#“he was destined for so much more”

[lostrealities0]

Ok Bill

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[sammygender]

its so so insane how dean has like. the huge fanbase he does. he is AWFUL!!!! i love him truly but im known for loving awful characters in fandoms im used to characters who act like him being viciously hated!!! and the only explanation i can think of is that hes played by jensen ackles (aka pretty white man). theres the fact that the narrative favours dean a lot when hes not actually right (a la s4) but thats not just it because dean is pretty clear-cut presesnted as getting morally greyer to the point of antihero territory in like s9 (where im at) at least. and Yet. he is unproblematic ally king to all??? supportive brother of the century??? Girl what???? do you know who dean winchester is? he is a controlling possessive clingy manipulative aggressive unstable thirty five year old who cant grow past his own damage and never really will because the narrative is perpetuated by the cycles he keeps perpetuating

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - The World That Never Was

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[margoshamangolord]

guys is this real?

[vvienne]

I literally woke up in the middle of the night like God will dark rise is so fucking screwed. The line that’s like. “Everyone wanted to kill the Dark King.” What’s the part where he looks at Violet helplessly, haunted, almost pleading for mercy? But of course he reveals nothing of substance to anyone. Elizabeth is too young to understand but the reader knows what “Her relationship with that boy was…unnatural” can mean. Tying him to bedposts? Failing to strangle him? What else? Never not even once seeing beyond a mythological identity Will himself didn’t know he had? What did he think was the reason? That he was just intrinsically hateful? Of course he says nothing. Of course Violet can’t trust him- he’s given her nothing as painfully real as what she’s given him. So he gives her the sword hoping at least he can die at the hands of someone he loved, but even that doesn’t work out - she gives the sword to a Visander still furious at SARCEAN. The pattern continues; no one looks at Will, who vomits when he realizes what’s happened to James, Will who is much of a liar and killer and sneak as Elizabeth accuses but nonetheless wants to be different. Even when he doesn’t remember his own past. There’s no way out for him that doesn’t hurt. Hope this obsession passes soon given the one and a half years of waiting required for book 3

[bitchthefuck1]

you know what, I actually will talk about this because it's bothering me. The issue with focussing so heavily on syd and carmy's potential for a romantic relationship isn't that there's something inherently unintellectual about romance or whatever, it's that a lot of people seem incapable of doing that without immediately flattening the story and ignoring or intentionally misreading any and all nuance for the sake of that romance. Every scene suddenly becomes about how it impacts their relationship, every analysis is done through a romantic lens, every frame or line of dialogue becomes about finding some easter egg or hint that "proves" these people should start dating. Their dynamic is absolutely a fundamental part of this show, but if you can only see it as a will-they-won't-they, you miss so much of what the story is actually trying to say with these two.

There are good versions of this story where their relationship is romantic and there are good versions of this story where it isn't, but as soon as you decide them being together is "the point," you lose the ability to actually judge the story for what it is, not what you want it to be.

[amelikos]

Something so interesting to me about the way they are depicting Gibeon's close friendships, while Amethio still doesn't have such bonds with others yet.

[ninyard]

what if I took some of my regular ocs and turned them into aftg ocs. What Then

[ludinusdaleth]

i am 100% saying this with a bias as a ludinus fan and do not consider this some canon intention (mooostly) but just in the same way lucien was a ghost of a lost m9 member, destined to be in their party but in an echo of another life, i consider ludinus, in a way, the same - if more wraith than ghost. if lucien looks at the mighty nein and swears he cant recognize them as molly screams in his head they're family, ludinus looks at the bells hells and recognizes them instantly as himself, utterly alone but not alone, as some tiny part of him in essek's voice says "you should try friends sometime", and another screams that it's far too late.

[druidonity2]

2021 Shadowlands fanart.

[jankwritten]

Jasico Bingo Challenge: love letter

A sheet of paper, folded into thirds, dotted in places with what must be water and grass stains. The handwriting is legible in some places, and shaky in others. In the margins are small doodles of birds, clouds, trees, and other miscellaneous, abstract shapes, as if the writer’s mind kept wandering. 

TO: Nico di Angelo 

FROM: Jason Grace 

Hey, Nico. If you’re reading this, something probably happened to me. Maybe I hit my head again and lost my memories, or something, and you went through my stuff to try and find things to remind me of who I was. Maybe this fell out while we were hanging out, one day, and you saw it was addressed to you and you picked it up. Maybe I died—

However you found this, I guess, surprise! :) 

First thing’s first: I’m sorry for leaving. I know I begged you to stay, and then turned around and left, and I really hope you understand - I didn’t leave because of you. I needed to find Leo, and leaving with Piper was the easiest way to do that. I had to try and get him back. 

I wanted you to come with, but you were still healing and things were going really well with you and Will. I hope things still are, in fact. Wherever I am, I’m so proud of you for how far you’ve come, and how much I’m sure you continued to grow even after I left. 

I really love you, man. I never got to tell you that, but you’re one of my best, closest friends. You mean so much to me. You showed me a side of the world that I never would’ve seen otherwise, and gave me a space to be myself, and I will never, ever know how I deserved that. How I deserve you. 

Is that out of left field? Haha it definitely is. Sorry. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico. I didn’t want to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I had to go and I’m sorry it had to be me, but it couldn’t be her, Nico, it can’t be her, it can’t be. It has to be me. 

It has to be. 

Here, some of the words are smeared from the water marks. Lines cross through some words that have then been re-written, as if in after-thought the author realized they were too important to delete. 

If you really are reading this, after the worst case scenario, I understand if you’re angry. I understand if you never want to think about me again, after what I’ve done. I’ll understand if you storm to your father’s palace and demand I be placed in the worst of the worst punishments for being so stupid. 

Gods. Gods, Nico, I’m never going to get to tell you how I really feel. About all of this, about everything I’m going through, I’m never going to be able to tell you and that hurts. It hurts more than knowing I’m going to die, it hurts more than getting stabbed and poisoned. I’m going to die loving you and you won’t even know until it’s too late. 

Maybe this is a stupid bad idea. Maybe I should let it die with me. Is it cruel, to tell you how I feel if I’m gone? Does this make me an awful person? 

Shit. I think I’m an awful person, Nico. I’m awful and I’m selfish and I can never choose things for myself, it always has to be for the greater good, so this is it. This is as selfish as I can be. This is all I can be for you. 

I want to see you on the other side. I want you to punch me for getting myself killed and hate me for being a hero and I want you to know that I didn’t want this but it needed to be me. It has to be me. 

I’m still wrapping my head around it, but it has to be me, okay? So if I’m really gone when you’re reading this, okay, you have to let me stay gone. Please. If you get hurt, if you die, and it’s my fault, I could never— 

Here, the letter abruptly stops. Then, it continues: 

That’s all I wanted to say, anyway. That I love you. I love you in any way I can, and even if I’ve done it silently, and stupidly, from a distance, just know that it was there, the whole time. It’s still there, wherever I am. Dead, or lost, or whatever. I love you, Nico. I’m sorry.

-- Jason Grace :)

[delusionalblfan]

you know what i miss the most? a stable mental state

[storm-saturn]

incoming: another fucking voltron rant because i watched a langst edit and now i wanna cry😭😭

they did not take time. they did not slow that show down for a little bit. especially for lance. cause he did not getting a fucking moment to find himself again after he FUCKING DIED. we saw him homesick, we saw him missing his family, we saw him insecure about his position on the team, we saw him insecure about himself, but we never actually saw him go anywhere else but being sad. he really did get barely any character development.

and tbh i feel like in a way just all the characters didnt have a moment to slow down. and i know, i know, its a kids show, its about fucking robots for fucks sake, theyre in the middle of a war. which, yeah. youre right. but there couldve been so much more, for him, for all of them. what about them? as people, with feelings. where are there emotions. why is it only sadness and happiness and not the enitre confusing spectrum of emotion between. does pidge not feel lost after she finds her brother? yeah, hes back, but i bet she didnt imagine she would be fighting an intergalactic war, and now matt is too. she imagined family dinner, brother barging into her room, dad making corny jokes, house happier and full of life.

hunks family was put in a fucking work camp. he had seen this across the galaxy, zarkons army imprisoning people, making them work, killing them. did he imagine that for earth ? did he imagine that for his family? how the fuck did he cope fighting a war, anxious as he is? how did he cope at all?

shiro isnt even in his fucking original body. thats fucking weird. im not saying that in a rude way bc like yeah, organ transplants are a thing irl, and a major life saving thing they are ! but like, how odd it must be to have someone elses kidney or heart in your body. nevermind to have your entire soul and conciousness put into another body, you but not really you.

keiths life,,, dude probably just doesnt even give anything a second fucking thought anymore. but like, could they not have shown him showing some more emotion. fair enough if he doesnt always cry in the moment but rather late on, but you'd think seeing allura die, they wouldve at least put some tears in his eyes. he had fucking no one before he had voltron. only shiro, and even then he was alone for so long when shiro had been on his mission. you cant tell me he didnt want to think of voltron as his family. they bonded :(

and lance, gosh lance. i feel like, if we looks at this as it is, lance would be the character that people think back on and go "oh yeah, he helped me accept my emotions, he helped me become the best version of me and gain confidence in who i am". in the fandom hes seen as someone with big emotions that he wears on his sleeve, but also someone who will put everyone else and their needs before himself.

he's a story of self-sacrifice, quite literally. he's the story of sincere love, of casual admiration. he's the story of the most wonderful friend, of loyalty, of no, I'll step down because there's a cause bigger than me, and im not the one for the job when there's people like my friends and you on the team.

and no one wanted to explore that? no one wanted to see him do more than just, what? flirt and literally die and fall in love and barely find his place on team voltron? that was it for him. it shouldn't have been, but it was.

[rainintheevening]

Caspian IX & Caspian X

There was a time / I used to look into my father's eyes / In a happy home / I was a king, I had a golden throne / Those days are gone ... I remember how it all changed / My father said / Don't you worry, don't you worry child / See Heaven's got a plan for you /Don't you worry / Don't you worry now

- 'Don't You Worry Child' cover by Kurt Schneider & Sam Tsui

For @an-angels-fury because this song has been making me feel things.