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Daggers and Deception - Part I
Being shot is a real pain in the ass, especially if you're coming down with a cold. And that's exactly what's happening to this perpetually surly mercenary who has been forced into seclusion while he recovers.
But he's not the only one stuck in the middle of What Kind of Fresh Country Fuck Hell Nowhere. Someone is in the apartment next to his. Someone who knows something he shouldn't . . . and is obviously allergic to air.
Neither man is what they seem to be.
____________________________________________
The driveway is as long as a damn subdivision block, but the house at the end of it sure as hell isn't like his place. Tall and shaded by trees, the rambling, archaic property sits by itself with no neighbors, no sidewalks. No nothing.
When the boss said "the middle of nowhere," he wasn't even kidding.
Goddamn it.
"Let me carry that."
Max's gruff voice at his side. Not an offer, really. More like he was going to do it and there wasn't room for discussion. Typical.
Grimm grunts. "Yeah. Whatever."
Not like he can't manage with his good arm. But Max isn't having any of his shit today, or any other day, for that matter.
"You're upstairs on the right," Max says as he falls into step beside Grimm, bag in hand. "I tried to get you space on the first floor, but they're remodeling the--"
"It's fine," Grimm interrupts. "It ain't my leg that's broken."
Max hefts the bag over his shoulder and fishes through his pocket for a key. "You're still going to take it easy. Behave yourself or I'll see to it that we extend your stay." He flicks icy blue eyes to Grimm. "I mean it, Amadis."
Oooo, resorting to surnames. So fucking terrifying.
"Yeah, yeah." Grimm waves his good hand in a dismissive gesture.
Not like he has a choice. Couldn't be out in the field with a busted shoulder, much less with his arm in a sling. The wound had been clean enough not to fuck up anything permanently. He hopes. At least, that was the line the doctors had fed him. But damn, there had been a lot of blood. Lucky as hell that the bullet hadn't ripped through both sides of his body.
If one could call that a silver fucking lining.
He follows Max up the questionable facade of a staircase, the wooden slats complaining beneath his footfalls with every step.
Definitely a death trap in the making.
"How old is this place?"
Max glances over his shoulder. "Old."
Grimm rolls his eyes.
By the time they reach the third story, sweat has begun a steady trickle down the back of Grimm's neck, the small amount of physical exertion taking an unpleasant toll. Which is stupid. And annoying. Fuck, the stab wound across his chest hadn't hurt as badly as this.
Max sets the bag down in front of a door that looks like it might cave in if Grimm breathes wrong and holds up a set of keys.
"The black one is the front door. Silver is your room. You've got a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, all of it. We'll have groceries delivered to you once a week, but if you need anything, call Rex. He'll make sure you get it."
"And if I wanna leave?"
Max levels his stare at him. "You won't."
Hmn. Grimm hooks a loose strand of his dark hair behind one ear as Max finagles the keyhole and convinces the door to open, carting his bag inside and dropping it in the middle of the living room area.
"Fridge and cabinets are stocked. Clean sheets on the bed. Towels in the bathroom. There's a curator on the property who takes care of all that, so she'll be by to check on you now and then. She's also a nurse and she'll help you with dressing that wound and repacking it. Be nice to her."
Grimm rakes a hand through his hair with sniffle. "I'm nice, dammit."
"Uh huh."
Max reaches into his pocket and produces a bottle with a white label. "Take these."
Grimm eyes the label with a look of marked disdain. Opioids. Not a fucking chance. "You know I'm not taking that shit."
Max shoves the bottle at him. "Take it anyway."
He sets the bottle on the nearest piece of furniture and folds his good arm across his chest. Too bad the damn sling ruins the effect.
"I'll be in touch," Max says. "Rest, Grimm."
Like he has a choice.
"I can't believe you're making me do this country isolation bullshit."
Max's expression doesn't waver. "Believe it." He pats Grimm's shoulder with one hand. "And change your shirt. You're about to drip sweat all over this ugly-as-hell rug."
Mother. Fucker.
"Smartass," Grimm says.
Max cracks a hint of smile. "Take care of that cold, too."
Grimm narrows his eyes. "What cold?"
Max doesn't respond, but takes off instead, leaving Grimm standing in the middle of his new quarters with a whole lot of silence and weird-ass furniture. Floral couch with a high back and wooden feet. A carved, pockmarked end table with wooden feet. Mismatched coffee table with some kind of folded flaps on the side. With wooden feet.
"Somebody got a damn foot fetish around here or what?" Grimm mutters to no one in particular.
Max is wrong about the "cold," but is right about his shirt. A combination of a bumpy ride and a short stair climb has him sweating bullets. He hefts the bag onto the couch and paws through it until he finds a black tank top. A hell of a lot easier to manage than a T-shirt. At least his target had the decency to shoot him on his non-dominant side.
He slips the sling over his head and pulls his arm out of the thing, grabs the back of his T-shirt with his good hand . . . and hisses with a wince.
Fuck, fuck, fucking FUCK.
A deep breath. A struggle. The material peels its way from his damp skin with far too much effort, leaving him sweating and panting as if he's run a good ten miles without a break. A shock of cold travels down his spine and he fights against a sudden wave of nausea that forces him to take a seat on the floral fuckery of a couch.
The bottle sits on the coffee table. Beckoning. Mocking. He flips it the middle finger and tosses the tank top back into the bag. Fuck this whole shirt-wearing shit.
After securing his arm in the sling once more, he meanders into the kitchen, takes a quick inventory of the food.
Chicken, veggies, some ground beef . . .and an entire shelf of instant ramen. The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. Max knows him too well.
Not to mention, it's easy as hell to make with one arm. A few minutes of boiling water, some frozen stir fry veg, and a little soak later, dinner is served. Grimm sits at the table, palms a pair of chopsticks, and settles in.
From the stairwell comes the sound of footsteps, a jingle of keys, and the protesting creak of a door. A rustle of bags. Footfalls on aging hardwood.
Grimm tilts his head. Max had mentioned the house was sectioned into apartments, but he hadn't mentioned other visitors. Who else even knew about this place, anyway? It's not like it was on the map.
And man, are the walls thin as hell.
Pretty much every move his neighbor makes is audible from dropping the keys on the table to moving into the kitchen to put away whatever it is that they're carrying. Or maybe Grimm's hearing is just too finely tuned for his own damn good. Not like it didn't come with the job.
It is not until his neighbor retires to the back of the apartment that Grimm stops being able to hear him walking and moving around. The soft tinkle of piano keys wafts from the other side of the wall in place of movement, a wistful and almost sad melody. Was it being played or just listened to? Not like Grimm knows enough about music to tell. Still, whatever it might be is oddly soothing and he finishes his "dinner" and drags himself to the bedroom for a rest. Or maybe just some tossing around and growling.
At least the bed is enormous and inviting enough, all carved with huge spiraling posts and some kind of bars connecting them. Maybe for a canopy or something at one time. But whatever, all he cares about is if the mattress is comfortable. He eases himself onto the duvet and sprawls out as much as his damn shoulder will allow. The sling isn't exactly comfortable, but he makes do with it via a few propped up pillows and little bit of shifting around.
His eyes drift shut, the whir of the fan a comfortable, lulling nuance that nearly drags him into sleep immediately. Or at least until the abrupt sound of a sneeze from the other side of the wall snaps him out of it. A bitingly sharp “EKSSCH!” And another. And another.
“EKSSCH! EKCHISSH!”
Well, damn.
A fourth follows less than a minute later and Grimm tilts his head back, eying the wall with a raise of one eyebrow.
He raps his knuckles on the aging sheetrock.
“Hey,” he says. “You dying or what?”
Silence. Guess the guy didn't realize he had a neighbor, either.
“Yes,” comes the curt response after some time.
Grimm chuckles. Obviously male. Deep voice, but not as deep as his rumbling bass. Some kind of posh-ass accent, too.
“-iihEKSSH-uuuh!”
An irritated frustration of a sound that is clearly a “stop this shit right the fuck now!” level of annoyance.
“Bless you,” Grimm says, more out of amusement than anything else.
A pause he can almost feel follows before a quiet "thank you" is issued from the other side of the wall.
His neighbor opens and closes a drawer or two and wanders back to the other side of the house, accompanied by a few more sneezes and what sounds like a well-placed curse at one point.
That gets another round of chuckling.
Somewhere from inside the apartment, the piano music resumes and Grimm is now certain it is, in fact, not a recording. The man is definitely playing whatever it is himself. With a sigh, Grimm closes his eyes again. Maybe the guy will keep playing long enough for him to ignore his throbbing shoulder and pass the fuck out.
The fan whirs, the plaintive strands of whatever the guy is playing a nice counterpoint to the white noise. Grimm takes a deep breath. Exhales. Repeats. Sweat beads his brow, threatening to trickle into his ear and the ramen feels like a ball of lead in the pit of his stomach. A hint of a groan escapes him. The first few days are always the worst with a wound like this. It'll pass. Eventually.
(TBC . . .maybe)
#EFF writes#I'm going to enjoy this#And I hope you will as well#I'll post more if the interest is there#And YES#I happen to love this fucking trope of grouchy asshole and sophisticated asshole#JUST LET ME LIVE lol
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nooo don’t kill me your so sexy aha
#fanart#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#I have seen and therefore have rights to join#and post stupid meme sht#I'll draw something more interesting when my eyes heal??
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something something giant isopod sharing is caring pass the detritus
inprnt
#giant isopod#marine biology#artists on tumblr#inprnt#I tried coming up with a pun but nothing popped up#cackLES#there's also another print up on inprnt that I'm waiting to post when I have other stuff settled 👀#technically inprnt is getting to see stuff a little earlier haha#also been noticing how my process has changed haha it's interesting#like I'll spend waaaaaay more time now nitpicking/adjusting colors which is fine#but like before when I was still in old process mindset I'd get frustrated and think the colors weren't coming out right#when what I needed was to spend more time figuring it out
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Day 1 and Day 2 of RadioStatic Week
First Meeting and Sharing a meal! I like the idea that Alastor is the one who approached Vox first because of how unique he looks eheh
#hazbin hotel#radiostatic#hazbin vox#hazbin alastor#radiostatic week#radiostaticweek#radiostatic week 2024#my art#clip studio paint#csp#digital art#hazbin hotel fanart#mostly using this challenge to test out workflows and tools on csp#I tried a different style with more textures! csp has so many more interesting brushes than autodesk sketchbook#I just had to have a little fun with it#that one post that said Vox was probably the first TV that Alastor ever saw was what inspired the first drawing#all the drawings of radiostatic week will be linked together you'll see with how the colors and shape evolve over time!#I'm really proud of this series of drawing I really tried to put some emotional intentions in the color and shape choices#tho I'll be exausted by the end of the week lolol
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mspaint commissions !!!! all 16 of 'em!!
#my art#mspaint#commissions#comm#dog#cow#dragon#maid#raptor#pooltoy#furry#anthro#oc#fursona#cute#idunno wat to tag i am so happy to see all of them together#i am taking a break immedietly after posting these but im really proud of myself for getting so many out so fast#and ty to everyone who commed me so far <3333 i was able to like. ACTUALLY shop for myself for the first time in a hot minute yesterday#and its really nice to. eat and feel a lil more financially stable lol#i'll probably take a ffeewww more of these#if anyones interested!#FINFIN#oh my god i cant believe i almost forgot to tag finfin...............#alligator#bear#monkey#cat#woo#wooowowowowooowowow#< imagine a dog making that noise
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etho said actually you _don't_ understand the intricacies of how tango is my boyfriend and bdubs is my ex
(and how tango and bdubs kiss too)
Scar: We went on that little adventure, you know! Etho: Yeah, yeah, we had our adventure, that's true, that's true. Scar: You disparaged your teammates. That's it, all right, no more spoilers. Etho: (laughs) Our team has -- our team has some weird dynamics this -- this season. Cleo: (overlapping) Really, Etho? Is there trouble in paradise? (pause) Who's third-wheeling with you, again? I can't remember. Etho: (laughs) Uhh. The -- Cleo: Genuinely can't remember. I know it's you and Bdubs. And...Tango? Tango. Tango. Etho: (loudly) Why -- Why is Tango the third wheel? Why -- why isn't Bdubs the third wheel? Cleo: Because it's you and Bdubs. I'm sorry. I understand how that relationship goes. Etho: (dissatisfied) Hmm.
#why is this what makes me post again#tangtho#etho#ethoslab#tango#tangotek#tango tek#bdubs#bdoubleo100#bangtho#< saw that in etho's comments. and. yeah#also consider that tango and bdubs were together first this series and etho is the third wheel#to the fucked up love hate thing they have going on#there's never been something more appreciating and adoring BUT biting each other as tangdubs#goodtimeswithscar#hermitcraft s10#wild life smp#wild life smp spoilers#(Sorry but some people have ethubs blinders on but that's so much less interesting to me than the whole.#Yes bdubs is pathetic and will always be at etho's feet. and Yes etho will pity bdubs and want him protected.#but tangtho (!!!) has SO much more to play with...to Me.)#and Why is etho being a tango girl so under-noticed??? lmao. it's there to be noticed All the time#hot mic! hot mic!#but also lowkey dreading ep2 lmao#anyway I'll regret posting this lol#(also I see you asks in my inbox. sorry I haven't replied yet <3 re: s7 oh do I have thoughts! it's where it truly kinda began... I started#forming a reply to you back in May I think but I've been kinda averse to posting/participating in the fandom side for a while. sorry I#stopped being a good place for your tangtho snippets </3 I've still been watching and enjoying the streams and the tango etho joy continues#just haven't really felt like posting)
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💖 EVEN MORE DAY 4 SNEAK PEEKS! 💖
#>:3 /hehe /nefarious#+ One extra screenshot to make it look neater ghsjgds#14 Days With You#14DWY#yandere#yandere visual novel#yandere vn#yandere OC#💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — spoilers.#🖤 — updates.#🖤 — shut up sai.#ETA: 14DWY Discord I have not forgotten about you <3 Y'all will get a unique update 🔜 + access to Day 4 before the public (as always)#I appreciate everyone's patience though!! Once my Uni break rolls around I'll be sure to post more consistently and be more active online!#Because right now it's been kinda hard to find the time to go through all my socials AND indulge in my own personal interests/hobbies T_T#Sometimes I wanna Dawn some Trails...... But Ren yearns to be acknowledged...... /silly#Anyways!! I'll stop yappin and complaining now lmao ^^; I hope y'all enjoy these lil updates!!#14DWY Discord... I sill see you all soon....... >:3c /j threat
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She is Looking at you 👁👁
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#tav#oc.nawen#sleepyscribble#little portrait I never posted skldhskdhs#I wanted to make like a couple more portraits I had some ideas for to post together w this#but then my interests shifted and I sort of abandoned them dlfhdflhd#so I'm just posting it as is#I have another one in my folders that's nearly finished so if I can bring myself to finish it I'll post it too
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Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition
[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]
#boothill#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr incorrect quotes#hsr memes#honkai star rail memes#hsr meme#honkai star rail meme#hsr textpost#hsr boothill#boothill hsr#hsr spoilers#hsr 2.2 spoilers#hmmm... don't think it's worth tagging the others in the 9th image. this ain't about them#still unsure abt how to do the alt text for these kinda posts properly but hopefully i'm improving#anyways. don't think i've ever seen heard and typed "cowboy' so many times in one day as i have while making this good lord#i did a bit of digging around and haven't Seen any of these done yet so. here's hoping that's the case!#i'm only ~3/4 of the way through the 2.2 main quest but the need to make these compelled me to put these out Now#i can already tell u that there Will be more of these for Boothill tho bc i'm crazy abt him. probably enough to make another dedicated post#but i'm gonna wait until i'm fully caught up on the plot (and will probably spoil myself for more of his character lore after that as well)#speaking of. i'm gonna go eat mac n' cheese and stay up too late playing through the rest of the main quest#i'm loving it so far. many thoughts head full abt it all but in a good way. hoping for more Boothill moments as we approach the end#he's def not the main character here but he is to Me okay. he is to me. i'm scarfing down every crumb he drops#i'm also suffering from Aventurine withdrawals out here. Argenti mentioning him was Interesting but i need More. Where Is He.#also. was Argenti intentionally not voiced or was it a game issue?? the hell was that. threw me off so hard when i couldn't hear him speak#anyways i'm getting off topic and wasting precious gaming time so i'll be takin' my leave now
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c. 1540 CE: a young man from Chalco, and his dragon.
#em draws stuff#em is posting about temeraire#temeraire#temeraire worldbuilding collection#⚬⚬⚬⚬⚬𐂂#<- tag for organizing when I'm drawing stuff that is temeraireVerse but not in the line of the plot of the books themselves#for school reasons I have been reading a lot about 14th-17th century mesoamerica#and thus am Interested in how that would have potentially played out in temeraireverse...#anyway! not sure if I'll draw these two again but I Have given the lad a day sign name (five deer) so I could Potentially. who can say.#haven't come up with a name for the dragon yet... maybe cipachcoatzin would work if can't think of anything else#<- Please Forgive My Dubious Command of Classical Nahuatl Grammar I Am But A Student#on that note zoomorphic interlace is not very much a style from this period/region but it helps me with composition things#five deer himself is mostly based on the illustration of the tlacuilo's son in the codex mendoza#the dragon is drawn more from a fusion of older scribal styles (ie. the codex borgia) and my own shorthands for dragon anatomy
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The De Nile sisters!
#monster high#monster high fanart#cleo de nile#nefera de nile#monster high gen 1#monster high redesign#artist on tumblr#character design#been working on this for days i needed to hurry up and post it before i started to hate it#this isnt meant to be a redesign of the two pack btw it just made me want to draw them together so i could figure out their styles#it is interesting tho cuz i gave cleo triangle theming and nefera diamond theming#but the two pack does the opposite which made me feel weird#but now i think im right since nefera's cheek gem is literally a diamond#anyway i wanted cleo to have a more casual style where nefera's is always elegant 100% of the time#i know all the mh ghouls are always overdressed but with nefera its on a different level#i might reblog with some more info on how i reimagined them story wise#but for now i'll just say that cleo is in her final year of high school (basically she's 17/18) and nefera is the equivalent of 21/22#my art#sabz art#EDIT: you can tell i haven't posted in a while cuz i completely forgot to add an ID!!#i was wondering why posting this was so quick#its because i was being a forgetful asshole!!! so#id in alt
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Richarlyson: You're skinny sir, are you eating well these days?
Pac: Not really. To tell you the truth, I've been eating... I stole, together with my son, we stole some cupcakes from the Federation. I ate some, but I know chocolate isn't the best thing to eat, right?
Richarlyson: 12 kilos D:
Pac: 12 kilos?!? No– what? My god. My god... Am I malnourished, Doctovo? Am I- Am I malnourished?
Richarlyson: You weigh less than a pitbull, sir.
Pac: Less than the singer? Damn... [Laughs]
Richarlyson: [Hits Pac]
#Pactw#Richarlyson#Pac#QSMP#November 29 2023#Thanks again to sebbs for checking my translation!#Been meaning to post this clip for months#I think about it a LOT#Pac's got a very interesting relationship with food I'll say that much#The fact that Fit's gift to him – out of everything he could've given him – wound up being an infinite chocolate bar speaks volumes too#especially when you take this (and other moments) into consideration#The nature of hunger and food in q!Pac's story is very interesting#anyways if you've read this far in the tags#There is a fic on Ao3 that talks about this very premise :)#Doctovo#BTW 12 kilos is a little over 26 lbs#I like to interpret this as Pac being 26 lbs underweight rather than him literally being 26 lbs#both aren't super realistic but that's more realistic than weighing 26 lbs lol#Anyways please let me know if this needs any TWs
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“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.)
#ginger writes#“Oh I'll post more about Apollo and Zeus!” posts about Ares and Apollo posts about Ares and Apollo posts about Ares--#Admittedly the triad of Zeus Ares Apollo is very interesting to me and it has a very fun place in my work so like#woe Ares/Apollo sibling relations be upon ye#I think Ares and Apollo are such fascinating foil cases btw - both for exploring masculinity and the complexes of the son#Strong masculine Ares with his dread and bloody war-work vs calm effeminate Apollo with his dread but distant archery#Apollo himself is not effeminate by the by but some of the things he's associated with tend to give that impression#I'm thinking specifically of an Achilles/Paris dichotomy between the two almost tbh#Where Achilles lives gloriously and fights gloriously but is ultimately destined for shame and an inglorious end#while Paris lives according to his feelings and desires yet prevails over both the pious and the powerful#That's the kind of relationship they have at this point#It's also very interesting looking at cases where parents (in this case Zeus) don't necessarily deride or shame a child#but certainly don't uplift them either#The distance between Zeus and Ares will never not be a favoured topic of mine#I love that shit so much actually#zeus#ares#apollo#writing#greek mythology#pursuing daybreak posting
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Talia al Ghul feat two of my fav artstyles (I REALLY need to draw her more)
#lately ive been losing interest in tumblr#(happens with all socials i post on sadly)#so maybe ill be more inactive but MAYBE#I'll become super active during summer but I'll see#talia al ghul#my post#my art#dc comics#dc fanart#batman fanart#batfam#(?) i guess that counts maybe#al ghul family#al ghuls#artists on tumblr#dc#dc fandom#digital art
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you’re so dark, collumbiahalle 02/05/18 💙
#this look is just EVERYTHING#god#early tbhc era alex still has so much eycte era alex in him#only with a moodier and more sardonic twist#and i am absolutely in love with everything about him 💘#and this performance specifically#oh my GOD 🫠🫠#you're so dark has such a soft spot in my heart#also can we talk about the way that (to my knowledge) alex never says 'i want you down on all fours' live?#he just switches it to 'down on all fours'#which is...#idk#very interesting to me#anyway#i'll see myself out now 😅#alex turner#arctic monkeys#tbhc era#alex gifs#my gifs#lulu posts
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the thing about bruce trying to kill the joker is that people always leave it at 'superman stopped him', which is only partially true. superman does stop him but only during the assembly itself. as soon as he's inhaled all the joker gas, he says, "Batman, he's all yours."
he lets bruce have him, and he doesn't step back in until it's time to pull bruce from the water. maybe this is just because it took him a while to dispose of the gas, but i've always seen it as superman essentially giving batman permission of a sort to do what he needed to do.
maybe clark didn't know what bruce would choose - whether he would lock the joker up or put him six feet under - but he trusted bruce's judgement. maybe clark was sure of bruce's intentions, that he truly believed that bruce would do the 'right' thing. or maybe clark knew that bruce was going to kill him, and he took a step back. i don't know if we're ever told, and i don't think i want to know. i just think it's very interesting.
but bruce did fully try to kill the joker. nobody could stop him, and in the end superman didn't try to. the joker had literally been shot and the helicopter was about to explode and bruce left him there to die. the comic ends with bruce yelling to find his body, but thinking, "But I know they won't. That's how things always end with the Joker and me. Unresolved."
#this is more word vomit than anything#i just think it's so much more interesting with the context that bruce was not stopped. he was momentarily paused but he was not stopped#i just see posts all the time like 'imagine jason finds out that it's because of clark that the joker's still alive'#and it's just. that's not really what happened. you know?? like it's definitely fun to play with#and you should stick with that if that's what you like i just prefer this version of events#i do think it was clark letting bruce make his own choice though. like supes leaving and then coming back at the end to grab bruce's hand#to me says 'i know you need to do this alone but i am here with you. whatever you choose i will hold your hand regardless.' you know??#i'll make a real post about this at some point i'm just rambling right now#bruce wayne#batman#jason todd#red hood#<- tagging him because it's about his death#batfamily
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