#manufacturing wizard

[electropneumatic]

KUKA HAAS, MANUFACTURING WIZARD

Commissioned from Ziruka (@rukafais) during her Wizard Sale - it ends on December 31st, so if you want one for yourself, move fast! They did a great job, I'm really happy with the art.

This is the MANUFACTURING WIZARD, otherwise known as Kuka Haas! It formed one day in an industrial plant, and has been exploring ever since. Spells include SUMMON STOCK ALUMINUM and SENTIENT FORKLIFT.

[wild-magic-oops]

It's so cute that Gale pays a sorcerer Tav/Durge a compliment about their magic:

For reference - this is the line a cleric gets:

[goopi-e]

✨ Turned some of my artwork into physical prints! ✨

I don't have an online shop or anything, but if any of these designs caught your eye, you can either:

Donate $10 over on my Boosty (here), or

DM me a recent (!) receipt for an eSIM for Palestine (guide here if you need it)

— and I'll mail you these beauties right away.

And don't forget to DM me on Tumblr or Discord (goopi_e) first if you're interested~.

[iruludavare]

{ ooc. @ finnish phds how does it feel to get AN ENTIRE SWORD when you graduate 🎤 }

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

It's been a bit over a year since the core four (me, my beloved, his bestie gun wizard esquire, and my bestie, doctor horse girl) went on a very successful very effective bonding group cohesion road trip, which is long enough to observe a pattern in recollection and presentation. keep in mind that literally no one in the core four is White and 3/4ths of us are from (recent) immigrant families.

the way my beloved and doctor horse girl describe this trip: we went on a roadtrip with friends! it was fun!

audience reaction: how nice!

vs

me and gun wizard, esquire describing this trip: WE DROVE TO WEST VIRGINIA IT WAS SO COOL. what? yeah, of course on purpose.

audience reaction: ...west virginia????

so anyway. maybe I'm not the normal person here.

[homunculus-argument]

My boyfriend is a person who likes exact instructions. He also has a remarkably large head. Like, in the kind of range where regular clothing manufactures do not make hats that size because it's not financially profitable. He is 2 cm taller than me and his head circumference is 3 cm smaller than my waist. Can walk into any shop that sells hats, ask them "what's the biggest size you carry?" and walk out after hearing it's too small. And if he ever ends up in a workplace where the uniform requires a hat, but they do not have any headgear available that would fit him, it's in their best interest to at least have some kind of specific instructions of what kind of hat he should have before telling him to just bring his own hat from home.

Because "it doesn't matter, as long as your head's covered" does not rule out his awesome big-ass felted giant wizard hat.

[prokopetz]

On the one hand, it's true that the way Dungeons & Dragons defines terms like "sorcerer" and "warlock" and "wizard" is really only relevant to Dungeons & Dragons and its associated media – indeed, how these terms are used isn't even consistent between editions of D&D! – and trying to apply them in other contexts is rarely productive.

On the other hand, it's not true that these sorts of fine-grained taxonomies of types of magic are strictly a D&D-ism and never occur elsewhere. That folks make this argument is typically a symptom of being unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons' source material. D&D's main inspirations are American literary sword and sorcery fantasy spanning roughly the 1930s through the early 1980s, and fine-grained taxonomies of magic users absolutely do appear in these sources; they just aren't anything like as consistent as the folks who try to cram everything into the sorcerer/warlock/wizard model would prefer.

For example, in Lyndon Hardy's "Five Magics" series, the five types of magical practitioners are:

Alchemists: Drawing forth the hidden virtues of common materials to craft magic potions; limited by the fact that the outcomes of their formulas are partially random.

Magicians: Crafting enchanted items through complex manufacturing procedures; limited by the fact that each step in the procedure must be performed perfectly with no margin for error.

Sorcerers: Speaking verbal formulas to basically hack other people's minds, permitting illusion-craft and mind control; limited by the fact that the exercise of their art eventually kills them.

Thaumaturges: Shaping matter by manipulating miniature models; limited by the need to draw on outside sources like fires or flywheels to make up the resulting kinetic energy deficit.

Wizards: Summoning and binding demons from other dimensions; limited by the fact that the binding ritual exposes them to mental domination by the summoned demon if their will is weak.

"Warlock", meanwhile, isn't a type of practitioner, but does appear as pejorative term for a wizard who's lost a contest of wills with one of their own summoned demons.

Conversely, Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Legends of Ethshar" series includes such types of magic-users as:

Sorcerers: Channelling power through metal talismans to produce fixed effects; in the time of the novels, talisman-craft is largely a lost art, and most sorcerers use found or inherited talismans.

Theurges: Summoning gods; the setting's gods have no interest in human worship, but are bound not to interfere in the mortal world unless summoned, and are thus amenable to cutting deals.

Warlocks: Wielding X-Men style psychokinesis by virtue of their attunement to the telepathic whispers emanating from the wreckage of a crashed alien starship. (They're the edgy ones!)

Witches: Producing improvisational effects mostly related to healing, telepathy, precognition, and minor telekinesis by drawing on their own internal energy.

Wizards: Drawing down the infinite power of Chaos and shaping it with complex rituals. Basically D&D wizards, albeit with a much greater propensity for exploding.

You'll note that both taxonomies include something called a "sorcerer", something called a "warlock", and something called a "wizard", but what those terms mean in their respective contexts agrees neither with the Dungeons & Dragons definitions, nor with each other.

(Admittedly, these examples are from the 1980s, and are thus not free of D&D's influence; I picked them because they both happened to use all three of the terms in question in ways that are at odds with how D&D uses them. You can find similar taxonomies of magic use in earlier works, but I would have had to use many more examples to offer multiple competing definitions of each of "sorcerer", "warlock" and "wizard", and this post is already long enough!)

So basically what I'm saying is giving people a hard time about using these terms "wrong" – particularly if your objection is that they're not using them in a way that's congruent with however D&D's flavour of the week uses them – makes you a dick, but simply having this sort of taxonomy has a rich history within the genre. Wizard phylogeny is a time-honoured tradition!

[girlballs]

activities for women

step on rake

illegal dr. pepper manufacturing and distribution

noise music production

getting sucked off by a wizard

arson

[malicious-gay]

so maybe you’re a wizard

and maybe you’re easily one of the best wizards of your generation (and maybe some before)

and maybe that’s all you are

maybe every ounce of self-confidence you have is manufactured. maybe it’s an illusion and maybe you’re convinced that if people never squint and look beyond it then they’ll never have the see the rest of you.

(because maybe they won’t like what they see. maybe you’re too selfish. maybe you’re too arrogant. maybe you’re nothing like what they expect and you have to be what they expect because they don’t want anything else.)

and maybe the idea that someone could love you for who you are instead of the skills you honed and the services you provide is strange and foreign. maybe it’s uncomfortable because of course not, no way, don’t be absurd. look at the illusion, astral project, take the fantasy version of myself I created in my hands just for you. it’s better than the real thing.

maybe the real thing is awful and messy and broken.

maybe all you’ve ever been is the sum of someone else’s aspirations.

maybe all your loved ones ever touted were your skills and abilities and how smart you were and how clever you were and how brilliant and sharp and talented you were. and maybe that was all they cared about.

maybe you were led to believe you were never more than your abilities by the same person who later helped take them away. (the same person who convinced you you’d be nothing without them, and never good enough for more. the same person who showed you the endless possibilities that were for someone better than you. someone more than you. no, no, the candy is sweet but it’s not for you.)

and maybe now you think being smarter than everyone is the only thing you’ll ever have so you have to be the smartest person in the room because that’s all you have.

that’s all you have.

and if you don’t have that then you’ll have nothing. you’ll be nothing.

without it you are nothing.

and maybe you’re a wizard and the woman you loved who constantly showed you a world outside your reach comes to you at your lowest. when you’re stripped of everything you felt made you whole.

and she tells you the one thing you can do to fix it. the one thing you can do, the one power left in your hands.

the one thing you’re good for without your brilliance, without your intelligent, without the skill she helped take away from you.

you can die

(you weren’t anything to anyone anymore anyway)

[werecreature-addicted]

"Theres no way a werewolf could fit inside a human manufactured condom"

I never even thought of that, holy shit. Imagine wanting to have protected sex with your werewolf partner and having to get werewolf condoms? Or if it's a super ass magical world have a witchy alternative?

if magic is real they're simply has to be a magical way to have safe sex. there's no way Wizard chlamydia is a thing, right? In the same way that new technology is inevitably used for the manufacturing of porn (the printing press, the internet, AI chatbots) Magic simply must be used to better sex for humans and monsters at some point. there has to be a contraception spell or condom magic item.

[electropneumatic]

The Manufacturing Wizard inspects a CNC milling machine. His belt is similar to a chain-type automatic tool changer, and he uses it to hold a couple cutting tools.

[thepioden]

I just. I love the party I DM SO much. They're ridiculous. You know how some parties are murderhobos? Mine are litigation hobos. I think this is because the clorcerer is a former IRL lawyer and his IRL wife started out playing a fiend-pact fire genasi warlock. Her pact was negotiated by Daddy's Lawyers. And since we've established she has access to a pack of infernal attorneys, this has become their go-to.

They got Mammon and Asmodeus arguing over an infernal FDIC situation.

They brought formal charges against the Grand Vizier of the City of Brass.

They stole the Tamlin (hereditary title) from the Queen of Air and Darkness by getting her tangled in a custody dispute with Hell over his soul. The Janet Precedent has been invoked. (Asmodeus is going to notice the repeated chicanery at some point.)

The genasi is going to help our Fairy wizard depose his lightly despotic archfey father by seducing the man and then taking his kingdom and his heir in divorce court.

They're working on ousting a dragon from her involuntary indenture as a museum curator/collection object belonging to a Dao and I suspect contract law will be involved.

I will not at all be surprised if the Warforged decides to somehow seize the patent for his manufacture from the Noble Dao who holds it and liberates his siblings that way.

Just. These litigious bastards. They're ridiculous. I adore them to bits.

[genericpuff]

re: your tags on the rowling / musk post, specifically villains on saturday morning cartoons > wondering why we hate those who emulate it

idk if you ever played toontown, but i’ll always find it hilarious that disney released a game all about fighting big corporations from taking over small businesses, where the enemies (aka cogs (in the machine)) are all named after idioms / insults for types of corp employees (i.e. pencil pusher, ambulance chaser, big wig, loan shark, cold caller); esp considering disney is the Perfect example of the types of corporations that the game teaches you are evil and soulless. honestly, it’s a game i hold near and dear to my heart, and i recommend trying out toontown rewritten if you ever feel like it

i have NOT played toontown but i remember seeing the commercials for it all the time at like, the end of DVD's n junk and REALLY WANTING TO PLAY IT but ofc we didn't have a computer most of the time growing up and when we did it was hooked up with dial-up that my parents always got really clutchy over (idk if this was just a circumstance of the time period but like. did anyone else have a parent who acted like it was a life-or-death scenario if they missed even a single phone call ??? because my folks definitely did LOL) so something like toontown was just not in the cards LOL but I didn't know Toontown Rewritten was a thing so... maybe it's time for me to make another one of my childhood self's dreams come true (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

but that is really ironic, it's wild (and sad honestly) how so many accomplished writers and creators can become disconnected from what they originally represented and wrote about through... the disillusionment of fame and wealth i guess ??? or maybe it was just mold on the walls the whole time ?? 💀😆 i mean shit even rowling herself told a story about a boy literally living in the closet who finally escaped and went on to fight against an organization of literal fucking wizard nazi's, and yet now she seemingly missed the entire point of why kids resonated with her books so much and why they saw it as an inspiring message of hope and acceptance and love and persevering and standing up against literal fucking fascism ??? hello ???

actually there was a great video i watched a while ago about how despite the messages we took away from those books growing up, the HP books were also completely manufactured through the lens of capitalism, like not just as a franchise but on a narrative level. def give it a watch because it really kinda blew my mind and opened up a whole new perspective on the series for me LOL

[dduane]

I love your young wizards books! There’s an article in the NYTs about “plumes of steam” floating up from the belly of Manhattan and thanks to YW, I know it’s just dragons. ❤️

Thank you!

...And yeah, dragons, absolutely. :) (...Well, these guys, anyway.)

Via the Errantry Concordance: the Fireworm (Lanthanodrax speleotraxis)1

(Also the occasionally occuring “sport” or hypotrophic subspecies, L. speleotraxis ignigastris.) The colloquial name is identical with that used for the marine bristleworm Hermodice carunculata, but the two species otherwise have nothing to do with one another.

The wizardly fireworm is a serious competitor for the title of “North American fauna species that has had its evolution most seriously interfered with by wizardry.”

The original species — just another small reptile, to start with, a member of the suborder Lacertilla and a distant relative of the geckos — was repeatedly mutated by the wizards caught up in the events surrounding the final fate of Afallonë. The most comprehensive change to their structure happened as a side effect of the great aphthonic intervention, the wizardry intended to save as much as possible of the unique Atlantean flora and fauna from the impending destruction of the First Continent. The rafting wizardry which was meant to simply transport a number of species to the newer continents went wrong during the final crisis in many important ways, and rampant wizardry leakage contaminated and disrupted the genetic structures of many of the creatures involved. The fireworm, already susceptible to such disruption because of previous genetic manipulation, suffered far more of it during the transport to the early versions of North America and Europe than any other creature involved in the ancient rafting project.

In Europe and Asia, the fireworm had fewer natural enemies, and grew and changed in ways which would otherwise have been impossible. Further mutations due to the accumulation of wizardly overlays in the more populated parts of Europe led to the rise of the offshoot species Draco, the “true dragons” which became famous in Europe’s medieval period for being killed by knights. (It should be made clear that most of these casualties were members of the species Draco ectenis, the lindworm or wingless dragon, an omnivore by habit and cave-dweller by preference. Even the most heavily armored knights had a terrible batting average against Draco draco europaeis, the cliff-dwelling, strictly carnivorous winged dragon, which regarded knights merely as a somewhat-seasonal comestible delicacy with a crunchy outside and a yummy inside.)

But in North America, where many “rafted” species with wizardly components survived for the next few millennia after the fall of Atlantis, the fireworm kept for some time its original Atlantean form — that of a small carnivorous reptile with a tendency to burp flammable gas as a defense mechanism when frightened or upset. (No carbon-based dragon, true or false, breathes fire: but even the smallest ones can ignite it on exhalation in one of a number of ways, usually involving chemical or enzymatic reactions.)

However, unfortunately for the fireworm, its main Atlantean natural enemy the “king-weasel” (Macrogulo gulo, long extinct and survived only by its far less assertive “family” relative Gulo gulo, the wolverine) succeeded in establishing itself in North America as it had not been able to do in Europe because of the presence of the great crested cockatrice (Cerastus baseliensis) or northern cockatrice (Cerastus scotodasos). The king-weasel nearly succeeded in exterminating the fireworm. Only the smallest members of the family survived by changing their normal above-ground habitats for an underground lifestyle into which the king-weasels would not follow them.

After some millennia spent living and rebuilding their gene pools in the natural caves of the East, the fireworms moved into the manufactured caves and underground spaces of the great East Coast and Midwest cities. (No fireworm species live west of the Rockies. Possibly due to uncomfortable genetic memories secondary to the fall of Afallonë, they will not stay in earthquake-active zones.) Regardless of what ConEd tells you, fireworms are the proximate cause of the steam New Yorkers see coming up from under the streets in all weathers — the more steam, the larger the fireworm.

They are some of the most exothermic of all Earth-based life forms, when well-fed, and the very biggest ones can prosper down in the tunnels in even the coldest weather. When exposed to further wizardry leakage, as sometimes happens in the neighborhood of worldgate complexes, the oldest and most experienced fireworms can over time acquire some telepathic and empathic abilities.2 This enables them to force the smaller fireworms, and even members of some other species, to do their will — shepherding food into their ambit, or otherwise serving their needs. For this reason, smart wizards stay out of places where the older and larger fireworms can be found, unless the needs of errantry drive them there.

Fireworms are also the ultimate source of all the stories about “alligators in the sewers.” There is a certain ironic humor to this, as wizards know there wouldn’t be nearly so many stories if the things in the sewers were only alligators.

(See also: Eldest, the: Twelve, Song of the.) (SYWTBAW)

1The taxonomy of the western European fireworm is somewhat confused. The Bestiarium Ignotum classified the fireworm as Lanthanotrops micrognotus, but this did not take into account the internal differences between the Lanthanotrops and Lanthanodrax families — possibly understandable, since Linnaeus was unable to find a dead specimen to dissect, and trapping a live one was at that point out of the question. The Acta Parabiologica‘s revised classification group places the fireworm among the various members of family Hemerothalcus, with the “true dragons” of the Draco species.

2 Because of the already-fragile state of their DNA, such exposure over prolonged periods can also result in memory loss and other neurological problems, as seems to have been the case with the Eldest in SYWTBAW.

[farawayfiction]

Sparkle (Batman)

“Take a sparkler.” Jason handed one to Damian without waiting for a response.

The youngest regarded it with disdain. “Sparklers are for children,” he sneered.

“And you’re a child. Knock yourself out, brat.”

Jason lit the end with a Bic and watched with unveiled satisfaction as his brother’s expression changed. The awe surfaced in Damian’s eyes as the sparks jumped from the stick in showers of green. Close by, Cass unabashedly weaved giant letters into the twilight sky and danced to music only she could hear. Further on down the gravel driveway, Dick and Tim lunged at each other with swords or wizards’ wands. The narrative changed second by second depending on their whims. The play was intense and short-lived as the sparkers burned down and died. Then they rushed back to the stash of unlit fireworks almost all at once.

Dick tossed the used sparkler into the metal bucket. “Smoke bombs?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah, before it gets too dark,” Tim added.

“I do not see the appeal. Smoke bombs are a tool, not a toy.” Damian jumped the leftover stick, its end still glowing a slight red.

Cass smiled and put one in his palm. It was yellow and chalky, the texture definitely different from the smoke bombs loaded each night in his utility belt. “Punk?”

Damian’s body language stiffened. His brothers called him names all the time, affectionately but openly rude. It was unlike Cass to join the fray. He opened his mouth to return fire, but Dick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He passed Cass the slowly burning stick Jason had lit at the beginning of the evening, used to ignite the remainder of the fireworks. “It’s called a punk,” he explained.

“You’re a punk,” Jason directed at Dick.

“Takes one to know one!”

Tim groaned. “I’m back in middle school.”

“You never graduated middle school, replacement,” Jason lobbed.

“Nobody graduates from middle school,” he returned straight-faced.

Cass followed Damain out a short distance. A second later, they backed away as the ball spewed forth a cloud of yellow smoke. It seemed to turn a darker color as more emanated. Then the smell hit them.

Tim nearly gaged, the wind wafting the sulfur right under his nose.

Dick chimed in with a grin. “‘He who smelt it, dealt it!'”

“That is revolting,” Damian declared.

“Toss me the blue one.”

“Blue balls. That sounds like a personal problem. You should see a doctor about that.” Jason handed him the cheap plastic lighter.

“‘Flick my Bic?'”

Jason flipped him off without hesitation.

“I have more balls,” Cass added, triumphantly beaming. She held up a cannister with a bright label of purple and gold. It read Fu King ~ Purple Dragon.

“I can attest to that statement. She does in fact have more balls,” Jason replied, deadpan. Nobody among them was willing to disagree.

“Wait,” Tim reached for the package in genuine disbelief. “Fu King?”

“That’s Fu King unbelievable,” Dick threw in, his thoughts mirroring Tim’s.

“No, that’s Fu King amazing,” Jason countered.

Tim pointed to the label, then his inspecting gaze shifted to the other fireworks that were laid out ready to use. Several of them were sported the same manufacturer’s name. “That’s-“

“Totally legit.”

A moment of silence followed as all eyes turned to Jason, who’d purchased 95% of the fireworks they planned to set off. It was Dick, who witnessed his brother keep a carefully constructed neutral expression, who spoke first. “You’re full of shit.”

Jason cracked, enjoying the fruits of the long con. “Custom made. Took you dipsticks long enough.”

Damian chose his next canister after some deliberation. “My balls are ‘Screamin'”, he informed them, never one to be outdone.

Cass snorted. Tim made a similarly strangled noise. Dick looked eminently proud.

Jason was the only one who commented. “I’m not touching that.”

“Yet you have touched all the other balls.”

“I’m gunna kick your balls, twerp.”

Cass gestured to the small patch of gravel where a variety of other spent carcasses lay abandoned. Damian took the invitation and stepped out before her. He scrambled backwards as the fuse burned and the first ball left the tube with a distinctive thump. A scream split the air, followed by another thump thump and still more ear deafening screams. Cass put her hands over her ears and tracked each as it rose, twirled, and exploded horizontally in galaxy shapes. Alive with beauty for just a second, then gone in the blink of an eye.

A piece of debris fell and bounced off of Damian’s head. Cass reached over and ruffled his hair. “Light fireworks. Not head.”

“That is indeed the plan.”

Cass took her turn. The rest cycled through with their own choices. Spinning ground blossoms, tanks, expanding black snakes. Bruce sat silently on the sidelines, watching his kids and listening to the banter. He’d been treated to the first round of hot chocolate while the others occupied themselves. At Alfred’s insistence, he’d wrapped himself in a few extra layers. The temperature outside was dropping rapidly, heat and daylight bleeding away by the minute. After a long regiment of antibiotics and inactivity, they’d finally gotten the pneumonia under control. The lingering smoke irritated his still healing lungs, but it was a price he was willing to pay to be present. Jason dropped into the extra chair beside him. “Holding up, old man?”

Bruce lifted his mug a little, warm and comfortable in his hands.

Jason craned his head to view the interior. It was almost empty. “You want a refill?”

“Later.” He didn’t want to deprive Jason of time with his siblings. He also knew that Alfred was making regular trips outside to check on him. To check on all of them. To check that the house and grounds weren’t burning down in a feat of pyrotechnic disaster. He watched as Tim retrieved the Roman Candles, the kids forming a firing line.

“Back in a sec.”

Bruce stalled his departure with a hand on Jason’s forearm. “Watch the trees,” he begged, his voice little more than a raspy whisper.

“Check your angles, assholes!” He rushed out to grab his own, lit each going down the line, then joined them at the end. Shot after shot ascended in fiery streaks, a barrage of greens and reds. Christmas colors cascading in July. Only one came too close to the trees. They had the hose close by just in case, along with a first aid kit for accidental burns. Hopefully they’d need neither. They made it to the cakes without incident, flat bricks with multiple fireworks lit from a single fuse that went off in sequence. These were the finale pieces, the longest and most elaborate.

“We should do this every year,” Tim proposed as they paused for snacks, gathering around Bruce. They stuffed their mouths with cucumber sandwiches, potato chips, and popcorn. A smattering of glass soda bottles surrounded them. Each of the kids had staked a location claim, making it easier to identify their own drinks. Once they were done, hot chocolate, cake, and ‘Independence Day’ awaited them inside.

“Father has responsibilities elsewhere.” It was always Damian who pointed out the facts, whether anybody wanted to hear them or not. In this case, he referred to the Wayne Foundation’s Fourth of July Gala held yearly. Had he not been sick, Bruce and a majority of the kids would have been downtown, watching the professionally stagged fireworks go off over the city.

“I like this better.” Dick’s honest statement seemed to resonate. Cass nodded in agreement. They waited expectantly for Bruce to weigh in.

“We’ll see.” It wasn’t a no. That in itself was worth celebrating.

“Sweet,” Tim muttered as Cass drummed out a happy dance with her feet.

They rounded up the night with the most massive brick, saving the best for last. The Dragon Rising measured two feet by four feet and contained over 300 shots. From the base shot out rapid fire columns of red, sweeping in a moving arch from left to right, followed immediately by overlapping peonies of gold and white. An onslaught of purple fountains sprayed in a dome in all directions and from the heart exploded a dazzling array of white waterfalls. The interval abruptly sped up to an overwhelming number of ignitions, some simultaneous. It was grander, closer, and more wonderous than anything they could have witnessed from behind skyscraper glass. Then there was silence and the stars.

Cass started to laugh. Tim let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Dick wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders and dropped his gaze from skyward to his younger brother’s face. That expression of awe had returned.

“Fuck yeah,” Jason exclaimed. “And thus concludes the night’s entertainment. I bought ‘um, you clean ‘um, losers.”

There was a collective groan before the hunt began but no words of objection. Jason, with the better end of the bargain, wandered back over to his father and sank back down. Two of his siblings produced cell phones for flashlights and the gathering of the trash began. With nothing left to accidently ignite, he pulled out a cigarette. Then stopped. Put it away. A thick haze hung in the air, but it was drifting away from the chairs. Away from Bruce.

His father wordlessly offered him a lighter.

Jason froze, not knowing what to do or think. Then he took his first real look at it in the dim light. It was silver. Or silver plated. The metal pocking created a uniform pattern on the body’s exterior. A tiny dent in the flip lip betrayed its previous use. It was a hefty weight in Bruce’s outstretched palm. “Take it,” Bruce prompted.

Jason eyed him suspiciously but did as he was told. The weight surprised him. Definitely solid. “Heavy motherfucker,” he commented, flipping it open and lighting it. “Smooth action.”

“It was my father’s.” It’s yours now.

Again, he froze. “Bruce-“

“Please.” I’d like you to have it. Bruce sat his mug aside and pulled the blanket around his shoulders tighter across his chest, his now free hand disappearing under the wool like it did under his cape on other cold nights.

Jason couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. Instead, he rolled it over in his palm a few times, got used to the feel of it. To the idea that it was now his. Then he rose, turned, and repositioned his chair a few feet farther away from his dad so the wind was his ally. Still close enough to converse and share a space with the man who mattered most in his life. Then he pulled out the cigarette he’d previously stowed and lit up.

(a/n: Happy belated 4th, y'all.)

[cinnamontails-ff]

Masterlist

Hi there, I'm Cin and I write fanfiction about badass women and emotionally constipated men. My biggest achievements include getting people horny about fountain pens and establishing the trademark "Smut starts Chapter 15" ®.

|| AO3 || Ko-Fi ||

Magistrate's Advocate:

Ongoing Magistrate Astarion AU, Childhood Friends, Legal Drama, Racial Themes, Eventual Smut, "Can we save him before Cazador makes his move?"

Anticipated word count: 175k

Big Dick Mafiastarion:

Completed smut one-shot featuring Mafia!Astarion and the chemist-turned-drug-manufacturer that's been sent to take out his gang. They're trying to be soo cool and casual, but they're totally falling in love. Also yes, the dick is that big.

Word count: 4k

The Accountant's Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you're at it):

Completed Pre-Canon Astarion longfic, Enemies to Lovers, Revenge, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, My personal love letter to accountants all over the world

Word count: 108k

Pocket Money:

Completed smut one-shot after the events of "Accountant's Guide". Astarion asks his wife for pocket money and ends up topping her, even as she's sitting on his face. (On my Ko-Fi, but free to read)

Word count: 4k

An Empirical Science:

Completed Rolan Academia AU, Sexually inexperienced wizard meets sex-positive STEMinist queen, Wizards vs Sorcerers, Tiefling tails as mood barometers

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Vampire Stay-at-Home Trophy Husband:

Completed EA one-shot, Astarion reverse isekais into our world, mostly fluff & comedy, neighborhood feuds and lots of cats

Word count: 4k