Silenced Fire - Master list
Chapter 1: Wasted
Chapter 2: Flower petals
Chapter 3: Revenge on my mind
Chapter 4: Picking fights
Chapter 5: Thorn in the side
Chapter 6: What do I do
Chapter 7: Kidnapped
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pegoryu valentine :3
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I'm re-reading the Discworld series for reasons, and honestly the most relatable part of reading these as an adult is how many of the protagonists start out being tired, used to their little routine and vaguely disgruntled by the interruption of the Plot. Sam Vimes wants to lie drunk in a gutter and absolutely doesn't want to be arresting dragons. Rincewind is yanked into every situation he's ever encountered, though he'd much rather be lying in a gutter too. (Minus the alcohol. Plus regretting everything he's ever done said witnessed or even heard about fourth-hand in his whole life.) Granny Weatherwax is deeply suspicious of foreign parts and that includes the next town over; Nanny has leaned into the armor of "nothing ever happens to jolly grannies who terrorize their daughters-in-law and make Saucy Jokes"
Only the young people don't seem to have picked up on this---and that's fortunate, because someone has to run around making things happen, if only so Vimes and Granny and Rincewind have a reason to get up (complaining bitterly the whole time) and put it all to rights. Without Carrot, Margrat, Eric, etc. these characters don't have that reason; they're likely to stay in the metaphorical gutter and keep wondering where it all went wrong or why anything has to change.
............well, that's not quite true. You get the sense that Vetinari knows how much certain people hate the Plot. And as the person sitting behind the metaphorical lighting board of Ankh-Morpork, he takes no small pleasure in forcing the Plot-haters specifically to stand up, and say some lines.
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advocatus diaboli
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i think one of the things the pjo show has understood the best so far is specifically the isolation and insecurities that come with being neurodivergent, and how it reflects onto percy. the book touches on it a lot, but i think rick really wanted to push percy's own internal struggles more obviously to the forefront for the show.
Percy references again and again how inattentive and zoned out he is constantly, and how he blames himself for being stuck in his own world. He feels crazy and misjudged by everyone around him just for having what everyone else presumes is a very active imagination, hyperactivity, and a brain that works differently. and when people do acknowledge his differences, even attempting to spin them positively to him, like Sally and "Mr. Brunner," it only makes him feel worse, because again the only thing they can tell him is that he's "special," inherently other, something he's come to associate with being an embarrassing and shameful thing, with Nancy calling him "special" as an insult. I've seen "special" thrown at nd kids as an insult by their peers over and over again since I was little. So Percy can't help but believe it's a negative thing, no matter what the adults that do support him in his life try to tell him, because it's been internalized that he's just different in a way that's bad and inferior, and that that there's a reason he's lonely and troubled and delinquent. Even if it was a positive thing, like Sally and "Mr. Brunner" insist to him, he feels inherently isolated and confused and wrong in the mortal world for being different, and like there's nothing that can change that or make him normal.
We see Percy break down in front of Sally after being expelled about how he's terrified something's irrevocably wrong inside him now. And his immediate reaction of rage and confusion when the only thing she can tell him, once again, is that he's special. And I think that is really going to resonate with a generation of nd people who've experienced these types of scenarios.
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A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc
"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."
"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.
"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.
"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"
"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.
"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."
"This is where I live."
"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"
"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"
"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."
"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."
"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."
"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"
"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"
"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"
"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"
"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"
"Please, call me Bruce."
"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."
Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.
"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."
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Sleep of the Just | Inspired by Mucha's "The Times of the Day: Night’s Rest"
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i always give my fantasy worlds some kind of magic camera for my own self indulgence and now i'm feeling things
i need everyone to politely ignore the vampire mirror/photograph thing for 5 minutes just for me. please
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DP x DC prompt:
Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.
It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.
He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.
He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!
He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)
His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.
Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.
Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.
In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.
Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.
In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.
In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.
Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.
"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"
Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.
He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.
"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.
Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.
"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"
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Idk why but I can imagine Vasco and machete looking at the stars together since there was probably not a lot of light pollution in their time than there is nowadays so the stars were probably wayyy more visible
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Stuck on Autopilot - I had a son scene
Hello!!! I'm back with another wip from an original story, life has been a pain in my ass recently but I do have some airplane pilot/undercover spy/secret society stuff going on
Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons
Jack's eyes were cold, miserable, and angry. White knuckling a glass of gin, a heated glare aimed at the floor, "Damn you to hell Oscar Moseley." He snarled through gritted teeth. The oddly placed bar had become a sanctuary of sorts, it was out of the way, not knowing it was there rendered it invisible, and it was as far removed as Moseley officials from the genetic hustle and bustle of the civilian airport could get. Jack didn't bother to look up when he heard the door open, the sound of approaching footsteps came to a sudden stop, followed by a drawn out sigh. When nothing else came, Jack let into temptation, removing his gaze from the floor and aiming his eyes upwards, there he saw Otto staring at him with pity in his eyes. "Go to hell." Jack grumbled, wishing to be left to his self seclusion. "Oh honey, where do you think I just came from?" Otto questioned, gesturing back to the door without freeing his hand from the confines of his jacket pocket. The handsome Britt sauntered a few steps toward the bar and his partner, bowing his head in what Jack wasn't sure was mockery or an attempt to see eye to eye, in a literal sense.
"So, do you want me to ask or.." Otto started in a hushed voice, close to Jack's ear. "Take a guess." Jack grumbled, ice clinking off the sides of his glass as he wiped a sleeve over his nose with sniffle. "How's the gin treating you?" Otto asked with a half smile. Jack cocked his head to cast a downcast side long look at his cohort. Light blue eyes resembling a flawed sapphire with a dull tone. “Ya know, if I was a bird,” Jack started, looking up at Otto, “you'd be the first to get shat on.” He jeered. Otto held his hands up in acquiescence, taking a step back. He laid a hand atop the mahogany bar, and the other rested on his hip. Watching his partner down his drink, wringing his hands and running them over his face. Otto sighed, glancing over at the door, “Right,” he began. “Maybe I can't stop your downpour,” he could see Jack look up at him from the corner of his eye, “but I'll join you for a walk in the rain.” He said, turning back to Jack. Otto had an urge to throw on a “mate” at the end of that sentence but thought better of it, given Jack's current mood.
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Assisting Acquaintance Acquired.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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A weird tree or something
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"The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen."
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