#digging for information

[winters-dream]

Villain slipped through the window of Hero’s apartment with ease, almost too easy. They were expecting some sort of security system to be in place to prevent such a simple break-in. But again, they expected a hero as respected as this one to have a better living environment. 

They closed the window they snuck through and turned around. They had snuck into the hero’s bedroom. Perfect. Hero had stacks of papers everywhere, on their dresser, the desk, bedside tables. Villain had hit the jackpot of information. 

They started with the dresser, rooting through the documents. They all looked like personal notes. Every piece of paper had a different villain’s name on it: their strengths, weaknesses, crimes they’ve committed. They stopped on the page with their name on it. They scanned over its contents, the information reading pretty accurate, more detailed than the rest. Villain figured it had to do with their much too frequent encounters. 

Villain shuffled through a few more papers before moving on to Hero’s desk. These papers held blueprints of Supervillain’s lair. Every little hideout, even ones that Villain didn’t know of, were all pointed out on these pages. And above Hero’s desk was a map with little red dots to map out the location of these spots. Villain had to admit, Hero was good at gathering intelligence. A little too good.

“I thought I heard something up here.”

Villain turned to find Hero standing at their now opened door. They didn’t look pleased to find Villain snooping around their room as they leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms. They let out a huff as they glanced at the contents in Villain’s hands. 

“What are you doing here?” they asked. 

Villain gestured at the piles of papers that surrounded them. “I’m looking for information,” they said. “You should keep all of this better contained. It could end up in the wrong hands.”

“Seems it’s already too late for that,” the hero shot. 

Villain made a show of holding a piece of paper to the light, like they were looking for a hidden message then put it down. “Well if it helps, none of this is useful to me. It’s nothing I didn’t already know.”

 They picked up another document, the paper being snatched out of their grip instantly. Hero was stacking all of their papers together before carelessly tossing it into a desk drawer. 

“If you didn’t get what you want then leave,” they said, their patience with Villain already thin to begin with. They pushed Villain away, but they didn’t budge. Villain caught their hands and held them close to their chest. 

“I might not have found what I was looking for, but I found something better instead.”

Hero rolled their eyes. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“You, silly,” Villain looked at them with a smirk. “You have a lot of secrets in that brain of yours, I'll just ask you what I want to know.”

“Fat chance,” said Hero. “I’m not going to give you information that easily.”

“We’ll see about that,” said the villain. They manhandled the hero to their bed. They ended up with Hero lying on their stomach and Villain straddling their legs with their knees pinning Hero’s hands in place. Hero tried to struggle out of their grip but with their hands trapped it was no use.

“I can easily get the information I want,” said Villain. Heron didn’t need to see their face to know they had a satisfied smirk on their face.

“If your going to torture me,” said Hero. “I'd rather you do it on the floor, it’s easier to clean up that way.”

Villain shook their head with a small laugh. “I’m not going to torture you, I have something better in mind.”

Before Hero could ask what they meant, Villain’s hands were already on them. They tensed, waiting for pain of some form to hit them, but the opposite happened. The villain was giving Hero a massage. 

“What—?” Hero wanted to question what they were doing, why was Villain giving them a massage. But as Villain’s skilled fingers worked away at the knotted tension in their back and shoulders, all words of protest died on the hero’s tongue. A sigh pushed past their lips and a smirk found its way onto Villain's lips.

Any moron could inflict pain to get what they wanted. Could use it to gain all the power they desired. Pain was a very useful tool in its own respect. But it was nothing compared to this. Heroes and villains alike were trained to withstand pain, but not this. Not pleasure, no one trains to fight what feels good. 

Pleasure was a much more powerful tool. To make your enemy melt into a puddle at the touch of a hand . . . it made Villain feel unstoppable.

They moved their hands to stroke over the back of Hero’s neck, gently working away the tension that seemed to consume the hero. They carded their fingers through Hero’s hair, hearing another soft sigh emit from the crime stopper. If Villain didn’t know better, they’d say Hero was falling asleep. Maybe they were. Nonetheless, definitely disoriented enough to spill secrets.

“Feel good, little hero?” they asked. They earned a nod in response, a slow movement of Hero’s head as they let themself relax under Villain’s touch.

“I can give you more, if you like,” Villain offered. “You just have to tell me some things.”

Another nod from the hero.

“Good,” said Villain. “I want you to tell me Superhero’s greatest weakness.”

Hero shook their head. “I can’t tell you that, nobody knows the answer to that.”

“Come on, Hero. You’re smart, I know what that brain of yours is capable of,” Villain leaned over them so their lips brushed over the hero’s ear. “They may not have said anything directly, but you’ve noticed some things. You always notice the little things.”

Hero didn’t know if it was the compliments to their intelligence, the Villain’s gentle hands on their back, or a mixture of both. But they wanted to spill everything, tell Villain whatever it was they wanted to hear.

“Hm?” urged Villain, their soft breath hitting Hero’s ear further clouding the hero’s thoughts.

“Magic,” they sighed out. “Superhero’s power is magic, it makes them practically invincible.”

“So what’s their weakness?” asked Villain, their breath had a small hitch in it, excited to finally be getting what they came here for.

Hero sighed. They knew somewhere in the back of their mind, this was a bad idea. Handing such important information to the enemy could jeopardize everything. But their filter seemed to have dissolved with every press of the villain’s fingers against their back.

“Their power is their own weakness,” they said. “If you trap their hands, they can’t use their magic. And it drains their energy faster than it can be replenished.”

“The more frequently they use their magic, the faster it drains their energy? Rendering them useless?” Villain earned a minute nod from Hero. “Their power’s an oxymoron.”

Villain smiled wide at this newfound information. “This is wonderful. Thank you, H—”

They looked down at the hero’s face to find them sleeping peacefully under them. Villain had done too good of a job relaxing their mind. They gently patted their head and carded their fingers through Hero’s hair once more.

“You did well, Hero. I’ll forever be grateful for this valuable piece of information.”

They moved off the sleeping hero and disappeared out the window they came in. it wasn’t until the next morning when Hero awoke, that they realized what they’d just told the villain. And how much that information really cost the hero.

[gioiaalbanoart]

Silent Saturday Sunday Tag

Thank you @the-golden-comet

CAN'T BELIEVE I'M DOING this ON TIME!!!! (yes, in Europe is still SUNDAY!)

SO : from wip TSA / The scarred angel

******

They have known each other long enough and probably he really doesn't know shit.

Ashley breathes out another sigh, crosses arms and plops unceremoniously on the same worn out armchair where Amy sit few days before, almost throws her feet on Herrera's desk but changes mind at the last split second and crosses legs instead.

She wears a pair of dusty half calf tactical boots and a sleeveless very short denim dress and she'll never questionably play a provocative behavior around Herrera that way.

The chief intertwines his fingers on the desk, waiting for Ashley to say something more but she keeps her silence instead, reasoning about how her visit could come to a sense after all.

******

Never Pressure TAG to : @lychhiker-writes @tragedycoded @alinacapellabooks @sableglass @illarian-rambling

@badscientist @ragin-cajun-fangirl @mapplesand @moltenwrites

@noxxytocin + open tag and 🍻☕🍷☕ 🍹🍻

✨ Silent Saturday Sunday Tag 🧞‍♂️✨

Thank you for tagging me here @lamuradex and here @willtheweaver ! 💖✨

Rules: Write something without any dialogue, inner dialogue aka thoughts is allowed but that's it, thoughts and actions, to keep the scene/snippet/whatever you wish 'silent'

I believe I have a strictly prose snippet in YWIMC I would like to share 💖✨

There were no ill intentions that Noah could tell, but again….by his own admission….he had trouble reading what others really wanted.

And what did he want? What would cause his fractured soul to glue back together again? If even his friends failed him, if even society failed him all those times that everyone took advantage of his weaknesses….Could anyone….anything help him at this point?

As always, this tag is +open and I am gently poking my tag list if they want to join as well! Have a great week, everybody! 💫✨

✨👇Tag list below for writing snippets. DM me if you’d like to be added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

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[theaxolotlkween]

Silly little comic I made.

[mayasaura]

I don't really know where this lands on the scale of basic to hot take, but I don't see the locked tomb as a very overtly political series. Like yeah, it has a lot of subtext you can interpret politically, obviously, if that's your jam. but to me, the series has always been an intimate exploration of existing as a badly uncomfortable and isolated person. there are a lot of different reasons people in the series are fucked up, but the important thing to me is that they are. and that they're being witnessed. To me it's a love letter to all the deeply fucked up people out there (esp the deeply fucked up lesbians) saying "you exist, and someone sees you"

Edit: Since apparently people are linking to this post to interpret and argue with it indirectly, let me clarify. I don't mean the story is apolitical. I mean that as I see the story unfolding, the central narrative is focused on the characters, and the heart of the narrative is human connection and character exploration. Of course there are political themes being explored—I've posted a lot about them myself—but that exploration is about asking a lot of questions I don't expect the series to necessarily answer.

Tamsyn Muir doesn't have the answer to colonialism. She does have the answer as to what will happen to two mentally unwell painfully lonely girls I suspect we've all grown quite attached to.

[sparebutton]

Frozen references found in the Frozen Kingdom in Fantasy Springs Tokyo (part 1)

(I found these all from various posts on Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube. If you ask for a specific picture source I will try to find it again for you)

1. Olaf’s letter from At Home with Olaf

2. Toy Olaf Anna made from Olaf’s Frozen Adventure

3. The snow toys Elsa made in the beginning of Frozen 2

4. The suit and dress from Some Things Never Change in Frozen 2

5. The Chess Board Olaf knocks over in Frozen 1

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[bairdthereader]

Look at Charlie's friends covertly gathering intel for him.

Tao, Isaac, and Elle are so invested in Charlie's life that they help him figure out the situation with Nick even when they're deeply skeptical of the outcome.

Tao, King of Getting Involved, decides to "do some digging" over the school break, asking Otis about Nick's relationship status on Charlie's behalf. He tells Charlie it's because he doesn't want to see Charlie get hurt--his intentions are good--but Charlie's confusion only deepens as a result.

An Emergency Charlie Situation Meeting is then called, and Isaac the romantic jumps in (thank you, Isaac Henderson, for believing in love against all odds), asking their inside source, Elle, to do some digging of her own. She thinks it's ridiculous ("he's the straightest person I've ever seen"), but one pleading, soulful look from Charlie and she folds like a house of cards.

It must be said that Elle is masterful at this role. She's an extremely observant person (another post!) and learns more about/from people in short interactions than almost anyone else on the show. She gets the necessary information and reports back to Charlie, even knowing that Tara's lack of interest in Nick doesn't really confirm anything about Nick's potential interest in Charlie. Charlie asked, so she helped.

And can I say how much I love the utter disbelief in Elle's tone when Imogen claims she and Nick are together. Elle figures out the truth about that situation pretty much immediately. Plus, her loyalty to Charlie shows in every word of this uncomfortable interaction.

Charlie checks in with his friends--even ones as completely new as Tara and Darcy--to make sure no rumors are floating around about him and Nick, using every possible source of information to protect Nick. This group knows that they need to watch out for each other, and sharing those kinds of details is one way to do that.

Tao is so torn up about the overheard conversation between Nick and Imogen that he feels compelled to share the information with Charlie, even though he knows it will hurt (I mean, look at his face when he delivers the news). Luckily Nick's explanation smooths things over with Charlie, and he takes the steps needed to make things right. Sometimes Tao's involvement feels destructive, but he's trying so hard to protect Charlie and his own friendship with Charlie that he's constantly on the alert and compulsively honest. Charlie's always going to know everything Tao knows, good or bad.

They love this boy SO MUCH. Oh to have such a loyal, loving, sneaky squad on your side.

[flamingpudding]

Part 12 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >>AO3

<<1 Previous Next

A Mother's Care

Damian knew his family. He had been with all of his siblings long enough to have taken note of all their small habits or antics. But it wasn't only his siblings. He had also learned about his father and Pennyworth. Thus he knew that his father, after learning about Danyal's existence, would attempt to find a way to contact his mother and find out as much as he could about Danyal's live before them.

Damian also knew his mother. Father had contacted her, that alone would have been enough reason for his mother to appear herself sooner or later. Especially since it had been about Danyal. His twin had become a non-existing topic in the league after his death. His mother had never mentioned his twin ever again, it was like Danyal had never existed in the first place. Back then it had irked him but blinded by the way he had been raised then he had followed that unspoken rule. Never talked about and never thought about him during training or missions, never mentioned him to anyone. But in the privacy of his own chambers he would remember and whisper stories to small and hidden animals he had saved about his twin.

That was why he wasn't surprised, unlike Richard who he was supposed to patrol with, when his mother stepped out of the shadows of a building. Now they were free to talk about Danyal again after so many years.

Still he tensed, there were so many things he wanted to tell her after Danyal appeared. So many questions to which he had no answers to. Yet he didn't make a single sound as he became aware of her presence, stopping and merely looking over his shoulder as she stepped into clear view.

Richard was a different matter. He instantly took a protective stance. Placing himself between Damian and her, an arm outstretched as if to prevent Damian from getting closer in case he felt 'stabby' as his brothers liked to put it or perhaps more so to keep her from approaching him. Richiard did tend to become protective at times. Something that Damian hadn't known how to appreciate at first but still understood in a way.

"Habibi."

"Mother."

"Talia."

They were all curt with each other it seemed and Damian simply nodded in her direction. He knew why she was here, for a split second he wondered how far his father was from their location and if Richard had already contacted them. Their coms were on and active, he could hear Drake having an argument with Brown over something trivial. He had muted his own and it did seem like they were unaware of his mothers presence. He side eyed his brother, wondering if he had used a private channel, so as not to alarm everyone of his mothers presence. Even if Nightwing hadn't, Damian was sure that Oracle had already noticed and most likely had notified his father.

"Your father has contacted me."

"We had questions."

Nightwing's head moved minisculely as he looked between Damian and his mother, silently asking if Damian was fine with this. He gave a small nod, inclining his head slightly to indicate that he wanted to take the lead. It was strange, something was off. His mother smiled but it wasn't that knowing smile she would have if she had done something that would make them want to contact her. Rather he caught the small signs of her slight confusion. A change in her voice, the small lift of her eyebrow and the hints of a frown.

She was worried.

"Habibi, what questions do you still have?"

"Why did you never tell me he was still alive?"

In a way Damian was glad that Richard was leaving the talking to him and only kept his protective stance. It was also unusual for his mother to seek him out when he was with someone. He could see a weariness to the way her stance changed slightly and turned to look into the distance.

"Danyal was weak and a weakness to you. He would have never survived. If anyone had known he was still alive he would have just died a second time."

Damian clenched his fists under his cape. That was not enough reason for him, yet he understood the reasoning. He had been raised by the league for the bigger part of his childhood, he knew their views best and had only later learned how wrong some of them were. If he hadn't been sent to his father and grown with his brothers, would he have accepted that reasoning better?

"Why didn't you say anything after I left?"

His eyes widened slightly under his mask as he saw the smile his mother was giving him as she turned to face him again. Fondness clearly showed in her eyes, a smile he hadn't seen since his twin and him had been small children. It was a smile that had disappeared with time when their grandfather had instructed them to start with the twins training. "Danyal was weak but smart."

Silence followed her statement and he mused over her words, glaring at the ground as he did so. Of course his twin was smart, the only fault Danyal ever openly displayed was his inability to kill.

"My baby bird." He looked up at his mother as she broke the silence. "Danyal changed after his revival but even then, I had faith. Besides I knew from the moment I lowered him into the Pits that you would one day find him again. Nothing truly stays a secret forever."

"So why didn't you bring him to Bruce then?" His head snapped to Nightwing, for a moment he had forgotten about his elder brother's presence and it appeared that his brother's question would not get answered. Damian watched as she shook her head and stepped back. They would not receive an answer to this question.

"What about Danyal's scars, the ones he hadn't possessed before?" The question slipped out before he could stop it. It was irrational to ask his mother of this yet he hoped to get an answer. In accordance with what his father had told them before. It hadn't been league experimentation that gave his twin new scares. Yet his father had mentioned that his mother had also kept an eye on Danyal from time to time.

Surely she must at least know something about them. Her facial expression hardened and Damians eyes winded minisculely when he saw the meaning behind it. His mother's gaze grew distant as she took another step back from them, slowly merging into the shadows behind her.

"Danyal has gained his own share of enemies in the years away, despite living a mostly normal life. Your brother has even gained a special kind of enemies in the past two years. Do keep an eye out for those suited in white, Habibi. But teal and orange are the ones responsible."

Eyes widening Damian stepped forward, a hand slightly raised to reach out. But Richard's arm prevented him from getting any further as his mother disappeared into the shadows. Distantly he registered how Richard was talking over the coms, relaying what his mother came to personally inform them about. His brother's stance had gone rigid at his mothers last words. His brother must have known what his mother was implying.

It took him a moment but once he composed himself again he attempted to reflect on their conversation.

As he regrouped with the rest of his family, belatedly Damian realized that his mother had not once asked how his twin was fairing or in what state he was in. Instead she had given him a warning. A warning he was going to take seriously. Those suited in white, teal and orange. There must be some information his father had yet to share with the rest of them that Damian would need to dig into. As he eyed his elder brother Damian wondered if he should dig into the information himself or see how much he could get out of Richard before he attempted to question his father. There was something about Danyal's life that his mother, father and eldest brother knew but refrained from directly sharing with him.

His mother did indeed care about him and his brother, her way of showing it was just not the most ideal, at least not in his siblings eyes.

[lanatusnebula]

AU where ciel works at neo arcadia indefinitely

and copy x is obscenely possessive of her

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Polyamorous Christians & their supporters

This is soooo last minute but! Starting this evening, QueerTheology is holding a "Poly Possibilities" virtual workshop — 90 minutes at 7:30pm EST on Tuesday Sept 10, 17, 24.

"Each week, Brian will bring some discussion questions to get us started exploring the intersections of polyamory and faith AND working through the real world implications of how polyamory and our faith communities impact one another"

I decided on going just now haha, they're leaving registration open till the last minute it seems! It's $72 to register (and with that cost you also get access to other resources they have).

If that cost is prohibitive for you but you really want to go, hit me up — I can help you cover $30 of it, or I'm happy to tell you about what gets discussed and share any resources they promote.

Here's the link with more info + to register!

[flamet-draws]

Mechtober Day 11: Unused Folklore

The Green Knight from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight :)

[kooldewd123]

why are we always stuck with centro every time something like this happens. i mean i know the answer is that they're the only ones idiotic enough to publicly compile everything on twitter of all places. but ugggh is it too much to ask to have someone who actually fact checks their shit instead of just relying on their name recognition to regurgitate whatever they find for cheap and easy clout

[candycorncrave]

So. Let's talk about Penacony and birds.

-Spoilers for the 2.1 quest (and possibly some of 2.2 if my theories and findings are correct)

Hey all! I'm not too good at starting these essay type things, so we're just gonna dive right in. Disclaimer, these are all just theories complied from random (not very in depth) research I did, and my own thoughts, so take it all with a grain of salt. I just wanted to put this out here for funsies!

With that out of the way, let's dive in!

From very early on into the Penacony quests, there was something that just kept nagging at me. Robin's name, (mixed with the fact that shes a singer.) The family's crest being a Nightingale. Aventurine's design very clearly representing a peacock. Ratio's owls.

There were just too many bird references for this all to be a coincidence, so I decided to do some research on bird symbolism and meaning.

And here are some very interesting things I found!

Now a lot of this is quite clear cut, so I won't go into alot of explanation, but I do find the "rebirth" part quite interesting, especially since it is hinted during the 2.1 quest that she came back from "death".

Let's start with Robin, since she's one of the more obvious ones: "Above all, the robin red-breast is a symbol of spring song and good fortune. Additionally, it also symbolises passion, a new beginning, and re-birth. Therefore, if the bird flies into your life you will be blessed with happiness and joy. Subsequently, most of the symbolism of robins is centred on their spiritual meaning which is believed to be a symbol of divine sacrifice." In native American culture, Robins also have strong ties with family and "heart centered connections."

Next up are Owls: Now this one is also pretty obvious. Dr Ratio's design has very heavy Greek inspiration, and owls in Greek mythology are very clearly tied with Athena, knowledge, and wisdom.

The thing I found interesting about this was all over Sunday's mansion, there are owls decorating a lot of the furniture. Could this have been foreshadowing for his "betrayal" and assisting Sunday? I'm not sure. In my opinion, that seems like quite a length to go to mislead players- especially since it's such a niche detail that most people probably won't think twice about. Maybe it will have more meaning in 2.2. Guess we'll wait and see!

3rd, Another obvious one, Black Swan: They symbolize the opposite of what the white swan does, naturally, so death, danger, destruction, suffering, chaos, mystery, etc.

Even more than that though, "The black swan theory of events is a metaphor that describes an event that comes as a surprise, has a major effect, and is often inappropriately rationalized after the fact with the benefit of hindsight."

Another one I don't feel the need to dig that deep into. It all pretty much checks out with what we've seen of her character and the events of the story so far. Black Swan is a scary lady....

4th, Let's talk about Peacocks: Now we all know peacocks are commonly associated with general wealth, pride, and flamboyance. I thought that was all there really was to it being such a big contributor to Aventurine's design. But I decided to dig a little deeper and. Oh boy.

Peacocks can also symbolize both death, and life. Now at face value this is quite contrasting, but when you apply it to Adventurine's character- it makes quite a lot of sense. A single coin flip between life and death that keeps landing face up, and yet, it's a gamble he never hesitates to make. Moreso, peacocks can symbolize the freedom and liberation of the soul. (OUCH)

And Let's finish off the doozy. Nightingales: The symbol of the family and the bird constantly following Sunday around and watching everything the entire quest without a sound.

"Nightingales are symbolic of beauty, melody, creativity, purity, and the expression of oneself freely. They are also symbolic of darkness, mysticism, spiritual awakening, and renewal."

Now I found that the latter is often meant when you see a nightingale in your dreams. It is also mentioned if they do not speak back to you in a dream you will soon be betrayed.

,,,, How intriguing.

Also intriguing, Bloodhounds are very well known to be hunting dogs, and birds are prey for dogs.

And speaking of prey,,, are fish not considered birds' prey? And Sparkle, who we see fish around every time she shows up, was the "victim" in Black Swan's quest.

Anyways. I could be grasping at straws with that last part, but I do feel there is alot of stuff going on here with animal symbolism, especially more to dig into with Gallagher and Sparkle. It's all very intriguing

If you read all this here's a cookie! 🍪 Thanks for your time :) I hope you enjoyed the ramblings of a madman. Please feel free to add anything or comment your thoughts! I'd love to discuss

[oldguardleatherdog]

i was gonna just shoot an ask to say I hope that you're doing well but holy shit EDM flute is awesome

Hey callmealx, thanks for the shout, I'm doing fine!

Glad you dig my EDM flute gig - as a matter of fact, I'm back in the studio for the first time in years, working on new music for a wild collaborative performance art project that's been in development for over a year now with a queer performance collective in Berlin. The score has plenty of ambient/techno/trance elements, and my current EDM playlist is a deep well of inspiration.

For many years, I've played at clubs and warehouse parties, taking my unamplified flute and improvising along with whatever the DJ is putting through the speakers as I move through the space, aiming the notes where I sense the physics of the music will carry them, bouncing them off the walls and looking for the groove, the moments where I hook into the flow and without thinking about it anticipate the breaks and key changes and note patterns that are coming two, three, four measures ahead - and the thrill when I nail it just right and see the faces near me light up like Christmas trees and just that quick I'm gone to a fresh part of the space, sometimes with applause ringing at my back...

At a Tom of Finland warehouse party during NYC Pride in 2004, one of the go-go boys was in the green room dressing for his shift on the boxes, I had just finished my last set, my flute key pads sticky with the sweat of 2,000 shirtless guys that hung in the air, clouds of perspiration coating my head, my tongue cut and bleeding - the kid asks me what's that, I say it's my flute, well what do you do with it, I tell him I just play along with what the DJ plays -

and he starts laughing, a huge Cheshire Cat grin on his face, you mean you just put that thing together and play along? Yeah, I say. Jesus Christ! he laughs, incredulous. Holy shit, that's amazing, I've never heard of this, that's crazy shit man, and the kid is so taken with the thought he can't stop jumping around... he'd never heard of such a thing, and God I'll never forget that.

Since I was 15 years old, I've been blowing air through a metal stick with holes in it and waving my fingers up and down on it, and sometimes people are moved to tears or delighted or happy, and sometimes they just go apeshit.

This was recorded in 2001-2002. Ambient techno trance from Equa, John Neff, engineer; Rich Berman, bass; Animal J. Smith, flute.

[fisheito]

hey. hey you. yeah, yoU!! the one who actually looks at clothing!!! i request help. i need images of wedding dresses that you think would fit the starter trio [yaku, ed, oli]. pls send images........ of any ideas you have🙏

[emeraldgreaves]

45 or 55 for moira red 👀👀? both seem sort of,,,thematically consistent with them LMAO

have 500 words of moirared to break the word curse.

55. tracing the lines on the other’s hand

They’re in the library cramming, as one always finds themselves doing during finals week; him for Planar Theory, her for Anatomy and Mending. And she knows she’s going to fail it, keeps dreaming that she opens the test booklet and discovers the whole thing is in Magid, or it’s the wrong unit, or the paper turns into a swarm of bats and flies right into her face.

And Red is a little bit of a flirt—this is well-established, mostly with people who find her an adequate shoulder to cry on after the fact, though she hasn’t joined their ranks quite yet—but even with how casual and unassuming he is about it, he’s never done so with her.

He asks what she’s studying, and she tells him it’s the parts of the hand, though at this point it’s reduced to flipping through her endless stacks of index cards and wishing for a proper diagram. And he says well, you could just show me, and holds out one of his hands.

She takes it, and it’s still unmarked, tan skin not yet scarred and callused from a decade’s worth of discovery, though someday it will be. She points to each segment in turn—distal, medial, and proximal phalanges, and anatomy doesn’t sound too far from an incantation as she lists them out, flipping over to his palm. And yet they’re not wholly blank. Here is the silvery-white slash of a scar across the spiderwebbed creases of his palm. Here is the mottled ghost of a burn from the time he snatched up a spell scroll and discovered the protection the hard way. Here is the stray freckled nestled in the curve of his wrist. Here are the formerly scraped knuckles and shadowed arteries running alongside taut tendon lines, the entire history of his exploration all in one place.

“If you want my opinion,” he says afterward, fingers still resting in hers, “I think you’re going to ace it.”

And she hadn’t expected him to pay attention—medical terminology is hard enough for Healers to memorize, let alone those studying an entirely different discipline that only happen to be in the same space —but seven years later they’re out for lunch again in the café. He’s through one and a half sandwiches, and she’s barely managed two sips of tea, but the conversation has always been the point of it, and she doesn't mind letting things settle. Somehow they’re on the topic of exams, the way they were half-killing themselves over knowledge but somehow in love with it all the same.

“I remember plenty,” he insists, the third variation on this particular theme.

“I’m not claiming you were completely oblivious,” she says. “Simply that you had plenty of your own projects to consider.”

And she always knows when something has caught his interest; a little light flares up in his eyes, and he leans forward, suddenly regarding you like you’re the most engaging thing in the world. “Really,” he says lightly. “Try me.”

He holds out a hand. After a moment she extends hers across the table. He takes it, turns it over carefully like she’s one of his precious artifacts, then bows his head and recites distal, medial, proximal--

“All right,” she says afterward, “maybe you do remember.” And he’d smiled at her over the rim of his teacup in a way that was familiar, and yet strangely not at all.