#to me she’ll always be a bruiser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zaebeecee · 4 months

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Blitzø’s 13 ••

Written by @fletchingbrilliant and ZaeBeeCee

Chapter 2: The Bruiser & the Pickpocket

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•••

Mild CW for canon-typical Crimson homophobia.

•••

“Give me the rundown of the current situation.”

“Yessir.” He was so much taller than she was. It was hard for her to keep up as he strode along the long hallway, not even gracing her with a downward glance. She practically had to jog to keep up with him, tablet balanced on her arm and eyes divided in focus between the words on the screen and where she was walking. At least people always cleared a path for him wherever he went, and she could take advantage of that herself.

It was exactly the same here as it was at VoxTek: nobody with a working brain cell wanted to get in Vox’s way, because that was a sure way to get his left eye turned on you. In many ways, Millie respected the drip, not that she would ever tell him that.

“Invitations have gone out t’all of th’ Princes,” Millie said, scrolling through the details and glancing over them. “Positive responses have already come back from Asmodeus, Mammon, Satan, and Beelzebub. His Majesty warned us that Belphegor probably won’t respond at all, but she’ll still show up, and that Leviathan won’t respond until we send three more assurances. Also, selective invitations have been sent t’ th’ Houses of the Ars Goetia, namely House Paimon, House Vinea, and House Belial, with a special inclusion for House Beleth, which recently passed t’ Prince Vassago. We have left an openin’ for House Zagan if he, y’know, finds out they weren’t in th’ first round.”

She could hear Vox roll his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “Well, if President Zagan does attend, we may be able to convince him to turn whatever spilled blood we have into wine.” He opened the door to his office and she followed him inside, closing the door behind herself and standing in front of his desk as he settled in his chair. Millie kept her eyes on either her tablet or the screen that was her boss’s face, keeping her gaze off of the bank of screens behind him and the glass aquarium wall to her left, where she knew several hellsharks were silently swimming back and forth as a threat to anyone who questioned the head of security at Lucifer’s Palace.

Millie cleared her throat as Vox watched her expectantly. “Th’ only affirmative response we’ve gotten from the Ars Goetia is from House Paimon, specifically Prince Stolas, his family, and his contingent, including the arctic marquis. But we’re expectin’ all of them and have accounted for a total of two hundred and fifty hellborn for the event.”

Vox nodded in vague approval. “What about the sinners?”

Millie swallowed. This was the part she wasn’t looking forward to in the slightest. “Well, invitations have been limited t’ th’ overlords at His Majesty’s request. Miss Rosie has agreed to provide caterin’ for us, and requested a finalized menu by th’ end of th’ week. Miss Carmine has agreed t’ send Odette and Clara a month in advance t’ collaborate with your engineers on th’ heavier side of th’ security systems. Mister Zestial sent a real ominous message back that we’re almost positive was a yes. And, of course, Mister Valentino and Miss Velvette are makin’ arrangements for VoxTek’s management while they’re at the event. Mister Valentino asked you t’ call him when you’ve got a minute.”

“Regarding?”

Millie shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

Vox rolled his eyes, grimacing and waving his hand. “Alright, I’ll deal with it. What about the other overlords?”

Millie hesitated. “…there was, um, insistence that invites go out to every active overlord.”

Silence greeted that statement. Vox stared at her, his left eye twitching. “Every… overlord?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you mean to tell me that an invitation has been issued to the Radio Demon, and I was not informed of this immediately?!” Vox snarled, his voice getting louder as he spoke; he rose to his feet, digging his claws along his desktop.

Millie squeaked, raising her tablet as an ineffectual shield between the two of them. “P-Princess Charlotte is a big fan of Mister Alastor’s radio program,” she said quickly; no matter how physically strong she was, she didn’t stand a chance against the television overlord. “She named him specifically when giving her own invitation requests! But he hasn’t responded and we aren’t even sure he’ll receive it at all, much less actually show up!”

Vox narrowed his eyes, then closed them, sinking back down into his chair. When he opened his eyes once more, his expression had been schooled; he was only missing his public relations smile, which he almost never wore without an audience anyway. “If the princess wishes,” he said, and Millie knew that statement had to cause him physical pain. “But you will inform me the moment any message comes back from him.”

“Of course, sir,” Millie said, feeling like she had just narrowly escaped with her head on her shoulders.

“Send me the guest room plans,” Vox instructed. “I want to see to the arrangements myself. I don’t want another situation of Mammon and Asmodeus being placed on the same floor.” He sighed. “There will be sinners among the hired entertainment, correct?” Millie nodded. “Then we’ll have enough to deal with as far as mixed company goes without also dealing with inter-Ring feuds.”

“Yessir.” Millie looked down at the tablet again and tapped a few buttons to send a file to her boss. “I have most of th’ entertainment lined up, it just requires your finalization. Mister Valentino was, um, very involved in the selection process.”

Vox rolled his eyes again. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “Is it that fucking stripper again?”

“He’s… on the request list, yes.”

“I do not understand his obsession with that queer little prostitute,” Vox said, glancing down the list Millie had sent. “But if it gets Val off my back, I don’t care.”

Millie nodded. “Mammon also sent back confirmation for Fizzarolli t’ give at least one performance, so the largest entertainment slot’s booked. Everything else isn’t in our court right now. We’re waitin’ for responses on most of it.”

“Very well. Go ahead and check on the progress of the pavilion and let me know if there have been any delays.”

“Yessir.”

Getting out of that office was a relief, and Millie let out a massive sigh, catching her breath for just a second before heading away from Vox’s office as quickly as dignity would let her move. Without the television overlord leading the path, people didn’t just part the seas for her anymore, but Millie was small enough that flitting around their legs wasn’t too complicated.

Lucifer’s Palace was enormous, more so than she had been led to believe just seeing it from the outside. It was a misleading name; while it sounded like a residence, Lucifer’s Palace was much more like a Hell resort, and one very worthy of the Pride ring. It contained dining halls, ballrooms, a large game room, and floors and floors of deluxe suites. The Morningstar family didn’t actually live within its walls, and as a matter of fact, it had been a very long time since anyone had seen the King of Hell in any capacity whatsoever.

However, Millie couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the time that Lucifer finally entered back into the blood red sun and reinstated his position.

When Millie had first heard about this job, she hadn’t known where it would be or what exactly it was for, simply that it was a security position at VoxTek. Once she’d been accepted, however, she’d been given the details, and she had never felt more in over her head than she did right now.

It was no secret that VoxTek had recently accepted a security contract at Lucifer’s Palace, one that Vox himself was personally overseeing. It also wasn’t much of a secret that, in two months, the Palace would be hosting a large party that would be attended by the most elite entities across all the rings of Hell. Millie had been placed as the head of floor security for said event, which also made her the event coordinator working right beneath Vox.

Then she had discovered what it was: a seven day and seven night soirée for Princess Charlotte’s official debut into Hell society. There were murmurs among the staff of what this meant. Was Lucifer returning? Was he abdicating his throne to his daughter? Was he even still around? Nobody knew anything… except, of course, that it had to be perfect.

The pavilion was coming along fine, and with nothing for her to do, Millie was ecstatic about finally clocking out and getting the Heaven out of there. She didn’t want to hear anything else about parties or catering or strippers or construction for the next eight hours; she just wanted her cozy little apartment, some takeout, and a terrible horror movie before she crashed. It was already almost ten, after all, and she hadn’t even started her unwinding process yet, so she was feeling grumpy.

Despite that, Millie didn’t turn her work phone off, aware that Vox might need to get ahold of her at any time. Reluctantly, she turned the ringer on, then slipped it into her bag and pulled out her own personal phone to turn it back on. It sang a happy little tune as it powered up, followed by a tiny ding to tell her she had a voice mail. She stopped and looked at the screen, but it wasn’t a number she had in her contacts. Frowning, she tapped the message, pleading with any higher demons that might be listening that it wasn’t Chaz needing to be picked up from somewhere yet again.

Immediately, a very familiar voice filled her ears. “What up, bitch. You know who it is. Gimme a call when you get this, I’ve got something that will interest you.”

Squealing, Millie tapped the number and bounced on the balls of her feet as it rang. After a few seconds, she heard the click. “Hey, Millie-Billie!”

“Blitzø!” Millie said happily, shouldering her bag and continuing to the nearest noodle shop. “Holy shit, it’s been forever, hi!”

Blitzø laughed. “It must have been if you’ve forgotten enough about me to be excited to hear from me.”

“Oh, shut up, you negative little whore.” Millie grinned as he laughed again. “What’s up? You causin’ trouble again?”

“Not yet. Just planning it. You still living it up in Wrath?”

“Nah. I got a job in Pentagram City so I moved my ass out here. You still in Imp City?”

“Living out there, yeah, but I’m gonna be in Pentagram City tonight. You busy? I don’t really want to get into this over the phone.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Millie said, filling out a takeout card. “…wait. I mean, no, I’m not busy. This yer permanent number?”

“Nah. Still got the old one. Text me your address and I’ll stop by.”

Millie really wanted to ask why he was calling her from a different number, but she just shrugged. “Okie-dokie. I’m pickin’ up dinner and then I’ll be home. Y’want anything? It’s noodles.”

“Spring roll me, bitch.”

She grinned. “Gotcha. I’ll see you in a bit.”

•

Millie had only been home for about fifteen minutes when she heard the knock, and she launched herself over her couch, wrenching the door open and tackling Blitzø into a hug right in the hallway. “Hi!!”

“Holy fuck—!” Blitzø stumbled under the sudden affection, but he patted her head. “Okay, okay, it’s good to see you too, stop touching me.”

Millie smiled and refused to apologize as she released him. “C’mon in.” She stood out of his way and closed the door once he had passed, taking a moment to look him over. He hadn’t changed much in the year since they’d seen each other, but he looked… different, somehow, in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. “You look good,” she ventured, motioning for him to follow as she headed to the couch and sat down again.

“Do I?” Blitzø asked, sitting near her and accepting the pack of spring rolls she handed him. “Guess prison’s good for me.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake, you got arrested again?” Millie asked with a frown.

Blitzø shrugged, unconcerned. “Got out this morning. Just got back from Greed, actually.”

Her eyes widened. “You were in a Greed prison??”

“What? No. I was in Pride, I just went to Greed for a while. Visiting someone about the same thing I contacted you about, actually,” he said evasively, tossing one of the spring rolls up and snapping it whole out of the air with his tongue.

Millie frowned at him. “…you’ve been out for, like, a handful of hours and you’re already plannin’ a job.”

Blitzø frowned, licking crumbs off of his claws and speaking around the food in his mouth. “When the fuck did I get so predictable?”

“What in th’ seven rings is wrong with you?” Millie asked, exasperated. “Ain’t you got enough goin’ against you without tryin’ t’ get yourself in trouble?”

“Apparently not,” Blitzø said, giving her a bright grin. “But I have a great plan! And I think this is right up your alley.”

“Why’s that?” Millie asked suspiciously.

“I know about your new employment~”

They stared at each other for a few moments before Millie held up her index finger in his face. “No.”

“I didn’t even tell you what it is yet!”

“You don’t hafta tell me more’n you just did. No. If you know my job, you know my boss, and ain’t nobody crossin’ the Vees without endin’ up dead.” Blitzø smacked her hand out of his face and her frown deepened. “Whatever you’re doin’s gotta be dangerous. Can’t you just, I dunno, get a normal job for a while or somethin’?”

“Boring,” Blitzø said dismissively. “Come on, at least hear me out.”

Millie sighed. “…ten minutes. Go.”

Nine and a half minutes later, Millie was halfway through her dinner and listening, enraptured, as Blitzø finished his spiel. “…and we could probably get away with more than just that,” he concluded.

“You’re nuts,” Millie said, awe-struck. “Of everyone you could be robbin’, you wanna knock over Lucifer’s resort.”

“I do.”

“Knowin’ that VoxTek has set up shop there.”

“Yes.”

“And knowin’ that the place is gonna be filled with Hell’s elites while you’re tryin’ t’ pull this off.”

“Absolutely.”

Millie looked down at her half-full container of noodles, spinning some onto her fork and then continuing the rotation without lifting it. Her mind was spinning in much the same way as she considered the implications, the problems, the threats… and also how much she hated her boss and didn’t want to have to kiss anyone’s ass for a living anymore. She was an imp, so it was either a lifetime of being a sycophant… or…

“…what do you need from me?”

Immediately, Blitzø grabbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek roughly. “You are my favorite.”

Despite herself, Millie felt herself blush and giggled, shoving him away. “I damn well better be.”

“Right now, I need basics,” he said. “Guest list. Floor plans. Schedule. Anything you can tell me about the security arrangements. Things like that.”

Millie nodded, thinking. “Most of that’ll be easy to get you. I’ve got access to it, anyway. The hardest part will be figurin’ out how to keep Vox from finding out that I’m makin’ copies of ‘em.”

“You’re precious and perfect and I can’t believe you’re still single.”

Millie snorted. “I ain’t, actually. You gonna tell me who else you’ve got in on this?”

Blitzø stared at her, and she realized that changing the subject had definitely tipped him off. “You’re not.”

She groaned. “Blitzø—”

“You are not dating fucking sexual harassment shark boy again!”

“It ain’t like that! It’s fine, Chaz is better, it… it’s good, it’s fine! Really!” Millie cringed at the disbelieving look he was giving her. “…I barely see him. He ain’t exactly a taxation on my time, iffin you catch my meanin’, and this means I don’t have t’ try an’ muddle my way through a breakup that I ain’t got the time or the emotional capacity t’ handle right now. Besides, I’m serious, it really ain’t that bad.”

“Why did you start dating him again?”

“Look, you ain’t never met him. He’s very persuasive, okay? Now, enough about my love life before I start grillin’ you about—”

“Other recruits, right, got it. Fizzarolli, so far.”

Her eyes widened. “The clown?” Blitzø nodded. “Which is why you were in Greed. …you talked t’ Fizzarolli. How the actual fuck didja swing that? He ain’t exactly overburdened with free time, from what I hear, and he’s Fizzarolli.”

“We’re old friends,” Blitzø said with a loose shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal that he was on speaking (and plotting) terms with one of the biggest celebrities Hell had ever seen. “I won’t be telling everyone everything, but you’re a coordinator, so you’re going to have to know… most of it.”

Millie sighed, setting her food down. “This is heavy. Way bigger than anything else you and I did back in the day.”

“Isn’t it great?” Blitzø grinned.

She laughed. “I gotta be off my rocker if I’m agreein’ with you on that.” When she turned to him, her expression was serious again. “You ain’t just goin’ in with three of us, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Blitzø said. “I’m currently figuring out what all we’re going to need on a team.”

Millie thought. “…I’m in charge of floor security,” she said. “I don’t have authorization for a bunch of the back areas. You’re gonna need cards for that, and if you want cards, you’re gonna need a better pickpocket than you.”

Blitzø raised his finger. “First of all, that’s fucking rude. Second, I’ve got a line on that. Someone low profile by both effort and nature, don’t worry.”

She snorted. “Good, because so far you’ve got the coordinator of the event you’re crashin’ and the most famous clown Greed ever turned out besides Mammon himself. And you ain’t exactly low key yourself,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Let me handle it,” Blitzø said. “He’s a good thief that’ll probably be hard up enough to take any offer I give him.”

Millie raised an eyebrow. “You sure he’s good?”

Blitzø wiggled his own eyebrows at her. “He’s good with his hands, at least, and we love an impressionable and neurotic little twink who’s paranoid enough to keep his eyes out for any threats.”

“Shit,” she said, laughing. “Okay, fine, you have fun with that. What else do you need?”

Blitzø shrugged. “At the moment, to get the rest of my shit together.”

“Blitzø…” Millie frowned at him, but she couldn’t glare. “You sure you’re okay?”

Blitzø’s smile was as cocksure as she had seen it. “As always.”

Millie didn’t push, because it wasn’t her business, but really… that was what she was afraid of.

•••

“You wanted to see me… sir.”

Moxxie stood straight, firm, and utterly defeated in the large and imposing room. No matter how many years he was trapped in this terrible place, it never stopped having a crushing effect on him. And the imp he stood in front of, seated at his huge desk in his huge chair… Moxxie never stopped feeling so small and frightened by him, no matter how far into adulthood he got.

After a bold string of attempts to make things work—both with and without a certain jackass of a boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, depending—Moxxie had no choice but to go crawling back to his father.

Had no choice. That was a laugh. He would have had a choice, if he had ever grown a spine.

The firelight behind the desk cast Moxxie’s father into deep relief as he sat forward, elbows on his desk, hands folded together just below his chin. “That I did, boy,” Crimson said in his most loaded business voice, the one that either meant Moxxie was about to be treated like a real son or that he was about to find his own horns mounted on his father’s wall. “We had a visitor earlier this evening. I’m sure you’re aware; eavesdropping has always been a speciality of yours, hasn’t it?”

He felt a stab; not of guilt, but embarrassment. “...Yes sir,” he admitted. It was better than trying to lie to the man.

Crimson’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll get to the point. There’s going to be a party in the Pride ring a couple of months from now, at Lucifer’s Palace. All of Hell society will be attending. Mammon extended an invitation to our family as part of the representation for Greed. You’ll be coming.”

That wasn't what Moxxie was expecting. He smacked his chest with his hand. “M-me? But sir, I… I thought I was too much of a–” don't say it, don't give it power “–of an embarrassment to be seen at public functions.”

“Why do you think I’m telling you this far in advance?” Crimson asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Ever since Chazwick’s… departure, I’ve been considering how you can best mend your previous mistakes. We need more cash flow through the family. And you—” he pointed at Moxxie for emphasis, “—are going to make that happen.”

It was way too obvious what Crimson was saying, and Moxxie paled, blurting out a retort before he could stop himself. “You're trying to marry me off?!”

“No shit,” his father said, clearly communicating that he thought Moxxie was a complete moron without having to give voice to the opinion yet again. Crimson leaned back in his chair, watching Moxxie over steepled fingers. “This place will be swarming with nobles, princes, overlords, all manner of worthwhile targets. And there’s bound to be a hundred rich homos there; always is at soirées like this, and a gaudy place like that palace is bound to attract the queers.” The dig at Lucifer was clear, but left unacknowledged. “I don’t care what guy you bait, Moxxie, so long as he has money and you finish out the week at least solidly engaged.”

He felt a tightness in his throat. It was pointless to try and explain to his father what bisexual actually meant; he'd made attempts before. It never ended well. And he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on now, either. But that didn't make him any less bitter.

“Are we that hard up for cash, father?”

“Irrelevant. You haven’t been doing your part since that unfortunate incarceration of yours,” Crimson said, his face unchanged. “It seems that the only way you’re capable of providing a meaningful contribution is as a piece of ass that can bring in someone else who’ll do that job for you. And if that’s all you’re good for, it’s what you’ll do, capisce?”

Moxxie turned his face as though Crimson had physically struck him. He gritted his teeth, but even harder he gripped his palms with his clawed fingertips. They popped the leather in his fingerless gloves and pierced his skin.

“...Yes. Sir.”

“Good,” Crimson said, narrowing his eyes sharply. “Get back to your room. Look at your wardrobe. You’ll need proper clothes for seven days and seven nights of events, so figure out what you need made.” Apparently, that was the only thing he felt Moxxie needed to be concerned with.

Once, Moxxie’s room had felt like a kind of escape. There was a time he could get away with having things in it that he actually liked. When his mother was trying desperately to give him something, anything all, that brought some shred of happiness. Now, it was a stark and cold place, with only the trappings and decor Crimson approved of. Fine and expensive paintings of beautiful (female) demons, one of an overtly sexualized (male) demon was his attempt to accept Moxxie’s sexuality – for his own purposes, not for his son’s sake of course. And then there were the plaques. Many, many plaques, all empty and awaiting trophies. All, that was, but one.

Above his door was a plaque bearing a pair of imp’s horns. They didn't belong to anyone Moxxie knew, and the nameplate was left without an engraving. But he knew why they were there. The poor demon was killed for one reason and one reason only. Their horns had a familiar shape and pattern about them. Moxxie couldn't remove it. He'd tried. It was sealed there. So instead it tortured him every moment he spent in this room.

He stoked the fireplace, wincing as it sparked to life. Green hellfire was too hot, but it was the only thing that would ignite properly in the Greed Ring. The green light was so sickly and wrong. Moxxie sometimes wondered if it would burn more happily if they had a prince who actually gave a shit about any of them.

He sat on the edge of his bed, feeling the heat of the small fire even here, his hands stuffed between his knees and his hooved feet kicking sadly.

Get married. He had to get married. This was what it had come down to. Crimson had finally given up on trying to make anything tangible of his weak sad sack of a son. And what was so sickening about it all was that if he failed to find someone, to actually woo someone to marry him in just seven days, that would be it. His father would have no use for him at all.

But to imagine those who would actually want this, in such a short span of time… they were the last sort of people Moxxie wanted touching him.

His shoulders trembled. His clenched jaw couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears fell from his eyes, and once there was one, the others poured forth that much more easily.

As Moxxie cried in the only thing he could even remotely call a sanctuary, his breath caught strangely. It sounded like a distant rattling, oddly inorganic for a sob. But when he heard it again, he realized it wasn’t him; rather, it sounded like it was coming from outside the window on the other side of his room. Moxxie heard something clatter—maybe there was an animal on the trellis, it wouldn’t have been the first time—before suddenly his window was hauled open and a shadow fell through it with a heavy thud and an “Ow, fuck…!”

“What in Hell?!” Moxxie hopped to his feet, sure that Crimson had decided not to wait for the party and just have him killed now. He backed slowly to the fireplace and retrieved his rifle from where it sat snugly in a compartment beside the mantle. Hands shaking, he switched off the safety, pulled the bolt, and raised it.

“I'm armed!” he called out, careful not to raise his voice too much. “So… so don't try anything!”

“Oh, fuck my throat by way of my entire ass,” the shadow said in distinct aggravation, in a voice that was suddenly… very familiar. Moxxie could see the figure standing, and it looked distinctly imp-like, if taller than he would expect. “I’m not armed, Moxx, take a fucking benzo or something.”

The figure moved into the light, and Moxxie found himself looking at Blitzø, complete with his characteristically ‘sarcastic and unimpressed’ expression, his hands loosely held up in a perfunctory and unthreatened compliance with Moxxie’s stance. He stopped immediately out of the ring of Hellfirelight, and he stayed there.

Moxxie lowered the rifle, staring in total shock. “Blitzø? What the… why are you… what are you… how do you know where I live??”

“I got connections,” Blitzø said, giving Moxxie a lazy grin and lowering his hands. “Didn’t know this was your bedroom, but hey, looks like my intuition makes me cooler than I thought. I came to talk to you, and since I don’t have your fucking number anymore, you get me breaking in.”

Moxxie didn't set his gun down, but let it hang in one hand as he crossed the room to face his former cellmate. “Well I don't know what you want, but breaking in here is kind of really fucking stupid. Do you have any idea whose house this is?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Blitzø said, giving Moxxie a look that said ‘are you a fucking moron or something’. “It kinda came with getting the address in the first fucking place. Why do you think I didn’t knock?”

“Right. How silly of me,” Moxxie said with a flat expression, narrowing his eyes when Blitzø immediately grinned. “So what do you want to talk to me about? Make it quick or Alessio will notice something's not right.”

“Would you believe me if I said I have a desperate need for your extremely talented fingers?” Blitzø’s smile had taken on an undeniably lecherous edge as he leaned forward, just a little.

Moxxie could feel the heat in his cheeks as he hopped backward. His teeth gritted, and he tried not to freak out. And after the evening I've just had! “Th- the fuck are you talking about? I'm not– we're not–”

“Oh, fucking Heaven, your face,” Blitzø cackled, and to his very minor credit, he at least appeared to be trying to keep his voice down. “Chill the fuck out, Moxx, I wanna hire you for a job. Not for a sex thing.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” His cheeks were glowing now, that soft bluish color that his father hated so much. “What… what kind of job?”

“Y’know, standard shit. I’m planning a heist and I need someone who can lift. Specifically, and don’t let this go to your head, I need someone who can lift like you can.”

Moxxie finally stashed his rifle, folding his arms and frowning. Nothing good had ever come from his brief time spent with Blitzø. He reminded himself of that very firmly. He had to. Otherwise… it really was hard to want to say no to him. Not that I'll ever—EVER—admit that to him or anyone else.

“You're either trying to butter me up with that compliment, or it's actually not standard shit and is something that's probably going to get us both killed.”

Blitzø let out a long breath, looking upwards in that ‘okay hold up lemme think’ way that he did. “Okay. No. It’s not standard. But your part wouldn’t be anything you’ve never done before! You know, security keycards, codes, that’s all!”

Moxxie sagged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “Okay, just… When is this job supposed to go down? Because I've got kind of a… busy schedule coming up.”

“We have a while to prepare,” Blitzø said, looking at him sharply, calculating, clearly immediately interested in prying. “Couple of months.”

Immediately the math played out in his mind and Moxxie frowned, growing evasive. Somehow whatever nonsense Blitzø had in mind sounded way better than what his father was forcing him to do. “Not sure I’m gonna be of any help. I’ve got a… a pretty big commitment in two months. No getting out of it either.”

“Oh yeah?” Blitzø tilted his head, one hand on his waist. “Your dad throwing your debutante ball finally?”

He glared at the taller imp. “Cute. No, my dad’s making me–… he's gotten an invitation to an event. It's a big deal, you've probably heard about it. At Lucifer's Palace. He's demanded that I be in attendance as well. It's a weeklong thing, real fancy.”

“…no shit,” Blitzø said, his eyes widening. The next moment, one of his more manic grins cracked his face and he was suddenly in Moxxie’s space, his hands on the other imp’s cheeks and squishing his face. “Oh, fucking yes, Moxxie, that is perfect! You have an in!”

“I hav a wut now?” Moxxie said, his voice distorted into a nasally mush. His eyes widened. “Yoor wobbin Woosifur’s Bawiss??”

Blitzø made a weird, long snort-laugh low in his throat and chest. “Oh my fuck I wanna keep your face like this forever if it makes you talk like that.” Despite the fact that it really did sound like a threat, Blitzø released him. “And keep your voice down. See? It’s not a conflict at all! It might even make your whole obligation bullshit a lot more bearable!”

Despite his growing hysteria, Moxxie did lower his voice (while internally cursing Blitzø for his hypocrisy). “You are not going to rob Lucifer’s Palace, and I am certainly not going to help you get an invite!”

“Oh, I am robbing Lucifer’s palace,” Blitzø countered with a grin, putting his hands on his knees to get eye level with Moxxie. “I’ve already got people signed on, and I’ve got a meeting scheduled with a potential backer! But I can get my own invite, I’ve got plans in that regard. So come on, you’re going to be there anyway, why not have a little fun and also possibly get a massive fucking payout?”

“Because…” He crossed his arms and looked away, his expression darkening. “...Because I'm going to be… busy. My father's going to be on my ass all week.”

“Busy,” Blitzø repeated, leaning back and folding his arms. “You’re gonna be at a seven-day hedonism orgy, how ‘on your ass’ could he possibly be?”

This is a nightmare. I’m dreaming, it's just a nightmare… a nightmare from which I can never awaken. Moxxie gave his former cellmate as severe a warning look as he could. “If I agree to help you as much as I can, will you agree not to pry into my personal business?”

“…mmmmmnnnnnnrrrrrrfhghfine,” Blitzø groaned, closing one eye and rolling his head. “Fine, fine, I’ll respect your personal boundaries so hard they’ll feel like we’ve been married long enough for all the passion to go out of our relationship. That good enough for you, Moxx?”

“Ugggh you are the worst,” Moxxie snapped back. But then he sighed. There would never be a good way to describe Blitzø. Never a good way to define what nebulous thing existed between them. Not one that he'd be able to cope with contemplating. “Yeah, we're good, Blitzø. Now… now get out here before Alessio makes the late rounds.”

“Perfect.” Blitzø grinned deviously and grabbed Moxxie by the shoulders, dropping his voice into a near-comedic gravel. “Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’ll call you soon,” he said, right before he kissed Moxxie on the cheek. He then released him and hopped away to the sill before the other imp could retaliate, swinging his legs out the window. He cast Moxxie a grin over his shoulder, saluted with two fingers, and then vanished into the darkness.

Moxxie watched Blitzø’s tail whip around the glass panel, then waited several more minutes to make sure he was really gone before crossing to the window.

What the fuck am I thinking? Why did I say yes?? There's no way he's gonna pull this off, and even if he does, it's not going to make my position any easier. And if Crimson figures out I'm doing anything other than whoring myself out to some rich asshole…

His fingers curled around the windowsill so tightly they dug into the wood. Blood pushed against the tiny wounds he'd stuck into his palms and threatened to break the clot.

“I'm such an idiot!”

Moxxie growled and slammed a closed fist into the window frame, grimacing in pain at the same moment an alarm began to blare.

How the fuck did Blitzø get in without setting it off???

In moments his door flew open and Alessio charged in, tommy gun raised.

“Where's the intruder, sir?”

Moxxie sighed and slumped against the wall, too tired to freak out. “It was just me, Alessio. I ah, I bumped into the window frame.”

The familiar bodyguard shark paused, blinked a few times, then lowered his gun. “Oh. Well, that's fine, Mister Moxxie. But you gotta keep that window closed. You know how much it worries yer pop.”

“Right.”

Moxxie pulled the window shut while Alessio left him alone. He'd gone out this window a few times throughout his life, seeking an escape. That was why Crimson put such sensitive security sensors in his window. He was just a commodity, and his value was teetering on the edge of a plummet, and after that, he wouldn't be a commodity anymore. And to Crimson, anything that wasn't a commodity was a liability. His mother had become a liability. The display above his door was meant to always remind him of that.

Mom… I don't wanna do this anymore.

•••

Fizzarolli. Millie. Moxxie.

That isn’t anywhere near enough for this. Even if I can get the Radio Demon on board, there is way too much to cover.

Fuck. Who do I even know who isn’t mad at me? …or, at least, not mad at me enough to agree to talk to me?

Blitzø had always prided himself on being the kind of guy who could get what he wanted. It was a unique skill that he had—disgustingly, unfortunately—inherited from his father. Cash Buckzo was a thousand detestable things (Blitzø assumed, anyway, since he had no reason to expect the universe had done him a favor and his dad was dead), but he was also a fantastically persuasive speaker, and Blitzø had apparently taken after him in that regard.

Looking at his criminal and interpersonal record, probably in more ways than just that.

Blitzø’s sigh was labored as he trudged up the stairs towards his apartment, his mind still on how heavy Moxxie’s expression had been the entire time they’d talked. He’d known the younger imp had some home difficulties, particularly regarding family expectations and their mysterious ‘business’, but fuck, he made it sound like his father didn’t care what happened to him as long as it meant money for the family.

But what could Blitzø even say to something like that? That he was sorry Moxxie was going through something so hard? That it was bullshit, abusive, manipulative? That he knew how Moxxie felt, at least to a point? None of those things were him, not anymore.

I could offer to shoot Crimson for him. That’s pretty in character for me.

It was almost two in the morning, the trip from Greed back to Pride always feeling longer than going to Greed in the first place, but Blitzø wasn’t even positive he would be able to sleep. His mind went back to the letter that was stashed away in his desk, along with two of Stolas’ feathers and that… photograph. Whenever Blitzø found out who the fuck had sent it to him, he was going to gnaw their face off. He pressed his forehead against the wood of the door as he dug out his keys, unlocked the apartment, and let himself in. He was hungry again. There were frozen meat-of-some-kind nuggets in the kitchen. Did he have to cook them first? Would he die if he didn’t?

He was contemplating the potential consequences of putting mystery frozen meat lumps in his face hole when the front lock clicked again, and the door opened. Blitzø heard a familiar low feminine sigh, and the even more familiar sound of large paws padding over hardwood.

The door swung closed, then the walking stopped.

“Holy fuck. You're home.”

Blitzø turned around and found himself staring up at Loona. It had been optimistic of him to hope she was already asleep, he supposed. “…yeah. Hi, Loonie.”

She looked largely the same. Her huge swoop of silver hair was a bit less well kept than he remembered, and she looked really… really tired. She had a take out bag in her hand, and her old messenger bag over her shoulder. “...Hey.”

This is awkward.

Blitzø clapped his hands together once, which was supposed to alleviate the tension but just served to underscore that awkwardness. He cleared his throat. “Got released today. Er… yesterday, I guess, at this point. I thought you might be sleeping or something.”

“Oh. Yeah. I'm not.” She looked at her feet, scratched the floor a little with one claw. Then she raised her bag. “You, ah, you hungry? I got meat.”

“That’s a lot better than frozen something nuggets, yeah.”

Their apartment didn’t have a dining table of any sort—never had, mostly because they didn’t have the space, but partly because they wouldn’t have used it for anything but stacking and ignoring mail—so they ended up on the couch. Blitzø brought two beers over from the fridge and used his claw to pry the caps off. “So…” He offered one out to Loona. “How’ve you been, sweetie?”

She raised an eyebrow at him while she accepted the beer. It was definitely about the ‘sweetie’ thing. But then she just shrugged, taking a swig. “It's been whatever. Been hanging around. Working.” Her eyes darted to and from his when she said that.

“Working, huh?” Blitzø raised an eyebrow at her, putting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. “Please tell me you’re not charging less than a hundred fifty an hour, these assholes’ll try to rip you off at every opportunity.”

“I'm not a prostitute, Dad,” Loona growled, tossing a styrofoam container at him. It smelled like spiced meat that was definitely only lightly cooked.

Blitzø gasped as he caught the container with both hands, holding it to his chest. “You called me Dad!” he said with all the enthusiasm he could muster on such short notice, even as he felt a pang of guilt and unsuitability, the same as he did every time.

“You're getting meat juice on your jacket,” she said in lieu of any further complaint, opening another container as he cursed and put the container on the coffee table, using his blanket to wipe his jacket clean. Loona started picking chunks of roast out with her fingers and cramming them into her mouth. “What are you planning to do now that you're out?”

“Oh, y’know, the usual,” Blitzø said in a way he hoped wasn’t obviously evasive, opening his own container and skewering a piece of meat with his claw. “Gonna pick up some jobs here and there. Keep the cash flowing and all that fun, capitalistic shit.”

He could feel Loona squinting at him. “You already have something planned. Something… something fucking stupid.”

“What? No,” Blitzø said immediately, not making eye contact. “Come on, I haven’t even been out for twenty four hours, why would I do something stupid?”

“Because you are stupid.”

Blitzø gasped dramatically, looking at her. “That is so unfair. I have done at least four smart things in my life.”

“That so?” She smirked then, the expression unexpected and almost… soft. “Must've all been before you adopted me then, huh?”

“Adopting you was the fourth one,” Blitzø said, dropping back into his casual tone as he smirked at her. “Think the effort ate my last brain cells. So,” he skewered another piece of meat, hoping his demeanor had avoided further emotional burdening for Loona’s sake, “you gonna tell me what this sketchy work of yours is, or do I get to keep guessing? I can make it pretty outlandish, believe me.”

She sighed, but the tension was lifting. “It's not a big deal. Just playing guard dog for some courier setup. It's kinda inconsistent but it pays well… I upgraded our internet.”

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty sweet. You get to knock some heads around, protect important packages and that shit?”

“You're real good at making shit sound more fun than it actually is… So what's your big idea that's gonna get you thrown right back in prison?”

“I’m not gonna get thrown in prison, Loonie,” Blitzø said. If I fail, I’m definitely not going to live long enough to see prison. “…It’s just a basic smash and grab, and I won’t be alone. Okay? It’s nothing to stress over.”

She leaned in right up to his face, eyes glowing, and she flared her nostrils and sniffed. “I smell bullshit.”

“Buy better takeout, then?”

Her free hand—covered in sauce—was grabbing his lapel. She pulled him forward so that their noses were crushed together. “Tell me what you're doing or I'm gonna be on your ass every second of every day until I find out.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Blitzø tried his best to lean away from her, but god damn she was strong. “Okay! Okay, you win! Just— just take a couple of breaths, Loona, I’ll tell you.”

Once she sat back, still glaring daggers at him and looking ready to launch herself at him again, he began cleaning his lapel off. Gross. Meat product.

“I just got a line on someone who’s looking to pay a pretty high price on a well-protected artifact. It’s not for a couple of months, I’ve got a great plan, and it’s… just kind of a thing at Lucifer’s Palace,” he added in a quick mutter, looking up and away as he prepared to launch himself away from her if she attacked.

“What, for real?” Loona didn’t attack, she didn’t move outside of blinking her wide eyes, but then she barked out a laugh and she grinned. “Dude, you are so totally dead.”

“I’ve been doing a great job not dying so far,” Blitzø said. “Besides, I wasn’t lying about not going in alone, I’ve already got some people convinced and I’ve got a line on finances. But it’s so sweet that my widdle Woonie-Woo is so worried about me~”

She growled, but it was without heat. “I won’t have to worry about you if you let me in on it.”

“Oh. Ohoho,” Blitzø said, and it was his turn to laugh, though it was more disbelieving than her bark of dark mirth. “Oh, fuck no. You’re not coming.”

Immediately she fell into her typical teenage complaining mode, the one she still hadn’t quite grown out of. “Oh come on, I handled myself just fine in all the time you were gone! All on my own! And I wasn’t beaten or kidnapped or murdered or anything!”

“Uh-huh, you weren’t, and I’m very proud,” Blitzø said sincerely. “And at no point, when I was gone, did you attempt to rob the King of Hell. Look, Loonie,” he said, hoping to cut off any further protest (even though he knew it wouldn’t), “you want in on a job sometime… fine. You’re right, you can handle yourself, you’re old enough, but I wouldn’t start you out on this job if Asmodeus gave me his entire harem for it. Absolutely fucking not.”

“I'm so much not a kid anymore, Blitzø,” she said, punching the couch in just the way a kid would do. “You implied that you're gonna need all the help you can get, how many people do you really think you're gonna find who are actually willing to go along with this?”

“At the very least, people who’ve done more than lift a candy bar at a corner store and immediately feel a nagging sense of guilt because they think the count will be off and the cashier will get in trouble.” Blitzø sighed, putting his head in his hand. He knew he was being too harsh. He knew. “Fuck. Loona, I just— you’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m not going to be able to keep an eye on you. Nobody is. I can’t drag you into Lucifer’s Palace. I won’t drag you into Lucifer’s Palace.”

“Tch.” Loona folded her arms and looked away. She wasn't acting out, or hitting him. She looked… pensive. “...If you die I'm never forgiving you.”

“I’m not gonna die, Loonie. I promise.” Blitzø rubbed his hands together as he looked at her. “And like I said, it’s not going to be for a couple of months, okay? I also promise that I will get into minimal trouble until then.”

“You better.” Loona set the food aside. “...You, ah… you hear from anybody since you got out? Like, besides your cohorts, I mean.”

“Talked to Fizz yesterday,” Blitzø said, looking away. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then blew out a breath. How did he say ‘I wasn’t expecting anything else’ in a flippant way? “Got some pretty familiar robo-calls from Greed trying to sell us tickets to an event they had six years ago.”

Loona nodded, appearing to accept what Blitzø offered, a silent agreement to take it at face value that there were no feelings attached to anything. “Cool, cool.”

Then there was silence. Neither of them ate anymore, but neither seemed able to come up with anything else to say. The pattern settled in, the one he and Loona had been forming since he first adopted her: both of them having a multitude of thoughts and no justification to let themselves open a single one of them to the outside world, let alone to each other.

But this time, it was his daughter who broke the silence.

“...You wanna watch a movie?”

Blitzø felt that warm bubble inflate in his chest, the one that emerged out of a box labeled ‘Loona wants to spend time with you’, and he always had to metaphorically shove it down before he got too enthusiastic and she changed her mind. “Hell yeah! Whatever you’re feeling is good with me.”

She actually smiled, her lip curling in that way it did when she wasn't too self conscious, showing off her back teeth (that she always complained were too big and bulky). “Get ready to cringe then, Dad, cuz this is gonna be the lamest flick you ever saw.” She turned on the TV.

“Oh, you’re gonna have to go a long way to find something more cringe than I can handle,” Blitzø said with an excited grin, only bolstered by the fact that she called him ‘Dad’ with no sarcasm or immediate retraction. He wouldn’t point it out. It needed to stay exactly like it was: somewhere that he could remember it, and where he could never touch it, because touching it would lead to nothing but ruining it.

I’m sorry, Loona. I really am. I know how you feel, but this thing is dangerous. And I already might… He could—…

Fuck. I can’t risk losing you, too. I just can’t.

•••

Next chapter

#my writing #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #helluva blitzo #helluva millie #helluva moxxie #helluva loona #helluva crimson #hazbin vox #hellaverse fanfiction #helluva boss fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #stolitz

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blindrapture · 3 months

Text

WEDNESDAY JUNE 15TH, 2011 ("How are human minds biggest")

12:53 AM She’ll be here any minute now.

2:30 AM Kay, so she’s.. running a little late. I’m probably in for way worse pain, then.

5:14 AM ..fuck it, I’m going to sleep.

2:49 PM I dreamt of Donnie. She was walking in space. Like, walking… in space. Not on anything. Just walking. And then a door appeared. It opened for her, but I couldn’t see what was on the other end. I could just see the intense light reflecting off her beautiful face. The light was intense enough to burn her gorgeous face off. Then I was there. And she turned to look at me, without a face. And then Donnie was the slender man. Then I woke up!

3:04 PM Taking a walk to the seaside. Those are always fun.

3:56 PM Nothing’s here. I can see, like… dolphins or some other big fish out there in the far distance. But that’s it. ..wait. Music is playing from somewhere. Rolling thunder, crashing waves Present climax, start in caves How are human minds biggest When nothing does not exist? …that’s pretty weird. I just.. I mean. I’m going home.

4:33 PM ..on the way back, I got to thinking about the whole Bones mystery. I was thinking about how really odd it was that he’d come across an ocean just to buy us a super-oven from Brazil. But then I realized he didn’t buy it for us. He just showed us the receipt. He lampshaded it. The oven’s important somehow. Where’d Donnie put that receipt?

5:02 PM Found it. Yeah, sold to the restaurant down the street for an obscenely high number, the B(razilian)-4000k. That’s four-thousand-thousand. …wait, no! That’s not. “Four-thousand-thousand.” That doesn’t make sense! xD What else could “4000k” mean?

5:04 PM …I’ve got it. Four-thousand degrees Kelvin. So why would Bones give us the receipt, why would he lampshade a really hot oven? ..why would he even be here? No, Jordan. Don’t worry about that one yet. This is the motherfucking Rapture. Or apocalypse. Whatever. Anything could happen, including Bones appearing out of nowhere. Remember Ben being a tarantula in your car? Good point, well made. So, why would Bones point out an oven that can burn things at up to 4000 degrees Kelvin? Well, Bones likes to say funny-but-helpful things. Bones was always a pro at helping. He’d help out immensely in Guitar Hero, and he paid for a lot of drinks when we hung out, ‘cause I was poor. Bones is just a very helpful dude. So maybe he’s trying to help here? Maybe he’s pointing out the oven exists because I need to burn something. …this is going to be almost impossible. But then again, they said the same about “Through the Fire and Flames.” They said the same about “Satch Boogie.” They said the same about “Visions.” They said the same about “Heroes of our Time!” But was any of that? No. In fact, I think I’m going to solve this problem the exact same way I solved those problems.

10:40 PM Okay. I’m about as ready as I can get without the actually important parts of my plan in place. Now I just need to wait.

11:00 PM ..huh, there’s my black jacket. Now if only I could find my trilby and scarf.

11:11 PM I wish I’d be able to do my plan already oh my god.

11:38 PM Okay, better idea. I’m going to the marketplace.

(Attached: “I’ve turned back to the drink. This’ll get me through the rest of my story. We released Summer Sucks at a weird point in all of our lives. I don’t know the specifics for everyone else, but my parents couldn’t look at each other anymore, like they both knew something inevitable was gonna happen that they didn’t want to see. Looking back, it was obvious, but at the time I just took it as further excuse to misbehave. But there was something about that album, I think it was while recording ‘Pig Bruiser,’ and Elsie came over and smacked my drumsticks out right from my hands. She yelled at me, asked me what my problem was, why I didn’t take the band seriously enough. At the time, I put on my self-righteous smug look and tuned her right out, but even at the time I felt somehow that she was bringing up something I didn’t want to confront. I acted all aloof to her face, but when the time came for my next take, I played as passionately as I could, and now that song’s one of our fan favourites. Right, so my father. It was a suicide, death by drowning. He left no note, only these notebooks. The last page reads 'The greedy eagle runs not in society but in psychology, and it is infectious. May Queen Sea give me more than life ever did.’ The doctors all said it was a chemical imbalance, that there’s nothing we really could have done to save him. My mother changed that day, and I’ve never seen her leave the house since. She listens to our music. She’s one of the only reasons I still play.”)

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

#ogtrib #oh god the rapture is burning #ogtrib act 1

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cxnvicts · 2 years

Text

- ̗̀ะ໒⋮━ hard-to-find hurt / comfort starters // open prompts 「 @unxshackled 」 sent: “just go. you can still make it. don’t worry about me.”

This again. People are always telling her to go on ahead. To save herself while they leave themselves in danger. It’s annoying. Irritating. And K.K.’s bottom lip almost cuts and bleeds from the pressure of her teeth. ❝ And YOU can make it too! ❞ She doesn’t mean to yell. Doesn’t mean to let her frustrations get the best of her, but that’s something she’ll have to apologize for later as she grabs Lisa’s arm and tugs it. ❝ You can still run, yes? Then run with me, or else I’m just going to drag you along. I’m not leaving you behind. ❞

She’ll have to complain to the chief about this later. Raise her voice, even, and question them on why this supposed simple dispatch work of theirs had resulted to Syndican thugs pointing their guns at them, shooting without even a moment’s hesitation. ❝ Simple warehouse investigation my ass, nothing about this simple. ❞ She should’ve known what was coming after having seen all of those fake golds and whatnot lined up along the warehouse’s walls. The chief did mention something along the lines of the auction house’s expensive items being replaced with replicas, after all.

❝ Still, ❞ the bruiser clicks her tongue. They’re not even running at this point but rather, half-jogging their way out. Lucky they seem to have quite the distance between themselves and the thugs. ❝ Just why did chief assign a princess like you for this, Miss? You don’t seem to be the fighting type. Rather, can’t youーI don’t know... Do something with whatever power you have? ❞

A distant “They’re over here!” from one of the thugs and K.K. lets out the loudest of sighs yet. ❝ Please tell me you can fight. ❞

#「 dispatch: answered prompts. 」#unxshackled #╰ * 𝑲.𝑲. ： in character.

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juliafied · 3 years

Note

"but if i don't have you, i don't have anyone. and you promised that wouldn't happen." for Silco and Jinx please 👀

Thanks for the prompt!! :D It was interesting to explore what Jinx and Silco's relationship would have been like during the time jump. I like to imagine that he would have been very protective and reluctant to leave her alone in the first few years, leading to a lot of codependency.

AO3

It's the first time he's leaving her alone, since—

Since she left.

There’s no bruise left to smart on her cheekbone, but Jinx – that’s her name now, Powder is dead in the rubble of the old fish market, like Silco always says – rubs a chipped-polish thumbnail over the place where Vi’s fist connected, years ago.

The familiar itch she can’t seem to scratch tingles at the base of her neck, and she flicks the tip of a braid against the wooden planks of the ceiling above her.

Sevika will be around, which is gross, but he’ll be gone.

Two weeks, no longer, to negotiate some deal with suppliers across the sea. She’d already said goodbye, and he’d promised – but Jinx had seen him talking quietly to the bruisers. It’ll be dangerous, she knows it, and she tastes acid when she thinks of the last time she was left behind. She blinks, bites her cheek as the high-pitched whine fills her ears, the one that’ll slowly turn into their names, if she lets it.

Not-quite quiet, perforated as it is by the ever-present thumping bassline that forms the heartbeat of the club, takes over once again.

Before she can finish her deep breath, the door to Silco’s office bursts open.

“Jinx!”

She grins, swinging her legs over the side of the rafter and dropping down, braids flying behind her. She knew he’d want to see her one more time.

“Jinx, it’s time.” He seems to hesitate, a paper that Jinx had rifled through earlier dangling from his fingers, both orange and blue eyes narrowed.

She snatches another paper off the desk, glancing over it. “You should be careful. As gross as Sevika is, she’s good to have in a fight,” Jinx says, nodding wisely at something that might be a shipping manifest. “You’ll be weaker without her.”

“She’ll be here, keeping you safe.” Silco’s tone enters lecturing territory, and Jinx scowls.

“I can keep myself safe!”

He peers at her for another moment and sighs. “I know you can. You’re strong. Sevika will handle the streets, and you’ll take care of The Last Drop. Like we discussed.”

The Last Drop. It’s different, better than when she was a kid, no longer so boring. Now there’re lights and the kind of music she likes and when she walks through the door, everybody stops to look, but not for too long. They respect her.

All thanks to Silco.

So she nods, trying in vain to keep the pout off her lips. Silco smiles and opens his arms. She drops the shipping manifest, sinks into him, warmed by the familiar smell of hair gel and cigarettes and the chemical scent none of them can seem to get out of their clothes. He grips her shoulders tightly.

“If I don’t have you, I don’t have anyone,” she finds herself saying, chin on his shoulder. “And you promised that wouldn’t happen.”

Silco chuckles, chest vibrating against her shoulder. “It won’t, Jinx. Two weeks.”

She won’t cry, she won’t. The last of his smell lingers on her cheek after he leaves.

Feel free to send me more Arcane found family prompts! ❤️

#julia writes #jinx & silco #jinx #silco #jinx and silco #arcane #arcane fanfiction #prompt fill

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rhiawriter · 2 years

Text

The Cigarette

Rory leans in to kiss him, and Jess regrets the cigarette in his hand. He knows she doesn’t like that he smokes. He hopes the taste doesn’t bother her too much. She tastes like toothpaste, and still a little bit like coffee, and all like Rory. He tangles one hand in her hair and with the other moves to flick away his cigarette, but she plucks it out of his hand, and pulls back from the kiss.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it felt like to smoke one of these.” Rory pulls her legs off the bridge and crosses them in front of her.

“No you haven’t.” Jess moves to face her, as she inspects the cigarette like it’s a challenge she would like to overcome. “They’re bad for you.”

“Well you smoke them,” Rory says.

“That’s because I have no self-preservation.”

“And Joni Mitchell smokes them, and Patti Smith and all the cool old movie stars like Ava Gardner and Ingrid Bergman.”

“Rory, come on.” Jess is starting to feel anxious. Rory’s usually so predictable. Springtime Rory is putting him on edge. “You’re always telling me how bad they are for you.”

“So I just put this to my lips?” Rory brings the cigarette up close to her mouth, but not in it. “And I suck on it and then inhale.”

All the air seems to have left Jess’s own lungs. At the word “suck” his cock has gone from half hard to fully erect. “That’s the general concept.”

“Huh.” Rory puts the cigarette between her lips and looks up at him in a way that is both innocent and mischievous. He’s caught–his eyes trapped by the sight of her lips sucking on his cigarette. They kiss all the time, so the thought of Rory’s lips wrapped around something he’s touched shouldn’t be quite so arousing, but it is. Everything that Rory does turns him on. She takes a drag, in a studied sort of way, and tries to hold it in. Her whole body is tense. And then she starts to cough and smoke comes out of her nose and mouth, and it’s not very graceful, but it is fucking hot.

“Ok, that’s pretty gross,” Rory says. “I like it better tasting it on you.”

“Well throw it out then,” Jess says, trying to ignore the shiver down his spine at her suggestive words. “I was about to put it out anyway.”

“Let me try one more drag.” Rory puts the cigarette to her lips again, and now Jess’s mind is completely in the gutter. He can’t help but imagine those lips around something bigger. Their fumbling has progressed in recent weeks, and Rory’s made him come with her hands in the back seat of his car. She’s said she wants to try going down on him, but she’s worried that she’ll be bad at it. He knows that’s impossible, and watching her suck on a cigarette confirms for him that those lips will do just fine wherever they end up.

But even as he imagines all the places she could put her mouth besides a cigarette, he also has the most ludicrous image in his mind: Rory dressed up like Sandy from Grease in a leather jacket and hoop earrings. It’s a stupid thought. What a dumb movie, but it was one of the only ones that his mom had on VHS, and the storyline of the innocent girl changing herself for the bruiser is now flickering through his mind, and making him feel horribly anxious. He doesn’t want to corrupt Rory.

He snatches the cigarette out of her mouth and throws it in the pond.

“Hey!” Rory shouts. There’s laughter in her eyes, but some anger too. “I was smoking that.”

Read the full one-shot on AO3.

#literati #gilmore girls fic #rory x jess #rory gilmore #jess mariano #The Cigarette #s3 one shot

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jonthethinker · 4 years

Text

I want to talk about Beau. Because Episode 108 made it very clear to me personally why Marisha is my favorite actor on Critical Role.

One of my favorite things about how Marisha plays is that she is an incredibly selfless role player. She will go out of her way to give other players at the table a chance to unpack and roll out their feelings to both cement in their own heads what those feelings are, and to share those feelings with the other players/actors at the table to give them a better understanding of those characters.

And it’s not just that, but it’s also how she uses these moments, where the focus isn’t even on her, and many times isn’t even split 50/50 between them, to subtlety showcase where Beau’s head is at, and where Beau is comfortable letting others feel her head is at. Because Beau is both full of love and tenderness for the Mighty Nein and also a liar deep in her bones. This is the reason I think even the cast seems to talk about Beau likes she’s still the same shit-kicker we met a 108 episodes ago and not the woman we’ve seen grow and mature over the course of this show; because at the table those moments aren’t about Beau, and so the players don’t focus on her.

To the audience, however, watching intently, the dimensions she adds to those moments are much easier to notice, especially over time. You, the adamant Beau fan, see the patterns where as someone in the moment playing the game couldn’t really pick up on it unless they were looking for it. And as a player, you’re not always going to look for it. But it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

Marisha uses moments almost entirely about other characters to give us the audience a clearer understanding of her own character. Even in the moments where she is vulnerable and reveals something about herself directly, it almost always serves the double-function of both revealing a truth about her and opening up whomever she is speaking to to being vulnerable themselves. The purpose is almost never to solely focus on herself but to crack the other player’s egg. I personally like to think of these moments as Beau going, “What, are you gonna make me be all fucking mushy all by self?”

This attitude of selfless role-play seems to even extend beyond individual scenes into the overall direction of the story and plot itself. Beau and Caleb are the only player characters currently alive not to have some overarching story with them at the center. Jester just had Traveler Con. Fjord had the Pirate Arc and the Star Razor. Caduceus had the healing of the Blooming Grove. Veth/Nott the recovery of her husband and her body. Yasha had Obann. Caleb is looking to start his fight to challenge the Assembly, and even Molly at least currently appears to be linked to the Living City in someway. But Beau is sort of adrift in terms of the plot.

(We did have the trip to Kamordah, but I see this more as a part of the plot to recover Veth’s body; Beau wouldn’t have ever gone there if she didn’t think it would help Nott become a halfling again. I’m specifically talking about moments where the characters themselves center their own narratives in the plot, not just as a function to further someone else’s story.)

But like in her role-playing, Marisha uses these moments to define her character without making it all about her. For instance, she used Traveler Con to showcase her protectiveness of Jester and her distrust of Artagan. She used her time at sea to throw herself with vigor into being the first mate and developed a love of the sea. She used Veth’s potential return to her body to explore her own feelings about the impermanence of the Mighty Nein and how that scared the holy hell out of her. She tossed and turned listening for storms for Yasha. As Caduceus saves his family, she’s still reeling from the ordeal with the Hag, and is temporarily back to being all sharp edges again. And I’m sure she’ll use Caleb’s arc as an opportunity for more subtle character work as well.

Beauregard Lionett is a brash, abrasive bruiser; she’s an astute, curious researcher with keen eyes and sharp insight; She knows what it’s like to have no agency, and will passionately make sure other people get to keep theirs; she’s a liar, and terribly insecure about her own worth; she’s been lonely her whole life until the Nein came along, and certain she’ll be alone again any day now; She’s desperate for purpose, and looking hard for where she fits, IF she fits anywhere that is; She’s been in love with two wonderful women in recent times, and her refusal to believe either of them could love her as deeply as she does them will surely break someone’s heart long before any of their hearts get made whole again; She feels she’s on a crashing plane, and she’d rather pilot that plane right into the ground and have some control than risk parachuting out to uncertainty.

And we learned the vast majority of these things because of Marisha’s subtle acting and careful, selfless role-play. From reading the spaces as well as the words, listening to the silences as well as the sounds. It’s not just about crashing waves, but about the water slowly being pushed and pulled by the tides.

And for me, it’s the reason Beauregard Lionett is my favorite character ever.

#Critical Role #Beauregard Lionett #Cr Spoilers #Long Post #Cr Meta #Marisha Ray

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razorblade180 · 4 years

Text

Attitude adjustment

Yang:*bowing* I’m sorry.

Principal:Mrs. Xiao Long, this this third time your daughter has been apart of fight at school and I must make it clear there will not be a fourth. Any more incidents and she’ll be-

Yang:Expelled, I know. I just....*sigh* I’m trying everything over here. I worked things out with the other students’ parents where I’ll write apologies out and believe me when I say I am not happy about this whatsoever. All I’m asking is you don’t hold her back a year and give her extra time on the late assignment.

Teacher:And why would we give special treatment to the most problematic child in Menagerie? Surly you don’t believe Veronica Belladonna deserves special treat-

Yang:*claps hands together* Please......

Principal:......

Nine year old Veronica Belladonna sits in chair outside the office, kicking her feet. Her nose crinkles up along with the bandage on it from soreness. Annoying or not, her classmates were heavy handed like nobodies business. Yang finally walked out office, taking Veronica by the arm and dragging her away.

Veronica:Ow! That’s tight!

Yang:Good. Do you like me coming up here? Were daily phone calls from teachers about disruptive behavior not enough? Veronica they want you kicked out.

Veronica:Yeah I heard.

Yang:Then I expect you to act like that’s a big deal and shape up!

Veronica:I don’t give a damn!

Yang:Hey! Watch your fu- oooo don’t swear at me. Don’t swear at all! Work with me here.

Veronica:There’s nothing to work.

Yang:Kid, your attitude needs serious working on. I know that you know that you can not just go around picking fights and hurting people.

Veronica:And if they wanted a fight!?

Yang:Never give it to them. You know that.

Veronica:That’s unfair! It’s all their fault. Mom would understand! I want her right now!

Yang:Blake is working!

Veronica:Uuuuuugggggghhhhh!

Yang:Yeah well the feelings mutual right now. You know what, you’re grounded.

Veronica:For what!?

Yang:*red eyes* Fighting! For a week you will come straight home from school and go right to your room! No tv, free time, grandparents house-

Veronica:But grandpa and grandma were gonna teach me to surf!

Yang:Well I guess you’ll just have to learn another time. Learn to behave like a good girl before anything else.

Veronica:*tearing up*........I hate you.

Yang stopped dead in her tracks. She looked back to see Veronica in tears, her ears folded back and tail rigid. The girl kept tugging and struggling from Yang’s grip, all but flailing as a means to escape. Yang remembered being a kid. She remembered throwing tantrums so violent that it must’ve wore her dad out. She remembered saying she hated him too. Being on the opposite end, that really put things in perspective. Despite her best efforts, Yang could tell she was shedding a few tears.

Veronica stopped her struggles the moment a tear drop hit her hand. Suddenly, the fight in her left. Her ears dropped down with her tail. Now she had another reason to leave. Guilt. Her arm jerked as a reflex. What should’ve been in vain wasn’t. Veronica thought her words had made her mother loosen her grip. That was until she saw her wrist actually pass through Yang’s fingers. In shock, she looked at her mother in equal confusion.

Yang:.....Did you just....?

Veronica:Ma, I.....

Afraid of her own words, Veronica ran. She ran as fast as she could with tears blurring her vision. Yang watched in disbelief for a moment before running after her.

Yang:Veronica!

Veronica:Just leave me alone!

Yang:No! You just used your semblance!

Veronica:So what!?

Yang:We don’t know how it works! You could hurt yourself!

Veronica:Why would you care!? I said that I hated you!

Yang:And!? That’s a one way street. I don’t hate you, and I know you don’t actually hate me; even if you said it.

Veronica:You’re lying! I know you hate me. I’m different from you! Humans hate faunus! It doesn’t matter that I’m your daughter!

Yang:Who told you that!?

Veronica:The students!!!

Veronica wasn’t paying a attention and tripped into the road. Her eyes locked eyes with a cyclist struggling to stop. Veronica braced for impact when she suddenly felt Yang yank her out of the way and into her arms. The little girl was a little shaken. So much in fact that her nails slightly dug into Yang.

Veronica:Ma, I...I-

Yang:What else did they say to you?

Veronica:.......*shivering*

Veronica:Our family would fall apart, and you’d leave me. Because that’s what humans do. We don’t get along; you just pretend to love me. I said they were wrong, but they just kept pointing. Laughing at me. I....I knew they were lying but...I just can’t stop thinking about it! *hugging her* I don’t want you to hate me!

Yang:......

xxxxx

Teacher:*typing*

Yang:*opens door* Teach, let’s talk.

Teacher:Mrs. Xiao Long!? Why are you-

Yang:So is there any good reason when I was here the first time nothing was mentioned about the kids telling my daughter that her family will fall apart because I’m a human and I can’t love my kid?

Teacher:Wh-What!? I...I was unaware of-

Yang:Really!? Are you really about to tell me that in your own classroom, you had no clue what was said? Not a single clue? Because unless my daughter is a liar, which she isn’t, you didn’t do shit about it.

Teacher:That’s ridiculous!

Yang:That’s what I want believe too. Because you know, it’s one thing for a kid to act like a kid and say something stupid. It’s an entire different thing if an adult in charge heard such a thing and didn’t intervene because oh I don’t know, their not particularly fond of humans either?

Teacher:....

Yang:Now I know that can’t be the case since an adult in charge of creating safe spaces wouldn’t actively let their own bias affect children; especially the child of a human. If that adult did have problems then they would no doubt say it to that human’s face and not take out any grievances on a actual child, right? Unless they’re too pathetic and scared to be an actual adult?

Teacher:....Is there anything else you’d like to bring to my attention?

Yang:To you, no. But I’ll be sure to mention this possibility to your boss, and let the parents know I will not be sending apology letters and instead be notifying them on what went on in this classroom. Oh yeah, and I may or may not bring this up later tonight to my wife. You know, the activist?

Teacher:........

Yang:Still nothing to say huh? Fine by me. Actually, it’s also fine if you never speak to me or my daughter ever again; since you’re obviously so good at that. Don’t even bother with the assignments. I’m thinking it would be best if Veronica took a step back and we’ll find a different class for her. Maybe even a school? You just keep worrying about anything else. *walks away*

Teacher:.........This job is all I have.

Yang:Yeah, don’t give a damn. *closes door*

The blonde bruiser took a breath to calm herself down. She looked over to see her child still wiping her face. Without a second thought, Yang put Veronica back in her arms and kept walking

Yang:Did you hear all of that?

Veronica:Maybe.....

Yang:Good. Now you know just how serious I am about you. And look, I didn’t hit her once.

Veronica:You should’ve.

Yang:Oh I wanted to, believe me. But that does nothing but make more problems sometimes. Listen here, those kids were jerks. Still, I need you to try really hard to keep calm and if nobody around feels helpful, just remember you’re coming home to me and mommy. We’re always gonna raise a little hell for you. Hate to break it to you but you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. *kisses her cheek* Never.

Veronica:*sniffles* I’m sorry I made you cry.

Yang:I’m sorry I just got upset without letting you explain yourself. That was bad.

Veronica:We both need working on. Am I still grounded?

Yang:Hmmmmmm noooooo. Gods, I’m too soft. We need to find you a good outlet. How about you spend some time with me after surfing and I’ll teach ya some cool moves. Just in case you actually need to hit something. Sound good.

Veronica:*red* I guess we can spend time together. *purring* If you want to so badly.

Yang:Hehe, I love you.

Veronica:....I love you too.

#rwby #bumblby #rwbabies #yang xiao long #veronica belladonna #rwby twin snowflakes

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ivyprism · 3 years

Note

How the dudes are with isla:

Snipe: since ace has girlfriend loyalty and all that jazz to worry about, snipe gets to play spy for once. He’s very friendly whenever he and isla are alone, and plays the neutral party with others. Snipe can’t wait to ruin her life with everything he’s found out ;)

Bruiser: before knowing her, he probably would’ve thought she was cool and attractive. After knowing her, he would want to throw hands after about a min or so lol

Ace: he’s creepily nice to her. In fact he probably scares her with how he seems to be able to see right through her

Slim: run on sight lol

Butch: he’s just itching for an excuse to throw hands. If she’s smart and believes his reputation, she’ll avoid him at all costs

Boss: this man has zero patience for isla. Every conversation they’ll ever have will become a verbal battle

Madame: there is the fact that she’s a member of another mafia. And Madame may be second in command, but it’s on the down low. Most people think she’s just Dons eye candy. Madame will be like snipe. Friendly but always waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Madame focuses more on making isla look bad to her own mafia. She started disliking her when she tried to seduce her sons, that were already taken

Don: isla wouldn’t dare to insult him. Not when her own mafia is desperate for a good relationship with Don. And yes, he does love the power that gives him.

As for me personally. Yes she’s a terrible person, bit I am really curious to see more about her character, like why she makes those decisions. It’s like my mafia gaster roulette. Yes he made horrible decisions, but there was a reason behind that. Was it a good reason? No lol. But it makes his character more than just the villain

YASSS QUEEN. Ma'am, can I marry Madame and Don? I would happily marry them.

Also, the reason Isla is like this? She doesn't know any better. She grew up in an abusive home until her mother left her father. She was the one who saw daddy cheating on her mom more than anyone else. She believes it's how you show love to your family. She believed abandoning her family was good for them because daddy left too. She had wayyyy too much admiration for the mafia so she tried to start making her own. She started by trying to make Ivy the perfect "Butcher".

She also is just really twisted and never wanted kids. All of her children were accidental and she carried them to term to toss them aside. She does want a relationship with them, but some bridges can't be fixed and she doesn't want to be better.

She also romanticizes the mafia and control. She is extremely mentally ill and she hates when things are out of her control.

-H

#anon asks

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simonrriley · 4 years

Note

No one: \|/ Me: Ok but what if Mouse was afraid that when King starts dating Spot and Bruiser that she’ll always be second best to them and never his first for anything anymore-

NOOOOO

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dailyfantastic · 4 years

Text

IT’S ONLY FOREVER: THE ETERNALS RECAP PART 5

NOT BACK ON IT, STILL ON IT: THE ETERNALS ISSUE 5

Have you missed an installment of It’s Only Forever? Click here!

Did you know: in the United Kingdom, the game most of us know as Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots was originally released as Raving Bonkers?

I’m starting this installment of It’s Only Forever by telling you this because I want to ensure the next fact I tell you isn’t the wildest Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots fact you learn today.

Because here is another fact: in Olympia, the futuristic city the Eternals call home, the Eternals use all their infinite wisdom and power to play giant Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots.

Depicted: proof that the Eternals love fads

This is hardly an exaggeration. The robot boxers are controlled with little joysticks and are red and blue. The Eternals call them Auto-Boxers, but we all know what’s going on. This comic came out 12 or so years after the popular toy was released, and that toy was a best seller for years, so I find it hard to believe Jack Kirby could have been completely unaware of the game’s existence.

This piece of lore is not really dealt with, but it is lore. I bring this up because A) I am now treating it as essential canon that must be in all adaptations of the Eternals and 2) this issue is back to being about lore again...

I can’t stress enough that I personally love lore, but surely this is not the best way to dole out superhero action. I don’t know enough about what was going on at Marvel at the time (I hear that editorial was not fond of the Eternals, which we’ll discuss more later in the run). But I do know that this is a great example of a comic that could have used more editorial oversight.

You see, Jack Kirby was his own editor on The Eternals. This sounds great at first, but let’s be honest: no one should have to edit their own work, especially not when you have a tight deadline and you’re also doing the art and the writing. Archie Goodwin was apparently involved in the editing process, but it seems very likely that a lot of the editing work fell on Kirby. Why wouldn’t they? As has been established, this comic isn’t a part of the Marvel Universe. So it’s not like we need a Weezie Simonson to keep the lines consistent.

And as a result, we get a lot of extremely lore heavy issues back-to-back-to-back. We also get a lot of weird inconsistencies. Sersi’s name is spelled Sersy for the entirety of Issue 3. In this issue, Sersi calls Margo “Carol.”

Depicted: perhaps this is just Sersi asserting her dominance by pretending to forget Margo’s name

And in the end, in part because of a lack of oversight, we get yet another issue where very little happens. Sersi and Margo get kidnapped and Sersi tries to escape, only to be forced to submit to save Margo’s life. This is exciting, but brief. Earlier, Sersi calls Olympia for help, summoning Makarri and Thena, who won’t affect the plot for another issue.

But we don’t even see much of Olympia. I can’t tell you a single fact about it other than, yeah, they play Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots there.

What we do learn about is characters, so let me take some time to introduce you to the four that will determine the fate of the world.

Makkari: He wears red and loves fast vehicles and levitating. Humans misheard his name as Mercury, do you get it??? Of all the adult Eternals, we’re told he’s the most childish. We know he has a flying machine that can travel at the speed of light, which he and Thena to get from Olympia (presumably near Greece) to New York. This means that he and Thena take about 0.0000069 seconds to get to their destination and they probably destroy everything in their flightpath.

In the film, Makkari will be played by Lauren Ridloff, who is a woman, Afro-Latina, and deaf. This is an amazing swerve and brings some much needed representation to the MCU. Makkari is technically one of the most important characters in this series! Likewise, in the upcoming Eternals comic series from Gillen and Ribić, Makkari appears to be a woman with fairly dark skin.

The fact that you have not heard horrible people complaining about this on the Internet via bad faith arguments tells you just how little anyone other than me cares about the Eternals.

Zuras: He is the leader of the Eternals, and as such is the wisest and most powerful. He’s kind of like Odin if Odin lost at Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots more often and had red hair everywhere that made him look half wizened and half like a sasquatch. When Zuras gets mad, he shoots lightning everywhere, which I guess means he’s supposed to be Zeus, but Zeus doesn’t really sound that much like Zuras.

By all accounts, Zuras, King of the Eternals, is Sir Not Appearing In This Film.

Thena: Zuras’s only daughter is quick-witted and hot-headed, kind of like Sersi if Sersi were a super strong bruiser and significantly less flirty. Presumably, she inspired our legends of Athena, or I guess maybe the theistic concept of gods in general, or alternatively The Nanny. She’s always getting one-up over her father and friends, is absolutely more narratively-important than he is, and in general is extremely cool--by far my second favorite Eternal.

In the upcoming film, Thena will be played by Angelina Jolie, which makes me believe she’ll be an incredibly prominent role. I am somehow completely devoid of opinions about Angelina Jolie so, I dunno anything else?

Domo: Domo is featured on the cover of this issue, where we’re told he’s important. I cannot tell you a single notable thing about Domo. He’s basically like mission control or maybe a guard for the Eternals, and tells Makkari to be less rash. I don’t believe he ever does anything important in this series and I don’t believe he’s appearing in the movie either.

Anyway, so now you’re caught up on all the lore. Writing it down now, I’m realizing that it’s somehow too much and also not enough? As we’ve discussed, these characters are pretty broadly drawn. It shouldn’t take so long to introduce us to these basic archetypes. But it would surely be more interesting if we learned more about the characters? We’re five issues in and no one is well-rounded, but also no real superhero combat has happened. It’s a weird push and pull, and I wish someone would have untangled it.

Like it or not, we’re still on the lore train.

And coming next time: What’s the best title a Marvel comic ever had? I’d argue it’s GODS AND MEN AT CITY COLLEGE! Which is this issue!

#the eternals #eternals #it's only forever #mcu #marvel #thena #makkari #domo #zuras #sersi #eternals 5

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onlykyloscenes · 5 years

Text

Don’t Look For Me: Chapter One

AO3 : Prelude

Summary: “I know that saber. It’s a split saber; only it’s missing a piece. Yes, I know that saber, and I know who it belongs to,” he paused before saying your name. Your real name.

He took long, slow strides, swinging the club in his hands as he went on, “so, that can't be the saber I'm remembering. Because you’re Jissani Pashol!” His voice mimicked the announced that cheered for your defeat earlier.

"And," he said your name again, as if it was a question, "well she’s chained up in my ship,” he huffed out a laugh, “imagine that.”

Word count: 3372

Warning: violence, death

A/N: hope you all enjoy, and I hope the reveal is clear! Writing combat is... difficult. There will be kylo x reader interaction in the next chapter, it’s coming! Feedback is always welcome!

“Round 6, JISSANI!”

The crowd surrounding you on every possible side erupted as a reprogrammed protocol droid hoisted your arm in the air as far as it would go with you doubled over at the waist. By the time you got out of this mess, you would consider stripping it for parts.

Not that the situation you found yourself in was the fault of the droid, you did that on your own. You knew these crime syndicates obsessed over their money and deals, but not enough to sick bounty hunter after bounty hunter on you. It had been 4 months since the last one, and you let your guard slip. Fortunately, there was a caveat in your favor. You weren’t just some random syndicate bruiser, no, you had value. Once upon a time, you served as an assassin for Sal Brurick, the leader of the syndicate.

It was good pay, and the work came a little too naturally to you. But no matter how good the pay is, what’s the point if there are limits to what you can buy, let alone what you can do or where you can go. So when you heard whispers that Sal was in the market for a new assassin, you had to run. After all, you get to know someone’s deepest secrets when you’re the one making sure those secrets stay buried. That, combined with stolen credits, stolen spice, and a few other stolen valuables put you high on the bounty list.

Once you were scratched off the list, you ended up six rounds in fighting for your- well you weren’t entirely sure what you were fighting for. Your life, definitely, but if they wanted to kill you they sure were taking their time. These gladiator fights are just one of the ways the syndicate makes their money, and the crowd they drew was dripping in credits. You wondered in round one if anyone had placed a bet on you. You couldn't have many enemies in the crowd. Regardless, that was five opponents and a whole world of pain ago; you hoped whoever did bet on you had cashed in already. There was no way you’d make it six mores rounds, maybe not even two.

Your ears rang, muffling the roars of the crowd and the whining of the announcer’s speakers. It was a miracle you weren’t seeing double, though you could barely raise your head to look in front of you.

“Next combatant, Dzuma! Place your final bets now, I’m not sure how much longer she’ll last!” The quip came from the same announcer who predicted you’d get spaced in the second round.

One of the only rules followed in the rings was that you couldn’t use a signature weapon, the unfamiliarity making the fights more feral. The choices were slim in the hanger they kept you in before you could walk out. You settled for an old Separatist electro staff. Not your first pick, but it can land some of the largest guys on their backs if you know where to strike.

Your opponent, Dzuma, made a bold choice. From afar you could tell he would easily tower over you, and his chosen weapon told you he would try to use that to his advantage. He walked into the ring using a tall battle hammer as a walking stick. It looked heavy, easy to dodge, hard to strike from the front. You tried to steady yourself, bracing your hands on your knees before standing tall.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the fight, and he charged. You took your time and tried to get a few deep breaths in before you had to roll to the right, the hammer shaking the ground as it struck nothing. The electro staff came to life as you rose, spinning to face Dzuma. You struck twice quickly, one end of the staff connecting with his elbow, the other end meeting the hilt of his hammer.

He arched the hammer down, locking it with the center of your staff when you raised it to block. With the head of the hammer lodged over your staff, a forceful pull sent you a few feet away and onto your stomach. You didn’t have time to wonder where your staff had landed, you barely had time to flip over before Duzma swung again.

He swung the hammer underhanded, aiming for your head. It was a blow that would have surely ended the fight had you not raised both arms to absorb the impact. Your right arm and vambraces took the most damage, the pain dimmed by the sudden rush of adrenaline. By chance had been knocked further back, landing on the dormant electro staff. This time, when the hammer came down, you dodged and let it pound into the ground again. It landed on the clawed end and stuck for a moment.

Long enough for you to land a kick to one of his kneecaps. It gave, sending him down to a crouch. Before he got the chance to retaliate, you lunged to grip the hammer yourself. With two sets of hands firmly against the skinny handle, you got ahead and jumped backward so that you were standing behind Duzma. The hammer's long handle caught on his neck and you shifted all of your weight back, cutting off his airway. He struggled, but his hands were in no position to gain back the upper hand, and he had no way to get a proper footing.

You pulled further, arms quaking in the struggle. Slowly your hearing came into a slighter focus. You could hear the crowd raging, the announcer in disbelief. You could hear Duzma gurgling and knew you didn’t need much longer. Only a few more moments.

You didn’t hear any of the blasts, but you felt the waves of vibrations they sent. You counted three spread around the circular arena. The hammer fumbled in your grasp, sending you and Duzma crashing to the ground. You both gasped for breath and searched aimlessly for your composure. It took too long to gather yourself, and find your feet again.

There was something about the response from the crowd. If your hearing had returned, it was gone again, all three blasts rang in your ears endlessly. By the look of the damage, the blasts came from thermal detonators. Flames emerged from the three gaping holes where spectators once sat cheering at the carnage you had faced for nearly an hour. If the initial blast didn’t send those who were left scrambling, the fires did. Their screams slowly pierced the ringing of your ears, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t react just yet. Your eyes drifted from the crowd to the gallery boxes seated too high to the detonators to reach. They were empty; Sal would have been rushed out the moment one of his bodies heard the blast. Now was your chance to run.

Movement next to you grabbed your attention. Duzma found the strength to rise to his feet. You were horrified at the sight of him, the sight of the damage you caused. His neck was already bruised purple, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of oxygen. The defeat in his eyes dissipated to fear as his head lifted to look up.

Your movements were slowed from exhaustion, your body threatening to shut down that very moment. Something told you, you needed to move. You needed to get to your droid and get to your ship. Most importantly, you needed your lightsaber. Looking up, your gut was right. You suddenly knew why three thermal detonators went off in an amphitheater full of syndicate members.

Hovering above the arena was a ship you were all too familiar with. Dark smoke plummed from the engines as it slowly landed in the arena. Two cloaked figures emerged from the opened hatch and made the short hop onto the dirt.

“Go,” you spoke to Duzma but he stood frozen, “now, go!”

He looked as if an invisible force shook him in his place. He turned quickly and headed for the nearest exit not engulfed in flames.

Turning to face the two saboteurs, you caught the familiar buzz of your droid floating nearby, waiting. You raised your arm and caught the saber that fell from the sky, giving it a quick flourish in your hand before igniting the blade. If they knew where you were, that means they couldn’t know where she is. Concealing your identity didn't matter when you were about to go head to head with two Knights of Ren.

Ren.

You pushed the name to the back of your mind and focused.

As the two approached, you put a name to one of the helmets. The other was foreign to you, “you’re new.”

The anonymous Knight tilted their head to the side in a way that made your body tense. They unsheathed a staff from behind her back, both ends sharpened to a point.

“That’s never a good sign,” you spoke under your breath before turning your attention to the Knight you did recognize, Ushar.

He spoke first, “that saber looks familiar. Don’t see those lying around in any pawn shop, so when I do get a look at one, it’s hard to forget.”

You wished he would get on with it. But if Ushar liked anything more than setting off bombs, it was the merciless testing before a fight. Your eyes glanced at the second Knight, taking note of their position, and then back at Ushar.

“I know that saber. It’s a split saber; only it’s missing a piece. Yes, I know that saber, and I know who it belongs to,” he paused before saying your name. Your real name.

"And," he said your name again, as if it was a question, "well she’s chained up in my ship,” he huffed out a laugh, “imagine that.”

Your thoughts struggled to form in your head. You had been careful. Meticulously careful. Not even the New Republic would be able to piece this together. There was a reason he would send Ushar. Of all the Knights, Ushar’s track record was the cleanest. He always delivered. You hated to admit it, but Ushar uncovering your best-kept secret somehow fit.

“Are you going to tell him you fell for it? Or will you pretend that finding my decoy was all part of your plan?” You smirked at the sight of his hands squeezing the club in his hands. Ushar thought of his hunt as a game, and you were his favorite player.

He sheathed the club and reached into his pocket, pulling out something you couldn’t pinpoint from a distance. A hologram of a woman handcuffed to the floor hovered above his hand. It was Jissani Pashol. The real Jissani Pashol. She was a mirror image of you, even in hologram form; it’s why your switch worked so well for so long.

“Between you and me, you’re right. I did fall for the switch initially. When we got a hit on Coruscant, it sounded so ridiculous that I realized why she’d hide there. No one in the galaxy would ever think a Jedi would have the nerve to shack up on Coruscant.” They both had started to circle you, not too close but not too far.

He continued, “the resemblance is uncanny, too. You had to do your hair a little different, but other than that it’s spot on. Two of a kind. I mean, how you got so lucky to find someone that looks just like you and happens to be looking for the reset button, too? Maybe the Force does favor the Jedi. Skywalker would be proud.”

The name struck deep, just as Ushar intended. Your weight shifted towards him, wanting to put an end to his over-explanation.

“Let’s get on with it Ushar. Did he finally send you to kill me? I don’t remember you being so forward the last time,” the second Knight left your peripheral as you spoke.

To your surprise, Ushar did not reach for his club. In fact, he took a few steps back to perch on the elevated entrance to their ship. He nodded towards the second Knight.

“You know how it is, kiddo. It’s never that simple with him. He wants you alive, I'm not sure why,” he kicked a knee up to lean on, “go ahead Corpis, she looks half-beat already.”

Corpis. Not one of the established Knights. Luckily, all of Ushar’s talking gave your body a chance to settle. Your breathing was now even, and your heartbeat at least wasn’t pounding against your eardrums. With the lack of adrenaline, the pain crept into your nerves. If your right arm didn't break when the hammer hit, it had to have at least fractured. Blood and sweat stuck to your skin and hair.

You didn’t just look half beat, you felt it. But, there was no way you were going down easy with Ushar watching in the gallery.

You weren’t shocked that her staff had electro-plasma currents on either end. You could hear the vibrations that radiated from them. Ushar was right when he said you had a split saber, the two halves coming together to form a duel ended blade or separating into two single blades. Which is why it was easy to predicts Corpis’ advances. Block low, high, middle, dodge. You knew these forms like you knew how to speak.

You took advantage of the opening she gave while going through the forms. Your saber came up between the electric ends, slicing the weapon in half. The momentum sent one end flying out of Corpis’s hand. You quickly recovering the severed end in your right hand and spun to angle the tip to their back. You brought the saber under their chin and felt them still. In their left hand, the other end of the staff hovered in the air. Pinned from the front and back, they had nowhere to go.

Ushar didn’t move from his perched position, he simply raised a blaster toward you and Corpis. He wouldn’t shoot, you both knew that. From the distance and the angle of your bodies, he didn’t have a clean shot. He could stun the two of you, but your saber could easily cut through Corpis’ neck as you went down.

“They really must have lowered the standards for Knights these days,” you could only imagine the rage in Corpis’ eyes, “see how he hasn’t moved from that spot? He doesn’t care what happens to you.”

“It’s been fun, Ushar, but I really must get going. Why don’t you let Jissani go, and you can have your junior paladin back,” Corpis shifted in your grasp, and you push their blade harder into their back.

Despite the obvious discomfort it causes, the Knight laughed, “this isn’t a negotiation. One way or another he’ll get what he wants. Why it’s you I’ll never understand.”

“You’re not taking me to him. Come on, Ushar. Tell him the trail went cold, that you found me dead in an alley, make something up, anything, just like last time,” you could see Corpis cock her head towards Ushar.

It was then they must have realized you and Ushar were more than familiar with each other. You know each other, and you knew Ushar would consider the proposition.

“He knows me, and he knows you. If you say you couldn’t find any sign of me, he’ll buy it. He has no reason to suspect you’d lie,” it was true. All the Knights were unconditionally obedient to their Master, most of the time.

You knew Ushar wanted to take the deal, “I’ll tell you what, kid. You give me double what you did last time and I’ll think about it. But you have to take care of, her.”

He gestured the blaster still aimed at your head towards the second Knight. Her. You heard her released a shuddered breath. Take care of her he said. You weren’t sure what else you expected. Before, it was just you and Ushar. There was no one else around to watch him let you go. If you were to trust him- no, believe him, there could be no witnesses.

Corpis scoffed, trying to maintain her composure, but you could feel her shaking in your grasp.

“It’s against the Jedi way to murder. You’re going to go against that and believe him,” she spat the last word at her fellow Knight.

It was against the Jedi way to murder, that much has been clear since the beginning of the order. Killing wasn’t always avoidable, but in this instance it was. Your enemy was at your mercy, weapon in hand but made no move to use it. You won. You didn’t need to kill her; but there it was, slowly creeping up from the darkest place in your mind. The urge to follow through. You wanted freedom, and you were ready to do anything to get it. The possibilities of what would happen if you didn’t skip through your head. Ushar would be forced to kill her, she heard too much already. He wouldn’t let you go after that, he liked to do things his way. He would kill her and take you hostage. Probably torment you just because he could. He’d wait until you begged him to not take you to him and only then would he tease you with a release and then yank it from you again.

You didn’t just want to do this, no, you needed to. For yourself, for Jissani. She didn’t do anything other than wish for a new life. You promised to help her, to protect her if she needed you.

“What will it be, Jedi.” Corpis’s breath quickened with every second you hesitated.

It was then that Ushar moved; closing the distance to you. Behind the mask, you knew his eyes were boring into yours. He knew the decision you would make before you did, and it sickened you to think he knew the processes of your thoughts. He stopped just in front of where you held the second Knight.

He turned his head to look at her, “didn’t I tell you? She’s no Jedi”

Corpis let out a hushed breath, following Ushar as he looked back to you. In one movement, you plunged the end of Corpis’ staff into her back and pulled the blade of your saber through her neck. You stepped back to let her body slump to the dirt between you and Ushar.

Your body shook, eyes refusing to look at the carnage beneath you. The sound of the two separate thuds, one heavy the other light, hitting the ground would never leave your mind. It was the trophy you'd be forced to take with you forever. It was all you could do to not collapse from exhaustion, head held forward as Ushar stalked your perimeter, humming in amusement. He left your peripheral and disappeared behind you. The saber in your hand died.

“I’m impressed, kid. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t fall for it.”

Did he say follow-through

No. Fall for it. He didn’t think you would fall for it

Your thumb brushed the switch to activate your saber, but before you got the chance you felt something prick your neck. The scene surrounding you blurred, your head spinning as you fell to the ground. Black spots formed in your vision and you could feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

Heavy footfalls thundered in your head, accompanied by laugher. That laughter, you knew it, and you hated it. It was terrorizing, striking fear deep within you, latching itself to your thoughts. It echoed and you wanted to scream against it, but you couldn’t move. Your body was paralyzed, your brain struggling to keep you awake.

“I’m sorry kid,” Ushar had never been sorry for anything, “things just never happen the same way twice.”

It was the last thing your head slumped back, welcoming the darkness that engulfed you.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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aparecium-hq · 4 years

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Welcome to Aparecium, Becky! You have been accepted for Saoirse Finnigan. I must admit she’s one of my favorite characters here, and it brings me a lot of joy that she’ll be in such clearly capable hands. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): April 29th, 2004 (23) Gender (Pronouns): Cis female (she/her) Sexuality: Homosexual Blood Status: Muggleborn

Hogwarts House/School: Hufflepuff Occupation: Trainee Healer

Faceclaim: Anya Taylor-Joy

Any requested changes? Nope, all good.

Biography:

The early years of Saoirse’s life could be viewed almost as fairy tale perfection from the outside. Finding her way into the perfect family, a fit exactly for her needs and the kind of support she needed, and having the opportunity to embrace both muggle and wizard traditions. She’d never had to fight to feel accepted, especially not by Grandma Thomas who quickly became her favourite relative and the one she begged to spend summers with as a teenager. Morgan was a brat, but they were her brat and she’d stick by them through anything. With all the good around her, Saoirse convinced herself not to think about the quiet things that had her crying in the dark. What she’d lost—if you could call it that.

At Hogwarts she flourished. Saoirse’s quick temper got her into trouble often, and she struggled some with understanding the views of others to begin with. She liked to argue, especially when something was said or happened that she didn’t particularly agree with. Saoirse developed a bit of a reputation as a loudmouth, a troublemaker, and—especially once she’d made the house team as beater in fourth year—a bruiser.

Saoirse never expected to fall for someone who’s world was so different to her own, but then she’d never really had a choice with Matilda. As second years, Matilda had once stepped in to stop Saoirse from punching a boy three years their senior and that had been it. Inseparable as friends for a time, Saoirse finally plucked up the courage to invite Matilda on a date to Hogsmeade when they were fifteen.

At nineteen she’d been ready to marry her, ring and all. Saoirse knew that things were different with Matilda’s family than they were her own, she’d long given up begging to meet them and thinking in her own stubborn little way that she’d win them over somehow. What she’d not expected was Matilda giving up everything they had together to make them happy. Saoirse tried, she really did, to talk some sense into her. To help her understand that she didn’t have to bow her head and marry the first boy her parents pushed towards her so she could be the perfect pureblood child. Fulfil the legacy. Whatever. Saoirse couldn’t make sense of any of it. She had to walk away.

Being alone—really alone—for the first time in her life, Saoirse found herself with a strange sense of focus. She’d always had a desire to help people, proven by the way she’d spent so much time and effort going out of her way to stick up for her friends and sibling. Only problem with the way she’d usually gone about it now was that going around getting into fist fights with strangers was hardly a very adult thing to be doing (Morgan told her as much). So Saoirse took her good grades and her stubbornness right into training as a Healer and found passion reignited.

Nowadays she certainly has a reputation among friends and family as the person to go to for back up. Not necessarily for good advice and calm reasoning, but Saoirse doesn’t care much for sitting on the fence anyway. She excels in her job and spends free time pushing for wix equality every chance she gets. Once a month she’s part of a group teaching the use of muggle technology to those who still struggle with the practicality of it rather than suffer from an unfortunate unwillingness to adapt. Through the group she’s slowly improving her own (admittedly basic) skills too, and has the chance to meet new people with similar ideals to her own.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family?

Fiercely protective. Saoirse won’t tolerate anyone badmouthing her family after all they’ve done to help her. Morgan in particular is a difficult subject as she’s watched the way they suffer and wants to do everything in her power to ease the pain. She struggles to vocalise this, though, and if confronted about the way she acts sometimes can be counted on to explain with a string of profanities or a simple, cutting ‘mind your damn business.’

What does your character value in a friendship?

Saoirse feels compelled to surround herself with people who know themselves and refuse to bend to be considered more acceptable to others. She can’t stand wishy-washy behaviours and defecting from one thing to the next for fear of commitment. The ring box still sitting in her underwear draw is testament to that.

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself?

Saoirse feels immensely satisfied when she’s able to say she actually helped somebody. She rides the high that comes with a job well done, finds it spurs her on to the next great thing. Particularly in the days following a success she’s at her most productive and can sometimes get carried away and overwork herself to the point of exhaustion.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

Those who have met Saoirse would undoubtedly describe her as something of a hothead. She’s intimidating when you first get to meet her on account of a cutting(see also:snarky) sense of humour and poor emotional sensitivity to those she doesn’t fully know. The biggest compliment said behind her back is her open-mindedness to those who consider themselves ‘different’. Saoirse herself would like to think that she’s softer than people see her, she’s not all fire and stone once you get to know her. Whether that’s true or not remains to be seen.

Para Sample

Coffee always tasted better after a night shift. Sitting in her favourite spot, in her favourite café, the first customer since opening with the place to herself… Saoirse sighed, content. She wrapped her fingers around the mug and felt the warmth seep in like a spell. It’d been a while, a few months maybe, since she’d been able to break away without a fellow junior healer at her side chatting away the first precious moments of peace since the shift began. Not that she minded the company. No, Saoirse was grateful to the people that kept her from going into a slump every time she let her mind wander to what She might be doing now.

Today was a good day, however, one where she would do exactly as she pleased and not let anything dampen her mood. First she’d make a trip to Flourish and Blott’s, pick up a few more textbooks for her growing collection, then it was her mission to find Fizzgig a new bed. Precious kitty that he was, he’d rejected the last one she bought and chosen it’s packaging to burrow into instead. A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, “is anyone sitting here?”

Torn from her reverie, Saoirse straightened up and turned dark eyes to her intruder. A young woman in dark robes and thick, bottle cap glasses stood staring back at her. The rest of the shop was empty still bar the wizard cleaning down the counter so there were plenty of available seats. Saoirse knew the smile, the slight head tilt, the look of expectation. Today was a good day.

#apareciumacceptance #rp #rpg #hp rp #hp rpg #saoirse finnigan

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adamarinayu · 5 years

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Now that we're on this hiatus, do you mind telling us what you thought of each episode?

Okay, I know I’m super late to answer this but here I am! I’m not gonna go too in depth on them, but I do want to talk about them.

Treasure of the Found Lamp!

This one was amusing, and I absolutely love what they did with Djinn. I’m so so so glad they changed his name, too, as “Dijon” always bothered me, even as a kid. Also, the story of the lamp was very heartwarming! And seeing Selene again was fun, especially as she had to run around and we find out she’s a terrible liar lol (so she definitely had nothing to do with Della’s disappearance, I think we can all finally put that theory to rest).

The wild goose chase aspect was funny, coming from both sides, and I still think the actress on Ma Beagle’s TV looked vaguely like a character from PKNA so. But Djinn did not pull punches and them Beagles at least got hurt XD

Also. It kinda has a “the greatest treasure is family” vibe to it.

The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!

As someone who loves Scrooge and loves Goldie, but is indifferent to Scroldie… I still loved this episode. It was great! It was also absolutely hilarious. And Gyro’s time traveling was amazing. Especially Scrooge’s sudden moment of realization when Gyro returned lol.

Louie’s gonna befriend Goldie! That makes me excited. I bet they’re gonna teach each other things that we haven’t even thought of (ie Louie values his family, while Goldie doesn’t even have a family. Maybe Goldie will officially join the Duck-McDuck family not through her strange but obviously antagonistically-romantic relationship with Scrooge, but through her friendship with and tutelage of Louie? Maybe he’s the one who shows her the importance of family and offers her a place in their family… it doesn’t mean giving up adventure, it just means always having somewhere she can call home, and people she can trust and rely on!).

I’m iffy about Jeeves’ redesign, and also his somewhat betrayal of Rockerduck, but I’ve never been like a hardcore fan of the two of them so it was easy for me to move on. I am curious, though, just how they’re gonna come back… guess Gyro’s not quite done with time travel shenanigans.

The only real gripe I have is Sheriff Marshal Cabrera. DON’T GET ME WRONG, I absolutely loved him. He’s a beautiful babby boy. But at the same time, he’s literally just. Fenton. I know he’s like. Fenton’s great grandfather (or maybe uncle, idk) or something. There should absolutely be similarities yes, but it felt like someone had taken the characters and placed them in an old west setting. That being said, I do love him, I just wish he’d been slightly more his own character. Like, maybe a little more like a mix of M’Ma and Fenton! Idk.

The 87 Cent Solution!

…….. You really want to know?

Okay, the episode was good. It was funny, and I enjoyed seeing Glomgold’s timestop shenanigans.

But the funeral scene? That wasn’t cool. I saw the “not really dead” twist coming, I think we all did, but no one thought to tell Donald? Donald thought that, so soon after finally making amends with his uncle, he had lost him for good.

And I get it. It’s meant to be a gag. It’s supposed to be funny. But it kinda really soured the rest of the episode for me. I hate to say that too, because it was a good and funny episode… I just… I can’t believe they did that to Donald. :(

The Golden Spear!

AGONY. Agony is how I feel about this one. Della made friends with the Lunarians! Actual friends! And then Penny made a bad choice, and Lunaris… damn you, Lunaris, you traitor.

All the things Della listed off, wanting to do with her kids and brother and uncle… they’re things the others have already done without her. That hit me in the feels.

AND THEN DONALD- AGH, I CAN’T EVEN. Poor Donald. He’s so stressed and his family loves him so much and just wanted him to have some peace. But alas, it was not to be. And now the fandom cries.

… Even if he really shouldn’t have climbed into that rocket but y’know. He didn’t MEAN to press buttons….

Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!

Della reunites with her boys and no one realizes Donald is gone. And we see Della trying to be a mom, and kinda failing miserably. But she’s trying, and she’s learning!

ALSO THEIR WOULD-BE NAMES HFBVSHKFCS

It really put to rest one of my biggest fears, that all of the triplets would accept her immediately (Louie showed serious hesitation through the entire episode, definitely coming from his place of insecurity that Dewey and Huey don’t share) and she’d be super-mom. She makes mistakes, and it’s acknowledged that she seems to be trying to be one of them rather than be their mother. It does feel awkward at times, and alien, like the boys are trying so hard to think she’s doing great when she’s really causing harm, but in the end when it comes down to it she’d do anything to protect them, and gives them the choice of letting her into their life. She doesn’t try and force her way in (as she kinda did at first, but came to realize this isn’t easy for them either).

Right now she feels kinda more like a cool aunt than a mom, but she’ll learn.

Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!

IS LUDWIG’S CONSCIOUS TRAPPED IN THE VAULT?! HE REACTED TO AND INTERACTED WITH THE PEOPLE OUTSIDE.

Anyway Scrooge and Glomgold’s parts were absolutely A+ hilarious. Della and Dewey bonding, they’re so much alike, but we see Dewey’s insecurity flare up- how he wants to impress Della, feeling like he has to earn her love. Even though she’s already loved them for ten years, even without ever knowing what they looked like.

Della has a moment of realization here, too. She looks down and realizes Dewey is in a dangerous situation. She realizes that Dewey is in danger. She questions if they’re doing something crazy, clearly thinking maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, but when Dewey quotes her “I’m your son, I can do anything!” she instead chooses to encourage him, not wanting to discourage him and possibly cause him to fall.

And then of course, her “exit strategy” thing. I honestly kinda feel like it’s a bit of an ass pull, but it at least makes a little sense. When you’re being hunted by a monster on the moon, you always want to have an escape route planned. Scrooge sees that, even if she’s the same ol’ Della she was before, she’s still changed. Ten years still changes you.

Friendship Hates Magic!

New Girl! New Girl! Violet’s pretty cool. At first she comes off as one of those “um, actually” people, but since I’m one of those “um, actually” people it’s pretty whatever to me lol. And Lena’s back! I’m super excited about that.

Lena gets a little jealous-possessive but who can blame her, Webby’s one of the few people who have always believed in her. And Webby spent so much time we never knew about trying to find ways to bring Lena back, to the point that it’s like clockwork.

The whole “being tormented by her own mind” thing was actually frightening in a way, and I’m just glad it all turned out alright. And now Webby isn’t just a fourth triplet, she’s the central member of her own trio. It’s great!

The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!

Admittedly another plotline to be seen from far away. A good episode full of secondhand embarrassment, but dang Huey’s LUNGS.

I love Gandra’s design and personality. It’s pretty durn great. I love it! I just have one gripe. Warning, this is a bit of a rant.

Why can’t we let characters be feminine? By this I mean traditionally feminine. Dresses, makeup, shopping, high heels, giggling, soft and compassion and gentle and things I’m not, pinks and lilacs, etc. Yes, Webby’s favourite colour is pink and she likes glitter and wears skirts, she is pretty feminine. But she’s the only one, besides Roxanne Featherby (Featherly? I don’t remember, and that’s only arguably because of her clothes), to be even slightly feminine, and even then it can be argued she’s not all that traditionally feminine because, well… she’s the bruiser of the group. Which there’s absolutely nothing wrong with! A feminine bruiser absolutely works, and I love it, but looking at it from certain angles…

Most of the (non-villain) females, besides Webby, show next to no traditionally feminine qualities- Goldie is the closest, when she dresses up for special events or for schemes. Which I don’t mind, per se, I don’t have many traditionally feminine qualities either, but you’d think at least a few would. The original Gandra Dee, who I am glad they changed mind you, was very feminine; she wore her hair long, wore dresses, enjoyed makeup and manicures, etc. She was traditionally feminine, AND smart. (even if I never liked how they drew her face (the eyes and beak look weird imho, DT17 pulled it off better), and I felt like she left much to be desired *cough*…)

There is nothing wrong with having traditionally feminine characters. There is nothing wrong with having characters who enjoy dressing up, or putting on makeup, or shopping, etc. The problem with traditionally feminine characters comes in when it’s done for sex appeal, or you have a woman running from dinosaurs in 6 inch heels (yeah I’m calling that out) or there’s a feminine character there only to be dragged on by the others for their feminine characteristics.

Anyway, rant about that over. I still love what they did with Gandra, but I’m just noticing this trend where female characters aren’t being allowed to like traditionally feminine things. Yeah, there are absolutely a lot of girls who don’t, but there’s probably an equal amount who do! And there’s nothing wrong with showing a competent, traditionally feminine character. :/

The Duck Knight Returns!

DARKWING DUCK DARKWING DUCK DARKWING DUCK NEGADUCK AAAAAAAA

Need I say more?

Okay, Launchpad is a sweetheart and let’s be honest, we knew the moment we saw him that the other guy at the signing was Drake Mallard.

I love that they kept the “Darkwing Duck inspires Drake Mallard to become Darkwing Duck” aspect of DW’s origin story, while twisting it around so that time travel and paradoxes don’t occur. Also! We still get Jim Cummings as Negaduck, while also getting a new VA for Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck- someone who does a pretty good job at sounding like them, too. So now Negaduck, who is no longer Darkwing/Drake Mallard from an alternate universe, has his own distinguishable voice!

… And I still think Negs is gonna have an unhealthy obsession with Launchpad, thanks to the “my fan” comment. I figure that’s how we’ll get Nega Launchpad, but who knows! There’s so many possibilities!

Anyway Gosalyn, yesterday please. Gimme.

#Ask #DuckTales 2017 #Marina has Opinions #Sorry it's not in depth with screenshots and everything #It's a bit late and I'm tired from work #But I hope I conveyed my thoughts in an understandable way

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