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#the absence of a canary
thefugitivesaint · 2 years
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Tracking down information on this track is surprisingly difficult. The song is either from a French or German synthwave band from the 80s or early 90s. I’ve exhausted my patience hunting through that series of tubes known as the internet in pursuit of the elusive game of solid information regarding this band (or if, in fact, the name provided here is even accurate). My efforts have netted me nothing but expended energy. Alas.  Whoever made this sedately poppy, melancholically infused gem will most likely be lost to time (as all things eventually are).  Superfluous Addendum: The image used in the above video is from the cover of the Ceramic Hello 7″ ‘Climatic Nouveaux’ (1980). Here’s the B-side, Theatre Matrix. (And here’s their full length album ‘The Absence Of A Canary’ from 1981)
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determinate-negation · 5 months
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I see your answer, and it frankly infuriates me, your denial of documented hateful comments on campus and ACTUAL Jewish people saying they feel threatened. The refusal to acknowledge even the slightest defect in your "side" leads me to the conclusion that you yourself are not immune to propaganda and you certainly do not value jewish voices (unless, of course they agree with you). You are more than welcome to check the jewhatedb to have a taste of the spirits in some campuses.
As for this: "more cops on campus and administrations destroying academic freedom cynically framed as “preventing antisemitism” is actually a bigger threat for us in the long run" oh how nice of you to ignore those pesky jews in name of the greater cause of academic freedom, consider this, a space that ignores Jewish voices and excuses antisemitism wasn't free to begin with. You are willing to accept their absence for some sort of "long run" greater cause and that's, for the lack of better words, fucked up.
i didnt deny shit, i stated multiple times that antisemitism exists on college campuses, but i did point out that your examples are not coming from pro palestine students. theyre coming from people who are trying to vilify pro palestine students. why doesnt it infuriate you that people are threatening to murder jews just to make muslim students look bad? why is it not infuriating to you that bad media coverage on this makes jewish students unneccesarily scared when the threats are coming from our zionist so called allies? when did jews start cheering for police repression? do you think that attacks on left wing political organizing on college campuses are actually good for jews in the long run? i see someone didnt do their nazi history homework.
also im a marxist not a liberal that subscribes to bankrupt identity politics so the identity of voices is less relevant to me than the content of what theyre saying, but if you want to go on that path why the fuck are you ignoring my jewish voice and the voices of other anti zionist jews who agree with me?
as ive said many times before, there is a difference between feeling threatened and being threatened and jewish students feeling threatened by the existence of pro palestine organizations that are generally progressive and full of jews is in my mind separate from being threatened by real antisemitic incidents. which should be taken seriously but arent coming from pro palestine students as much as they are from reactionaries and opportunists.
besides the fact that “jewish voices” are not a monolith, academia does not ~ignore jewish voices~ except for anti zionist ones. anti zionist jews get doxxed by organizations like canary mission, get kicked out of jewish centers, get slandered by college admins and pro zionist organizations. college administrations bend over backwards to support israel and denigrate sjp and jvp on their campuses. as for academic freedom, its historically never been free for critics of israel, not zionists. jewish professors have been blacklisted from academia for criticizing israel in fact. you said youre glad youre not in american academia and its very obvious you understand nothing of american academia
https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/news/articles/the-blacklist-in-the-coal-mine-canary-missions-fear-mongering-agenda-college-campuses
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electric-beaugaloo · 13 days
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red canary specifies an absence of wood pulp wrt book remains and does not mention worm tracks while sam and alice find both book mulch and worm tracks
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playful dress miss raven
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HI 🤡 I wanted to do some doodles of Miss Raven in her own version of Stage in Playful Land’s costume.
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Yes, I was too lazy to color-- I drew inspirations for the outfit design from the female dancing puppets in Disney's Pinocchio (since the new event heavily references this film), Doll from Black Butler's circus arc, and ballet in general. The specific ballet I looked at was Coppelia; it's about a boy who falls in love with a doll (the creation of a mad scientist. His fiancé, Swanhilda, then impersonates the doll in order to win his love back. I thought it fit well with the idea of the "human puppet" motif of the Playful Dress series.
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BONUS DOODLES:
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I like to think that Miss Raven got dragged along for the trip because she was busy chewing the group out for sneaking off campus... then Kalim (bless him) thinks she's feeling left out, so he tells her to come with them! "The more, the merrier!" (And hey, Ferro and Gidel won't say no to another poor unfortunate soul for their amusement park.) "F-Fine! I'll attend, but only so I can keep a watchful eye on you all! I intend to write a detailed report on your transgressions for the headmaster to review when we return."
"Yeah, yeah. You say that now, but I bet you'll be like a kid in a candy store once we actually get there." Ace rolls his eyes. "You spend so much time with your head buried in a book--it'll do ya some good to kick your feet up and do something different for a change."
"Gahahah! It sounds like she's excited for Playful Land!" Kalim grins broadly. "We're going to have so much fun together!" "I will do my best to assist in the documentation of this trip, Raven Crowley-san," Ortho offers. "Pictures, videos... I'll record them all, so we won't forget this anytime soon!"
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... Anyway 🤡 Miss Raven has to help babysit the idiots (while trying to mask her own childish wonder as she experiences an amusement park for the first time). Oh, and J word and L*ona are there, so 💀 more trouble for her...
"Heh. You're staring at that roller coaster with big, sparkling eyes. If you want to ride it, then just say so." Leona says it with a smirk, a lilt of smugness to his suggestion. "There's nothing wrong with a kid being a kid."
"I-I'm not a kid! I'm just... admiring the composition of such an imposing metal structure!! There is nothing like it in the natural world."
Jade chuckles. "Would prefer to partake in one of the many games they offer here? Ah, and should you ever feel peckish, there is a selection of carnival fare to indulge in: caramel apples, popcorn, cotton candy--"
"All foods which would result in terrible toothaches if consumed in large quantities! And games? We haven't the time to enjoy such leisures."
"Oi, eel." A scowl from Leona. "Shameless of you to cut into our conversation, isn't it? I guess without the octopunk around to keep you on your leash you think it's fair game to act out in front of an upperclassman." "Oya? I don't recall there being a formal chaperone for this trip, Leona-san," he replies easily. "Fufu, perhaps you feel the need to preside over your juniors in the absence of the usual pack you dole orders to."
"Here's an order for you then: back off. You're killing my mood."
"As you wish. Come along, Miss Raven. We wouldn't want to disturb our dear senpai." "Dragging prey around like they're puppets on strings," Leona snorts, blocking the path. "You go. The canary stays. Our business isn't finished yet."
"Business?" Jade continues to smile. "Oh no, I would never mean to interfere with such a thing--but it's not truly business you're interested in, is it, Leona-san?"
"Funny. I was going to say the same of you."
"... You're both talking as though I'm not literally right here!!"
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britcision · 2 months
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I dunno if I touched on this already but I am Obsessed so you’re stuck with it
Just
Idk the Adventurer’s Bible calls it “cruel” that Mithrun told Thistle that Delgal wanted him dead in the end, but… it just doesn’t read that way to me
No one questions that Laios and co didn’t want to start a fight and just wanted to talk, but I feel like Mithrun was coming from a pretty similar place
He gives every prospective dungeon lord a chance, speaks to them more readily than anyone else, and always offers them a chance to back down despite clearly believing they won’t take it
And I mean I can’t 1000% cite it so I might be wrong, but… I think it’s also the only time he openly empathizes? He’s more emotive, with more facial expressions, but I can’t really think of another time he openly talks about what other people want
He’ll drop all his own trauma without batting an eye, but with Thistle and then with Marcille he tries to work out what their motivations are, what they want to wish for, and use his own experiences to warn them it can’t work and they won’t actually get it
It’s kinda cursory, but much less than Lycion asking Laios to give up on Marcille; he’s seeking a connection to spare them his fate, and while seeing Thistle catatonic doesn’t noticeably phase him, he’s pretty disinterested in the dungeon lords when you compare it to his reaction to the winged lion
(Full feral, 30 seconds flat, not a word before it’s peanut butter murder time)
The dungeon lords are ostensibly natural enemies as much as the demon is, and all the other Canaries are pretty focused on eliminating the dungeon lord as the first priority, and I dunno if any of the rest would even bother asking them to stand down
Lycion sure as hell doesn’t bother trying to justify to Laios why he shouldn’t go side with Marcille; he just asks him to abandon his friend, no, entirely expected, and he’s pretty clearly just humouring Kabru
Officially, they have to kill the dungeon lord to get a shot at the demon, and with a direct shot Mithrun loses his shit
But either dungeon lord alone? He doesn’t even try to seriously hurt them until he’s made the offer, he gets them temporarily incapacitated at best and he’s perfectly happy to let Laios free Marcille if he thinks he has even a vague shot at it
And sure, it might all be calculated to throw them off their game, to find weaknesses and rattle them before the fighting starts, but then why would he agree to let Laios help her stop being a dungeon lord without a fight?
The other captains sure as hell aren’t buying in, but Mithrun signs off without question, and it also might be that he just doesn’t care about the dungeon lords; any way he can get to the demon works
But he could have killed Marcille instead of trying to restrain or search her
He’s a fucking madlad, the time he used tackling her and starting the pat down could have begin with cape-decapitation to solve the problem before it occurred
He could have sent the plank into Thistle’s chest, not his arm to make him drop the book - that’s even a bigger target
They’re the Canaries. They already heard Laios say he wanted to be the dungeon lord. If they’d tpk’d the entire party there, it’d have been their job description, and we only got a dramatic final showdown because he gave Marcille a chance to just hand the books over… or let him take them
(Bet Pattadol and Lycion regretted pulling him off her, optics be damned, for at least a couple hours there)
Idk I just think it’s interesting that despite being the character with no wants or opinions on most things… he really does try to save the dungeon lords, and his squad follow his lead until they can’t even in his absence
(Talking to Laios and Chilchuck even after he’s fucked off, giving Laios even a cursory chance to quit)
It just… doesn’t add up that he told Thistle what Delgal wanted to be cruel, not on top of everything else
It wasn’t fucking tactful, but it was true, and if Thistle had believed him and realized that what he was doing was pointless…
That woulda been the fight. Wrap on Dungeon Lord Thistle, just a hop down for the other book, the status quo is mostly intact but the Island is saved
I don’t think it’s necessarily cruel to not want to kill someone
(But then the Golden Country woulda had to deal with King Mithrun Who 10000% Is Leaving To Find Another Demon Murder Opportunity, so like it was never an option narratively… which makes it all the more interesting that he tried)
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deafmangoes · 3 months
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A Dish With Good Intentions
So that bit where they try to make Marcille's "local cuisine" is funny to me, and I want to explore it a bit.
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Firstly, the finished product.
It's, uh. basically ramen. Delicious, but...
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Izutsumi being the Voice of Reason in Marcille's absence, and pointing out to the boys that they got completely the wrong idea (she's right, it turns out, because Marcille's 'home cuisine' is basically Italian and they've made it Japanese).
From the Adventurer's Bible, we know that Marcille and Laios come from the same place (the Northern Continent), while Senshi and Chilchuck come from the Eastern Continent, and Izutsumi the Eastern Isles. The cusine of the Eastern Isles is traditionally Japanese: rice is the staple, while the North, East and Southern Continents seem to have a more 'modern' Japanese style: lots more things like noodles, breads, pies, and what we might think of as fusion cuisine. It's why no one in the party (except Izutsumi) thinks of Senshi's cooking as unusual. Aside from the ingredients, it's the sort of dishes they'd eat normally.
But the elves have Italian food.
We get hints of that during the bit where Marcille's talking with the Canaries, but it's not really spelled out explicitly: this chapter is the only time you get real evidence for it.
Why?
Because while Izutsumi's right about one thing:
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And she correctly surmised that Marcille's "home" cuisine is different from what they usually eat:
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(Look at her she's adorable)
Senshi, Laios and Chilchuck weren't just being ignorant - they had no reason to suspect that this ramen dish wasn't correct, because...
... Marcille's "home" cuisine is her mother's native elven one. Of course Laios would assume she eats the same stuff he does! That's probably why he gets stuck on the idea of 'udon' instead of 'pasta'.
So yeah, this bit amuses me simply because it turns out Marcille's "hometown food" wasn't local at all, she grew up eating "foreign" food!
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bitimdrake · 1 year
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pssssst hey quick question on the dl - who is helena bartinelli??
i cannot answer anon questions on the dl, so answer on the up-high, which she deserves:
HUNTRESS
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a.k.a. Helena Bertinelli, a.k.a. Gotham's coolest and most notable antihero, crossbow-wielder, and purple bat-associated vigilante.
Helena was born to an Italian mob family, but spent her childhood blissfully unaware of the family business--until her entire family was slaughtered in front of her when she was eight. She stayed with family overseas for the rest of her childhood, learning how to fight and protect herself.
She came back to Gotham for both vengeance and justice, and became one of Gotham's many vigilantes. Though her focus is on the mob, she'll step in to stop any crime.
She's also a schoolteacher! Good for her.
She is discerning in who she chooses to kill, but she does kill. As you can imagine, this put her at odds with Batman for a long time. Helena is pretty much the premiere example of Bruce trying to claim control over every vigilante in Gotham, no matter how little right he has. The argument on killing/ethics is valid, but his default was basically "do exactly what I say and fall in line under my command, or stop completely," which is why he's an asshole control freak and why I'm constantly mad about how she was treated 👍
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She was an absolute mainstay of the Batfamily before Flashpoint (2011) and it is personally hurtful to me that people don't know her. (Like, to be frank? She had far more of a presence than Damian or (living) Jason in the post-crisis era.)
You could count on seeing her in any major Batfamily crossover, from Cataclysm to Battle for the Cowl.
She was central to the biggest Batfamily crossover ever, No Man's Land, where Gotham was locked off from the rest of the country and turned into a lawless wasteland. Bruce left to sulk for the first couple of months and in absence of any other vigilantes in the field (only Oracle having remained in the city), Helena donned the mantle of the Bat for herself to protect the city. And when Batman came back, in return for all she'd done, she got...yelled at, assigned impossible tasks and criticized for not achieving them, her costume stolen and given to someone else, lied to, abandoned in the face of impossible odds, and shot multiple times protecting kids. Absolute fucking hero, honestly.
She also was on the Justice League for a while, though admittedly I have barely touched that run. To my understanding, despite nominating her for the position, Bruce was also the one to revoke her membership there.
Fortunately! things improved!!
In the early/mid 2000s, Helena joined the Birds of Prey, Oracle's team, and found legit friendships and support there with teammates like Dinah Lance/Black Canary. She finally got more respect in the community, and had a much better time.
Additional relationships include:
A big sister/annoying little brother type thing with Tim, who may disapprove of her killing but simply likes making friends too much :)
A great relationship with Vic Sage/the Question
One single issue where she met Steph that presented SUCH interesting potential that I desperately wish had been followed up on
On and off romantic/sexual tension with Dick, depending on the writer, which culminated in a single hook up that apparently most people around here would rather pretend didn't happen, though I really don't think it's that bad
A complicated relationship with Barbara, partially due to clashing personalities and conflicting morals (with Babs being nearly as much of a control freak as Bruce), and partially due to a shared history with Dick because DC loves making women be catty
Surely others from her first solo or time on the JLA that I don't know well enough to list!
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She's rad and determined and takes no shit but cares a lot, and I love her. We deserve more stories tying her teaching day job into her night work. We also deserve more stories with her in general.
If you would like additional Helena beyond just cruising my tag, I recommend:
Batman/Huntress: Cry for Blood - far more Huntress than Batman, this is a great 6-issue miniseries about Helena reckoning with her past, ft the Question.
Batman: No Man's Land - if you have the time for it, a big storyline but worth it.
Birds of Prey vol 1 (1999) - Helena starts to appear around issue #57 and becomes a central character from there.
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ohblahdo · 4 months
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Another post about Ivan Vaughan reminded me of the parts in Chris Salewicz's Paul biography where Institute classmate Peter Sissons is like, okay, yeah, Paul and John were talented, but Ivan Vaughan, now THERE was a real original:
But it was Ivan Vaughan who stood out even more to [Peter] Sissons and, he claims, to the school in general. “He was the only other key figure there at the time who I would have thought would make it as some sort of creative personality. He stood out head and shoulders above everybody.” The dominating feature of Vaughan’s life was “an entirely distinctive sense of humor.” This, in turn, was influenced by “The Goon Show,” the British radio humor program starring Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe, and Michael Bentine to which every schoolboy would avidly tune in. But Vaughan’s surreal originality extended even beyond that, being, according to Sissons, “some ten or fifteen years ahead of his time.” A fatherless boy, one of the many members of the cast surrounding Paul McCartney who had lost a parent, Vaughan one day painted his name in three-foot-high letters across the front of the house while his mother was out. Another time, he arrived at school with, for no apparent reason, the dull appearance of his regulation black shoes having been altered by a thick, vivid coat of canary yellow paint. Later Vaughan employed a more subtle creativity with regard to his footwear: playing truant for days at a time, he would reappear at the Institute with an explanatory note, in his own carefully disguised handwriting, declaring his absence to have been caused by “shoes gone to the menders”—an absolute master stroke, for what member of the staff would dare question the undreamt tales of poverty and hardship that lay behind such circumstances? [...] “John Lennon was a highly original character,” sums up Peter Sissons. “But in my opinion, much of the outrageousness and unpredictability he displayed later in life came from Ivan Vaughan, and not the other way round.” [...] Peter Sissons has no doubts at all as to exactly how the balance in the relationship between the two Institute boys weighed up. Though Paul’s intelligent sense of humor was beyond question, he was by far the most conventional of the pair, his Ted-like appearance notwithstanding. “Ivan was certainly the leader: people followed him around because he was such an outrageous character, such a funny guy to be with, always making quirky jokes, which were never evil or yobbish, but just downright hilarious. So people would follow him around just to be amused.”
-McCartney, Chris Salewicz, 1986
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inaris-mage-of-storms · 9 months
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The number of days Scott didn't want to get out of bed grew more frequent in the weeks following his visit to the flower cave. But it wasn't because his limbs felt far too heavy, or because his thoughts felt about as easy to hold on to as dead leaves on a windy day. Instead, it was because absolutely nothing held a bigger draw than the way Jimmy heaved a little sigh, slowly blinked his eyes open, and smiled sleepily when he saw Scott watching him.
If Scott got out of bed, he would have to interrupt the lazy way Jimmy kissed him or the gentle way Jimmy's hand ran up his arm or the eager way Jimmy nosed into Scott's neck and pressed closer until Scott held him. Once his canary decided he was hungrier for actual food than for cuddles Scott happily got out of bed, but until then, he wasn't going anywhere.
Loving and being loved by Jimmy made Scott ridiculously happy. Giddy, even. So that made it all the more bitter when he woke up to Jimmy's gentle smile and couldn't muster one of his own in return.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled into Jimmy's chest on one of those mornings when a sadness whose source he couldn't name settled into his bones.
"What for?" asked Jimmy, his fingers soothing in Scott's hair and his hand gentle on Scott's back.
Scott sighed. "I dunno, for being this weak and pathetic thing you have to babysit?" Shame and frustration burned in his throat. "For being a grown man who can't keep himself together just because he had to face the consequences of his own actions? Gods, I'm a mess."
"Hey now. Don't even start with all that nonsense." Jimmy rubbed Scott's back and peppered kisses along his hair. "You're strong, petal, you really are."
The unexpected pet name was enough to make Scott's thoughts pause, and he lifted his head to look at Jimmy questioningly. "...Petal?"
Jimmy looked embarrassed, and Scott knew if he hadn't had his arms full of dispirited elf then Jimmy would be running fingers through his own hair or rubbing the back of his neck. "I was thinking the other day about how bright and pretty you are, like a flower. And how, um, how soft your lips are. Like flower petals. And I dunno, it just sort of seemed to fit, you know? I can call you something else if you don't like it, or just by your name if you prefer, I know some people don't like - "
He was starting to ramble, and Scott cut him off with a kiss. "It's okay. I like it," he said softly. Jimmy smiled brightly, and while it didn't make Scott's heart soar as high as it usually did, it was enough to make the darkness that dogged him a little easier to bear.
Scott tucked his face against Jimmy's chest again, and they lay there in silence for a few more hours. He got the sense that there was something on Jimmy's mind, but lethargy had settled in again and asking questions felt beyond his capabilities. He had his suspicions. More than once in the last couple of weeks he had found Jimmy staring forlornly at Fwhip's bedroom door. It was four months and counting into Fwhip's absence, and the canary was no doubt missing his king.
"Would it help if you left?"
Jimmy's question broke Scott out of his doze, and he lifted his head in confusion. "What?"
Jimmy didn't meet his eyes. "Would you be happier if you could leave? If you weren't trapped here?"
There was a downturn to Jimmy's lips that Scott didn't like. He kissed the corner of Jimmy's mouth, then his jaw, then his cheek. "Being with you helps."
"That doesn't answer my question." Jimmy gazed at him, worry and guilt mingling in his eyes. "The worst snows are over, and it will begin melting soon. You have your belongings. You could leave."
Scott stared at him. "Are you...are you saying you want me to leave?" He hadn't considered the possibility that Jimmy might one day grow tired of him. He hadn't considered that one day he might be presented with the opportunity to escape and be filled with dread rather than joy.
"No, of course not!" Jimmy's feathers began to puff up in distress. "If I'm honest, I want you to stay forever. I meant it when I said I loved you." His cheeks went pink at the admission. "But I want you to be happy, too. And if that means leaving, then - "
Scott shook his head. "I can't. Fwhip made it quite clear that he would hunt me down if I left."
"I wouldn't let him," said Jimmy stubbornly.
"You would betray him for me?" asked Scott in disbelief. "Because that's what it would be, Jimmy. Betrayal."
Jimmy looked sick at the very thought. "I love him," he said in a small voice. "He's my king and my partner and I love him so much it hurts sometimes. But watching you suffer hurts too, Scott. You've been unhappy for a long time, and I can't stand it."
Scott considered it. Part of him wanted to take the opportunity while it was there. Part of him wanted to leave and get as far away from Gobland as possible and never enter another cave again.
Most of him, though, wanted to see Jimmy smile again. Most of him wanted to cover Jimmy's face in kisses and hold him close and reassure him that the place Scott wanted to be was right by Jimmy's side, and he did exactly that.
"You aren't entirely off-base," admitted Scott after Jimmy's sad look faded away. "I would prefer to be here of my own free will rather than as a prisoner. But I also know this isn't for too much longer." He cupped Jimmy's cheek in his palm. "You gave me a reason to keep going when I wanted to give up, sunbeam. The situation isn't perfect, but I can't imagine how leaving you could possibly make me any happier."
Jimmy studied him for a moment. "Okay," he said finally, and despite his earlier insistence, he looked relieved. "If you're sure."
"I am," said Scott, then smirked. "Also, kind of flattered that you would consider committing treason for my sake. If I weren't already in love with you, I definitely would have fallen for you today."
Jimmy grimaced. "Please don't tell Fwhip we ever had this conversation," he muttered.
"Of course not." Scott twined his arms around Jimmy's neck. "On one condition. I'm hungry now, and I want dumplings."
"You drive a hard bargain, but I think that can be arranged," said Jimmy with a smile. "Throw in a kiss and you have a deal." Scott smiled and kissed Jimmy, and once again he got out of bed for his songbird's sake.
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pandalilydorlene · 3 months
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I don't think you understand how crazy I am for pandalily
Cold fire and warm snow
They are so perfect for each other,
Pandora brings Lily peace and wonder and a gentle understanding and recognition she has never felt before in her life.
Lily brings Pandora passion and intrigue and colour and light. She is Pandora's anchor, keeping her connected to a world that in her absence makes her feel like a petal being thrown around in a storm, only being able to give a hint of what direction the wind is blowing, not being able to stop it.
Alone they are child soldiers, they are a heartbroken sister and a girl with her head in the clouds, a lion in a zoo and a canary in a cage.
Together they are loved, together they are at peace, together they are Pandora and they are Lily and they can look into each others eyes and bury their hands in each others hair, feel the warmth of each others skin. Together they can exist and just be.
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zorilleerrant · 10 months
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Batman being able to sneak up on any member of the Justice League is a symbolic point about a regular human being able to stand up to inhuman goliaths and still be able to make a difference, no matter how small. As powerful as heroes of legend (and less concrete comparisons: corporations, governments, invisible social systems) can be, a person is not entirely powerless against them simply by virtue of still being a person who can see things and object.
But leaving that aside, members of the Justice League have wildly varied situational awareness and ability to see if someone is coming towards them, so it's going to differ a lot.
Some of them are totally regular humans, in which case Batman's stealth doesn't even have to be particularly impressive, just better than their ability to find hidden things. It would absolutely be easy for him to sneak up on Green Arrow. Most of the Green Lanterns would also fall into this group.
Some of them aren't regular humans, but don't have any special heightened senses to go along with their other powers. Flash could catch Batman if he knew to look beforehand, because he could run everywhere until he found the hiding spot; if he didn't know, though, Batman would still surprise him. Likewise, Captain Marvel could use his powers to predict where Batman was likely to be, but wouldn't just incidentally notice him. Aquaman's powers would have no benefit and Batman can definitely sneak up on him.
Cyborg is tied into Watchtower systems, and if the Watchtower can't find Batman, that's a huge problem, so he would definitely know. This would hold true at any of his solo or team bases, and probably a lot of other heroes' bases, where he's trusted with the security system. In the field, he would have advantages, like motion activated cameras and multi-spectrum scanning, but could still be distracted by other things, and therefore snuck up on. Others who have technological components or rely on technology and could be tied into security systems, like Red Tornado or Booster Gold, might have similar advantages, but not necessarily to the same degree.
Martian Manhunter can read minds, which Batman has specifically proofed himself against. However, this would lead to a very noticeable blank spot, like a black hole in telepathy. Even without being able to read his thoughts, it would be a bright blinking beacon to where Batman is at all times. People who rely on empathic skills as well as telepathic would probably all notice this absence.
Knowing Superman can hear his heartbeat, Batman would definitely install countermeasures in case he needs to avoid that. The Batmobile has a whisper mode in which it absorbs sound/light/kinetic energy instead of emitting it, and so Batman would likely build something similar into the suit which could be turned on in emergencies. For unrelated reasons, the materials of the suit will most likely be designed to dampen sound, light, smells, etc. as much as possible, and for any given suit he's using these will be muted as compared to a random person. So people with heightened senses would have difficulty sensing him, but it wouldn't be impossible, especially once they got to know him enough to learn his tells. Black Canary can't always hear him, but she learns to hear places that sounds around him stop, and use that to triangulate.
Wonder Woman is a trained soldier and her battlefield instincts are always on. She's literally always waiting for someone to sneak up on her, so there's no way Batman can get the drop on her, not when she has such a fast processing speed and can move so much faster than he can. Other soldiers (and people with hypervigilance symptoms) would have an advantage here, but not as much without both speed and heightened senses. Hawkgirl, with her fighting history and enhanced senses, but without Wonder Woman's serious speed advantages, would be pretty good but not as good as Wonder Woman at finding him.
Not everyone would be looking for Batman, though. Many people would be easy to sneak up on somewhere like the Watchtower or the Hall of Justice, where they have no reason to be on the lookout for someone trying to jump out at them, and would just relax. That doesn't mean that Batman wouldn't scare them; he doesn't necessarily do it on purpose, he just gets used to moving stealthily, and his suit is designed to accommodate that as much as possible. So he'd be in the kitchen making coffee and have someone walk in on him and scream about him sneaking.
And then there's Zatanna. She's so caught up looking into other planes and trying to keep an eye on what's going on in them, especially the ones she's partially responsible for, that anyone can sneak up on her when she's not in Fight Mode. Batman will walk up to her, greet her, get greeted back, and have a ten minute conversation - until her attention shifts back and she jumps and asks when exactly he got there.
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Our Man Flint
TW: vampyrs, blood, various weapons (no firearms), Christianity, bugs, attempted murder, traditional methods of slaying a vampyr, brief manhandling, captivity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize
Note: The word vampyr is simply an archaic spelling of the modern vampire. This story utilizes traditional Slavic folklore, largely ignoring Hollywood inventions. Although I do throw in my own ideas as well.
Flint eagerly traversed the steep hillside road leading to an abandoned castle, where gossips swore up and down vampyrs resided. The recently concocted rumors, fuelled by illness and death in the small town bellow, itched to be proven.
To Flint, the idea of undead nocturnal creatures feasting on the life blood of humans seemed far more compelling than simple fever and hysteria.
Flint's bag hung heavy on his back, the leather strap digging into his left shoulder. Hawthorn stakes, cloves of garlic, silver blades, and bottles of holy water weighed him down far more than seemed possible.
Or perhaps the objects themselves simply combined with his second thoughts to slow his pace.
A lock of black hair fell over his face, jostled by his swift pace. He swept it behind his ear.
Grass had long since reclaimed large portions of the road. The late summer sun parched the earth and bleached the plants to sickly shades of yellow.
The incline grew, as did Flint's excitement. He was finally facing his first chance to win back the faded glory from his first slaying of a vampyr.
He had intended for it to be his only attempt at the gruesome sport, a simple bid of necessity in a dark time. But the glory had proven a potent drug to which he had quickly become addicted.
His fellow townsfolk had sung his praises like canaries saved from the cat. His family had bragged of his courage to all who would listen. Strangers had hung on every exaggerated word of his tale.
But time faded glory, as it did all things, and Flint needed to continue with his sport to stay under the spotlight.
He couldn't bear the horror of surviving a failure. Being slaughtered by a demon seemed a much better fate than admitting to folly or cowardice.
So, he told no one where he was going and took off at high noon, determined to come back with the head of a vampyr, or excuses for his absence and a few pleasant words on the walk he had taken.
The bright golden sun crept lower in the sky, far past noon, leaving few hours for Flint's quest.
He eventually came upon the front door, a monolithic thing of rotted wood and rusted iron hinges. It reeked of decay and the many bugs living within its heart wood.
Flint nearly threw out his back forcing it open, the hinges screeching from the pain of use.
Any vampyr would be fast asleep, and any other form of inhabitant seemed incredulous, so Flint made no effort to stay quiet as he set off exploring.
Webs stretched from wall to wall, playing host to spiders, swollen from feasting on flies and maggots. Bugs writhed in the webs serving as their death row prison cell, awaiting execution.
Dust coated the ground, jumping up with Flint's every footstep. He coughed and spluttered, trying to clear his lungs. He had never been a smoker, and the sensation of his lungs being filled with foreign elements proved unbearable.
Tattered moth eaten tapestries hung from the walls, or laid limply on the floor, long since fallen from their rusted nails. Their bleached colors betrayed no original design or intention.
Flint had no idea as to what conditions vampyr's prefered. This crumbling castle could very well be a perfect condition for the more civilized sort. He had exhumed his only prior traget from a graveyard, where it laid in a coffin buried six feet under. Rather shabby, when compared to a fortress of stone.
A door caught Flint's attention. The wood looked oddly smooth and glossy, kept free of decay. He twisted the gleaming doorknob. It slid open on its hinges with nary a creak.
The opened corridor was lit by torchlight. Unusual, for any nocturnal creature to want for light or fire. But Flint didn't question the suspicious blessing, instead scanning the corridor for any hints as to its upkeep.
Every door and closed window shutter was fashioned from polished rose wood. Rugs covered the ground, their dark black color concealing any stain of blood which could mar them.
Bugs camped out in corners and crevices, but the webs were far less prolific. They seemed to have been cleared out with the dust and grime.
Flint clutched the crucifix hanging from his throat. He knew it ought to grant him spiritual support, but all he felt was the cold kiss of metal against his palm.
He stopped, entranced by the grotesque classical paintings hanging from the walls.
Glorious battles, religious scenes, and disgusting murders hung side by side with no distinction between them made through positioning.
Some were near pornographic, showing beautiful nude bodies writhing in the flames of hell or brutalized men in ruined clothing revealing far too much flesh.
Flint tore his eyes away. His heart beat frantically, threatening to push through its cage and spill his crimson life blood onto the black wool carpet.
After a few minutes of deep breathing, his heart returned to its proper pace, keeping him well and truly alive.
On an impulse, Flint chose the third door from the entrance to search first. Very little light poured into the room from the open doorway, but after taking a moment for his eyes to adjust, he could just make out its interior.
His heart settled in his stomach, like the body of a child weighed down with stones drowning in a deep well.
On the lefthand side of the room, a pale casket laid, carved from birch or beechwood. Painted patterns of flowers and leaves adorned its tan sides.
On the righthand side of the room, a dark casket blended with the shadows, fashioned from ebony, unblemished by paint nor varnish.
Flint crossed himself.
Then, when no sense of protection nor blessing overcame him, he did it again.
If anything, he felt more chilled than before.
He sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. Jumping at the clatter, he quickly scanned the caskets, listening for any hint of movement from their occupants.
But, of course, there was no movement. It would take a noise much greater than his bag tumbling to the ground to wake the dead.
After assessing both caskets, he decided to open the one of pale wood, revealing a man laid to rest inside.
A thrill ran up Flint's spine as he took in the vampyr's appearance. So youthful, as though a corpse bloated on embalming fluids, kept young by the work of a mortician having no idea as to their unholiness of their work.
Long blonde hair laid smoothly over the vampyr's shoulders, well combed and perfectly clean. Tight leather clothing and strange piercings gave the body a look far too human for Flint's taste. From his limited experience, he prefered vampyrs dressed in burial shrouds fit for the dead.
He didn't bother looking in the ebony casket. Whatever was laid to rest inside could wait until its brethren had been dealt with.
The sharpened hawthorn stake and stone headed hammer fit well in Flint's hand.
Placing the point directly over the vampyr's heart and bracing the hammer over the spike came naturally to him.
This was in spite of the unnatural being of the vampyr, a demon formed of human flesh, feeding on human blood to retain its eternal, ethereal youth.
An unholy mockery to all things faithful.
The killing of a vampyr was a disgusting act. The horrid crack of breaking ribs, great spurts of crimson blood coating both the vampyr and its hunter, and the terrible screams all combined to create an act more gruesome than the murder of a human could be.
Flint hadn't expected screaming on his first hunt, and the sound had made his blood run rancid. The only comforting aspect of the following decapitation had been the noise ceasing.
Flint braced himself.
One heavy blow of the hammer sent the spike through the vampyr's rib cage.
Flint's grasp nearly slipped from the blood slicked stake and hammer, but he tightened his grip and continued.
Another blow drove it into the thing's slowly beating heart.
The shrieking proved worse than Flint's memories had forewarned him, perhaps due to the closed quarters. Nothing earthly could compare. Not the anguish of any battlefield, nor the screams forged by tortured prisoners.
One final blow nailed the vampyr to the earth of its casket, despite its agonized thrashing.
Flint swiftly riffled through his bag for his silver dagger, loudly cursing himself for forgetting to pull it out prior to the attempted slaying.
The lid of the ebony casket openen, its owner awakened by the sound of its companion's pain.
Flint dropped his bag and made his break for the door. Despite his overconfidence in matters of vampyr hunting, he wasn't owned by the folly necessary to face a conscious vampyr.
The awakened vampyr ignored its prey in favor of aiding its companion. Flint accepted this as miraculous and slammed the wood door closed behind him.
The screaming suddenly cut off as the vampyr freed the stake and its companion.
Flint sprinted down the corridor, desperately trying to remember the path to the front door. He turned sharply at a fork, choked by a cloud of dust kicked up by his frantic pace.
The daylight outside would be his salvation, if he could only make it through the front door.
A cold hand gripped the back of his neck, as though a mother cat seizing her kit.
"And where do you think you're going?" a low voice hissed in his ear.
"Let go of me," Flint ordered shrilly.
He kicked backward at the vampyr, twisting to escape its grasp.
When this proved fruitless, he pulled his legs up in an attempt to force the vampyr to drop him, thrashing wildly.
His efforts were met with harsh laughter and sharp nails gripping his throat.
He put his feet firmly back on the ground, as not to seem so pathetic.
"What do you want?" Flint asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be.
"Depends what Ambrose thinks of your little stunt when he awakens tonight. He's recovering now, hence why I was the one to catch you."
"I've killed your kind before. I'm not fucking afraid of you." Flint's voice in its terrible high pitch betrayed his lie.
The vampyr laughed again, out of some sadistic sense of amusement.
Inspiration struck Flint. He pulled the crucifix from under his shirt collar in a desperate attempt to ward off the demon intent on preying on his life blood.
The vampyr swiftly took ahold of the silver chain, yanking it from Flint's neck with a snap of metal.
It hissed at the burns blooming on its hand, and cast the weapon aside, where it hit the wall and feel limply to the ground.
"I really don't appreciate that," the vampyr said, in a mocking tone meant to conceal its pain.
It dragged Flint down the hall, its claws digging into his neck.
A warm trickle of blood ran under Flint's collar.
Flint tried to support his own weight as he was pulled down a stone staircase, but stumbled trying to match the vampyr's pace.
The vampyr gave its prey's struggling no heed, other than a few sighs of annoyance, which were perhaps invented by Flint's own mind.
"Where are you taking me?" Flint demanded.
His captor ignored his useless questioning, instead yanking a door open. It shoved Flint inside, knocking him the ground with remarkable ease.
"We will deal with you when Ambrose has recovered," it said. "Try to escape, and see where it gets you."
It stormed out and slammed the door, before locking it with a key kept in the pocket of its cloak.
Flint rose to his feet, seething. How could he have been so stupid?
Of course that was the point of the screaming, to attract any vampyric allies. There simply hadn't been anyone to answer the call of the first vampyr he had slain, and he had a folly riddled habit of not questioning things which did not pique his interest.
He was trapped in a vampyr's stronghold, destined to meet some gorey fate at the hands of his would-be victims.
Faced with the actual possibility of it occurring, Flint no longer found the prospect of an honorable heroic death at the clawed hands of a vampyr anywhere near as desirable.
Heroism always seemed that way. Perfectly beautiful from an outside perspective, but bloody and impractical from the inside.
Flint leaned against the wall, trying not to breathe in any dust. The filthy rats and creeping bugs were hard to ignore, but Flint wasn't going to show his squeamishness. Not when his captor could be listening.
If he could make it through tonight, he would escape come the following dawn. He had nothing to do but wait.
@elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @mx-arsenic @anomalys-taxonomy @devourerofcheesecake
If anyone want to be added or removed from the tag list, tell me. ♡♡♡
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feralroyal · 4 months
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(crosspost from cohost)
so, a week after patreon abruptly permabanned hundreds of fetish accounts (with no warning & despite not violating patreon's tos) i'm now seeing a prominent 18+ artist getting his patreon frozen with no explanation at all as to what triggered it, or directive as to what he can do to recover his primary source of income. (link to tweet)
when the alarms started ringing on patreon's crackdown against fetish art, this is the slippery slope we were warning you about. dovegraveyard's work is not particularly niche in terms of content - he does primarily m/m pornography, rendered in watercolor. it is nothing more 'extreme' than you might find in any off-the-rack adult magazine. the fetishists and sex workers were, as they always are, the canaries in the coal mine, and in absence of patreon providing any real explanation as to why they have spontaneously frozen this account i seriously believe the noose is about to tighten further on all adult content, not just the kink.
not trying to be an alarmist or a doomer, but if you have a patreon you should be setting up some type of mailing list to keep in contact with your supporters, today. if your account ends up being targeted, it will be magnitudes harder to reorganize on a new platform without some way to inform subscribers what happened and where they can find you.
finally, if you are so inclined, i highly recommend pledging to dove as he attempts to rebuild on subscribestar. his art seriously kicks ass and he is just the latest in a long string of artists i deeply care about who have been casualties of patreon's dogshit staff shooting itself in the foot to please payment processors.
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azurestar · 1 year
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what if the flying graysons survived? (inspired by @31dod's prompt, but I took it and ran with it)
dick becomes a world-famous acrobat at haly’s circus. so, what happens to everyone else?
without robin, bruce is darker and single-mindedly focused on his mission. he doesn’t work well with others, and he doesn't have much to live for.
barbara still becomes batgirl– but without robin’s influence, she never gains batman's approval. she operates as an independent vigilante, and she’s mentored mainly by black canary.
several years later, bruce meets jason in crime alley. jason becomes bruce wayne's adopted son, and although he has no inclination to become a vigilante, he occasionally helps out on cases, runs comms from the cave, and helps alfred with medical treatment.
meanwhile, tim never becomes fixated on batman and robin. he has a fun night at the circus, goes home, and has a normal childhood— until his parents are killed in a plane crash, and he’s sent into foster care.
barbara's paralyzed and becomes oracle, but although she does keep tabs on gotham, the majority of her focus is on her own teams. the birds of prey forms much sooner: she has a pre-existing relationship with dinah, and– although she still disapproves of her lethal methods– she sympathizes with helena, who batman treats just as poorly as he did her.
stephanie becomes spoiler to confront her father. without tim's support, batman is even less accepting of her than he was canonically. but she doesn’t give up, and eventually finds her way to the birds of prey, who accept her as a teammate and a protege.
for some time, gotham’s vigilantes are split between batman and his allies and oracle and hers. it’s the no man’s land that ultimately bridges their operations.
when bruce leaves to lobby the government, oracle, huntress and spoiler stay to protect gotham. barbara, noticing the effect of batman’s absence on the city, suggests helena takes up the mantle. she agrees, and the birds of prey carve out a significant amount of territory.
in addition to the birds of prey, oracle has several civilian agents– including tim, whose foster parents left him behind when they fled, and cassandra, who recently arrived in gotham. the two become fast friends with stephanie. 
when batman returns, he silently appreciates what oracle has accomplished. for some time, batman and the birds of prey work in harmony…until helena realizes that barbara has been psychologically manipulating her. she tears off her bat-symbol and tells oracle that she’s done.
meanwhile, cassandra meets batman, fashions her own mask and suit, and helps in his fight against cain. she begins splitting her time between bruce and barbara, accompanying batman on his patrols and spoiler on oracle’s missions. finally, bruce visits oracle, and asks for her blessing to make cassandra the next batgirl— implicitly acknowledging everything barbara’s done for him and promising he’ll be a better mentor to cassandra than he was to her. touched, barbara agrees, and the two become partners— both in rebuilding gotham and in mentoring cassandra. barbara and helena reconcile, and she rejoins the birds of prey.
damian arrives in gotham on his tenth birthday. recognizing cassandra as his father’s most trusted ally, he attempts to defeat her in combat. he's unsuccessful. later, while she and batman are out on a case, he pushes jason off the giant dinosaur, steals one of cassandra’s costumes, and attempts to join them. again, he’s unsuccessful.    
bruce dies. cassandra, as his natural successor, becomes batman. damian insists on taking her role as batgirl, batman’s closest partner and heir. stephanie is cassandra’s second-in-command. they mentor damian together– cassandra teaching him about the sanctity of life and stephanie teaching him how to be a kid– and over the years, he grows into a hero in his own right.
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heavenlyheartsclub · 2 years
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PEACHY (Bill Cipher/Reader Oneshot)
AN: A sort of continuation to the Out Weirded oneshot, which you can read here! Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So would you say you’re more of a canary yellow or a lemon yellow?” Y/N inquired, tapping a pencil to their chin.
“DOES IT MATTER?” Bill responded matter of factly, trying to hide the annoyed tone in his voice.
“Canary it is….” Y/N decided, scribbling down in a notebook. They sat on an old fallen log, tapping their foot in thought as they wrote. Ever since their meeting, Y/N had been periodically coming back to the statue to speak with Bill in the dreamscape.
As per their deal, Y/N was allowed to ask whatever manner of questions they wanted to the triangular being, and in turn, Bill had slowly been catching up on the going-ons of Gravity Falls during his absence. Though he initially prepared to lie if the human got too nosy, Y/N had instead taken these opportunities to ask the most boring of questions. His favorite color, food preferences, if he had bones, how he floated, etc. It was hard to tell what their true intentions were, as he couldn’t quite call their questions research. Unlike Ford’s complicated notes and statistics, Y/N’s journal was closer to that of Mabel’s, their findings accompanied by small doodles and stickers to brighten up the pages. He would have read their mind to get a better scope on them, but that seemed to be another thing the Axolotl had taken from him in their own deal.
What was the point in resurrection if his powers had all but vanished? As much as he hated to admit it, he was weak. It had taken him years just to reconstruct his atoms into a solid form, so now his grip on his abilities was that of a novice. It would take time for him to be back at full power, and he was feeling especially impatient. The dish best served cold known as revenge was at the very least lukewarm by now. Well, at least he had Y/N to talk to. Caught in his own thoughts, he barely picked up on the tail end of Y/N’s mutterings behind him.
“26…27…28..29…”
“WHATCHA’ MUMBLIN’ ABOUT KIDDO?” Bill asked, fully spinning around to face them. Y/N jumped in surprise, fumbling with their writing tool as their cheeks were dusted with a light red coloring.
“I-It’s nothing! Just um, counting the blades of grass.” They stated, patting the ground in an awkward manner. Bill narrowed his eye in suspicion, but quickly decided whatever it was they were muttering about was of little concern. Y/N still had no idea that they could do whatever they’d like in the Dreamscape, and he’d like to keep it that way.
“WELL ANYWHO, HOW’VE YOU BEEN SINCE YOU STARTED WORKING AT THE….WHAT WAS IT CALLED AGAIN?”
“Total brick count… about 32…” Y/N noted quietly, scribbling down in their book. Bill put his hands on his angles in frustration as he cleared his throat loudly. Y/N jolted again, trying to remember what Bill asked them. “Oh! Uh, The Mystery Shack! It’s called The Mystery Shack.” They responded.
“THE MYSTERY SHACK! RIGHT, RIGHT.” Bill repeated to himself, trying to appear oblivious to what the Pines family’s home was. “WHAT’S THAT LIKE? ANYTHING INTERESTING HAPPEN AROUND THERE?”
“Nope not really. For a place all about the strange and fantastical, it sure can be boring. I mainly just do cleaning and stock merchandise.”
“THAT SO? WELL, HOW ABOUT YOU’RE COWORKERS? BET THEY’RE INTERESTING CHARACTERS.”
“I guess so. My boss Mr. Soos is a really cool guy, and his wife Melody is nice. They always check up on me to make sure I’m okay and help during especially busy days. Their son Micheal is really cute too! When I’m on break he plays Mario Kart with me, he’s really good at it and-“
“GREAT, GREAT. THEY SOUND LIKE NEAT FOLKS.” Bill interrupted, not at all interested in hearing about side characters’ lives. They weren’t who he was focused on. He continued, “THOUGH IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, WASN’T THEIR SOMEBODY ELSE STAYING AT THE SHACK?
“Oh yeah! So apparently before Mr. Soos was the boss there, the place belonged to Mr. Pines who was his boss originally. He said he gave him the place when he retired, something about traveling. But Mr. Pines’ grandniece and nephew visit every summer, so they’ve been staying there since I got hired a few weeks ago.”
Now they were talking, Bill thought. “REALLY NOW! YOU MEET EM’ YET?”
“Yeah I have, they’re twins. The boy is named Dipper and the girl is named Mabel. Dipper’s kinda shy but he’s like crazy smart about all sorts of things. Mabel is awesome too, she’s so sweet and funny and she makes her own clothes!! Oh! She also has a pet pig! A pet pig named Waddles! Can you believe that?”
“OH YEAH, THAT’S REAL AMAZING.” The triangular being spoke on autopilot, completely blocking out any useless information. “ANYTHING ELSE?”
“Hmm, well….Dipper does keep this book on him at all times. Some sort of journal I guess?” Bill’s eye widened as he unknowingly found himself coming in close to Y/N. Finally they were getting somewhere! Listening to the human’s absurdly long rambling was paying off.
“OH?”
“Yeah it looks homemade. It’s leather and has a gold symbol on the front. It-“ Y/N suddenly stopped mid sentence to stare intently at Bill’s hands. After an awkward pause, Bill was about to ask what they could possibly be looking at, as Y/N answered his question before he could even ask it. “Huh, you only have four fingers.” They stated.
Bill didn’t have the time nor patience to register Y/N’s ridiculous statement. He snapped his fingers in front of the human’s face to get their attention. “WHAT’S IN THE JOURNAL KID?”
Y/N blinked absentmindedly then shrugged. “Dunno, Dipper won’t let me read it. You know, that reminds me.” Breaking eye contact, Y/N focused on their own notebook, flipping pages before landing on a rough sketch of Bill himself. Some parts were unfinished, such as the brick pattern and details on his cane, as well as his hands. Quickly scribbling it in, Y/N doodled the proper number of fingers on their reference drawing. “There! Another puzzle piece put into place.”
Bill physically slumped in defeat, letting out an exhausted sigh. Forget it, he was too tired to try and push them for any more details today. He floated to Y/N’s side, leaning himself up against their shoulder as he looked over them drawing. “I DON’T LOOK ANYTHING LIKE THAT.”
Y/N laughed weakly. “Really? I thought I’ve been doing pretty good so far.”
“YOU GOT THE BASICS BUT THE PROPORTIONS ARE ALL WRONG. YOU MADE MY EYE TOO SMALL.”
“Oh? I guess you’re right. Thanks for the tip.” They said, erasing the eye they had drawn and making it a bit bigger. “How’s that?”
“MUCH BETTER.”
After a bit of silence, Y/N paused mid sketch, their gaze suddenly locking with Bill’s. Bill tensed a bit as Y/N continued to stare, letting out a hum as they subconsciously tapped their pencil against the notepad. They shifted their weight onto their free arm, using their hand to prop up their head. “You know, being up close to you like this, I realize I’ve never really noticed how long and pretty your eyelashes are Bill.” They stated utterly bluntly, a small smile gracing their lips.
The triangle suddenly froze completely still, as if mimicking his own statue. His eye was unmoving, and he was scarily quiet. All of a sudden the golden glow surrounding Bill’s form grew significantly brighter, as his usual yellow faded into a warm peach color that completely overtook his body. Y/N’s eyes widened in awe. “Woah, that’s new. What does that color mean?” Y/N asked curiously, leaning in even closer. Bill suddenly placed his hands onto Y/N’s shoulders and pushed hard, his arms extending a ridiculous length as he moved them a great number of feet away from himself.
“IT MEANS YOU’RE GONNA WAKE UP NOW.” He exclaimed a little louder than usual, floating even farther away from them.
“Wha-really? I don’t think it’s even been and hour ye-“
“OOH TOO BAD OH WELL SEE YA NEXT TIME THEN BYYYYEEEEEEEEEE.” Bill interrupted, giving a frantic wave goodbye as Y/N began to wake, their dream form quickly fading and blinking out of the Dreamscape altogether. As soon as he was sure they had left, Bill let out a sharp exhale, trying to regain his composure. He nervously fidgeted with his bow tie and summoned a mirror, turning every angle to get a better look at his complexion. Instead of his signature bright yellow, Bill’s pyramid shaped body was colored an almost sunset shade, a mix of peachy orange with large flushes of rosy pink under his eye.
Just seeing this new palette made him turn color further, the pink fulling enveloping his form. He grumbled angrily at this, gripping a hand to his face. Never in the trillions of years in this form had he ever changed into a palette like this. Red sure, black sometimes, but never this….warm and soft coloring.
“THAT PINK FRILLED IDIOT MUST HAVE DONE THIS.” He surmised, waving the mirror away. First they stuck him in his subconscious, then they nullified his powers, and now they were changing his colors randomly like a stupid pyramid shaped strobe light? They could laugh all they wanted now, but the second he was back in the third dimension, he would be paying the amphibian deity a visit.
They had to be the reason for this sudden change, for this sudden strange warmth in his figurative chest.
That had to be it. Right?
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scribbling-dragon · 2 years
Note
I had an idea that could be a writing prompt if you want
Someone hears Jimmy and Tango blow their horns and thinking nothing. Then, in the chat
<Grian was slain by SolidarityGaming>
<GoodtimewithScar died fighting TangoTek>
Then, two goat horns sound off. A warning, and a promise.
Horns of War
Summary:
He barely hears the horn when it sounds off, the slightly lilting and more musical tones something he’s adjusted to ignoring over the past few days. The creaking of the door opening covers it almost completely. They sound a little further away than normal. “Don't respond to that.” He reminds Cleo, not pulling his eyes away from his current project, sharpening his axe.
(AO3 Link)
(562 words)
i think jimmy and tango deserve a little murder, as a treat
(reblogs >> likes!!)
He barely hears the horn when it sounds off, the slightly lilting and more musical tones something he’s adjusted to ignoring over the past few days. The creaking of the door opening covers it almost completely. They sound a little further away than normal. “Don't respond to that.” He reminds Cleo, not pulling his eyes away from his current project, sharpening his axe.
She hums in response, and he listens as her footsteps retreat, the creaking of chests following her departure as she rummages around for whatever it is she came looking for. He allows that noise to fade into the background too, allowing the task at hand to absorb his entire focus.
A second horn follows the first, the same tune echoing out across the surrounding hills. He assumes that’s Tango or Jimmy responding to whoever blew it first, responding because they all know no one else will.
The sound of him scraping the stone over the axe’s blade almost drowns it out completely, a grating sound filling his ears as he stares down at it, completely absorbed in his task. His communicator vibrates to his left, and he ignores it in favour of running the stone over the blade again.
“Scott?” He hums, not looking up from his weapon, “Have you checked your comm recently?” She sounds a little worried, and he looks up then, away from where his face was reflected, distorted, in the shining blade of his axe. She’s re-entered the room, holding her communicator in her hand, staring down at the screen and not at him.
“Not recently no,” he glances over at where it lies, remaining quiet, “It buzzed a minute ago but I was busy.”
“Maybe check it?” She says, voice sounding a little thin to his ears.
He rolls his eyes but leans forward anyway, over his axe, reaching for his communicator. He grabs it off the end of the table, almost knocking it to the floor as he stretches for it. Still, he brings it closer to him, pressing the power button and watching as the screen flares to life.
There are only two recent messages, but it’s enough for him to feel like he’s plunged into powdered snow again, ice rushing through his veins as his breath leaves him in a gasp.
<Grian was killed while trying to escape SolidarityGaming>
<GoodTimesWithScar died fighting Tango>
“What?” He manages, “How?”
“They're red,” Cleo reasons, “It was probably only a matter of time before one of those two pairings went for the other. They've been at each other’s throats for most of the season. Though, I did think it would be the other way around.”
“So did I.” He can seem to pull his eyes away from the two messages on the screen, flicking over to the player list to find Scar and Grian’s names greyed out and faded. He swallows, eyes flicking to meet Cleo’s, “Jimmy’s always the herald, canary in the coal mine or whatever, so what does it mean this time?”
“He’s a herald for something different this time.” Cleo stares back at him, “Is it selfish to wish he had been the first to die again?”
A horn echoes in the air towards them, singing in the absence of sound. The sound makes his skin rise in goosebumps, shivering a little when a second horn joins the first.
“Not at all.”
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