Katara (still unaware): well he doesn't do it much
Zuko (wincing): of course, I mean... I can't even imagine how hard it must've been... For all of you
Katara (slowly becoming aware that zuko is taking this VERY seriously): yeah...
Zuko: and the two of you are so close even despite it all. Azula and I, I can't even remember how long ago it was when we actually got along. And we have the sam- err... (Head in hands as every interaction is recontextualized)
Katara (eyes wide, fully panicking now that she realizes just what zuko thinks): uhh zuko-
Zuko: spirits! He wanted to be just like chief hakoda when... When i-... And I've heard he looks just like her. The two of you... you're so amazing you're so strong
Toph (listening from the bushes outside the window dying of laughter and earth bending a rock muzzle to keep quiet)
Aight so I'm aware that my media literacy isn't *great* but I'm trying ever since I got skill-diffed on my squid game viewing.
So here's a thing that I think MUST be a thing, but I don't get it. So this guy Vox who's clearly giving televangelist vibes is (maybe?) literally named "Vox populi," obviously a reference to Vox populi, vox dei. "The voice of the people is the voice of God," which as far as I understand is itself a reference to the full quote "Nec audiendi qui solent dicere, Vox populi, vox Dei, quum tumultuositas vulgi semper insaniae proxima sit" which loosely translates to "don't listen to anyone who says that the voice of the people is the voice of God because the Justice of the crowds is almost madness." Again, very on the nose given what the guy is doing by riling up the masses of hell supposedly to pursue payback for the sinners exterminated but in reality for the purposes of helping him gain power (again televangelist vibes).
Ok that's him out of the way. I think I get it. Where I'm getting confused is what she means in relation:
Ok so this character is named, "the speaker of God" which neatly fits into the second half of that reference vox populi, vox dei. We've got populi and here's dei, fantastic. They're also clearly foils for one another. Vox's name literally means people's voice, but he mostly tells people what to think but unlike biblical prophets he's less commanding and preachy and more persuasive and charismatic. So ya know... The opposite of being the people's voice but also clearly not the voice of God and also once again, *televangelist*. On the flip side, Speaker really avoids speaking in certainties at all, like not telling Sera that she is clearly right or wrong for supporting exterminations before or for doubting them now.
BUT LIKE TO WHAT END?
They're opposites who don't really fully embody the idea of their counterpart's name (Speaker doesn't really act like the voice of the people instead just generally advising introspection and Vox doesn't really act like the voice of God cuz he's too persuasive instead of commanding). But shouldn't I be able to form some sort of character and plot trajectory for these 2 with this much info? I'd like to believe I didn't need alastor to tell me that vox is gonna lose it in the last 2-3 episodes. But you... You fucking can't have the 2 sides of "vox populi, vox dei" be important characters to the plot without having them do something together at some point right? What perspective am I missing to go from pattern recognition on Latin sayings (which I think I'm probably pretty good at) to piecing together story threads and themes?
"How Else to Prove That I'm Devout" - KPDH polytrix fanfic (part 3)
Well this ended up being a bit longer than the other chapters but there was a lot happening. Enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2
Read on ao3
---------
Mira spent the next week with her phone glued to her hand. She opened and closed the same social media apps in a near continuous loop, trying to look like she was doing anything other than silently losing her mind. She kept it tilted towards her to hide it. She didn’t want the girls to see the broken screen and ask what happened. Their concern had only grown worse, tentatively commenting on the bags beneath her eyes and asking if she was getting enough sleep, reminding her over and over to keep her hand elevated and iced, casting anxious glances and strained smiles every time she walked into the room.
Zoey refused to let go of her, whether it was linking their arms as they walked or draping herself across Mira every time she sat down. Rumi wasn’t nearly as bad, but it still startled Mira. Rumi got clingy so rarely, and even though she’d gotten better about flinching away from anything more than a hand on the shoulder, she wasn’t cuddling up to them every chance she got like Zoey.
Instead, she would trail her hand across Mira’s lower back as she passed. Press their legs together on the couch. Once when Zoey was in the studio searching for a misplaced notebook, Rumi came up behind her and gently took her injured hand with a quiet, “Let me see,” brushing her fingers along the edge of the wrap.
Mira pursed her lips, stifling both the ache that shot up her arm and the way her heart stuttered in her chest as Rumi looked up at her. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Not really,” Mira said with a shrug. “Just feels weird.”
“The doctor said to keep ice on it.”
“I can’t keep ice on it every second of the day, Rumi.”
“You should be doing it more often, though.” She let go of Mira’s hand, her touch trailing up the entire length of her forearm. Mira swore the warmth of Rumi’s skin on hers erased the pain better than any pill she could take. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”
“I’m sure, Rumi.”
“Because it’s okay if it does. Wait, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s bad if it hurts, if it really hurts we need to go to the doctor again,” Rumi said. Mira smirked as she watched her fumble for the right words. “I mean, it’s okay to tell us if it does. You don’t need to hide it or pretend it doesn’t.”
Mira’s smirk faded. Rumi watched her expectantly, waiting for any kind of response. Mira couldn’t look her in the eye.
“I know,” she finally said. “Really, though, it doesn’t hurt.” Rumi narrowed her eyes, and Mira relented, “It aches a little if I’m doing something with it but otherwise I’m fine.”
Rumi was silent for a moment longer before sighing and nodding. “Okay. I believe you.”
Hearing her say it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
“Come on,” Rumi continued, “we should help Zoey look for her notebook. I’m afraid she’s going to start breaking things if she can’t find it.”
“She only did that once,” Mira said as she followed.
“I’d rather not test that when she has my four million won guitar in reach.”
“Fair.”
Zoey started sleeping in Mira’s room more often than she used to. It got to the point where she just left a stuffed animal in there; not her favorite, but a close second. Her favorite had a special spot on her bed and was never moved. Mira learned that the first time she spent the night in Zoey’s room and accidentally knocked it out of place, and Zoey had kneed her in the stomach trying to catch it before it hit the floor.
Usually it helped her sleep, having Zoey curled up next to her with one leg hiked up over Mira’s and her arms wrapped possessively around her waist. Nothing helped now. Alone or accompanied, she stared at the ceiling for hours while her mind raced. On the nights were she was alone, she’d go to the dark living room and sit by the windows, watching the city lights far below so she would stop looking at Rumi’s door.
More than once, she ended up standing right outside it with her hand raised to knock but never able to force herself to do it. Every time, she saw that one frame of the Takedown video, saw Rumi staring at her with more fear in her eyes than Mira had ever seen on anyone.
No. No, not her. The demon with her face. It wasn’t her. She’d never…
The photoshoot was a welcome distraction. Between the costume changes, the direction from the photographer, the lights, and the constant rambling talk of the staff, she physically could not focus on anything else. It was perfect. The outfits were a fall collection, so there were a lot of jackets and pants with deep pockets to hide her bandaged hand. Even without them, the right pose with the right angles and edits could fix any accidental glimpses of it. Everything was completely, totally, absolutely fucking fine.
Zoey had been in a writing frenzy for the past two days, and Mira never liked interrupting those unless they were legitimately affecting her health, so she assured her it was alright for her to stay home. She got easily bored at photoshoots, anyway. Bobby was running around talking to a dozen people at once about contracts, promos, release dates, and a multitude of other things Mira never could pay attention to. Rumi watched from the back of the room with an easy smile on her face.
Mira caught her eye as a team of makeup artists touched up her lipstick. Rumi gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed, “You’re doing great.”
Mira smiled. One of the makeup artists whispered, “I think we used too much blush.”
There was another flurry of photos, bright flashes that left colorful blotches in her vision, and another costume change. The photographer approached as they were adjusting a spiked leather jacket around her shoulders.
“Mira, we’re so happy you came,” he gushed. “You’re the toughest idol out there, pushing through… What happened, again?”
“Choreography mishap,” Mira said. That was the agreed upon explanation Bobby came up with.
“Such a hard worker! Hey, everyone, let’s give a round of applause for our star!” He started clapping, quickly joined by the dozens of staff rushing around the studio. “That’s why you’re a superstar, Mira. That’s the dedication. Do you need any water? Anything at all? We’ll do a few more outfits and then we’ll tweak anything you want changed, you just stay gorgeous, stay stunning as always.”
As he went on with the rambling compliments, Mira glanced over his shoulder towards Rumi. She always found things like this funny. Her chest tightened when she saw her.
Rumi had her back to the wall with a severely forced smile on her face. A man - one of the production assistants, Mira recalled - was standing too close to her, talking excitedly as he gestured to her patterns. Mira watched her pull her jacket tighter around herself, hand fluttering over the marks on her throat as she barely restrained herself from covering them completely. Mira’s veins flooded with fire as she lifted a hand towards the photographer.
“Excuse me,” she said curtly.
“Of course, of course, take five, whatever you need. Take five, everyone!”
Mira was already across the room. She put an arm around Rumi’s shoulders and pulled her away with a quick, “Sorry, stealing her,” directed toward the PA. She brought Rumi to the corner of the room, away from the bustling activity of the shoot, and stood in front of her to shield her from view. She was keenly aware of their height difference as Rumi looked up at her with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, trying to keep the hard edge out of her voice.
“Yeah, Mira, I’m fine.” She was still covering her patterns.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing, nothing, he just… said he liked my tattoos. He wanted to know where I got them done so he could get similar ones.”
Right. Mira often forgot that the public thought the shimmering, iridescent marks covering Rumi’s body were an elaborate tattoo design.
“I’m fine,” Rumi repeated. She avoided Mira’s eyes. “It caught me off guard, that’s all.”
Mira sighed and resisted the urge to turn and snarl at the PA. Instead, she gently took Rumi’s hand and lowered it from her neck, holding it tight between them.
“Don’t cover up,” she whispered.
You’re beautiful.
She couldn’t say the last part out loud. She prayed Rumi heard it anyway.
Rumi smiled. She intertwined their fingers and let her other hand rest over Mira’s collarbone. Mira thought her heart might stop. It was a miracle she kept a straight face. God, what was wrong with her lately?
“Go back to your shoot,” Rumi said sweetly.
Mira did. She’d do anything Rumi asked if it meant making up for everything she’d already done.
She kept an arm around Rumi’s shoulders as they left the studio. She was on edge and distracted for the rest of the shoot, the poses coming more from muscle memory than anything. She kept looking over at Rumi to check on her and had to be redirected several times over the course of a single outfit change. Regardless, everyone was happy with her in the end. Rumi and Bobby included.
She watched the city stream by outside the car window. On the seat between them, she held Rumi’s hand lightly, with only their pinky fingers linked. She pretended not to notice the soft smiles Bobby kept casting their way.
Mira only looked up when Bobby’s phone rang. “Oh, it’s Zoey!” he said as he answered. “Hey, Zoey, you’re on speaker.”
“We’re heading home now,” Mira called.
Zoey did not care about that. “Look at your socials right now!” she shouted.
Mira and Rumi frowned. “Uh, why?” Mira asked. She was not pulling out her broken phone with Rumi so close to her.
“Just do it!”
“Okay, okay!” Rumi opened her phone. “Which platform?”
“Literally any. You’re going viral everywhere.”
“They’re what?” Bobby asked.
“Um…” Rumi was bright red from her neck to the tips of her ears. She angled her phone out so Mira and Bobby could see while she kept her stare trained on the floor. “I think she means this.”
On the screen were pictures of Rumi and Mira from the photoshoot, sneakily captured by what was obviously a shaky cellphone camera. They showed their hands locked and Mira’s injured hand by her side, Rumi’s smile as she touched Mira’s chest, and wow, Mira did not realize exactly how close they’d been: almost leaning on each other with their faces mere centimeters apart. The candids were undeniably… intimate. If Mira wasn’t the one in the picture, there was no way she’d believe there was anything platonic about it.
Rumi handed her the phone and hid her face behind her hands as Mira opened the comments.
RUMIRA TRUTHERS RISE!!!!!
@ huntr/xfirstfan you owe me 14k won
Reply: dude I was rooting for them the whole time?
Not subtle at all. Everyone who shipped them with Saja is delusional.
So everyone is forgetting that Zoerumi already acts like this??
Reply: polytrix is a thing
“What the fuck is polytrix?” Mira asked.
Bobby laughed awkwardly. “It’s the ship name for all of Huntrix… together,” he explained. He sounded like a single dad trying to give his daughters the talk.
Mira’s face grew hot as she stared at him, her jaw clenching. She swallowed hard and looked at Rumi, who just groaned and slumped down in her seat.
“Half the internet is frothing at the mouth right now,” said Zoey, a little too happily. Mira had forgotten she was on the phone. “And the other half is crying because they think their ship just got destroyed.”
“Where are boats involved in this?” Rumi asked. Mira facepalmed. She couldn’t help it.
“No, Rumi, shipping means, like, wanting two characters or people to be in a relationship. Or thinking they already are. It’s a fandom thing. And right now, everyone is shipping you two because you literally look like you’re about to kiss!”
“Zoey!”
Mira scrolled further down in the comments.
I love Rumira as much as the next fan, but why is no one mentioning the cast on Mira’s hand? She didn’t have that at the meet and greet a couple weeks ago.
Reply: It’s not a cast, it’s a wrap. I’ve done martial arts for years and I had that put on when I broke my hand once. She hit something
Reply: Just because her hand is hurt doesn’t mean she hit something
Reply: Maybe she beat someone up protecting her girls!!
Reply: This isn’t fanfiction, get a grip
Okay, enough of that! Mira furiously scrolled away from that thread until her eyes locked on one comment near the bottom.
Does this mean they made up?
Mira tuned back in to the conversation around her as Rumi asked, “Who even took those?”
“I don’t know,” said Zoey. “The account that originally posted them is completely blank. No profile picture, auto-generated username, no other posts. There’s nothing but your pictures.”
“I’m getting these taken down,” Bobby fumed. “I’m calling that photographer and I will make him find out who on his staff decided to pull this stunt. Totally unprofessional invasion of privacy-”
“Wait!” Mira interrupted. Rumi and Bobby jumped and turned to her. She cleared her throat and looked everywhere but at them. “Maybe… we leave it alone. Let the fans run wild with it for a bit.”
Rumi and Bobby stared at her in shock, mouths agape. On the phone, Zoey exclaimed, “Did Mira just say that?!”
Mira growled and showed them the comment. “The whole point of the meet and greet was to make people shut up about the breakup rumors, right? Bobby?”
“Well-”
“I’m not saying we confirm it.” She had half a mind to jump out of the moving car at this point. “Just let them have this so people talk about something else.”
She mentally begged for someone else to start talking. She could feel Rumi staring at her. She’d be staring, too, if it were Rumi who just suggested they let the entire internet believe they were dating. What the fuck was she thinking!
“Let’s do it,” said Rumi hurriedly. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“It looks like it’s already working,” Zoey added.
“I… okay,” Bobby relented. “Fake dating, it is.”
Rumi and Mira shouted, “Not what we said!” while Zoey cackled on the other end of the line.
She was waiting for them when they got home. She stood as they walked in, opening her mouth to speak only for them to rush past her towards their own rooms.
“I’m going to take my makeup off,” said Mira.
“I have work to do,” said Rumi.
Zoey frowned and turned to watch them leave. “So we’re not going to talk about this?”
“No!”
Mira avoided Rumi for the rest of the night. Every time she looked at her, she felt short of breath and her face got hot and she couldn’t stand to be embarrassed about this when she was the one who suggested entertaining the fan theories in the first place. She stared at her phone for hours, burying her head in her pillow as if that would erase the photos and the fan edits of them and #polytrix completely taking over her feed. She only put it down when edits of her and Zoey started popping up and she really couldn’t take it anymore.
Once the lights in the hall went out and she heard the girls’ doors shut, she made her way silently into the dark living room. She sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, leaning her head on the window, staring at the city lights. Maybe she could blame this whole thing on a lack of sleep. That was it. She wasn’t in her right mind. That’s the only explanation she had for suggesting she and Rumi entertain dating rumors!
She stood with a heavy sigh and walked to the kitchen. Maybe tea would help? She would look up some sleep aids online, maybe ask Bobby to find her something, anything to-
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. Her stomach dropped.
“Rumi!”
She bolted. She hit Rumi’s door hard, trying the knob only to find it locked. Blinding panic swelled in her chest. She could hear Rumi behind the door, could hear gasps and terrified cries and it sounded like she couldn’t breathe and Mira had to get to her now!
She put her shoulder to the door and broke it down. It swung open on one hinge as she stumbled into the room, pain lancing through her shoulder, looking around frantically until she spotted Rumi.
There were no demons in sight, thankfully, because she hadn’t even thought to draw her weapon and would have to fight with only one working hand. Rumi was curled in a ball in the corner, covering her head as broken sobs wracked her body. Her patterns glowed a deep pink, pulsing wildly, and her hands had turned into vicious claws and were corpse-blue up to her shoulders. Mira could feel her terror through the honmoon as it settled deep in her soul.
She stepped closer slowly, carefully, crouching with her hands held out. “Rumi?” she ventured. Rumi jumped and whipped her head up to look at her. One eye glowed like molten gold. “Rumi, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
Rumi’s voice came as a shaky, distorted whisper. “Mira?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I won’t hurt you. You’re okay.”
The fact that she had to say it, that it wasn’t a given anymore, fucking killed her.
“Mira!”
Rumi launched herself into Mira’s arms. She caught herself with her good hand, fortunately, the force of the hug almost knocking her over. Rumi clung to her with every bit of strength she had, like she would die if she let go, like the world would implode around them and the stars would all go dark, burying her face against Mira’s chest as she broke down in her arms. Mira stifled a pained hiss as Rumi’s claws dug into her side.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, baby, I’m right here,” she cooed, rocking Rumi back and forth. “Breathe for me, Rumi. Easy. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare, that’s all.”
Rumi’s gasping sobs began to calm. Mira held her close as her hands returned to normal and the strange purplish color receded from her skin. Her patterns changed from bright pink fire to a gentle glow the color of the honmoon. Mira smiled, cupping the back of her head as she let go of a shuddering exhale and turned her face against Mira’s neck.
Just when she seemed ready to speak, the already busted door slammed open. Zoey ran in, panic on her face and shin-kal in her hands.
“Are you guys okay?! I heard screaming and then the door and-”
Rumi’s patterns flashed purple. A strangled noise escaped her as she stared at the weapons in Zoey’s hands. Zoey realized just as Rumi began to push Mira back.
“Woah, Rumi, it’s okay!” Mira assured her, trying to keep her from running but not restraining her. Tears sprang to Zoey’s eyes as her weapons disappeared. “Zo, hang on, don’t cry. Girls, we’re okay. Everything’s fine!”
She didn’t know how to do this. Calming the other two down had always been Zoey’s role in their trio. Mira was the one who needed calming, not the one who did it!
Rumi finally settled as Zoey stepped towards them. “I’m sorry,” Zoey croaked. “Rumi, I’m so sorry.” Rumi just shook her head and grabbed Zoey’s collar, pulling her into the embrace, leaning in as Zoey buried her face against her shoulder. Mira reached over and tangled her fingers in Zoey’s hair, caressing gently behind her ear with her thumb the way she liked.
Mira held her girls like that for an eternity. She kept her breathing steady, trying to calm Zoey’s racing pulse beneath her fingers, pretending her heart didn’t break with every little hiccup from Rumi. She grounded herself on the ache in her broken hand pressed against Rumi’s back and the stinging scratches in her side. She didn’t dare move, staying still as stone, lest she dislodge one of them from their places against her and introduce the horrible idea that she was pushing them away. If she didn’t move, she wouldn’t hurt them. Just like she always promised.
Just like she failed to do.
Zoey touched her cheek. She looked up. Zoey’s eyes were glassy with tears as she nodded towards Rumi, now fast asleep between them. “She’s exhausted,” she whispered.
“Give her to me.”
Zoey cautiously let go and climbed to her feet. Mira put Rumi’s arms around her neck, pausing to make sure the movement didn’t wake her, and picked her up. Her legs were numb from kneeling for so long but she managed not to stumble as she carried Rumi to bed, laying her down as Zoey climbed in on her other side. Rumi whined and immediately turned over to latch onto Zoey. As Mira put one leg on the bed, Zoey reached over and laid a hand on her hip.
She stared wide eyed at Mira’s side. “Mira?”
Mira glanced down to find four small tears in her shirt. She pressed her fingers through them to find spots of coagulating blood sticking to her skin. “Dammit,” she mumbled. “Do you have her?”
“Mira-”
“It’s fine. I’ll be right back, just… just keep her calm if she wakes up again.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Zoey pulled Rumi closer and laid her head down. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Mira locked herself in her bathroom. Hunched over with both hands braced on the edge of the sink, she stared at herself for a long, long time before finally stripping out of her shirt. She ran her fingers along the marks from Rumi’s claws and gritted her teeth. She grabbed the first aid kit she kept in the vanity and bandaged them as lightly as she could while still covering them, ensuring Rumi wouldn’t see any evidence of it. Even though it was an accident, the last thing Rumi needed was knowing she hurt one of them when her demon half made an appearance.
The last thing Mira needed was seeing Rumi hate herself again.
I made a new profile pic for myself. It was only going to be a small doodle and it sorta just spiralled lol.
Probably will use it on this account.
The last time i drew a kirby profile pic, i tried to do hypernova kirby and it just wasnt all that great.
Im much happier with this one though
and it took a fraction of the time!
Completely unrelated, did you know that Kirby wears a little suit in the Kirby Super Star Ultra sound player and it is my favorite outfit I have seen ever?
there's also "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" which conservatives are oh so fond of saying
bootstraps are, well, straps on your boots. you cannot physically pull yourself up by them, and that's what the original phrase meant. "pulling oneself up by the bootstraps" is meant to be an impossible task
"Birds of a feather flock together- until the cat comes." - The first part gets quoted a lot in a "find your people" kind of way, but the full quote was meant to be a warning about basing relationships on "feathers" (looks, surface details, etc) only.
"Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back." - The first part is often used like a warning against curiosity, but the full quote is meant to encourage it.
"The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese." - The first part is often used to get people to do stuff first/fast/early, but the full saying is meant to impart that sometimes, not being the first can work out better.
"Rome wasn't built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour." - The first part is often quoted in a "cool it/relax/stop" type way, but the full quote is meant to encourage slow and steady progress.
"Great minds think alike, though fools seldom differ." - Just because it's an idea y'both had, doesn't make it a good one.
Just to add, "blood is thicker than water" with its more known and accepted definition is an older and more consistently used version of the saying than, "blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb."
In John Moore's Zeluco (1789), a character assures another in a letter that there is little danger in him forgetting his old friends "and far less my blood relations; for surely blood is thicker than water."
The phrase is also referenced in a collection of Scots Proverbs by Allen Ramsay (1737) and states the version "blood is thicker than water" as the complete form of the proverb.
"Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb," is an interpretation that was first recorded in 1990 by author Albert Jack and rabbi Richard Pustelniac wherein they utilize a tried and true method to legitimize their interpretation by saying that it's the "original" meaning without citing any sources to support this claim.
ALL THIS TO SAY, sayings are just words. They're not universally correct and they change in meaning over years as the use of the saying changes and the morals of the time period adjust. "Blood is thicker than water" comes from a time when your family members were the only people you could generally rely upon to care about your well being and an overwhelming amount of time/effort spent was to try and improve or sustain the lifestyle of your current household (think who benefitted from all the effort of drawing water, cooking, choring, working a job, or making/washing clothes). In recent years this is less the case and a different interpretation of this saying is more valuable to modern relationships. That doesn't make the old meaning wrong, it doesn't make the new meaning the original, it just evolves.
"The customer is always right in terms of taste" was a very reasonable saying to develop in a time when individual sales are nontrivial income sources. But "the customer is always right," is far more appropriate in a world where capitalism overwhelming values repeat business and brand loyalty and where replacing a worker that won't let a customer run them over is as easy as reaching your hand out the front door and grabbing someone.
People saying, "the customer is always right" from a management perspective aren't "using the saying wrong." They're using a fundamentally different fucking saying that's adapted itself to an environment that cares more about how much money a billionaire can get from any individual customer than how much suffering it costs a worker to extract it.
"High King" is an interchangeable title, and it purely means "strongest infinite realms being at this particular point in time".
It is also a test to determine new Ancients.
Whoever can defeat the previous High King gains the empty title, but more importantly they have their domain as an Ancient determined. The Infinite Realms, sapient and older than time and existence, monitors how the fight went down, and assigns a domain.
For Pariah Dark, who laid bloody siege to gain the title, it is Destruction.
For Danny?
It is, surprisingly, not Heroism. It's not Protection.
It's Thieves.
As far as the Infinite Realms are concerned, he started the battle by stealing supplies, and ended it stealing back Amity Park to the Living Realm.
Danny Phantom is the High King of the Infinite Realms, the Infant Ancient of Thieves.
This gives him a few perks none of the other High Kings had, namely the biggest and most important one; as the Ancient of Thieves, there are, quite literally, no sigils, cages, or traps that can detain him.
So evading the GIW is a breeze now, as is not getting caught by his parents.
The annoying part is constantly having to prove this to delusional cultists when he's summoned.
~~~~~~
John Constantine, who is well aware that the title of High King changed hands and is also aware that the newest Ancient is the Ancient of Thieves, is betting on being able to convince the strange Ancient to steal him.
Because Constantine is trapped in a room with walls that are literally closing in, it's filling with water, and any potential exit is enchanted by demons to prevent him from leaving.
He really, really pissed them off this time.
But, he thinks as the Ancient of Thieves appears before him, they forgot to set the enchantments to stop him from bringing someone in.
#phanfic#story prompt#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny doesn't realize it yet but this also makes him the patron ancient of spies#guess who he's gonna feel an immediate connection to?#any bat that played a spy at any point#which is all of them
So technically, Danny owns Constantine now. Not because he was sold his soul, but because Danny literally just stole the guy. Imagine someone tries to get Constantine and he just said, “sorry, I’m already taken.” He might even jokingly call Danny ‘Master’ (despite the kid being decades younger than him) to annoy Danny. Like, just seriously talking in a JL meeting and says he can just make a call to his master. Completely straight faced. Accidentally gaslights the entire JL into thinking Danny is an adult magic being who just happens to look like a child.
Also, I’m just imagining Danny being summoned by various summoning circles, looks them dead in the eyes, says he will just leave if there isn’t anything important, and when they don’t believe him he just casually walks out the circle (or makes a peace sign and does that fade into invisibility meme.)
what if stealing Constantine overrode any claim to his soul?
He's the Ancient of Thieves, why would contract laws apply to him?
Can you imagine how much more of a nightmare Constantine would be to deal with if he was powered by the Ancient of Thieves instead of those contracts?
A man who's the equivalent of a magic lawyer with how much he loves to talk circles around people powered by a being that's very existence is to disregard the rules.
That’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s why he’s very adamant on the ‘master’ thing. Part of it is because it annoys Danny. The other part is that he does not want to lose the sweet benefits of being under the ancient of thieves. And he’s so dramatic with it. Like someone calls Danny short.
Constantine: DRAMATIC GASP! “You dare?! You dare call my beloved master short?! You dare point out his pint size! SHAME! Shame on you!”
And Danny is just groaning in a corner trying to hide his face. He has…so many regrets.
There has got to be some downsides though. Is Ancient of Thieves Danny now a kleptomaniac? Does he feel a overwhelming need to have whenever he sees something that catches his attention?
And maybe his appearance gradually takes on more raccoon and magpie like traits.
I guess it could be an interesting Justice League Dark story when more and more shiny and powerful artifacts start disappearing from the world and it turns out that Hermes challenged Danny to a fun thievery challenge.
On top of that merchants of any kind fully expect him to steal from them, even if he's going out of his way to not do that, regardless of who owns the store or how big it is.
He can "sniff" out thieves, which means anyone who's stolen anything pings on his radar, which is overwhelming in large crowds because literally everyone has stolen something at least once in their lives.
Thieves mean stealth, which means Danny can fade into the background. This is great but also a huge negative; his parents and teachers sometimes completely forget he's there.
Teachers don't hand him homework papers, his parents forget to set his place at the table, Sam and Tucker will make plans and forget he's right there to include so they text him asking where he is (that ones kinda funny actually), etc.
Does stealing someone's life aka killing them count as thievery? Does he know what someone stole or just that they did? Can he only steal physical objects or can he also steal something incorporeal like virtual data?
Looks at someone who's super nice and knows "this person stole the lives of twenty men on the fields of battle" and exactly how it was done, or looks at someone who seems like an every day joe and discovers a serial killer because his senses ping off like "this person stole the lives of fifteen women all in the same manner".
All thievery is his domain; theft of life, theft of information, theft of physical items....
bro got labeled the Ancient of Thieves and became the patron Ancient of not just thieves, but murderers and liars.
I am, without question, reaching here. But could the definition of "steal" be stretched to say that Danny stole his soul back from the afterlife to become a halfa? Or maybe stole the ectoplasm from the realms to do it?
I ask because I think a neat downside would be how Danny can lose his high king status (yes also by getting his face punched hard enough) by potentially having his most prized possession stolen and thus being "out-thiefed." Or maybe it can be a spectrum. Stealing his pencil is still stealing from the thief GOAT, but it's small and unimportant so you don't get much of a boost. Stealing his teddy bear that he sleeps with every night: important, in secure location, literally kept in arms reach for a third of all time, that'll turn a no name arcane type into a game-changing threat. Steal the soul that Danny took back from the infinite realms themselves? You get to become the new high king. Now everyone who's anyone, in a very literal sense, wants a piece of him.
I finished putting together the Irish-American heritage month display and Jesus CHRIST there are so few books about Ireland in our collection?? Once more, I must say:
[Image Id1: The two people shaking hands meme, one side is labelled "koreans", the other labelled "the irish" with their shared characteristic being "a lot of stuff". /.End Id1]
[Image Id2: The above image but the shared characteristic changing to: "- History of colonization by powers that won't admit to their crimes; exteremly angry about it / - Previously unified country split into 2: a North part and a Republic of ___ part / - Diasporas in Americas / - Historical famines / - Reputations for alcoholism and devout religion / - Books are all about bottling up feelings and getting depressed or angry or both / - Stews". /.End Id2]
[Image Id3: A comment on this post by user @shorthistorian saying "Cabbage?"./.End Id3]
Did you just legitimately tell me that a person who draws wolf ass is more competent than a dude who spent 8+ years in a university to give you your lung transplant?
doctors are bullshit and furry artists perform an infinitely more valuable service to society compared to them
It took doctor’s like 10 years to diagnose what was wrong with me, some insisting I was faking for attention while a furry artist I knew just went “that sounds like crohn’s” after hearing me complain once and ended up being right
Also I can’t go to a doctor and ask them to draw Rouge the Bat wider than she is tall with tits to match, now can I
i dont consider myself a 'fashion guru' by any means but one thing i will say is guys you dont need to know the specific brand an item you like is - you need to know what the item is called. very rarely does a brand matter, but knowing that pair of pants is called 'cargo' vs 'boot cut' or the names of dress styles is going to help you find clothes you like WAAAYYYY faster than brand shopping
this also goes for aesthetic or -core titles. 'y2k tank top' is going to get you resellers and fast fashion brands advertising to people looking to meet a current trend. 'thin strap crop tank top' is going to get you a diverse group of results and not upcharge you to hell and back
additionally, shop second hand when you can, second hand and thrift sites typically organize clothes by the cut and color. theyll be more affordable than a depop seller curating you a style to sell you
here are more terms! these are all from enérie. it is a really good blog that has lots of fashion terminology and it's a good mix of menswear and womenswear! they also have a book as well compiling all their diagrams. you could also look into getting a visual fashion dictionary for terms as well!
