clara8pie

[clara8pie]

Hush was only ever supposed to have seen the world in black, white, and shades of grey. Things were supposed to simply be for his purpose, against his purpose, or somewhere in between. The Sovereigns knew that a little nuance was needed in there somewhere because acting without it had bitten them in the past.

Black, white, and grey morality was simple. Easy. Befitting of a force given form.

And Hush had liked it. He'd found it easy. The articulates were against him, so he fought them and killed many of them. Closeknit was trying to get in contact with the Sovereigns so they needed to stay around. Doc was something in the in between.

But Doc wasn't just grey.

Doc was something else.

He liked the way that they made him feel. He liked that they asked questions that pushed the boundaries of what he'd been made for. He liked to make them feel at ease just like how they made him feel.

And so, as most things made by a Sovereign, he began to deviate from his set purpose, but it was only when he was with Doc.

Hush finds out about a different color of morality when he's watching one of the shows Doc likes with them one night after they've had a rough time at work. He's cuddled up next to them, his head nestled in the crook of their neck and shoulder as they ramble about the magic system and way that the characters fit into it. He likes listening to them talk and get excited about their favorite things. And then they bring up blue and orange morality.

If he's being honest, he has no idea what they're talking about, but then they explain it in small, slow, simple terms. Hei Bai is only doing what he's supposed to do as a protector of the forest. He doesn't operate in the same way that humans do with perceptions of good and bad. Kind of like how Hush is with his purpose.

Something clicks that night and he doesn't think much of it.

That is until he kills Vega.

And everything inside him tells him that that was wrong. That was bad. He shouldn't have done that.

Doc is able to calm him down. They're able to help him to breathe.

And he begins to think about different colors of morality again. Doc isn't white or black. They're not grey. And they don't have one purpose that they're operating in like if they were blue or orange like Hei Bai or him.

It's a couple weeks later once Vega's been returned to his physical form and he's kissed Doc that he asks them what color their morality is.

They say they don't know.

Hush thinks. He's quiet for a long while. He thinks and then he says, "Gold."

He doesn't explain it. He doesn't think he can.

But in his constantly shifting form trying to find what feels right, just like the black, white, and grey is a constant in his colors, in his body, gold finds its way in. He's not supposed to have that. Not supposed to think or feel or love. He's supposed to just be a force enacting a purpose.

But he's made by the Sovereigns. And like all things made by the Sovereigns, he defies his original purpose and complicates it with his own will that he's not supposed to have.

And he's gold. He's gold like Doc and the sunshine and the complexities he's found.

Doc is gold. And because Doc is gold, so is Hush.

[clara8pie]

‘getting hot in the club with your vampire mate’

[clara8pie]

Aaron & Smartass ⭑.ᐟ

[clara8pie]

Noticed concerns from people on Tumblr about how the Leverage Redemption team uses AI, Breanna in particular, and thought this thread with John Rogers would be relevant! (x)

[clara8pie]

the leverage ot3 is so amazing because each pair within it has its own unique and fascinating dynamic and then all 3 together have a third fascinating dynamic so the character depth is so good.

like parker and hardison have their adorable dynamic that gets tons of attention in the show so i don't think i have to explain but if i do, they are super playful with each other and so loving and romantic and hardison is always calling parker pet names and it's fucking adorable.

then you have parker and elliot, who are the two most emotionally stunted on the team, but something about being the two people who aren't "good" like the rest of the team (like basically the whole conversation they have while stuck in that like ice cave in the mountain climbing episode) is super deep. also, especially in redemption, i love how even though they pardison are not canonically dating eliot, parker is always including him in their future plans, like elliot will also get robot bodies with parker and hardison, etc. etc. like this is particularly sticking out to me in the most recent leverage redemption episode (the swipe right job) when parker is going on a rant about dating apps and elliot goes "we're in trouble" (about their covers getting blown on a job) and parker's like "no me you and hardison are fine" like hello did she just acknowledge that they're dating? more to the point though, i love how we see parker and elliot just hanging out and having like real, honest conversations, especially in redemption. i also love how they clearly spend time together outside of work - like the sheer number of parker and elliot noodle incidents is insane.

next up: elliot and hardison. holy shit they are so iconic. they are the big guy smart guy duo and it plays out in such a sweet way in their relationship. like even though he acts all exasperated, hardison really softens elliot up, for example, elliot complaining about the lucille song but then joining in in the first contact job. and then, at the same time, elliot helps hardison be tougher, think his really great speech in the rundown job where he convinces hardison that he is capable of stopping the terrorist attack and he like grabs the back of his neck and stares him right in the eye like he's donating his aura or something. but at the same time as encouraging him to be tough, elliot is still super overprotective of hardison, like when he instinctively grabs hardison and steadies him when he steps on the mine in that same episode, and i think that's so cute. speaking of the rundown job, the way that elliot and hardison are supportive of each other both in like a serious way and like a funny flirty way. as far as serious, in that episode, we have elliot literally jumping for joy when hardison figures out the sos car thing in time, and then of course as far as flirty and funny, you have the handshake when they're both staring at how hot parker is dodging lasers. btw the fact that they have a handshake too is just like the definition of their dynamic. i love it.

finally, all three together is super interesting because of how all of these dynamics come together. elliot is the scary looking dog who could fuck you up but is actually quite sweet and would rather nap with you on the couch. parker is the cat who takes a while to warm up to you but once she does she is super loving and sweet. and hardison is their genius golden retriever who is like the heart of the group and is always bothering the other two to play with him but secretly they love it. and they work together so well because they play off of each other's strengths and compensate for each other's weaknesses. it's just so fucking amazing ot3 5ever.

[clara8pie]

sometimes i think about how eliot spencer in any other font would be such an annoying character. like he's the gruff, ex-military, man pain guy who gets all the girls. and then they said no! he's a thoughtful and kind man who children love and who has an absolutely mind-obliterating insane amount of ptsd. and he's got long hair, jewelry, and probably some sort of pronouns situation. and he's almost certainly in a sort of queerplatonic throuple with an adhd genius and the most autistic woman(?) alive. what a character

[clara8pie]

I love that RPG race trail rations post, and it got me thinking about non-Eurocentric fantasy trail rations. I focused on Central and South Asian cuisines (as I also needed the information for a project I’m working on). I looked for foods that were easy to carry (dry or dehydrated), easily obtainable in markets/easily foraged, easy to cook/not needing cooking at all, and high in protein/generally filling. Many foods had language-specific names and some overlapped into different regions, so I bare-bones’d the names. This is what I came up with: 

Dried curd comes in many forms – kashk, aaruul, quroot, etc. – and was of particular interest to me, since I learned it was used since (and before) medieval times as a trail ration for soldiers and travelers because it is lightweight and high in protein. The more you know. 🌈

Tempeh is one of my favorite food options, but I should note that it originates from Southeastern Asia, Indonesia in particular. 

Bamboo is extremely handy for use as both a carrying and cooking vessel, and would save a character the hassle of bringing a skillet with them (provided the character is in an area with large bamboo and a water source). It’s a method still used today because it’s extremely efficient. Storing eggs in rice is a good way to travel with them and keep them from cracking for a short time. 

These are just some basics and I’m only scratching the surface, so if anyone has foods to add from these regions (East and Southeast Asia, too!), or any non-European region honestly, don’t hesitate to add them! 

[clara8pie]

Spin the wheel to get your government-assigned Transplanar adventuring party!

[clara8pie]

If you see this you’re legally obligated to reblog and tag with the book you’re currently reading

[clara8pie]

Everyone keeps talking about "the writer's barely disguised fetish". But I still haven't heard about "the writer's barely disguised huge ass pet peeve"

[clara8pie]

Love fooliverse FL/Gav so much GOD + my take on fool! Lasko/Dear hehhee

[clara8pie]

[clara8pie]

Reaching out to the obscure forums of the Internet

[clara8pie]

hits treasure with the chronic pain beam

entirely self indulgent treasure/porter comfort under the cut

sorry if it’s formatted/written funny/ooc im in the clutches of a pain flare right now 😔

“fuck”

treasure was hurting. badly. the pain wasn’t anything new to them, but it was always fucking terrible.

so here they were, curled up on their bed, heat packs placed in the worst spots, medication in their system doing fuck all to stop the onslaught of sharp squeezing stabbing pins and needles pain.

“stupid, stupid. I waited too long to take those pills. so much for sleeping the pain away.”

treasure was getting frustrated. they were tired. they were hurting. they were alone.

they hadn’t heard from porter the last few days. he had work to do for his family, whatever that meant. god, treasure was really considering taking him up on the offer of magically induced sleep right now.

they miss him. it had been awhile since treasure had gotten particularly close to someone, and even though porter wasn’t around everyday, he was around often enough for treasure to notice his absence.

treasure tosses and turns, trying to find a position on the bed that will magically take the pain away. frustration turning into tears, forming quickly in their eyes.

“this sucks. im so fucking tired of feeling like this. it’s never going to get better is it?”

the sound of the phone ringing halts their rapidly spiraling thoughts.

treasure sits up to silence the disruption, stopping suddenly when a new wave of pain crashed into them, returning them to the fetal position of which they came. tears are flowing freely now, laced with pain, frustration and self pity.

“aw to hell with it. If it’s important they’ll call again.”

sure enough, the phone resumes ringing.

once. twice. three times.

“fuuuck”

treasure yanks the phone off the nightstand and checks the screen through bleary eyes:

missed call

text message: “I see that you are home”

text message: “mind if I come in?”

all from porter.

treasure perks up a little, wiping some of the still spilling tears off of their face before responding:

“back door should be unlocked. im in my room”

porter is in the bedroom doorway by the time treasure sets the phone down. he makes his way to them, silver eyes scanning over their body, hands reaching out to smooth treasures messy hair down, moving lower to cup their flushed face.

“what’s wrong my treasure?”

strong hands gently wipe away the freshly shed tears.

“im in so much pain, porter. i cant get it to stop. I need it to stop.”

treasure is a mess, borderline hyperventilating from crying, body tense all over. it breaks porters heart.

porter removes his hands from their face and places them on treasures arms, rubbing them gently.

“im sorry you’re hurting, my dear. lets calm you down a little shall we? take some deep breaths with me.”

porter guides them through the breaths, in and out, in and out, until treasure’s breathing is under control, their tears drying up, body relaxing ever so slightly.

porters not used to this. comfort has never been his strong suit, but something about being with treasure makes it so easy. there is something there, deep within him. a growing ache that he can’t quite identify. a fondness. a longing. a blatant desire to be near them and bring them peace.

“how are you feeling now darling? any better?”

“mm… a little bit. im not so panicked, but the pains still there.”

“I can help with that, if you’ll allow me”

“no, no don’t waste your magic on me porter. it’ll go away eventually.” even now, guilt chews through them. they never have been very good at asking for help.

“treasure, it would take a far greater amount of stress to even come close to denting my magical output. spending a small percentage of it on your comfort will be well worth it for the both of us, I guarantee it.”

treasure sniffles, the ache in their body ever present.

“…okay”

that’s all porter needs to hear. “lay back”

treasure obeys, falling back into the mess of pillows and blankets while porter situates himself next to them, wrapping sturdy arms around their frame and pulling them close.

“where is the pain today?”

treasure practically melts into him. “everywhere”

“anywhere especially bad?”

“mhm…my hips and back are killing me”

practiced hands run over skin, massaging the tense areas of their body, pushing a little bit of healing magic into them to ease the pain. treasure sighs, instantly feeling the warmth of the magic flow over them. “good lord where has this been all my life??”

porter presses kisses to the top of their head and across their face while tracing patterns down their back, saying without words “relax, I’ve got you”

treasure catches porters lips in a kiss, silently communicating back “thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re actually saving my life right now.” they move impossibly closer into porters embrace, feeling the pain in their body start to fizzle out.

“thank you porter. I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“oh please my treasure, it was nothing. why have all this magic at all if i never use it?”

a small smile creeps onto porters lips.

“besides, you know how i love to make you feel good, in any circumstance.” he presses another kiss to their forehead.

treasure matches his expression, smiling contently, finally feeling at peace. “I always feel good around you porter. you make it easy for me, even on days like this.” they press their lips to his his once, twice, three times, before closing their eyes and laying back down against him, healing magic making them so very sleepy. porters face flushes ever so slightly, taking in all of feelings around him. the same fondness longing desire that he has grown attached too.

“sleep well, my treasure”

the pair stay wrapped up in each others arms throughout the night, taking comfort in each others presence.

this is something they could both get used to.

[clara8pie]

I like to think that at one point during their hunt for Quinn, Darlin nearly died. And I mean properly nearly died; they'd had brushes with death before, but they thought this would be the one to stick.

I can sort of imagine them just lying on their couch after dragging themself back to their apartment, the only thing they had the energy to do. They stared at the ceiling, as dark spots began to cloud their vision. Their hand gripped their side, trying to keep the blood in, but eventually just. Gave up. Went slack and fell away, letting the blood stain their shirt and the smell of iron fill the air. They liked that shirt. It'd be a hassle to clean, they thought vaguely. Maybe it was for the best. They were tired.

So they let their eyes drift shut, and let the pounding in their skull consume everything. It all hurt. It was all exhausting. They just wanted it to be over, and if over meant dying of blood loss alone in their shitty apartment, then they were fine with that.

"Hey. Hey~ hey! What are you doing?"

A small voice piped up behind them, gratingly chipper. Darlin grumbled. "Tryin' to sleep."

"But you've gotta go get healed! Come on!" The voice tried to order them, speaking with more bravado and authority they really had. Something nudged at Darlin's ribs, like a shoe poking a corpse to check for any signs of life. In response they just shifted over, burying their face in their couch cushions. Smearing blood across already stained fabric. It didn't matter, that sofa had seen worse anyway.

The pipsqueak sighed, dejected and annoyed. "Quit being stupid. Cmon, Gabe'll be pissed if you let it get any worse."

At that Darlin just laughed into the cushion. It hurt, so they stopped. "Gabe's fucking dead. He won't care. Nobody will."

"Oh." That was all for a couple seconds. For a few blissful seconds it was just the hum of their faulty lights and their heartbeat ringing in their ears.

"I miss him." The kid said into the silence of Darlin's apartment.

"Mhm." They grunted vaguely.

"Remember when he taught you healing?"

"Mhm."

They laughed, giggled, like this were all some joke that would come out in the wash. "You were pretty crappy at it."

Sitting with Gabe in the kitchen of the Shaw's house after they'd scraped their knee. Able to pull at the magic they needed in order to heal it, but useless when it came to focusing it, using it. They missed him. "Mhm."

Silence again. And then a small hand wrapped around their wrist. It tugged at them. They sagged and gave a good impression of a ragdoll, a dead fish. They didn't move and inch.

"C'mon. You can't just lie there."

They mumbled under their breath, just wanting the voice to go away. "Yes, I can."

The voice cried out indignantly, two hands now locking around their wrist and yanking with renewed force. Darlin's face lifted a few inches away from the couch, before crashing back down.

"Please get up."

Darlin's hand flew up and batted them away blindly, swatting at them like a fly, meeting only air. "Lemme alone, I'm tired."

"Come on, aren't you supposed to be the Tank? Nothing stops you!"

Darlin laughed, bitter. They sounded like a superhero. They'd always wanted to be Superman. Or like him atleast. God they'd been fucking stupid. "No. Not right now- not fucking ever. I'm not Tank."

Another desperate plea, raspy, and shrill as any of the others. "Please just get up."

Nothing. They forced their eyes shut even tighter.

Another grab and a pull. It felt so far away. "Cmon! You need to move!"

Would they ever shut up? "Please don't make me." Darlin didn't mean to, didn't want to reduce their last moments to begging like a petulant child, but their voice sounded so broken. Hoarse like an old mans, phlegmy from all the crying, scratchy from all the screaming. A lifetimes worth of screaming. Crying never came quite as easy. They repeated themself, their eyes burning. "Please just let it be over. I'm so fucking tired- please."

"No. No! You can't just let yourself di- do that!"

"But-"

"We need to see the Pack again! Isn't that the whole point of this?"

... they were right. This would all be pointless if they let themself go. They'd probably be sad. Asher would be sad. And Asher got so annoying when he was sad, with those stupid sad puppy eyes he had down to an art. Wouldn't stop until someone fixed the problem. It'd be pretty hard to fix it if they were dead.

Goddamn it. They screamed into the cushion, putting every last ounce of their frustration and rage into the deep, guttural noise until the was nothing less but a misery. A deep exhaustion and a hopelessness rooted so firmly in their core it might as well have been their since birth. But they placed an open palm onto the fabric beneath them. And, even though it felt like wading through quick sand, they opened their eyes and pushed themself upwards. They fell backwards, collapsing limply onto the back of the couch. The world was so grey.

"There ya go!" The small voice once again chipped in, and Darkin finally got to see it's owner.

It was them. A smaller version of them, with a gap-toothed smile and scruffy hair and dirt on their face. Ripped jeans and a shirt one size too big for them. A brightly coloured backpack was slung over their shoulders, a small pokeball keychain attached to one of the zips. The little wolf grinned at them, and the light of it hurt their eyes.

The little wolf hopped up to them, smiling like they'd just won an argument, and jumped onto the couch, perching on the edge. "Was that so difficult?"

Darlin rolled their eyes. Their hands, limp at their sides, began to twitch and eventually move to clasp the wound. It hurt. All of it hurt. How were they supposed to fix everything? They couldn't keep it all together, they weren't as good a healer as Marie or Gabe, they were-

The pup leaned forward and grabbed one of their hands, turning it over and opening it. They glanced towards Darlin and smiled, their voice for once soft, calm.

"You remember what he said?"

Darlin wanted to shrug but couldn't. It didn't matter anyway, the kid wasn't real anyway. They didn't care. "... that it's like riding a bike?"

The wolf snorted. "Nope, that'd be stupid. It's like knitting! You gotta take it one stitch at a time, slow and steady and allat."

Darlin breathed, and scrunched up their eyes, trying to pull upon the magic in their core like a spool of thread. It felt so far away, so heavy, it was like wading through molasses. It wasn't worth the effort, but they did it anyway. A pink glow settled around their hands, like clouds above mountain peaks.

"There you go! Guess we must've learnt a few things since then."

Darlin just nodded. They pulled a thread from the smoke, dark and thick, and moved it towards the wound. Watched it settle and the flesh begin to knit itself together again.

"Pretty-!" The wolf cooed, thumb stroking Darlin's outstretched palm. They grinned again, but it seemed forced, cautious. No sudden movements. "Thank you."

Darlin grunted and pulled another thread. And then another. And as the pain gradually ebbed and was replaced with the lethargy that healing magic brought, they felt no different. No better, no worse, just tired. But maybe the way the kid smiled at them would feel good, a while down the road. It might be nice to give them a reason to look forward to growing up. Maybe.

Probably just the blood loss talking.

[clara8pie]

porter. his name feels like black ink spilling over your skin. porter solaire.

you hate him because of how badly you miss him. his half-cocked smile, like he's shy to admit he's happy. his darkened eyes, the focus and concentration on the simplest tasks. his hair, wet on your pillowcase, his nose brushing yours.

you miss his scent, smoky and sharp and wistful. you miss the way his fingers traced your features like he was studying a painting. you miss his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth while he watches you laugh at his jokes.

you miss the way he woke up in the morning and left the bed, as if embarrassed to be caught in such a domestic scene. you miss the way he melted right back into your arms the second you called for him.

you miss his sharp teeth and sharper wit, his rough chuckles that you won with such a feeling of victory.

you miss the way he brushed your hair with such reverence, the way he sprayed your perfume on for you, holding your wrist with delicate awe. you miss the way he nuzzled into your shoulder as you told him off for being gone so long.

you miss his temper, even. his passion for so much, swinging darkly between pride and shame. you miss his brooding, you miss feeling the maelstrom of him lying next to you.

you miss him. porter solaire, by god, you are missed.

please, please, come back.

<3333 @cyanbugremix