#but then it goes in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prokopetz · 1 day

Note

Honestly it's weird that roleplaying as we know it evolved from historical wargaming.

Like for example DBA rules contain some suggestions for running campaigns with narrative and "propaganda" so I wouldn't say that it's something incompatible, and 0E looks way more like wargames than say PbtA games do, but storytelling games were a feature of artistic salons for way longer and they appear much closer to roleplaying than rulesets for reenacting ancient battles on tabletop.

Salon games didn't have skill checks but neither did wargames and it's strange that nobody came up with simplistic skill checks to add uncertainty and realism to the game

I think the line is a lot clearer when the role of dice and rules in tabletop roleplaying games is correctly understood.

"Uncertainty" and "realism" are, at best, secondary to what the dice are actually doing. Even most tabletop RPGs get it wrong when they try to explain themselves – they'll talk about the rules as something to fall back on to prevent schoolyard arguments (i.e., "yes I did!/no you didn't!") from derailing the story, when in fact it's the exact opposite.

If we look at freeform roleplaying as an illustrative parallel, we see that, while newly formed groups may in fact fall to bickering when a consensus can't be reached about what ought to happen next, mature and well-established groups tend instead to fall prey to excessive consensus-seeking: the impulse to always find an outcome that isn't necessarily one which everybody at the table can be happy with, but at the very least one which everybody at the table can agree is reasonable – and that's a lot more constraining than one might think.

In this sense, the role of picking up the dice isn't to build consensus, but to break it – to allow for the possibility of outcomes which nobody at the table wanted or expected. It's the "well, this is happening now" factor that prevents the table's dynamic from ossifying into endless consensus-seeking about what reasonably ought to happen next.

Looking to the history of wargames, this is precisely the innovation they bring to the table. Early historical wargames tended to be diceless affairs which decided outcomes by deferring to the judgment of a referee or other subject matter expert, but the use of randomisers increasingly came to be favoured because referees would tend to favour the most reasonable course, precluding upsets and rendering the outcomes of entire battles a foregone conclusion. This goes all the way back to the roots of tabletop wargaming – people were literally having "rules versus rulings" arguments two hundred years ago!

(This isn't the only facet of tabletop roleplaying culture which has its roots in wargaming culure, of course. For example, you can draw a direct line from the preoccupation of early tabletop RPGs with punishing the use of out-of-character knowledge to historical wargaming's gentleperson's agreement to refrain from making decisions based on information that one's side's commanders couldn't possibly have possessed when re-creating historical battles.)

To be clear, I don't necessarily disagree that salon games could have yielded something like modern tabletop RPGs. However, first they'd have had to arrive at the paired insights that a. excessive consensus-seeking is poison to building an interesting narrative; and b. randomisers can be used to force the breaking of consensus, and historical wargames had a substantial head start because they'd figured all that out a century earlier.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #history

1K notes · View notes

sunglassesmish · 18 hours

Text

okay so a very long post incoming.

the shock still hasn’t worn off. i asked misha about bi buck after days. weeks. of talking about it as a hypothetical and i got the BEST answer ever and caused extreme disarray in the destiel fandom.

people in my discord group can attest how often i was like ‘ooh i hope someone asks misha in a panel this weekend.’ ‘maybe we can all go in on a cameo and ask him that way instead?’ i was pretty annoying about it, i just. i NEEDED TO ASK.

so i got to the con thinking if only i could ask a question. then i went to misha’s solo panel but didn’t line up for some reason and then by the end, i regretted it because there was no last question and even misha commented on it. i thought damn now i only have tomorrow’s panel to do it. but i wrote down my question anyways and i thought i’m already here, i have to at least TRY.

i complained to my mother about how i really wanted to ask a question, but no way could i tell her i wanted to ask about buck and tommy kissing and destiel. she doesn’t even know destiel is a thing and she would not approve if she did. but i went to the panel by myself, luckily she didn’t have a ticket to the con anyways so she just waited in the hotel lobby after checking out (which was her choice. she listened to misha’s first panel on saturday from outside the room and didn’t want to sit through one again)

anyways so i go to the tomer/karen panel that was before his panel, and i’m on the right side right at the back, the complete opposite side where the people who ask questions are. then towards the end of that panel i move to the left side. i’m still at the back but i’m at the end of the row so i can easily move when i need to. then when the panel ends i go to ask a person who works at the con about asking a question. she says there are still people who didn’t get to ask their questions yesterday so they get priority, and the rest aren’t lining up yet. now i’m pretty confused because there was a distinct lack of questions at the end yesterday but whatever.

so i go to sit back down but there’s a line of people right where the question line was on saturday, so i join it thinking just in case she was wrong. well more people start to line up and she says ‘nobody is lining up to ask yet!!’ and i’m like okay so it’s fine, we really aren’t going yet.

then i sit back down and a few minutes later i see her directing like 4 or 5 people onto seats after she raises a paper saying ‘reserved for questions’ or something like that. so i think okay it’s my chance. i go up and she directs me into these seats that are closer to the front and is filled with like TEN people who are sitting in that ‘reserved for questions’ section. i think oh my god. there are so many people here. i text the discord saying ‘IM IN THE LINE.’

then the panel starts and i’m like okay well i’m towards the end and i’m close to the front now, i’ll take some pics. and as people ask their questions and sit in their original seats, we have to keep moving along the row of seats so we keep getting closer to the middle near the mic.

but then there’s half an hour and one of the people working for the con comes and says to the girl after me in the queue and the people behind her that they weren’t gonna get to ask. she tells the people at the front of the queue ‘i think just the first few of you will get to ask’ - at this point i’m like the 5th/6th in line (after the person at the mic and the person waiting behind them) so i’m not very optimistic at all. and then.

so i tell my discord ‘yeah i don’t think i’m gonna get to ask’ because i’m still pretty far from the end by the mic.

and then the panel goes on and there ends up being two people, one at the mic, one standing behind them. and one of the people working for the con tells me, THE NEXT PERSON IN LINE, ‘sorry, you won’t get to ask.’ and i am DEVASTATED. i tell the discord ‘yeah i’m definitely not gonna ask.’

i’m thinking I SERIOUSLY just wasted this whole panel shuffling seats and worrying for nothing (i had also just left my bag with all my stuff on a random seat!) so i sit there annoyed and sad for a minute until i see sean (the con organiser) by the stage and he tells her that i can go up last i guess. so she comes up to me and tells me i will be up next and to stand behind the people at the mic and i’m SHAKING.

i get in the line and i text on the discord that i’m the last question.

then i stand there listening to the questions before me just thinking oh my god misha is right there and i’m gonna be the last question and oh my god it’s gonna be such a good question. because i saw how much chaos misha caused with his questions on saturday and in this panel i don’t think anyone asked about destiel. so i thought!!! this is gonna be good!!!

and then i get to the mic and they’re all on stage and sean is next to it and says it’s the last question so it’s gotta be a good one. and then alex and rob and misha are all like oohhh it’s the last question but then MISHA. FUCKING. comes off the stage and comes up to me holding the mic and is two feet from me and looks me in the eyes and says ‘don’t fuck it up.’ but i’m like it’s on my phone! i got it written down! and well you’ve all seen the pictures of him looking right into my eyes but i’ll show you again.

so the first two four of these next photos we were making eye contact. i remember when he came up to me i was looking at all the lines on his face thinking man he’s so pretty and he’s right in front of me what the fuck.

but in these last two i wasn’t looking at him. he was just looking at me. which is just insane to see in retrospect.

after this i think he went back to the stage and i was like okay this last question is for misha and he cheered i guess. i think i blacked out tbh.

now when he got back to the stage i think this was when rob started singing the last question song because i remember thinking like damn i need to ask this question before i cry or something. misha was just standing there and looking at me - from the stage this time and i was. freaking out.

after that singing was done i said ‘this question is kinda about destiel, just to warn you in advance.’ and then apparently rob said ‘perfect last question’ and i started asking my question.

i started with saying ‘so there’s this show called 911’ and SO many people started cheering. i was immediately so much more comfortable because i could tell people would know where this was going. especially when after i carried on with: ‘it moved networks from fox to abc in it’s 7th season. and there’s a main character named buck who in the 4th episode kissed another man’ and then people started cheering AGAIN.

and anyways you all know the rest by now. i said ‘the actor who played him reported that they wanted to do something like it earlier in the show, but when they moved networks they were allowed to make it happen. if supernatural moved networks earlier on, or if it was made later on, do you think something like that could have happened with dean and cas?’

and we ALL know misha’s reply by now. ‘if the cw wasn’t so homophobic, dean and cas would have been balls deep for sure.’ i vividly remember being like OH MY GOD (in my head) and then i put my head in my hands a little and apparently. so did misha. which is to be expected i mean that was wild.

after that he said he was gonna actually give a semi earnest answer and said some things that are shown in these tweets. i remember bits and pieces because i was trying to hold eye contact with misha but i occasionally looked down and played with the mic a little but didn’t want to seem too uninterested. i loved his answer. the thread in this tweet has the general gist of it.

and if you wanna see the question i had written down and open on my phone, which i edited RIGHT before the panel as you can see from the timestamp (don't judge me for the second question it was just a backup) and a picture of misha looking at my phone. here it is.

#cr8 #misha collins #destiel #spn #long post #sorry for not writing his whole answer out myself i wish i recorded it somehow because i forgot all the little detaiks #i’ll remember someday i guess #and if you read this whole thing. i salute you

679 notes · View notes

iridescentparkers · 2 days

Text

vanilla palm trees → one - be cool, peter parker

summary ⇢ it’s been years, he should get over it, right? but, peter just can’t. he looks up, he sees her. he goes to bed, he dreams of her. he wakes up, he can smell her. he goes out one night and he sees…her. no, not gwen but his ticket to stop moping around on the anniversary of her death. what is meant to be one quick night of putting sadness on the back burner, is now a blossoming new love that feels all too perfect for peter. was this new woman in his life meant to be? or was this just another set of poorly dealt cards that would leave him walking away empty handed. all or nothing, right? ↝ college!au ↝ one night stand gone wrong trope | masterlist

parings ⇢ tasm!peter parker x female reader

warnings ⇢ very angsty, mentions of death

a/n ⇢ for the sake of this, let's all just pretend that my tasm timeline is accurate! guys please let me know what you think <333 love this and you guys sm!!! like truly! like your feedback and suggestions will be highly encouraged and taken into account! THIS IS 18+ !!!!!

As he sat in his dimly lit room, listening to the dancing melodies of classical music, Peter Parker would never care to admit that his life was completely and utterly depressing.

When his best friend Harry would see him sulking, better yet wreaking of his dull life, Peter would say something along the lines of, ‘It’s not completely sad’ before failing to pinpoint the little amount of good he still had going for him.

‘God, what a sad kid.” Harry would joke, but Peter never once found it funny.

He swore up and down his life didn’t even suck that bad. Like, actually. He could look at the cityscapes in his apartment adjacent to his 80k-a-year institution. That was always a plus! Especially to drown out his roommate and girl..friend each weekend, forcing Peter to shove a pillow over his head to drown them out.

Alright, maybe it does suck. But.. just a little bit.

His roommate and Carmen were at it like rabbits…again. This time, Peter threw on his earbuds to drown out the uncomfortable noises pouring through the walls.

It wasn’t even 10PM yet. Harry had broken their rule. “Guests” were allowed between 10PM-12AM Fridays, and sleepovers could not go past 10 AM.

Peter muttered under his breath as he attempted to get more work done. The pounding and thudding of his wall let him know maybe it was time to take a break.

He reached over to grab and rested his camera on the pane of his foggy window, wiping condensation off as he found the perfect muse. Most Friday late nights, Peter watches out his window as people enter and leave differently from how they entered.

Whether they were drunk off of their ass, stumbling into a cab with the help of friends or others nearby, or even completely sober. Sometimes leaving is more than just a party of one.

All of his life, Peter was an observer. Peter always lingered on the sidelines wherever he went. He didn’t mind capturing the essence of everyone else. It taught him more about others and made him more aware of people's character. Although his friend seems like a douche, Harry is caring. He just has an odd way of showing it.

As he captured the picture of people passing on the city street, he heard the two next door begin to die down a bit. Harry was Peter’s best friend since kindergarten. He was always the boy next door, a star athlete, and always on the front lines, Peter’s direct opposite. It almost didn’t make sense, their friendship, but it worked. They both loved their dynamic and were always there for each other.

He had been there since the beginning (even before the campus fame got to his ego) and was there for the worst of it all. Especially 4 years ago. And to Harry, right now, there was nothing worse than watching his best friend sit alone in his new apartment on a youthful Friday evening.

With three sharp knocks, Harry entered Peter’s room with a sly grin creeping on his face, “All I’m saying is no senior in college with at least half a brain is studying on a Friday night. Especially right before Thanksgiving break.”

“Jesus, Harry. You couldn’t wait 2 hours to bring Carmen over?” Peter remarked after turning in his desk chair to face Harry.

“Sorry, Parker, she has an early morning. She’s gone now,” he apologized, buttoning his shirt and shaking his arms to lower his dress shirt sleeves. “But you don’t. Let’s go out, you and me, what do you say?”

Letting out a deep huff, Peter lowered his camera and turned around in his chair, “Should you be going out considering you almost lost your academic scholarship from partying your ass off all of last year?”

“Considering what’s coming up, I’m going to ignore the ass-hole territory dig you just took at me,” Harry remarked. “And would you drop the whole grumpy act for once? Have fun with me tonight, please?”

“Your definition of fun is not my definition of fun.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs. “How so?”

Peter narrows his lids, “Getting high in the back of your car and hooking up with the closest girl within reach is not my definition of fun.”

“It can be,” he smirks, leaning further against Peter’s bedroom door frame. “Halloween was amazing.”

“No, Harry,” Peter insists before pushing his reading glasses further on his face and turning his chair again towards his desk.

“I know what this is, Parker,” he insists, inching closer to Peter and taking a seat on his bed before forcefully turning Peter towards him in his chair. Peter catches himself from the spin, readjusting himself in his seated position, “You need to get laid-”

“No.”

“Yes, y'know-”

“Harry!”

“...that is why that stick is wedged so far up your ass-”

“Absolutely not-”

“You need a beautiful woman to come over tonight and pull it out, ease you up a little bit.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He asked, walking over to place a hand on Peter’s back and turning his chair around to face the bar across the street. “Have you been over there since you moved in?”

Peter watched as he pointed to the photos dangling by a singular pushpin on his corkboard, “Maybe it's time you stop taking so many creepy photos and get in there, get your groove back!”

Harry moved his hips to an imaginary rhythm, feeling the beat of the bar washing over him in the moment, “That was the most ridiculous thing you could have ever done. Now I am for sure staying right here.”

“You're telling me you don’t get lonely here, by yourself?”

“Not one bit.”

“Your bed doesn’t ever get cold at night? Wouldn’t it be nice just to feel a set of lovely breasts nuzzled atop-” He soothed cupping his hands and placing them close to his face.

“Harry, Enough!”

“Sorry Parker, didn’t mean to hit a nerve.” Harry apologized walking towards his window and glancing down at the business below, horns and lights accessorizing the city streets. “What are you going to do for the rest of the weekend? Besides,”

“Study.”

“Study.” Harry snarked, as they commented in unison, Peter grinning as Harry rolled his eyes at his response,” Figures.”

Peter picked up his pencil and wrote more notes on his homework, “Come on Peter, don’t be a pain and just join me. One night? Please, that's all I ask.”

He cut his eyes at Harry, glaring at him at him, only for Harry to pretend to beg, squeezing his palms together as he mouthed dramatic pleas.

“Fine,” Peter gave in. “It has been a while.”

Harry did a small cheer before moving to his bedroom, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Did all of your other friends have plans?”

“Maybe. But that’s not important right now!” Harry shouted as he ran into his bedroom and shut the door.

‘It was too much’ was all Peter could think, walking along the sidewalk as streetlights blinded him alongside his friend. The two passed through gushes of smoke from the burning cigarettes and crowds of strangers on the city street.

Peter and Harry found their way to Alonzo’s, their neighborhood bar. The bar is dim and secluded by the brick and little surrounding the building. The name was familiar to Peter. The girl whose family owns the place was in Peter’s physics class…and Harry’s bed.

“Do you have to have sex with all of Manhattan?” Peter murmured, “Do you know if she feels comfortable with us being here?”

“It was so long ago she probably won't even recognize me,” Harry assured as the two approached the front door. “And, sleeping with ‘all of Manhattan’ does help to get free drinks now and then.”

Peter stopped, placing his hands in his pockets as he glanced narrowly toward Harry, “That’s why you slept with her?”

“Slow your roll, Parker. I didn’t know she owned the place until after the fact.” Harry assured as the two entered. “And…she doesn’t own it…her dad does.” He stated so ‘as matter a of fact.’

The place was college kid-infested, with students from all over the city. The loud chatter and music would beat in Peter’s chest as he moved around the room and settled on two stools at a table on the other side of the square bar, squeezing past loads of unhinged college chatter and young, tipsy adults.

With his shoes now sticky, Peter huffed as he sat, slowly regretting his choice to come out with his friend. Harry moved to the bar, shuffling past the kids surrounding it.

“Two beers, please,” Harry requested to the woman behind the bar as he settled in his seat, the bartender not moving an inch.

“Ma’am, can we please get two beers?”

“Would you give me a sec, we have a full house this evening-”

The woman turned and stopped mid-sentence as she looked down at Harry. The v-neck clung to her body and was paired with a black apron and casual flair jeans. Her hair was clawed back with a brown clip, overflowing with dark brown curls. Her protruding brown eyes met his, narrowing as anger instilled within her tall stance.

“You.”

“Me,” Harry smirked, adjusting the front of his hair into place as he leaned further in his standing position.

“Harry, right?

“Right,” he smiled, twisting his head to the side, raking his eyes up and down along her curvature.

“Two beers, on the house.”

“Thanks, umm-” he told her, his mouth gaping at the woman. She smiled at him, clicking the pen in her hand before simultaneously dropping it with her smile.

“You forgot my name.” She angered, curving angry lines along with her new frown along her face.

“No, it’s uh- Give me a moment-”

“Alexis.” she interrupted. I’ll add those to your tab.”

The two sat and drank beer, after beer, and threw back a couple of shots, the burning sensation still sitting even though Peter was not a tequila virgin. He now found himself alone, trying to pace himself and put some solids in his system.

“Do you ever wonder why he would risk his life? All those years, every waking minute of every day,” the bartender had asked Peter, who was now seated at the bar.

“Who, Spider-Man?” Peter slurred, biting a french fry. “All the damn time."

"Why do I do it? No clue. Why does anyone do it?” He murmured to himself, swirling the remnants of alcohol in his beer bottle.

The bartender quirked her right brown and continued counting the cash in the drawer. As she looked down, a woman approached the bar, a couple of seats to Peter’s right. The woman then turned her body, leaving an arm on the side of the bar.

Booooy was he drunk. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, her skin glistening under the bar lighting. It could have been the drunk goggles, but it didn’t matter. He needed to talk to her.

The woman pursed her lips, swallowing the remaining liquid from her glass. Peter watched them as she finished the drink. Her speech slurred like Peters, but her eyes were hooked on the bar screen, watching as Spider-Man swung himself from building to building.

She leaned more over the bar, settling in her hips as she stirred the straw in her glass. As she moved, the clunky jewelry on her wrists and around her neck moved with her. The woman was wearing jeans that hung low on her hips, decorated with flowers along the curve of her ass with pops of reds, purples, and blues. The red tank she wore clung to her skin as she adjusted her stance, matching the flower clip on her head.

It was time for him to leave, but maybe Harry was right. It's time to get over Gwen. It's been so long, how could he still be so...single?

Harry had wandered off with some of his football buddies about an hour ago, and now Peter was alone near this beautiful, mysterious woman.

Maybe it wasn't time to head home. Not yet.

Peter chewed the inside of his lip as he turned away from the repetitive clips playing on the local news channel. He leaned his arm on the side of the bar, mirroring the stance of the woman in front of him. She narrowed her eyelids,

“Hmm,” she hummed, stirring around the straw in her empty drink and looking at the bartender. “I don’t.”

The woman glanced over at the opposite end of the bar, “You have been staring for a long time. Are you just going to stand there, or buy me a drink?”

He took in the woman in front of him. Her subtly yet sweet scent, how her hair fell in front of her face, and even how, “You're engaged.”

“I’m not. Trust me,” she remarked, pulling the diamond off her ring finger. It would have alarmed sober Peter, but drunk Peter did not care.

He held eye contact with the woman, “I’m not even supposed to be here right now. I should be at home.”

“So why are you here, then?” The woman asked, inching closer to Peter as she placed a hand on his lower arm. Peter looked down and then back up at the woman, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.

“See my friend over there at the other end of the bar? He dragged me out to this bar, begging me to bring someone home tonight instead of moping around at home. And that’s why I came over to you. I don’t want to disappoint.”

“Disappoint? Excuse me?” She asked, turning her body as her brows dipped inwards on her face and anger curled upon her lips.

“No sorry- not like that,” Peter assured, throwing his hands up in worry. “Sorry, I- I am truly, sorry. That is not at all what I meant. It's been a while since I have done this."

"You saw what I was wearing on my finger, I'm not exactly true to this either." She laughed, and Peter then joined her. "You want to show me exactly what you meant?”

Peter grabbed the woman’s cheek, pulling her into him as the two melded into one. The hot and stickiness from the college bar air dissipated as he pulled her closer. The woman fell from the barstool and moved her hands behind his neck, taking more control of the kiss. Peter moved his other hand just above her waist before pulling her away.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he commented leaving his hand on her hip. “Probably the most beautiful woman here. What if, we got out of here?”

The woman smiled, placing a 20 down on the bar, “I’ll get my coat.”

22 notes · View notes

avianii · 9 months

Text

the number of reference photos I had to take for this one pose to work was insane lol

#top gun #tom iceman kazansky #current wip #so many ideas #so little time #also did you guys catch that one part where slider tries to set the ball #and ice is so ready to spike it #but then it goes in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION #and he's like f it and free balls it over #also the net touches are killing me lmao #just adds so much to the scene bc yeah ofc they're not gonna be pros #and it feels so much more genuine like that #absolutely iconic

71 notes · View notes

tomboyyyaoi · 1 year

Text

#i need to draw a post trimax vamery every so often so i dont explode #i was trying smth new here excuse that its a bit weird #ok so allow me to ramble in tags a bit #imdesperate to push my art in a different direction im getting really sick of how it looks and feels at the moment #im so so so thankful for everyones support but i feel if i cant make art i like then im going to struggle making it #so i want to make art i love looking at and making #so expect either a bit more inactivity on the art front maybe. or maybe the opposite if all goes well idk #coz im just not having fun making what im making rn #anyway lol vamery #trigun #vashmeryl #trigun maximum #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede #my silly art #id in alt text

482 notes · View notes

otakuwithapen · 6 months

Text

What happens when you take Evil Chat #1 (Chat Blanc) and mix him with Evil Chat #2 (Claw Noir)? You get Claw Blanc! He is very very not okay.

The story so far (Content Warning: Attempted Suicide)

During one of Claw Noir and Shadybugs’ arguments, Betterfly attempts to intervene. He sends a Kamiko in the hopes of calming at least one of them down enough to talk. Shadybug notices the Kamiko and shoved Claw Noir in the way. Claw, reacting too slow to Cataclysm the butterfly, is Kamikotized into Claw Blanc and given the power of Hindsight to see the error of his ways.

Unfortunately, as Betterfly attempts to talk to Claw Blanc, he manages only to send him into a crisis of identity. Shadybug and Betterfly can hardly get a word in before Claw Blanc flees. Claw spends the next few days in hiding, the Kamiko stopping him from transforming back and plaguing him with horrible clarity. He’s haunted by flashes of everything he’s done, everyone he’s hurt, with and without his Miraculous. Everything he’s done in the name of The Supreme—everything he’s done in the name of his own amusement. Every innocent civilian he’d scared back into like, every Kamikotized hero he’d beaten to a pump.

For nearly a week, Shadybug searches for Claw in an attempt to bring him to his senses. After all, as much as she loathed to admit it, he was useful.

For nearly a week, Betterfly spends his nights searching for Claw in order to speak with him—meanwhile Gabriel’s days are consumed seeking his absent son.

Both find what they’re looking for at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Claw Blanc looks terrible. He looks exhausted. His cheeks are streaked with the drying wake of fallen tears. Had his eyes not already been red, they’d have been bloodshot. His hair was messy—not in the intentional, chaotic fashion he usually kept it, but in a way achieved only by neglect and nights spend in and out of sparse, fitful sleep.

Betterfly steps forward, opening his mouth to speak, before Claw Blanc cuts him off.

He was right all along. All the innocents hurt, all the little glimmers of light stomped out, Betterfly had been right all along. Shadybug and Claw Noir weren’t helping anyone. They weren’t even helping themselves. All they were was The Supreme’s personal militia, stalking the streets like pests. Claw Blanc thought back to the look on Plagg’s face every time he detransformed; horrified yet acceptant. Even the Kwami knew this was all wrong.

Shadybug and Betterfly both tried to interject to little avail, they conflicting arguments white noise to Claw. He raised his hand skywards, focusing his power into his palm. An ever present pain roared through his nerves, the decay comforting in some morbid way. He couldn’t help but wonder if Shadybug felt that same pain. Karma for all they’d done—all they’d hurt. He muttered a half-hearted apology as the destructive energy condensed into a tangible sphere. He wouldn’t hurt anyone anymore. He closed his eyes.

Cataclysm.

Pain seared in his chest, causing him to fall to his knees as his nerves screamed in agonizing harmony. For a moment, Claw wondered if this is how every hero he’d used his power on felt. Every out-of-line civilian. For a moment Claw knew nothing but white-hot pain. He heard Shadybug and Betterfly crying out for him.

As soon as it came, it was gone. The burning stopped. Claw Blanc was still for a long moment before opening his eyes again. He stared down, where his hand sat pressed against his chest. Had something gone wrong? Slowly he looked up, eyes widening at the scene before him. He stood in a charred crater, starting down two statues. One held her arms over her face as if to defend herself from some attacker, the other reached forward, offering an undeserved hand to his most bitter enemy. The ambiance of Paris was gone. No people chattered. No birds sang. No pestilent bugs nagged him for his apathy. There was nothing.

In his attempt to stop himself from hurting anyone, Claw Blanc realized, he had destroyed everyone.

300 notes · View notes