#make up a criminal

[meli-writes]

L'État, C'est Mecanisée

The Sun Empress wakes, left cheek scraping on tile, shackled to a blue-bloodied, automatic operating table — crown jewel of the mechanised annex of her Grand Inventor. Alchemical flames lick distant and resplendent at the royal apartments, follies of blue and gold dance on the mirrored masks of its half-clockwork chevaliers, broken on the marble courtyard.

“It would be foolish to hurt me, the XIVth Legion will soon surround this palace. You might still join me, I assure you — the pain is soon forgotten,” she says, with gentle arrogance.

The light is eclipsed by an approaching revolutionary. A red ribbon hair-tie falls limply past shadows that shift without due cause, yet refuse to part from her face; the Empress can see only an uncertain glint in her eyes, of a since-passed storm, and, in her hands, the glass-covered hemisphere of a mechanical mind — the Empress’ own crown jewel.

“No— you can’t mean this,” she says, recoiling, “this— mockery, of enlightenment, of progress: our nation’s destiny. The ruin of a precious mind, to make me the last of them?”

“You wouldn’t be the last,” Red Ribbon says, a disarming mainspring of melancholy.

“Of course— I see. You think you’ll make me a puppet, that I’ll wind-up my legions on words you place on the platter of my tongue.” It would be a mistake, a meek and distant voice says, the legions will never outnumber the uprisings she needs now converts them from. Every mask that slips, each half-recognised face, births another revolutionary.

“I’ll bleed to death on this table,” she retorts, “you’ll never hope to achieve what I’ve done.”

Red Ribbon doesn’t speak; she fractures the silence when the mournfully-clutched hemi-brain slips to the floor, spilling ten-thousand brass wheels, springs, and pinions across the floor. Rune-clad glass shards fall into a drain, fizzling with dying light.

She kneels and takes the Empress’ hands, her own trembling, and even this close, the Empress cannot see her sympathy. Does she mean to surrender? To beg the diplomatic method, that preserves her mind and the subtle features of untouched flesh.

Another revolutionary holds tightly the wrist of a forcefully-invited Duchess, unsure if she is rescued or captured, whom the Grand Inventor intended to work this upon personally.

“What? You wish my blessing, to despoil me? There is no artificer amongst you, I’ll—”

“Your Eminence,” Red Ribbon says. The Empress blinks in shock, and there is an audible ticking in the room. How did such respect purpose itself, from a black-guarded traitress?

“Do you recall who first introduced it to you, the clockwork?”

“Introduced? Invented,” she says breathlessly, “I am their creator!" The Empress was an upset heir, presaged into power upon the sudden Arcane Virulence of 1674; the unblemished royal survivor, then executor of the Imperial Retaliation of 1675 against an accused aggressor who provided bountiful material for the creation of IInd, IIIrd, and IVth Legions.

Red Ribbon gives a painful sigh, and holds a soft, warm hand to the Empress’ right cheek till she stops pulling away. “Okay, so when did you invent it?”

“1673,” the Empress says, curt and suspicious, but indulging in the delaying action. The Empress had been a quiet child, then, and lonely. She was artistic, and not bookish, and shared it with nearly no one — nearly. “One day I knew; I was simply destined for more.”

“Do you remember that day, anyone who might have — witnessed your achievement?” she asks, “Perhaps you woke up to someone — not the handmaid, she was— not there.”

“You had a frequent guest, if you recall; of the mechanists’ guild. Where might he be now?”

The Empress’ gaze flicks from broken clockwork, to Red Ribbon’s skirt — tattered, stained with human blood, alchemised spirit, and clockwork grease — to that only in her mind’s eye; a figure, its face obscured, but a cogwheel sigil-rune at its neck. It was— it was— gone.

“I understand if it’s difficult to remember, your Eminence. It was— a long time ago,” Red Ribbon says, running her other hand through the Empress’ hair. It is barely felt, smooth and unnaturally cold, even though Red Ribbon is sweating in the alchemical heat.

She gestures to someone behind her, and is given a silk tissue with a black mark.

“And this, please— do you remember this?”

The Empress looks, truly intentful. She sees it all around them, in the annex, before she cannot help but blink, heavily, as it disforms. It is— nothing, gunpowder or soot. Some few words gather on her lips, and she tries to speak— tries to speak— tries to— to— to—

Her head is jittering, with a lone eye pinned and screwed to her reflection in a discarded, mirrored mask, elegantly engraved and with red ribbon ties. Whenever it becomes clear she feels her mind whirring slower. And she hears it, the ticking, more wretched each time.

Everyone else can hear it too.

Red Ribbon withdraws, slowly, only letting go when the Empress’ shivering hands are too far away to hold. The clockworks should not understand that anything is different, the little that remains of them subsumed with the dual-power of arcane mechanisms.

Everyone else can see it too.

Where newly bloody and machine-marred glass meets bone and long-scarred flesh, where the left-side of the Empress’ face has been torn, and a half-skull that is gone, replaced with a clicking clockwork mind, a glimmering sigil-rune on its side; the prototypical maker’s mark.

Red Ribbon cannot hear her own sobbing over the ticking, and tries to ask one last question as springs pull and gears lock in a vergingly unbearable tightness.

“And me— do you remember me, Marie?”

The Empress tries to—

---

(Masterpost)

originally written 19/02/2024, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Rebel who would give you a taste of your own medicine, if you weren't already addicted

for additional context, this was also my own prompt account. where i posted a mix of thief, assassin, bounty hunter, smugger, spy, rebel, pirate, fixer, fencer, and mob boss prompts. i might resurrect it here too, to see how people use my old prompts anew <3

i'm also not really an ES writer, but draw a lot of inspo & love their work as well as have a LOT of doll influences in my work.

[sunriseovergotham]

characters have to be a little bit awful in ways that you cant defend. its good for the ecosystem. your honor he did do that. He did in fact do that

[hinamie]

post-graduation trip airport looks

[emmcfrxst]

jason todd swears like a sailor whenever you ride him. the visual of your body on top of his, the feeling of your hands on his chest and your cunt fluttering around him, the sweet sounds of your moans and mewls— everything about getting ridden makes jason’s dick hard and turns his brain to mush

[stargirl230]

kaito screencap redraw! plus my favorite panel from the scarlet return arc lol

I've been reading detco for like 2 years and the unhealthy obsession fanart motivation finally caught up

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

[mohntilyet]

illario as the grandchild that is most like caterina is something i'm loving to chew on. the grandson that took her lessons to heart the most. kill anyone who sees your face and knows your name, "we are not revolutionaries", the first out of the two to prioritise the contract. power at any cost, and the only one to lean into the unnecessary abuse that their grandmother told them was tradition. why is anyone surprised he allied with the venatori? and then there's illario's considerable skill in infiltration and manipulating any mark, he has always had the charisma that lucanis lacked. illario isn't attached, he has/can/will use someone and immediately drop them; "that does free me from promises i don't intend to keep". he can lie about how much he cares so well that he fools a magister into believing he loves her. he kills zara without hesitation to cover his own tracks, meanwhile lucanis blindly promises a young girl in the middle of a siege that he will help her find her father. even the lessons about family stick with him, and in this entire messy power struggle, he never actually orders anyone to directly kill caterina or lucanis, not until he's backed into a corner.

and even after all that. despite even lucanis believing illario should be first talon, lucanis is still the better killer. illario is not strong enough to be the brutal assassin caterina needs him to be. so when lucanis seems to fill the role his mother left, grief and love for her dead heir apparent remains, and any of the other qualities caterina needs in her next talon doesn't matter. whatever his mother was, lucanis has to be. what illario does doesn't matter, because he will always be second best to caterina's memory of her favored daughter.

[degenerateshinji]

did i fix it

[wistfulwatcher]

EMILY & HOTCH DANCING in 7.24 RUN

[l1li4n]

HE'S BABIE

[isawthismeme]

[meli-writes]

Prescription

/// CW: peril (gunpoint), dubious consent, impact play, partial nudity, whorephobia, and mention of transphobia. ///

The handle came away with an unsettling clatter but, greatly relieving for Lili, could tumble safely away to the carpet. Every other mansion she’d seen was floored-to-ceiling’d with rich, deepening hardwoods as percussive as they were unethically imported.

Someone at last had the unwise taste to make things a bit softer, and no one would hear Lili’s heels clacking away then back to the evening’s do.

She pressed the door openly, slipping through the gap into a gently-lit abyss. No one would notice. Lili turned to peer behind the door and felt a warm, metal cylinder press itself against her cheek. At least that’s what she thought.

The fireplace twinkled and crackled slowly in the shadow’s eyes, Lili looked away burning with terror while her body froze in place. “Gotcha.”

“Goodness me, awfully sorry Mam. Just— getting myself lost is all now.” Perhaps the definitely mob-affiliated lady, tucked away in a dead-quiet study, hadn't just heard several minutes of failed lockpicking, followed by some furious few minutes of unscrewing.

“Hmm. I don’t think I’m as sure, my eyes have followed you all evening, darling. Has something been making you nervous?”

“No no, Mam. Quite ordinary for my face, always greeting with anxiety. And come to mention it, I’m here with—” Smack.

Before she could dare wonder where the barrel was the shadow had circled round and spanked her, then pressed the pistol harshly into the curve of her back, forcing her forward into the room’s centre, away from escape.

“What is it you're looking for?”

“Oh nothing important— please— just, the bathroom?”

Lili hadn’t hydrated for hours beforehand, spiro would get in her way, so even a few sips of dinner’s rosy pairing had left her lightheaded. The shadow’s disbelief smouldered in the pause, before it slammed the door shut and sent Lili’s nails digging into her palms.

“You’ll have your knees on my rug now, darling. Any other move and pop.”

She would have stayed frozen without the fire, it wasn’t the worst to sink down next to it, and most of her was pretty bare at the moment.

Lili held herself close, and still, but her eyes searched till she spied the iron poker just outwith her reach. It was a bit of hope.

“Now, I’m going to need you to answer at least one of my questions properly, or your evening will be much less pleasant than the rest of my guests.”

My rug. My guests. Oh no. “Who do you work for?”

“I was oh—” The shadow uncast itself and she was— incredible. High-heeled boots fell away to a dark and silken affair that made sure to demonstrate every muscle on her.

Lili shuddered, and not only from base intimidation, as a clutch bag was plucked from her fingers. “—accompanying a gentleman, Mam. I work a shop, but… sometimes find myself needing the help.”

The lady pulled a high-cheek higher — stretching lips, painted like dark chocolate, into a grimace. She was perusing through the bag, tossing out six sizes of condom, a packet of makeup wipes, a small granola bar and—

“Hmm, lying.”

—the German-made subcombat was perhaps too much of an upgrade over the typical prostitute’s derringer. It was disarmed quickly and placed on the desk, far out of reach.

“Don’t tell me it’s for self-protection.”

Technically that wasn’t a question, so Lili kept silent. She looked again at the poker — that was closer, for now — but the lady could see her twitching in place. Ca-click.

“Bend over.”

Lili’s breath roared over the flames, hot and heavy with muffled panic.

“I told you, if you won’t tell me when I ask you, then you’ll tell me when I hurt you. Now bend the fuck over.”

Her head juddered, trying to stay up as she bent herself down. Suddenly, desperately, she pulled back up. “Wait! It’s— there’s a rival. But I can’t say more—”

A boot hoisted itself over Lili’s shoulder and stomped her into the carpet, sending her dress rising over her ass. “Because they’ll kill you?”

The sharpened heel dug into her shoulder blade. A smile from above watched as Lili chafed her cheek against the floor, nodding in awkward terror.

The heel pulled free so the lady might kneel down and draw Lili’s face up to hers, the other hand finding itself wrapped around the taught hem of her dress. “Darling, if that’s all you plan to say then I’m going to be the one killing you. And there’s a lot that could happen between when I would, and when they would."

She pulled, exposing terribly insubstantial lingerie and sending the thief sprawling into her own bosom, face blooming red as the thief attempted to withdraw.

“Back down, darling.”

Lili pressed her face against the rug, felt the heat licking at her nearly bare arse, not seeing the crop now resting in the lady’s hands. “It’s, respectfully, more complicated than that, Mam. They’re holding something that I rather need— AHhh.”

The pain was quick, sharp, and heavy. The only relief a better, if bitter, understanding for her present position.

“Continue.” That was just her testing Lili, enjoying her.

“She’s got a hold on all my— Ahh.” Lighter. Lili had slipped and not noticed. “—meds, she has my medication. AHHHh.” Harder, the lady’s twisted version of a reward.

“What kind?” Crop falling before Lili could speak again.

“EEek. Hormones, they’re hormones. I’m—” Lili felt it resting on her, waiting. “Fuck, Mam. I’m a tranny, okay?” She felt the pad drawn up her back, shivering as it slowly pulled away.

“Quite the blasphemous word for yourself, darling. And who is she?”

Lili couldn’t answer that, she couldn’t. If she wasn’t screwed already this would kill her for sure. The rug was stained by a few heated tears, but she hadn’t felt it come back down—

Thwack. The lady’s sympathies had harsh, impatient limits it seemed.

“YAAAHaha. Fuckin’ hells. It’s Coloski, Reb Coloski.”

Lili tried to peek up but was quickly shoved back down, crop pressing against her temple as the lady mused. “Fucking bitch. And how’d you end up stealing for her?”

“I was—” Lili breathed in, and out. It was too late to deal out half-truths. “I ran out of my meds, and they refused me anymore and I couldn’t go back, okay? So, worked the few connections I had, Mam, and I guess it— worked its way up the chain.”

The lady eyed Reb’s thief, her thief now. Every family traded in debts but Coloski always loved to play with vulnerability.

“And now you don’t get any more — until a job is done?”

“No, I— Ahh.”

Not that she didn’t love it also, but this kind was insulting — and not for her to play with.

“Straighten up, darling. Pull those legs apart for me.” Even if the dress wasn’t hiked it wouldn’t have helped now.

Her cock pressed against the ungenerous mesh at her front, the lady brushing her crop against it, drawing it along her thigh, begging to drive out more answers. Or perhaps just a few more squeals.

“She make you do anything else?”

“I’ve had to do things for jobs, Mam, but not for her— Eeeh.” It stinged much more here. The lady need only swipe over, not under, and leave Lili with little padding to save her. “But, she promised she’d help me — Ahh — promised I’d be out of her debt for this job."

“She set you up.”

Lili shivered and blinked, looked at her with dumb shock. A quick smack was enough to squeal her back to her senses. “Eeee-ahh. W-What do you mean?”

“She’s done it before.” The lady nodded her head to the side. “How much do you know about the Victorinos?”

“Only that is their mansion. Boss went missing some years back but then in comes this woman, sister I think, and takes over in his stead. Not my place to ask why, Mam.”

She bent down, graced Lili’s lips for a terrifying moment. Her hair was composed into long, black waves, with a rather predominant nose imposing its own beauty on her face.

She looked in Lili’s eyes and purred.

“This woman.”

“M-m-m-miss Victorino?”

“Yes, darling?” This thief was all hers now. “Did you think I was another lost guest, like you?”

Lili tried, unsure of what she’d even say, to answer. “I— AHHHhh.” It was swift, and hard, and landed much closer to her centre than was bearable.

Vic — Miss Victoria Victorino — was talking now, and her thief needed to shush.

“Bitch sent you into Dante’s Inferno, where it would be quite undue on my reputation for anyone to walk out.”

She started padding the crop against Lili, who tensed at its rhythm and found herself blushing and hardening in response. “There’s a mutual agreement I think, if one meant to test me, to let me dispose of one of her more useless tools, from time to time.”

“Dispose?” THWACK. “YAAAaaah.”

“Kill.”

Vic narrowly missed the luridly pitched lace between Lili’s legs. On purpose — the threat brought her enough joy and there wasn’t quite such an evocative pain to draw from messy, jumbled parts.

Tears parted from the thief’s eyes. “Are you gonna?”

Vic sighed, giving Lili a soft, crooning show of sympathy. Laying the crop behind her and sinking down to Lili’s side, holding stiff as Vic’s arms wrapped around her.

“You’re still a thief, and a liar, and I can’t let you go— but—”

She grabbed Lili by the chin, squishing her cheeks and forcing her to look at a very, very particular cabinet, its contents exposed by crystal glass.

“—do you know what your prescription is?”

---

Lili was still scrambling herself back together as she hurried back to the lobby, pulling her dress the pitiful distance down she could. Miss Victorino was shortly behind her, and even if she tried to run first she’d have to get past—

“There you are, whore. What’re you doing?” Lili's gentleman had his fingers clutched viciously around the whole of her arm, pulling her against a dusty, velvet coat. “Waiting till I’m drunk so you can sneak off without doing what I paid you so damn much for?”

The cheapest bastards always expected the most for it. “N-no sir, but—”

“But nothing. I paid you. You fuckin’ belong to me—”

Lili could hear boots where the carpet ended. Feeling a far tighter grip work its way around her other arm, as the man began to stutter. “W-w-woah, hey! Boss Vic! Man!”

“This one’s mine now, Harv.” Lili saw his eyes widen, for a moment in annoyance, then in fear. He gave way as Vic pulled. “Tell the footman what she owes you, and the right amount. You’ll get double that for your trouble.”

“Of course, ‘course Boss. I won’t forget to—”

“Now. And don’t fucking harass the staff on the way out.” He scrambled, and at least wasn’t Lili’s problem anymore.

Vic groaned in frustration. “And, he in on it?”

Lili was too close to look up, so just shook her head. This part wasn’t a lie. Coloski gave her medication, but Lili still needed the money. And she couldn’t be blamed for a double booking when it’s what got her in here.

“Shame. He calls me man again and he’ll be wishing it was merely treachery. Now, about you– hmm.”

Vic’s closeness was having a certain effect on Lili. She belonged to Vic now, her mind familiar with an ecstatic mote of what that meant.

But whether it was better or worse than Reb, it wasn’t good — the humiliating delirium that fear held over her was clearly visible to Vic. And, to everyone else in view.

Vic pulled Lili close to her chest, running fingers through her hair, bestowing a dignity though only so she could make her lose it again later.

“I think I've entertained enough guests for tonight, you however have scarcely begun.”

---

(Masterpost)

originally written on cohost 10/12/2023, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Mob Boss who looks a lot different than they used to

[handweavers]

ive said this before but it's hard being an lgbt malaysian and listening to western lgbt people freak out over things that have been our reality the entire time. i've had to come to terms with the fact that i'll likely never be able to legally transition in malaysia, will never be able to change my name or gender on documents and it will probably remain illegal for me to use public bathrooms, seek medical care, exist in public, do literally anything as a trans person there for the rest of my life. i am not happy about this and i am luckier than most having the ability to medically transition in canada but i'm always hyperaware that this can be taken away from me at any moment (and is likely to in the near future with the slow death of liberalism in canada as well), that whenever i return i'm at risk of imprisonment if i'm caught by the wrong person, and i know the reality of what life is like for people back home who do not have the privileges i do. but the thing is that even in malaysia trans people use the bathroom and exist in public and have jobs and fall in love and see the doctor and it is possible to carve out a life that is not wholly built upon despair. it's really really fucking hard and scary but we do it anyway because we have to. so it's just really hard to stomach white people in like california freaking out like it's impossible to live in these circumstances or no one else could possibly understand, sorry

[lemoneste]

I loved that comic of like mischievous Tommy making Benrey jealous please more 🧟

bro is chill abt it 👍

[duwude3]

"I chose you because you are genuinely kind to and devoted to other people."

[lolhex12]

broke: Jeremy is captain sunshine golden retriever boy who hides his feelings and his fucked up family situation

woke: actually🤓☝️ Jeremy first met Andrew in juvie when they were 15 & 13 respectively

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.