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xxlittle0birdxx · 5 months

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WIP: Turning Point

‘You can’t use your own data cylinders,’ Kanan said.

‘I know.’ Alexsandr dialed back his irritation, and just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. He hadn’t risen to his current rank in the ISB because he was an idiot. In order to succeed as a double agent, he had remain above suspicion or reproach.

‘How are your hands?’ Kanan lifted both of his and wiggled his fingers. ‘Ever had to pick pockets? You could use someone else’s to throw suspicion on them.’

‘I can teach you a few moves,’ Ezra offered. He buffed his nails on the front of his jacket. ‘I’ve got a few skills, if I say so myself.’ He gave Alexsandr a smug grin, pointing at him with finger guns. ‘And I do say so.’

Alexsandr grunted noncommittally, then brushed past Ezra to toss his empty bottle into the reclamator. He lingered over filling a cup with caf, then turned and propped a hip against the counter, studying Ezra over the rim of his cup. ‘You seem to be missing something,’ he remarked, nearly yawning with apparent boredom.

‘Missing what?’ Ezra’s brows knit as he began to pat his torso. Blaster, holster, utility belt. All where they were supposed to be. His hand closed over the empty air at his right hip.

‘I believe this belongs to you.’ Alexsandr held out a hand. Balanced across his palm was the boy’s lightsaber. Kanan snorted with aborted laughter, and quickly turned it into a spate of coughing.

‘What?’ Ezra spluttered. ‘How…?’

Alexsandr allowed one side of his mouth to curl up. ‘You aren’t the only street rat onboard.’ He picked up Ezra’s lax hand and slapped the lightsaber into it. ‘Coruscant Sector 42SE, Level Two, at your service.’ He fired off a sardonic two-fingered salute.

Zeb snickered and slapped Ezra on the back. ‘Well? Any pointers, oh master of pickpockets?’

Ezra, red-faced, clipped his lightsaber back onto his belt with a little more force than necessary. ‘You should practice on someone wearing an Imperial uniform,’ he muttered.

‘That’s a really good idea. I think there’s one in the storage cupboard that ought to fit you,’ Sabine mused.

‘Wait, why do I have to —?’

‘Because you won’t take it easy on him. And you know all the tricks of the trade, so he’ll have to work harder and smarter to get by you,’ Kanan explained, mustering much more patience than Alexsandr would have.

‘I will, of course, appreciate your expertise.’ Knowledge was knowledge, as far as Alexsandr was concerned. He never dismissed an information source out of hand, simply because it happened to come from a fifteen year old.

Ezra just managed to not scoff with an expletive under his breath. A sudden gleam came into them when a sly grin crossed his face and he gestured at Kanan and Rex. ‘Fine. But you have to practice with them.’

Kanan’s elbow slipped off the edge of the table. ‘Wait, what?’

Ezra deliberately stood next to Alexsandr. ‘C’mon, Kanan. When have you ever seen an Imp as scrawny as me?’

Zeb wheezed with muffled laughter, face buried in his arms.

#alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #garazeb orrelios #zeb orrelios #zeb calls him alex #eventual Kalluzeb #kalluzeb #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #sabine wren #star wars rebels #au star wars rebels #star wars rebels au #star wars rebels fic #post s02e17:the honorable ones #rebel kallus #fulcrum #pickpocket #work in progress

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v-o-i-d · 1 year

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#Daniel Arnold #Pickpocket #Elara Press #terrain #david rudnick #emiel penninckx #maharani yasmine putri #mozes mosuse #2021

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ayyy-imma-ninja · 6 months

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Also, What is the most random/valuable thing that either of the two boys have pickpocketed?

Oh Moon's pickpocketed all sorts of things, mostly from the snobby rich who wouldn't know what to do with their wealth anyway.

He's stolen brooches, coin purses, pocket watches, jewelry. Anything shiny and of value. They had to make a living too.

Sun always nagged and scolded him for it.

Moon is still as skilled at pickpocketing now as he was before becoming a guard.

#answered ask #royal guard!au #royal guard!sun #rg!sun #royal guard!moon #rg!moon #fnaf dca au #fnaf sun and moon #old body #the sun and the moon #royal guard!au lore #pickpocket

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theoutcastrogue · 4 months

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The Port & the City

Buenos Aires, photo by lasgalletas (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)

Introduction

City of witches and of asphalt, port with no exit to the sea! — La Portuaria, from the port of Buenos Aires

Some cities have a port, and some port cities have a port culture. That's how I call it, anyway. It's a very special thing. It's created by the furious economic activity that concentrates around the coming and going of ships, cargo, and people. A port needs to cater to all of that, the ships and the cargo, the shipowner and the dockworker, the captain and the deckhand, the tourist and the sailor and the fisherman. And that transforms the entire city.

Where a port city meets the sea, there's shipping companies, travel agencies, imports/exports, truck companies, posh hotels, shitty hotels, fancy bars, seedy bars, brothels, strip clubs, theatres, restaurants, casinos, bookshops, tool shops, souvenir shops, fishing supplies, and fresh fish. There's peddlers and businessmen, porters and accountants, all sorts of people, and they all mingle. They have to! The port's there!

Port cities have their own landmarks and geography, with docks, wharfs, piers, depots, gates, shipyards, and people can orient themselves by relation to the water.

New York City, photo by Kari Nousiainen (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)

Crime

My gold watch and my pocketbook and lady friend were gone And there was I, Jack all alone, stark naked in the room — the port of New York City

Port cities attract furious criminal activity. Firstly and obviously, everything that's smuggled will be smuggled through here, from cocaine to counterfeit handbags to guns to oil. (I mean crude/refined oil, though with the prices we've seen lately, olive oil is equally plausible.) Port authorities, customs, shipowners and workers, all can have a hand in the pie, a little finger or both hands shoulder-deep, depending on how high up the ladder they are.

Second, ports are always full of newcomers, sailors and passengers, and all newcomers are potential marks. Con artists, scammers, and grifters of all sorts can ply their trade here. There's also a lot of shilling for more or less legitimate businesses (come buy this, sir! rent a room here, ma'am! oh but you must have a drink there, buddy!), and peddling less then legitimate goods (may I interest you in a fine watch? Rayban glasses, I have Rayban glasses! 100% genuine!). And then there's good old pickpocketing. Although in most cases, pickpockets are not allowed to operate within the port itself: it's bad for everyone else's business, and unlike cops, "everyone else" can actually enforce that.

And third, there's the entertainment sector: the trifecta of night life, sex work, and gambling, all going hand in hand with the sale and consumption of drugs and booze. Expect the port city to be much more entangled in all that than other cities, and the port itself to attract the bulk of it, or the worst of it. Things that are theoretically illegal might be tolerated here, things that are heavily regulated elsehwhere might follow their own rules here, and things that are otherwise unheard of can be found here. What are you into? Step right up but beware: the large print giveth and the small print taketh away.

The upshot of all this is that people in the port's vicinity (not the whole city, though) are more likely to be involved, or at least personally know someone who's involved, in profoundly shady and/or illegal business. And that certainly affects the culture. Breaking the law is more "eh" than "oh my!".

Clydebuilt Museum, photo by Paisley Scotland (Creative Commons CC BY 2.0)

Politics

All my life I've lived beside the waters that they call the Clyde I build the ships and watch them glide down the Broomielaw, sir Trudge to work in sleet and rain, labour for another's gain know yer place and don't complain, that's the rich man's law, sir — Alistair Hulett, from the shipyards of Glasgow

A port displays furious political activity. Unions are strong here, because labour is not only working, it's working hard, manually, in the same spaces (so they can talk about it!), and facing the same dangers to life and limb. Working on the docks, handling cargo containers, and ship-building and maintenance are very hazardous jobs (scrapping even more so, I'd say dramatically so), and under these conditions, it's easier to spot the enemy. Not automatic though. Port cities are traditionally, but not unconditionally, strongholds of the left.

Today, it's extremely important for the left to take the ports, because if it doesn't the fascists will. The workforce here has significant ethnic diversity, coming both from inland (immigrants and local minorities) and from the sea (sailors who go around the world sometimes end up working in random ports). So basically, this either goes "proletarians of the world unite" or "foreigners are stealing our jobs", no middle ground.

By the way, if all your knowledge about port unions comes from The Wire, or worse (for our older readers) from On the Waterfront, please be aware that these are slanted depictions, and you don't actually know anything. [They're not equally slanted, The Wire is nowhere near the other one's level of shameless propaganda, nor so completely divorced from reality. I mean yes, unions can be involved in shady business; so can literally everyone else in the port. But On the Waterfront, without the slightest exaggeration, is to American organised labour what Birth of a Nation is to Black Americans.]

Valparaíso, photo by [o] Rolando Vejar (Creative Commons CC BY-SA 2.0)

Culture

Amo el amor de los marineros que besan y se van. Dejan una promesa. No vuelven nunca más. — Pablo Neruda, from the port of Valparaíso

The port's culture seeps through the rest of the city. This is where sailor lore gets created and spread, and a port by definition loves travel and the ocean. Many non-sailors fall for it hook, line and sinker, and write poems and sing songs and their heart swells at the mere thought of sailing. But their fascination is often rose-tinted, whereas people who make a living from the sea typically have a love/hate relationship with it.

Maiden voyages are important occasions in shipbulding ports. A ship's last voyage, before it goes to scrap, is also memorable. If the ship regularly docks there, it will be the talk of the town, and if it's a passenger ship [this assumes a geography with regular passenger runs], a whole mess of people will be sharing stories and memories, waving it farewell, shouting, applauding, crying a little. It can get very emotional.

There's also a silly sort of localism/professional pride going on, where even the port's accountants, who've never set foot below decks IF they've actually boarded a ship, feel like they're a different species of accountant, inexplicably tougher and saltier than their more, er, inland colleagues. No matter who you are and what you do, it's badge of honour to say you're from and/or work at the port, like you're automatically endowed with tenacity and street smarts. It doesn't make sense, but there you have it.

Rotterdam, photo by MaxAmy Photography (Creative Commons CC BY-ND 2.0)

Desire

In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who dies Full of beer, full of cries, in a drunken town fight In the port of Amsterdam there's a sailor who's born On a hot muggy morn by the dawn's early light — Jacques Brel (in David Bowie's adaptation), from the port of Amsterdam

A port is filthy, grubby, and hopelessly romantic. If it faces somewhat west, it's on fire every sunset. Silhouettes of gigantic cranes are framed by red clouds like alien tripods. The sun sinks into the ocean, and tell me, in the whole wide earth, is there a sweeter sight? Ships approach like sea beasts, and dock in their usual place like old friends.

A port carries the whiff of grease and petrol, the cool sea breeze, and the incessant sounds of waves and engines and – most of all – people. A port IS people, passing. And tell me, in the whole wide world, is there anything more exciting and heartwrenching than people passing? A port city can fill you with wanderlust and feel like a prison, or a warm welcome, or a devastating farewell.

And if you point a gun to my head and force me to describe a port in a single word, I'll have to say: desire.

Love me, leave me, hold me tight, walk away, forget. Look at how I broke inside, and how the sea has swelled! It's pouring out a riot of colours, scents, and lights, and in the city's gutter it's building paradise. — Ξύλινα Σπαθιά, from the port of Thessaloniki

Thessaloniki, photo by Arend Kuester (Creative Commons CC BY-NC 2.0)

La Portuaria - Un dia cualquiera (El bar de la calle Rodney) | the port of Buenos Aires

Ξύλινα Σπαθιά - Ρόδες | the port of Thessaloniki

Tom Waits - Step right up

Finbar Furey - New York City girls | the port of New York

The Dubliners - Go to sea no more | the port of Liverpool

Alistair Hulett - The Old Divide and Rule | the shipyards of Glasgow

The Dreadnoughts - Roll Northumbria | the shipyards of Tyne

The Longest Johns - Fire & flame | the port of Halifax

Maria del Mar Bonet - Merhaba | the ports of the Mediterranean

Cesária Évora - Mar de canal | the port of Mindelo

Susana Baca - Los marineros | the port of Valparaíso

Παντελής Θαλασσινός - Άσπρο καΐκι στη Νέα Πέραμο | the little port of Nea Peramos

Jacques Brel - Amsterdam | the port of Amsterdam

Social Waste - Kasbah | the port of Algiers

Πάνος Κατσιμίχας - Ο πιλότος Νάγκελ | the port of Colombo, so far from Lofoten

Ξύλινα Σπαθιά - Φωτιά στο λιμάνι | the port of Thessaloniki

#the city speaks #theory #trs #the ramblin' rover #pirate #booze #booze et al #no tears for the creatures of the night #smuggler #pickpocket #mixtape #prison ballads #ONE of these days I'll learn to be concise I swear #also I ain't translating Naruda to english #the Rogue's school of translation gives exactly zero fucks #but there's a limit #look it up it's called ''Farewell''#also I didn't include a planned section on immigration #because I got too fucking upset to write words

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hijx · 10 months

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ATTENZIONE PICKPOCKET!

Rewatching the Golden Gays and Buccellati mothering ++ can’t take this tiktok sound off my head which perfectly fits them

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shihlun · 1 year

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Jean-Luc Godard

- Éloge de l'amour

2001

#jean luc godard #eloge de l'amour #Éloge de l'amour #in praise of love #2001 #french film #robert bresson #pickpocket #the pickpocket #simone weil

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thatwhichdoesnotsuffer · 4 months

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“When a pickpocket meets a saint, all he sees are his pockets.”

Sufi Proverb

#spirituality #perspective #saint #pickpocket #sufi #sufism #proverb #sufi proverb

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dionysian-sadness · 15 days

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Au Hasard Balthazar (1966)-Robert Bresson.

Pickpocket (1959)-Robert Bresson.

#Au Hasard Balthazar #Pickpocket #robert bresson

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tippenfunkaport · 11 months

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Pickpocket AU

Short Version: I took Res's Glitra pickpocket idea and made it needlessly complicated

Long version:

So, previously on Tumblr, @resflower posted a short fic where Catra and Glimmer were fortune tellers who picked Bow's pocket. And I suggested that it would be funny if they thought they were picking his pocket but really he had picked theirs (given we see him do sleight of hand card tricks in canon). People enjoyed this idea and were like, "Write it!" but I never came up with a completel enough idea to feel like I had anything to post, just a few small scenes.

But here is what I have so far just for a taste. As is my brand, I have made it needlessly complicated.

Magic is thought to be extinct. That's the official line from the cities but people like Catra who live on the fringes of society know that's not true, it's just that anyone who shows any sign of having magic mysteriously disappears. Catra runs into Glimmer when she tries to rob her and decides to partner up with her for a big job… not so much because she needs a partner (she actually prefers to work alone) but because she's become an expert at sniffing out magic and she can tell that Glimmer has it and is trying to hide the fact that she does.

The two of them recently stole the moonstone, a relic of a necklace, long thought to be a myth. Now they are traveling to the edge of the city to the lawless wilds beyond where Catra has a buyer for the moonstone-- but what Glimmer doesn't know is she has a buyer for Glimmer too. Except the longer they travel together, the more she's starting to like the girl and not sure that she wants to turn her in after all. She doesn't know exactly what happens to people with magic but it doesn't seem like anything good and she's starting to feel a little protective of Glimmer.

They run an assortment of scams on their way across the country to make enough money for the journey and in one town they do their routine, Glimmer picking an easy mark in a young man (Bow) who's so innocent and trusting she almost feels bad about fleecing him. At least, she feels bad until she realizes that the innocence was an act and he swiped the moonstone.

Catra figures out he's a scholar in the city by his dress. Glimmer wants blood and Catra just wants their loot back so the two of them hatch a plan to infiltrate the Academy during the masquerade party on the coming night.

Meanwhile, Bow sneaks back into the Academy through his buddy Adora's room. Adora is soldier class and works as the personal body guard for Shadow Weaver, who leads the city (pretend I have given her some cool title). It's a boring gig because Shadow Weaver is barely around which gives her time to make friends like Bow. Bow himself is scholar class which is one of the highest classes there is because they are studying the nature of the darkness outside the city that kills everything it touches, but hates it. Instead he dabbles in the forbidden scientific arts, trying to find another way to keep the cities safe (because the secret the common people don't know is that the way Shadow Weaver keeps the city safe now is by draining anyone with magic she finds, effectively killing them and leaving them lifeless husks).

Bow's developed a device that can track magic and used it to trace down a device of tremendous power (the moonstone). He risked sneaking out to go get it because it's enough to power the city for decades and he's hoping if he gives it to Shadow Weaver she'll be able to use that to keep the city safe and no more magic people will need to die. He's planning to give it to her at the ball that night when she's actually going to make a rare appearance. (He justified stealing it from Glimmer bc he knew that the moonstone would only attract attention to her and probably get her killed.)

In the meantime, Glimmer and Catra have snuck into the ball. Glimmer has disguised herself and goes into the ballroom to try to find the man who stole from her. Catra warns her that they only want their goods back but Glimmer ignores her, fully planning to kill Bow as soon as she finds him. Meanwhile Catra is planning to watch Glimmer's back but she senses magic, so much magic it might be the moonstone. She follows the scent and finds... Adora.

Adora springs into action to fight the intruder! The two fight homoerotically, enjoying the challenge of having someone so evenly matched to fight with so they end up flirting, giving up easy chances to win to keep the fight going. Meanwhile Glimmer dances with / flirts / tries to kill Bow on the dance floor.*

(* I would have so much fun writing both of these scenes, you know I would. Fancy costumes! Flirting while dancing and trying to kill each other! Homoerotic flirting while fighting! Very much my jam!)

Then everything goes to hell when Shadow Weaver shows up. She goes to kill Catra and Adora protects her without thinking, accidentally activating She-Ra, a power she did not know she had. Shadow Weaver has been waiting for this moment, it was why she kept her close all these years, and goes for Adora to drain her (because she's not really draining people for the city, she's draining them to keep herself immortal.)

Meanwhile, in Glimbow's back and forth battle / dance of sexual tension Glimmer has gotten the moonstone back. She's got a knife to Bow's throat, ready to kill him but she can't do it. Then SW's head general, Hordak, appears. He's found out that Bow snuck out because Entrapta has independently invented the same magic scanning tech, and he goes after Glimmer, his scanner showing her to be full of magic. Bow tries to save her, knowing they'll drain her if she's caught, getting badly injured in the process. Hordak is about to finish him off, but Glimmer decides she doesn't want Bow to die after all and, in her desperation, activates power she didn't know she had, teleporting them both directly into the area outside the city they've been told is the darkness where nothing can live… but where they meet an old lady named Razz who greets them as the lost King and Queen of Etheria.

So Bow is dying and Glimmer is confused and Shadow Weaver has Catra and Adora and thaaaat's all I've got so far! shrug

For Inspired By Someone Else’s AU

#MAYbe I'll Make This #sorry for making your AU complicated Res #i WILL do it again #catradora #glimbow #glimmer #bow #adora #catra #pickpocket #glitra #spop #shera #she ra #resflower

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