!”

He took it and tried it on, and I stared. It just fit him. Flashy but dangerous. And it looked good on him, especially when the lights hit it because the scales shone iridescent. He…he really was pretty.

My face grew slightly hot, so I looked away a little and opened my mouth to say something, not even sure what, but someone spoke up first. “Ooh! Are you two going to the masquerade?” Two people walked up to us, wearing a ridiculous amount of sequins, as if they had bought out the store we had just been in.

Oh shit. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing in their faces, and Skyler glared at them. He didn’t look like he wanted to say anything, so I spoke up after I stifled the laughs. “Well, actually, my sister’s having a masquerade themed birthday party, and we’re looking for stuff for that.”

The woman pouted. “Aww. That’s too bad. But maybe you could help us pick out masks. What screams pirate to you? We just love Triel, not only because her name just looks like a shortened version of mine, but also because she’s excited about life! And we are too! So, we want to dress up as pirates in her honor. And we know pirates always wore stuff like this.” She gestured at her outfit, but I was barely paying attention anymore. Triel. How the hell could I look her in the eyes again? Would it be better just to run away? It probably would be better because then I wouldn’t be bothering anyone else then.

The woman said something else, and Skyler snarled and said something. I finally focused back when the woman spoke again. “Oh, that’s a good idea! What mask should we wear?”

Okay. I could get them the hell away from us. I grabbed some ugly masks and shoved the masks at them. “Here.”

They took them and walked off, talking and laughing. I took a deep breath and turned back to the masks, putting up the cheetah mask. I tried to keep my voice lighthearted. “For some reason, I’m not that interested in looking at masks anymore.”

Skyler nodded. “Well we’ll have to wear more than a mask anyway.” He walked over to other clothes, and he glanced back at me.

I nodded and followed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Triel. She should hate me for what happened. I was the reason everything was messed up. What could I even say to her when I saw her again?

He touched some items with a smile, still looking over at me. “We could surprise each other again, this time with our own outfits.”

I shook my head to help push away the thoughts. Nothing I could stress over now. I smiled a little. “As long as you don’t choose anything piratey for me. That’s not really a costume then.”

He snorted. Rude. “I already said I don’t trust your taste. I mean we reveal our own outfits to each other.” He smirked and flicked my shoulder, and I had to smile back. “See who does it best.”

I laughed a little. “You’re going to be so jealous when you see the awesome outfit I choose that you’ll wish that I chose your outfit.” I winked and ran off.

They had plenty of nice clothes set out for the masquerade, and I searched through the dresses first, but I didn’t find anything that I liked. So, I moved on to the suits. And there was a nice, dark blue suit with a lavender shirt. Then I found some practical, dark blue boots that were the same shade as the suit, and then I went back over to the masks and chose a mask that mimicked the waves. It was pretty damn good.

I changed into the outfit while Skyler waited. I walked out, without the pomp and circumstance of last time.

He blinked and stared at me. “You look watery.”

Wow. I snorted. “That’s the best compliment you can come up with?” I paused, thinking. “Wait, is that even a compliment?”

“Depends on how you take it.” He had a lighthearted tone, but he dropped it when he gave me a more genuine smile and a nod. “It suits you though. You look nice.”

Wait, what? Nice? I…I looked nice? Really? Was he sure? Uh, what did I say to that? “Well, thanks. I think I’m gonna go change now. I need to see your outfit anyway.” I grinned over at him and got changed, but my face was getting a little hot again. He really thought I looked nice?

When I got out, he had already left to get changed, so I had time to make sure my face wasn’t flushed anymore. Just in time for him to peek around the corner and lock eyes with me before he walked out. His suit was dark, but in the light, there were shimmers of blue-ish scales. He went with knee-high heeled boots that were also dark with the shimmering scales, and the shirt under his jacket was red. He even had red gloves. And he had chosen the mask I had pointed out to him. Holy shit. He was really good at picking out outfits. My face got hot again.

To hide my flushed face, I grinned and adopted a snobbish voice. “I love how you incorporated the mask into your repertoire.” I couldn’t keep that going for long, so I snorted and spoke normally. “I just think it’s amazing. And the heeled boots…” I cocked an eyebrow. “You chose those because you want to be taller than me, I bet.”

He didn’t look so nervous as he walked over to me, taking wobbly steps. “Of course, could barely hear you down there.” He waved dismissively. “I thought I’d try it out.”

Before I could even think about what I was going to say, the words slipped out. “It’s a good look on you. I might not mind you looking down on me this one time.” And then my face got really hot. Shit. What the hell was I saying? That was a Triel line.

He opened his mouth a few times before any words came out. “Thanks.” And he just went back and changed into his normal clothes. I was almost thankful for that. I didn’t really want to address what I had said either. That was too embarrassing.

When he changed back into his regular clothes, and I had gotten rid of my blush, he walked back over to me and held out his hand for my clothes. Aw. He really was going to buy it for me?

I laughed and handed my outfit over to him, trying my hardest not to think about how he had looked in his outfit. “On my word as a pirate, I’ll pay you back.”

“I thought you said it went the other way around.” He sounded annoyed, but in an exaggerated way. But he just went and paid for everything.

I smirked at him when he was done. “That’s the mystery, isn’t it? Will I actually pay you back because of my word or will I not because of the fact that I’m a pirate? Only time will tell.”

Skyler walked out of the store and started walking back toward the apartment. “As long as you don’t throw me into the sea or whatever it is pirates do.”

“Nah. I’ll just make you wear the sequined mess that those two thought had something to do with pirates instead.”

He stuck his tongue out and faked gagging. “Yeah, just throw me into the ocean. It’ll be less painful.”

I just laughed, and we headed back to the apartment. Right when we got there, I ran for my room and grabbed enough money to pay him back, and I gave it to him. He was such a good friend, I couldn’t be a pirate to him.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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You'll Never See It Coming, 1/? (Jaida/Nicky/Jackie) - Viktor

Summary: Jaida and Jackie are two private detectives, with the objective of taking down a mysterious thief that has been bugging them for a year now.

A/N: As someone who writes Jaida a lot on his blog, it was about time I dropped one of my Jaida works in here! I really hope you like this, I got really attached to this AU haha! You can find me in my blog @theviktorr if you want to see more! Enjoy <3

The sun rays were starting to sneak inside of Jaida’s room, filling the open spaces of the semi-closed blinds.

Jaida hated sleeping with light. It was almost tempting to get up, close the blinds properly, and tuck herself back in her bed. However, she had work to do. And the annoying beeping of her alarm clock made sure to keep her awake, as the brightness from her phone blinded her for a few seconds when reaching to turn the shit off.

She stepped off her bed, running one of her hands across her messy hair and rubbing her eyes with the other. It was just 7:30, and she had a lot of work to do. She put on her slippers and got herself comfortable with her favorite robe, sighing at the sudden warmth she got from them. She finally opened the blinds, letting the sunlight illuminate her bedroom. It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it was big enough to be comfortable in it. She looked outside the window for a spare second, smiling at the potted flowers on the window sill. They were perfectly cared for, Jaida swore she could almost smell their perfume. Her roommate was really talented, huh?

Jaida finally got out of her bedroom, her senses overwhelming with the smell of dust and old books, which she found not-so-oddly anymore, after all the years spent surrounded by it. After all, being around secondhand bought books, piles of yellow toned documents and tables stained with melted wax made her feel all sorts of happy; she felt more at home than she ever did with her blood family. She quickly noticed that the signature scent of her housemate’s coffee wasn’t there. And knowing that trails of her partner’s coffee were always left, even after drinking it hours ago, she figured her friend was still asleep, and Jaida couldn’t blame her for it.

It wasn’t even necessary to go to her bedroom to confirm it. She only had to look around to find her partner sleeping in the living room, accommodated with her head resting on top of her arms, which were laying on top of their old wooden table, and her favorite golden glasses were thrown across the table. She was calm, her breathing seemed slow and steady. When did she even go to sleep…? She did tell Jaida that she wanted to stay up a little longer, that she thought she was finding some useful information within these books she borrowed from their local library. She probably got caught up on her reading again and fell asleep after some hours. Jaida smiled, tucking a strand of her friend’s brown hair behind her ear. She took off her robe, gently setting it on top of the older woman’s shoulders, and silently left the living room, heading to their small kitchen instead.

Now, Jaida’s coffee wasn’t as sweet and tasteful as her partner’s, she didn’t know the secret behind the flavour she enjoyed so much during their typical breakfast, but she tried her best to make it appealing for her. She took the time to make pancakes and toast some bread, choosing her friend’s favorite marmalades. She cleaned up the table, if we could consider “cleaning up” moving and piling papers to a corner of the table, and served the improvised breakfast while the woman still slept peacefully. And when the last mug was finally left on top of the wooden surface, she sat down by her side, softly squeezing her shoulder to wake her up.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” She smiled at her, only getting a groan from her partner, who raised her head slightly, and then buried it between her arms again “Jackie, you have to wake up… I made you breakfast, come on.”

Jaida rubbed her hand on Jackie’s back, with the woman slowly waking up and stretching a little on her seat. She turned around after finally opening her eyes and getting comfortable, gifting Jaida one of her adorable smiles.

“Morning…” She yawned. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Now eat, we have a long day coming.”

Even if Jaida could sound cutthroat sometimes, Jackie knew it came from a place of love. She took a sip from her coffee, getting adjusted to the heat, and after asking Jaida to hand her the glasses she left on the other side of the table, she eyed yesterday’s newspaper, giving another look at the words she highlighted in neon yellow last night. It was crystal clear that Jackie hardly got any sleep, she had dark bags underneath her eyes and she couldn’t stop yawning, even if the coffee was keeping her slightly more awake.

Jackie meant the world to Jaida. Both of them were private detectives, and undoubtedly had chemistry. They worked amazingly together, and have managed to solve so many mysteries with their shared thoughts and intellect. They made a good name out of themselves with their efficiency and hospitality towards both newer guests that were just starting to work with them, or old acquaintances that trusted their methods so much they always came back to them. They moved together only months after they started working as a pair, buying an old small house that smelled like dust and looked like history. They remodeled it, of course, with Jackie adding all sorts of flowers and plants to make it look alive. Jaida even remembered that her favorite flowers were marigolds and sunflowers; and even if Jackie was sad she couldn’t plant any sunflowers, she bought fake ones and made sure everything was decorated. She even handpainted pots in their free time; she wanted the house to have her creative touch to it. And she did it, because Jaida had never been happier.

However, their happy days ended exactly one year ago, when they were approached with the mission of capturing a mysterious person that called themselves ‘la voleuse fantôme’, a thief that was after the richest people she could find. And they still couldn’t find her. They even admired her talent to escape them, two of the most renowned detectives in America. But they couldn’t give up yet. They had to capture her and get her in jail for her crimes, this had already gone too far. Whoever she was, they would need to step up their game if they didn’t want to be discovered, because Jaida and Jackie were sure they had her in the bag this time around.

“Have you checked the mail, Jaida?” Jackie inquired.

Jaida didn’t answer. Well, she did, by standing up and going to their porch to check if there was anything new. And within cards signed by Jackie’s best friend, Sasha, or postcards from Heidi, Jaida’s little sister, she noticed that there was something that stood up between all their usual mail. It wasn’t odd to them, the red envelope was already a normal thing for them to see. It was the thief, she knew it. They looked so extra, sending bright red envelopes to their house and, as far as they’ve seen them, dressing like a caricature, with a big white hat, a checkered cape and the most expensive masks Jaida and Jackie had ever seen.

The younger detective went back to the dining table, sliding the colorful letter across the wood and letting Jackie have the honors of opening it this time. She carefully did it, unfolding the paper inside it and reading the thief’s disgustingly perfect handwriting. Jackie cleared her throat and started to read the content, feeling how shaky her hands were as she got towards the end of it.

“Good morning, detectives.

You two are so much fun! It’s already our one year anniversary of you guys chasing after me and failing miserably. And to celebrate, I prepared my best show just for you!

I’ll show up at Gigi Goode’s masquerade ball next Sunday. What will I steal, you may ask? Well, that’s simple…

I’ll be taking grandma Goode’s crown that has been passed on for the last generations.

I wonder how it’ll look on my head when I wear it.

See you guys next Sunday!

With love,

La voleuse fantôme.”

Oh, so it was at Gigi’s place this time.

Fuck.

Knowing they were good friends with the Goode family, especially their future heir, a young girl known as Gigi, failing at capturing the thief would mean that they would serve both of their heads in a platter and show it to everyone during their massive reunions. Jaida got chills down her spine at the thought of that. It was scary, yes, but it motivated her to catch the thief. Not only catch her, but also throw her behind bars once and for all. She wanted to get rid of her already and keep living her normal life with Jackie, resolving simpler murders or investigating nannies for old women who wanted the best for their kids. As much as she loved the thrill of this ‘voleuse fantôme’ lady, she really wanted a break and a very well-deserved nap.

She looked back at Jackie after a moment, noticing the nervousness in the Persian’s eyes, and carefully grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing it. She looked back at the brunette, and after a short sigh, managed to give her one of the confident smiles Jaida liked so much from her. She could see the motivation behind those golden eyes, there was a fire in them that Jaida couldn’t even explain. She was ready to do it. And seeing that look from Jackie gave her that little boost of confidence she needed. She was ready, they were ready.

“This time around, I’m sure we’re gonna get them.”

#rpdr fanfiction #jaida essence hall #jackie cox #nicky doll #jackie x jaida #jaida x nicky #lesbian au #detective au #phantom thief au #you’ll never see it coming #viktor #concrit welcome #s12 #rare pair

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

The Search for Halloween Chapter 3: Dragon + Cheap Costume

Continuing in their quest to learn about Halloween, the gang goes out to buy costumes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 (Final)

@unusual-october

Read on Ao3. My ko-fi. Enjoy!

The art of this chapter by @noanieactuallydrawingalot

Marinette looked at herself in the full body mirror one last time. She tugged nervously at her skirt as her eyes roamed over every inch of her outfit. Everything needed to be as perfect as she could make it.

“Marinette,” Tikki said from just over her shoulder. “You look fine, but you will always find flaws if you look for them. Besides, you guys are just hanging out today, right?”

“I know, but…” She trailed off, her hands falling her sides.

But what? Her relationship with Adrien was better than ever, she could usually talk without stuttering now that she understood that underneath his cool exterior was a huge dork with a love of cat puns. When they were together, she felt at ease and she knew he felt the same way. It was just like it always had been when they were wearing the masks. But this build up, the moments where she was getting ready to see him… her heart fluttered and she felt like her nerves would be the death of her.

“Trust me. The hardest part is getting started.” Tikki rested on Marinette shoulder. “Just put one foot in front of the other. You’ll get there eventually!”

Scratching the top of her kwami’s head, Marinette said, “Thanks, Tikki. I think I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Let’s head downstairs while we wait.” She held open her purse and watched Tikki fly inside.

While she was going down the stairs, she checked the group chat. Apparently, Adrien was about to leave and he’d have the Gorilla swing around with the limo to pick everyone up. All she had to do was be ready to go when he got here…

...And since she was already ready, all that was left for her was waiting. Which did nothing for her frayed nerves.

Marinette was pulled out of her spiralling thoughts with the delicious smell of the pumpkins that they had carved a couple days ago. Which was surprising, since there were only two pumpkins still here and both of them were perched on her balcony outside. She followed the scent to the living room, and a platter of baked seeds between her parents.

She said with a frown, “You guys actually like those things?”

Her mom, who had been watching Tom play against his akumatized self in Max’s video game, looked over her shoulder at Marinette.

“Sweetheart, you ate plain, unseasoned seeds. Of course you didn’t like them!”

While Marinette winced at the slightly chastising tone (she really should have known that), she looked dubiously at the plate that was stacked high with baked pumpkin seeds. Admittedly, they smelled a lot more appetizing this time around.

“Go on, dear. Take some!”

Deciding to trust her parents, she tentatively took a single seed and had a bite. She relaxed as she took in the flavor. Much better than their attempt had been.

“Just in case you do this again, we used olive oil, salt, garlic powder, paprika, and black pepper.” Her mom took the plate back. “Now, you’d better save your appetite. I’m sure your friends will want to go out to eat today.”

Before she could reply, her phone buzzed. Her eyes widened at a text from Adrien saying that they were all outside.

With a quick goodbye to her parents, Marinette rushed out, anxieties forgotten as the Halloween spirit began to take hold.

----------------

The four of them quickly spread through the little costume shop, searching for suitable outfits for weekend plans. Alya was a couple rows away from Marinette when she heard her call out.

“Oh! Hey, Alya, I think I found something you’d like.”

Alya tracked her down to see Marinette holding up one of those old-style medieval princess outfits. The ones with the tall cone hat and a ribbon that trailed out from it. In this case, the dress was a glittery pink and the trailing ribbon was a baby blue. To put it simply, it was Marinette in dress form.

“You and Nino could be a matching knight and princess! It’d be so cute!”

A switch flipped in Alya’s head, a basic plan coming together.

“That’s awesome, M, but Nino already has his heart set on a minstrel costume,” Alya said. It technically wasn’t a lie, but she knew if she wanted to, she could definitely convince him to do the matching outfits. “But hey! What about you and Adrien do that!”

Marinette paled a little, which could almost be ignored with how her cheeks blushed. “I don’t know, Alya…”

Adrien poked his head around the corner. “Did someone say my name?” His eyes widened when he saw the dress Marinette was holding. He grinned. “Is that what you're going to be wearing?” He gasped, covering his mouth. “You’ll be so adorable! Can I be the knight? Please?”

“I… um… sure?” Marinette struggled to keep the costume from being crushed as Adrien hugged her close and spun her around. She failed to hold in a squeak, though.

Shaking her head with a smile, Alya moved a row over, where her boyfriend was browsing more outfits.

Nino tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “Huh.”

“What’s up, babe?”

“I thought were we costume shopping, but it looks like you were just costume shipping.” He grinned at her and she gently elbowed him in the side.

“You’ve been hanging out with sunshine too much. His punning has gotten to you.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” he said as he kissed her temple.

---------------------

The next few days passed by pretty quickly and the gang found themselves at a Renaissance Faire that Nino had discovered while they were carving pumpkins. It was as good an excuse as any to get dressed up in costumes, and at least they weren’t getting weird looks for it.

Well, they weren’t just yet anyway. If the glint in Adrien’s eyes was anything to go by, they would be getting plenty soon enough.

“Uh, you okay there, Sir Centerfold?” Alya watched him warily. He’d really gotten into his role as Marinette’s knight in shining armor, a situation that Marinette was just as enthusiastic about. No surprise there, since it entailed him keeping an arm around her at almost all times and making loud declarations of fealty and love.

If they didn’t figure out where their relationship was after this, Alya was going to lock them in a room somewhere until they did.

She followed where he was looking, her eyes widening as she saw what had caught his attention. There was a booth labeled ‘The Dragon’s Cave.’ Pay a few euros and you can have your picture taken with the ‘dragon'. Right now, a few kids were ambling away from the ‘fearsome beast’, leaving a clear opening for…

Oh no.

Adrien strode past her, drawing his homemade sword from its scabbard as he did so - apparently the costume didn't come with one, so he had to improvise.

“Back, foul beast!” Adrien cried as he brandished a wobbling tin sword at the dragon. Or, at least, a man in a very poorly built dragon costume. One that left his face - and therefore his annoyed expression - on full view for everyone to see.

Alya pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. She glanced over to Marinette, but she was too busy dying of laughter to be of any help. Surely calm, chill Nino would- no... no, he was frantically strumming his lute, a goofy look on his face as he backed up his best bud in his ‘fight’ against the ‘dragon’. Alya put her hands to her face, partly in embarrassment, but partly to hide the grin that was threatening to break free.

And here she was, having worried that her bar wench outfit would be too silly.

No, leave it to her friends to reach maximum silliness all their own.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Adrienette #Alya Cesaire #Nino Lahiffe #DJ Wifi #Unusual October #ml fanfiction #my writing #The Search for Halloween

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grayisholi · 5 years

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@ the DND ask game: ALL OF THOSE QUESTIONS, I CAN'T CHOOSE!! XD (or if not that, the ones you rlly wanna do!!

BOY OH BOY OH BOYIve been answering these throughout the day and I’m too lazy to reread the full document so sorry if I’ve left gaps or whatever but here it is! All 35 questions about dnd! Matt you unstoppable Madman.

1. A favorite character you have played.

You can’t just make me pick between my children!!! I think I might have to say Atticus Sallow, my faeborn bloodhunter, partially because he’s like 100% homebrew content which I LIVE for, but also because he’s probably the most kinda self-insert character I’ve ever played? Almost became the kinda angsty, brooding asshole character before he was like “get your shit together” and learned that loving people isn’t so bad.

2. Your favorite character that someone else has played.

I almost, ALMOST had the pleasure of DMing for @no-more-good-omens and their character was gonna be SO RAD and I’m a little heartbroken he never came to be. A half-drow paladin of Vecna, pretending to be your typical good and wholesome paladin? Dude, I love that kinda two faced backstabbing in a player. It’s such a shame it never came to anything (although if yall still wanna play hmu ;))

3. Your favorite side quest.

Ooh, there’s been so many good ones. Probably when i was playing as Adrian Smirks and went off on a tangent to rescue his brother ? That was the first time I ever got to see Adrian’s more raw and emotional side beneath the suave mask he wears and it was fun to explore his character in that way ^.^

4. Your current campaign.

That I’m DMing? It started inspired by Guy Fawkes and was gonna be “your party blows up parliament” but I got bored of following historical accuracy so it ended up being “blow up the palace in a magical city that just happens to be called London”. I accidentally wrote myself into a hole with this campaign tho, so once they’ve finished this arc I’m handing over the DM hat to my sister @philosophical-wanton because she seems to love it and I kinda miss being a player lmao. I can’t wait for it.

5. Favorite NPC.That I’ve written? Probably Hai Shen, the youngest son of a group of circus performers who were killed and the party got blamed for their murder. He had such a great attitude and his dynamics with the party kicked ass. And the twist that he was actually dead the whole time and it was his soul that had stayed behind to help solve his family’s murder? ICONIC.

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

NPC death would probably be Hai Shen, actually. After the party had brought the real killers (A cult to the demon Prince Orcus) to justice, Hai’s time on earth had come to an end. He had really beautiful moment with the party before being reunited with his family. Alternatively, the time I broke my entire party’s hearts? “Artagan’s staff comes cracking into Ellios’ chest, forcing him onto the ground. Artagan raises his sceptre in hand, pointing it menacingly at the young prince. And for the first time, you see him. Like, REALLY see him. He’s not the strong and powerful leader you’ve all come to know him as, he’s not Prince Ellios of the Four Realms. He’s just a boy. A boy who is much too young to be involved in such a grand scheme. And the fear in his eyes. You see the fear he’s managed to keep buried for so long, finally coming to the surface. And then? You don’t see anything, aside from his cold body hitting the ground.” I got punched three times for that moment, but GOD was it worth it.

7. Your favorite downtime activity.

Like in game? A healthy lil bit of vandalising the local law enforcement buildings is always a good time.

8. Your favorite fight/encounter.

Aw man, how can I pick ? I gotta say, that one time we, a level 6 party, managed to take down two earth elementals was pretty rad. The DM kind of expected it to be one of those encounters that we saw and immediately tried to run from, but what she didn’t take into account was that ALL of us had chaotic alignments so we just went crazy. The DM was rolling really badly (thank God) and we were getting really creative (“I use the produce flame centripetal to light my bottle of ale on fire and create a molotov cocktail” “you do WHAT”) and after like an HOUR we won and it was amazing. The rush I got from that victory was better than any drug my dood.

9. Your favorite thing about D&D.

I know I say it a lot, but I legit can’t choose. There’s so many great things about ttrpgs that a lot of people don’t really think of. The creative fulfilment I get from a session is incomparable, the friendships you can build that you couldn’t form in any other way. And like, not to get too real for a sec here, but I grew up with undiagnosed autism and didn’t understand how a lot of social situations worked, and DnD was such a good mechanic for me to try communicating with people without many real world consequences, and I appreciate that experience so much. It’s just such a great thing my dood.

10. Your favorite enemy and the enemy you hate the most.

Can they be the same thing lmao? I mean, I’m obviously partial to Count Cassius, the vampire lord that Adrian slept with lmao. I also always appreciate a good beholder, until I get hit with three disintegration rays IN A ROW.

11. How often do you play and how often would you ideally like to play?

We’ve got kind of a monthly schedule with my main campaign, and I manage to get a couple online games in-between them, but honestly I’d kill to be the kind of group that got together every weekend.

12. Your in game inside jokes/memes/catchphrases and where they came from.

Oh MAN. “I say we do this.” “Yeah, but that’s coming from the guy who decided to tie 3 50ft ropes together to escape the palace.” “iT wOrKeD dIdN’t iT ???” i.e that time I forgot I gave the gnome rogue flying boots so when I planned for them to get arrested at the palace, they managed to escape by tying their ropes together, sending the gnome with it to the top and climbing the wall. I had to improvise the rest of the session. Also “FLINTON BELINDA SKINTON” bc as a role-play exercise I got my party to come up with rumours about their characters and the gnome rogue called Flint AKA Flinton B Skinton decided that one of their rumours was that the B stood for Belinda, and it was GLORIOUS.

13. Introduce your current party.

My current group consists of Flinton B Skinton, gnome rogue. He’s a quick-fingered, silver-tongued gay disaster who can sell anything to anyone. He’s a charming flirt, and a veritable genius in his own right. Kava Daardendrian, dragonborn ranger who loves nothing in life more than her animal companion - her pig Snortin Norton. She’s fun and sassy and shameless, she’s great. There’s Sparks, the fire Genasi Monk, and full embodiment of a disaster lesbian. She drinks, fights, and gets laid, and doesn’t deal with her problems in healthy ways. An icon. And finally Milo, the halfling Bard who falls in love at the drop of a hat and just wants everyone to get along. I call them “The Shenanigang” and I love them.

14. Introduce any other parties you have played in or DM-ed.

A party I joined late? We had Sylvia Moondrop, the half elf sorcerer who was just trying to get along with everyone despite what the world seemed to want. Orland the half orc bard who was just trying to shake off the Barbarian stereotype his family left him with. Rose Morleen, air Genasi fighter who was literally born to kick ass and take names. I joined as Mason Terrai, the Earth Genasi Alchemist with a perchance for explosives. The very definition of chaotic neutral.

15. Do you have snacks during game times?

Of COURSE. What manic wouldn’t ?

16. Do you play online or in person? Which do you prefer?

I used to play online a LOT back before I had friends who were into dnd, but I VASTLY prefer playing in person. The chemistry that’s built not only amongst the players, but also the actual characters themselves is unparalleled. It’s just such a great experience.

17. What are some house rules that your group has?

Anyone can attempt anything, the only restriction is the dice. Don’t question the DM unless it’s out of session, then bully the dm on the groupchat until he’s so pissed off he gives you inspiration just to get you to shut up. And also canon lore and canon rules are bullshit when it’s convenient. That’s about it

18. Does your party keep any pets?

Our ranger, God bless her, has her pack pig Snortin Norton, sold to her by one Flinton B Skinton. And Flint really wants a monkey, he’s been trying to find one for ages.

19. Do you or your party have any dice superstitions?

Not really ? I’m the kind guy that if my dice rolls a 1 I will bench it for a bit, but tbh all my dice are cursed af and I’ve kinda just learned to roll with it by making my characters canonically terrible at everything lmao.

20. How did you get into D&D? How long have you been playing?

Aw man I can’t remember when or how, it’s been so long. I had a couple friends who were kinda into it, but all the games they tried to run were complete disasters. I only really started playing I’m the past year or so? Maybe a little more ? Adrian was my first character, and he was a very RP heavy character in a party of tanks and they all hated him but MAN was it fun.

21. Have you ever regretted something your character has done?

Oh all the time. One time my character was careless and didn’t check for traps on a legendary artefact and it lead to the death of a party member. One time my character got angry at his party and walked out. My characters don’t make good decisions, but that’s part of the fun.

22. What color was your first dragon?

White! I thought it was silver at first and went to go say hi, and it clawed me within half my HP straight away lmao.

23. Do you use premade modules or original campaigns?

Oh dude, original all the way. I live for that shit.

24. How much planning/preparation do you do for a game?

Depends on the session, but usually a good few hours, couple of days if I’m DMing.

25. What have your players done that you never could have planned for?

“You wake up in a mysterious forest. The strained autumn sun shines through the trees. The only thing you can see it each other, the trees, and an old sign post leading to a path that says "Myrrill” on it. What do you do?“ "We walk in the opposite direction of the sign deeper into the forest.” “…of course you do.”

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters.

I wrote a full carnival show one time for them to watch, and then it got derailed when a horrific monster attacked. But writing all the characters and their acts, and watching my players get entranced as I described it ? Magical, my dood.

27. Do you allow homebrew content?

I live and breathe homebrew content. I don’t know what my games would be without it. I LOVE homebrew.

28. How often do you use NPCs in a party?

I make some pretty sick characters if I do say so myself, so I throw them in a LOT.

29. Do you prefer RP heavy sessions or combat sessions?

Oh dude, role play all the way. Fighting and killing stuff is great, but role-play is just so good. We can go from laughing with a bartender to crying over a backstory reveal and it’s just beautiful.

30. Are your players diplomatic or murder hobos?

Depends on the party, but i find the best players are a little bit of both XD

31. What is your favorite class? Favorite race?

Official ? I’m a fan of the hexblade warlock? Bards are always a good call, and to be real playing monks make me feel like an absolute badass. Race wise, there are just so many. If we’re only talking players handbook stuff, half elf is always rad. Outside of that? I’ve been researching the Shadar-Kai lately and I’m LIVING. They’re so rad.

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

What would you call the disaster gay? I don’t really gear my characters towards usefulness in combat, so it’s just whatever the class happens to lend itself to.

33. How do you write your backstory, or do you even write a backstory?

I usually write my character, personality, backstory, alignment etc, before I even pick a class or even a race. I basically just make OCs and apply them to dnd rules, and it’s SO much fun. 10/10, would recommend.34. Do you tend pick weapons/spells for being useful or for flavor?

FLAVOUR. My party usually hates me, but what I lack in combat utility I more than make up for in creative out of combat skill checks XD.

35. How much roleplay do you like to do?

Boi, I even RP my combat, and the great thing is it rubs off on my party too. I’ll have a really low initiative and everyone else will be like “I attack and do 10 points of damage” but then on my round I’m like “I use my staff to leap across the battlefield towards the opponent and launch out with a spinning kick to their jaw” and everyone else is like “oh, okay, that’s what we’re doing.” and the battle becomes so much more dynamic and cinematic, it’s amazing !

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tevotbegotnaught · 5 years

Text

“The conductor…in the power he has over others…it is in his interest as a human being, as well as that of his musical achievements, to resist the temptation to misuse it. Tyranny can never bring to fruition artistic-or for that matter human- gifts; subordination under a despot does not make for joy in one’s music-making. Intimidation deprives the musician of the full enjoyment of his talent and proficiency. Yet I should certainly not want to impugn the employment of earnest severity or even the occasional borrowing of the Bolt of Zeus; the latter if the hand knows how to wield it, can in exceptional situations bring surprisingly good results. Severity is a legitimate even indispensable means of dealing with people...”

Bruno Walter

In my Summer of 42 (years), I was a college freshman…again. With neither Mexican weed nor dormitory hijinks to distract me, I worked through the full Brooklyn College Core Curriculum and a handful of music courses. My degree plan also required an ensemble each semester. When the Assistant Dean interviewed me, he looked over my CV and immediately suggested their Jazz Band. After hearing them, I chose a contemporary music ensemble founded by a composition professor. Fall semester, she was on sabbatical and a trumpet prof, Juilliard guy and veteran freelancer, ran the class. To begin, he sat everyone in a circle and asked us to play “Happy Birthday" in hocket. Most of the class was unsure of the melody and some also thought it a stupid idea. With our nonstandard instrumentation, we massacred Second Viennese School composers for the rest of the term.

Spring term, the founder returned. She was just over five feet tall, brown-skinned, with narrow shoulders and mineshaft dark eyes. When she listened, her head nodded while bottomless eyes fixed on you. Raised in a distressed country, her life moved from prodigy to conservatory-trained professional with impeccable musicianship: piano, score reading, solfege, conducting, improvising, composing. Then, she came to the US, with zero money and English and rebuilt her career from scratch. At BC, she conducted the orchestra until politics pushed her out. Now, she gave composition lessons and led this ensemble.

Our roster still read as spare parts: three singers, three pianists, two flutes, violin, saxophone, clarinet, guitar; some highly skilled, others not. For most, English was a second or even third language. Our professor's first assignment: list your colleagues’ instruments, find pieces for a subset of our forces, select only pieces written after 1960, bring scores/parts for audition.

The following week, we presented our finds. First, someone showed her a John Cage duet. As she turned pages, Maestra’s face went blank .

“Why did you get this?”

A mumbled answer.

Maestra closed the score. “You got eet because eet looks easy. Didn't you? First of all, it’s a short duet. Three, maybe four minutes of music. Nothing to do on a real pro-GRAM. Not serious. Not serious at all.”

More mumbling.

“Get something else. Thank you.”

She jabbed the score into their hands, then addressed the class.

“Nothing about John Cage. John is extraordinary. When you choose music, don’t just take a name you theenk you know. Read the score. You are musicians …supposed to be….”

Next, one of the singers produced a folio. Its font, ornate and oversized. I winced. Maestra saw it was a Puccini aria with piano accompaniment and recoiled.

“After nineteen-sixty? Thees? You are kidding me!”

Again, she faced us.

“Thees is NOT opera work-SHOP. I know some of you did not make it there. I'm very sorry about that. Please find some other music to sing. There are so many good theengs. I hope you will find out. Music does not end with Verdi, Puccini.”

So it went. Gratefully, she anticipated our poor choices and suggested some pieces.

Meastra spoke Spanish to some students, aware of the terrain they navigated and supportive. Jorge, a Mexican pianist, was one of her projects. He was a skilled player, an enthusiastic and warm colleague. His giggle often broke up the class. In our third meeting, we rolled the piano front, Jorge sat on the bench. While he longed for mama's home cooking, he wasn’t missing any meals in Brooklyn. His midsection expanded well beyond his tight-waisted pants, straining shirt buttons. Maestra questioned him on preparation: “you’re playing the second movement, what about the third?”

Unaffected by the prodding, he began to play. A minute in, she said, “stop”.

He continued, eyes closed.

She shouted, “Stop! I’m telling you, STOP"

He looked over.

“JORGE….WHAT…ARE…YOU….DOING?”

It wasn’t meant as a question. Jorge smiled and gently shook his head.

“Why are you smiling? Look at you!”

Her voice leveled.

“This is not ready. It’s better, but it's not ready.”

She shifted.

“I am very worried about you. Look..at…your…STOMACH. You need to take better care of yourself. You know, pianists perform in pro-FILE. Theenk what you show to the audience.”

Jorge wasn't smiling. He put his hand on his belly.

“Everyone should con-see-der an exer-CISE pro-GRAM. I am forty years, Dio mio! Almost FEEFTY years older than some of you. Take care of yourselves.”

She dismissed him with a sweeping gesture.

“Ok, who is next? Anna, where is the list? Geeve it to me!”

Her assistant, a brilliant, tiny, Yankee grad student, always cleaned up.

Maestra partnered Jorge with another pianist for a Gyorgy Ligeti duo. Its ingenious architecture, a complex cycle revealed one beat at a time. In Yogi Berra's construction, half the score was ninety-nine percent rests. The players needed infallible inner time. While they played, Maestra leaned over the piano, right hand supporting her, left turning pages. She nodded her head slightly in tempo. The pianist's hits charged toward and away from each other like Pacman's gobbling goblins.

“You are late!” she slammed her left hand down. They went back. Another hammer blow. Back again. The piece never made it to the program.

At the end of the initial class, she approached me about Milhaud's “Le Creation du Monde", a chamber work for winds, including alto saxophone. We didn’t have the other winds, of course, but a young woodwind quintet, in residence for the year, would help out.

“Le Creation" story moves from brooding chorale to a raggy bolero where the winds pass around jumpy tunes, then strut them all, polyphonically, in a joyous finale.

At the first of four rehearsals, we were less than half personnel. Maestra had been enthusiastic about the quintet, encouraging us to meet, hear and study with them. But they were collaborating with major artists and appearing all over the world. Their residency, now in name only. No one in the group even bothered to return her emails. Our conductor was livid. (Later, the assistant assured us that Maestra never returned emails, either.) In rehearsal, the music just marked time. In long stretches with no tune and no landmarks, I fell into a hole and missed my entrance.

“What are you DOING! Counting! Count-ting! I can’t do everytheeng for you.”

Concert day was the first we all sat down to play. In the midst of my disciplined colleagues, I was a bellowing hippo. During the chorale, my slow descending notes were either out-of-tune, out-of-time, the wrong dynamic, or all three.

The baton came down hard “NO..NO..NO. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

“How can you be late. It's jazz. Jazz! You play jazz? Right? You know who is John Col-TRANE? Play it like Col-TRANE! Why should I have to tell YOU this. Come on!”

I wore other hats that night: soprano, clarinet. Still, my mind remained fogged through the Milhaud finale.

The quintet players all demolished their solos. With a huge smile, Maestra gave each well-deserved bows. When they were done, she flashed her eyes at me, scowling. Then, jerked both her hands upwards, like she was flipping a pool toy. I stood up and stared straight down.

Next semester, a composition student brought a score. It was mostly squiggles and arrows, notation designed to move the music forward without defining functional harmony or conventional melody. She conducted a circle for each “bar”. We could gauge the length of each gesture and respond in time. Simultaneously, she sang the gestures using their pitched start/end points, conducted, turned pages and offered substantive commentary. If one of us was even a second late, her glance immolated them.

I became friends with some of her students. Waiting outside her office, they often heard shouting. When the door opened, students walked out in tears. Some planned to work closely with Maestra toward their Master's or DMA. Those plans would change...

An alumni couple created an endowed chair for Maestra, protecting her from political games. To celebrate, students accompanied her to the donors’ Connecticut home for a musicale. We loaded two vans with the usual music school suspects: waifish Asian virtuoso string players, an Eastern European sturm und drang pianist, a diffident “difficult” composer, and bit players like me.

Both donors were in their eighties and fabulously rich, earnest, lefty intellectuals. The wife wore a gas mask-like apparatus, its hoses attached to a whirring box on her back. I strained to understand her speech, but her eyes shone with love and curiosity. The couple warmly welcomed us to a large room packed with guests.

I was part of a quartet: oboe, flute, clarinet and piano, playing a student work. The composer, a young Dominican guy, rising star in the program. A Caribbean undergraduate writing skilled takes on contemporary European music. His piece used the difference-tone clusters of Gyorgy Ligeti: loud, high notes, staggered and longheld, producing acoustic anomalies: window-fan undertones and piercing oscillations. Bathing in timbral waves and madly counting beats, I couldn’t find the piano part, though we made it to the end without requiring oxygen or a conductor. The composer took a awkward bow and disappeared.

With Maestra as Maitre’d we served up a baroque cello sonata, Beethoven piano music and some Sondheim. Then, our little foursome loudly dropped a turd on the buffet table.

The donor husband was one of those ruddy-faced white guys who wear baggy corduroys and turtle necks over their barrel physiques. He sought me out, towering above me as I packed up my clarinet.

“What did he mean with that piece?"

“Sir, I…I wouldn’t want to represent the composer, he never said anything about..”

“Now, you must know something.”

He was an important man accustomed to getting answers, fast and in full.

“I know my part and how it fits with the others. The woodwinds are playing difference tones, Stravinsky used...”

“Why didn’t HE explain that to us? We go to concerts all the time. Conductors explain new music. They give examples, give context. You can’t just write something like that and expect people to automatically understand it.”

Gulp....“Of course.”

“It’s his responsibility to help the audience understand the music”

I looked over. By the buffet, the composer was holding a plate, one of the string players laughing next to him. Mrs Donor approached me, extending her hand. The box on her back hissed and clicked. Above the mask, searching eyes, below, a voice from a radio in another room. Was she talking about the quartet? It was too uncomfortable. I interrupted.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality and the opportunity to play for you. You and your husband are so generous.”

She squeezed my hand and leaned in, radio transmission drowning in static. Her husband came to her side.

“My wife is saying we've been to many, many concerts of new music. Starting way back, with Lenny Bernstein. He taught us there’s always something to learn. He introduced us to many extraordinary artists”

He put his hand lightly on her back. Over her shoulder, Maestra was listening to a guest, head level with their sternum, eyes searchlights in reverse. The radio faded and its whirring submerged in the din.

We got back very late. Our vans parked by the gatehouse and turnstile on the east side of campus. A few yellow lights glowed in the music building. Maestra thanked us. We said goodnight.

Drifting on an acoustic sea, our ancestors explored sound, harnessing the waves. Between foaming peaks and psychic undertow, they found power. From our African beginnings, to the stars, every lineage counted on those who navigated, who mastered instruments, who carried in them songs and stories. They became the music, while it lasted.

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redeyessharplies · 6 years

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When the Curtain is Drawn

NOT FINISHED BUT LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK MAYBE??

Summary: Circus Au. When Bucky agreed to run away to the circus with Steve he hadn’t expected them to really stay. He thought that the other would realise that it was a bad idea and the two would return after a few days. He thought that the circus owner wouldn’t let them join. He definitely hadn’t expected that they would be welcomed into one hell of a dysfunctional family, nor that he would meet one of the most alluring magicians in the world.

Bucky had never been one to believe in the tricks of magicians, but the only word he could think of to describe Loki really was magic.

(Fic under cut)

Bucky rolled his eyes as he sat on Steve’s bed, watching as his friend packed. This was hardly the first time his friend had wanted to run away from home and while he understood – hell he understood more than Steve would ever know – this was by far the most unrealistic and cliché of his plans to date.

“Really? The Circus?”

“Yes.” Steve repeated again, he had already confirmed this four times since Bucky arrived. “I am sick of living here and my aunty won’t notice if I’m gone. There’s a circus setting up on the oval down the street of the church, I talked to the owner a guy called Nick Fury, and he said they are only doing a couple of shows before they leave. I offered to help out and he said they were always happy to get extra hands. If I can prove that I’m a good worker he might let me go with them! And I can finally be free of this town!”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, absently noting its length, “Technically the town is fine, it’s just the people here that are shitty.” He countered, earning a smile from his friend. “And you’re just going to take off and leave me here?”

Steve stopped and faced him, his eyes, so hard with determination, softened, “You know I’d never do that Buck. Come with me?”

“To the circus.” Bucky deadpanned and sighed again. “This is a terrible plan, you’re aware of this right?”

“You’ve gone alone with worse plans.” Steve pointed out with a cheeky smirk that to anyone else would be charming but Bucky knew how much of a little shit his friend really was.

“… you’re not wrong.” He begrudgingly relented, “Alright. Let’s go be the most cliché people in the history of people and run away to join the circus.”

As it turns out, running away to join a circus entailed a lot more work than Bucky had thought. Fury had allowed he and Steve to help set up the tents and to help the members of the circus get ready before every show.

The circus, Sortie Du Cirque (aka Circus of Outcast’s as Bucky would later find out), did three shows every day. The morning was reserved for practice, with every act getting a chance to either practice on stage or where ever else they preferred. There was then a show in the afternoon, another in the early evening for young families to be able to attend without their little ones having to be up too late, and a final show late at night. After the first full day with the circus Bucky decided the late night show was by far his favourite.

As there were rarely little kids in the audience, the performers didn’t have to censor themselves, a lot of them would banter more freely, both among themselves and with the audience.

The show consisted of five acts and two clowns who kept the crowd going in the in-between moments. Fury had explained that some performers would join them for a few shows, sometimes up to a few months at a time, as they passed through other cities but the main performers were as constant as the tent itself.

The five main acts consisted of Thor the Strong Man, The Two Mad Scientists, The Man Who Never Misses, The Angelic Ariel Acrobat, and Loki the Trickster. The two clowns were never named on stage but Bucky learned their names were Sam and Scott. The two men were hilarious and insanely talented in their own rights but their specialty really was making the crowd laugh. They were fantastic improvisers and any small issue was covered smoothly by them.

The rest of the performers were also really nice people, at least as far as Bucky could tell.

They pulled their weight and helped to set things up, Thor (and yeah apparently that was the guys real name) lived up to his stage name and did a lot of the heavy lifting. Steve got on with the blonde famously, it helped that the strong man was also a giant puppy human.

Clint (the man who didn’t miss) and Natasha (the acrobat) were both easy going people but Bucky could sense that they were hiding something. He could see it in the hints of darkness that entered their eyes and the way they avoided talking about certain situations. He had seen the same look and done the same things himself. So he knew better than to push and it seemed that they were doing the same with him. The mutual avoidance meant the three became friends pretty quickly.

The two scientists didn’t seem mad when they weren’t performing, Tony was a little cocky and a bit eccentric but Bruce was nearly shy when the stage lights weren’t on him. Either way the two were nice, more than a few times they would start talking about science mumo jumbo that Bucky had no hope of following but it was still interesting to listen to. He would always feel both smarter and dumber after talking to them.

The only performer that Bucky wasn’t overly sure of was Loki.

While he and Steve had met the others on their first day of work, Loki had refused to come out to meet them. Thor had apologised profusely, apparently the two were brothers and so he felt the need to represent his younger brother. The brunet had spotted him as he and Steve were repainting one of the large signs later that day. A slender man with hair as black as night and skin so pale he was nearly worried the man was ill, Loki was sat beneath a nearby tree with a book on his lap, seeming completely content to lose himself in the pages and ignore the world around him.

“He looks nothing like his brother…” Bucky had whispered to Steve.

Steve followed his gaze and saw who he meant, “I think the archer, Clint, mentioned that Loki is adopted.”

Bucky had hummed and the two had gotten back to work.

It wasn’t till the following day that he had met Loki properly.

Fury had asked he and Steve to help out with the sets and props (Bucky suspected it was because Steve was forever hopeful and persistent about proving their worth), and Bucky had helped to bring out things for Loki.

Bucky remembered seeing a magician when he was eight - he had done some basic card tricks and made a rabbit appear out of a hat. He had thought it was incredible, believing it was all real, until of course his father had pointed out how the man had done it and called him an idiot for ever believing in it.

Since then Bucky had always scoffed at magicians. He had become well practiced in finding the secrets that they tried to guard.

So being this close as Loki did his performance should have made it easy for him to find out exact how Loki was doing it and yet… as he seemingly transformed a rubber chicken that Sam had passed to him into a live dove that promptly flew around the room, Bucky was stumped. He had no idea how he had done it.

When Bucky agreed to run away to the circus with Steve he hadn’t expected them to really stay. He thought that the other would realise that it was a bad idea and the two would return after a few days. He thought that, even with how well they had done their jobs, Fury wouldn’t let them stay.

But he had started to hope that he would be wrong.

So when Fury had asked them to help them pack the trucks, Bucky had to admit he was a bit depressed. The last couple of days with the circus had been the first in years that he had felt like he was at home. While Bucky was in the habit of schooling his features into a blank mask when he was upset, Steve wore his heart on his sleeve. It was obvious to everyone present that he didn’t want to leave.

It was Tony that cracked first, “Fury come on; have mercy on the poor guy.”

A rare smirk appeared on the owners’ face, “Like I said boys, back up the trucks. And make sure you have a bag or two on there as well. That is of course, if you want to come with us?”

“Really? Thank you so much!” Steve lit up like the fourth of July and soon enough the two were heading home to pack and let their families know they were leaving.

That went about as well as Bucky had expected.

He arrived before Steve, thank the gods, and Natasha was the first one to spot him. She didn’t even mention the bruise on his jaw as she gestured for him to follow her.

In the back of one of the trucks she used her foundation to cover it up before giving him a gentle genuine smile. “There, all done.”

“Thanks…”

Natasha shrugged, “You’re part of the family now right? Unlike some families, we look out for each other.” The power in her voice shook him to his core and he could only manage a small nod. “Now, help me get my suitcase in here?”

As Bucky and Steve sat beside each other, the blonde smiled brightly at him.

“We did it Buck. We finally did it.”

After four days of driving they reached another small town, it was raining heavily though and it was impossible for them to put up the big tops. Fury wasn’t happy but the performers seemed excited to have a few days off.

“Alright. New game plan.” Fury started as they were sitting around a dining table at the restaurant a few doors down from the cheap hotel they were staying in. “We have three days to prep everything, if the rain let’s up and the ground is dry enough by then we can go ahead with the shows. We’ve set the circus up in a day before and I’m sure we would be able to again. But if, by the last of the three days, the ground isn’t dry enough or it hasn’t stopped raining, then we can’t do the shows and we have to move on to the next town.”

This was met by bittersweet nods of understanding. It seemed that while the performers were grateful for the downtime they didn’t want to disappoint and cancel the shows either.

“In the meantime, stay out of trouble.” Fury added, looking specifically at Loki (who rolled his eyes) and Tony (who mocked being offended before Bruce elbowed him).

“We shall ensure they are on their best behaviour.” Thor assured the man in that casually formal way that seemed to be ingrained in him.

“Their best is what I’m worried about…” Fury muttered.

“What do you think about Loki?” Bucky asked Steve as they were getting ready for bed. The two were sharing a room, Fury was the only one who got to have a single room.

Steve hummed in surprise at the question, looking over at him, “He seems… quiet. He’s very talented at what he does though. Why?”

Bucky shrugged, “No reason really.”

It was the second day since they arrived and the rain wouldn’t let up. It made the temperature drop and Bucky soon realised the few jackets he had had time to grab before leaving wouldn’t cut it.

He was relieved that Steve had at least packed properly. While his friend had bulked up a lot in recent years, he still had the immune system of a fetus. This was why Bucky shook his head when the blonde offered to go with him to try to find a shop where he could pick up a new jacket, “I saw an op shop a few doors down, I’ll be back soon.”

Going down and pulling his collar up higher, Bucky didn’t expect to see anyone he recognised when he stepped out of the hotel.

So he was caught off guard when he spotted Loki standing in the rain. He didn’t at all seem bothered by the icy drops that had saturated his cloths and clung to his hair and skin, making his already black hair seem impossibly darker and small bumps appear along his bare pale arms. He had his head tilted back, eyes closed as he stood on the edge of the gutter.

“You’re going to catch a cold like that.” Bucky pointed out after realising he had been staring for a moment too long.

Loki, to his credit, didn’t jump, though he did tense for a moment. “Unlikely. I don’t get sick.”

“Right, cause you have a magical immune system too now?” Bucky fired back with a hint of a sneer at the edge of his voice. He didn’t have anything against Loki, not really anyway, but there was something about him that put him on edge.

Loki turned and levelled him with a look.

Bucky stiffened and walked away without another word.

The third day brought with it more rain. The circus would not be performing in this town.

Bucky sighed as he looked out the window, Steve tapping him on the shoulder and handing him some tea.

There was a knock at the door and Steve went to answer, “Oh hey Clint! What can we do for you?”

“Hey man, Loki, Nat, and I are going to go throw stuff at a dart board while Tony, Bruce, and Thor play pool. You guys want in?” the archer asked with a challenge in his voice.

“Sure! Wait, this place has a pool room?” Steve asked, head tilting a little.

“Yeah! Tony found it last night. Bucky you in?”

Bucky met Steve’s questioning look and shrugged, “Okay sure.”

The three headed down together and found that the others were already there. Apart from them though the room was empty. As promised the scientists and Thor were playing pool, laughing loudly. A few metres away Nat and Loki were standing in front of a dart board but…

“They’re using throwing knives?!” Steve demanded, jaw dropping a little as Bucky’s eyes widened.

Sam and Scott came over to join them, Sam clapping the two on the shoulder with a smirk, “Oh you guys have a lot to get used to!” he laughed, coaxing them further into the room as Clint joined the others.

It seemed they had been waiting for him because as soon as Clint was close enough Loki threw a knife with dangerous precision, hitting just below the bullseye.

Bucky had to admit. He was impressed.

“So is this just a normal thing?” he asked as he moved closer while Steve joined the others at the pool table.

“Depends on your definition of normal.” Scott replied making the others laugh.

“Welcome to the circus.” Clint added with a tease as Nat planted a knife in the board.

Bucky could help but laugh. It was beyond bizarre but right now, watching his new friends throw knives at a dark board while Thor lifted a pool table to stop Tony sinking the black ball, in the pool room of a cheap ass hotel in a town he didn’t even know the name of, Bucky felt incredibly free.

The next morning they were back on the road, Bucky in the back of one of the vans with Scott, Bruce, Tony and Loki. Bruce and Tony were deep in their science babble, discussing plans for a new invention for their act. The two did a mixture of genuinely cool experiments, showing off inventions, and intentionally making mistakes to entertain the audience before fixing them to the audiences cheers.

Their act was possibly Bucky’s favourite.

As it turned out, Scott was a genius too. Maybe not to the same degree as the others but he often piped up suggestions on how to make the design better and the other two would ask for his opinion.

Unfortunately their conversation was getting a bit too technical for Bucky to follow and so he looked at Loki who once again had his head in a book.

“What are you reading?” he asked curiously.

Loki looked up at him and raised his book for him to be able to see.

Bucky laughed. “Really? Harry Potter?”

Loki smirked with a shrug, “I told Fury it was inspirational and he let me buy the series with the company card. He claimed it on equipment.”

“Surely Bucky isn’t your true name.” Loki asked it suddenly one day. He was on stage, working on a new trick and from the curses and the way his eyebrows pinched together Bucky didn’t think it was going well.

“It’s a nickname. James Buchannan Barnes is my full name.” Bucky supplied, not really sure why the other had brought it up.

“James is a much better name. Bucky is just a sound.” Loki told him, his voice holding such finality that he wasn’t able to argue. Instead Bucky just watched as Loki jumped off the stage and started to walk away.

Almost as an afterthought Loki turned back towards the stage and whistled.

A crow statue on the side of the stage suddenly took flight, flying to and landing on Loki’s shoulder as he continued walking.

“How does he do it?!” Bucky demanded again, pacing back and forth in front of Steve who was sitting, content to sketch pictures of the big top while his friend ranted.

“Do what?” he prompted absently.

“The-!” Bucky flailed, “The birds! The dove and the crow and the freaking rubber chicken!! How does Loki do it?!”

Steve smiled at him innocently.

“Magic?”

By the time they reached the next town the sun was shining brightly once more.

“Alright we have lost money to make up for! Let’s get this top up today and everyone get rehearsing!” Fury barked out. Bucky barely resisted the urge to either flinch or salute.

He did notice Loki rolling his eyes though which made him smile. Something about the green eyed magician gave Bucky the impression that he didn’t deal well with authority.

Soon enough everyone was hard at work setting everything up. Well almost everyone.

Loki was once again reading.

“You have truly been a spectacular audience! But I have one last favour to ask!” Clint called cheerfully, with a flourish of showmanship that brought a smile to everyone’s face, Steve and Bucky included. “I need a brave volunteer!”

The crowed seemed hesitant.

“I mean, I could always get Lady Aerial back out here if no one is brave enough?” Clint teased and almost immediately a man in the second row raised his hand. “Excellent! Come on up good sir!”

Steve came over to point to where he could get onto the stage more easily.

As he came up, Clint addressed the rest of the audience. “So,” he picked up and apple and lazily tossed it up in the air a few times, “Everyone knows the classic ‘shoot and apple of a person’s head’ trick. It’s old and boring and lets be real I could do it in my sleep.” He winked at a young woman in the audience who giggled. “I won’t be doing that. Instead, my oh so brave volunteer, I want you to bite the apple between your teeth and hold it there.”

The man looked hesitant but some jeers from his friends seemed to boost his confidence and so he happily did as he was told.

Clint smirked. It didn’t bode well.

“Now, I don’t mean to brag or anything, but my title literally is The Man Who Never Misses. And would you guys say I live up to it?” he asked, the crowd cheering excitedly as Clint went to retrieve another arrow before walking over to Bucky who held a blind fold in his hand.

“Well I guess we’re going to see! Or rather,” pausing for dramatic effect as he turned around, notching the arrow while Bucky tied the blindfold in place securely, “You’ll see. You ready buddy?” he called to the man who looked frozen in place, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Don’t move okay or this… well, this might get a bit messy.”

To the guys credit he didn’t move (though he seemed to be frozen).

The crowd was silent as Clint drew the arrow back before letting it fly.

There was a collective gasp before the cheers erupted. Clint removed the blind fold to bow at the crowd while Steve subtly put his hand on the man’s shoulder to steady him as he took the apple out of his mouth.

The arrow tip just barely pointing out the end.

Later that night, Bucky, Steve, Natasha, Tony, and Sam were sitting by the fire, winding down after a successful night.

Steve was drawing in the low light, Tony having pestered him until he agreed to draw him. Natasha was sitting beside the blonde, occasionally giving suggestions, “His hairline should be further back.”

“Shut it Nat,” Tony sniped back, “My hair is perfection and you know it!”

Steve just laughed and shook his head fondly. Bucky smiled, he was glad to see that Steve had settled in, made friends and seemed happy again.

Sam and Bucky were playing cards. The two enjoyed competing together, in everything from cards to gaining people attentions. Bucky kept his face blank as Sam contemplated what to do. “Alright… I see your chip, and raise you a bite size candy bar.”

Fury didn’t let them gamble with real money after Natasha had left them all broke.

Bucky was about to retaliate when distant yelling caught all of their attentions.

Natasha and Tony shared a knowing look, “Do you want to go?” Nat asked.

“Hell no, I broke them up last time and coped a black eye for my trouble!” Tony argued, “Send Sam!”

“I went the time before that.” Sam argued, not looking up from his cards.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, brows knitting together in confusion.

The three exchanged a look before Tony decided to take over, “It’s Thor and Loki. They have a… temperamental relationship at the best of times.”

“And at the worst?”

A loud crashing and Loki cursing seemed to answer that question.

Steve put down his sketch pad and got up, “Should one of us go see if everything’s alright?” he asked anxiously, wanting to help.

“Yep, and since you volunteered, good luck!” Tony said cheerfully, earning him a hit on his shoulder from Nat.

“It’s alright Steve, I can go. I have more practice than you with them.” Nat argued but when another loud crashing sounded Steve shook his head.

“I insist. Besides, if this happens a lot, I gotta know how to help right?” Steve replied with a smile and started heading towards the sound.

“Don’t cheat.” Bucky told Sam and got up to follow.

“Why won’t you just listen to me?!” Thor’s voice was far louder as the two friends grew closer, putting Bucky on edge.

“Because you know why I left, you know!” Loki screamed back, the hint of hysteria in his voice was something the two friends had never heard before.

“But why must you still be so difficult?!” Thor practically roared, a loud crashing sounding inside the brothers tent.

That was the last straw. Steve didn’t bother to announce their arrival as he pushed his way into the tent, Bucky not hesitating to follow. Loki was standing in the corner, shaking with his arms raised over his head instinctually. There were shattered remains of plates and a mug near him. Thor was glaring at his brother but there was something in his eyes, something akin to pleading.

It wasn’t until Steve spoke that the two seemed to even notice they were there.

“Guys that’s enough! I don’t know what you two are arguing about but I think you two should just calm down…” Steve’s confidence seemed to waver as Thor turned his glare on him. However, the bigger blonde did seem to deflate some.

Since it didn’t look like Thor was about to throat punch Steve, Bucky took the chance to move closer to Loki. He gently took hold of his elbow and urged him out of the tent. Loki’s green eyes were fixed on his brother as he was led out.

It wasn’t until the cool air hit him that he seemed to see Bucky.

With a scold the magician pulled his arm free, “Get off me!” he barked out, turning away from Bucky and stalking off.

For two people who had been at each other’s throats barely twenty-four hours ago, the two brothers seemed completely fine come the next morning. Or at least, if you ignored the forced smiles and the slight awkwardness, then yeah everything was fine. After breakfast Bucky was heading to his and Steve’s tent to change when he overheard a snippet of the brothers conversation.

“-apologize for acting like I did, it was unbecoming and I should not have thrown things at you.” Thor sounded beyond sincere and Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to interrupt their moment.

Loki sighed, his voice was soft as he replied and Bucky felt guilty for listening in, “I should not have pushed you like I did… I just…”

There was a pause before Thor gently urged, “If your silver tongue isn’t working, perhaps the truth may come easier.” When no answer came, it was Thor’s turn to sigh. “Alright. I will not push.” With that the blonde walked away, passing in and out of Bucky’s line of sight as he headed, presumably, to his tent to get ready for the day

It was only then, when Loki believed he was alone, that he offered an answer.

“… I just don’t want you to resent me or regret coming with me…”

Sam trumped around the stage, dramatically rubbing his head as though he were drenched in sweat. Scott came bouncing onto the stage slumping down next to him. Sam glanced at him, putting his finger to his lips as he leaned over to steal Scott’s hat and ‘dry’ the imaginary sweat off his head and underarms.

As the crowd laughed, Scott noticed what he was doing and gasped in mock offence. He snatched the hat back eagerly, holding it out of Sam’s reach. The two then started wrestling.

While they did so, Loki stepped up onto the stage. He was dressed in black and green, blue face paint decorating his delicate features as he walked around the pair slowly.

Unlike the other acts Bucky had watched Loki do, the magician didn’t speak a word.

This was a new trick, and as such everyone was watching on excitedly, he and Steve were amongst the crowd while the others watched from side of stage.

So it wasn’t just the audience who gasped and stared in awe as Loki tapped the two wrestling clowns on the shoulder and pointed up at the roof. White flecks started to fall and to the amazement of everyone, literal snow rained down on the stage and audience.

“Wow…”

“It snowed!”

“I know.”

“It actually fucking snowed!!”

“I was there Buck.”

“How in the ever loving fuck did he make it snow?! Inside?!?!”

“I told you man-”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“-Magic.”

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eenefangirlanalysis · 7 years

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Returning from our fourth commercial break viewers are presented with this really well drawn and animated sunflower field. These sun flowers add a unique touch to the scene. It feels as if they’re drawn in a unique way. Which is the purpose of this scene.

Big Picture Show gives viewers new locations. We’ve been stuck in one spot for ten years. If we’re amazed at what we see then that’s how the Ed’s feel. They’re seeing the world for the first time. Through their eyes. Which is why the atmosphere feels so free, energetic, and calming. That’s what flowers do.

Oh look, a barn in the background.

Could the farmer who owns all those cows live there?

If so, that means that Ed’s have not gone far from the cow field.

I have never studied the locations in this movie until now. Which means, the kids aren’t far behind. They could have caught up with them if they weren’t distracted with their own needs.

Since Rolf is all alone that is a much bigger distraction. We distract ourselves when we want to get things done. It would have made the movie better if Rolf did go along with Kevin and Nazz there would been less arguing and Rolf telling them to concentrate. Therefore, we wouldn’t have had a whole scene watching Rolf make an egg for himself.

And then Kevin and Nazz wouldn’t be constantly bickering. Rolf tends to play the mediator between Kevin and Nazz. Kevin has always obsessed about his bike but it seemed a little out of character to always push Nazz to the side when they’re good friends.

Edd is walking through the field inspecting through a device that he prepared with objects from nature. This device is made out from sticks, leaves, maybe flat rocks, and water droplet to replace as a lens.

The Ed’s have always improvised with tools they don’t have. That is really inspiring and I hope that fans have noticed this. Everything may not come out the way you want it to. You have to improvise. That’s what I love about Edd. He is a unique inventor.

As we would have learned through Edd’s confession he has been inventing since a young age. The dodge ball incident affected him greatly. I have a head canon that Edd’s parents never noticed that their child invented until the incident which game them a wrong impression about their son. They’ve always been too busy working or avoiding their son to observe his special talents.

And so Edd gave up inventing until he became friends with Ed and Eddy. They met as kids when Edd first moved into the neighborhood. My head canon is that the boys didn’t fully connect until some time late in the fourth grade. Have you ever noticed how they still feel as if they’re getting to know one another, or just Edd, through season 1? Ed and Eddy had no idea that Edd’s parents wrote to him through sticky notes.

His friends inspired Edd to invent again. Eddy always gave him the credit he deserved before he started obsessing over becoming the best scam conniver like Bro. Eddy gave Edd new hope. He looks at himself in a more positive way. Still, he is unsure and holds back due to his past.

Ed and Eddy are the best things that ever happened to Edd.

An excited Eddy calls out for Edd.

Aw, look at that smile Edd gives Eddy.

He’s so excited that he nearly runs past Edd and his to cling to his shirt.

Adorable.

Edd is protecting his device at all costs.

Eddy has something to show Edd when Ed rams into Eddy.

Once again these X marks appear in Eddy’s eyes and he grimaces.

And only Eddy is in pain upon the impact of falling to the ground.

I wonder if that means Eddy hurts more then he puts on. He always ignores pains. Eddy is one of the strongest people to ever walk the earth. He has taken so much pain and throws it into the shadows. He moves forward. That may not be the healthiest thing for Eddy as he is bottling all his failures and self esteem issues. You have to admire how he can put everything in the past and move on as if nothing happened.

Does that mean he’s going to have a tougher time post BPS now that his mask has been shattered?

“Oh, um....”

“Cute.”

Edd returns to his mature adult mask not wanting to lose focus. He has been given an important task. Which means he doesn’t want to let down Eddy if he really does want to locate his brother.

Letting someone down is not a part of Edd’s vocabulary. Especially a person who cares about him.

There will be a BIG line later on which implies so much about the relationship Edd has with his parents right now. I wonder if he still continues to do all those sticky note chores. Edd being who he is has to do them all. He has stopped relying on his parents mentally, but physically he needs to get all his chores done. He believes that his parents will one day come back into his life and act as if he’s their son for once.

Edd is about to walk away when Eddy pulls him back by his hat.

Look how freaked out Edd is. His hat was seconds away from slipping off his head.

I notice that Edd’s hat doesn’t stay suction cupped to his head along their journey. Edd needs to hold on to it. They may live in a cartoon world, but they’re facing reality. All children believe the cartoon world exists and will mimic dangerous stunts that happen in the shows they watch.

This relates to the Ed’s. Living in a cartoon world would be the most amazing life to live. Except cartoon characters can’t have everything. There comes a point where their survival skills are tested. Edd can’t keep what is hidden under his hat a secret for long. This is the first time he has been out in the real world on his own. He feels vulnerable.

Eddy tares out this sunflower.

I love the animation on this, btw. It has a really unique feel in the movement.

And slams Ed in the face.

Eddy laughs hysterically at this scene holding himself against Edd who’s mouth turns into his ear for a moment.

Eddy loves causing trouble. He has to make it with the right people. Oh, he’ll learn his lesson during a famous scene.

“Uh Oh!” Literally this is the cutest Eddy reaction ever.

Eddy runs for it as Ed gives chase acting as if he were a ferocious lion.

Great facial expressions by Edd who is confused on how to act with his friends play. He needs to protect his invention at all costs.

“I AM THE MIGHTY AGAMUSHIN! I AM FROM OUTER SPACE!”

“Don't bite me, oh Agam... ah- whatcha-whatchamacallit!”

Eddy is so adorable throughout this scene.

This little scene is a callback to all the times where the Ed’s played with each other. There were openings to early episodes with them running through the fields, horsing around in the junkyard, and their famous signature dog pile. These were my favorite moment because they gave off the vibe of the show.

Ed, Edd n Eddy is not just about three boys scamming neighborhood kids to buy jawbreakers. It’s about three outcasts trying to understand the world and each other. They’re kids who grow up too fast because they want to impress people who never respected them.

The Ed’s changed due to the people who affected them in their lives. These people made them have a negative outlook on themselves

I really want to take a minute and talk about Eddy’s character through this scene.

Eddy is usually annoyed with Ed’s antics or won’t play with him at all. He’ll just ignore it. This time away from the cul-de-sac is what he needed. He felt imprisoned with the constant bullying and harsh remarks.

Each Ed feels at peace.

I remember in Look Before You Ed Eddy stared bewildered at Ed and Edd playing with one another. And then he grows angry. He fears that he gave up his childhood to do these pointless scams and mask a person who he disliked. Eddy has always regretted that.

This journey is an opportunity to give Eddy a chance to be himself, enjoy life and be a kid.

@cyanidefilledcandy once analyzed this scene. I really liked the line she ended off with. The Ed’s escape from their imprisoned cul-de-sac gives them hope for a better life. They’re getting back in touch with their season 1 selves knowing they’ve become unlikable.

It’s a chance to reconnect.

Edd is even giggling at Ed and Eddy’s play.

Edd Mentally made himself grow up. He wishes he could enjoy the days where he was kid. I love the way Edd acted through season 1 and 2. He actually initiated the dog pile in the first episode. He found a sense of belonging with Ed and Eddy.

Honestly, I think Edd misses those days. That’s why he’s laughing along at this scene. In the scene from Look Before You Ed that I mentioned above instead of rubbing off Ed’s play he plays along. This is the remainder of his childhood. And most of it was taken away.

Nice face, Edd.

“Agamushin. A forest substrate. How apropos.”

Apropos: Very appropriate to a particular situation.

Hmm?

The lion is after the lamb bible passage?

#Ed Edd n Eddy #eene #ed edd n eddy big picture show #the eds #Ed #Edd #Eddy #character analysis #eene analysis #eene headcanons #eene season 1 #eene season 2 #EdEddy #Look Before You Ed #cul de sac kids #EddEddy #Rolf #Kevin #Nazz

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lordmo · 7 years

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dug out from the docs I wrote at my last job, a half-baked idea I had for a 2d arena fighter where guns were a major component, with every character having melee and gun modes. Set in the 1920s-30s USA. Every character is an assassin, but (most of them) with an alibi. Rough character ideas:

Cowboy (main character)

GUN: Pump-action shotty

GIMMICK: Slings around a pair of horseshoes on ropes as a bola, a rope dart, or a kusarigama as needed.

Black farmhand from Colorado.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Drags the opponent off into the night behind a horse.

Singer

GUN: Machine pistol

GIMMICK: Deals with hitherto-unseen piano wire lines as projectiles and traps.

Half-black half-white singer from Memphis (though possibly working out of Harlem, not sold), with all the social bullshit surrounding that.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Leaves the opponent hanging, strung up like a fly in a spider’s web, but it’s piano wire and they’re sliced to shit.

Detective

GUN: .38 service revolver

GIMMICK: Just one helluva slugger who relies on dodging and swaying like a boxer

Drunk-ass white guy from Beverly Hills. Two-fisted and paranoid.

CINEMATIC FINISH: leaves the opponent tied up in a car which “accidentally” loses its’ brakes and goes off the end of a pier

Strongman

GUN: Browning Automatic Rifle

GIMMICK: Big motherfucker with a big gun and deadly grapples

Huge Polish circus attraction with the classic “Strongman” look. His stage is set in Indiana.

CINEMATIC FINISH: drops a god damn boulder on the wounded opponent in the woods

Soldier

GUN: Appropriate WWI-era carbine or troop rifle

GIMMICK: He has a bayonet and is really good at rushdowns and switching between ranged and melee

Canadian wanderer (white) who wears a military helmet with the back blown out, letting his hair flow out of the back. Fought in Ohio or thereabouts.

CINEMATIC FINISH: ties the opponent up in the wilderness, lights one cigarette for himself, one for the opponent, and another for seemingly nobody. Then, in silhouette he slashes their gut open and leaves them for the wolves.

Socialite

GUN: Webley revolver

GIMMICK: Cane sword, which he uses for fencing combos

Posh white dickhead with a masquerade mask and a tuxedo, operating out of Miami. I probably don’t need to tell you that he’s a serial killer.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Socialite expertly dices the opponent apart in the middle of a ballroom, while jaded rich people in opera masks watch the “exhibition”

Businessman

GUN: Sawed-off double barrel shotgun

GIMMICK: He’s slow, but he can switch to a very, very devastating axe with his off-hand.

Portly black fellow from New Orleans. Wears a tweed suit minus the jacket.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Pan away, pan back to screams as someone encounters a mysterious, bloody burlap sack left on the stairs of a local club.

Dock Worker

GUN: Mauser C96 knockoff with a red tassle, Chinese military-style.

GIMMICK: The red tassle conceals a short chain with a blade on the end, and also the Mauser comes with its attachable stock/holster for extra Melee bullshit. Also, can take an immobile kneeling stance with 8-way fire when the stock is attached.

Tomboyish Chinese woman wearing an ill-fitting men’s suit. Based out of San Francisco.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Hidden backup with bigass cleavers show-up and Dock Worker is shown feeding the fish with the opponent.

Flapper

GUN: Ruby Pistol. She carries a LOT of them.

GIMMICK: Potato masher grenades, which are great for both improvised bludgeons AND projectiles.

As the name suggests, she’s a total Flapper Fanny type - and also kinda homage to Ethel Hays in her manner of speech - based out of New York

CINEMATIC FINISH: never got one oops lol

Fortune Teller

GUN: long-barreled Colt .45 (not quite a Buntline)

GIMMICK: Throwing glass beads to create explosions and etc., plus backdashes with her “conjuring” her gun seemingly out of nowhere.

Romani wanderer who claims no homeland, but her stage is in Texas.

CINEMATIC FINISH: same as Flapper

Vigilante

GUN: Colt 1911x2

GIMMICK: John Woo-style action hero, diving and dashing and cartwheeling every which way.

Lantern-jawed white guy in a trenchcoat and domino mask. Works out of Chicago.

Actual alibi-profession is owner of a newspaper.

CINEMATIC FINISH: leaves the opponent tied up and hung from a lamp post, a la Batman.

Stuntman

GUN: LeMat Revolver

GIMMICK: Keeps a rapier in his offhand at all times, plus he has an artificial leg that contains a shotgun.

Strapping tough white guy (though secretly half-Puerto Rican) with a cleft chin. Fights out of Hollywood.

CINEMATIC FINISH: The opponent is the “tragic” casualty of an “accidental” fire on an overly elaborate movie set.

MAGICIAN

GUN: Mars Pistol

GIMMICK: Teleportation and varying magic tricks (like doves with knives taped to their feet)

Italian or Slavic man (haven’t decided) who is currently performing in Philly.

CINEMATIC FINISH: Basically a horror death-trap of some description where the opponent is trapped in an enclosed area and Magician pulls a lever and SURPRISE, the opponent dies horribly in some manner.

THE KID

Gun: Tommy Gun

Gimmick: Lots of belly flops, evades, and crawls.

Short Mexican man, fought in Texas. Wears a way-too-baggy suit and, as his name indicates, he’s barely 20. Current cover business is import-exports.

Never got a cinematic finish

SEMI-BOSS: “Numbers”

GUN: Semi-auto pistol (browning, beretta, whatever’s appropriate at the time)

GIMMICK: Has a hook hand, which he uses for some fucking NASTY grapples. Has a devastating bullet-evading dash.

Bespectacled German guy with a high-and-tight trenchcoat-and-fedora look. Fought in the backwoods of Georgia.

Same as above.

SEMI-BOSS: “Big Guy”

GUN: Browning Heavy Machine Gun, barely modified as to be holdable.

GIMMICK: Big, slow, soaks up damage, fires fast, hits like a goddamn juggernaut.

Towering Native-American guy wearing a crude heavy metal bulletproof vest. Fought in Nevada.

CINEMATIC FINISH: the idea was a sky burial but I’m not so sure anymore

SEMI-BOSS: Sharpshooter

GUN: Lever-action rifle

GIMMICK: Has a lasso at her disposal to reposition the enemy, plus ricochet shots and a kneeling stance.

Short white girl in an over-elaborate dress and huge cowboy hat. Part of a traveling circus currently stationed in Wyoming.

also her personality gimmick is that she doesn’t give a fuck about money or revenge or justice or anything, she’s chomping at the bit to test her showy marksmanship abilities in a real combat situation

CINEMATIC FINISH: Sharpshooter tosses a bottle in the air, turns her back, closes her eyes, and leans her rifle over her shoulder. She blows the neck off the bottle perfectly, letting it land flat and spill its contents as the opponent falls backwards into an open, shallow grave. The show carries on.

SECRET BOSS: Undertaker

GUN: sawed-off single-shot rifle.

GIMMICK: Super armor on some moves, disturbingly long-ranged melee attack specials (see: Freeman from Garou), and he can reflect bullets with his shovel.

Totally stereotypical “ghoulish” guy with the cloak, hunched-over physique, deathly pallor, ratty crooked hat, all of that business. Donno where he fights.

CINEMATIC FINISH: what do you think, genius. It involves an open grave.

BOSS: never settled on one lol sorryyyy

Other ideas involved a big game hunter with a double rifle, a circus acrobat with a bull whip in some capacity, a travelling chef (please let your imagination take that concept to another level), and a death-obsessed olympic pistol target shooter who did low damage but could tap the FUCK outta that fire button.

#mo's brain vomit parade

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