#it was like a magic trick

[generally-chaotic]

I just need everybody to see, the insane amount of plastic bags my family as accumulated over the past couple years. We used to have a use for them, we still do but the amount we use does not equal the amount we obtain.

[satsuha]

magician outfits...

[nartothelar]

card tricks! 🃏✨

[tectco]

I was thinking about Husk's love for magic tricks and was like haha magician husk! and i remembered there's magician assistants and i mean,,,Angel's right there sooooo

i whipped up magician and assistant huskerdust

[sariphantom]

Rise April 2024 Days 1, 2, and 3: Trick, Fashion, and Crossover

Technically... Usagi counts as crossover, considering he's from a different show.

[fisheito]

He's a magician

[turtleblogatlast]

Been thinking about how Donnie and Leo’s insecurities juxtapose each other.

Donnie is insecure about his place in the family, but confident in who he is outside of it.

Leo is secure about being a part of the family, but thinks he’s nothing outside of it.

I think it’s a very interesting comparison that reflects their respective personalities, Donnie’s “Will all I have to offer be enough?” versus Leo’s “Do I even have anything else to offer?”

[oleafia-art]

some golden guards + caleb

i wanted to take a break and do some character design of a few golden guards based off of some of the ones seen briefly in canon. i also drew hunter and caleb as references for faces and stuff. i tried to make them as similar as possible, but also looking very individual to one another. since belos claimed that hunter looks the most like caleb, i tried to stay true to that while keeping the other three looking similar but not quite as identical. anyways i love them <3 they’re like the most mentally ill family ever to me

these weren’t supposed to be real ocs or anything but then i ended up giving them names and backstories and so i wrote a little about them aaaand now im obsessed. i will try to make a full body ref for them, especially alistair and/or constance, if i have time

i apologize for my godawful handwriting 💔

[ghcstao3]

soap trying to do something sweet and domestic for ghost after a long day, like undressing him before bed so he didn’t have to exert any more energy than he already had. ghost appreciates it, is more than pliant under soap’s fingers.

and it is sweet and domestic… until soap continues to remove various knives from ghost’s person with every layer shed. there’s a collection growing on the bedside table, soap is getting exasperated, and he thinks—no wonder ghost is so tired, having been carrying about a million kilos of weaponry on his person all day

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

maglor does the scariest impressions. Once, he walked in on Maedhros and fingon and said in his feanor voice, ‘what is going on here?’ Mae almost had a heart attack.

[sarcasticmothdraws]

I fucked up vash a bit too much. He looking like a creepy pasta in 2012/j

Here's some regular vash as prep

And here we go...

Oh baby you look more fucked up on tumblrs preview

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

xXx

Here’s the thing about the kids.

Mike can be downright squirrely when he wants to be.

The guy is all long-limbs and ever-changing moods, and the second he spots Steve he vanishes around the corner and leaves no trace of himself behind.

Dustin, similarly, is catty.

The kid’s not fast, but when cornered, he has a tendency to do the most insane, ridiculous things.

Currently Steve is ninety percent sure he just saw him jump out a window, and the only reason it’s not one hundred is because his eyesight isn’t the greatest these days, and it’s entirely possible Dustin found something to put that stupid Weird Al shirt on and threw that out the window instead,

It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.

Knowing this, Steve automatically goes for the easiest target: Lucas.

See, Lucas is, of course, the most athletic and the only one likely to give Steve a run for his money should he too, decide to bolt.

He also was the most likely to stop and actually talk to Steve, because unlike his friends, he possessed some emotional maturity.

Or just maturity in general.

“Come on Luc, what’s going on?” Steve calls out, the second he rounds the corner and spots the kids. “You’re freaking me out.”

That makes Lucas stop and come to him, while the other two dipshits bolt.

Steve leans against a wall, eyebrow raised as Lucas slinks forward, but knows instantly from the grin the kid’s trying to hide that whatever’s going on right now, is their usual kind of bullshit.

(An internal part of him, the part that has to deal with the unusual bullshit every six months or so, sighs in relief.)

“Okay, you have to swear not to be mad.” Lucas starts, which is never a good sign, but at least it’s coming from Steve’s second most trustworthy kid.

(Will still holds first place, after the time he ratted out Mike for dumping nail polish all over Max’s jacket.

“She was super rude, but she didn’t deserve that.” Will had said with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Steve had ruffled his hair and together they had plotted a way to get revenge on Mike without letting Max outright murder him.)

“We uh, might have heard that you were being auctioned off tonight.”

Which was not at all where Steve thought this was going to go.

“Okay?” He hedges, waiting to see where Lucas spills the part that makes Steve worry.

“So you played D&D with Erica and Dustin, and neither of them will stop bragging about it.” Lucas says, a slight pink coloring his cheeks, “--and Mike won’t say it, but I know it bothers him too so we thought we could, uh, buy you. For the day.”

Lucas sends out his gigawatt grin, the one he uses when he’s trying to be his most charming. “To make you play D&D with us.”

Something warm and soft blooms in Steve’s heart. A kind of love he’d never had before hauling the little shits out of the line of fire the first time.

These kids were gonna be the death of him, he just knew it.

“If you ever tell the others I said this I will deny it ” Steve says, pulling out his wallet and forking out a handful of twenties. “But I would be happy to play your dungeons and dipshits game with you.”

Lucas doesn’t even correct him as he accepts the money with a grin--a real one this time. “Really?” He says, and it's so stupidly hopefully it makes Steve’s heart squeeze.

He reaches out, pulling the kid in for a hug for a second. Claps him on the back a few times before pushing fondly at his head.

“Over being taken on a date by some middle aged woman? Absolutely. But like I said,” He playfully shoves Lucas away, “You tell anyone and I will deny, deny, deny.”

“Sure Steve, whatever.” Lucas says, before running off to go find his friends.

Steve watches him go for a moment, smile on his face, before turning back to the gym.

He’d rather play D&D with the kids any day over dealing with this farce.

(The shocking thing, he finds himself thinking as he wanders over to where the other dates are situated, is that he means it. Even if a hot, beautiful girl bid on him--he’d rather spend the day with the kids.

Doesn’t that just say something about his life these days?)

xXx Eddie xXx

His club was going to kill him.

Normally, missing a game would be downright heresy. Betrayal of the highest order, particularly considering he’s the damn dungeon master. Sure, other people can DM, but not for the current ongoing campaign, which means Eddie landing his sorry ass in detention disrespected the sanctity of both his club and his people.

A fact he will need to beg on hands and knees to makeup for.

The siren song of the microphone, nevermind the idea of having an honest to god stage to prowl around on at lunch was simply too much for Eddie to resist, particularly when it came to his anti-Valentines Day speech.

Not that he was the type of guy to roll his eyes at all the lovey-dovey crap floating around, but more that people could be so stupid about it.

…and maybe he was a little bit jealous.

Eddie convinces himself it’s fine. He plans to have a session for the missed game on Sunday, when he knows his friends had planned to hang out at his place anyway.

Still feels bad about it as he walks down the halls of Hawkin’s high, annoyed that detention took as long as it did.

There’s people milling around, in the kind of stupid dressed up clothes that wasn’t formal, but could be described by evil words like “business casual.” The best skirts and knitted tops, slacks for the men paired with button up shirts or polos.

Like a fucking swarm of Steve Harrington’s--without any of the guys charm.

Not that he had any charm.

Definitely not.

Eddie gives an overactive shudder to clear his head, making his way out of the school as fast as he can.

Because life, the universe and everything in it hates him, he’s interrupted.

“Eddie! Oh thank god, look guys it’s Eddie!”

For the briefest of seconds after hearing Henderson’s voice, Eddie’s worried no one thought to tell the kids that Hellfire had been canceled.

Or, considering Eddie’s over the top response to the first time one of them had tried to miss a campaign night, they might be worried he’s dying (rather than simply an “unbearable idiot” as Jeff had called him earlier.)

His freshman lambs quickly swarm him, three pairs of eyes staring with weird amounts of hope (Sinclair, Henderson) and awkward embarrassment (Wheeler.)

“Eddie! Eddie, they're only letting Juniors and Seniors place the actual bets!” Dustin sounds frantic, practically vibrating in place before him. “They won’t let any of us bid on Steve!”

Any fondness Eddie felt evaporates in a puff of vexed smoke.

“That sounds like a you problem.” He challenges, raising an eyebrow.

For once, the freshmen don’t cringe back.

Instead he’s treated to steel sliding across Henderon’s face, Sinclair right behind him and Mike, who refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes, but stands with his friends anyway.

“Come on, think of all the chaos it’ll cause!” Dustin is pleading, his hands waving in the air in a way that reminds Eddie of himself. “Isn’t that like, you’re whole thing? Going against ‘the Man’!?”

Yes, because publicly buying Harrington for a date in front of Hawkin’s self-proclaimed elite was a great way to stick it to ‘the Man’, instead of, say, painting yet another target on his back.

“I don’t think getting into a bidding war over taking Steve Harrington on a date is going to go over well.” He deadpans.

Dustin throws his hands in the air. “It doesn’t have to be a date! ”

“Jennifer’s mom’s friends bid on her. For a girls night.” Mike adds so quietly it takes a minute for the words to process.

“Just saying!” He adds frantically, as though Eddie is going to call him out for this betrayal.

Considering the downright fearful look he’s wearing, Eddie might just do it for shits and giggles in his next campaign.

“We’re begging you, don’t you want to see Steve play D&D? We promise you can even watch the whole thing and embarrass him or whatever!” Dustin continues, hands clasped together in front of him.

“There you idiots are.” A judgey, annoyed voice calls, cutting into the conversation.

Eddie has never met Sinclair Jr. but immediately assumes the girl walking towards them with her arms firmly on her hips must be her “Steve’s up next, idiots. I know you know how auctions work, so I shouldn't have to remind you about having to physically be in the room to bid on him.”

She stops, cocking her head challengingly. “Unless one of you is going to call in from a payphone?”

Cheeky.

Eddie loves cheeky.

Even if she is eleven.

Muted calls ring out again from the gym. Apparently Hawkin’s middle aged women have started their fight for a day spent with one of the “young, local heroes”.

The very thought of Steve, all scraped up in the stupid Scoop’s Ahoy sailor uniform, guiding kid’s out of the mallfire with his broad chest and buff arms and--

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, bouncing frantically in place.

‘Head out of the gutter, Munson!’ He thinks, annoyed at himself (and perhaps, a little bit more understanding of the ladies shouting out numbers in the gym).

“Do you still only have five dollars?” He says, and it's not defeat, not yet, but he can see the hope reignite in their eyes.

This was stupid. A stupid, stupid, stupid idea!

“We have a hundred now.” Lucas says firmly, which is at least a lot more than five.

The calls from the gym are playful but there’s a catty undertone now. Those women really want that date with Steve, and Eddie knows walking in there, bidding on Harrington is a death sentence.

Dustin’s done something to his eyes. They’re wide, shined over like he’s about to cry. Like this fucking matters to him.

It drills into Eddie in a way he hates. How the three of them, (even Mike who is still trying his best not to act like he wants this) are handing him all their dreams. He’s someone they look up to, someone who can make things happen, and he’s always liked that feeling--but this?

This was asking a lot.

“Eddie man, please. You’re our only hope.” Dustin says it softly, and goddamn him, it’s like he knows Eddie is weak for this shit. That under all his leather and chains that he cares.

About them.

He just wishes what they didn’t care about was fucking Steve Harrington.

He knows they think the guy hung the moon. Just as he knows he'll need more than money to fend off the competition and actually win Steve: he'll need a plan.

Knows, even, just how he’ll do it.

“Baby Sinclair, a word?” He crooks a finger, walking a few paces backwards as a plan rapidly forms.

She flicks her eyes over to him, and with an appraisal that says she had already judged him and found him lacking. “It’s Erica.”

Eddie bows low to her, arm brushing the floor. “My deepest apologies, Lady Erica.”

She rolls her eyes but comes over anyway and lets Eddie whisper in her ear.

Read the rest on A03: LINK

[maxx-doodles]

I wonder what they could possibly be up to?

[justaz]

merlin’s secret being a visual thing. when he is around arthur or gwen or leon or morgana or [insert whatever character here] merlin seems pale and thin, almost like a ghost or an apparition. when the sun lands on him he reflects it like a corpse, he eyes seem dark and dull. he has this ethereal beauty to him, this otherworldly visage that leads many to believe he is of fae blood. he just doesn’t seem to be 100% human. but when he is ONLY with lancelot or gaius (cough or gwaine bc gwaine DEFINITELY knew) merlin is heartachingly human. merlin shines in the sunlight, colors are brighter and more vibrant around him, and his smiles are wide and his laughs are boisterous. he takes on color and leaves everyone wanting to know him. but when other join in or interact with the two, merlin shifts before their eyes so quickly and suddenly that they aren’t sure whether or not what they saw was a trick of the light. the idea still leaves them wanting more and wanting to see the merlin who is just so full of life but that merlin only appears for a small select group of people. merlin who has a guard so high that it has an effect of other’s perception of him.

[notbecauseofvictories]

it takes years for terry pratchett's books to get consistently good. I would argue that the series doesn't really hit its stride until Feet of Clay, which means that pratchett was writing and being published for 12 years before he found his groove.

and I genuinely can't imagine that. in part because I do think that pratchett's publication calendar looks different than what's expected of writers today---he had about 2 books published per year for his entire career. he must have been writing furiously, and the publisher must have relatively quickly gotten these to press.

but also....I just can't imagine any modern-day publisher keeping an author on their list for twelve years, unless that author is a prestige get or a constant presence on the bestseller list. And what does it say about the state of publishing that you can't go on publishing someone's good-but-not-revelatory books until they figure out what story they're trying to tell?

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo’s tendency to push his way into the spotlight despite clearly being a natural in the shadows. Hell, you could argue that his worst moments are when he’s forcing himself onstage, and his best are when he does things no one notices until it’s already been done.