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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 month

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ash i love vince so much he is my number 2 babygirl (antoni number 1 babygirl forever)

i would like to formally request some vince having a Bad Time, either past stuff with owen or present with recovery being a bitch

because there is nothing better than lovely characters having bad times that they absolutely do not deserve

CW: Alcoholism, withdrawal/cravings, alcoholic anger, Vince and Jameson both PTSD-ing all over the place, guilt

Oh, poor Vince. Takes place post-the Same Bed Arc, after Vince is living with Nat and Jameson.

Vince doesn't even look up when he hears Jameson stop in the doorway. He just pours a few shots worth of the gin into the glass, staring fixedly down at it. The liquid, clear as water but with the herbal scent washing over him like a welcome spring rain, spreads over the ice with those gentle cracks he knows better than his own heartbeat.

God, it looks good.

His hands don't shake, now. His heart doesn't race. He doesn't feel sweaty, or upset, or like he'll be sick.

He just feels like he's staring at the solution to all his problems, and all he has to do is swallow it down.

This should feel awful - he knows it should. It should taste awful, there should be something to remind him of the damage he does to himself every time he drinks again. He should hear his sponsor speaking in the back of his mind, he should hear the voices of the others at the meetings he goes to - one for alcoholism, one for survivors of sexual assault, twice a week there's movie star Vincent goddamn Shield among the normal people and admitting he's barely human, just a wreck that only survived Owen Grant because Nat decided she gave a fuck about him for reasons Vince still doesn't understand.

Here he stands, a hollow shell wearing a nice face who let someone else suffer in his place and was grateful for it for far too long.

Kauri hates him but it's nothing compared to how much he hates himself.

Vince lifts the glass, hesitating at the last second with the cool rim just touching his lower lip. Gin smells like blacking out and right now he could use the blessed darkness, hangover be damned.

He can worry about that when the headache kicks in tomorrow morning.

He realizes he's waiting for the sickening crawl of guilt at letting Nat down, at-... at letting himself down. Maybe that will come later, but right now... He feels goddamn good. Settled. Calm.

He and Jameson meet eyes just as he tosses the drink back, three large swallows of juniper-scented gin down his throat like water, leaving only the ice cubes behind.

The burn is perfect.

He pours himself another drink, feeling the warmth slowly spread through his chest to his shoulders, eyes briefly closing. God, it feels like goddamn heaven.

He looks up.

Jameson is still standing there in the doorway, looking oddly soft in a loose sweater that's far too big for him and a pair of old jeans that probably cost a dollar at a yard sale and even that was too much. Vince has jeans that distressed, somewhere.

His cost more than five hundred dollars.

He chokes on the next drink from trying not to laugh.

Jameson's eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Vince takes another sip, eyes half-closed, letting himself take it slow this time and really enjoy the taste.

He'd honestly been surprised the little liquor store down the block even carried this brand of gin. Not that he wouldn't have bought whatever he could get, when he stood there feeling like he would die if he had to go another day, but still. It's nice to have seen his favorite stuff, top shelf, pricier than it had any right to be. It's not even that good, but it's still his favorite. It still tastes, to him, like the nights he sleeps without nightmares, few and far between.

Gin tastes like those nights he gets to sleep at all.

The cashier had looked surprised as she wiped off the dust and rang it up for him. Then, with a shy smile, she'd asked him if anyone ever told him he looked a lot like Vincent Shield. He'd been kind of sad she didn't card him - it would have been nice to see the look on her face when she saw his name.

Instead, he paid in cash, laughed, and told her the standard I get that a lot, actually.

Jameson doesn't move closer, or leave. "It looks like you're fucking yourself up," He says, lingering in the doorway. "You can't just start drinking again. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I sure as hell can." Vince laughs, but it's a bitter sound. He licks the gin lingering on his lips, then gestures at the bottle. "Have some with me."

He's caught, for just a moment, when he sees Jameson wearing an expression Vince has never seen on him before. He looks... nervous. Afraid, almost, instead of angry.

"I-I don't want to," Jameson says, but there's a way he says it that makes Vince think he'd drink if he offers again. Maybe he wants to, or maybe he just doesn't want to make Vince mad.

If he commanded it, if he gave an order... Jameson would be as he's told, wouldn't he? Damn, that would be some power to have over someone.

This must be why Owen liked it so much.

No.

He won't think about Owen right now.

Vince gulps down liquid until he's breathless, almost panting. The warmth is like the familiar cradle of a softer reality settling in. He makes himself slow down this time, picking up an ice cube and sucking the juniper taste right off it before crunching it with his teeth.

"Vince." Jameson's voice gets harsher, and something seems to break his brief paralysis. He moves closer, grabbing the bottle and pulling it away when Vince puts a hand out to pour the third drink. "Fucking... look at me. What the fuck?"

Vince's hand just... hangs out there, reaching for a bottle that isn't where it was. He stares at the empty space, and feels that dark inside of him threaten to well up yet again. "What?"

Jameson swallows, his eyes moving to the glass, back to Vince's face. He steps backwards, and Vince watches the bottle go with him with a piercing need that could easily knock him off his feet if he weren't holding onto the back of a chair. Jameson clears his throat. "Aren't you... like, sober now?"

"Mmmn. Was. Got the like... three month chip thing and everything." He's gotten thoroughly wasted so many times in his life. Nothing relaxes him better than enough alcohol to force his body to stop living in constant, unending fear of who might hurt him next. "Right now, I am tipsy instead. In about an hour, I'm going to be absolutely fucked up. Give me back my gin."

Jameson's hand moves - then he jerks it back, taking a few steps backwards until he's back in the doorway. His eyes are on Vince's face, watching him with a total focus that Vince recognizes from the others he's worked with over the years - Jameson's just a trained pet, in this moment, watching to see if the master will be angry.

It makes him laugh again, more bitterly this time. Is he the master? Has he ever been his own master, let alone anyone else's?

"I... I can't do that," Jameson says, and Vince hears that he doesn't say no. When Vince moves towards him, he backs up a little more, and Vince comes to a stop just a foot or so away.

"Am... am I scaring you?" He asks, suddenly.

It wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to demand his drink again. Instead, this question that... that just sort of falls out of him like a waterfall.

Jameson's jaw sets and his eyes narrow. "You're not doing shit to me," He snaps, but Vince knows he's really saying yes.

Is this why people buy pets? So they can see something pretend not to be scared, and know they're the monster not just under the bed, but in it?

"Oh," He whispers. "What is it? Why are you scared? I'm just a drunk asshole, why are you scared of me?"

Jameson bristles, but then he offers - as if it's pulled out of him against his will - the softest explanation. "Brute and Robert got drunk all the time. I know what happens when-... when people get this kind of drunk."

There's a look in his eyes Vince has seen before in Kauri's. Not fear of him, not directly, but fear of someone like him, maybe. Fear of having demands made that can't be denied.

Is this how Owen felt, every time Kauri had to playact the loving boyfriend with bruises on his wrists and terror making his heart race? Is this how it feels to have power over somebody else when you can't even control yourself?

It's... it's good, almost.

It feels better than he thought it would.

"Back up, Shield," Jameson hisses, like a cat spitting and arching its back, ready to attack with claws and sharp teeth not because it's confident in victory but because it's so small it has to fight to have even the slightest chance to survive.

Vince looks him over, reading with an actor's expertise how he's projecting a confident swagger he never feels, how the irritation layers itself so carefully over a vulnerability that he sees as weakness. Vince has lived that way, too, since he was twenty-one, since his best friend turned out to be a rapist who wanted Vince to himself, since he started drinking to forget every single night and putting on the perfect face during his days.

They both survived, didn't they?

Jameson just did it by fighting his way out, and Vince by pretending to be someone he wasn't until nobody knew who he actually was, and that's a way of surviving, too. Wear another face, and make sure no one sees the fear in your real one, so they can't refuse to help you... because you've never asked.

"No." At least one of them can say it. Although that makes Vince's heart twist with ugly guilt, the petty cruelty of the thought. "Give me my gin," Vince says, pitching his voice low, and holds out his hand. "Now, Jameson. Give it to me."

"I can't." The strength is gone from Jameson's voice, and he looks at Vince with those dark eyes searching his own, trying to make himself understood. "If you drink, your-... your body's not used to it anymore, if you drink the same amount you'll fucking kill your stupid liver."

"What do you care about my liver?" Vince's voice drops low, almost a whisper. "What do you care about me, about my goddamn joke of a life, huh? What the fuck do you care? Why should anyone care?"

There's a flicker of something in Jameson's eyes - recognition, maybe. Something that lights up, just for a second, before the other man shoves Vince to the side with sudden violent strength and stalks to the sink, turning the bottle over and pouring that expensive artisan gin right down the drain.

"No!" Vince's voice is a ragged shout as he lunges after him, but it's too little too late.

Jameson's foot kicks out and slams into Vince's calf, sending him stumbling, clawing desperately as the gin is gone, glug glug glug, down into the pipes, disappearing towards the ocean.

Rage and terror fight in Vince's mind in a sudden white noise and he gets to his feet, grabbing Jameson by the arms and squeezing as hard as he can, shoving him back across the room. He hears Jameson hit one of the chairs, the clatter of wood and Jameson's grunt of pain as both hit the ground hard. The bottle is in the sink, and even when Vince scrambles to pick it back up, there's less than an inch of gin left.

He sucks it down, and only once he's gotten that final drop does he suddenly go still.

Oh.

There's the guilt and the horror and feeling sick at himself, just... twenty minutes too late. He sets the empty bottle carefully down, and then turns slowly around to look at Jameson.

Jameson sits on the kitchen floor, staring up at him with wide eyes. His face is pale, making the scar that twists the corner of his mouth stand out even more. His hair is nearly grown back in now, the bald patches hidden by the rest.

Vince exhales in a rush. "Oh, hell. Jameson-" He holds out a hand.

Jameson flinches.

Vince pulls his hand back, backing up until his back hits the edge of the sink. "Right. Okay. I'm-... I'm sorry Jameson-"

"Yeah." Jameson's voice is gruff, all the vulnerability and fear wiped away as soon as he realizes it's showing. He gets to his feet, shoulders protectively hunched, arms crossed in front of himself defensively. "Whatever. Sure you are. Drink yourself to death, shitbag, if that's what you want."

"I'm so sorry."

Jameson's jaw works. "... Everybody's always sorry. Then I get fucking hit again." Then he turns and walks - limps, really, his knees threatening to give out with every step - away. Vince stands there, frozen, listening as he makes his slow, painful way up the stairs.

Vince stares at the place he was for a while - he isn't sure how long. The gin is sinking its velvet claws into his mind, and he's drunker than he should be after only two drinks.

But then, it's been months.

Months, he made it without taking even a sip.

He swallows, again and again, and then pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, finds a contact, and presses the button to make the call.

The phone rings until he's certain it'll go to voicemail, before a voice he knows as well as his own is in his ear.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I-I need to talk to you," He stammers, his heart cold. "Please. Please. I-I've been drinking. I need... I need help."

There's a pause.

"From... me?"

"Yeah... yeah. You'll-... I need somebody who won't be nice to me-"

"Oh, well, if there's anything I love it's the chance to be mean to you, let me drop my entire life to come listen to you whine about yours."

"Please."

An exhale. "Whatever. Yeah, okay. I'll be over there in like... half an hour? An hour, maybe. Drink some water and I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't leave the house."

"Thanks... thank you, Kauri."

Kauri hangs up.

Vince pours himself a glass of water over the leftover gin-soaked ice, sipping it, barely flavored with a hint of the liquor he wants so badly. He rights the chair he'd accidentally shoved Jameson into, and listens to the creaking floorboards and muffled cursing above him as Jameson makes his halting painful way from stairway to his room, a couple thumps when he clearly falls and had to force himself back upright, until the pacing abruptly stops when he must have collapsed into his bed.

He hears the gentle patting of Trash Cat's paws as she leaves her place on the living room couch and follows him, too, her soft meowing until Jameson opens his door to let her come in after him. Then silence again.

Vince sits back down at the table, leaning over with his head in his hand, staring as the ice slowly melts, cooling the water around it.

He should have called his sponsor instead.

Whatever Kauri is about to say can only make this worse.

But he deserves it, anyway.

Vince doesn't move a muscle until he hears the sound of Jake's truck pulling into the driveway, crunching briefly over gravel before it's on the pavement again, when he raises his head.

Kauri walks in without knocking, stops in the doorway to the kitchen, and looks at him like his younger self ashamed of what he's grown into. Vince knows Jake must have driven him, but he's nowhere to be seen - maybe just staying outside, for now. He's clearly dressed for bed in a matching navy blue silk button-up and pajama pants, barefoot even.

"Hey," Vince says, weakly. The alcohol feels like poison now, not the soothing warmth it had been before. "I... I fucked up, Kauri."

"Yeah, I can tell just by looking at you, you're a goddamn mess." Kauri looks at Vince head-on, even though it still hurts him to do it, and Vince can see the flinch he suppresses as the headache kicks in. His blue eyes are identical to Vince's in nearly every way, except that Kauri's gaze has always been stronger. "What the hell did you do?"

"I got... I drank."

"Yep. I can see the gin bottle. Did you drink all of it?" Kauri's voice is flat and businesslike. It's like having his own younger self dressing him down, and somehow that feels... really good. Better than he thought it would.

"... No. Just a couple drinks. Jameson poured the rest out."

"Good for him." Kauri flickers a smile. "Where is he?"

"I-... I scared him."

"... you scared him?"

"Yeah. I was-... I wasn't-... I didn't mean to, but-"

"Shut up. All right. Tell me what you did. I'll fix it. This time, taking your place so I suffer for years while you run off and become obscenely wealthy is off the table, got it?"

Vince looks at him in horror only to see a surprising warmth in Kauri's smile. Not... not affection, but something like it. A wry compassion, maybe. Something else he doesn't deserve. "I don't know. I don't know if I can fix this, Kauri. I don't know."

"Well... I happen to the resident expert in trying to avoid dealing with your problems while making them all worse, so talk to me. Tell me what you did, start to finish. We'll figure out what comes next."

Vince lowers his head into his arms.

"Thank you," He says, muffled.

"Not enough thanks in the world, dumbass. Lucky for you I'm an amazing person who just happens to have spent most of my twenties making stupid drunk mistakes. So stop stalling and start talking."

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @autophagay

#whump #ptsd tw #alcholism tw #withdrawal tw #alcoholic whumpee #recovering whumpee #recovery whump #vincent shield is not a hero #erase to control #since kauri makes an appearance #jameson bb #box boy universe #drunk whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #briefly and not on purpose

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 8 months

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*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next

#i marie kondoed my thoughts and *i* feel great. but now my stream-of-consciousness has escaped containment #so many innocent bystanders at stake #every time i try to organize my thoughts i run out of plastic bins and have to make a trip to the container store where i get even more dis #racted so. you can't just hand me THIS brain and NO catalogue OR library classification system #and expect me to single-handedly sort through all this nonsense? bad form but fucking form not in my job description #aNYways. formal education sure did a FUCKING NUMBER on us huh #(a number i measure not in gpa or dollars of student debt.#but in the number of therapy sessions & medical debt it will take to recover.)#seriously folks. our education systems are...innately traumatizing for a huge number of students. and we NEED to address this.#the fact that it is culturally common for adults to have anxiety nightmares about school/exams...even decades later?#that is not cute. it is Alarming.#no one--much less entire generations--should be spending their developmental years in an environment of chronic stress & pressure & strain #and yet that is the reality for millions and millions of pre-teen and teenage and young adult students #this isn't healthy and it serves and empowers NO ONE #...except of course the many exploitative educational & financial & debt-collecting institutions thriving from the current balance of power #and of course it's a nefarious and powerful way to sabotage/erase the middle class #which billionaires and the wealth-inequality creators they finance couldn't possibly have any noteworthy interest in whatsoever #it's not like there's an elite group of people with huge financial incentives to drain/steal resources from the masses...#anyways sorry for going all Conspiracy Theory on you.#obviously the billionaires who control the vast majority of our resources and news and political campaign funding #are not tied to every single itty bitty social issue and i'm a silly billy to imply it #please tell elon musk to ignore this tweet i am so subservient and acquiescent #mr musky u r so good at inheriting slavery-built mining fortunes & buying other people's companies #& building rocket ships & fancy cars that do NOT explode/catch fire & also NOT running billion dollar companies into the ground #mr musky u r so talented genius billionaire playboy with 10 kids and ex-wives who find you creepy af babe u r basically iron man

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jammed-out · 9 months

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(CW: Trance Inducing Language using repetition, mental imagery, and pleasure. No awakener.)

You couldn't remember how you got here. Everything was so dark and you couldn't move. You could feel something tight trapping your ankles and wrists in place. Your head had something heavy on it and no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, it wouldn't budge. And there was something inside of you, filling you, that you couldn't push out. You wanted to scream or cry for help, but there was something in your mouth, filling it entirely, keeping you from doing anything but groaning.

Beginning Mind Melt Procedure...

Your senses were blasted as a bright pink light filled your vision. Your eyes burned and you tried to close them to look away. You could see the pink light flashing, even behind your eyelids. The pulse wasn't rhythmic. It was random. It hurt your head even with your eyes closed. And then there was the sound. This white noise humming, but beneath it was a pulse, like a heart beat, thudding in your ears. Then there were hundreds of voices, at least that's what it sounded like, moaning and saying such perverse things. They all blended together and you could barely make out one without the other voices cutting it off a moment later. Your eyes opened, burning, immediately hit with the flashing pink light. Beneath it you realized there were pictures of people being fucked in all sorts of positions. They only lasted a second before the light blinded them out, making them disappear into the next. It didn't take long for it to start to work its way into your head. First the moans hit and you found a pattern to it, moaning yourself whenever it came around. Then there was this one image, a girl surrounded by dicks, you always caught eye of it when it popped up. Then it was the word "melt" it kept repeating in your ears, just slightly louder than everything else. You tried to struggle for a while, but soon it felt better to just try and focus on what they were saying. At least if you knew what you were dealing with you could fight it.

Mind Melt Successful. Beginning Mantra Training...

The pulsing slowed as the light slowly bent inward, spinning in on itself. You knew what this was, it was a spiral, you'd seen them before online. You found your gaze drawn to the pink light, letting it pull you down with it. Every time your vision got close to the center, you felt it slide back out, caught in another strand of pink as it pulled you back down to the center.

"Repeat after me. Letting go feels good. Letting go feels nice. I just need to relax and let go."

The words echoed in your ears, pulling your focus away from the spiral slightly.

"Repeat after me. Letting go feels good. Letting go feels nice. I just need to relax and let go."

You tried to focus on them, but after each phrase you felt yourself moan. You tried to stop yourself, but some part of you was still trapped to matching the moan from before. You had to change that. You mumbled around the gag, the new words slowly pushing their way out of your mouth, mixing with the moans. The more you said it, the more you found moaning after each phrase felt good.

"Repeat after me. Letting go feels good. Letting go feels nice. I just need to relax and let go."

You realized that the spiral pulled you down the perfect amount with each time you repeated the phrase. Falling back out to the top in perfect sync to start over. It was addicting and you were finding it hard to stop now that you understood the pattern. You just had to fight to keep it up.

"Repeat after me. Letting go feels good. Letting go feels nice. I just need to relax and let go."

Mantra Training Successful. Installing Identity Corruption...

"Letting go of your mind feels good. Letting go of your body feels nice. Give in to the pleasure and let go."

You felt the thing inside of you start to pulse, vibrating slowly at first before ramping up just in time with the spiral. It fell back down to the low setting, slowly climbing again. It felt good, but not good enough, just keeping you on the edge of pleasure.

"Letting go of your mind feels good. Letting go of your body feels nice. Give in to the pleasure and let go."

You found yourself repeating the words, mumbling through your gag. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you attempted to grind back against the thing inside of you, trying to get more pleasure out of it. Drool dripped off of your gag falling onto your chest.

"Letting go of your mind feels good. Letting go of your body feels nice. Give in to the pleasure and let go."

It was getting harder to think now, not that you wanted to think anyways. Letting go of your mind felt too good. And you realized it was getting harder to move your hips or hold your head up, not that you wanted to anyways. Letting go of your body felt to nice. You just wanted to sink down into the spiral and give into the pleasure and let go.

Corruption Complete. Reward...

You felt the vibrations pick up, your body shaking as the spiral flashed one word over and over.

"Cum."

It echoed in your ears everytime it flashed in front of your eyes.

"Cum."

You felt it pulse inside of your empty head with each call of the word.

"Cum."

You felt it pulse inside of your empty body with each time the vibrator pulsed.

"Cum."

You found these words to be true, echoing in every part of you. The only thing you'd ever known in your life.

"Cum."

You came screaming around the gag. Your body ached, arching as you squirted all over yourself. You trembled, aching in need for more. You needed more of this pleasure. Even wrapped in it you wanted more, needed more. Your head collapsed into your chest as you mumbled over and over the word cum, trapped in an endless feedback loop of pleasure.

Beginning Advanced Training. Initialize Full Mental Wipe...

#brainwashing #hypnotism #hypnosis #mind conditioning #mind control #my writings #personality erasure #forced hypnosis #forced brainwashing #corruption #mind corruption #corruption kink #mind eraser

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latinoperce · 3 months

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rick riordan you became the thing you swore so much to destroy. why change some of these things in the show??? the thing im most angry about is that the changes are either purely nonsensical or just done poorly

theyve completely eliminated the books sense of urgency, like theres no stakes on anything. you can miss the deadline and everythings fixed with a little talk with zeus. you recognize medusa and crusty and the lotus hotel right out of the gate, and obviously the only conclusion is that kronos is behind everything even though hes supposed to be locked in the deepest part of tartarus and youre a 12yo who just got thrown into this life and is just learning that monsters are real. fights are over in 30 seconds and theres no injuries or consequences except for an off screen comment on how you lost your bag or maybe a new stain on your shirt. theyre 12 but also they know everything there is to know about the greek myths.

in the books they learn and realize things as they go! its the experiences that change percy and grover and annabeth and things are supposed to be HARD because theyre kids!!! and they were sent on a mission they shouldnt have been sent on, but they get through it with each other and with a sense of comedy because theyre fucking kids! yea theyre gonna almost die and then say hello to gladiola the pink poodle, and play hacky sack on the bus stop, and stuff themselves with cheeseburgers every chance they get bc kids arent supposed all knowing and mature all the time

you cant promise a faithful adaptation of a book and then change the basic things that made the book be loved in the first place

#i could complain even more and i will tbh #i can still complain more abt the tone of the show and the pacing before even getting started on the characters themselves #like rick fell into the stereotypes he obviously was trying to destroy #annabeth became an all mature girl who knows everything and had her kid traits basically erased #percy now knows everything too to show hes not as dumb as ppl say he is #and grover is divided in this weird amalgamation of comedic relief and manipulation mastermind to do exactly what?#everythings been sanitized to all hell and all violence has to be shown in a controled setting that erases any actual evidence of it #rr crit #pjo show crit #pjo tv show #pjo tv series #pjo tv crit #pjo #rant

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nyoomsamurai · 5 months

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fell back into my love of epithet erased and of course i got obsessed with percy again <3

#epithet erased #percival king #percy #doodle #except it spiraled out of control #help.

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curioscurio · 4 months

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what if I told you johnlock was real in 2024

#artofcassafrass #this is the only holmes im like ok with that ive drawn #his face is so . frustrating to draw in perspective #watson is easier and as much as i reflexively give him a curly mustache its just not working for me #its because i have no self control and always over curl it and make him look fuckin GOOFY #so i draw the curl then erase and thats kind of the shape #to me watson holds his emotions in his nose and mouth when angry or frustrated. the motion is like puckered inbetween his eyes #for holmes its all like a horizontal line across the brow #from his browline and downwards is where the pull of his face goes.#also when acd was describing holmes in The boscombe valley mystery or whatever . i tried to speed sketch holmes #but it made me laugh and i couldnt finish #mans was on a MISSION

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electricparchment · 1 year

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power duo ⚡️

+ the humble origins of this painting

references are screenshots by the great @sunsetagain

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things-stronger-than-fear · 5 months

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can we talk about the katniss/lucy gray parallels (or lack thereof) for a sec?

they're superficially the same, because of the things we talk about all the time: they're both female victors from 12. there are things that come with that culture and background -- the mockingjay, the plants, the songs. those similarities aren't so much between them as people, as individuals -- they're born of coming from the same culture. the most significant thing they share is their resilience; their spirit of resistance and rebellion. their defiance.

but really, all those things they share, only serve to demonstrate just how different they are as individuals (because personality is different from upbringing or values).

we parallel their sarcastic bows, but they're so so different. lucy gray is a performer mockingly curtseying and saying "kiss my ass", where katniss is a hunter who doesn't have time for this society bullcrap.

they both sing the hanging tree, but as i've ranted about, their renditions show how different they are: lucy gray, again, a performer with a spirit unbroken, loud and charming and sassing right to the capitol's face, daring them to defy her, daring them to look away. katniss, again, a hunter, quiet but unyielding, sparking rebellion under the capitol's nose.

they both won their games, but in such different ways. lucy gray charmed the snakes (both literal and in the form of one coriolanus snow), while katniss threw down with weaponry.

lucy gray said look at me, care about me. katniss said fight for me, fight with me.

and so what we see is that they are not at all the same person, but that's what's so important. because it's not just one person or one type of person that puts their foot down and rebels. we don't need a specific kind of Chosen One to light the spark -- anyone can.

#seriously. why am i so invested.#I DON'T EVEN GO HERE #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #katniss everdeen #thg meta #anyways i do believe somewhere in the multiverse there's a timeline where lucy gray /does/ spark the rebellion #(in a deeper and more immediate way)#like. look at the way the capitol had to erase her. (and not just because snow was a salty scorned ex.)#there's a universe where she's too popular for the records to really be erased. where she becomes a celebrity and #gains a platform and a network and /access/. where she flexes those snake-charming skills on the capitol.#there's a universe where she sways coryo a little more thoroughly. where she's ripped from him by the capitol #and it radicalizes him. doesn't make him a good person or less of a ruthless player in the game. but one with different goals.#there's a universe where she doesn't have coryo there to cheat for her. in that one she can't hold the snakes off forever.#she dies in the arena. there is no victor and no hope. there is nothing but love for a girl who should've survived.#in this universe the people revolt because the capitol has grown to love her and the districts see nothing to lose.#there's a universe where she survives and gains the respect of all the academy students. children are the future.#this is how the capitol loses control.#there's a universe where lucy gray sticks around in 12 past the music ban. in this universe she'll write quiet songs of rebellion.#she'll run. not out of panem but within it. she will be a singing ghost starting fires throughout a country fractured.#ANYWAYS. I WILL STOP.

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starsha-stardust · 5 months

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Magnifico simps who act like he was a good guy who only became evil after using the book concern me. He was a piece of shh long before then.

#He was a controlling narcissist with a savior complex #That scene with Asha at the ceremony was psychologically sadistic #Him being paranoid or manic doesn't erase that #I love that he had layers to him #But he was not a good guy at any point in the actual movie #Wish #Wish Disney #Wish 2023 #king magnifico #Disney villain #Wish movie

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cult-of-the-eye · 21 days

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If Alice Dyer turned out to be a villain in tmagp she would be an absolutely iconic villain in that we would not stop rooting for her, cause she'd be the type of villain who we could completely understand. We get why she does what she does and it just happens to go against what the protagonist (Sam) wants.

#It could be she's trying to get rid of any trace of the Magnus Institute #to protect Sam and any others it hurt #but Sam needs it to process what happened #and erasing it just makes it worse #and so she takes it a little too far #in her control and manipulation #but we see her fear and love for sam underneath it all #and can't help but love her for it #also it would be such an amazing exes to friends to enemies dynamic #tmagp #the magnus protocol #alice dyer #sam khalid #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #tmagp thoughts

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thequeenofmyownscreen · 10 months

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Something that struck me when Marisha was describing Laudna's thoughts as she held Bor'Dor, and was the one who could decide between life and death (since he had already failed 2 death saving throws) :

"Laudna is barely present right now. The only thing that is flashing through her head is Bor’Dor’s words about knowing true pain. That look of someone who knows true pain.

It's as if her life was flashing before her eyes, but it’s all of the trauma that she’s experiencing between losing Imogen, and the solstice, and losing her friends, and watching so many people die, and then being hung on the tree. Death upon death upon death.

Feeling so helpless and so out of control, here recently. In this moment, she has control. She has regained a sense of control and nothing is going to stand in her way."

Laudna has flashes of the violence brought upon her, before the adventure (her first death hanging at the Sun Tree), and the trauma of the battle of the solstice, losing Imogen, etc. BUT she didn't reference AT ALL her second death, at the hands of Otohan Thull, the very leader of the Ruby Vanguard Bor'Dor aligned with.

This isn't vengeance for being killed. It's punishment for the broken trust and to attempt to stop the general cycle of violence brought upon Bell's Hells.

#i will directly contradict myself and precise that I think it's still linked with her 2nd death (but more subtly)#Laudna described in this instant a feeling or regaining control...#control that she lost when she was killed by Otohan as a ploy to make Imogen come out and erase half a block with her mind #critical role #cr spoilers #cr campaign 3 #CR3E63

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 months

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I know you have little time on your hands for writing atm but I might just sneak in here anyways to give input. Who knows maybe you have time some day :D

I remember you posting about this Au where Chris won‘t get saved and Branch throws him on the street when he‘s "too old" and Chris encounters Kauri and he brings him to Jake and it‘s much harder to recover from there on.

Can‘t stop thinking about it it made me so sad!

Maybe you can write a piece about them meeting this way sometime when you feel like it 👉👈🥺

CW: Aftermath of spice, some dubcon implications, brief internalized ableism, drug use

Kauri wakes in a pile of bodies, briefly content simply knowing that if anything is the opposite of being alone, it's this. He still aches in all the right places from last night, and stretches his arms above his head, arching his back. His eyes are closed.

Someone next to him mumbles and rolls over, rolls away. Mourning the loss of even one point of contact, Kauri sighs and sits up. His head hurts, but that's normal on a Sunday morning, especially when his Saturday nights had been so fun. Sober now, he knows it's time to dress and disappear into the daylight, off to find the next drink, the next pill, whatever will soothe the way even now, he feels hollow.

He makes it to the door before he realizes he isn't the only person awake this early.

A flash of blue is slipping out ahead of him, hunched over in clothes too big for his frame. The man's profile is oddly delicate, strikingly beautiful.

Kauri had a hazy knowledge of someone with blue hair the night before, his back against someone's shoulder, another man between his legs. Or had it been the other way around, had he been between some man's legs...? It's hard to remember details. Kauri had been between two men himself, never the same two men twice.

Man, last night was fun.

Still, yeah, he remembers the hair. And a vague recollection of a sweet smile and soft pleading. The way his hips had rolled riding someone, hands splayed out on a sweat-soaked chest, biting his lower lip with his eyes closed. Making noise like it was forced out of him, but it'd been... yeah.

It'd been a performance.

Kauri had figured he was probably a hooker called in for the fun, but... now he wonders.

Hookers don't stay overnight.

"Hey," He calls out, and hurries to catch him. "Hey, wait up." He grabs the man by his arm. "Wait-"

The man goes still. He's short, skinny, swimming in these clothes. His hair's dirty and dull with copper roots showing through. But he turns to look back, and his irises - at least what Kauri can see of them around the dilated pupils - are the brightest green that Kauri has ever seen.

He's also clearly still high. Or maybe high again.

He has pale freckles in a scatter across his cheeks and his nose. Kauri wonders if you could play connect-the-dots with them, make something, maybe just a constellation.

"... what?" The word leaves the man slowly, like he has to consciously think about it first. "They... they said I could... have more before I left. I... didn't steal." He hesitates. "Did I?"

There's a scar over one cheek, somebody cut him with a knife. Not too bad - just for show. Just to make the scar.

Kauri swallows, and puts on his brightest, friendliest smile. "No, no, you didn't. And even if you did, I wouldn't say anything to anybody. But, just. I didn't get to say much to you last night. We were busy, right?" He winks.

"No." The man's gaze never meets Kauri's own - it dances, shifts from looking past his left shoulder to somewhere over his head, down to the right. Eye contact comes in brief flickers, as if he can barely stand it. He smiles, but it isn't real. It's false and faint. "Busy... last night. Having fun."

"Yeah, uh, it was a good time."

The man hesitates. Then he turns away again, pulling himself free of Kauri's grip, rubbing at the place where Kauri's hand had been nervously. "Good," He murmurs, as if reminding himself. "A good time. I had... a good time. I w, wanted-... I wanted... this. Always..." He trails off.

Then he starts walking, as if he's forgotten Kauri was even there.

"Want this," He's muttering. He sways from side to side as he walks, then stops, then starts again. His hands rub constantly, compelled, against the seams of his jacket.

Kauri's intuition prickles like a physical touch to the back of his neck, the weight of a shock collar, and he moves fast to catch up. "Hey, uh, are you-... um... let me buy you some breakfast, yeah? I got, like, forty bucks to my name. That'll get us some food. You look like you could stand to eat more."

The man pauses, briefly, looking over in Kauri's general direction. His hands bury themselves into his pockets and he hunches himself so much he seems inches shorter than he really is. "... okay. You, um. Want, want-..." He winces. "Wait. Silence is better than stammering, silence is better than stammering," He whispers, a recitation, and Kauri swallows as his spine chills from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back, all at once.

He's heard that chant before.

"... you're one of us," Kauri says, and it isn't a question. As soon as the other man tenses, he has his wrist up, looking side to side to make sure they're alone before he snaps open the leather bracelet and shows his barcode.

The man goes very still. Green eyes wander over the sight, and then he pulls his sleeve up to show his own. "WRU, Facility 001, Romantic 223499."

It's irresistible. Kauri hears another pet give theirs, he has to give his, too. He can all but feel his handler breathing down his neck waiting for it. "Right. Facility 001, Romantic 645898. But, uh. I'm Kauri." He tries for his bright smile again, but the other man doesn't return it. "What's your name? What do people call you?"

The man swallows. Then, he offers quietly, "My Sir... called me Baldur."

#AU #erase to control #chris the strawberry blond romantic #whump #referenced dubcon #internalized ableism tw #runaway whumpees #drug use tw

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