#because all the power in the world cannot save you from death

[neverenoughmarauders]

Lily's meaningless sacrifice

One thing that irks me is when people suggest that in canon, Lily had any idea that Harry would survive (this is merely a canon post, nothing to do with fanfiction). It irks me, partly because it's just incorrect and that's the sort of person I am. More importantly, however, it irks me because Lily not stepping aside when she had nothing to gain from dying is fundamental to the story.

Let's start with JKR own words from an interview in 2005:

MA: Did she know anything about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry? JKR: No - because as I've tried to make clear in the series, it never happened before. No one ever survived before. And no one, therefore, knew that could happen.

Lily knew nothing about the possible effect of standing in front of Harry. Lily was faced with this choice:

Scenario 1: Steps aside, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 2: Be killed, and Harry is killed.

Scenario 1 is (on the surface) objectively better (unless you're a DE and thus want less muggle-borns around). To Voldemort, it's a simple choice: In both scenarios Harry will die, in one, Lily will survive. In fact, this is what makes a lot of people defend Severus' choice to only ask Voldemort to spare Lily. Severus could not save Harry (and apparently it's totally cool not trying to save others if they bullied you).

Lily could not save Harry.

Lily's choice, as far as she is aware, is not whether to save Harry or not, but whether to save herself. And yet, Lily cannot stand aside. As JKR points out earlier in the interview, what Lily did is not that surprising to us readers ("I don't think any mother would stand aside from their child"). Why? Love. Because, as Dumbledore reminds us on multiple occasions: there are worse things than death - most notably in DH:

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love."

Love, and life with and without love is an undercurrent in the story. Lily's sacrifice is meaningless when made, and yet it's the biggest and most understandable expression of love anyone can show someone else. Lily cannot, and does not want to, live in a world where she has witnessed her son being murdered - especially when her husband has been murdered too. A world without Harry and James is no world for Lily Potter.

It is also - bear with me - not that different from what it was like to be in the Order at that time:

[Y]ou weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...

“He — he was taking over everywhere!” gasped Pettigrew. “Wh — what was there to be gained by refusing him?”

The Order operated against the odds and were being picked off one by one. As Peter asks - what was there to be gained by refusing him? What was there to be gained from standing (metaphorically or not) in front of Voldemort's victims? I've said this before and I'll say it again, Sirius' answer is powerful:

“What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?” said Black, with a terribly fury in his face. “Only innocent lives, Peter!” “You don’t understand!” whined Pettigrew. “He would have killed me, Sirius!” “THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Black.

Only innocent lives. They weren't fighting this war because they were winning. In fact they were very much losing. But they were fighting because it was right thing to do. Many Order members chose to die, rather than to step aside and let Voldemort take over. Only in their case it didn't make a difference - or at least, it didn't feel like it at the time. Members were murdered, and Voldemort was just getting stronger and stronger.

What was there to be gained by refusing Voldemort?

I firmly believe this is a theme that is repeated throughout the book: not just love and choice, but the obligation to choose what is right, no matter the odds (the irony that this was written by JKR will never be lost on me), and how love is a powerful motivator to do just that. Doing the right thing might seem hopeless in the moment - wasteful even - but that doesn't mean it's not worth doing, or that in the end, it won't add up.

Imagine what Harry felt like at the end of PS/SS when he risked his life to stop Voldemort, only to realise that Voldemort would keep trying to come back:

“Well, Voldemort’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I mean, he hasn’t gone, has he?” “No, Harry, he has not. (...) Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power.”

Harry Potter isn't about doing the right thing because it will bring you rewards, but because it is the right thing.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

This speech doesn't sit well with a few people because it sounds like you're asked to remember what happened to someone who did do the right thing (spoiler: he died). But that's not the point, of course. Cedric wasn't killed for doing the right thing or making a hard choice - Dumbledore asks the students to remember Cedric because the enemy is willing to kill innocent people indiscriminately. Standing aside will not be good enough against people like Voldemort. There is, as Dumbledore put it, a need to keep fighting what seems a losing battle. Why? Only innocent lives.

Both James and Lily die that evening because they are unwilling to let Voldemort near their innocent son as long as there is breath in their bodies. James had no choice (this irks me because he did, he could have run away - he could have not fought Voldemort in the Order to being with. They all had a choice, but not the point). Lily had a choice. And she chose, like many had before her, to fight what seemed like a losing battle. She died, not knowing that she had saved her son. Her sacrifice was meaningless - like so many before her - and yet her sacrifice changed the world.

In the end, by choosing to do what was right, she was granted the wish she most desired: Her son lived.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fluff for Feyd, reader tells him that she’s proud of him and it’s the first time someone’s said that to him genuinely 🩵

Feyd-Rautha x reader

All He Knew

Summary: Feyd deals with the emotional aftermath of protecting you from his uncle.

Notes/Warnings: mention of past abuse, mention of death, and vulnerability. It's fluffy-ish and angsty-ish, and slightly different, but I still kept in the main idea. Hopefully you still like it :)

Words: 1150

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

You knew the second your husband’s blade went through the Baron’s neck that his whole world would change. Everything inside of him would disconnect. The pieces of his inner self would scatter chaotically, and he would no longer know who to be. You knew because of the power his uncle held over him for the majority of his life. 

After Feyd killed his mother, the Baron was all he had. And how do you go from having the fullness of an overbearing presence on your shoulders—miserable as it was—to nothing? By killing the Baron, Feyd excised a part of himself, as if some creature had sauntered up to his side and taken a big bite out of his body. And now there’s a chunk missing that you fear cannot be filled, even by you. 

He cries when he thinks you’re asleep. And though you continue to feign unconsciousness as you roll over and drape your arm over his waist, it’s not always enough to stop the tears. Part of you knew it wouldn’t be, but you still hoped. You hoped that having you beside him would remind him why he did what he did. 

The Baron had ordered your execution because you were taking too long to provide an heir, and as you were dragged in front of the old man to answer for your ‘crime’, Feyd was nowhere near to protect you. The Baron was smart—he took you from the comfort of your bed in the early morning as your husband was training for another fight in the arena. The plan was simple, and Feyd wouldn’t know about your fate until it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to save you. 

But he did, somehow. Your best guess is that Feyd has a mole, or many, throughout the Harkonnen fortress to relay everyone’s movements, because Feyd was rushing into the room and thrusting his blade into squishy flesh just as the order to end your life was leaving the Baron’s lips. And in those quick seconds, your husband was changed. 

You don’t know how to bring him back to you. At least, you didn’t. You wrestled with it for days until it dawned on you that what he might need is not necessarily your touch or the reminder that he still has a wife, but instead, the words he deserves to hear. 

—

“Feyd, I’m proud of you.”

You’ve been watching him all morning, standing aside, not wanting to interrupt his process of slowly nipping away at a training dummy with his knife. There are holes of all sorts in the torso, both deep and shallow, and slashes across the inanimate face. It has lost both its legs. One arm hangs on by what would be a thin cord of skin were it human. When your words reach him from the other side of the room, he pauses mid-swing. 

“You did a hard thing,” you continue as his arm drops to his side and he straightens his stance from a fighters position. “You did a painful thing.”

His adam’s apple bobs. He sighs and stares down at the blade, the sharp point digging into his index finger as he twirls it. He has yet to look at you in the hour you’ve been here, and with the unpredictability of your husband, you don’t know what he’s going to do next. But you wait, patiently, because that is what you can do for him. 

“I wouldn’t let him take you from me,” he finally says. The blade stabs into the gut of the dummy. “He’s damaged me enough.”

That’s all he gives you. Your heart shatters for him and for the walls he’s been building between you since he killed his uncle; walls that took you ages to tear down after you married him. You’d done so well at getting him to trust and love you, and you hate to watch the bricks stacking as the minutes pass. 

“Since when are you proud when I kill?” he asks. 

And it’s a fair question. You’ve never been a fan of the death that wreaks through the halls of the Harkonnen fortress. You’ve never enjoyed his triumphs in the arena. But this is different, and so you must handle it differently, with a gentle hand and well-chosen words, despite what those words may bring.

He hasn’t often handled well certain topics that you’ve tried to bring up in the past. Risky topics, you learned. Topics that have usually left him drawing away from you until the next morning comes and he can pretend as if you never brought them up.

When you’ve asked about his parents, he gets fidgety; can’t stand still, can’t stop messing with his hands, can’t look you in the eye for more than a quarter of a second. He’s unlike the husband you know. When you’ve asked about his uncle, he’s worse. He’s more than just unlike your husband, he detaches himself from the moment completely. He becomes stiff as a board; a statue with a faraway gaze in his eyes. He offers few words. But those reactions are enough for you to assume the truth of his past without him giving you more than the little he has.

“Feyd, he was abusive,” you say, closing the distance between you. “You ended someone who had power over you for years. Of course I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not as if I did it for me; I did it to save you.”

“You did it,” you tell him. “You did it when you needed to protect us most. You didn’t let him hurt me and force you to accept his justifications for doing so. That's what matters.”

Long beats pass that grow longer with each one. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears so violently that they feel stuffed with cotton. You fear his reaction; a further pulling away from you—something you’re not sure you’ll be able to take. But then he drops the knife to the floor, turns to you, and tucks his head into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. 

His arms slowly snake around your waist and squeeze you tight, and you’re struggling to breathe properly, but you don’t care because the half-built brick wall just tumbled down. He needs you. 

His exhales shakily graze over your collarbone. A droplet forges a path down your chest, disappearing into your cleavage and leaving a chilled trail in its wake. You raise your hand to the back of his head and hold him against you, letting more droplets trickle down your body, letting your skin muffle sobs.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you whisper.

He inhales, breathing you in, and then says, “There’s not a life where I wouldn’t have done it for you.”

“I know,” you tell him. 

“It shouldn’t hurt.”

“It’s allowed to hurt,” you say. “He’s all you knew.”

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | When You Call My Name

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Decades after the events of 1973, Logan finds himself drowning yet again at the bottom of the Potomac River. Luckily, you're there to help pull him out of his nightmare.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: depictions of drowning, mentions of death, discussion of nightmares, Logan's claws make an appearance, mentions of religious trauma and biblical imagery, mentions of abuse (it's on sight when I see you, William Stryker), mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, not really a warning but set after the events of Days of Future Past, loosely based on "Like a Prayer" by Madonna, Logan's POV, gender-neutral reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: So this one got away from me and my own religious trauma may have taken over a tad bit — sorry in advance (If you find comfort and solace in religion, more power to you. This is simply written from my own perspective and lived experience.) This came to me while listening to "Like a Prayer" by Madonna for the thousandth time since seeing Deadpool and Wolverine. Intended this to be shorter, but then I got possessed by some fanfic phantom and this was created. Super proud of the finished product though — hope you all enjoy.

As Logan’s eyes shoot open, he’s only got one thought running through his mind: his lungs are on fire. He attempts to move but is met with a sudden searing white pain shooting through his veins. His eyes, still adjusting to the eerie darkness surrounding him, search for the source of his injury. Panic rises in Logan’s chest as his gaze follows the metallic glint of rebar weaving through his body. He attempts to draw in a shaky breath, and his chest burns as water fills his lungs. 

No. 

It can’t be.

He’s drowning at the bottom of the Potomac River.

Logan wants to scream out of frustration, but it’s impossible. He has no more air left in his lungs, and he has no hope of reaching the surface to take a much-needed deep breath. Even if he could endure the agony caused by his body’s movements, the weight of the rebar Erik impaled him with is pinning him to the riverbed. He’s going to die here. 

Cold. Alone. Suffering.

And yet, a sudden tranquility washes over his body and mind as he realizes that maybe he can finally rest in peace. He knows he placed his trust in the right people — somehow, Charles and Hank will find a way to stop Erik, and finally, the world will see that not all mutants need to be feared. He did his part — he brought everyone back together against all odds.

Logan knew the risks before Kitty sent him back in time, but there was no other choice. Because he also knew what the future would hold if he did nothing — he’d watch the sentinels eviscerate the last of his friends until he was the only one left. And that’s not a future he can live with. But what he can live with is no one remembering his life before 1973 as long as they’re safe — as long as you’re safe.

His body relaxes at the thought. He may not have a future with you in this new timeline, but knowing you’ll have the life you’ve always dreamed of puts Logan’s mind at ease. You’ll finally be able to live a peaceful life teaching at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters instead of being forced to play the part of a loyal soldier. Although Logan is deeply saddened by the fact he won’t be a part of this new life, he has more than enough memories of you from his timeline to keep him content in the afterlife.

Logan’s eyes flutter closed as he begins to feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. His regenerative abilities may be able to keep the rebar from killing him, but it cannot save him from asphyxiation. But before he can completely drift off, something grabs his body, pulling him towards the surface. Once free from the river’s grasp, he begins coughing up water. His body desperately gasps for air, and it feels like his lungs cannot get enough oxygen. 

Logan finds the strength to open his eyes and takes in his surroundings. It’s bright — too bright. He blinks several times to adjust his vision to this sudden change. His attention gets drawn to the sound of several men talking in hushed voices. And as he looks up at his rescuers, the panic in his chest starts growing like a wildfire through his body. Logan might have let out a dry laugh at the sight if he wasn't in excruciating pain. Because instead of being met with any type of salvation, Logan seems to have been cursed with eternal damnation, no matter the timeline,  in the form of William Stryker. Some things never change.

He’s younger than when Logan met him in his timeline, but as Stryker smiles down at him, Logan knows this is the same man — the same sick, twisted man he knows all too well. Panic turns into terror as he realizes what he’s about to endure. Agonizing years of torture and torment that he’ll be burdened to forget. He can’t do this again. Not after knowing a life full of not only hardship and loss but also friendship, laughter, and love. He can’t let Stryker take that from him — all those years of happiness. He can’t let him take you.

Stryker opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his condescending tone, Logan hears your voice call his name. Logan’s brow furrows at the sound. Maybe his extended lack of oxygen caused some sort of brain damage. But then he hears it again — a voice he’d recognize in any timeline. Your voice.

And suddenly, it hits him. This isn’t happening. There’s no river, no pain, no Stryker. This is a memory — a nightmare. 

His eyes snap open, and his body jolts forward until he’s sitting up. He coughs hoarsely, as if his body is still trying to expel imaginary water, as he attempts to catch his breath. A layer of sweat has formed over his toned body, and his muscles flex as he rolls his shoulders back. He shakes his head roughly, trying to get a grip on reality.

And then you say his name again. 

His head snaps up, and he looks at you with wild eyes. You’re standing across the room — arms wrapped around yourself tightly as you watch him worriedly. You take a hesitant step toward him. Logan’s brow furrows at your unsureness, concerned about what he might have done in his sleep. But then he follows your gaze to his extended metal claws, and your hesitancy becomes understandable. This isn’t the first time Logan’s claws have come out in the middle of the night. His eyes nervously scan over your body for any injuries he may have inflicted as he retracts his claws. 

“Did I hurt you?”

You immediately cross the room as he speaks. Logan watches as you climb onto the bed and sit crisscross before him between his legs. You gently take both of his hands in yours and pull them onto your lap — the hesitancy long gone in your actions. 

“No, Logan. I’m okay.”

He lets out a relieved sigh as he leans forward until his forehead meets yours. He takes a moment to simply relish in the warmth of your touch. Logan relaxes his tense shoulders and melts further into you as you draw lazy circles into the palm of his hand. 

“Where’d you go?”

You pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and his breath hitches. Regardless of how many lifetimes he spends by your side, he’ll never get used to the fondness in your gaze as you look up at him. He remembers waking up in this timeline, thinking he actually did drown at the bottom of the Potomac River. Because this had to be heaven: having you tucked neatly into his chest, legs tangled up with his, steady breaths fanning across his neck. But as he felt you stir in your sleep, arms tightening slightly around his waist, he realized that this was real. He’d come to terms with his own death because at least his two hundred years spent suffering on this earth would mean something. But then he woke up from that nightmare, and he’s spent every day since then wondering when he’d inevitably be pulled out of this dream — waiting for history to repeat itself yet again. But he’s still here — and so are you.

“D.C., 1973.” 

You hum quietly before bringing his hand up to your mouth and placing a tender kiss to his palm. Logan waits for you to ask another question about his nightmare, but you silently return to tracing circles into the palm you just kissed. He shouldn’t be surprised; you know him better than anyone by now — better than he knows himself. You know not to push him. And he appreciates it more than you’ll ever know. After years of having his autonomy stripped away, you wait for him to come to you — allow him to open up at his own pace. Soothe him whenever he feels that he is sliding backward instead of moving forward. Healing isn’t linear. This has become your mantra for him on the nights when he’s sure that he’s slipping back into the past — when he longs for the familiarity of his vices and self-destructive tendencies. And you sit next to him with relentless patience through the highs and lows as he continues to navigate and grieve the fifty years he lost.

He’s come a long way since he first woke up. And he still has a ways to go before he can say that he’s processed everything he’s lost. Truth be told, he’s not sure he’ll ever truly heal entirely from his past. But you tell Logan that it doesn’t matter. Every time he begins to think that he’s too damaged — too broken — you reassure him that you love him as is. But he still tries to piece himself back together, for your sake. Tries to open up — to show you that he trusts you more than anyone he’s known during his two hundred years across two separate timelines. And so he continues, letting you into the depths of his tortured mind.

“I was drowning. Again. And it all felt so real. I couldn’t breathe, and I was sure I was slipping into the darkness, but then Stryker was there…”

As Logan trails off, he notices how your body tenses at the mention of Stryker’s name. Your hands tighten ever so slightly around his, and Logan lovingly sweeps his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that name holds as much weight to you as it does to him. He knows about the years of abuse you endured at the hands of William Stryker. He vividly remembers when you confided in him. After months of running into each other in the middle of the night, Logan found you silently crying with your back pressed against the railing of your favorite balcony in the mansion. Without a second thought, he slid down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He didn’t know you — not like he does now. You’d recounted how you first met on Three Mile Island when Scott and Jean brought him to the mansion. And he was thankful for the small piece of his past that you gave back to him. But under the dim light of the night sky, you revealed precisely what you endured during your years of captivity at Stryker’s facility. And that night, Logan made it his life’s mission to get revenge against the man. Not for his sake. No — for you. He would tear Stryker apart limb from limb for what he had done to you. 

“You aren’t there. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Although the words are directed towards him, he knows you’re equally trying to convince yourself of that fact. He knows that even though William Stryker is long dead — after Logan made good on his promise to you — he still haunts you. Unlike Logan, your trauma does manifest in the form of nightmares but insomnia. He thinks maybe this is why the two of you work. After years of feeling alone in this world, Logan finally found someone who understands him and what he’s been through. Although your torment isn’t identical, the similarity in your stories bonded the two of you together. You help him piece together the shared fragments of your past as you heal alongside him. 

“I know, you pulled me out.”

Your brow furrows at his confession. He lets go of your hands and gently holds your face. Your face flushes as he openly admires you. The faint light of the single side table lamp that Logan had left on softens your features, making you look damn near angelic. Logan isn’t a religious man, but his mother was. He was a sickly child before his mutation restored his body. His mother would often sit by his bedside with a bible in hand. And on the nights when he wasn’t delirious from his fever, he would listen to his mother read to him. One verse always stood out to him: “God is faithful, and He will not let you be tested beyond your strength but with your testing He will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” She meant for the words to comfort him, but the words only angered him. 

He remembers finding himself down on his knees multiple times during his years as Stryker’s mindless, faithful soldier. Praying to that same God that his mother once trusted to save her baby boy from the illness slowly degrading his frail body. He begged Him for salvation — to be given the way out that was promised in the bible verse his mother once recited. But instead of an answer, Logan was met with silence. So if the years of physical and psychological abuse he endured were nothing but a test from the Lord above to prove his faithfulness, then that’s no God worth following. 

“I heard you call my name, and it brought me back home.”

God never did anything for him. He didn’t bother protecting the innocence of a broken, misguided child. He refused to provide respite from the harshness of humanity. He never offered him any form of help or guidance during his times of greatest need — but you did. Without even knowing, you came into his life like an answered prayer.

Seemingly at a loss for words due to the intensity of his gaze, you grab onto the front of Logan’s t-shirt and pull him into a tight embrace. Your hands slide under the white fabric and slide across the contours of his back. He melts into your touch — finding relief in the direct contact of your skin on his. He’s never considered himself desirable, but you hold him like he’s something to be coveted. And then you murmur his name again. It’s barely a whisper, but the sound rings in his ears because your voice is heaven-sent.

“You’re a goddamn saint, you know that?”

A melodic laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head at his words. You pull away from him slightly and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. 

“I’m nothing special, Logan.”

You don’t mean it in a self-deprecating way. Logan knows that — knows that you simply see yourself as ordinary. But you couldn’t be more wrong. Because you might not actually be a saint or an angel, but you are the only person in two hundred years who’s managed to restore his faith in what this world has to offer. 

“Well. You’re special to me, sweetheart.”

[stealingpotatoes]

some ppl very kindly loredumped abt the organa-solo kids for me so gonna put that + responses below the cut!! ↓

@erkhyan asked:

Don’t mind me, just dropping some Organa Solo kids lore, hopefully summarized enough. Anakin: both motivated and intimidated by the fact that his name was supposed to redeem that of his grandpa. Had his grandpa’s qualities (excellent pilot, great warrior, very strong in the Force) but none of his negative trait. Traumatized by being unable to save Chewie. Died a hero at age 16 during a successful mission to destroy a Jedi-killing weapon. Jacen: a big, empathetic goof as a teen, but was traumatized by the war that killed Anakin. The war and the trauma of Anakin’s death turned him into an introspective monk who went to learn weird non-Jedi Force powers. Returned, fathered a secret daughter, fell to the Dark Side because the Force told him that every timeline in which he’s not a Sith ends badly for his daughter. Became a Sith Lord by killing mara jade Skywalker. Eventually died when he found himself having to choose between saving his daughter from an Imperial plot, and dodging his sister’s lightsaber. Jaina: best pilot, best lightsaber user, best warrior, earned the nickname of Sword of the Jedi. Unfortunately, people mostly remember the fact that she was stuck in the world’s most annoying love triangle for two decades in-universe. And that time she processed the trauma of Anakin’s death by trying to seduce her Jedi Master. And that time she was in a bug hivemind that tried to solve her love triangle with a sexy threesome. And that time she went to train under Boba Fett so that she could kill Jacen in Luke’s stead. And also because the Jedi Order finally recognizing that she should have been a made a Master years ago, was almost the LAST thing that happened in the Legends continuity. Heavily implied that her husband would have eventually become Emperor (but a good one) if the continuity had been allowed to go on.

CHEWIE DIED??????????? also christ thats a lot to put on poor lil anakin jr-- ALSO AGAIN. POOR LEIA. HASNT SHE BEEN THRU ENOUGH (poor han too but LEIA)

WHY ARE THERE MORE STAR WARSES!!! LEAVE THEM ALONE!! a secret daughter hi i love those but AGAIN. POOR LEIA. A SITH. FR HE KILLED MARA JADE WHAT???????????? oh my god.

i support jaina's turboslaggery she's been thru so much also WHAT potential emperor husband????????? wow ok legends gets wilder n wilder

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@novastargalaxydesigns asked:

I saw your Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin from Legends! And as someone who freaking adores that trio, I'd love to help point out a few things! In Legends of the Force, Jacen starts to affiliate himself with the Dark Side with his cousin, Ben, as his apprentice. Anakin was killed before the book, The Joiner King, and I didn't get the book that he was killed off in, but if I remember correctly, it was told in The Joiner King that he was killed during a mission as a fighter pilot. Jaina, in Legends of the Force I believe if I remember correctly, she gave up being a Jedi to be a pilot. I don't have all of the Legends of the Force books so I may be a bit spiffy on a few things. But we cannot forget Chewbacca's nephew, Lowbacca aka Lowie, and Jacen's childhood and teen hood crush, Tenel Ka whom is a princess and he accidentally cut her hand off with his new lightsaber during the book Young Jedi Knights Lightsabers. And Zekke who went to the dark side in the series Young Jedi Knights (I only got the first 3), but was redeemed. Anyone please correct my nerdiness if I'm wrong. But anygays, you has been educated by a fluffy bean. Had a lovely day!

JACEN CORRUPTS LUKE'S KID??????? HUH?????? CAN THE SKYWALKERS NOT CATCH LIKE. ONE SINGLE BREAK FROM THE DARKSIDE EVER???????? PLEASE

sorry all i can think w the tenel ka thing is:

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@m0th-person asked:

To follow up on the solo kids ask, Jaina had a weird love life. Her love interest that she eventually married was Jagged Fel. He is the son of the former baron of the empire , Sootir Fel, and Syal Antilles-Fel (Wedge Antilles sister) . (a picture I found on Wookieepedia when he was imperial head of state, the white streak in the hair seems to be genetic) Jag grew up in Thrawn’s empire of the hand (and was grown up with the chiss expectations, that’s literally the second quote on his wookieepedia page)

he had 3 out of his 5 other siblings die. He eventually became the imperial head of state (he first lost to his rival political candidate for the role because abeloth messed with it) and flash forward to the legacy comics, his descendants have revamped the imperial remnant into the Fel Empire. It’s mostly believed that his descendants are also Jaina’s because both Roan fel and his daughter empress Marasiah Fel are both force sensitive. And Jacen Solo’s descendant , Ania Solo, says she’s a distant cousin of Marasiah. (Roan)

(Marasiah and her love interest) ( the imperial knights were grey Jedi that served the Fel empire) — and in legends Han actually had a family tree (ancestors, specifically, Jonash e solo (who was Corellian royalty and the admiral-prince during the old republic time period)) , and him and Jagged fel’s father used to rivals in the imperial academy. Darth Vader attended his class graduation and I only find this funny because Han became his son-in-law.

jaina was rlly living that booktok enemies to lovers life back in the 90s huh. go girl i love her and support her weird love life decisions so much

omg go han having fancy royalty ties <3 see hanleia IS politically advantageous

[visenyaism]

Okay I simply must ask, what are Cersei and Rhaegar’s kids Aegon and Rhaenys(? - I assume that’s what they called the other daughter) like? Do they get along with their sister?

hmmm i think Rhaenys inherits her father’s melancholy and solemn sense of purpose, but very practical. not a big believer in magic or prophecy. why would she be. that’s all reserved for her brother who is going to save the world that’s what everyone says. has a genuine passion for statecraft that no one in her life humors or encourages aside from the occasional books sent by her uncle tyrion or her grandmother rhaella on a quiet day who might listen to her and nod quietly. her mother loved her when she was a little porcelain dress up doll toddler but has little regard for her any older. shunted between being betrothed to her uncle viserys and her brother aegon depending on if her father or grandfather has more power at court but really she’d be happiest as like. master of laws in her own right. neutral towards her brother, has a healthy amount of disdain for visenya ii because rhaenys recognizes the same thing in her that exists in viserys and aerys and maybe also her father as in there’s something living within you that makes you destroy everything you touch. she doesn’t understand it and doesn’t want to.

Aegon is pretty messed up given that Cersei is trying to groom him into the perfect extension of herself prince-king she was never allowed to be and Rhaegar is trying to groom him into being the messiah. Don’t think he ever gets the chance to be his own person or develop a personality outside of crushing pressure that externalizes as arrogance. when his parents’ marriage falls apart and both of them are trying to win Aegon over to have him be like their puppet heir he crashes out, is not seen at court for six months, comes back wrong. Not close with either of his sisters, not even the one he’s engaged to, because he’s not really close with anyone. readily apparent that he cannot take off the mask or turn off the messiah prince persona because there is simply nothing underneath. if Dany brings back the dragons in this at all it’s definitely his death that does it.

[another-goblin]

Spoilers for 2.3

Some thoughts, speculations, and headcanons about our little dialogue with Ratio (+more)

1. This tells me that Ratio and Aventurine are friends (or as close to being friends as both of them are currently capable of, which isn't much, but still). Yes, what Aventurine thinks about TB could have been them discussing their mission. But I choose to think that they just chat with each other sometimes, because they actually enjoy it. Aventurine feels comfortable enough to just share what he thinks about the people he meets, and he knows that Ratio is interested in his opinions, and he's right. He listens and takes note. btw people being actual friends is my favorite trope for romantic couples.

2. Ratio seeing his relationships with Aventurine, and our TB, and people in general as a teacher and a student and being constantly in his teacher mode made me think. Probably all significant relationships in his life were those of a teacher and a student. He cannot see himself in any other role because he has never experienced it himself. I wouldn't be surprised if even his parents provided him with knowledge and education instead of parental love. This may also be why he's so frustrated with people who don't fit these two roles: normal people not interested in bettering themselves through education, students who don't take studying seriously, most scholars, and especially the Geniuses, for not actively sharing their knowledge or doing anything to uplift humanity.

3. Ratio seeing their relationship with Aventurine in particular this way is appropriately weird and a bit unhealthy, in my opinion (but what did we expect from him), considering that they are undeniably close. But that's probably the only way he knows to show his care for somebody:  to teach them stuff and help them better themselves.

4. On Avenrutine's side, he seems amused by it, in a good way (the way he playfully refers to Ratio in the descriptions of some of the 2.1 quests, "Your professor friend," and so on). He even seems to be a bit proud that an actual professor has taken an interest in him.

5. But what can he teach Aventurine? He might share his actual knowledge. I think the "Death" and "Dormancy" part of his note is him doing that. But he mostly sees his duty as a teacher in showing people that they can achieve a lot by themselves if they stop relying on higher beings who don't care about them and start relying on themselves (with little help from Ratio.)

But "relying on himself and achieving things" is what Aventurine has been successfully doing most of his life. So is it the "little help from Ratio" that matters here? Or is he helping Aventurine stop relying on his supposedly supernatural luck and realize how capable he actually is?

6. This. (btw 'philosophical zombie' means "a being in a thought experiment in philosophy of mind that is physically identical to a normal human being but does not have conscious experience" (from wiki), so basically just some weird concept in philosophy.) But what an admirably in-depth knowledge of his 'not partner' he's showing here. Are you equally interested in the inner worlds of all your students, doc?…

7. Anyways, that reminded me of what Jade said about the Stonehearts, even using the same word 'void'. So. Aventurine has a void in his heart, caused by his inability to protect people he cares about. It's very significant that Diamond gave him the power of Preservation specifically to help him fill that void, to be finally able to protect somebody he cares about. The problem is, he doesn't have anyone to protect anymore (he doesn't even see himself as worthy of protection). Until recently. So, and I'm being extremely self-indulgent here, if Ratio got in danger, Aventurine protecting and saving him would fill the void in his heart. And btw what can boost one's self-worth more than protecting somebody who's important to you? I mean, he should snap out of that 'I'm only worth the money my slaveowner paid for me' mentality sooner or later, I hope.

(the problem is, I'm not sure how it can play out now that he doesn't have his stone anymore. And he lost it, not protecting anybody but nearly killing himself and furthering the IPC's agenda. Although doing something like that without the stone would be even more significant)

Also, I hope Ratio won't realize that, and won't deliberately put himself in danger for Aventurine to save him. You know, for educational purposes.

8. He just runs around helping people, making sure everybody's okay, and, emm, 'enhance their living', that's his thing.  And even broadly speaking, with his scientific discoveries, and him saving people on Herta station. And considering that 'everybody's my student' thing, I feel like he sees himself as responsible for everybody (in his own way).

And some people still think that he's selfish and egoistic. He even gets angry when we ask for an autograph:

9. Aaand that's the third time he disappeared in the middle of a conversation involving Aventurine. I understand him, though. As somebody who also 'detests noisy gatherings', group chats aren't much better.

------

ok this was supposed to be hidden in tags but i think tumblr found it too scandalous or something i don't know, i'll just leave it here: the more I write about Ratio, the stronger the urge to just call him Rat, you know, lovingly also whoops sorry, I'm physically incapable of writing short posts, it was supposed to be a short comment about their friendship, how much content can I squeeze out of a half-minute long dialogue?, the answer is yes, but I just had to get it out of my system

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.3)

You die in their arms (Part.3)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Wade Wilson, Mystique, Warren Worthington III, Bobby Drake, Laura Kinney, Kitty Pryde, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Sunspot

Wade Wilson

The battlefield was its usual chaos—blood, explosions, and a flurry of bullets—but none of it registered to Wade when he saw you go down. His joking banter stopped dead in its tracks, and for once, the Merc with a Mouth was silent as he sprinted over to you. His heart raced as he dropped to his knees beside you, his gloved hands shaking as he reached out to touch your bloodied form.

“Y/N, hey, c’mon... this isn’t funny,” Wade muttered, a nervous laugh escaping him as he gently pulled you into his lap. You were too still, too quiet, and it terrified him in ways he couldn’t put into words.

Your eyes fluttered open, and despite the pain, you gave him a small, familiar smile. “Wade... always the comedian...”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Gotta keep things light, right? But this... this isn’t light, babe. You gotta hang in there.” His voice cracked, and he cursed under his breath, trying to keep his usual bravado intact. But as he looked down at your wound, the blood soaking through your clothes, the reality hit him like a freight train.

“Wade... it’s okay. I’m okay,” you whispered, though your voice was weak.

“No, no, you’re not okay! You’re gonna be okay, though. You’ve gotta be, because I can’t... I can’t lose you.” His voice was raw, and for once, the usual joking tone was gone, replaced by desperation.

You reached up, your hand trembling as you touched his face, and he leaned into your touch, his heart breaking. “I love you, Wade... don’t forget that.”

Before he could respond, your eyes fluttered shut, and the weight of your hand slipped from his cheek. Wade froze, the world around him slowing to a crawl as he stared at you. “No... no, no, no!” He screamed, pulling you closer, his voice echoing in the chaos. For once, the man who always had a joke for every situation was left speechless, his heart shattered into pieces.

Mystique

The battlefield was nothing new to Mystique. She had fought in countless wars, led rebellions, and watched allies fall by her side, but none of that had prepared her for the sight of you, crumpled and broken on the ground, blood soaking into the dirt beneath you.

She shifted into her true form as she sprinted toward you, her yellow eyes wide with fear. When she reached you, she dropped to her knees, her usually stoic expression shattered by the sight of you so close to death. “Y/N,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a fear she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Your eyes fluttered open as she touched your face, her blue fingers tracing the lines of your features. “Raven...” you whispered, your voice weak and breathless.

“I’m here,” she said, her voice a mixture of desperation and determination. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll fix this.”

But as she looked down at the wound in your chest, her heart sank. Even with all her experience, all her skills, she knew there was nothing she could do to save you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to touch her cheek.

Mystique swallowed hard, her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her composure. “Don’t you apologize,” she growled, her voice rough with emotion. “You’re going to make it, do you hear me? I won’t let you die.”

You smiled weakly, your fingers brushing against her cheek as your strength faded. “I love you, Raven.”

Mystique’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She had been in love before, but never like this. The thought of losing you, of being without you, was more than she could bear. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

But as your body went limp in her arms, Mystique let out a strangled cry, her heart shattering into pieces. She pulled you close, her blue skin slick with your blood as she clutched you to her chest.

For the first time in her life, Mystique felt truly vulnerable.

Warren Worthington III

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the battlefield, but all Warren could see was you—lying motionless on the ground far below. His heart skipped a beat, panic rising in his chest as he dove from the sky, his white wings slicing through the air. Nothing else mattered but reaching you.

When he landed next to you, his breath was ragged. “Y/N!” he cried, his voice breaking as he knelt down, gathering you in his arms. His wings curled protectively around the two of you, shielding you from the chaos around.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focused, and you gave him a faint, weak smile. “Warren... you’re here.”

He nodded frantically, brushing the hair from your face, his hands shaking as he inspected the wound on your chest. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay, just hold on.”

But as he looked down at the deep, bleeding wound, his heart sank. He had seen injuries like this before, and he knew—he just couldn’t accept it. His wings trembled as he held you closer, cradling you in his arms. “Don’t... don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I need you.”

You reached up, your hand weakly caressing his face. “I love you... I always have.”

Warren’s breath hitched, tears welling in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your warmth fading. “I love you too. So much. Please, don’t go.” His voice was a broken whisper, the angel brought to his knees by the thought of losing you.

Your hand slipped from his cheek, and he felt your body grow limp in his arms. He let out a broken sob, clutching you close to his chest as his wings unfurled, stretching out toward the sky. For the first time in his life, the feeling of soaring through the skies meant nothing—because the only person who had ever grounded him, the only person who made him feel whole, was gone.

Bobby Drake

The battlefield was chaos, ice and fire clashing, mutants fighting for survival, but none of that registered in Bobby’s mind the moment he saw you fall. His heart dropped into his stomach, ice forming instinctively around him as he sprinted across the field toward you.

Sliding to his knees, he reached out, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Y/N? Hey, hey, stay with me,” he whispered, panic lacing his words as he cradled you against him. The cold that usually radiated from him felt distant, irrelevant, as he stared at the deep wound on your side.

Your eyes fluttered open, weak and unfocused. “Bobby...”

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to smile for you. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ve got this, okay?”

But the truth hung heavy in the air, and he knew it. The wound was too severe, and the blood pooling beneath you wasn’t stopping. He wanted to freeze time, to freeze everything so that this moment wouldn’t be real. But time kept moving forward, and you were slipping away.

You reached up, your hand cold against his cheek, but it wasn’t from his powers—it was from the life draining from you. “I love you... I always have.”

Bobby swallowed the lump in his throat, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too. God, I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

Your fingers slipped from his face, and your body went still in his arms. Bobby let out a choked sob, pulling you closer as the cold around him intensified, the frost spreading across the ground. For the first time, he didn’t care about controlling his powers. He didn’t care about anything, because the one person who made him feel alive was gone.

Laura Kinney

Laura fought like a force of nature, her claws slashing through the enemies with brutal precision. She had always been a weapon, honed and sharpened for battle, but when she saw you collapse on the battlefield, her heart clenched in a way that was unfamiliar—fear, raw and unfiltered, surged through her.

In an instant, she was at your side, her claws retracting as she dropped to her knees next to you. “Y/N!” Her voice was rough, strained with panic as she cradled you in her arms.

You opened your eyes, your face pale as you looked up at her, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Laura...”

“Don’t talk,” she growled, her hands hovering over your wound, unsure of what to do. She could heal, but you... you weren’t like her. She couldn’t fix this, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against her cheek. “I’m sorry... I didn’t... didn’t see it coming.”

Laura clenched her jaw, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. This wasn’t your fault.” She bit back the sob threatening to escape, her heart pounding in her chest as she held you closer.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice so soft it was almost lost in the wind. “Always.”

Laura’s breath caught in her throat, her grip on you tightening as she pressed her forehead to yours. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. “More than anything.”

But as your hand fell from her face and your body went limp in her arms, Laura let out a broken cry, her claws extending with a metallic "snikt" as she gripped your lifeless body to her chest. She had always been a fighter, a survivor, but in that moment, she felt powerless—because the one person who had ever made her feel like more than a weapon was gone.

Kitty Pryde

The battle was in full swing, with explosions and shouts all around, but the moment Kitty saw you go down, everything blurred into a distant hum. She phased through the chaos, slipping past debris and combatants until she reached you, her heart hammering in her chest.

Dropping to her knees beside you, Kitty gently pulled you into her lap, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “Y/N, no… come on, look at me.” Her voice was urgent, but there was already a knowing fear in her eyes as she scanned the wound on your abdomen.

Your eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on her face. “Kitty…”

“Shh, don’t talk, okay? I’ll get you out of here, we’ll be fine,” she promised, though her voice wavered. Kitty had been through countless battles, but none of them prepared her for this—the thought of losing you.

You gave her a weak smile, reaching up to brush your fingers against her cheek. “You’ve always... been my hero.”

Tears welled in Kitty’s eyes as she gripped your hand, pressing it to her face. “And you’re mine. Don’t you dare leave me, Y/N. We were supposed to have more time, more—” Her voice cracked as she choked on the words.

You squeezed her hand one last time, but the light in your eyes was fading. Kitty felt the moment your body went limp, and she let out a broken sob, her forehead resting against yours. For a long time, she just held you, her tears falling silently as the world around her collapsed.

Wanda Maximoff

The battlefield was littered with chaos—magic crackling in the air, debris scattered everywhere. Wanda had never felt so out of control, her powers threatening to lash out as she saw you fall to the ground, unmoving. She blinked to your side in an instant, the world slowing down as she knelt beside you.

“Y/N... no, no, please don’t...” Her voice wavered, her hands hovering over you as if afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what she already knew. A deep gash marred your chest, and blood soaked through your clothes at an alarming rate.

Your eyes opened just slightly, and when they landed on Wanda, you smiled faintly. “Wanda... I’m sorry...”

She shook her head, her hands trembling as she pressed them over your wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. “No, don’t apologize. You’re going to be fine—I’ll fix this. I can fix everything!” Her voice rose in panic, and she started to chant, her fingers glowing with red energy. But no matter how much magic she summoned, it wasn’t enough.

You reached up, your hand weakly brushing against her face. “I love you... you know that, right?”

Tears streamed down Wanda’s face, her vision blurring as she cupped your cheek. “I love you too... please don’t go, Y/N, I need you.” Her voice was a broken whisper, desperation flooding every word.

But you were slipping away, your breath becoming shallow, your grip on her loosening. And as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time, Wanda let out a gut-wrenching scream, the magic exploding out of her in a surge of grief and fury. The world bent and warped around her, but none of it mattered—because the one person who anchored her was gone.

Pietro Maximoff

One moment, you were standing beside him, fighting off enemies with your usual grace and skill. The next, you were on the ground, bleeding out. Pietro’s world slowed down even more than usual, his heart dropping into his stomach as he zipped to your side, cradling you in his arms before anyone else could even react.

“Y/N! No, no, no... please don’t do this to me,” he whispered, his hands shaking as he pressed them to the wound on your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His mind raced a thousand miles a second, calculating every possible scenario—but there was nothing he could do.

You opened your eyes, and when you saw him, you smiled weakly. “Pietro... you’re always so fast.”

“Not fast enough,” he said, his voice cracking as he brushed your hair away from your face. “I should’ve been there, should’ve protected you...”

You reached up, your fingers brushing his cheek. “You’ve always been... my hero.”

His breath hitched, tears blurring his vision as he pressed your hand to his face. “You can’t leave me, Y/N. We’ve got so much more to do. Remember? We were gonna run away together, see the world—just you and me.”

Your grip on his hand loosened, and Pietro felt your body grow still in his arms. He let out a choked sob, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close. For once, time felt too slow, and every second without you was a moment too long.

Sunspot

The battle raged on around you, the heat of Sunspot’s powers lighting up the battlefield as he took down enemy after enemy. But when he saw you collapse, his heart stopped, the fiery energy around him flickering for just a moment as panic surged through his chest. He flew to your side, his hands shaking as he dropped down next to you.

“Y/N? No, no, no... this isn’t happening,” Roberto’s voice was frantic as he cradled you in his arms, his usually confident demeanor crumbling. You were pale, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and there was so much blood...

You coughed weakly, your hand twitching as you reached up to touch his cheek. “Roberto...”

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he pressed his hand over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He had seen this happen in battle before, had seen friends and comrades fall—but not you. Never you. You were supposed to be safe, supposed to be by his side.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled faintly at him, despite the pain. “You’ve always... burned so brightly.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine, okay? You’ve gotta be fine, because I can’t—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Roberto wasn’t one to cry, but the thought of losing you? It was too much.

You gave him one last, soft smile, your hand falling from his cheek as your eyes slipped closed. Roberto felt the moment your heart stopped, and the fire inside him burned hotter, fiercer than ever before. But it wasn’t enough to bring you back.

With a broken sob, Roberto pulled you closer, his body trembling with grief. For the first time in his life, his powers—his fire—felt like nothing compared to the cold emptiness of losing you.

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Morally Questionable Anime Milfs Side A Round 3 Match 2

Propaganda:

Yuuko -

"Insanely powerful witch who has the power to controls time and space and granted wishes if one can afford to pay it and also a lazyass alcoholic who enjoys butting her large supernaturals into her assistant/future successor/personal punching bag/unofficial adopted son's love life and teaching him lessons by exposing the entirely of yokai population on his ass. She cannot do ANYTHING for anyone on her own term because she's the mediator between worlds and must stay ultimately neutral on all stances. She can equally leave you to death as well as save your soul from damnation."

Milsiril -

"She is Kabru's adoptive mom, and they love each other, but they have a strained relationship due to the circumstances of the adoption. She still doesn't fully see him as an adult, and because of the nature of an elf-human interspecies adoption, she might not ever see him as one. She's got issues hardcore from her youth in the Canaries, but she's doing her best to be a mother, even with her faults."

[shutupineedtothink]

It’s about Self-actualization, not Sacrifice

I can’t overstate how much I Do Not Want Agatha to sacrifice herself and/or die at the end of this series, and tbh I’m mad that people are even floating that idea out in the ether.

I don’t care if her sacrificing herself for Billy or anyone else is making a different choice from how she couldn’t save Nicky or stealing witches’ powers, and is therefore “narratively satisfying.” I don’t care if her dying means she gets to be in some kind of eternity with Rio. I don’t care if she was some kind of ghost figure in the comics and we could see her specter in future projects. I do not want Force ghost Agatha.

I want living, breathing, transformed Agatha to come out of this more herself than she ever has been before. Freed from the hold her past and her limiting beliefs and her reputation has had on her for the last several centuries. I want this to be a new beginning of her journey, not the end.

Fortunately, I think Jac and the writers have my back on this. (Please, god)

The journey here on the Road is not about sacrifice. Because a) I don’t believe and have never believed that Agatha actually sacrificed Nicky for the Darkhold. Red herring, it didn’t happen that way. So there’s no narrative reversal to be had there in the first place. And b) the various deaths, the witches’ stories we’ve seen play out so far have not been about Sacrifice either, at least not primarily.

Alice ended up sacrificing her life to save Agatha, but that was not her story in that moment. That was not the narrative we were meant to see.

Alice saving Agatha in that moment was about her stepping into her power, her highest self, the Protection witch she was always meant to be free from the generational curse. Someone who cannot stand by and watch others in pain if she can do something about it. That’s her highest self.

Lilia’s sacrifice wasn’t her true journey either. Her story was about embracing her power, becoming the Traveler, playing out her story in the way she saw and accepting her gifts for what they are (your task is not to control but to see). She too, regained her full power, her full self in that moment, and took out at least five of the Seven with her. She took her power back from the fear that had been holding her for so long, and became the highest version of herself, the Queen of Cups.

Agatha’s journey isn’t about sacrifice either, it never was.

Agatha’s journey, as I’ve said in other posts, is about finding her true self, her true power, unmasking herself from all of the facades she’s worn over the years to protect herself and hide her pain. Answering the question, who IS Agatha, all along? It’s about dealing with her trauma so that she can exist as her true self, and be seen by others as her true self.

We’ll find out in the next couple episodes what that looks like but I can already tell you she’s NOT inherently evil, or inherently good. She is a woman shaped by heartbreak, grief, and sorrow. She has made choices, some bad, some good, and she is capable of making new choices. She is capable of transformation, of peeling away all the false versions of her to find who her truest self is — which I believe, is a leader, a mentor, a guide. The Mother, in many ways.

In that case, sacrificing herself for Billy or the coven or whatever isn’t the play here. It’s teaching Billy (probably, and maybe Jen) what he’s capable of and how to access his true power. It’s the same role she played for Wanda, only this time, when Billy realizes what he’s done (create the Road, probably) she’s going to help him, not fight him for his power. There’s probably also some element of them trusting each other and working together, having seen each other’s true selves.

I’m not going to try to predict the specifics, but my point is that Agatha dying at the end is simply not the move. And if she does, the only way it works is if it’s a dying on the Road to be reborn in the real world type of situation (so everyone else lives too). In which case, fine, I guess, but I still don’t want her to die. I want her to choose life. I think with everything she’s suffered, death is the easy choice. Living and changing and growing and letting people in is much harder.

Besides what an absolute fucking waste it would be of Kathryn Hahn’s talent to just kill off Agatha here and not have her show up later and irritate the shit out of some Avengers.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hii! I’m requesting a five hargreeves x reader? like even in every place, every timeline they always doesn’t end up together because they can’t for some reason?? maybe something angsty (i love angst omggogn). Thank you! 🫶

oooo okay okay! I can definitely try for you! :)) ; I'm not the best with angst but I'll give it a shot lol ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also this was super fun to write, and this song is so awfully tua core I cannot. ; also this is formatted in different timelines for each break, the origin is always the same though the events in each timeline are all kinda different to a point but still surround the shows umbrella academy just to clear up any confusion

FIVE HARGREEVES ; again and again

summary ; in every timeline, you and five don't make it to the finish line. it's not meant to be.

warnings ; language, talk of death/murder, child abuse, gun violence

track ; again and again, the bird and the bee

word count ; 1.3k

masterlist

Every single timeline led to your untimely demise. You could never just have a happy ending. Whether it be a death, betrayal, the never-ending apocolypse getting in your way, you and Five just couldn't have a moment in peace to just be happy and live.

Somehow, in every timeline, you'd wind up together, no questions asked, not romantically, at least. Events and trigger points always kept you light years apart.

Since the ripe age of thirteen, he'd been fighting to get his way home. He spent damn near fifty years trapped in an apocalyptic world, searching for any answers, or just an escape. He cried by his siblings' dead bodies for years, watching as they rotted into the dead Earth. He trained himself into the deadliest assassin on the planet, his DNA being mixed with those of serial killers to enhance himself, which was not run by him first.

You spent most of your life trapped in a facility, being trained as a child soldier, working your way into a government weapon. You never knew anything until Five rescued you. You could barely interact with people like a normal person. All you knew was harm, violence, people looking at you, expecting something out of you. It took you forever to realize that Five and his siblings weren't like everyone you'd ever known inside a lab, they were family.

You were both science experiments until you'd found your ways out.

But just because you flee one bad decision doesn't mean you escaped them all.

"Y/n!" Five shouts, lunging toward you, trying to protect you from The Handler's automatic weapon.

Though, no one could survive five shots to the face and chest.

You fall on your face, an arm reaching out toward him before he also falls alongside his siblings. He lays next to you, the powerful strikes having both knocked you back. He struggles to breathe, gasping for any last bit of life to keep him long enough, calling for anything he had left inside to save himself.

"I'm glad you're still alive," she smiles deviously, glancing over the bloody mess she'd caused, standing over him, pressing the weapon to his forehead. "You got to see how this all played out,"

He slowly turns his head, looking at your lifeless expression, eyes half opened, staring at him as blood trails from your lips. The Handler chuckles, amused by his infatuation with you. God, he'd ruin any timeline for you.

"It'll be okay, Five. I can keep the world spinning just fine without you."

Bang!

"Five!?" you scream frantically, barely able to keep yourself afloat in the deep oceanic water. It was fucking freezing and it burned your eyes to the point you'd rather rip them out yourself.

You gasp, choking up some saltwater before wading up to the shore, slightly unaware of the previous events. One moment you and Five were fighting some mysterious, comical super-villain with powers and the next moment you were halfway drowning in the deep water down the cliff. How you hadn't died was beyond you.

You sit on the sandy shore, laying on your back, eyes closed to protect yourself from the burning sun above. Anything to just feel warm again.

You spread your jacket over a rock, waiting for it to slowly dry in the sun. You rest your boots next to it, resting your feet up on the rock while you lay the rest of yourself on the sand.

With your mind so foggy and your eyesight so dizzy, you end up falling asleep on the sandy shore without the presence of Five. Jesus Christ, you'd completely forgotten about the dinner you set up that evening. Screw any plans to try and confess to him, then.

When you wake up at the break of dawn the next morning, you realize that Five is no longer by your side, nor was he in the first place when you saved yourself from the water. You scramble into the sea, looking for him like maybe he was able to survive underwater for twelve hours.

After frantic searching with no leads, you fall to your knees, soaking yourself once more.

You spent the next three decades waiting for him on that shore. You visited every day you could, waiting for him for hours when you had nothing better to do, waiting for the tides to bring him back to you.

You didn't know why you kept your hopes up all those years, believing he'd appear from the sea like he'd been protected by magical creatures beneath the deep blue. You just couldn't accept that the water had become his tomb and you couldn't help it.

The haunting sounds of waves crashing on land and the sound of seagulls fill your ears in your sleep while you dream up nightmares of finding his skeleton on the beach, accompanied by his tattered uniform.

Your arms were open as you await his return, whenever, wherever, it would be.

"This finally the end of the apocalypses?" you ask, a drink resting in your hand as you sit beside Five at the bar.

He shrugs. "Guess so. We can't fix it, there's no hope" he sighs, taking a shot. "I love you, Y/n,"

"Love you too, dude" you reply casually, taking a shot after him. You glance back at Sloane and Luther, watching them live up their last night together. "Wanna go spend whatever time we have left together?"

"I don't dance," he chuckles.

"Oh, come on," you roll your eyes, "We're gonna die for good, enjoy life while you can." you hold out a hand for him, waiting for him to take it as you flash puppy dog eyes at him.

He sighs, setting his glass down, taking your hand. He allows you to drag him onto the dance floor, joining the couples and Viktor, Ben, and Klaus as Kehlani's Vegas plays over the stereo. You both drunkenly dance together, enjoying the solemn, mutual love between you two one last time.

Unrequited love, my favorite trope.

You dance the night away until you fade into the fabric of the universe, joining the other Hargreeves as you're mushed into dust, creating mere stars in the sky, surrounded by billions of others.

You'd see each other again someday.

You squeeze Five's hand tightly, keeping your eyes glued on him as the glowing durango-marigold soup ooze surrounds your ankles. The family shares defeated looks, enjoying their last moments together.

Five stares at you with tears in his eyes, his cheeks slightly red. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect you in any universe."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering what he was talking about. Maybe more about that diner he found in that subway he kept blinking to.

"The diner. Every timeline ends with an apocalypse because of us, because of the marigold," he shakes his head. "And in every one, I couldn't save you,"

You search his eyes, looking for dishonesty, which you couldn't find. "...There had to be a timeline where I couldn't save you, Five. You tried. I tried. We tried."

He looks down at the rising ooze, watching and feeling as it eats his waist. He's silent, defeated in himself, knowing he couldn't do anything right. He couldn't save his family, he couldn't save his love, he couldn't even confess to them. He was dying, knowing that he failed. He failed everyone he ever gave a fuck about.

He squeezes your hand, feeling his neck start to be consumed, looking up at the ceiling with the others. Some of the roof had been torn away, exposing the night sky.

He softly smiles, glancing over at you. "There's Sagittarius,"

You smile, recognizing the pattern of stars above.

"See you guys in the next timeline?" Allison sniffles.

You nod. "See you in a minute,"

"Where are we meeting, again? It's not gonna be this shithole" Viktor chuckles.

"How about somewhere peaceful? Anywhere" Five replies.

"Tropical," Klaus suggests with a soft smile. "Tropical sounds nice,"

"Tropical it is, then."

[vir-tanadahl]

The Burden of the Dread Wolf

Summary: Solavellan ending told from Solas' POV. Obviously, Veilguard spoilers.

Solas—no, the Dread Wolf—stands battered and broken, bruises blooming like shadows on his skin, a dull ache thrumming through him with every breath. After all these years, he’s so tired. How could these last ten years weigh on him more than a millennium of existence? He, the Dread Wolf, has sacrificed so much to come this far. To claw back the power stolen from his people. To avenge the death of Mythal.

The regrets have always clawed at him. He regrets leaving the Fade. He regrets not stopping Mythal from becoming a god, from following the path that led her to death. Most of all, he regrets… not saving her. She called to him, once, asking for his aid. And he came, heart open, reverent. His love for her was beyond romance, something ancient and deep, an adoration etched into his very being. Her death was the final twist of the knife that cleaved wisdom from pride.

He regrets claiming her power, believing he could mend a shattered world, erase the pain he himself had wrought. He regrets the blood he spilled, even Mythal’s vessel, to seize the strength he thought he needed. He regrets the death of Varric, another thread severed in his relentless pursuit. And he regrets not staying by his vhenan’s side—his heart, the Inquisitor. His light.

He regrets his betrayal of Felassan. Of Rook.

Yet here he stands, the Dread Wolf, carrying the weight of those choices, haunted by the choices he has made.

"Please, Rook. I don't want to fight you." His voice trembles, a rare crack in his guarded tone, pleading and raw. There's no deception in his words this time, no clever twist or hidden intent.

Rook tries desperately to reach him, her words filled with a pleading urgency. Rook tries to reason with him, pleading with him to see the pain caused by Elgar’nan and Ghilian’nain. She tries to pull him back, to make him understand the cost of his path.

But Rook doesn’t realize he carries a burden heavier than just their sins. He believes he broke the world—because he is the one who broke it—and only he can restore it. Unbreak it. He feels that duty, thrumming in his very bones. He has to make it right. He will make it right.

Yet, he can’t see what lies just beyond his reach. His wisdom, once clear and guiding, has been twisted into something darker. Pride whispers that he can undo this mistake, that he alone can reshape what was lost. But true wisdom would show him beauty even in the scars of his unintended creation. The Dread Wolf has been trapped in his own prison of regrets long before he was accidentally trapped in the prison he created for the Gods.

“Destroying everything won’t fix your mistakes,” Rook says firmly, her gaze steady as she extends his lyrium dagger toward him. “If you want to save this world, bind yourself to the very thing you’re trying to erase.” Her voice is low but resolute, her outstretched hand unwavering. Another regret, he thinks, already settling like a weight in his chest.

The Dread Wolf takes a deep breath, turning slowly toward the place where the ritual will begin. His head falls forward, and he closes his eyes. “I… I cannot.” His voice is strained, heavy with exhaustion. “To stop now would dishonor everyone I’ve wronged to get here.” The terrible things he’s done, the lives he’s destroyed—they press down on him like shadows, demanding he see this through. If he stops now, what meaning would all that suffering hold?

“Even if…” Her voice, barely a whisper, cuts through his thoughts, and he turns, feeling his heart twist at the sound. “Even if those you’ve wronged asked you to stop?”

He knows that voice. His breath catches sharply, a tremor of recognition running through him as he meets her gaze. The dagger slips lower in his hand, almost forgotten, as he turns further to face her, his mouth parted in stunned silence. “Vhenan…” Solas breathes, the word heavy with disbelief. His voice wavers, pride crumbling as the guarded walls around his heart begin to fall, leaving him raw and exposed in her presence. His chest tightens, a tremor passing through him as he struggles to comprehend the impossible—she is here, standing before him

She is the woman he never meant to love but couldn’t help himself. The one who helped him see worth in this world he’d crafted out of his own wounded heart. She saw him—truly saw him—for who he was, asking questions that peeled back the layers he’d hidden behind for centuries, curious and kind.

“You think you’re beyond saving, but you’re wrong.” Her voice is soft, coaxing, her words weaving into his mind like a lifeline. “I’m here, walking the dinan’shiral with you.”

Pain and confusion cloud his gaze, and Solas bows his head, his voice rough. “I lied to you. I betrayed you.” Shame ripples through him, and he dares not meet her eyes.

She steps closer, her voice unwavering. “I forgive you. All you have to do�� is stop.” He turns fully to her, his expression strained, the weight of regret etched across his face. “Ir abelas, vhenan,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he lowers his head again. “But… I cannot.”

Solas turns back toward the ritual site, his shoulders slumped. “Long before I met you, I failed my oldest friend. She died because of that failure. If I leave the Veil in place, I am destroying the world she wanted. And I will have…” his voice trails for a moment. “She would have died for nothing.”

He lifts the dagger, preparing to begin the ritual, when a raven’s sharp caw cuts through the silence. The bird swoops down, shifting midair into a figure cloaked in shadow and mystery.

“And whose fault is that, Dread Wolf?”

Solas whirls, momentarily stunned. “Morrigan?” Surprise flashes across his face as he tries to reconcile the sudden appearance of the Witch of the Wilds.

“One appellation among many I wear,” she replies, her voice smooth and enigmatic. “Advisor to Orlais, Witch of the Wilds, Daughter of Flemeth…” She pauses, her gaze piercing. “And once, long ago, an old friend.”

Solas’s gaze shifts, realizing he’s now surrounded by three women. Rook steps forward, her expression resolute as she lifts a small statuette of Mythal. “Mythal lives on in her,” she says quietly, “and in this.” She places the statuette in Morrigan’s outstretched hand, who, with a knowing glance, activates it.

A soft, ancient glow pulses from the statuette, filling the air with an ethereal light. Memories rush forward—fragments of Mythal, fragments of that fateful moment of betrayal when he failed her. Solas stands frozen, the weight of the past pressing down upon him, as Mythal’s essence shimmers, a reminder of the failure he made.

He gasps, his breath hitching as his gaze falls upon the form of Mythal as he once knew her, luminous and fierce, yet filled with a serenity that pierces his soul. His head lowers slightly, his mouth parted in silent reverence. “Mythal…” he manages, his voice barely a whisper, as if any louder would shatter this fragile moment.

The essence of Mythal stands before him, her form imposing yet gentle. “I pulled you from the Fade you cherished and thrust you into war. I turned your wisdom into a weapon…” She pauses, her eyes softened by an ancient sorrow. “And it broke you.”

Solas bows his head, shame tightening his posture, his voice trembling with regret. “The things I have done…” His words are heavy, laced with anguish and remorse.

But Mythal raises a hand, stopping him gently. “Are not yours to bear alone, my friend,” she says, her voice warm and kind. “The wrongs we committed, we committed together.” She reaches out, resting a hand on his shoulder, and a warmth spreads through him—her forgiveness, her absolution.

Solas’s shoulders slump, his head low, his hands trembling as he holds the dagger close to his chest. It’s the very blade that severed her life, a symbol of his failure and the pain he’s carried.

“I release you from my service,” she commands softly, her voice both gentle and resolute before disappearing. He no longer needs to be the Dread Wolf.

A shudder passes through him as the words sink in, releasing a weight he’s held for far too long. He leans forward, hands braced on his knees, head bowed, processing the unexpected mercy she has offered. Pain lingers, but beneath it… a flicker of relief, tentative and bittersweet.

The Inquisitor kneels beside him, her presence steady and warm as she places a gentle hand on his arm. “There is no fate but the love we share,” she murmurs, her voice soft and unwavering. Her words hit him like a tidal wave, and his breath falters, a tremor running through him as he clutches his chest, feeling the sharp ache of despair radiate through his being. He closes his eyes briefly, the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Slowly, he rises, shoulders still hunched beneath the burden he carries. He turns, his gaze trailing over the tears in the Veil that continue to spread, multiplying like dark wounds in the sky—a reminder of his failures, his responsibility.

With a final look at the three women before him, he raises the lyrium dagger and, with grim resolve, slices the palm of his hand, letting his blood flow to complete the ritual. His voice is quiet but steady as he speaks, binding himself to the Veil. “My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will shield the innocent from the consequences of my past failures.”

He feels the connection take hold, a bond now woven between himself and the Veil, and though he stands, he feels as if a part of him has willingly surrendered to bear this eternal penance. “The Titans’ dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help to soothe its anger.” He tells them as he hands the lyrium dagger to Rook.

“I will go and seek atonement,” he says quietly, turning back toward the gaping tears in the Veil, the rifts he has sworn to mend.

“But you don’t have to go alone.” Her voice, gentle yet resolute, pulls him back, stirring something fragile within him. His heart clenches as he twists to face her, disbelief clouding his expression. That she would even suggest such a thing… after everything he’s done, everything he’s caused. And yet, her hand slips into his, warm and grounding.

He shakes his head, his voice laced with quiet desperation. “Where I’m going is terrible,” he whispers, pleading for her to understand. But her gaze remains steady, unwavering, filled with a fierce, unyielding love.

“It won’t be terrible if I’m with you,” she replies, her voice filled with a soft strength. “We’ll make this journey together, always.”

Before he can protest, she draws him close, her arms wrapping around him as she presses her lips to his, a kiss filled with love and a vow of loyalty he can hardly believe. He’s overcome, struggling to comprehend that she would willingly join him in his path of penance—and yet, a surge of gratitude and wonder swells within him, easing the shadows of doubt and despair he has carried alone for so long.

They pull apart, his gaze lingering on her for a heartbeat longer before he turns to face Rook. “Thank you, Rook,” he says softly, his voice full of gratitude and respect. He holds her gaze a moment, then, with a final nod, turns toward the largest tear in the Veil, his path stretching out before him.

Fear gnaws at him—fear that, at the last moment, she might choose not to follow, that the enormity of what lies ahead might make her hesitate. He keeps his eyes forward, too afraid to turn back, his heart pounding with the uncertainty.

But then, he feels it: her hand resting firmly on his shoulder, the warmth of her fingers curling around his forearm, grounding him. A quiet strength flows from her touch, and he closes his eyes briefly, a wave of relief washing over him. She is here, unyielding, choosing this path with him.

Together, they step forward and vanishing into the Fade.

[sciderman]

you know i'm kind of obsessed with the tragedy of gwen stacy in the tasm movies because she's - she's such an interesting, tragic creature. we get into it a little in tasm1, that. you know, her father is a police captain - you know, authoritative. incredibly protective of her.

and looking at it, gwen is constantly the victim of men deciding what's best for her. her father decides it's best for her that she stay away from peter. peter decides it's best too, obviously, even though it hurts. it's not a question of what gwen wants.

thinking of the scene in tasm where gwen confides in peter, as she's cleaning his wounds, that she knows what this is - every day she sees her father strap a badge to his chest and she doesn't know if he's going to make it home or not.

gwen's powerless - she has these men in her life that she loves that are constantly making dangerous decisions that put their own lives in danger, and she's constantly expected to sit by passively and do nothing and pray for them to get home safely. like her own desires don't matter. she wants them to be there, she wants to have a say in what these men do, because she loves them and they're important to her. but she has no power. she knows that what they're doing is noble and good for the world, but she is sidelined and never listened to. she has no superpowers, no badge, and no say in the matter.

and her father gets killed. doing something stupid and heroic. and she wasn't involved, and she was powerless to prevent it. and even still, after his death, he's trying to push gwen out of the way of danger. strip her of agency in her own life. she can't be with peter. she doesn't get a say in the matter.

of course that doesn't work out, and peter and gwen wind up back together - but peter is eaten up with guilt, and still thinks he shouldn't be with gwen because gwen is safer without him, yadda yadda, and gwen is sick of it. gwen is sick of men dictating what becomes of her. what she can and can't have. where she should and shouldn't be. so.

i always made fun of this bit of script - it's so, so funny.

"i break up with you peter. i break up with you."

i make fun of it all the time, but i get it. i get why it's written this way. the tasm2 script isn't subtle. gwen is pointedly telling peter that she is calling the shots. peter cannot dictate her fate. this is her choice. she breaks up with him. she is the one with power in this dynamic. she is taking the power. she is not his damsel that needs protecting. she is allowed to tell peter what she wants, and make her own decision about what's best for her.

cut to the end, where peter webs gwen to a car. he wants her out of the line of fire. even though she's proven she's helpful and capable, more so than peter. peter wants her out of harms way, so that he can do something heroic and dangerous.

gwen is SICK of it!! she's going to be heroic and dangerous too. if these men can throw themselves into the line of fire with little care for the people they leave watching helplessly in the rafters than, by god, gwen can do it too. she's not going to watch helplessly as peter fights his battle on his horse, dick swinging, swords drawn. and she's not going to passively sit by as peter gets himself killed because actually, peter's not as smart as he thinks he is.

he's just stupid enough to take the hits and scrape himself off the pavement afterwards. gwen is the one with the plan. and if gwen weren't there, peter might not have been able to pull everything off. he probably would've eventually taken them down in the end, but he would've definitely taken more of a beating, and more property damage, and potentially, more civilian casualties. it was a good thing gwen was there. female excellence. it's not always about who can take a hit.

of course, in the end up - gwen winds up in peril, and no. she doesn't have powers that can save her. and, these men who try and do everything to protect her - they're fallible. but it was her choice. her choice to do the heroic thing, despite her fragility. her choice to step into the line of fire, without super-strength or spider-reflexes. and i think it's a poetic, heroic way to go.

one thing though, that i feel is mismanaged, almost infuriatingly so – is how underdelivered on gwen's death as a heroic gesture. in the end it becomes more about peter's guilt than it does about gwen's sacrifice. because they still wanted to have the iconic "fall" scene from the comics. so, in the end, gwen becomes powerless. she's mid fall. she can't do anything. she has to wait for peter to save her, in the end.

it's infuriating because captain stacy's death is unfalteringly heroic. he dies to save peter.

gwen puts herself in the line of fire to save peter. in the same way her father did. but she's robbed of the heroic framing her father gets because in the end, she has to be saved. in the end, it isn't framed like she saved peter. it's framed like peter failed to save her.

so we get a peter parker pity party instead of actually, what should be a beautiful, heroic send-off for gwen stacy, who became a hero despite every man trying to sideline her.

tl;dr tasm gwen deserved the same heroic framing her father got but hollywood messed up again because they don't know how to do female hero stories

[calliesmemes]

POPULAR TROPES AND CLICHÉ QUOTES

Assorted ASKBOX PROMPTS reminiscent of beloved TROPES seen in literature, on screen, and on stage.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses

❛ So you’re the girl that I’ve heard so much about. ❜

❛ I’ve heard so much about you. ❜

❛ I could corrupt you. It would be easy. ❜

❛ Not every puzzle is yours to solve. ❜

❛ The truth is stranger than my worst dreams. ❜

❛ You will become everything you hate. ❜

❛ Wait. Did you hear something? ❜

❛ I have a feeling this has something to do with you. ❜

❛ This isn’t a dream, then. ❜

❛ All will be well. I am sure of it. ❜

❛ We’re in this together. ❜

❛ You were born to make history. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ What I did, I did for us. ❜

❛ You’re not safe here. ❜

❛ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because of you. ❜

❛ You’re my fate. Always my fate. ❜

❛ There’s a storm coming. ❜

❛ We’re not so different, you and I. ❜

❛ Hello? Is anybody here? ❜

❛ You don’t even know my real name. ❜

❛ To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? ❜

❛ Who are you, little girl? ❜

❛ I like you more than I planned. ❜

❛ I wish I could protect you from everything. ❜

❛ I shouldn’t be jealous; you aren’t even mine. ❜

❛ You won’t leave me, will you? ❜

❛ You know you should not have survived that, right? ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you’ll always be my brother. ❜

❛ The light … it’s calling to you. Just let it in. ❜

❛ If it means something to you, fight for it. ❜

❛ Can you remember who you were before? ❜

❛ The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. ❜

❛ Never again will I let someone in. ❜

❛ I see something in you that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ There are traditions and expectations that you must uphold. ❜

❛ I won’t risk our enemies getting their hands on you. ❜

❛ A knife? Are you flirting with me? ❜

❛ Let me be your protector. ❜

❛ I am more than just a copy of you. ❜

❛ Everything’s about to change. ❜

❛ I don’t want to hurt you. ❜

❛ You have no idea who I am, do you? ❜

❛ You’ll never get away with this! ❜

❛ I’m not who I was before. ❜

❛ We’re gonna be legends someday. ❜

❛ Straighten up, little soldier. ❜

❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜

❛ I did this all for you. ❜

❛ If you wish to see strange things, then I have the power to show them to you. ❜

❛ What’s it like to be a prophet? ❜

❛ You are not your father. ❜

❛ Are you flirting, or starting a fight? ❜

❛ I’m not the person that my parents wanted me to be. ❜

❛ I need to be touched. ❜

❛ This is where you belong. ❜

❛ I want a life full of incredible adventures. ❜

❛ Let’s cause a little trouble. ❜

❛ Relax; it’s just magic. ❜

❛ I want to go home. ❜

❛ My heart belongs to you. ❜

❛ We are connected in a way that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ I am just as strange as you. ❜

❛ Feel like making a deal with the devil? ❜

❛ You were dead. Yet here you are. ❜

❛ I have loved you since we were children. ❜

❛ I will always find you. I promise. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind. ❜

❛ It’s you. It’s always been you. ❜

❛ You should be terrified of me. ❜

❛ I always get what I want. ❜

❛ Why are you the way you are? ❜

❛ You and I are so alike. ❜

❛ I could tear you apart if I wanted. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ I will always be proud of you, my love. ❜

❛ Aren’t you a deadly little thing? ❜

❛ You were born to lead. ❜

❛ I have existed a long, long time. ❜

❛ Give me one good reason why I should wear this dress. ❜

❛ None of your scars can make me love you less. ❜

❛ Your friendship means the world to me. ❜

❛ Without you, I don’t exist. ❜

❛ For you, I’d leave it all behind. ❜

❛ You say witch like it’s a bad thing. ❜

❛ Maybe we can fix each other. ❜

❛ I’m afraid of what I’ve become. ❜

❛ Get the hell out of my head. ❜

❛ Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. ❜

❛ I do not need to be saved. ❜

❛ I want answers, goddamnit! ❜

❛ I don’t need a name. ❜

❛ Your existence gives me a headache. ❜

❛ Is there anything I can do for you? ❜

❛ This isn’t going to be like last time. ❜

❛ You took everything from me. ❜

❛ I just want to live my own life. ❜

❛ I have nowhere else to go. ❜

❛ You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you. ❜

❛ The most dangerous thing is to love. ❜

❛ I’m doing this for my family. ❜

❛ You have information that we need. Valuable information. ❜

❛ I lost everyone; I can’t lose you too! ❜

❛ You cannot destroy me. ❜

❛ It is my duty to protect you. ❜

❛ It’s only illegal if we get caught. ❜

❛ I have a weakness for you. ❜

❛ I will follow you into the dark. ❜

❛ Maybe I’m not the person everyone thinks I am. ❜

❛ Pretty armour doesn’t make a warrior. ❜

❛ We could get arrested for this. ❜

❛ You’re too good for this world. ❜

❛ I’ve been waiting a long time for you. ❜

❛ You must be mad, coming here like this. ❜

❛ We’re two halves of a whole idiot. ❜

❛ We were never welcome here. ❜

❛ Where you go, I go. ❜

❛ My brother never came back. ❜

❛ Be on your guard. ❜

❛ The light will always win over darkness. ❜

❛ Blaming is often easier than understanding. ❜

❛ I think that you will change the world some day. ❜

❛ Look at what you’ve done. ❜

❛ Your mind is playing tricks on you. ❜

❛ How can someone so evil be so kind? ❜

❛ You were nothing before you met me. ❜

[azumasoroshi]

happy 12/24-25! i think too often about the “gege hates gojo” jokes because holy shit it is PERSONAL with gege

like yeah he sealed him and killed him but like. every aspect of gojo’s character is just so. gege really said “i’m going to make you the strongest character in the history of ever and you’re going to be cool and attractive and funny and your fans will love you, BUT:

The entire point of your character is that no matter how much power you have, you are helpless to save the people you truly care about

You’re so powerful that the only way you can narratively exist without destroying every enemy in jjk other than Sukuna is to get snatched away, sealed, get your powers taken away, or die (even in the fucking video game you only get a certain number of turns to act before you get yoinked)

You can never escape the system you were born into because your power has become your character

You’ll think you’re changing the system for the better but end up perpetuating the system anyway in allowing children to go on dangerous missions

You cannot supervise said children on dangerous missions because you’re running around Japan like a headless chicken at the whims of the higher ups

You never got the chance to fully grow up because a part of you died when Toji killed you and a part of you died when Suguru left you and what else is there left

Your own desire for power blinded you to your best friend’s depression and it’s one of your greatest regrets yet a part of you still thinks Suguru wasn’t strong enough to keep up which is why you keep saying you want strong allies who can keep up with you and you are just terribly equipped to handle your students’ emotional challenges and insecurities even though you try your best

You will never make any emotional connections as lovely as the one from your youth which you still cry about on the rare occasions you actually sleep

You will only be able to tell Suguru you love him right before you KILL HIM

No matter whether Suguru was your best friend, ex-boyfriend, crush that you never confessed to, or boy you only realized you were in love with after he left you, you will NEVER be able to get over him and an evil brain will use this against you and several people you care about will get fucked over because you cared too much

Even though your students/coworkers sometimes like you the first thing 99% of them think of when they think of you is “The Strongest” and even in your breakup arc Suguru, the one person you wanted to stand by your side and share the title, began to think of you in that way as well and distanced himself from you because of it.

The narrative requires that you be lonely at the top as a direct consequence of your power - even metaphorically, infinity separates you from the rest of the world and your wide range of destruction makes it so allies are a hindrance in battle and you could destroy the people you dare about in seconds (see: thank fuck todo stopped yuuji from stepping into range of purple)

You are going to fight the boy you may or may not have raised from childhood because of the other boy with Sukuna inside him that he asked you to save and you can’t hesitate because the last time you hesitated about someone you cared about you got sealed and people died

You may or may not have died to the strongest curse of all time and are left forever unsatisfied even in death because not only was your culty/cunty best friend not there to cheer you on, but you think Sukuna couldn’t even go all out against you, the strongest sorcerer of your time, despite strength being your whole thing

and as a bonus, you also “died” after cockily saying “Nah I’d win” which will get extensively memed on the internet at your expense”

like not to woobify gojo or anything but oh my god jesus fucking christ gege

he was like “ill make you hot as a treat mostly for myself because i like drawing hot men but you’re going to be so incredibly fucking doomed by the narrative in every possible way”

like he loves drawing shirtless men but he never drew gojo shirtless like gege!! GEGE!!!! what did he DO to deserve this level of narrative ire omfg

[celaenaeiln]

I just finished Forever Evil and I think it’s insane how this man who even though is a parallel for Batman is still not Bruce and yet he shares the same codependency to his Dick, just like Bruce is lmao 😂 I’m starting to think that Damian is the only Wayne who have a healthy relationship with Dick, and that’s because it’s Dick himself who mentors & takes care of him 😂

YES YES YES!!!

I'm so glad you noticed!!

Dick isn't just made for Bruce okay, he was made for the Wayne family.

Like this is actually canon!!

Telos - the AI who was the one who used his powers to cause the convergence of the multiverses in Convergence - says this

Convergence Issue #4

"Your Batman. He died protecting you. Or trying to. The bond between you and Bruce Wayne echoes in every reality."

And he's right. Well, almost.

Convergence Issue #4

THOMAS WAYNE LITERALLY WENT FROM "I don't care if you die" to "I'M BLOWING MYSELF UP TO SAVE YOU. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR LAST NAME IS, IT'S WAYNE NOW BISH" in two seconds flat.

Convergence Issue #2

And the thing is Bruce's dad and Dick didn't even know each other until like an hour ago but instantly Thomas Wayne was taken by him.

Ofcourse you have Bruce's brother too who also loves Dick

Justice League (2011) Issue #25

"In another world, you called me the brother you never had. And you were the brother I always hoped for."

Which is a pretty big thing given what he did to Bruce:

Justice League (2011) Issue #25

But does it end there? Is Thomas Wayne Jr's twisted desire to have Dick by his side again the finale of the show? NO BECAUSE IT ISN'T EVEN THE CLIMAX

He murdered Dick's parents just so he could have Dick bond with him. He crossed to a whole another world because he was driven mad with grief at not having Dick by his side

Justice League (2011) Issue #25

You know what this means? If Bruce hadn't reached Dick in time, then Dick would be Talon on Owlman's earth again. His intent here isn't just fixing his earth as he claims to Dick. No, his real intent is the unspoken thoughts in the Owlman text.

But you know what's kinda freaky? Bruce on another world has done the exact same thing as Owlman. Owlman has watched Dick for a long time and then killed Dick's parents. This Bruce Wayne didn't kill Dick's parents but -

The All Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder Issue #1

"Yeah, I've had my eye on him for awhile."

Bruce, can you make it sound any creepier and stalkery?

Aside from the general creepiness of observing Dick, they do have the same codependency issues. Now that you bring it up, Thomas Wayne Jr's mental state relied on Dick's happiness and exitence and Bruce's does too -

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1074

When Bruce gets possessed by a demon, in the safety of his mind, he goes back to two memories he cherishes dearly, two memories where he uses as pillars of strength his dad and the Dick.

When Dick is killed by the monster in his mind, the light in Bruce's head literally goes out. He then goes to the worst place and time in his mind - his parents' death. I seriously cannot overstate the importance of Dick to him.

He and Dick are connected in every universe.

Damian undoubtedly has the healthiest codependency relationship with Dick. Unlike Thomas who died for him, Thomas Wayne Jr who killed for him, Bruce who lives off him, Damian needs him in a way that doesn't drive Dick crazy lol. For now.

In the future if Dick dies though,

Batman (1940) Issue #666

So....

the entire Wayne family's kinda crazy about Dick.

[scribefindegil]

[Image ID: A page from the Reigen manga. Panel 1: Reigen stands in a forest looking exhausted. He says, “At least I bought bug spray this time . . .” Panel 2: He sprays himself down. Panel 3: A closeup of his face. He’s dripping with sweat and his eyes are sunken. He says, “Preparations complete.” Panel 4: Reigen loosens his tie as he staggers towards the viewer. His face is sweaty and he has a haggard expression. He says, “All right then . . .” End ID.]

Okay listen it’s been a month since i read this and i CANNOT stop thinking about “At least I bought bug spray this time. . .” It’s just. It’s so Reigen.

This man is dying. He is being eaten alive by a curse that will kill him in less than 3 hours--probably closer to 2 by this point because this place is pretty far outside of Seasoning City. Since Serizawa couldn’t destroy the curse, he knows that Mob is the only person who could get rid of it--and he doesn’t think that he’ll get there in time, if he comes at all. Reigen’s last-ditch plan is to try to trudge into the most haunted forbidden evil woods he knows about in the hope that he can make the curse that’s killing him fight a different, worse curse, and if that doesn’t work at least he’ll die in a place far away from other people and the curse will be prevented from victimizing anyone else.

And what does he say when he arrives at the Evil Death Woods? “At least I brought bug spray.”

One of the things that makes Reigen’s character work is that he is Just Some Guy. A deeply bewildering, paradoxical guy who lies for a living, but still just a guy. Different characters in MP100 are trying to exist in slightly different genres, and for all his absurdity Reigen is the character who is the most grounded in the real world. He worries about his fire insurance during a psychic terrorist attack. He’s the one who goes “Hey, this is illegal?” and “Kids should not be dealing with this” and “You’re supposed to be adults, what is your PROBLEM?” when he’s introduced to the shonen-anime-villain Scars.

And he’s the sort of person who thinks, yeah, dying of a horrible curse in the woods would be bad, but you know what would be worse? That and bug bites. And he’s not . . . wrong, but it’s not something that anyone else in the series is going to think of. It’s such a normal worry in such an abnormal situation. It’s so grounded.

And it’s also . . . weirdly hopeful? I feel like a lot of people talk about this part of the manga like Reigen’s given up and is just marching to his death, but he really isn’t. Yes, he was willing to take on the curse to save Tome, and he’s well aware that he might die, but he’s still trying to get out of it with everything he’s got. He doesn’t have powers, but he’s really clever! He goes into a place with a time distortion effect in the hope that it will buy him more time! He manipulates the curse into turning around so that it gets attacked by the Mimic spirit but he doesn’t! If it had been a more even match between them like he’d hoped, he might have been able to get out of the woods even without Mob coming to save him.

He’s aware of the danger and how much the odds are stacked against him, but he hasn’t given up! And the bug spray feels indicative of this. He thinks he might succeed in getting rid of the curse. He thinks he might need to get out of the woods on his own. And if that happens, he’s going to be so happy about not getting covered in bug bites this time.