#||Writing this really hurt my soul||

[gale-force-storm]

I'm really just Feeling Things tonight about the conversation with Gale after Elminster's visit and like. Gale is So Insistent that if Mystra says he needs to blow himself up, then it must be the best option. The only option. And of course he is! Because what's the alternative? If there's another way, any other way, that means either

1. Mystra doesn't care enough to consider whether there might be another option. Gale blowing himself up is the easiest solution, so that's what she goes with. Or, even worse,

2. She does know there's other options, but tells him to sacrifice himself anyways, because it gets rid of two of her problems at once.

Gale doesn't just assume she's right because she's a goddess. He goes along with it because of what it implies about him, and her, and how she sees him if there is another way. He has to believe that this is the only option. Because the alternative? That he's disposable at best and actively unwanted at worst? That's just too much to bear.

[mrsoharaa]

you didn't think too much into the simple graze of the newest spider-mans fingers gently brisking over yours as he takes his leave. the sweet, noble male that personally tended to you from your former strenuous, chaotic mission that led you to having a wounded leg. thus putting you right into the spider society's med bay.

you wave him off with a friendly smile, your eyes quickly sweeping over ever so attentively to the left to note Miguel's intent stare. pretty globes of soft cardinal leering behind the new, overly tending spider-man leaving the medical room you resided in. bearing directly into the back of the generous mans skull with such fueling rage and hatred.

his hardened glare sweeps back over to meet yours through the crystalline glass of the mirror into your medical room. thick brows that once tightened ever so firmly and searing wrath pooling into those glorious irises of pure ruby, immediately softening to your delicate gaze. a tinge of hurt and remorse instantly building up in the conflicted mans chest, immensely.

your heart flutters against your own, capturing the shorten, soften gaze of swarming distraught and longing clinging into those beautiful, intense eyes of his. your lush lips slowly part from each other, attempting to gather words to accumulate towards the man — but only failed, inescapably, when everything within you blared at you not to engage with him. not to engage with the very man that put you through with so much unbinding hurt and betrayal. the very same man that slowly, treacherously broke and tore you from piece by piece.

your pupils dilate, closing your agape lips promptly as your fingers crumble amongst the thin sheets of the medical beds bedding. you turn your head, shielding back the hot, thick tears swelling at the brims of your lashes. trying to not crumble before the very man that you inevitably fell in love with, during your previous time together (during your little "stress distressing" lascivious sessions).

the very same man that slowly, treacherously broke and tore you from piece by piece. promises of unfulfilled, unattainable pledges of comforting enlightenment and console, crumbling with the shattered fragments of your broken heart.

[zedif-y]

"wow the emotions in this feel so REAL" thanks i yanked that out from my ribcage for the world to see

[feyd-meowtha]

A Pain That I'm Used To Ch 13: Haunted House

When Paul awoke the dawn was grey, highlighted in blues and yellows where the rising sun hit the frost. At some point while he had been asleep the fire had burned out and the embers twinkled in the hearth, playful and inviting. Paul spared a look at Feyd who was lying with his eyes closed. Something about the stress in his shoulders made Paul suspect that he wasn’t actually asleep but he couldn’t be sure so he didn’t disturb him, thinking it best to let him rest. Coaxing the fire back to life was a quick task and soon they were once again toasty warm, the thin layer of ice that had formed on the windows thawed and dripped in miniature waterfalls onto the window-sills making rhythmic pattering sound.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 9

Wallmasters

*Downs cofffe like a shot* Also know as The One Where Legend Did Not Collaborate, and the reason all other prompts are late along with exam season so I'm not fully satisfied with it even with the Hollow Knight ost, the Link Between Worlds ost, tea and spite carrying this. Ah well, I'll just do my best to catch up and maybe rewrite it to give Legend more justice later, this is a self indulgent little series anyway. Having a lot of fun with the other prompts for both Linktober and Linktober Shadow. Legend is my second true Link (Time being the first and Twilight the second), so this goes out for him and his fans, he's such a complex Link and I shall do my best to do him proper justice in the future.

As always can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, and before anyone asks yes I am making Reader gender neutral on purpose, whatever gender they are is up to ya'll lol.

Walking through Dungeons could be a fifty fifty experience.

On one hand, the loot was usually always good and it could be a pretty thrilling or simple experience, on the other hand, the danger was very, very real, between the monsters and many puzzles and traps, it sets every hero on edge, even if most weren’t used to the structure of dungeons all of them could recognize danger at every corner.

Which was why when hearing a faint skittering from the shadows of the abandoned ruins and seeing Legend twitching for his sword, you were immediately on alert, making sure to speak lowly and to keep yourself in his sights (it was a hard won crumb of knowledge, that Legend preferred to have any members of the group in his line of sight if possible, but easy enough to accommodate and you would not question it, didn’t need to), “Any guesses, hero?”

Legend pursed his lips, eyes flicking to the sides then the open fissures of the floor, undoubtedly leading either to a long way down to the previous floor or many broken bones – most likely the second really with a healthy heaping of painful death on top – and then above, cursing as he shoved you back against the doorway alcove with a grimace, “Wallmasters. You better be ready to book it for the chest when I tell you to, got it? I am not fighting my way back down just to drag you back up. We need to take those out if possible.”

You nodded,  grim as you tightened your grip onto your sword, you knew Legend wouldn't, he'd never be the one to leave someone first, but you could agree that getting separated in a dungeon with black blooded monsters in it was a recipe for disaster.

"One.", you squinted at the shadows above,  trying to make out the scratching of long, sharp claws over stone, vision wasn't always the most reliable sense in the dark.

"Two." Legend's grip on the fire rod shifted, more used to spotting these things than you are, you'll just have to follow your reliable veteran's lead.

"Go!" He snapped, and you didn't hesitate, the door was locked so you'd need the key as urgently as possible-

You jump to the side, a 'SLAM!' rocking the dungeon floor to it's foundations, you slash away at a nearby keese swarm with a curse as Legend sets the Wallmaster alight. It doesn't scream but it does shudder, nails racking over the floor with an awful, cutting sound, leaving black gouges that you are sure you'd hate to be touched by, "Any others?!"

Legend flicks his gaze up,  switching to his sword a heartbeat later  to his other hand and slashing at the smaller hands which rose from the death of it's progenitor, their nail rake over his sword with a screech and bones crunch over his boot, "Not yet, go grab the key!"

You don't need to hear it twice,  quickly kicking the chest open with no hesitation, grabbing the key. You hiss as one of the smaller hands escape one of Legend's guard and make a grab for your ankle, it's claws sink into your flesh and it hurts like hell but you persevere, making a break for the door. As soon as you open it you can work on dealing with the blood and undoubtlety quickly rotting flesh.

A second 'SLAM!' rocks the ground, Legend snarls, cutting through the second Wallmaster with a lot more difficult than he ought to, when it's blood comes black,  backing off from the crawling hands, conserving as much magic as he can as the hand returns to the  ceiling, dripping ink down into the ground, "An exit any second now would be really nice you know!"

"I'm working on it Din damnit!" You growl back, slotting the key into the slot and bashing your leg agaisnt an uneven leg, it hurts but it also hurts the hand, letting you go with a sickening crack of bone, you twist the key and hear the tell tale click of a lock opening, you turn back to Legend with a relieved breath, "Quick, come help me open it!"

Legend nods, baring his teeth back in a smirk as he helps you push open the door, black blood drips in front of you both, making his blood freeze.

"GET BACK!", He hollers, tackling you down into the ground, you both go through the door with a curse, your head almost cracking against the solid, old brick floor if not for Legend's hand, the space where you both were shakes as the wounded Wallmaster comes down, curls it's slashed fingers into a loose fist, as much as it could when burned and slashed.

All is silent, and you both finally breath at ease, Legend offering his hand to you with a sigh, "Come on, let's get out of this thrice damned dungeon already. Make sure not to keel over on me."

You accept, scoffing, hip checking him as soon as you're up, "As if I'd let you have all the fun, Leg."

You and him, however, wholeheartedly agree in your shared hatred of Wallmasters.

If you don't call out the shaking of Legend's hand when he pulled you up, or the hint of red on his face or the way you both stick close to one another as you continue through the dungeon. You'll just chalk it up to poor visibility and the want to not be separated.

[uniiiquehecrt]

https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/story/chris-hemsworth-cover-story

It's like the Prequels again. Everyone blamed the actors when it's the director who deserves the blame.

OKAY BUT REAL TALK I ACTUALLY JUST READ THIS WHOLE ARTICLE BEFORE CHECKING MY BLOG RIGHT NOW AND I JUST NEED TO SAY THAT CHRIS BEING SO DOWN AND OUT ABOUT HIS ROLE IN THE MCU IS SO SAD TO ME.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way: to put my full thoughts into words... I want to say first that Robert Downey Jr. has this to say about Chris (in response to Chris feeling like he's not as important or as cool as the other heroes):

"Thor as a character was super tricky to adapt [...] but he and Ken Branagh figured out how to transcend, make him somehow relatable but godlike. Hemsworth is, in my opinion, the most complex psyche out of all of us Avengers. He's got wit and gravitas, but also such restraint, fire, and gentleness."

And this is SO true. He took the words out of my mouth.

Reading the article.. and how and where Chris notes feelings of inadequacy, or feeling he's complaining to much (and therefore being narcissistic by complaining), the burning himself out, etc. Suffice it to say I was struck by one thing in particular: There's a lot of Chris in Thor. A LOT of Chris in Thor. It's not a surprise to me, in that case, that he felt down and out about his role in the Avengers, and the MCU as a whole when Thor is, inherently, consequently, alien. But alien in the sense of being SO important, SO regal, so otherworldly in sheer scope and in depth that where he fit in was ... quite simply grander than the others in the overall scheme of things.

It was the Asgardians who brought the Tesseract to Earth and safeguarded it, and the Aether. Two entire infinity stones within their protection. That, is Thor. Who was the one to have a vision about the role of the infinity stones? Thor in "Avengers: Age of Ultron". Who was the one to bring the Vision to life? Thor, also in "Avengers: Age of Ultron". Who was the one to realize as far back as "The Avengers" (2012) that someone was working behind Loki? It was still Thor.

And what I find most interesting is that Chris isn't exactly wrong about what he says here:

"Sometimes I felt like the security guard for the team," he says. "I would read everyone else's lines, and go, Oh, they got way cooler stuff. They're having more fun. What's my character doing? It was always about, 'You've got the wig on. You've got the muscles. You've got the costume. Where's the lightning?' Yeah I'm part of this big thing, but I'm probably pretty replaceable."

Ignoring for a moment that this is absolutely not at ALL the truth, it's not a surprise to me that he felt this way for... particular people and branches within the overarching fandom spaces I won't name for the sanctity of this post. And it is unendingly sad to me to have undeniable proof from the horse's mouth that Chris lost sight of how much depth and beauty he brought to the table as Thor. And how important Thor is as a result.

And yet, I honestly don't blame him FOR losing sight of that. There's a lot he had to - and still has to - contend with. And almost everybody sleeps on his portrayal of Thor in particular. It's depressing to see.

RDJ saying he's got the most complex psyche is so true. Gentle and gravitas, restrained but filled with fire. I love that about Thor. I will always love that about Thor.

I genuinely hope, with Chris seemingly realizing just how far out of touch he fell whilst chasing the high that Taika Waititi's dipshit behavior allowed him to chase, that he does do better. Performs better. But I mean that more in the sense of...

Chris, should you ever happen to read even a small part of this: I hope that you fall back in love with Thor. And I hope you see how lovely he is - and has always been - specifically because of your portrayal of him. You and Thor are not replaceable. You're not boring. At no point have you ever been. And I hope for your last foray into Thor's franchise you get to feel the energy you did when you first put on the costume in the first place. When the costume came on, and it felt like it just fit, and you were transformed into the character entirely. I hope your final goodbye to Thor is filled with all of the love that you first welcomed his part to play with; for you and for all of us.

– and sappiness aside, genuinely, I really do hope that Thor 5 can be a film that Chris feels proud to be a part of. A note he's proud to end on. He deserves it; we all do.

[g00ngala]

ok im sure it's probably a very small portion of my follower base that has watched all of tmnt 2003 but i'm like 5 episodes deep in s6/ fast forward and am I the only one who thinks this is boring and kind of bad.

[doctorweebmd]

okay. yeahhh no it’s official. its yearly depressive episode time.

[sandsofsolstice]

"it'd be fun to stream my art on twitch or something" i think and then this is my wip

[queseraphita]

*sees the stargazer right next to the boss room knowing exactly who I'm up against* oh... how kind of them... :)

[ladynicte]

Really wanna write fics but also it's kinda hard when I know I won't really get any interaction back from the months of hard work it will surely take

[evanescentdawn]

Jealously

pairing(s): jang uk/cho yeong | naksu | mudeok | jin buyeon

tags: set in season one, jealousy, angst, hurt no comfort, :’)

rating: teens

summary:

A sudden, powerful emotion seizes her at the sight of another at by Jang Wook’s side, their hands on him, dressing him, despite how the servant is only doing their job.

She doesn’t like it that it’s not her.

It’s a feeling that bewilders her into silence — Mudeok stands there, like a statue, watching them.

This is ridiculous.

Her being a maid is only a cover, an identity she will eventually discard. Why is she being like this?

[Mudeok experiences Jealousy and deals with it Badly]

[READ ON AO3]

[blue-eyed-giant]

i would rather stab myself than write yearbook for this one specific guy

[troubadour-malin]

vent in the tags!

[casekt]

[ct-hardcase]

I have my bones to pick with Soule's writing sometimes, but there's always the feeling of the Jedi Order feeling like home and a community that binds its members together when in his work