#fraud magician

[3416]

rewatching that media day thing where there's a guy doing magic in front of auston and cam atkinson and........ they're everywhere

[splendorofnobility]

As a big fan of GF and the Relativity Falls AU, I ended up thinking over how to alter some of the plotlines to have it fit the stans better than just "the character they're taking the place of". This is only for episodes where I feel one character already has more of a focus, with the exception of the first episode. This is what I have currently, but I'd be glad to continue this if people find it interesting, and I'd love to hear people's thoughts.

Tourist Trapped is pretty similar, though I see Ford, who's still on the excitement kick of both finding the journal and seeing what he's convinced as an actual zombie, as the one to get himself into trouble by trying to do some snooping and accidentally stumbling into the gnome's territory. (Just so we're clear, Ford absolutely picks up the grappling hook since Stan is scared of heights. Why does Mabel have those in her store? I dunno. Why did Stan)

As someone who is a fan of the "Bill and Gideon swap" concept for this AU, while he's still a fraud of a pre-teen who's using things he finds in the journal (instead of an amulet of telekinesis, his power source gives him pseudo pyrokinesis), Bill is more of a stage magician than a psychic in his performances. Ford doesn't completely buy it, but he does end up spending the day with him as a peer who enjoys more quiet and anomaly related hobbies than his brother. Aside from that, though, it gets pretty similar to how it already is.

Episode 6 is an interesting one to me, because I could see an interesting take on it for either twin (Ford trying to be a more "conventional" man to stop being reliant on Stan to fight for him and coming to the realization that "manliness" doesn't mean an inability to ask for help, or Stan trying to adopt and instead hating and rejecting a rather toxic masculinity type of life). Really, pick whichever.

As the last for now, Stan wins Gompers the goat from the carnival, but a science fair competition at the same event ends up with Ford taking second to Fiddleford due to unforeseen circumstances. His pride refuses to take second, so he ends up rewinding time to attempt to win, but after realizing that if he wins his brother loses the first friend that isn't him he's had, he swallows his pride and rewinds again to concede in the competition so his brother can have Gompers.

I'm not saying these are all perfect, but they've been running through my mind and I thought I'd throw them out there for anyone who's as into this AU as I am.

[philtstone]

title: check yes, juliet

Summary:

It doesn't matter that Juliet is a freshly-minted, top-of-her-class field agent (alright, so she hasn't actually been in the field yet) or one of the few women working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's cutting edge check fraud department (just last week, their 20-year-old coffee maker broke and they ran out of number two pencils to mark up their overhead projector notes with): every time her mother calls, all she does is lament that her beautiful, intelligent daughter isn't meeting any eligible bachelors.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Maryanne sighs eventually. “All O’Hara women fall for liars, Julie. It’s our curse.”

Juliet has to wonder if she didn't scoff at her mother's claim a little bit too soon.

my brother & i had the earth shattering realization a month ago that the plot of "catch me if you can" (2002) is almost to a tee just a mildly alternate psych timeline and that thought has lived in my head rent free to such an insane degree that eventually 14 thousand words poured out of me in au fic form. im posting it so as many other people as possible can see the vision. and also because im sure theres one person other than me who revels in early seasons shawnjuliet's frankly insane levels of chemistry, lol. enjoy!

READ FULL FIC ON AO3

Excerpt:

“Your average bounced check would be routed to the bank it originates from, so you’d only really have a few days in one place before you were discovered. This guy’s been filing off the routing numbers, changing ‘em somehow – so cleanly and neatly that it’ll take a real sharp eye to notice. It’s all about the branch you’re cashing it in. A check cashed in at Chase Manhattan with the one changed to ten’s gonna bounce halfway around the country before anyone figures out it’s rotten, and by that point this asshole is long gone. The numbers go East, Central, West – you see how they cover 0-60, 70-80, and of course they require a special kind of ink to be recognized as real checks, which you’d all know if you’d read the report I circulated …”

Juliet doesn’t notice the full cup of orange juice in front of her until it’s too late. 

Her head’s still full of Carlton’s two hour long briefing this morning, during which she learned more about check fraud than she’d have ever thought a single person could in one lifespan. Certainly not Juliet, who’d originally studied literature at Florida State. Then again, back then she’d have never expected to end up an FBI agent, either.

Then there’s the wired, tense feeling in her gut that probably won’t go away ‘til this sting is over and they bring in the pathetic local guy Carlton’s been tracking for the last week. His MO is pretty girls in pastel dresses, which made Juliet the right man – woman – for the job. At least maybe doing this’ll help the guys in the office take her seriously as a field agent. And, well … she does love a nice peachy pink cardigan. The color goes well with her complexion.

“This idiot’s no real con man, he’s just a clown who can’t be bothered to work an honest job. Child’s play compared to the real thing. ” Carlton tends to pause here, angry that he’s got to acknowledge it like that – the real thin g. “ You know what they’ve been calling him in the papers these days?”  

Him . Always him. They don’t have a name on the subject yet, despite over a million cashed in fraudulent checks. Juliet hums and nods so her partner feels acknowledged. 

“ The skywayman . Pathetic. Like he’s some magician or something, instead of a two-bit liar who thinks he’s smarter than me. ”

“This isn’t personal, Carlton ,” Juliet says tiredly. “ It’s not like he knows who you are to be deliberately toying with you.”  

“Oh yes he is. I know he is. I know him .”

Her hands aren’t quite shaking, because that would be stupid; this guy, their local guy, shouldn’t have a gun on him, and if he does he’s not the type to shoot a woman. Juliet focuses on the paper in front of her and tucks a lock of her hair behind one ear. A window of ten minutes – that’s what Carlton said. Unlike Carlton’s unsub nemesis, they know plenty about this one. He’ll come in, dressed like the middle-aged schlub he is, loose tie probably, gray slacks, thinning hair. He’ll notice her, buy her a soda she’ll accept with a faulty check and then pick her pocket for the cash. The string of pearls at her neck makes her a sweet college girl whose parents have money. She mentally forces herself to stop chewing her lip and instead moves her right hand down to her lap, where she can pick at her nail polish without anyone seeing. 

“Well, obviously we wanna catch him,” Agent Dobson says, when they’re a third of the way through the morning briefing and half the room is asleep or dreaming of lunch. Juliet, of course, has been furiously taking notes. He means the Skywayman; he means the real thing. “But you gotta admit, Lassiter, there is a bit of a magic show to a good con, isn’t there? The press has that one thing right.”

“It’s not magic. It’s lies and deceit and a healthy helping of audacity, and a damn good typewriter. O’Hara, write that down. We’re gonna go through that list of makes and models again, see what we can come up with.”

Deep breath. Her purse, orange to match the cardigan, is in her lap. The gun’s in the purse. She’ll draw it, but not to shoot. This is the kind of work she’s begged the Chief for, and she’ll be just fine.

Maybe Juliet would feel less desperate to prove herself if this diner wasn’t in Miami, and her father didn’t gift her the only string of pearls she owns.

A voice clears itself quietly above her.

“Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah, hi. That’s my seat.”

READ MORE

[wawataka]

as much as i love the new resurgence of ageswap partakers i have to put in my two cents: mob would not start the Spirits & Such agency

for starters, he would be good at it. i mean, he has psychic powers. he’d be a legit psychic. part of the comedic value (and i guess plot value in general) is the psychic kid working for and believing a fraud who can’t even see spirits. you could argue he’d do bad at the consultations part and that’s where my second point comes in

never in a million years would Mob ever start a career based on his psychic powers. he kind of rejected the idea of being a magician when ritsu suggested it. mostly because he lacked the charisma most magicians had. also i swear he’s said that he doesn’t want to depend on his powers for any domestic task, so why would he start a psychic business.

one last nit-pick from me, if reigen was never around for mob when he needed him the most, i don’t think mob would be… out in society? like the advice Reigen gave to him when he was ten was absolutely crucial and i doubt anyone else would’ve said that to him. I personally believe mob would more or less be in serizawa’s shoes. He hurts Ritsu, someone who he cares very deeply about, and without Reigens guidance, locks himself in his room. Whatever happens next, up for you to decide (cough cough i haven’t figured it out)

SO who runs the psychic business then? Who starts Spirits n Such? Well, who else doesn’t have psychic powers? who else wants to be involved in the supernatural? who else wants to do something with their life? Tome.

Tome Kurata starts Spirits n Such

[theoutcastrogue]

In 1584, Reginald Scot published The Discoverie of Witchcraft, a book that sought to debunk the whole idea of magic – though not the supernatural in general [it ain't a witch or a fairy, but it could be a miracle from god!]. He said that people who claim to be witches are either frauds, fully aware that they don't possess any supernatural ability, or mentally ill, suffering from "melancholie" due to an imbalance of the humours. This was mostly about people concocting herbal remedies and potions and such, or casting curses and "an evil eye", claiming or thought to invoke fairies and assorted supernatural elements in the process. But there was another kind of magic.

"After dismissing the belief in witchcraft and related supernatural ideas, he then described how certain people employed tricks to deceive people. Though the discussion was intended to reveal what he considered to be frauds and cheats, it was really one of the first textbooks on the art of magic, and the tricks he described are still performed by modern magicians on stages all over world. He didn't call it magic. It called it juggling, using that older and broader sense of the word juggle as a magical or incredible feat [N.B. as opposed to the modern sense of tossing objects in the air]. For example, he described the sleight of hand used in card magic like the use of false shuffles and the way a card player manipulates the deck to control the location of certain cards in the deck. He described how people made coins and little balls disappear in their hands through misdirection, and he described an early version of "cups and balls" where the conjuror makes balls appear and disappear under various cups through misdirection and sleight of hand. He also described how to make a coin appear to pass through a table or disappear into a handkerchief. He described how conjurors used boxes with false bottoms to create an illusion in which one type of grain in the box appeared to change into a completely different type of grain. And he even described how to use a fake blade to give the appearance of passing a knife through a persons arm or tongue. Throughout the discussion, Scot emphasized that these were merely tricks, and not actual magic or witchcraft." – Kevin W. Stroud, The History of English Podcast Episode 168: "Witches, demons, and fairies"

In the book, the chapter on "the art of juggling" presents several categories of magic tricks:

cups and balls (a precursor to the shell game)

coin tricks

card tricks

fast and loose

various illusions and cons

various sleight of hand tricks

body horror: fake sword swallowing (there's a very real version, which is not examined here), passing a knife through your hand or a ring through your cheek, presenting someone's head on a plate, etc (see pics!)

The Internet Archive has the 1584 edition here, and a much more easily readable 1886 edition here (chapter starts at page 321).

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

Master List

Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

[inceptionwatchparty]

Inceptiversary 2024 Watch Parties: Weekend 3 (Friday, July 19 - Sunday, July 21)

-

1. RocknRolla - Friday, July 19, 8PM EDT  | Saturday, July 20, 12AM GMT | +1 10AM AEST

A real estate fraud worth millions grabs the attention of the city's gangsters. When Wild Bunch tries to steal the cash, a local drug addict too attempts to get his share of the stolen money.

2. (500) Days of Summer - Saturday July 20, 8PM EDT  | Sunday, July 21, 12AM UTC | +1 10AM AEST

An offbeat romantic comedy about a woman who doesn’t believe true love exists, and the young man who falls for her.

3. The Prestige - Sunday, July 21, 8PM EDT  | Monday, July 22, 12AM UTC | +1 10AM AEST

Two friends and fellow magicians become bitter enemies after a sudden tragedy. As they devote themselves to this rivalry, they make sacrifices that bring them fame but, with terrible consequences.

Watch parties occur in the #watch-party channel on the Inception Discord server and are open to all! (Message us if you need an invite.) To participate in a watch party, you can watch the screenshare stream on Discord, or sync up with us using your own copy of the movie.

Quick links

Inception Watch Party FAQ Inception Watch Party 2024 Spreadsheet

[lethologick]

Okay okay so consider: Danny is a Laughing Magician himself. Disclaimer: I haven’t read every comic run to exist so I could very much be wrong about something. But straight from the wiki:

“The Laughing Magicians are magic-users from a particular bloodline, characterised by both their unique ability to utilise Synchronicity Wave Travelling and their tendency for rebuking and outsmarting Gods, Demons, Spirits and just about everything else. Laughing Magicians have existed for most of mankind's history, people who rebuked the Gods whom others worshipped. Some even managed to destroy or use Gods for their own purposes.”

Synchronicity is basically influence over luck, things fall into place at the right time- and how many times has Danny managed to get by by the skin of his teeth? Happened to improvise his way to victory? Pulling a last ditch attempt out of ones ass and it somehow being successful every time is peak Constantine. As for rebuking gods and outsmarting gods- Danny may not have literally cheated Death, but he may as well have. He died and survived it, he exists between life and death and can reap the benefits of both. That’s some Constantine soul tax fraud shit. He also: fought Pariah Dark, defeated several other very powerful ghosts, and made an ally out Clockwork (or at least, managed to gain his help several times). And maybe it explains all those powers that show up once never to be used again: those aren’t just an innate ghost power of his, they’re spells. Maybe part of the reason Danny ends up so much more powerful than other ghosts is because he already has a natural proclivity to magic that gives his powers a boost.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Servant Matrix: GIUSEPPE BALSAMO

Class: Ruler True Name: Giuseppe Balsamo

Gender: Male

Alignment: Neutral-Balanced

Height/Weight: 188cm / 85kg

Source: Historical Fact, 'The Queen's Necklace' by Alexandre Dumas

Region: Europe

ENDURANCE GAUGE: [ X / X / X / / ]

MANA CHARGES: [ X / X / X / X ]

COMMAND SPELLS: [ X / / ]

A man who proudly asserts himself as the Ruler-class Servant summoned by the Interlopers. His True Name is 'Giuseppe Balsamo', though he is most commonly known as 'Count Cagliostro'. His reputation and history is shrouded in mystery. A fraud and a hero. A healer and a magician. A prince and a pauper. The definition of someone with a 'multiple-choice' past. As a Ruler, he's summoned with as his traits a healer, having spent his youth in a monastery and his adult years as a traveler throughout Europe, healing the sick.

One of the last of the Interloper's Servants of the Origin War, he was ordered by the Interlopers of the past to wait for their return and gather information in the meantime. However, once his masters had been sealed away, the hate-filled curse that plagued his heart had vanished, and he had simply found himself aimless until seeing the newly-revived Interlopers and their Servants arrive in the Transient Megalopolis.

Now with renewed vigor and purpose, he joins the Masters in their quest to save the Solar Cell.

SKILLS:

Espionage (A Rank): Giuseppe Balsamo was known as a great swindler, able to deceive Parisian high society with ease. He has the ability to hide in plain sight and even make enemies believe that he's their ally. However, such a skill takes time and preparation to use to the fullest.

Product Construction (Fake) (EX Rank): An ability to 'forge' items- a variation of the 'Item Construction' skill. Given the proper time and research, Giuseppe can create copies of items identical in effectiveness to the real thing. The rarer the item, the more time it will take. With his apothecarial knowledge, he's best suited to replicating healing items.

Human Anatomy Research (B+ Rank): A skill that expresses an understanding of the physical body and medical techniques.

I am Asherah (EX Rank): A skill rooted in deception. Giuseppe's knowledge allows him to pull off grand illusions.

Althotas Continuum (C Rank): As a student of the great Alchemist Althotas, he's learned a variety of secrets pertaining to the study of Magecraft. He has inherited the secret of his teacher, a skill that seems to be equal to immortality on the surface, though it has it's limits.

Eastern Martial Arts (A+ Rank): Rather than having simply an understanding of magic and medicine, he also has knowledge of Eastern, bare-fisted martial arts, giving him a degree of physical proficiency.

-

Strength: D

Endurance: C

Agility: D

Mana: B+

Luck: A

NP: B

NOBLE PHANTASM: Rébellion au Monde

A whirlpool of magical energy that engulfs the area like a Reality Marble. The laws of the world are twisted to a disgusting degree, and order itself begins to unravel. A great spirit of revolution sweeps across, and the 'structure' that serves to chain others is shattered with aplomb. The longer Giuseppe has time to prepare and sow the seeds of discord, the more powerful this Noble Phantasm becomes.

[desultory-novice]

First off, Anon, thank you! Second, I loved your ideas (which is why I'm going to paste them at the end of this ask) but I also ended up spinning this off in a completey different direction! ^^

I started with summarizing Marx and the Haltmanns because I had the strongest concept for them. Buckle in folks, this is LONG...!!

It's time for a Villain Swap!! (With pictures!)

-

Kirby Super Star: "Glittering Galaxy Gambit"

["Milky Way Wishes" ; Marx the Cosmic Jester > Max Haltmann]

Antagonist: "Max the Magician"

-A traveling stage magician who showed up in Popstar a few months back and has become a popular figure thanks to his friendly, jovial dad-figure vibes and dazzling magic tricks that defy reality! (At least, "reality" as the backwards Dream Landers know it! - In actuality, everything is done with holograms and advanced technology. Max doesn't have a drop of magic in him. Plenty of dad vibes though.)

-One day, Max's biggest, most highly anticipated magic show is interrupted: the sun and the moon have started a fight and can't decide whether it's night or day!! The Dream Landers beg him to fix this and he attempts but even HIS "great magic" can't do anything.

-He's knocked back by the attempt. When Kirby runs to check on him, he tells Kirby the legend of Star Dream, a wish granting comet that was long ago broken into pieces. If one can collect the pieces and put it back together again, it will grant a wish. Surely THAT will be powerful enough to restore Dream Land and Popstar to normal!

-When Kirby succeeds in assembling Star Dream, Max, who had been following him, shoves Kirby out of the way! Oh, how he's been waiting for this moment! Having given up a successful business and disguised himself as a traveling entertainer, going from planet to planet, putting on shows for "backwater bumpkins" looking for someone he could use to help him get what he needs!

-Even "the sun and the moon" was a highly advanced hologram to usher Kirby toward his quest. And now that that's done, Max can make his wish: for Star Dream to bring his daughter back to life...!

[Basically Max + Beta Magolor]

-But...Star Dream starts to malfunction immediately Max's wish! A logic error has caused a fatal exception and the wish cannot be executed!! Instead, Star Dream begins opening a planet-sized rift in an attempt to rip several different dimensions through each other!

-"...What have I done? Why did I try to activate such a horrible machine..." Max mourns his mistake, but it's too late. After all, he's just a tech startup CEO masquerading as a showman. He has no REAL power, magic or otherwise to stop this... but Kirby does. Max summons his behind-the-scenes "stage assistant," the Robobot, and instructs it to help Kirby shut down this berserk machine!

-After Star Dream explodes, Max apologies to Kirby for fooling him and everyone... He's a fraud AND a failure. And always was...

-Kirby lets him know that he's not THAT much of a fraud. Everyone on Popstar enjoyed his shows after all, even if they were never real magic. And...if his wish to bring his daughter Susanna back to life didn't work, maybe that means... she isn't truly dead...? Perhaps she's still out there somewhere in this vast galaxy, looking for him too...?

-Max wipes his tears and resolves to follow Kirby's advice and keep looking for her. To continue on as "Max the Magician" putting on his tech-infused magic shows across the galaxy in hopes that someday, he will find Susanna - or vice versa! He also vows to come to Kirbys' aid at any time in thanks for stopping him before it was too late.

:Cue Kirby's Triumphant Return:

--

"Kirby and the Cosmic Circus"

["Kirby: Planet Robobot" ; Max Haltmann > Marx the Cosmic Jester]

Antagonist: "The Ringmaster"

-One lazy day, a giant circus situated atop what will eventually be revealed to be a golden watch appears in the skies above Popstar and now everyone is acting really, REALLY weird?!

-That's because this is no ordinary space-fairing circus, it's the dreaded "Cosmic Circus" and it's run by a mysterious figure known only as The Ringmaster, supposedly a once upon a time clown who's said to have been traveling the stars for countless years.

-Any place his circus visits is soon after forcefully turned into an extension of The Ringmaster's show by powerful Ancient magic. The people are forced to dance and sing and smile and serve popcorn and juggle and tumble and clown around and otherwise perform nonstop in demeaning shows to an audience of their fellow clowns.

-"Patty" a pink-haired songstress in a ridiculous looking clown nose and tutu, who confirms she is just one of The Ringmaster's many victims across the galaxy, caught and forced to perform in his show many years ago, appears before Kirby to tell him the origins of the Cosmic Circus and The Ringmaster piece by piece through song as Kirby gets closer and closer to The Ringmaster's main tent... 

-It all started with a spell gone bad... The former clown attempted, on his own, to open a Dimensional Rift to locate/rescue his missing friend and co-conspirator, who'd disappeared in the Mirror Dimension. It was foolish to attempt so without an Ancient Artifact, and when the spell backfired, the clown found himself sent several centuries and several dimensions away. Having lost all hope of seeing his fellow magic-user again, all he wanted now was just to go back home, to where life was simple and fun. A very small wish...

-As luck would have it, the clown DID run across an Ancient Artifact, a wish-granting Clockwork Star! But this star was old and weary looking, and the clown had grown paranoid after his previous failure. He refused to make his single wish for fear it would go wrong and he would be left with nothing again. He poured his soul into magic to form a link between himself and the Star, giving up an eye in the process. The clown had succeeded in BECOMING the star, giving him access to as many wishes as he could possibly need!

-But his fears were right all along. The dusty old Nova was not so good at interpreting the clown's wishes to return to his home dimension, and it's said his many, many attempts to get it right was what originally lead to the creation of the cursed Cosmic Circus: every planet his circus passes by now "becomes" what the Nova believes the clown's former home to be. Or perhaps, it was having so much power and using so many wishes that twisted the clown into becoming The Ringmaster of his own volition? "Who can say...?"

-Kirby reaches the center tent in order to put a stop to The Ringmaster and free the people of Popstar from the Nova's curse.

[Su... "Patty" inherited all of Marx's missing cuteness]

-After an initial Wizard of Oz-esque fight with a giant, threatening Ringmaster that is no more than an illusion, Marx the Clown is revealed to be a surprisingly tiny figure. But boy is he ANGRY! He hooks himself up to Galactic Nova's wiring which acts like set of mechanical arms to try and kill you. How dare you stop his show?! How does someone like you have so much power?!

-But Kirby succeeds in besting Marx again and this time... something familiar sparks in Marx's mind. He... he knows someone strong and pink like you... He knows this place... Is he...? Did he... make it home to Popstar? After centuries, his wish was finally granted...

-He turns to Galactic Nova and tells the machine the show is over. He can rest. They can all rest. The show is done and he "...doesn't need .your broken wishes anymore. Put a stop to it a-..."

-">BUT...THE SHOW MUST GO ON" Galactic Nova sends a powerful shock to Marx through the wiring, knocking him unconscious and absorbs Marx into the machine before Kirby's surprised eyes. The Ringmaster can't be allowed to leave or the circus really will be over.

-Galactic Nova, now that it has fused with Marx and "taken control" refuses to release the performers and threatens to expand the circus's reach to the entire galaxy! Looks like it's time for a fight!!

-But the berserk artifact is too big to take on, being nearly Popstar-sized itself!! From within the machine, a barely conscious Marx weakly informs Kirby the best and most efficient way to stop the star: destroy its wish-granting nucleus, that being Marx himself. 

-"...I got my wish. I made it home, even if it was too late to matter... It's time to make yours. You don't want this for Popstar, right...? Neither do I. This planet is MINE. I won't let this machine ruin it!"

-With Marx's death, the broken Galactic Nova powers down for good and the string of broken wishes they left begin the process of fading away into a distant and mostly awkward memory. Popstar and its residents are returned to normal as the Cosmic Circus's performers are released from their roles at last from all across the galaxy.

-While there is no saving Marx, whose life was forfeit when he first linked his soul to that of the broken star so many years ago, now that the circus has closed down, "Patty the Songstress", aka, Susanna Patrya Haltmann is free at last to reunite with her father, Max the Magician! But...why does she still have a clown nose...??

...And what of that wizard friend of Marx's who wandered into the Mirror Dimension? Will Kirby and friends be in time to save him...?

Given this is the permadeath swap... things aren't looking good for Mags...

-

[Anon's Full Ask - I loved these concepts too btw!]

[sharoo]

Finally made my Umineko OC

Shax

One of the 72 demons, currently serving under the witch hunter Futaba Yoshida. He posesses the power to mire the senses and minds of mortal beings through powerful illusions, alongside an above average resistance to the anti-magic toxin of deduction, especially for a demon of a lower rank. These allow him to provide his summoner with excellent protection. However, Shax is rarely called upon, due to his widely recognised unreliable nature. As a master illusionist, he also understands, better than most, how illusions are constructed, and is just as able to reveal the puppetry at work as he is to operate it. Having long become disillusioned with weak witches who summon him to compensate for their own lack of power or ingenuity, he's taken to testing them - should his master not meet his standards of matching his intellect, be it by falling for his amiable, loyal front or by failing to maintain an illusion through their own efforts, he will his power against them to expose their fraud for the smoke and mirrors it is. Alone or under the employ of witch hunters, he's led many witches to their doom. Having now been summoned and skilfully bound by contract with Futaba, tasked with helping her uncover the mysteries of Rokkenjima, he waits to see the worth of his newest master. Finally, perhaps, he shall be entertained for a little while.

Finally finished my Umineko OC! I've been waffling about with his design, since I couldn't decide how much I wanted to portray his abilities visually (some other concepts for him involved a twinky stage magician and some variation of a guy in a gas mask/camo suit), before I settled on jovial uncle who is definitely trustworthy(tm). His colour scheme is meant to imitate a stork, since in the Ars Goecia Shax is said to possess such a form.

His powers rely on the fact that nothing is scarier or more fantastical than the human imagination. He bolsters these illusions of the mind through summoning lesser monstrosities to make noises in the dark or pose as distant silhouettes, having beforehand mired the target's senses with drowsiness or alcohol.

His greatest weakness are sealed rooms and light, for it reveals all his creations to be mere shadows.

Thanks for the streams, Nezumi, can't wait for the next one.

[emmebearpaw]

I wrote another Atsuko Fic. This time without Chiyo as practice. Not beta read and all the names I just made up and reserve the right to change. And also the other people don’t matter.

word count: 1750 words

Objectively they had to acknowledge that out of every place and every reason they could have got 

Objectively, being arrested in one’s home town on suspicion of being a fae impersonation of themself is funny enough that Atsuko wasn’t even mad. Annoyed? Most likely. Really, this matter could have been done and settled several hours ago and yet they were still stuck in the holding cell. Which, on an unrelated note seemed wholly inadequate to keep a fae… but that was neither here nor there.

Because that fact was locked in what essentially amounted to a broom closet with a metal door.

Like Atsuko was.

For the last several hours.

The least they could have done was leave them with their notes. Instead of notes to sift through though the guards had instead grilled them on their connection to… fae insurance scammers. Apparently. Reportedly that only started in the last few months. Truly, they weren’t looking for a grasp on anyone’s soul anymore than they were looking for the most convoluted way to commit insurance fraud. 

No seriously what the fuck.

Mental note. Ask about that later. The guards weren’t exactly in the best mood about another potential fae. Especially one that seemed so unwilling to conform to either being fae or not. Because they weren’t. Truly, how many fae were using their likeness and how did they even get i—

Atsuko’s ears slammed back against their head as the creaky door swung open and a young guard stepped in, spear pointed at them.

“That’s the one. This one right here” she looked over her shoulder, spear drifting away from them as they turned toward a second.

Another, dressed in court attire and bearing the investigative branch sigil stepped into the room, seemingly attempting to not touch any of her surroundings, “Really, I didn’t need you to escort me. It’s not as though a backwater town has more than a few cells anyways.”

“Of course ma’am. We’re just trying to get you in and out of here as quickly as possible, you surely have better things—“ 

After looking back and forth at both of the entrants, Atsuko interjected, “I am literally standing right here.” 

The court magician turned to the feline,“What?” 

Atsuko repeated, “I am standing right here. You don’t have to speak about me while I am in the room. Most people would consider it rather rude, though people over in Mirfield consider it a way to signal someone’s status in certain—“

“That was not an invitation to repeat yourself, fae.”

“Ah.”

Pulling out a standard issue tome, the court magician began, “I, court magician Brio Fernroot, am here to investigate your source and stem it. You will cooperate or I will not hesitate to not send you back from whence you came.”

Atsuko sits there for a moment as a tension settles into the room, waiting for the investigation to begin. After quite a long moment, Atsuko answers, “Oh. You are asking me to answer the question. I’m from the other side of town. By the woods.”

The court magician sort of just stares at them for a while, as if they answered the question incorrectly before not asking a different question. In fact she asked, “By, by the woods you say?” 

“Yes. Third house down from the candlemaker.”

The tiny room grew quiet once more as the court magician and guard exchanged glances before the guard crept ever closer.

“Ah. Wrong answer?” They said. People prefer when they said wrong over the one they weren’t asking for. They had at least enough common sense to know that.

“… Yes.” The guard threw out quietly, before the court magician quickly and loudly stated.

“Ok. I will be specific for you.” More like she would ask the question she actually meant which was, “Where was your point of entry into this realm.”

Spirits surround, they weren’t a fae earlier, they clearly hadn’t left. “None. I’m not a fae. The only place you could consider my point of entry would be my house, which, once again is the third house—“

She pinched the bridge of her nose, moving her spectacles up slightly before mumbling, “For spirits sake.” She took a deep breath “I have tried to keep this simple, so that we may both be on our way but if you insist upon making this difficult—“

Atsuko rolled their eyes before interrupting, “Ma’am. I am the one attempting to calmly explain that I am not a fae, my family lives in this town and my mother could easily corroborate what I am stating.”

“And what is it that you are stating.” She sighed once again. Which isn’t a good sign in getting out of this situation calmly.

To recenter the conversation, Atsuko stated, “I’m not a fae.”

Proving she had actually gleaned the mission directive, the magician retorted, “That is highly doubtful considering you detected as one. Ms. Atsuko.” 

Atsuko sucked air in through their teeth as the creeping unsettlement from the previous statement coursed into their limbs. Objectively it would be best to ignore that. And ignore how everyone in the room seemed to watch them writhe for just a moment. They settled on saying, “My earring is fae in origin.” Before mentally calling on Chiyo to not pop out once again, because that would be a shit show. Between pain and a contract mention it wasn’t unheard of for Chiyo to spring into the realm.

“And why would you be wearing an earring that is fae in origin?”  She queried.

“I think it looks nice.” They stated. That was the truth, the simple miniaturized contract Chiyo asked them to wear as a guarantee had been easy to modify into a rather nice look brass earring, dangling around  and down from their right ear.

Taking a step forward, the magician reached out and demanded, “Give it over.”

Atsuko silently reached up, unhooking the cuff from their ear, giving it one light roll in between their fingers, feeling the new brass casing they had splurged on not but two months ago before passing it over to the court magician, “Give it a ring. Should detect magic too.”

“And what sort of magic.” And that was where the lying would come in. Luckily, this was one many had asked before. It often wasn’t just officials who had questions about the strange earring. 

“It’s a paper charm from Astrakhan, it’s supposed to protect you from getting caught in a storm.” They answered. It was, of course, more akin to a magical tracker but not even Atsuko had managed to figure out what spell Chiyo had charmed it with.

“What? You immune to iron and weak to water?” The guard (who Atsuko had admittedly forgot was there), butted in, seemingly excited at the prospect.

The fur on the back of their neck jumped up as they shuttered at the thought, “Please don’t splash me with water next.”

“And why not?” The court magician asked quickly, earring floating back into their hand.

Spirits surround of course they had to question any chance they gave them, “I… don’t like getting wet?” Really, it wasn’t that deep, just act earnest and with good luck they can dodge a bath for another day, “I am a cat, it’s not that uncommon amongst us.”

The two murmur as they come to some sort of agreement amongst themself. The magician investigating the earring one final time before tossing it back to Atsuko’s feet.

“Rude.” They muttered before the magician reported,

“While the paper charm does indeed seem to be fae in nature, it would not be enough for most wizards of this place to detect.”

Atsuko looked to the guard. Who glared at the court wizard for just a moment before locking eyes with them once more… university wizards and their bullshit. 

“Would you consider yourself an expert in family conditions?” Atsuko asked with a smirk.

“Excuse me?” Asked incredulously.

“I mean, you don’t even need to be an expert, would you consider yourself familiar with family diseases? Like how many people in Casoria find themself with thin blood?”

“Get to the point.” She tapped her foot, a common sign people were getting tired of their shit. Luckily Atsuko didn’t care.

“So you don’t. As many people in town are aware, we do have a family in town that suffers from Liosis.”

She gestured, spinning her hand in a circle in front of herself and pointedly looked at Atsuko, as if she were trying to get a message across.

Ignoring whatever she was attempting to get at (because frankly they deserved to ignore her in return), they continued, “It causes people to act as fae portals, much like a dryad’s tree or changeling ring.”

She snapped, “And is most often fatal at a young age. What are you getting at.” 

Atsuko turned to the guard, whose spear had long drifted away from pointing at them and now rested at their side, “Do you know of anyone in this town who has Liosis”

“Huh? Oh, I suppose the Miyahara’s do. Terrible thing it is from what I’ve heard, the matron has been babbling for years after a fae stole a few words and fae keep showing up claiming to be the child.” 

“Thank you”, Atsuko nodded at the guard as she squinted at them, before turning back to the court magician, “I’m them. If you are as good at detection as you claim you’ll find I only read as fae from the back of my head. My mother can confirm all of this. She lives three houses—“ and then they felt the wave of a detection spell pass through them. The court magician foot tapping as they ran the spell quickly.

After not but 10 seconds the court magician turned to the guard and began a screaming match. Atsuko’s ears once again flattened against their head. Spirits surround, the guards really got the most exhausting court magician they could find. 

… after a minute or two of barking orders, the rather rude lady walked off, leaving just the guard and Atsuko to stand there, with nothing but a door frame between them. They hesitantly took a few steps forward towards the open door as the guard closed it in their face. “We’re calling your mother to pick you up.”

“Thanks.” They muttered.

The silence stood for a moment more before Atsuko added, “I did ask that before she got here.”

“Can it.” They spat before wandering off as well.

Maybe they were mad actually.

[paigelts05]

Tristan Rocha [FNAF AR, Renegade AU]

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/Tristan-Rocha-FNAF-AR-Renegade-AU-1044234141

Published: Apr 21 2024

CK animatronic maintenance and R&D Robotics contract with Faz Ent has ended, but their stories are far from over.

Tristan is one of the two people who run R&D robotics. The other being Charles D, aka CD.

Tristan Rocha is the twin sibling of Daniel Rocha, so his story also started with Fazbear Entertainment, as their dad, Oliver Rocha, was one of the two technicians at Circus Baby's animatronic rental service back in the late 80's who had been ambushed by the animatronics, got strung up on the stages in order to trick the sensors, but survived thanks to the other technician, Morgan Smith, cutting himself and Oliver loose. Dan and his brother Tristan had only ever heard stories about Oliver's experience, and they knew that he wasn't exaggerating about what happened to Eggs.

Tristan wasn't surprised when Dan got into an accident in his first job at a factory, and after begrudgingly accepting the contract with Faz Ent, Tristan knew it was only a matter of time before he too would become the victim of a grizzly accident.

Knowing about the underbelly of Faz Ent since birth, he knew what to say and do to stay as under the radar as possible and reduce the risk of getting killed by an angry Exec, and when Ness started sending him newspaper clippings of an incident regarding the brother of an old Freddy's manager and information on the limits of the human body, he knew exactly what to expect. He also figured out how Faz Ent planned to kill Nora and helped her prevent it by removing the facial recognition from the toy animatronics that Faz Ent had intended on using against her.

He just didn't expect to get blindsided by magician mangle so soon after: he'd received blueprints and heard a whisper of Faz Ent's plans to kill his brother, but he'd had no time read the blueprint or tell anyone because as soon as he looked up, that's when the animatronic attacked him; it broke his bones and tried to cut him in half. The information he got from Ness regarding the limits of the human body saved his life, so whilst the animatronic left him on the brink of death and in a coma, he was able to survive.

He doesn't know how long he was in a coma for, only that something unusual was keeping him there. Whatever it was let him go though when his brother was wheeled into the hospital post "Adelaide Incident".

Seeing his brother heavily injured and missing a rib, Tristan knew that he'd woken up too late for what he knew about the plans Faz Ent had for his brother to be useful. But in learning about the Adelaide incident, Nora seemed to link Adelaide to the blueprint Tristan had received prior to getting attacked by Magician Mangle and she was able to warn Izzy and CD that Charles was likely in danger, and this heads-up actually saved CD's life, as Adelaide had immediately gone from trying to kill CK animatronic maintenance to trying to kill CD. So, so much for Nora claiming to know jack squat about all the shit Faz Ent tries to pull. Then again, a Ballora variant with the name Adelaide on the blueprint was a very obvious link. And just to top such a chaotic day off, how a doctor responded to him going into a panic attack because he thought he saw the Mangle out of the corners of his eyes outed one of the hospital's doctors as a fraud and former employee of an asylum that companies similar to and including Faz Ent used as witness disposal: so that was an eventful hospital stay.

Once Tristan had physically recovered, he returned to work. Acclimating to not putting pressure through various parts of his body, and adjusting to CD having to use written communication and starting to learn sign language because Adelaide's Arctic Ballora attack on CD had severed his vocal chords, so even if doctors could give him his voice back, he'd likely never sound the same again. Then, R&D robotics got a new hire, a new girl called Sadie who was adjusting to a loss of her own: someone close to her had been murdered. Tristan was the most surprised though when so soon after starting work and Nora getting her set up with the tools to survive the Special Delivery project, Sadie came in to work with news that her close companion was back from the dead and in a robotic form.

After Faz Ent finally got off of R&D Robotics back, Tristan finally had the time to process just how much he'd had to adjust: he still had to limit the weight of what he could carry, he couldn't bend as far so door frames were slightly more annoying (he's tall), but he had also grown closer to his fiancé Nora, and to those around him as well. He'd even made some new friends along the way too.

[river-in-the-woods]

greetings! i'm new to buddhism and i would be curious to know if you have any tips for westerners regarding the practice. i see a lot of people online aggravated by western attitudes at times and as new convert, i would like to avoid contributing to that. thank you!

Hi there :)

I suppose one of the greater issues is that there is a mindset of... shall we say, pioneering and innovation that can be unhelpful when approaching Asian traditions.

Western practitioners like to experiment, change the rules, "fuck around and find out" as they so often say. This works out well enough for them – in fact I think Western practitioners often thrive on their enthusiasm to explore, when it is balanced by discernment – but it is not an attitude that will get them far if they decide to train properly in an Asian tradition.

What we have in Asia that is lacking in Western traditions, are culture, history and esoteric lineages spanning thousands of years, and techniques that have been refined through trial and error with each passing generation. European traditions don't have this kind of unbroken lineage, which creates some distinct differences in mindset.

A Western practitioner might consider themself 'advanced' after 5-10 years of practice. But to become a Buddhist monk, guru/lama or Daoist method master, in that time you might only have just completed basic training (depending on tradition; I'm making broad generalisations here).

There is such a thing as spiritual authority, and Westerners sometimes don't like to hear this. After all, for many, becoming a witch/sorcerer/magician/spiritualist is all about taking fate into your own hands, claiming the universe's power, the church be damned, etc. Asian witchcraft and malefica does exist, however it is not treated as the path of self-liberation and sovereignty as it is in the West, so please do not mistake it as such.

(Diasporic Asians like to claim titles such as 'witch', and this is fine, but just bear in mind this has a decidedly negative connotation when you visit countries in East Asia).

The line between laypeople and ordained monks and priests is very clearly defined, and one is expected to show deference. This does not mean any sort of self-deprecation, rather, to understand one's own limits and keep an open and curious mind. Just as a layperson would not presume to know better than a trained doctor or surgeon.

Therefore, having ample patience will serve you well. You should expect to repeat the same basic practices 100s and 1000s of times, because cultivation is grueling and the path to Buddhahood, Immortality, or what have you, is something that takes lifetimes to achieve.

Now, that may not be your goal. You might simply want to live well in this life, and that is fine. The above message is more for those who aspire for mastery, importance or greatness, but do not yet understand what the journey requires. (I don't claim to understand it myself either).

This might be obvious, but in case it is not... be discerning about who you trust to guide you. There are genuine European/white practitioners who have entered their respective traditions the correct way, and there are Asian frauds and charlatans who have no qualms about using their cultural traditions to con people out of their money. You should respect what people have to say about their cultures and experiences, naturally, but don't use someone's ethnic background as a validation of their skill or character.

Most of all, maintain humility. Humility is the virtue that supports all other virtues. One that I think all of humanity struggles with the most, perhaps because we don’t understand it very well, and our survival has so often required its opposite.

Beyond that, I advise you not to place too much emphasis on seeking knowledge in books or written texts. The main reason for this: published texts on Buddhist practices come from oral traditions that may require empowerment and transmission. The people who publish these texts might not understand this, or they are relying on the good faith of spiritual seekers. One does themself a great disservice if they believe they can bypass the guidance of a teacher from a long-standing lineage.

The other reason is that the wisdom, capacity and personal growth one gains through cultivation is experiential. It can only be gained through consistent practice. A skillful teacher can guide you on the path, but ultimately, the real thing cannot be taught, and all words fail to capture its true majesty.

I hope this helps, and doesn't come across as too intimidating. Take it slow, let the path unfold before you, and enjoy each day as it comes. Keep a green bough in your heart, and the singing bird will come 💚

[archivalofsins]

So, let's talk about this thumbnail and line shall we.

Despite the line alluding to carnival/circus culture. Oh- wait you think I should explain that? You think we should waste time explaining how the term masquerade alludes to that. Well, I do too because no one else seems to have noticed.

Masquerades began around the fifteenth century and would become a staple of the Carnival Season. Many children who grew up on Disney would be familiar with it from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. People who grew up on that would also know that the king of the masquerade in that film or the king for a day is the King of Fools.

On a more recent note fans of The Case Study of Vanitas/ Vanitas No Carte would also be familiar with masquerade imagery. Due to the parade of Charlatan

Along with masquerade balls also known as Bal Masque. Because of-

Memoire 7- Bal Masque: Night of the Sneering Masks

Now carnival and masked performances have been related to multiple nomadic cultures. There is also a stigma around carnivals, circuses, and state fairs that allege individuals that work in those sorts of professions or areas are conman, thieves and tricksters. This comes up again regarding the tarot because this myth just dates back that far. Many people who worked in these areas were accused at times baselessly of being frauds and thieves and were directly under German persecution during the second world war.

Most notably in this case being the Romani people.

Sidenote everyone that has been deeply related to Mahiru's situation have had feathers in their songs this trial. Mirroring her in This Is How To Be In Love With You-

Kazui continues this trend. As it has been implied, he is going to speak on Mahiru's situation in his voice drama as well just as Yuno did.

"I feel bad for her."

However, unlike Yuno who spoke on her and has been connected to Mahiru within the portal timeline heavily since trial two began- Kazui has not been.

It should also be noted that unlike Yuno who is tearing up a pillow and releasing these feathers Kazui's thumbnail more so mirrors Mahiru within the beginning of This Is How To Be In Love With You.

They are both posing in a space where feathers are falling the only difference being Kazui's feathers are white instead of blue. There may be multiple birds to account for all the feathers dropping in Kazui's video proper or it could be a case of us not really knowing where these came from just like in Mahiru's instance.

Bringing more credence to Mahiru's line in I Love You,

"It’s ok for everyone else but not for me."

Something that really doesn't make sense for her to say because she was not the only prisoner voted guilty. Three other prisoners were voted Guilty as well. Making a statement like this could only make sense if she knows everyone else that killed due to love was voted Innocent except her.

In comparison to Futa's line in Backdraft which is far more specific,

"Why are the others INNOCENT? I won’t forgive, won’t forgive."

Also, despite the fact that his highlighted line alludes to masquerades Kazui is noticeably maskless this calls to attention his line in his song trailer,

"I'm probably a phony, through and through."

This connected back to his new highlighted lyric and his correctly fitting suit within the thumbnail seems to call attention to his development over the course of the trials. From his stiff unfitting lies and obvious masks to one that can hardly be told apart from his face.

Appearing as a magician commanding the stage and leading the audience into seeing what he wants them to see while overlooking the things he wishes to hide. Be that through sleight of hand or distractions dressed up as theatrics. This also highlights how Half may not have only displayed how he is a viewer and actor in his life but his wish to not only be able to lie on a set stage but whenever necessary. He wanted to present himself this way not only publicly but in his private life as well.

Something alluded to in his voice drama,

"And even if you recognize me as a murderer- That would be a conclusion that only someone deeply familiar with my circumstances could reach."

A line that could very much allude that someone close to Kazui was either aware or suspicious of him when it came to what transpired. Giving new context to certain written interrogation answers.

Q.13 Who do you want to see right now?

Kazui: They won’t see me anymore.

Amane: My father. I want him to praise me for all my hard work.

He says this person won't see him anymore not that they can't. So, this person isn't dead they are just choosing not to see him for some reason. If this individual was deeply familiar with Kazui's circumstances it would explain Kazui's noticeably anxious behavior during his voice drama as he discusses how Milgram came to the conclusion that he was a murderer as he may be genuinely wondering if someone ratted him out.

This would also explain his interest in who's in charge at Milgram and what it's connected to.

"I don't think someone like you could be looking over all ten of us right now, there must be some sort of organization behind all of this."

Now that he's collected more information despite not really changing much, he seems to have become more comfortable within Milgram as a facility. Similarly, to how he became more relaxed after looking into how the barrier worked.

Well, that's all I've gathered from the thumbnail on my end I'm going back to finishing that other post now.

[jamiegeode]

Why yes I would love to know more. I’ve only ever read The Wizard of Oz (and seen the sequel movie to The Wizard of Oz a long time ago) so please feel free to tell me all about them. Also who’s the pumpkin man??

YESSSS YAYAYAY

SO! Jack Pumpkinhead is a scarecrow made by Ozma(at the time known as the boy Tip) and then brought to life by Tip’s guardian, Old Mombi, one of the illegal witches* of the time. Jack is then taken by Mombi and locked up, and she tells Tip(who she never wanted in the first place**) she will turn him into a marble statue and use the Pumpkinhead as a servant instead. Also Tip’s basically been a slave, and Mombi’s like ‘hm. Less annoying AND I don’t need to feed it? Bye kid.’ This leads to Tip and Jack running away, and the rest of the events in The Land of Oz

It’s also worth noting that Jack Pumpkinhead? He has a deep, severe fear of death. Like he gets anywhere near water and goes ‘dear god, will my head start rotting from the inside?’ He also calls Tip his dad for the entirety of The Marvelous Land Of Oz(second book in the series) and ends up starting a pumpkin farm after his adventures, so that he never has to worry about running out of replacement heads. He’s great. Anxiety rep at its most whimsical.

*Mombi’s brand of magic being made illegal after the laws the Scarecrow passed upon becoming king, mostly prohibiting ‘unnatural’ or harmful magics, but pretty much stopping the majority of magicians and witches not directly loyal to the crown from doing any magic. Which. Mombi herself ain’t great but BRO he essentially banned TRANSITIONING SPELLS! **she was paid by the Wizard of Oz to take the heir to the throne of Oz and hide her so she would never be found- so she turned the princess of Oz into a boy. He doesn’t give a shit about gender tho bc of being what we would in modern terms call ‘a genderqueer icon’, but this did make it pretty hard to find them.

Ok. NOW TO THE ICON HERSELF, POSSIBLY BEST KNOWN FOR THESE ILLUSTRATIONS(WHICH APPEAR IN THE OFFICIAL COLLECTION, AND FROM THE BOOK PUBLISHED IN 1909):

(Yes these photos are from my own copy of the collection of books 1-5, Twas a gift)

OZMA, TIP, THE MONARCH OF OZ!!

She’s an icon. He helped a revolt led by the women of Oz. He then helped the scarecrow escape that same rebellion by making a cursed beast out of some rope, couches, palm fromnds, and a deer head. The curse is how much it hates its own body, being more confusing than a chimera. He fathered a horse. She gave another girl free rein of the palace, including Ozma’s private chambers, and that girl is Dorothy. She helped Dorothy’s entire family move to Oz to escape Debt, and might’ve also helped them commit tax fraud. She then took Dorothy’s family on a tour of the entirety of Oz, usually sharing a room with Dorothy. It was literally love at first sight(paraphrase: she loved the other girl when she first saw her). Before Dorothy moved in, they used a magic portrait/mirror set to call each other at a specific time each day. Dorothy can’t always make the calls, but Ozma is always there. Ozma gave Dorothy a magic belt so she could come and go from Oz as she wished. He’s part fairy. His cousin is part rainbow. Said cousin lowkey flirts with Dorothy. She made Dorothy a princess of Oz, with as much say in what happens as they have. They don’t give a fuck about gender but will perform gender roles like it’s a 30s television show, and I legit think that’s just for the fun of it. He made sure everyone in Oz has a minimum of one bread tree per family. He told the gnome king to fuck off and then stole his trinkets. Those trinkets were actually a neighboring kingdom’s royal family. She freaked out a little when she transitioned but then her friends went ‘it’s still you, we don’t care as long as youre you’ and it was deemed the smartest and wisest thing ever said by the speaker. She’s friends with the guy who paid Mombi to hide her.

I could go into the impact that having a canonical queer character in such an old and well known franchise had on me as a kid, and how reading Oz books helped me feel like I was stepping into a safe place, but tbh I’m kinda stuck on the amount of batshit she got herself into in the second book. Wild.

By the way, all of this was written in the 1900s, the decade, not the century. Frank Baum was a real one.