#(but no death - I'm not that awful)

[evelina-maar]

Gypsy Taylor, the woman that you are

[calciumdreams]

.

[danielslaw]

MATT SMITH AS PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN AND CARAXES THE BLOOD WYRM. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON ONE.

[radiance1]

Linked to this post about Billy, Danny, and Vlad meeting in a dream. Tagging @puppetmaster13u because I think they'd like this!

The world was being invaded, taking the chance that some of the core members of the Justice League were away off-world to take the world when it was down on its defenses.

Billy is fighting and saving as many people as he could along with the rest of the heroes presents, they just had to hold out for reinforcements, which is the last few members of the League off world to rejoin their ranks. Billy may have the magic of gods on his side, but he is severely outnumbered and, being one of the powerhouses, has been targeted consistently over and over and barely given any time to actually rest.

So, there he is, battered, bruised, and overall exhausted but still putting up a decent fight. He tries to lead them away from basically everyone else, attacking as he flew away to a secluded enough area but there's just too many to actually do any notable damage.

So, he pulls out one, final, Shazam.

It works. But it also doesn't.

Whatever damage that lightning did, more just flowed in to replace them and Billy knew that even if he fired off another one, the result would be the same.

This is where he will die.

And he accepted that.

He didn't, but what else was he supposed to do?

So, he screwed his eyes shut and hoped that being ripped apart wouldn't be too painful.

Only, nothing happened for a moment. Then another. And another. Until he finally opened his eyes to see the enemies stopped still in their tracks and, for some reason, everything seemed darker somehow.

They looked up in fear and apprehension, so Billy looked up too.

Something had risen from his shadow.

A being of never-ending black that towered over them, its head tilted at an angle that made Billy cringe with eyes that seemed to see through and at them all at once. Then, it lit up with red, and Billy, the closest to it, could suddenly see the stars upon stars inside of its body.

Like a Christmas tree. Billy thought, chuckling at his own joke. If he was going to die anyways, might as well have a bit of fun, right?

One of the invaders tried to make a dash and grab for him.

Then, the overwhelming sound of silence deafened him. Billy didn't even know that was a thing that could happen but as soon it screamed? Roared? Whatever it did, every other sound just... ceased to exist.

A tendril of darkness wrapped around him, and Billy accepted his fate.

Nothing happened.

Instead, the ones who tried to kill him were killed without mercy. Tendrils of darker yet darker lit up with red and containing stars that looked so much like too many eyes crushed, slashed, stabbed, consumed the waves upon waves of enemies that Billy struggled against from pure number alone.

It was swift, it was deadly, it was even brutally efficient but above all.

It was confusing.

This... being. Whatever it was, wasn't doing anything to him, the red glow it gave off just faded, leaving back the true darkness that was its body and shutting off the stars. It slowly, ever so slowly, shrunk itself down from its towering height, as if wary of another attack coming from somewhere.

Not for itself, but for him.

For Billy.

He didn't know how he could tell that, but somehow, he just did?

It was looking at him, curiously? He thinks? And with the adrenaline fading from his system, being replaced by confusion, it finally sets in just how tired he was. With a yawn forcing itself from his lips and his eyes trying to close on their own when his body apparently decided it was safe enough to just rest.

Before his mind jumpstarted itself as he suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of an invasion, and he need to leave. He tried too, at the very least, but another tendril, and another one, wrapped around him as soon as he tried.

He struggled to get himself out, but nothing he tried worked. He barely had the strength for another Shazam, but he was prepared to try-

A tendril wrapped itself around his mouth.

Well.

That was unfortunate.

Then, the world turned dark.

---

He was dreaming, again. Or at least he thinks he was. Usually, he wasn't aware of it most of the time, but this was also one of those weird dreams he's been having for a while.

There was no ground, there was no sky. There was only the vibrant colors of space with the 'ground' being rolling clouds of all sorts of colors that twinkled with stars and the 'sky' was just an endless expanse filled with constellations.

"Billy." A voice echoed his name, and Billy turned around to face a familiar sight he's always seen inside of his dreams. A large, large merman with scales and flowing hair akin to that of a galaxy that glimmered with stars and a large golden mask floating above his head stared down at him. Eyes filled with both concern and a overwhelming relief. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Um, hey Danny!" Billy greeted, awkwardly waving at the large celestial being that has been occupying his dreams as of late. For some reason, he was a bit embarrassed? He really hopes he didn't see how he was getting jumped actually. "Yea I'm-I'm fine!" He struck a familiar pose that he always did as Shazam and flashed his signature smile as while.

Danny was, unfortunately, not amused.

"Child, you need to rest." Danny said, more like thought because his mouth wasn't moving at all. "You're exhausted, stay here and rest."

"But they need help!" Billy countered, dropping his pose to cross his arms and, well, scowl. He tried to imitate one of Batman's glares, when the celestial above him looked unimpressed he could tell he most likely failed.

"And help they shall receive." Danny inclined his head in a direction, clouds parting to reveal an inky blackness that had something instinctual in Billy's body shy away from it. He glanced down at his feet warily. He didn't even know that was there! "Vlad." Danny called out, and red eyes peered out from the void, before the familiar, towering body of complete and utter darkness rose from the pool of, well, emptiness. It looked at Danny curiously and, yep, Billy was still cringing from the way it angled its neck.

"A piece of him there," Danny said as Vlad shifted around him, wrapping its body around Danny's before resting its head on his shoulder and looking down at Billy too. "Unfortunately, I cannot help you, it is too far for me to make it there myself. But Vlad was able to send a piece of himself to help you and I believe that is more than enough to turn the tides in your favor."

Billy shrunk into himself as Danny's gaze turned into a stern glare, not too dissimilar to the way he's seen parents scolding their children and, what made it even worse, Vlad looked at him and mimicked him! How was he supposed to defend himself against that!?

"So rest." Danny's voice was stern, and he thinks Vlad chimed in as well, if these random feelings basically telling him the same thing were anything to go by. Billy still didn't know how he could tell that. Billy could fight against this; he could say no and try to wake himself up to back out there and help people, but looking at the stern, parental glares he's on the opposite end of he just huffed. "Fine."

---

When Billy woke up, everything seemed okay, thankfully. The sky wasn't filled with fleets anymore, so that was a plus. He was in the aftermath of a battle, corpses strewn about along with rubble and pieces of shattered armor.

Billy blinked.

'Vlad' was wrapped around him, in a protective sort of way he thinks, and Billy let the thought 'Okay, this is actually pretty comfortable' run across his mind. He was still pretty tired, actually, and-

Oh hey, he actually still had his communicator? He thought that fell off or was destroyed the lightning.

Billy turned it. He cringed a bit at the way it flashed with static, before letting out a small sigh of relief when it cleared up. He looked over the messages from -apparently the last few hours (and wasn't that crazy?)- the time he was asleep and slumped against Vlad's form seeing that, yes, nothing bad happened and everyone else was safe.

I'm alive! Was the first message he sent before he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. Instantly, messages exploded and caused a series of dings on his communicator, all of which were asking where he was, if he was okay, and if he knew what that creature that suddenly joined their battle was.

A friend! Was what he typed, muting his communicator while shutting it off. Did that answer anything? Nope! Did Billy feel like clearing that up right now? Also no!

That is a future Billy's problem! Present Billy is going to go back to sleep!

[shivunin]

the fact that you start the Tabris origin by literally stepping into your mother's shoes. the fact that what you get is a wedding outfit and your mother's worn boots, kept carefully intact for years, tucked away for this exact moment. the fact that you then immediately take the path she never could, leaving behind the alienage and the wedding and following Duncan (who would have recruited Adaia first, if not for baby!Tabris) to what ought to have been death.

And Then!! instead of fighting and falling as she did, cheating death and becoming the fighter she always intended you to be instead??? Reliving and simultaneously subverting the story of her life??

[thordy]

[gloriousmonsters]

ok listen. listen. hear me out. what if Angel was the one to propose the contract

like.... the intensification of heartbreak and guilt when Val tells him 'I own you, or have you forgotten that?' as Angel looks at his signature, the heart he drew next to it. the extra layer in 'what's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself'. and above all it plays well with my observation that their contract had to have been composed with some level of input from Angel, because... why on earth/in hell would Val have given him control of his life outside of the studio; and while Val invokes the contract to put Angel back in 'his place', Angel invokes it to remind Valentino that he can defy him. It's actually similar in composition to a kink contract/agreement--if I'm in this specific place, you hold all the power and call the shots; but outside of it, I don't give you that level of control. Angel can straight up tell Val to fuck off in front of a crowd and all Val can do is say he'll make Angel regret it next time he's in the studio (and isn't that an extremely dark variation of the classic kinky romance beat of 'sub misbehaves when they're in public and can get away with it, dom promises they'll pay for it later'?)

so like. all of that about the contract also works if Val proposed it, but I love headcanoning that their relationship was on the rocks around the time it was signed, and one of the factors was Vox coming onto the scene... and so now i'm just thinking about Angel in his peak era of both-sides-ing their relationship problems, knowing his 'commitment issues' (partly real, partly consisting of val's 'you know other men??' issues) are a major cause, furious and disconcerted at someone else drawing so much of Val's attention, wanting to make a stupid desperate Hail Mary pass to save their relationship but devoid of the usual options of 'have kid' or 'impulsively propose marriage' or 'move to a new house that's inevitably haunted' i watch too much horror, going for the option of '...hey do you want to make the kind of binding contract that is accessible to us?'

and surely it's not that stupid! he's only really giving Val a formal version of the power he gives him already, right? Val's his dom and his director and manager, and maybe there's... problems but it's mostly been great for Angel so far, so if having it on (magic eternally binding) paper would make Val happy and make him understand that Angel really wants him, wants them, the risk is toooootally worth it. just, best not to tell Cherri about it she'd definitely think it was insane.

(and when, much later, she learns about the contract and berates him for being an idiot and not telling her when Val brought it up, maybe don't correct her assumption. just keep it to yourself and feel even worse.)

[khaotunq]

Max Nattapol as Tan and Tul Pakorn as Bun (Manner of Death, 2020)

[uncanny-tranny]

I love you smile lines and worry lines and grey and white hair and wrinkles and purple spiderweb veins and the process of aging and living in a body that is standing the test of times. I love you experiences that make you wiser and stories that make you laugh, and every little process that happens to get to the point where you have so many memories because you have the fortune to be here and be so radiant

[notfeelingthyaster]

"jason is bruce's favorite child" no, bruce treated jason horribly multiple times.

"cass is bruce's favorite child" no, that's a fanon cop-out, as is cass as batman.

bruce's favorite changes by the run but it's probably nightwing.

[rad-roche]

i'm looking forward to getting to that eddie winter comic (it's on ice while i work on Other Thing) because a game can only do so much. nick gets a snappy one liner off and then the speech outside, which i really like. but a noir fan comic by a strange woman on the internet... anything is possible. what if it was hyperviolent and torturous for everybody involved. hrm. what if indeed

[the-spider-in-your-livingroom]

"Wow! What a cool thing! I sure hope the creators aren't massive fuckwa-"

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Another thing about uncharitable readings of how Ed reacts to Izzy's ""love"" confession - genuinely, how was Ed supposed to react? How could he really be expected to give Izzy the benefit of the doubt?

As viewers, we're shown that the realization he's expendable and Ed does not value him as much Izzy values keeping the Blackbeard persona alive has deeply affected Izzy. We can see he's beginning to rethink things. We know that when he approaches Ed and says he wants to "talk it through," he's being genuine.

But why would Ed believe that? We were shown in s1 that every time Ed tried to talk to Izzy and share things with him, Izzy would mock him, shut him down, try to force him into talking about what Izzy wants to talk about. Izzy consistently dismissed Ed's feelings, pressured him into doing things he didn't want to do (like with pushing him to kill Stede even though Izzy by his own admission knew Ed adored him), and the last thing he did in the first season was play on Ed's trauma to convince him that he's just a monster and he's never going to be deserving of vulnerability and love.

So how is Ed's disgusted "oh come onnnnn" suprising? He's got to be assuming that Izzy's just goading him, maybe worrying that his Blackbeard facade is slipping - he's certainly not going to take Izzy's love confession and offer to talk it through as legit. And when he shoots Izzy, it's because Izzy has, yet again, blamed everything that's happening on "Ed's feelings" for Stede. How is any of this behavior surprising given Ed and Izzy's history?

[hauntinglyghostie]

inseparable. a shadow and its source. life and death. as much as you want to tear away the thought of him, you can't. you stood by him, and his shadow lingers.

also here's this TERRIBLY shitty drawing I made inspired by @denimscotch saying Lysandre needs to "take a chill pill. make slime or something" and @rainbowpufflez encouraged me to actually post it.

[inwiste]

saw a post about hashirama potentially having ocular albinism based on his first appearance having light eyes like tobirama... i got carried away

“You overdid yourself again.” 

He anticipates the touch before it arrives. Tobirama’s fingers are cool where they find his temples, fanning out to rest gently on the crown of his head. His eyes remain shut, body relaxing of its own accord. 

“You need to wear the glasses, anija.” There’s a sharp edge to Tobirama’s tone, clear dichotomy to his brother’s careful maneuvering, to the way Hashirama’s head settles in his lap. To the fingers that come to his head once more, working in small circles. “At least in the compound. The mokuton can compensate for a lot, but it can’t help you read.”

They’ve had this conversation a thousand times. He’ll learn, eventually. He’ll try to, at least.

“You could always read the reports to me,” he murmurs. The throbbing ache rattles his skull. His jaw is still locked up, mouth hardly moving. His tongue sticks in his mouth, dry as it is. He can’t remember where his tea went. He knows there was tea—the taste has withered on his tongue but he can still catch a trace of it when he swallows, pain pulsing in time with the contraction. “You’re concise. Know what’s important and what isn’t.” 

Tobirama’s hands drift downwards, pulling him up a fraction before taking the base of his skull into steady hands, pressing pads of fingers into the nape of his neck. 

“I have my own work to do.” It’s not an outright refusal. “I don’t enjoy wearing them either, but I make the concession regardless to minimize situations like these, anija.”

They don’t go away entirely, though. The brain is too complex, chakra pathways too delicate to risk the potential damage that could arise from trying to alleviate the pain. They must live with the days that must be spent in the dark, where his brother can hardly rise on hands and knees before retching, where food and water are a poison to Hashirama’s stomach. It’s hardly behavior fitting of a clan head and clan heir, but things progressed beneath his father’s leadership. The work still got done. Their people were still kept safe.

Hashirama opens his eyes for a brief moment, wincing at the dull, stabbing pain that infects his eyes and spreads out to the sockets. His brother’s face is blurry even from the short distance spanning between them, tattoos standing sharp against pale skin. Closes them just as quick.

The clench of his jaw lessens a fraction, stiff muscles uncoiling. He sighs heavily when Tobirama’s thumbs push firmly against the base of his skull. His breathing deepens. Time slips past him, mind drifting into a twilight zone. He can feel his brother’s hands still rubbing circles into his head, throbbing roots slowly being pulled from his skull. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” he slurs sleepily, tongue grown heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t move, though. He’s resting fully against Tobirama now, into the embrace that holds his head so slightly aloft. “I would have gone to the healers if it got any worse.” 

His brother huffs, chakra taking on an indignant tone. A smile finds his lips. He’s never been able to lie to his brother. Not successfully, at least. 

“If only such a thing were true,” Tobirama says. “Someone has to make sure you don’t end up bedridden. I should leave you to the mercy of Izumi the next time this happens.” 

He won’t, they both know. Such an admission will never slip past his brother’s tongue. Such truths are laid bare between them regardless. 

Perhaps once he would have felt guilty for demanding so much of his brother’s time. The mokuton is enough on the battlefield. It’s enough for traversing the pathways of the compound, it’s enough for the floor of their home. The earth is forgiving. Papers are not. 

Something still sticks in his throat when Tobirama pulls free entirely, dragging him from his reverie. He listens to Tobirama pull the shutters closed. To the soft footsteps that bring him close once more, fabric rustling as he sinks to his knees.

“You should rest, anija.” Tobirama’s voice is soft. The ache has lessened to a dull throb. Exhaustion clings to him, even though there are several hours still standing between them and sunset. 

Knuckles brush his cheek before he feels Tobirama’s hand settle against his forehead. His hand has chilled further, free hand stroking his cheek as Hashirama sighs. 

He grabs Tobirama’s hand as it parts from his skin, thumb tracing the raised flesh on the knuckle of his index finger. A particularly bad scrape during a spar had split the skin. They were children at the time but the scar has remained strong on his skin. 

“Stay until I fall asleep?” 

There is no childish tilt to his tone but he feels the trepidation regardless. Feels the memories of a ten year old boy sink into his skin. Of smaller hands rubbing relief into his skull, soothing cyclical pain. It had become clockwork at a point, he remembers. Before he had gained better control of the mokuton. Before he was able to lessen the burden on failing eyes. He feels them well up in his throat, already beginning to fester on his tongue as he waits for an answer beyond the stiffening of Tobirama’s body behind his head. 

He smiles at the huff that answers him—a small thing. Little more than the lifting of the corners of his lips.

“Where else would I go?”

[bread-cat-luna]

"I always thought of you as made of moonlight. Because of that first night." i'm going insane. oh my god.

they're making me cry over llamas again guys. i'm in tears because of llamas.