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iamthedukeofurl · 5 days

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Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”

In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.

#discworld #sam vimes #copoganda

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sataniquepanique · 1 month

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Sleight of Hand

Astarion x Tav (she/her used)

Summary: Tav is terrible at lock-picking, and Astarion is great with his hands.

A/N: Set around Act 3. Tav and Astarion are in a committed relationship and the party is thoroughly confused/disgusted.

“Shit—“

Astarion dug some dirt out from under his fingernail with the tip of a dagger. He sighed loudly, examining the crusted blood and muck circling each cuticle. The sooner they finished up here, the sooner he could scrub this mess off his body properly back at camp.

“—Fuck!”

His crimson eyes dragged upwards towards the sounds of frustration, watching with pure boredom as Tav continued to try and lock-pick the door to a run-down building in the southernmost part of the city. She’d been going at it for over 20 minutes, and as he had reminded her (more than once), time was not on their side in this situation. They needed to get in and get out, fast. Astarion internally groaned as Tav slid the pick into the keyhole for the 52nd time.

“Darling,” he said as pleasantly as possible, “please allow me. I’m exceptionally more skilled at this than you, and I can—“

“No!” She turned to give him a sidelong glare, “I’ve got this. Just…give me a moment, it’s almost there.”

He clicked his tongue. From beside him, Shadowheart sighed, slumping against the sun-warmed stone wall. Gale, ever the eager helper, hunched over a crouching Tav, muttering encouragements at her (frankly pathetic) attempts. Astarion’s upper lip began to curl into a snarl as Gale shifted closer towards her ear, whispering something that caused her to grin. Noises coming from the street above triggered them all to startle, the sound of clanking metal signifying an incoming approach of the Steel Watch. Astarion didn’t waste any time, crouching behind Tav and encircling her with his arms, placing both hands atop hers.

“As truly remarkable as you are—“ he began to move their hands in unison, guiding the lock-pick tools into the keyhole, “—sleight of hand is not one of your strengths my love.” A few more strokes of his fingers over hers, pressing the pick downwards while the other pried to the right, and they both felt the lock click.

It had taken mere seconds.

Tav’s voice was tight as she pulled her hands away, “It’s not my fault your—“

“—hands are more dexterous than yours?” Astarion purred in her ear, pocketing both tools into his jacket.

“I was going to say more used to being a degenerate, but whatever makes you feel better.”

He laughed softly as to not give away their location, the sound of the approaching guards growing louder. “Oh my darling,” he reached around to open the door, caging her between himself and the wooden frame, “Keep it up and I’ll show you how much of a degenerate I can be, hands and all.”

She felt her entire body flush as Astarion brushed past, deft fingers dragging across her hip. Shadowheart followed quickly behind him, pausing before the doorway beside a frozen Tav.

“A friendly reminder that the Elfsong isn’t very conducive when it comes to…private matters. So do be sure to keep quiet later on, some of us would like to get some sleep.”

For a brief moment, Tav considered just throwing herself to the mercy of the Steel Watch rather than deal with this embarrassment, but Gale quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her into the building without another word.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #astarion blurb #astarion fanfiction #astarion fluff #astarion x female reader #astarion smut

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yergink · 29 days

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to me, the most telling line about izzy’s character comes from his deathbed speech. it’s when he tells ed that blackbeard was the both of them.

now, i am not operating under the assumption that this is true, but it’s important to note that izzy believes it is. and this specific belief being textually confirmed by canon explains so much about him.

the way izzy treats ed makes infinitely more sense to me when read through the idea that his imposition of toxic masculine ideals onto ed are a lot less about ed specifically and more about izzy’s view of the intersection between him, ed, and the idea of blackbeard—a figure who does not really exist in the way izzy perceives him.

the question of “why is izzy so obsessed with what ed does, anyway?” isn’t answered by love or loyalty grown out of a once-decent partnership turned sour, but by izzy’s near character-defining selfishness. because what he’s done is grafted his personal self-image and ambition onto ed’s back, and begun to scrutinize the two of them like they’re the same person, as if he has the right to do so, and he’s doing it under the curtain of his own hangups and biases.

this is why he sneers about how people need to call ed by “blackbeard” or “captain” in s1 in the same manner he sneeringly corrects his own name and title. because izzy sees them as equally disrespectful to him. and i maintain this is the same reason he takes credit for stabbing the portrait in 2x03—it’s instinct for him to defend ed’s image, because izzy sees a sleight against the image of blackbeard as a sleight against himself, too. because he believes himself to be a piece of the legend. if blackbeard seems a fool, then what does that say about his first mate?

we talk about ed viewing izzy as a father figure, but i haven’t seen much talk about the way izzy, like a toxic parent, is attempting to live vicariously through ed. i haven’t really seen any mention of how izzy’s outbursts over ed’s behavior feel so reminiscent of the way an insecure parent scolds their child because of what they imagine the way their child acts says about them.

ed himself matters much less to izzy than what the icon of ed-as-blackbeard stands for, and—more importantly—how it stands to benefit izzy.

we see in s1 that izzy makes a shit captain, but he revels in holding power over others (i was going to put a list of examples here to back up the point, but it got too long. view any ep of s1 with izzy in it for an example). if being blackbeard’s first mate is the best he’ll get, then he’ll claw onto that position with both hands.

him giving up that lust for power, humbling himself, and accepting community instead (in taking the unicorn leg when, up until then, he'd been very much rejecting any offer of help), is an important point of his arc, but you need to understand just how astronomically selfish izzy was beforehand to fully appreciate it.

bottom line, any reading of izzy that discounts how in s1 he’s an extremely “the king’s evil chancellor vying for the throne”-type character is maybe missing something.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd meta #marine blogs #hopefully this makes sense? been picking away at this post for a while now #hesitant to actually add his tag on this..

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inkedroplets · 1 year

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You Owe me a New Desk

“I know I sprang this on you—” “Because you knew if you didn’t I would say no,” Kara said hotly, wondering if she had also purposefully chosen to tell her at the DEO to stop her from making too big a scene. She glared at Alex, hoping to see a hint of guilt on her implacable face, annoyed when she found none.

“It's dinner, Kara. you act like I’m trying to marry you off,” Alex said, arms already crossed over her chest, having expected resistance and prepared accordingly.

“Not yet, anyway,” Kara replied, shaking her head again, her hands still on her hips, fingers digging in to stop her from mimicking Alex’s pose, knowing she would cut a far more intimidating figure. “But at the rate, you’re going …” “It is one date,” Alex said. She snaked her right arm free and held up her index finger, although Kara suspected she would have much rather held up the middle one. “You don’t even need to think of it as a date. Think of it as a night out.” “A night out,” Kara repeated. “Yeah. Do you remember those?” “I missed a few game nights,” Kara said, her already fraying patience dissolving to nothing as they slipped back into the same quagmire they had been stuck in for months now. It seemed no matter what topic, whether it be something as banal as the weather or a metahuman attacking downtown like all roads lead to Rome. Every conversation with Alex always led back to Lena and how (in Alex's words) she needed to move on. As if it could ever be that simple. Although to everyone else it certainly seemed that way. Life for everyone else had simply seemed to have gone on. As if Lena's sudden absence was something that had happened a long time ago.

There had been a few desultory outings where the conversation often lagged and some of the takeout that normally disappeared so quickly remained untouched. She remembered a game night that had fizzled out after a brief game of Exploding Kittens and turned into an impromptu movie night that had been something Kara had needed to get through rather than enjoy.

But the group (minus Kara) had found their footing soon after that. Karaoke where lyrics were belted out (oftentimes offkey) and at the appropriate eardrum-shattering decibel. Game nights filled with laughter interspersed with the occasional howl of indignation when someone invariably pulled too far ahead in points or when a house rule had been broken whether on accident or on purpose.

Kara had watched it happen in a state of incredulity, bearing witness to the speed at which things had returned to normal for everyone else, at how fast their fractured circle had closed in reaction to Lena's absence. Life had simply gone on for them. But not for her. And seeing her friends joke and laugh, and have spirited debates over who out of the group would have the best chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse and what were the superior pizza toppings, turned her incredulity to white-hot anger. Anger that had all the forethought of a bull in a china shop. It rampaged around in her chest, seeing red everywhere, looking for something to smash, to gore. It was why she had eventually stopped going to game night, (even if all she had done since Lena’s absence had been to act as a scorekeeper).

“You’ve missed six,” Alex countered “Six then.” “And every time someone tries to make plans with you, you always find an excuse not to—” “Me being busy is not an excuse,” Kara fired back and gave her cape a hasty flutter, drawing attention to it the same way a magician might before attempting some sleight of hand. In truth, it was an excuse, but with how busy she had kept herself, it would have been hard to accuse her of lying. She had practically begged Andrea for more work, happily snapping up whatever puff piece or blogpost that she threw her way. Andrea had been far too happy that her Pulitzer-winning reporter had suddenly come around on soft news after being so vehemently against it to question why she was now more than happy to pen an article about ‘What your favorite kind of tea says about you’. She had also redoubled her efforts as Supergirl, spending more of her time patrolling the city. Anything to keep busy, to keep herself distracted. Not that it was ever enough. “You can take one night off, Kara…” Alex let out a sigh that sounded like it had been kept under pressure for a very long time, almost a hiss as her gaze that had been so steely just moments ago softened. “I know this has been hard…” No, you don’t.

“I know you miss her.” “I don’t miss her!” Kara shouted. The ensuing silence and the feeling of suddenly being watched as everyone in the room turned to look in her direction made her cheeks burn. Doing her best to ignore the fact that to the others in the room, she and Alex had become the only two players on the stage of a sold-out show she stalked forward so that she could lean close enough to whisper to her. “Kara…” “I do not miss her,” Kara murmured. She pressed a hand flat against her forehead and let it slip over her eyes briefly like a shroud. In the transient darkness, she saw herself. Not a perfect reflection but her as she had looked trapped in the Fortress’ defenses that Lena had reprogrammed on the fly. Defenses that had been put in place originally as a Luthor failsafe… “Okay,” Alex said placatingly. “You don’t miss her. After what she did to you—” And what did we do to her? Kara thought, the image of herself fading from her mind’s eye as she let her hand fall back to her side. “Can we not, Alex? Please?”

“Why don’t you head home for the night?” Alex suggested as if she wasn’t the reason that Kara had stopped by the DEO in the first place instead of heading straight home after her patrol. “Just think about it, okay? The date… or not date.” “Yeah,” Kara said, already beating a hasty retreat towards the door. She could hear the indistinct whispers of some of the agents in the room as clearly as if they were whispering into her ear instead of someone else’s, ignoring the looks of concern on many of the faces she passed.

I’m fine, she told herself. She repeated that to herself with each step like a prayer. And when she had put the DEO behind her, had flown up high enough so that the city below had become a bed of glittering jewels, she repeated it aloud with the same quiet desperation one might have when earnestly wishing on a star. “I’m fine.”

Kara wasn’t fine. How could she be when there didn’t seem to be a single potsticker in all of National City? She had tried all of her usual places and been turned away for one reason or another at all of them. Catching them as they were closing for the night, being swamped with orders, and just being plain out of food (although Kara could have sworn she smelled something cooking in the back).

She had however been offered an apology each time she had been turned away. Five apologies of varying sincerity did little to blunt her disappointment at being denied one of the few things that might bring her a tiny bit of comfort. It wasn’t until she had returned home defeated that she realized how strange it had been that every place had known her by name. Not that she didn’t frequent any of them enough for them to know her name, but she knew for a fact that none of them did. She had been a regular customer by virtue only, always having to give her name (sometimes several times) whenever she picked up an order. Not that she minded. But it had been odd to suddenly become a known entity at all five restaurants. Even stranger that a few of them had done a very noticeable double-take when she had walked in as if they had been expecting her.

The words: Could this day get any worse? trembled on her lips when she collapsed onto her couch, still in her Supergirl suit. She didn’t dare speak them aloud, though. She knew better than to tempt fate. Knew from experience that life could turn on a dime and be unimaginably cruel. Krypton’s destruction. Having to watch her home be destroyed before her eyes and at that moment (and for a long time after) a selfish part of her had wished she had been destroyed along with it.

Compared to that, how could a squabble with Alex and being denied her favorite food ever measure up? Only, she knew it wasn’t just that. It was being faced with the fact that her passion for journalism, something that had fulfilled her in a way that Supergirl never could, had seemingly vanished and her attempts (that had become more and more desperate) to recapture it had only made her more sure that it might be gone for good. It was the distance growing between her and all her loved ones and how little she seemed to care as she watched it happen. It was the unimaginable bitterness that ate away at her like acid from how she had hurt Lena and how Lena had hurt her. It was how at times there seemed to be no bottom to her pain. It was the recurring nightmare she had frequently of being back in the Fortress. Watching Lena disappear into the portal with Myriad. Trapped once more in that glittering cage. Even the most vivid of nightmares couldn’t replicate the pain of kryptonite, but what it could do was convince her sleeping mind that she was trapped there. Trapped with no way of escape. And when she woke up drenched in a cold sweat, she wasn’t sure whether she was in her bed, in the Fortress, or back in the Phantom Zone…

“It’s the potstickers,” she muttered. Her stomach gave a very loud rumble a few moments later, making it that much easier to pretend that’s all it was. She had plenty to work with in her fridge. At a quick glance with her X-Ray vision, she saw leftover pizza, Thai food, and half of a burrito that looked about the same size and general shape as a small anaconda. But no potstickers. “Maybe if Alex didn’t invite me to the DEO under false pretenses to set me up on a blind date,” she muttered, finding it easy to imagine a scenario where if she had arrived only ten minutes earlier her favorite place wouldn’t have run out of food. That very likely outcome annoyed her almost more than Alex trying to dictate her love life. Lena would understand. The thought was like a bolt from the blue, too quick for her to stop herself from thinking it and too ingrained in her to be surprised that she had. Lena had been the one she had always gone to when she wanted to vent, especially if it was about Alex. She had always seemed to know when Kara simply wanted her to listen to her vent and when she wanted advice. Something that Alex still hadn’t mastered. While she meant well, Kara thought she approached helping her with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball at times. Her hamfisted attempt at getting her out of her funk by setting her up with a stranger was evidence of that.

Alex is being so annoying today! You wouldn’t believe what she did. She actually tried to set me up on a date!! Sometimes she just needs to mind her own business!! And every Chinese place in the city is out of potstickers. And when I say ‘every’ Chinese place I mean every single place. I checked them all.Writing the text was cathartic, the modern-day version of writing a letter that you had no intention of sending. The relief would be fleeting, of course, although Kara had no idea just how fleeting.

She had tossed her phone aside and begun taking mental stock of what she had in her cupboards and fridge, trying to figure out what to do for dinner when her phone chirped weakly from underneath one of her throw pillows.

She swiped her finger lazily over the screen and felt her stomach enter freefall.

“Oh, no no no no…” Kara squeezed her phone hard enough to produce an ominous cracking noise that made her drop it directly onto her face. Flinching, she let it slide down into the crook of her neck before scooping it up, careful not to crush it (regardless of how tempting that sounded at the moment).

She dragged her index finger over the screen and stared open-mouthed at the message she had never meant to send, but had done so anyway. She let her eyes unfocus and slowly zero in again as if that might make the message disappear.

When her vision sharpened again and she saw the message was still there, Kara let out a low moan, wishing she could have willed it out of existence through sheer desperation, certain that if such a thing were possible she would have no trouble at all pulling it off.

But it was the message just below it that made her do a double-take.

I couldn't care less about the potstickers, but please, do go on about how awful Alex is…

The message was so unabashedly Lena that Kara had no trouble imagining her speaking the words aloud, the imagery so vivid that she could have sworn she heard Lena's voice echoing in her head.

She stared at it a moment longer before she typed out a very hasty, I'm sorry, not sure what else she could say. Her thumb hovered over the send button, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. That wouldn't get a response. She was certain of that. Not when the other apologies she had sent had never once elicited a response from Lena. The apologies she had agonized over sending in the first place and regretted on the days when her anger at Lena outweighed the pain of missing her, of hurting her.

#most definitely a work in progress #I don't know how to share private posts so everybody gets to bear witness #supercorp #can something be angsty and smutty at the same time?

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artoile · 8 months

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Phantom Thief Jamil AU feat. Ruggie and Ace.

(Yes Ace's cotsume is a combination of KID's and his ghostmari outfit. More AU notes under the cut)

Ruggie: A cat burglar from Sunset Savanna. Met Jamil when they targeted Sunset Savanna’s royal treasury simultaneously by pure happenstance. After being cornered by Leona’s countermeasures against burglary, they managed to escape by working together and relying on the other’s magic. Realising they could benefit from cooperation, they struck a business arrangement in which they execute heists together and split the spoils. Though they can hardly be considered “friends” given the constant suspicion, there’s still a level of camaraderie and understanding between them. Jamil typically masterminds the heists and Ruggie follows his instructions, but is frequently derailed by his own agenda and greed. They both lead their regular, day to day lives separately, but they’ll make the necessary arrangements to meet before executing a heist. After Octa is hired by the Asim family to investigate the thieves, Jamil moves strings for Ruggie to get a job at the pop-up lounge location and keep an eye on the fish. Unbeknownst to them both, Ruggie was already on Octa’s radar due to him robbing a safe in one of the Lounge’s branch locations in the past, but they agree to hire him in order to monitor his actions as well. Ruggie happens to enjoy his job at the lounge, and is a pretty competent worker, so Octa isn’t planning on getting rid of him…yet. (Keep your enemies close…)

Ace: A traditional phantom thief à la Kaitou KID. He currently works as an intern at a travelling circus from the Queendom of Roses where his older brother stars as the stage magician. He doesn’t have a leading role himself so he’s typically relegated to grunt work behind the scenes. He starts an undercover career as a phantom thief purely out of boredom and dissatisfaction with his current lot and does it for the thrill. His heists are performances that showcase his magic and sleight of hand skills. He’s well liked as a magician and there’s lots of speculation regarding his identity, which helps stroke his ego, but he has a tendency to overestimate himself and get in trouble. He publicly challenged Jamil to a heist, claiming he could steal Jamil’s target first. To the public eye, that appeared to be the case: Ace put on a flashy show…only to get trapped by him and Ruggie as he made his escape. Because of this, Jamil and Ruggie are aware of his civilian identity, but he isn’t aware of theirs. They allowed him to go and promised to keep his secret…in exchange for him providing assistance whenever requested. Jamil has been blackmailing him to act as bait for some time now, but it’s not like he’s able to refuse. Kalim frequents the circus whenever it visits the Scalding Sands, so the two have crossed paths normally without Ace knowing.

#TWST #twsited wonderland #ruggie bucchi #ace trappola #jamil viper #phantom thief au #art.oile

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flyingwargle · 9 months

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tw: beginnings of an anxiety attack midway through

the show was a disaster.

lynette thinks it’s because of sabotage. lyney thinks it’s because of him.

when he palmed the wrong card at the start of their act, he should’ve taken it as a sign that nothing else would go well. instead, his smile became wider, raised his voice louder, swept his arms in more and more elaborate gestures. the stage lights hid the audience’s faces, but he could still hear their whispers, their judgments, their disappoint. this is not what i paid for.

that’s why he refunded their tickets. it’s the least he could do.

he sends his sister home while he inspects their props. she already did it while he was talking with the ticket office, but he has to be sure that the fault lies with him. there’s no sign of tampering, and all equipment remains in its rightful positions, waiting for tricks that would never happen. they aren’t to blame – he is.

do you really call yourself a great magician?

the theater is empty. lyney sits cross-legged onstage, facing the shuttered overhead lights. it’s cold, amplified by the empty seats and corridors. he’s cloaked in darkness, with only the stars shining through the windows.

i should go back. the others will be worried.

are they, though? do they really want such a pathetic brother back?

he squeezes his eyes shut. he picks himself up, stumbles down the hallway to exit through the back door. security locked the front entrance hours ago. he couldn’t bring himself to leave among his dissatisfied patrons.

the court of fontaine is a different entity at night. whereas light makes water seem friendly, night makes it seem unforgiving. streetlamps illuminate his path, boots echoing around him. he walks with his back straight, head held high, as if walking home after a successful show, full of bravado. this is just an act, a mask to hide his turmoil, like the teardrop he paints on his cheek before every show.

he slows. the stars accompany the moon, yet no one accompanies him. he leans against the railing to peer down at the lower levels of the city. storefronts are darkened. stalls are covered with canvas. only the faintest light radiates behind closed curtains, followed by hushed voices and rustling blankets. soon, it feels like he’s the only one left awake.

that’s why only silence answers him when he curses. “dammit!”

people make mistakes. it’s natural. he doesn’t because he knows the consequences. all he’s ever known is that a single misstep can mean being thrown to the wolves, to be claimed by the darkness without a way back. as the oldest, he can’t afford wrong moves. it isn’t just him who suffers, but his brothers and sisters.

his hand sneaks up to his chest. it’s heavy. his heart is racing. his breaths are quick. stay calm…stay calm. i…have to go back. i can’t…let the others know–

“lyney?”

he jumps. when he raises his head, his vision is blurred. tears form in the corners of his eyes. why?

why did you have to find me like this?

lynette stands on his right, freminet on his left. their gestures are light across his arms as they guide him to sit down. “you were taking so long,” lynette whispers. “we were worried about you?”

what’s there to worry about? i’m fine.

“no, you aren’t. you’re always like this when a show goes badly.”

freminet nods. “it- it’s hard to keep it together all the time. you can be frustrated. we aren’t supposed to be perfect.”

i’m supposed to be. what good am i if i can’t even put on a magic show?

“it’s not just you.” a hand rests over his own to quell his trembles. “i’m onstage, too. fremmy designs our props. our brothers and sisters help make our stage costumes. you might be the one doing the sleight of hand, but we work together to make the show work.”

“a failure now means success later,” freminet adds. “we learn and we grow. that’s how it is.”

lyney draws in a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing to clear them of tears. lynette continues to hold his other hand. “it’s okay to cry.”

that’s all the permission he needs.

neither his sister nor brother speak, simply press against him as his tears flow down his cheeks. how unbecoming of him. he watched his sister cry after she was rescued from that terrible place; he watched his brother cry when he learned that his mother would never come back. he embraced them both, lent them his shoulder, murmured soothing words. it's okay. i'm here. i'll never leave you.

even if they don't do that for him, their presence is enough to reassure him that they mean the same sentiment.

#genshin impact #text #flyingwargle original #drabble #freminet #lyney #lynette #genshin drabble #fontaine siblings #tw: anxiety attack #tw: crying #inspired by lyney's taking damage line #i have a few other ideas about this too #maybe...for whumptober?

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

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Real Love, Baby

A/N: based on this request. Think this’ll be it for tonight cuz I’m exhausted.

Warnings: none.

—-

“Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t keep having this conversation, darling!” Matty fiddled with his hair to give his hands something to do. He turned to look at her. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? How many times do I have to say ‘I’m in this. I’m serious. I want to be with you.’? At some point, I’ve gotta think…maybe you just don’t trust me.”

“It would be a lot easier to believe your declarations of you acted like it. You can’t just tell me you love me, but then shut me out every time I try to get close.” She felt defeated, repeating the same words that she had said to him countless times before, knowing that they’d fall on deaf ears again. as they always did.

“Oh for fucks sakes” Matty mumbled under his breath before she was even finished speaking. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again! Matty, you’re not listening to me. I respect the work that you do. I’m your biggest fan, you know that. But, there’s no room in our relationship for your tricks and sleights of hand. You can’t perform for me, pull the rug out from under me. Leave that at work! Please, I’m begging you!”

The words she spoke broke her own heart. It baffled her that Matty could remain stoic in the face of her ardent pleas. The whole situation scared her. She never thought she would ever find herself in a position where she had to beg a man to love her, or let her love him. Even worse, she never thought that person would be Matty. When they first met, things seemed to come naturally and effortlessly between them. She should’ve known it was too good to last forever. The things is, she was far from a hopeless romantic. In fact, before she’d met Matty and was consumed by him, she used to say that love could hardly be worth the trouble. She thought she respected herself too much to allow herself to hand over her heart like that. She had no idea when that changed, or how she ended up here…the very thing that her past self despised. Love-sick, strung out on him, addicted to his love. Even an idiot would’ve told her the honeymoon phase never lasts.

She didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that Matty didn’t seem to love her anymore, or the fact that she didn’t see it coming.

“I can’t believe this.” Matty shook his head in disbelief. “Are you really using my own work against me? Is that what it’s come to? Why would you do that?”

“You left me no choice!”

“You don’t seem to understand: love isn’t a tangible thing. Love isn’t an object. You can’t prove it or disprove it! You just have to trust me. Why can’t you trust me?”

Hot tears ran down her cheeks like a stream. How could he ever think that she didn’t trust him. “Things are different.” She whimpered. “I used to be able to feel your love. In your touch, your looks, your words….in your eyes. It’s not there anymore.”

“Do you- you can’t be serious.” She scuffed, dismissively. “Are you joking? Do you hear yourself right now? I mean- how am I meant to control my eyes? This is insane.”

“That’s not what I said-“

“You’re asking for the impossible, here. You understand that, right? I can’t prove love. If I could, it wouldn’t be-“ he stopped himself, looking at her with blank eyes, as if he was seeing right through her. As if she wasn’t even there. “why am I arguing with you? You’ve gone insane.” The words hung in the air, echoing in her mind.

She wiped her own tears, watching him as his chest rose and fell. She didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know how to talk to him because she felt like she couldn’t even recognize him anymore. He took a deep breath. “I need a smoke, a zoot, something- I need to get the fuck out of here. I can’t deal with this, right now.”

He headed straight for the door without looking back once. Not even to say goodbye.

***

Matty took off his leather jacket, placing it gently back on the hanger by the door. He wiggled his feet out of his loafers, sighing loudly. He was a bit stoned. But nothing too serious. The long walk, and the joint he’d smoked, helped him to unwind and think about the fight they’d gotten into. To weighed on him, heavily, that she’s been feeling unappreciated and neglected lately. It bothered him even more that this wasn’t the first time in recent memory, that they’ve had this exact same fight. They keep trying to discuss it, only to arrive at the same dead-end. He knew something needed to change, but he didn’t know what it is. All he knew for sure was that he loved her. Wanted her. Needed her. Nothing else mattered to him.

He walked through their home, looking around for her. Maybe they didn’t need to resolve this once and for all, tonight. It’s been a long day for both of them. And he was tired of arguments. Besides, he missed her. He just wanted to hold her, kiss her, and tell her that she’s the love of his life. Tomorrow, once they’d slept on it and had a chance to think things through, they’d discuss it calmly and carefully. As a team. Not as sparring partners, not as debate opponents. They needed to be on the same side again.

Matty rushed into to kitchen, thinking that, perhaps, she was stress baking again, but she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t stress-cleaning either because the laundry room was empty. He ran up the stairs into the bedroom, and the bed hadn’t been touched since he’d made it this morning. She wasn’t in his home studio, or in her office. Her purse and phone were gone. She wasn’t home.

***

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…c’mon, baby.” He muttered.

In the car, Matty connected his phone to the car stereo system, dialing her over and over, but he kept getting sent straight to voicemail. He’s already left her three messages, and she wasn’t picking up his calls. His heart sank as he drove through the streets, thinking about her leaving their home. It was her home. It’s where she belongs. He’d forced her out of it. There was only one place she could be.

***

“Thanks so much, Carl.” Matty thanked the library security man for pointing him in the direction that his girlfriend had gone. He excused himself and walked down the hallway, speeding up the stairs to the fourth floor, skipping two steps at a time.

“There you are! Fuckin’ hell, babe! You scared the shit out of me.” He called out as soon as he saw her sitting at the table, reading in silence. The entire fourth floor was empty. It was only her and the front desk lady.

“Sir, this is the quiet reading floor, no speaking allowed.” The front desk worker cautioned him.

“Give me a fuckin break, there’s literally no one in here.”

The lady simply pointed to the “silence please” sign, making him roll his eyes.

He ignored the librarian’s warnings and rushed right over to his girlfriend. “I know you want proof. I know you want to be sure that I love you. You don’t think I’ve given you enough-“

“You’re not really allowed to be speaking up here.” She attempted to shut him up, but she knew Matty well enough to know it wouldn’t work.

“I don’t know how I can show you that I love you. I trust you. I’m as open with you as I have ever been with anyone. Including myself.”

She brought finger to her own lips, hushing and pretending to read.

“You want to know for a fact that I’m serious about you, but the only way to do that would be literally read my mind. And that’s impossible. Which is why I always say that you can’t know. You can only trust.”

She slapped both ends of the book together, shutting it dramatically as her heart raced. She slid the book onto the table in front of her, looking up at Matty questioningly. He was nothing if not dramatic. She appreciated his enthusiasm, but she wasn’t necessarily asking for some outlandish speech, she was just asking for a bit of his heart.

“I just want you to trust me. If you want proof, I’d that’s what it takes, then I’ll prove it to you: will you marry me? I love you, I want you, will you be my wife?”

#matty healy fanfiction #matty concepts #matty healy fanfic #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy x oc #matty healy oneshot #matty healy angst

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the-insomniac-emporium · 1 month

Text

random RL headcanons: game night edition

Mia is weirdly and inexplicably good at charades/any similar games. just anything to do with abstract communication. Poetry With Neanderthals is a personal favorite of hers.

(silly OC addition: Mia and Caldwell have a game they created for parties that's essentially just an alternate version of charades. Caldwell, who is cursed and cannot speak coherently, draws a prompt from a hat, and has to try to explain it. the audience is split into teams and attempts to guess the prompt. Mia, who is an expert at interpreting Caldwell's speech, is usually barred from playing (the exception being themed rounds where the theme is outside her specialties) and acts as a judge/curates the prompt list)

Angie is both very, very good and very, very bad at Monopoly Cheater's Edition. seems to get better the more she's had to drink, of course. gets caught cheating 90% of the time, but usually manages to pull off something insane near the end of the game.

Bela is surprisingly killer at games like Cards Against Humanity. nobody ever expects her to play the cards she does, no matter how many times they've played with her. equally an expert at games where having a good memory comes in handy.

Cassandra excels at games of deception, trickery, and mindfucks. playing a game like Werewolf with her is honestly insane. will attempt to "seduce" (i.e. distract) players she thinks are close to figuring her out. she's also decent at trivia games, but likes to narrow down the categories if the other players are cool with that.

Dani mostly likes chill, shorter games (the kind where you can play multiple rounds in one sitting), especially card games. I can see her enjoying Here To Slay, Muffin Time, and Happy Little Dinosaurs. on a semi-related note I think she low-key went through a magic trick/sleight of hand phase, but these days she doesn't usually do tricks unless she's had a couple drinks and someone brings it up.

Miranda prefers 1v1 games... on the rare occasion where someone (*cough* MC *cough*) convinces her to play. she's decent at actual chess, but is prone to starting out overconfident, only to end up getting flustered towards the end because she overthinks her moves. do not play checkers with her. she will win. you will lose. you will lose by an embarrassingly large margin.

Alcina is only slightly more interested in games than Miranda, and usually uses them as an excuse to socialize. likes big group games where there are opportunities to chat with other players while someone else makes their turn. probably plays the kinds of games that I've seen on TV a lot (classics like Mahjong) but don't personally have enough experience to talk about.

Donna kicks ass at pool, but almost never plays. you (and Angie) would have to talk her into it. totally worth it tho, because she'll have a lot of fun, especially if you're on her team and let her "show you the ropes". if you catch my drift ;) aka that thing where she'll lean a lot of her body against you, her arms alongside yours, helping move you into position. that thing tv shows/movies do to increase sexual tension between two characters.

Mia is also unfairly good at darts. it's honestly really attractive.

#I've been watching too much Smosh Games while doing art #it's my whole brain right now #resident lover #the angie hc is somewhat ironically inspired by angela from smosh #that shit she pulled in monopoly lives rent free in my brain

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giggly-squiggily · 3 months

Note

yayyy candy hearts! Can I request 💗 Say Yes for Joseph and Caesar from jjba part 2?

{Candy Heart Prompts: OFFICIALLY CLOSED!}

This was so FUN! :D God I've never written for Caesar and Joseph before, but I had a literal blast writing them for this prompt! I've gotcha covered, anon!

Say Yes: "Hey, what are you- give that back!"

“JOJO!”

“Come get it, Caesar!”

Oh, he was gonna kill this pezzo di merda! Caesar ran after the giggly brunette as Joseph jumped over chairs and slid under tables, an all too familiar bandanna in hand. “Jojo, give that back, right now!”

“I told you- come and get it! My, do you want me to say it in Italian so you’ll understand? Vieni-MERDE!” Joseph yelped as he was unceremoniously tackled into the ground, shoving at Caesar’s face as the blonde tried to grab his stolen headwear. “Oo, too slow! Come on, reach for it!”

“You son of a- hand it over!” The battle was on, Joseph and Caesar wrestling along the ground like two toddlers fighting over a toy. “Jojo!”

“Sorry, but you’re too slow!” With a flick of his wrist, Joseph made the bandanna disappear- his sleight of hand coming into play as he did jazz fingers. “Tada! I’ve made your bandanna disappear! And now- AH!”

“Bring. It. Back. Now!” Caesar growled, roughly digging into the brunette’s sides as Joseph jerked and squawked beneath him, laughter booming through the room. “I’m serious! If you don’t give it back, I’ll kill you where you lay!”

“Ahehahahhahaha! Chahahahheheheheser! Cohoohome oohoohoh, I whahahhas kihiihihidding! Gehahahhahaha!” Joseph kicked and squirmed- clawing at the hands kneading the ever living life out of his waist. If he didn't act sooner, he was a dead man! “Thahahahek thiiiihhihis!” He cried, grabbing Caesar’s hands in his own, trapping them. “Thehehere! Now whahat?”

Caesar raised a brow at him. Then he smirked.

Joseph saw his life flash before his eyes.

“OH NO-NOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHO!” The brunette all but shrieked when Caesar ducked his head down, blowing a massive raspberry against his bare skin. His fashion choices were the death of him. “CHAHAHHAHAHESHAHAHHAHR!”

“Bandanna. Now!” Caesar growled as he took another breath, blowing a devastating raspberry against his skin. Joseph frantically pulled said garment from the back of his shirt, tossing it to the blonde. “Good. See? What that so hard?”

“Gehahha..hahahaha…yohohohou’re cruhuhuhuel for thahahaht…” Joseph wheezed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he gasped for air. Caesar merely laughed, tying his prize around his head.

“That’s what you get when you mess with Caesar Zeppeli- hey, what are you- Give that back!” Caesar’s victory taunt was cut short when Joseph stuck a finger in his pocket, snatching his wallet. “JOJO!”

“Come get it, Caesar!” Joseph laughed as he took off running once more, starting their game all over.

#Candy Heart Valentine Event #chve2k24 #tickle #tickle dabble #jjba #battle tendency #joseph joestar #caesar zeppeli #fluff #they're dorks your honor

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Text

Hunk could not believe the shit he was seeing with his own two eyes. Just — right in front of him. Blatantly.

Alright, hold on a second. Let him back it up.

See, Hunk has known Lance since they were literal infants. They go way back. And never, not once in their lives, has Lance been taller than Hunk. For a long time, actually, Lance wasn’t taller than anyone — he was a scrap of a child if you’ve ever seen one. A smurf, really. One of Santa’s elves.

He was a short ass kid, is the point Hunk is trying to make.

Even when he suddenly shot up like a particularly stubborn dandelion when he was sixteen, growing a foot and a half in three months, he still never managed to get taller than Hunk’s chin.

Something that amused Hunk to no end, but something he wouldn’t dare voice: Lance, as a former short king, took jokes about his height as sleights against his very honour and livelihood. You wanted to see Lance stand to his full height and insult people like a Victorian nobleman who’s family line had been questioned? Imply in any way, shape, or form that his height left something to be desired.

He’s very sensitive about it.

That’s why Hunk sits there, jaw dropped and eyes narrowed in indignation, as he watches Lance struggle to reach a cabinet door.

Well. ‘Struggle’.

You must understand. Lance not struggle with height related obstacles. If there is something that is too high for him to reach, he will grit his teeth and find a damn way. In fifth grade, Lance’s older brother Marco had accidentally put his skateboard away in the garage storage on the shelves by the ceiling, and instead of asking for help like a normal person, Lance scaled the side of the wall, latched himself to the rafters, and crawled upside-down to reach the skateboard. Ten feet in the goddamn air. Above a cement floor. He then proceeded to hang from the rafters by only his legs and wiggle his skateboard free, then he jumped from the goddamn fucking ceiling to the floor.

ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS ASK HIS MOTHER TO GET OUT THE THRICE DAMNED LADDER.

But no. Of course not. Under no circumstance, even the intense risk to his immediate safety, would Lance risk a comment on his height.

Lance would have no trouble climbing up on the counter and scaling his way up the cabinets to reach whatever he needs. Hunk’s seen him do it on several occasions. So have Shiro and Coran; it stresses them out to the point where it amuses even Hunk.

So why on Earth — or in space — is Lance acting like he’s helpless?

“Keith?” Lance calls, straining on his very tiptoes to reach a jar of spices. “Can you grab that jar for me? It’s a little out of my reach.”

No. No. No way. It can’t be.

Lance is forgoing his honour for a man?

No! Hunk cannot believe what he is hearing with his own ears! Seeing with his own eyes! Processing with his own brain!

Hunk once saw Lance judo flip a boy for offering to help him reach the books from the top shelf of his locker! In the hallway! Shamelessly! And the boy was cute, too, even to Hunk’s objective eyes!

But now Lance is feigning helplessness! For what? To simp?

For fuck’s sake — what happened to feminism?

Hunk is disgusted. Revolted. What is this slander, this unholy display of wanton sensuability. In the kitchen. Where people eat.

“Sure,” Keith says, and Hunk is so beyond words that he can’t even appreciate how immediately Keith abandoned what he was doing to go do whatever Lance asked of him.

(Well. Hunk appreciated it a little. But, you know. Hyperbole. Hunk’s fond of it.)

Instead of stepping to the side and letting Keith grab it like a normal person, Lance stays exactly where he is, hand still outstretched. In no way is Keith deterred by this, and simply lays a hand on Lance’s hip, leaning against him as he easily stretches up his free hand to grab the jar of spices.

“Here,” Keith says, one hand still very much on Lance’s hip.

“Thanks, man,” Lance responds, batting his eyelashes. He takes it with a smile, ducking his head and tucking his hair behind his ear.

Hunk is going to vomit for real. What is this absolutely sickening behaviour he’s seeing?

“Anytime,” Keith whispers, and he sounds so whipped that Hunk is genuinely embarrassed for him.

God. This is — this is horrible.

Look, the thing is — the thing is that Hunk does not need to be here. It’s not his turn to make dinner. It’s Keith and Lance’s turn. Usually, though, when these two knuckleheads do anything together, another member of the team watches them to record the Klance Shenanigans in the Embarrassment Folder that they all playfully shake their heads at later. Hunk was free, so he volunteered this time.

But he was expecting to see some playful flirting and occasional flushed face, and of course endless banter.

Not whatever this is.

(Is Hunk truly, actually disgusted by this behaviour? No. Of course not. He wants nothing more than for his best friends to be happy, and he knows they are and will be together.

But come on.

Come on.

Have they no self-respect? It may be the fact that he’s ace, but personally if he ever pretended to be helpless so his crush could do something for him and then spend the next several minutes staring gooily into their eyes, he’d be just a little bit humiliated.

But that’s him.)

“Is this spice for the meat or the sauce?” Keith asks, finally breaking away from their Stare-Down Of Infatuation And Probably Also Lust.

“The sauce,” Lance replies. Keith nods, walking a couple steps away from Lance and to the stovetop.

He cuts a quick glance to Lance — who has returned to rummaging around the cabinets and is not looking — and grins a little bit to himself.

Hunk narrows his eyes.

Oh, he better not —

“Oh, jeez. Lance, could you help me open this jar? The lid’s on real tight.”

That whore!

Hunk cannot believe his eyes! Again!

This is ridiculous. Preposterous!

Besides the fact that Keith’s absolutely fucking stacked, he’s just as stubborn as Lance when it comes to asking for help. Like, last week, Keith was on dinner duty with Hunk. He was struggling for real to open an airtight Altean container, and instead of asking Hunk — who, obviously, is also very jacked, and has been in the past the only non-Altean able to open said containers — he activated his blade and cut the lid clean off.

Yeah.

Really.

So why was Hunk seeing him ask Lance to open a jar? It doesn’t — no! Why! Even if Keith was truly struggling, Lance has noodle arms! He’s bulked up a little since they came to space, sure, but still! Pidge calls Lance beanstalk for a reason!

“Sure,” Lance chirps, taking the jar and easily opening it with one twist, proving Hunk’s point that Keith is full of shit.

They’re both so full of shit.

“You’re the best,” Keith says, beaming at Lance, and —

Hunk’s done. Nope.

“I am making my leave,” Hunk announces loudly, startling Dumb and Dumber, who’ve no doubt forgotten Hunk was in the room.

“Oh, did you have something else to do?” Lance asks, expression wide-eyed and would-be innocent were it not for the slightest smirk on his face, and Hunk imagines his asshole best friend behind bars for his own piece of mind.

“I’ve just remembered that I have to invent brain bleach with Pidge,” he deadpans, and neither Asshole A or Asshole B look at all apologetic.

“Good luck with that,” Keith even says, and now Hunk’s imagining him behind bars, too.

“You are going to answer for your sins in the deepest pits of hell,” Hunk informs them.

“You’re an atheist,” Lance responds, without a second of hesitation.

“You make me wish I wasn’t so I could hold a god accountable for what I just witnessed,” Hunk shoots back, equally as quickly.

Keith laughs, marking him to loser of their little stand-off.

“Sorry, Hunk,” he says sheepishly. “I forgot you were there.”

“Obviously,” Hunk drawls.

Keith grins. “We promise to tone it down next time?”

Hunk rolls his eyes. “Will you.”

“I promise nothing,” Lance adds, reaching around to squeeze Keith’s ass, literally, without an ounce of shame.

Keith grins harder.

“I don’t understand you two. You’re not even dating.”

Keith shrugs. “We’ll get there.”

“Plus,” Lance says, “the only reason we haven’t made it official yet is because we’re really enjoying making the rest of you hate us. It’s pretty funny.”

“You’re literally incorrigible.”

“Mhm.”

“I regret becoming friends with you.”

“Unfortunate for you! The exchange period has expired! You’re stuck with me!”

“I know, you insufferable jackass,” Hunk says, but he sounds fond even to his own ears.

Lance grins. Keith shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

“Love you, Hunk!” they say at the same time.

Hunk waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever,” Hunk says, heading for the door. “I kind of love you too, I guess. Don’t burn dinner because you’re too busy making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“We won’t!”

They do.

No one is surprised.

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hippoinspector · 2 years

Photo

who’s this freak

a few weeks ago i wasn’t really into mobswitch. i thought it was interesting but i could never really dig my teeth into it. and then last week the thought popped into my head “what if innovator had a fucked up magician thing going on” and i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. and now i’m going to share it all with you. thank you to @inkwell-intermission for helping me with the magicians outfit and for also developing with me our little mobswitch au. you’re everything to me

(more under cut)

he’s a bit more “off-kilter” (as the mspa wiki calls pi) than pickle inspector, but in a “"fun”" way. he’s sort of like a jester-esque character... classic magician shit. a little bit over the top and enthusiastic about what he does

what he does is, as it says in the job description, magic. he performs at casinos run by the twilight scoundrels doing all sorts of stuff. sometimes people get killed in front of a live audience. its fine!

he has a whole range of abilities that stem from him pretty much being his own patron horrorterror (dpi). he could probably do anything he wanted since he’s pretty much a god, but he doesn’t bother with like. taking over the world or anything because then who would he perform for? that doesn’t sound like very much fun.

he also could be the boss of the scoundrels but he lets scofflaw do it because 1) scoff has enough inferiority issues already so he might as well give him something to do and 2) as stated by eugene, "if he’s busy making phone calls and breaking kneecaps and setting up supply chains and counterfeiting rings and rigging casinos then he has no time to perform or for his pet projects (deadeye)"

did i mention he loves performing? he does. a lot. he wears sleeve garters and keeps his clothing relatively tight because he’s not performing some low-brow sleight-of-hand (in front of an audience at least), he’s performing Real Magic. also he hates cheating and people who cheat at his games. if there’s anything he absolutely does Not do it’s cheating

one of his specialties is changing what’s on the face of a playing card to look like a trap of some sort. (pulls out a card) “is this your card?” and then the person finds themselves in that trap suddenly. maybe like an enclosed water tank that the person is tied up in and cant get out of and at the last minute they’re suddenly back out of the tank on their feet (before they collapse of course)

sometimes he does acrobatics/trapeze shit at his show just because i think it’s fun

sometimes he’ll goop-ify himself or just start oozing from his eyes or whatever. his whole body can start melting whenever he wants he’s so gross. along this vein he can also distort himself to look like other people (especially whoever it is he’s confronting)

innovator goop is like oil. because of this he is Very Very weak against fire. he cannot get too close to it without risking burning up.

worst part of this is, much like my idea of pickle inspector, innovator is very cold-sensitive. to counteract that on top of wearing very warm clothes during the cold seasons he also insulates his clothes with shadow magic to keep himself warm. usually wears gloves unless it’s warm enough out that he doesn’t need them

nefarious bawd acts as his assistant on occasion during shows. they are both [THIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED BY THE MODERATORS]

he and deadeye detective are also both [THIS POST HAS BEEN REMOVED BY THE MODERATORS].

im probably forgetting other stuff but Whatever. i hope you guys like my idea of this little freak

#mobsterswitch #pernicious innovator #twilight scoundrels #problem sleuth #my art

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hedgiwithapen · 8 months

Note

Prompt for Dammit Hedgi Day: Paradox Pack circus AU, with or without powers (yes this is bc I rec'd you The Circus Infinite)

Outside of set up or tear down, Clubs never set foot on stage. From the moment he'd turned up, dripping from the rain outside Jenna "The Nightingale" Clarke's trailer, that much was clear. He'd be up with the sunrise, loading or unloading whatever needed to be moved, but by the time crowds started to gather, he'd find some task to do well out of sight.

It worked out well enough. The Paradox Pack was a small enough crew, reusing what it had to to fill out the stage and the time. With Sungdog's dazzling light show juxtaposed as a bookend against Darkling's sleights of hand (and body), they only needed a few other acts. Butterfly's ribbon acrobatics and dancing was always as much a showstopper as Dynamo's lightning juggling or Nightingale's trapeze and aerial silks act. They all pitched in for smaller things between the big acts. It kept the lights on, both in the trailers and on the stage.

They never asked who he was hiding from, but it was clear he was hiding. It was nothing new to any of them.

He could always run.

It was Nightingale who coaxed him backstage, one night of the performances. "Just to watch," she said. "Get some ideas for if you ever want to try something."

"I could get you a mask," Butterfly said. Her sister took care of all the costumes, from Darkling's black cloak to the dazzling blue leotard Nightingale wore, perfectly matched to her silks, or the blue shapes she made with light to glimmer alongside her. When they dropped by Halcyon City, adjustments were made, and the rest of the time Butterfly made sure everything was in shape for the show. "Or Dynamo could do something with the lighting so no one could see your face..."

"Thanks, Clubs said, nervously checking that his blond hair curled behind his ear. Dynamo's gift with electricity lent itself well to making the stage appear different for every act, with nothing more than some cheaply painted backdrops and a couple of color filters. "I'd rather just... watch, for now."

He did love what he saw, even just when he watched the practices. There was real beauty in the way they used their abilities, elegant and composed. He'd said as much, and nearly offended Butterfly, the lone powerless member of the pack. He stammered out that he didn't mean just their powers, but their skills and their joy in using them, and they'd gone back to watching Sundog fill the stage with a miniature star, bursting it into a fanfare of fireworks. Butterfly had left him standing at the curtain to make her own entrance amidst the glitter.

He didn't tell her that she was the one he was most jealous of.

November nights were cold in Halcyon. The patchy frost on the rooftops had been expected, normal, even if it clearly put Nightingale on edge.

"After this show, we'll head south again," Dynamo promised, to Clubs's very obvious relief, and fainter relief from Nightingale and Darkling. Butterfly had flashed a thumbs up, promising to work things out with her sister for the newest costumes. The Show had gone on.

In the middle of one of Nightingale's acts, singing from a high platform with blue light trailing behind her like wings, someone without a ticket burst in, a hunter who'd finally caught up to prey.

Ice spread from the supervillain Shiver's hands, down the aisle and through the audience to the stage. From where he stood in the wings, Clubs could see the way the platform, which already swayed, trembled as frost weakened the rivets. Clubs could see the way the woman's stare froze Nightingale on her perch.

He could see that she would fall.

He could run. He had before. He could now.

There were too many people in the audience to hide from them all, but in the moment that the platform gave way, none of that mattered. He ran.

And jumped.

And caught her.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #Paradox Pack #Clubs the Bull #my masks game my beloved :)

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12pt-times-new-roman · 10 months

Text

"Sleight burst in time" excuse me?? what does that MEAN, matthew?? (I'm sure it's just hand-waving the time disparity, which is totally fine, but I wouldn't be surprised if this actually meant something)

"You're abstaining from being undecided?" "Yeah!" Never change, Ashton.

That's the thing, though. FCG is the only one who's staunchly pro-gods, yes, but everyone else is undecided -- they don't have the information they need. Chetney is right, history is written by the winners and the gods have almost always won, they don't know the other side of the story; but when the other side of the story is something that the Ruby Vanguard wants, you'd think that would be a moon-sized red flag. The issue is that the Bells Hells are not grasping or being reminded that the Vanguard is the fucking problem.

They need information they don't have, and now that they're in a place as ancient as Zephrah, they might finally be able to find it. Questioning Predathos' badness is, well, questionable, but not unreasonable; when the Ruby Vanguard wants it, it's probably bad. But questioning whether Ludinus is evil or not, like Laudna just did? Nah. That's not a fucking question, it's not a gray area. And I also just noticed that no one has mentioned Otohan during these arguments in at least a dozen episodes, which is.... concerning.

They continue to head farther into the Gray Valley. They pass by a massive patch of desecrated ground where the ghosts of soldiers still drift, like in the Barbed Fields. "A part of history forced to relive itself over and over again." Beyond that, a hill with a massive cleft down the middle with a structure that's emanating a smell of burning meat.

is.... is that the worst group stealth check they've ever had? 7 fails against 4 successes?

Time for combat! 2 vrocks descend on them.

It's definitely interesting that Matt isn't putting them in initiative order. This is a pretty easy encounter for their level, and maybe it's because of that or because it was a failed stealth check (hence why he doesn't have a map ready), but iirc last time they tried to do combat without initiative order it did not go well, so this not being an absolute clusterfuck is a testament to their skill tbh

They continue to approach the hill. They see a stone fort, very well-built but heavily damaged, at the base of the cleft. There are a few small plumes of smoke rising from it.

Orym recognizes this as the Erudin Bastion, an extension of a temple to Bahamut built in the center of the Gray Valley to keep watch on the demonic activities here. It acted as an early warning system for abyssal incursions from the area. But Chetney, using grim psychometry has a vision, red, like he's looking through a stained glass window. Not long ago, this structure was active, people walked it; then, shouts, flames, dark energy. One by one, the screams are snuffed. Not more than a few days ago.

Well, I don't think Matt could make this any more clear to them.

The team splits up. Half of them climb up the hill with the intent to feather fall down, while the other sneaks up on the ground.

From above, they see the remnants of a terrible battle, bodies and limbs put up on pikes as decoration. Little impish demons fly throughout. A few larger figures walk about this demonic "encampment," warriors with massive swords and wings, keeping watch and looking around. They also make out three iron cages that hold humanoid captives. Lastly, on a stage-like platform, some imps are drawing multiple large ritual circles -- they're building something, preparing something.

Hey, remember last time we saw this happening? Remember how those demons were making ritual circles intended to bring more demons through? Remember how they were working for Tharizdun?

oh so that's why this episode is 5 hours long. that's big map

And, just to top it all off, a massive demon with fur and little wings lands from above.

FCG casts tongues so they can understand them. The larger demon speaks: "hurry, I must feast soon. Prepare, then celebrate."

From an alcove, something grabs one of the sentries, there's a burst of flame, and the sentry doesn't come back out. A figure emerges -- a humanoid, deep red skin, a mane of grayish hair and a beard, handlebar horns, and leathery wings. It seems like this is a fiend (possibly a devil of some kind, based on the red skin) who's taking out these demons. (the way I thought this was Ryn at first--)

Ashton putting the immovable rod in the hammer is so fucking cool!!! That's so sick. Tal really channeled Percy with that one.

Matt is good at miming??? (Also, who gave Sam access to verbs?)

Now we roll initiative. I get the feeling that this combat will take up the majority of the rest of the episode.

In one of the cages, Orym sees two figures: a female soldier with a broken arm, and a small gnomish figure with tattered Tempest Blade armor.

Fearne makes it to the seemingly-friendly fiendish creature. "Who are you?" "A friend." They, with a 30 persuasion check from Fearne, steps into the light. "I have no friends. But for now, we are not enemies." They step past Fearne and raise their sword.

Matt's using the Obann mini, so I'm assuming this guy is some kind of devil. Which has some fucking wild implications regarding the Betrayer Gods right now, if devils are actively fighting against abyssal holds on Exandria.

FCG gets stress points from using bonded blessing?

Imogen casts minute meteors! (I've always pronounced it minUTE, not MINute, but whatever.) this is one of my all-time favorite spells, and I think it's what widogast's web of fire was based on.

Their devil non-enemy flies over to one of the demons, and their sword does radiant damage! They deal a shit ton of damage (84!), and they're a fucking paladin multiclass who can cast 7th level spells.

Laudna using form of dread, unlocking the cage, shouting "you're free!", then immediately climbing into the cage herself is peak comedy.

Oh hey! Ashley remembered enhanced bond!

The devil takes more strikes against the demons. They get a flanking bonus with Chetney, so they are -- at leash mechanically -- considered an "ally." They deal 56 damage with 2 attacks, and Chetney flirts with them.

Chetney gets a kill with bloated agony! To the devil, "now, the big one." "Do not give me orders."

After three disarming strikes, Orym finally disarms the largest demon, and sends its sword spiraling to the ground.

Some vrocks come flying in, piling on. At this point, it's pretty clear that Matt intends for them to release the people in these cages so they can help, because this encounter is far more than the Bells Hells can handle alone.

FCG's spell save is 15?? That's so fucking low, what the hell? At level 10, their save should be at least 17.

Ohhhh, that's also an interesting rules interaction! Because Ashton's subclass is custom, I can't comment on it as extensively, but. One of Ashton's abilities pushes the creature they hit 5 feet away, breaking the grapple the creature had on them.

Imogen goes down, and Laudna challenges the demon that did it. "Let's go, bitch."

Orym makes a devastating blow against the main demon creature in protection of Laudna and Imogen and everyone in the cages.

Gods, Laudna just throwing everything into this one turn after the demon knocks Imogen unconscious, unloading all her spells trying to get away and deal damage........ cinematic glory. AND THEN Marisha using a nat1 to reinforce their love, to just simply stand between Imogen and the demon in her form of dread? peak pining lesbian romance. peak "oh god I'm in love with my best friend and I can't let the rest of the friend group know" energy. FCG gets Imogen up with a healing word, she prevents it from taking reactions, and she quickens invisibility on both her and Laudna. what a fucking turn, Laura Bailey--

"In her head, she hears, 'run away.'" "I say back, 'you do the same.'" And Imogen, because the demon can't take an attack of opportunity, just fucking bolts away.

The devil paladin takes their turn again, pumping a divine smite into their attack. They kill one demon with 77 points of damage, then darts to another one.

A voice enters Chetney's mind. "Take what you have taken. Together, we will do great things." Achievement unlocked: Travis gets a sentient sword

and the main demon teleports away. Orym, holding on to it, falls to the ground. It attempts to make an escape (♫ make an escape ♫). However, the people within the cages begin to make their way out.

As combat winds down, Fearne gets the HDYWTDT on the primary demon leader. Her spell glitters over them, causing lots of pain while looking like an absolutely beautiful display of vines and glitter.

The threat, in the moment, is quelled. Ashton checks, and the power being directed to the ritual circles is interrupted, and they are broken. The Bells Hells breaks open the rest of the cages -- in them, there are two members of the Tempest Blades (Jennis and Errana) and Bearnie, Orym's sister, tending to a dislocated shoulder. Orym bolts into a run toward Bearnie, who runs and gives him a hug. "Take it slow, take it slow." There's a heaping sob before she pulls away from Orym. "I knew they'd come for us, but I didn't think it'd be you." "It's just chance... the Tempest sent us out, just in time, it looks like." "I think so."

The devil lands nearby and approaches. "I am Tevon Klaust... I am one of the many champions of Asmodeus; some watch his domain, and others, like me, act in many realms. To some, I am known as the retribution of the Hells -- an infiltrator, assassin, and scout. To me? I do what is necessary. To whom do you owe fealty?" "Myself." "You... you are outside the knotted weave. While I know not the details, something brews in Exandria that has left my lord shaken, and me with the unique orders to, unless aggression comes to me, work with those who work under the Prime Deities or outside of them. You are lucky today that we meet on common ground; the future does not hold so much grace." "So you're working to help the gods?" "I'm working to help my god. And in some ways, all of the gods, in this moment. Remember they are brethren... this armistice has historical precedent, so do not feel nervous. Enjoy it while it lasts -- lest you seek new interests in your future? There are many gifts that are granted on certain paths."

Fearne holds his attention. "What does that entail, if I were to follow Asmodeus?" "An eternity of purpose, strength, and pleasures for those who fall under his shadow. You walk in the mud of the lowly demon princes. They are outside the divine order and likely stir in the wake of these times; pay them no mind. They are chaos without meaning." He takes Fearne's hand and kisses it. Her hand burns -- but burning doesn't frighten her. On her center knuckle, there's almost a tattoo of a black horned crown (the holy symbol of Asmodeus). "We are allies today. Perhaps, in the future, we will be allies again. The path is open; all you need to do is ask for his aid. Do you accept these terms?" "Let's do it, I'm in." "The pact is sealed... we will meet again." "Promise?" "Unbindingly."

I'm--

Oh no.

He flies up and speaks down to them. "The sky goes red to the south. I think our destinies are entwined." He teleports away.

This just made it so fucking clear that the Bells Hells know criminally little about the pantheon for people acting like they have any kind of authority to decide whether they live or die.

Bearnie led the expedition and expected to use the Bastion as a place of safety, unaware that it had fallen. The survivors were kept for a celebratory feast, for when they brought through the rest of their group. The main demon called itself Extevass the Gluttonous, a servant of Vrudaulin, a demon prince.

They scavenge for materials and head out into the Gray Valley. Bearnie leads them to a hillside, where she magically carves a cavern and closes it behind them for an enclosed campsite.

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role campaign 3 #critical role spoilers #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog

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flieslikeamoron · 10 months

Text

Okay, here's the rest!

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

I'm not going to tell you the words I use too much because once I point them out you won't stop seeing it lol. But I do have recurring things. I write a lot of people getting drunk. I don't drink so that's kind of funny, but it's a useful way to write people at their silliest or their most truthful or to loosen up a tough nut, make a control freak lose control, etc. I write a lot of secret relationships. I write a lot of us against the world stuff, and I do love it when that relationship is a bit too close to be "healthy." I like making people who don't want to, or are scared to, fall in love fall in love. I write a lot of pining. I love pining while fucking especially. I'm sure there are others.

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Characterization always. I'll never sacrifice character for a plot point. And I think my characters are distinct. Like the characters I write for one fandom aren't the same ones I write in every fandom. Dialogue that sounds like how people talk. Porn is my art etc.

64. Something you love to see in smut.

Specificity. I don't mean specific sex acts, or some specific description of them. But smut that's specific to the characters in that story. I feel like a lot of people write generic sex scenes. The same generic porn dialogue. The same generic tab a in slot b stuff. No matter what fandom or characters, it's the same scenes. I don't mean writers need to come up with more creative, weirder, kinkier sex acts. (I'm pro-kink but that's not what I mean.) No a simple blowjob, a handjob, ass fucking, whatever. Even if you're talking about the basics those things shouldn't be generic. All sex shares some basic building blocks, but the sex you have with different partners is different! If the smut could be cut/pasted into any fic, that's boring. That's why people talk about skipping over smut scenes. It's because it's the same scenes we've all read before. It's because it's like you've stopped telling your story to "INSERT SMUT HERE" instead of making the smut part of the story.

What's actually hot is thinking about how these characters, these very individual and specific ones, would get each other off. So what I love to see in smut are little things, little intimacies that feel specific to these two people. I like it when the way they're talking to each other and touching each other and turning each other on feels specific to them, and also specific to the situation. Like in Sleight of Hand the first blowjob Eddie gives Steve is a very different vibe from the first blowjob Steve gives Eddie, and it's because those are different characters in different situations. Just... Specificity.

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of Sleight of Hand?

Yeah, some of the ones I can remember... There was a thing where Eddie finds the nail bat. There was going to be a thing where Eddie and Jonathan talk, and Eddie asks him if he's ever worried Nancy will go back to Steve. There was going to be a thing where Steve and Eddie fuck on ecstasy. I took a thing with everybody at the diner out of chapter 18. IDK lots of things. Most of them never got fully written anyway, but I had like four or five versions of the nail bat scene. In the end I needed Eddie trusting Steve to put on the cuffs, and no matter how I tried to write it, it just introduced too much doubt. I spent a few days writing all these versions trying to get them back to status quo by the end so I could get on with the rest of the fic. But I was trying to force it so it wouldn't affect the rest of the plot, and that always plays false.

Since I'm already all up in my cut folder, here's a DVD deleted scene. It was going to be either when they're going to Dustin's or when they're going to the lake. Either way it doesn't work.

---

“Um, Steve?” Eddie says. “Why is there a bat with fucking nails through it in your trunk?” Ah. Steve had sort of forgotten that was back there. Eddie hefts it in his hand, and swings it experimentally. “This is like post-apocalyptic, man. It’s like Snake Plissken shit.” He looks at the nail end more closely. “Does this have blood on it?”

Not human blood. Steve takes the bat out of Eddie’s hand and puts it back in his trunk. Closes it like if he can’t see it, Eddie will forget about the whole thing. He grasps desperately for a believable lie. It’s for emergencies? It’s for car trouble? Self-defense? “It was for Halloween,” is what he comes up with.

“Halloween was forever ago,” Eddie says skeptically. “Why’s it still in your trunk?”

“I forgot it was there.”

Eddie keeps looking at him, sharp-eyed. Seeing right through him. “What costume was it?”

Jesus. If this is going to be a whole interrogation, Steve’s not going to hold up under questioning. “That guy,” he tries. “Snake Pimpkin?”

Eddie snorts. “You know I can tell when you’re lying, right? You’re fucking bad at it.”

“Can we go?” Steve says. “You can keep bugging me in the car if you want.”

“I’m not bugging you,” Eddie says, but he gets into the passenger’s seat. Thank God. Steve quickly follows and starts pulling out so Eddie can’t change his mind. “It’s a little weird that you have an apocalypse bat,” Eddie says. ”But it’s very, very weird you’re lying about it.”

“You lie about stuff.”

“Not stuff like- Weapons.” He frowns. “Is it- Billy? Or those guys?” Steve tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Eddie looks at him disbelieving. “You’re really not gonna tell me?”

What if Steve just said it. Just- Monsters are real. They killed Barb. They killed that guy who worked at the Radio Shack. Maybe Eddie would believe him. He’s into all that fantasy stuff. He knows what a demogorgon is. At least the version in his D&D books. But- Monsters in books is different. Steve doesn’t know if he could tell it well enough to make Eddie believe him when it sounds fucking crazy. Demodogs and government conspiracies and possessed little kids and underground tunnels and things coming out of the fucking walls… Hell, he barely believed it himself the first time, and he actually saw it.

Steve looks at him, agonized.

”Wow,” he says. “You’re really not. I’m-” Eddie pulls some of his hair in front of his mouth, looking at Steve like he’s never seen him before. Studying him. “I think- I need a minute to adjust here.”

“What do mean- Adjust.”

“I mean this is bigger, and it’s fucking weirder, than the kind of secret I thought you were capable of keeping. So if I was wrong about that-” He shrugs. “Who fucking knows.”

“So you can’t trust me if I don’t tell you,” Steve says. “But if I do, you won’t fucking believe me.”

“You don’t know I wont believe you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve mutters. He looks over at Eddie. “I don’t- Ask you about your mom or your dad or-” Or where you learned to suck cock or why you don’t want me to tell you how I feel about you.

Something hard ticks over Eddie’s face. “Yeah?” he says. “And I don’t ask you where your bruises come from, or why you have nightmares so bad you came looking for me in the first place, or why you’re not okay even though you keep fucking saying you’re okay-”

“I get it,” Steve breaks in.

“I’d say we’re pretty even on the mind your business front.” Eddie kicks at the footwell, his arms crossed defensively. Steve keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t- He can’t think of anything to say. To make it better. “We all have our secrets,” Eddie finally says, relenting. “You can have yours. But this feels different.”

“I want to tell you,” Steve says. “But it sounds crazy. And I can’t- Prove it.” And the gate is closed. “And the reason I have that,” Steve says. “It’s gone now.”

Eddie cocks his head. “If it’s gone, why is the bat still in your trunk?”

Steve swallows, jaw clenching. Why does he still have the bat? He knows why. He just- Tries not to think about that. He dips his head in acknowledgement. “Because, I don’t believe it’s really gone. For good.”

Eddie rubs at his face with his hands, looking up at Steve a little wild in the eyes. “None of this is inspiring faith, man.”

“If the reason I have that bat ever becomes a- Thing you need to know about. If it does ever come back, I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” Steve says. “Can you trust me?”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment, looks at him like he’s trying to see all the way inside him. And then gives a one shouldered shrug. “Fine. Keep your secrets."

#writing #ask game #my fic: sleight of hand #deleted scenes

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