#but she doesn't care

[pippindot]

We have roofers here today and our sounds like the sky is falling but thank goodness for lazy dogs who don't care

[softquietsteadylove]

More from the Maleficent one please?

Druig stretched out his wings to cushion his landing. It was familiar, landing among the crags of a cliff side lush with vegetation. He had gotten quite used to the treetop nests woven from branches and leaves.

Thena's nest had been picked out painstakingly. She chose a spot high up, fairly away from most other fae. The quartz in the rock face had ripples that would let an acceptable amount of light into the chamber, while also not requiring her to hide away from the sun. She had already begun the task of arranging glowing moss and flowers along the walls.

Druig set down the fruit he had went out to fetch specifically for his sister. He had been feeling negligent, as of late, spending all his time with Makkari, the mate of his dreams. Thena liked Makkari, of course, and they spent time together around the group fires and all. But he felt he was missing something.

Thena was smiling all the time, her wings were fluttering constantly, like a fledgling eager to take off with every breeze. He had even caught her humming to herself as she collected berries the other day.

"Here," he murmured, tossing a mango gently in her direction. She caught it, but she was preoccupied with her task of arranging some white moon lilies along her walls. He cleared his throat before taking a bite for himself, "looks good in 'ere."

Finally Thena turned around, also admiring her hard work to make the cliffside inlet a home. It was looking like a real nest of an Isle fae. "I believe so."

Druig kept his eyes on her as she took a delicate bite of the mango's ripe red skin. He still couldn't place what seemed different about her, but he was determined to uncover it. "So, how'd you find this spot?"

Thena sat herself on the edge of her bed--her nest within her nest. It was a plush pile of mosses and leaves, enough to soften around her body and keep her from the stone floor of the place. She had even fashioned a pillow out of several bromilliads. "I had help."

That was all his sister had to say on the matter, but Druig knew more than she thought he did. As if he would miss the border patrol fae who had been lingering around her since they arrived. He had been a guide and a guardian for them, sure. But Druig could see more.

He could see the way Thena smiled around him, or how he fed her fruits while the rest of the flock was partaking in roast fish and molluscs. He could see them flying off at dawn, wings pitch white and pitch black respectively.

It didn't surprise him that the fae named Gilgamesh had helped her find the perfect spot. He was a strong flyer, with long wings, probably used the updrafts from the springs below to scour the whole cliff for the perfect spot.

"Hm?" Thena looked at him, prompting him to speak his mind. The two of them didn't always need the exchange of words, but she was asking him specifically.

Druig slurped at the pit of his mango loudly. Thena glared at him and he threw his head back in a laugh. "So, where is he, 'en?"

She tilted her head.

Druig raised his eyebrows, "your prospective mate?"

Thena thought herself so hard to read, and maybe to a stranger that was true. But Druig could see clear through his sister. He saw the twitch of her eyes and the angle of her head and the way her wings rustled behind her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Sure y'do," he murmured, finishing off his mango pit and tossing it down in a pile of leaves he would take with him. "He seems nice enough. Friendly guy, good flyer, I'm sure he'd fight for ye if he had to-"

"Druig, no one is fighting anyone," she said with such a tone it hissed from between her fangs. "I have no such...prospects."

Druig looked up at the ceiling of the cavernous nest. It was spacious--loverboy had found her a really good spot. He looked at the veins running through the white quarts, at the flowers Thena had hung and at the wisteria hanging over her nest like snowfall. "Gilgamesh."

All he had to do was utter his name and Thena's shoulders raised, her wings trembling on her back. She set aside the remaining half of her mango to glare at him.

But he was no longer a fledgling testing out his boundaries. She couldn't scare him out of this one (even with that tone). "Feels as if I never see you two apart, nowadays."

"I'm sure you're mistaken about that."

Druig grinned, though. He kind of liked rising to his sister's challenge. He liked riling Ikaris too, but with him it devolved so quickly. Thena was more of a match of wits. "So I don't see you sittin' 'round the gathering fire, just waitin' for him?"

Thena didn't even rise to that bait. Not enough.

"I don't," Druig shrugged, adjusting his own pitch black wings on his back, smaller and lighter than hers, "see you two whispering all the time?"

She rolled her eyes. He was getting to her.

Druig raised a brow; this, he genuinely wanted to know about. "I didn't see him with his arm 'round your back one night after you went down to the springs?"

Thena's back straightened.

"T," Druig made a solemn plea. He didn't like having to talk about this kind of thing. Thena was his sister, as well as the only mother he had any memory of. "You can handle yourself, I know. But...if this seagull is takin' liberties-"

"Druig," she cut him off again, with an even more firm tone than before. She was as good as screaming at him, as far as he was concerned. "Enough."

That was still enough to make him feel like his horns were coiling even tighter against the sides of his head.

"Gilgamesh is not guilty of anything untoward," she stood from her bed to chastise him properly. "And even asking if he has proves that you do not know him."

Druig avoided looking directly in her eyes. They were still wing and wing for who was taller than whom, but he deliberately drew up his posture and made his shoulders wider than hers. "Then maybe I should get to know him."

It was a reasonable argument, but Thena wavered. She kept her expression the same, but something about it made her falter. "No."

"Why not?" he prodded. If some strong arm fae was gonna try his hand at courting his sister he had a right to know! Ikaris would feel the same, but when he pieced together the puzzle was up to the spirits and the skies themselves.

"Drop it," she growled at him, returning to her decorating to busy her hands.

Druig leaned to look past her, tilting his head. "Oi."

She ignored him.

"Oi," he repeated more firmly, walking closer to her bed. She turned, splaying out her wing to keep him away. He pointed from a distance, "wassat?"

She raised her brow at his lack of diction, but she did look behind her at what had drawn his attention. Her shoulders flinched and when she turned back, her expression was completely unreadable. "What."

"That," he repeated, but she raised her wings to block even his pointing finger. He huffed, "come on."

"There is nothing to see," she repeated, but the fact that she maintained her posture of using her wings to shield his view was damming.

"T."

"If there were something there, it would be none of your concern."

Druig's eyebrows raised so high he felt his hair rustle against his horns. His sister was well and truly ruffled over whatever this was. He pulled his wings back.

"Don't you dare," she glowered.

He let loose one strong wing beat. It displaced most of the newer and less secured fixtures of the nest. He would grovel for forgiveness and help put them all back later. But his eyes caught the sight of a pitch black - actually, there was a warm brown undertone to it - feather catching the air just for a second.

Thena snatched it close to her chest and pointed, "out!"

Druig was stunned. He'd had an inkling of what was happening between his sister and the guardian fae. Maybe he could have imagined they were courting in secret, had exchanged a trinket or two. But...but a feather?!

"Out!" Thena repeated, clutching the feather against her heart and urging him out of her nest as if they were still budding fae learning to control themselves.

"No way," Druig shook his head. He would cower in fear of his terrifying sister later. He stepped closer. "His feather is in your nest?"

Thena attempted not to dignify his question with a response, but he was horrified to see colour rise in her ghostly pale cheeks.

It was particularly condemning evidence. It was where she was to lay her head! This was beyond sneaking a kiss or a hand or even light preening.

Druig felt his blood run cold, "has he declared himself?"

He wasn't an old fae of old tradition, but he had some decency. And to his further horror, Thena's shoulders curled somewhat inward, "it's not-"

"I'll kill 'im," Druig snarled, turning and nearly able to take off until he felt his sister's hand bunch up the back of his tunic. "Oi!"

"Druig," Thena pleaded more quietly. That was also as good as screaming at him. She pulled him back into the nest, still holding the feather. "Neither of us has...nothing has happened."

He didn't want to think about what 'nothing' could mean. But he stared at his sister, unusually sheepish as her wings unfurled slightly. "This isn't just some matter of you two tradin' a li'l lip, T. You have his feather in your bleedin' nest and where's he?--has he got your feather on 'im?!"

She looked away, and Druig felt that same feeling bubble up in his throat. He had no business concerning himself with his sister's mating desires. She was her own fae. But the thought of some stud flying around knowing he had an open invitation to his sister's nest and couldn't even pay the same courtesy of displaying that he was unavailable-

"Druig," Thena repeated, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled, patting his shoulder, and then roughly plucking out a downy feather, "stop."

He sighed. She would just pull out more if he didn't. He relaxed his wings on his back and lowered his shoulders. "When did this happen, eh?"

Thena looked away again, cradling that feather so bloody lovingly. "I couldn't say when exactly. Perhaps we simply...found our way to understanding one another."

That felt so much worse to hear. It sounded like a lame 'magic makes eggs and that's how baby fae are made' explanation. Druig gritted his teeth and scratched the hair between his horns in the back. "Are you, y'know...?"

Thena looked at him blankly. Bloody woman! Druig looked away from the woman who raised him, warmth rising throughout his face. "If he's ever hurt you-"

"Nothing of the sort."

At least he didn't have to bash his head through the wall of her nest just yet. Druig rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. "Does Ikaris know?"

"Do you think he does?"

Right, a foolhardy question. Ikaris wouldn't know until the day Thena landed with Gilgamesh in front of them, hand in hand, actively preening his wings.

Druig tilted his head again. He could ask questions until he was blue in the face, but Thena wouldn't give up any truly personal details. And he didn't truly want to know them. "Are you happy?"

She smiled at him, like she did when he was a hatchling first learning to ride air currents, or climb in height without them. She nodded.

"Right, good 'nough," he muttered, saying all he desired on the matter. He was quite ready to dispose of their snacks and take his leave. He turned back to her, pointing again. "But I mean it, if he ever-"

"Hey Thena, I-oh!"

Thena beamed at the arrival of the man of the hour. Druig stepped aside, completely devoid of the desire to get in between the lovebirds. He watched her nearly lean in to embrace him but stop herself. Likewise, he could see Gilgamesh's hand float upwards but avoid settling on her back between her wings. At least they had some decency.

"Sorry to interrupt," Gilgamesh said gently. He had a soft voice, for such an intimidating fighter. "I just got back--Makkari's looking for you, actually."

Druig resisted the urge to fly off right that very second. He eyed Gilgamesh cautiously, "s'all right, I was just, uh, givin' T a hand."

Gilgamesh looked around the nest, openly admiring the progress made. "It looks beautiful in here!"

Thena looked so delighted that Druig wished he could fake throwing up (not that she wouldn't throw him from the cliff for it).

"Did you eat?" Druig heard her ask him quietly.

He shook his head.

She nodded, her wings subconsciously rising on her back. Druig could remember a time when she dreaded meal gatherings because of how bitter the fish were here. She looked at him, "after you."

He huffed. She was making sure he didn't have time to linger behind her and give Gilgamesh a piece of his mind. "Aye."

Druig walked past them both, ready to fly ahead of both of them. But the evening sun hit the rock face just so, and he got a glimpse of something sparkling.

Delicate and stark white, folded between the layers of his robes, sat a pristine white feather. Gilgamesh caught him looking and tugged at the top layer of his tunic, concealing the feather once again. He looked nervous.

They both knew Druig had seen, there was no concealing that. But Druig just nodded to him before dropping off the cliff and opening his wings. He would ask him about it later. Or he would ask Thena about it when she was in more of a sharing mood. Or he would tell Ikaris and their middle brother would do all the work of threatening to drown Gilgamesh for meddling in their sister's life.

Or...he could keep it to himself. He drifted quietly, glancing up as two much larger winged flyers passed above him. Gilgamesh flew at Thena's pace, the two of them bending and swerving around one another's air currents, as if dancing. Druig faked gagging on something at the sweetness of it.

[life-of-kalos]

⏩️ for Zeke??

She stood before him. Though small in stature, her rage loomed over him like a mountain. There was no reason to wonder why she felt this way, he had done much wrong for his own benefit. He knew that, and at some point, he became numb to it.

"You don't understand, if I don't do this, It will all be over for me-"

"Then die."

A simple sentence. Her words like ice. She was right, all he had to do was give up and let the hunger empty him. To return to the earth and no longer feel this pain. But he had worked too hard to stay alive. Fought every battle and did unforgettable things, all for his own life. He couldn't turn back now.

"I won't."

[ladamedemartel]

one thing that I think is interesting about Aurora: given what Elijah did, the horrors that she knows compulsion can be, you would think she would shy away from using compulsion, and yet she uses it very frequently

[greypetrel]

WIP WedThursday

Tagged by @daggerbean (thank you!).

I don't have much to show, it's been... the weekend. Very happy and somewhat not, but still it left me little time to draw or do much.

I did write tho! I just posted a new chapter of the Monster fic, and turned to Dark Lady shenanigans. Cullen is doubting his own shadow and Fluffwing is a very good girl (some Hobbits and one Gollum may disagree.)

Under the cut because with no one's surprise, it's long.

Tagging: @ndostairlyrium @rowanisawriter @demandthedoodles @melisusthewee @whimsyswastry @idolsgf (and whomever wants it!)

Cullen stepped forward and in the clear, looking around and finding absolutely no one there. The air was charged, smelling of ozone as a thunderstorm would be just about to start. Looking up, dark clouds loomed above, more forward than the usual. He stopped in the middle of the crossroad, hand on his hilt and looking around, nervously.

Rylen, usually tasked with this particular correspondence, spoke of a weird, creepy elf awfully good with her arrows, who stole two bows from him -somehow- and kept a dragon close by, referred to as “Bumblebee”. She liked to play with him, obviously, but Rylen never spoke of creepying him out like that.

And indeed, there was no archer that greeted him.

He heard the soft flap of wings, saw the shadow passing over and was enough to turn towards the valley, fighting every urge to unsheathe his sword as every hair on his neck rose.

The dragon landed with a loud thud that made the terrain tremble, not so much in front of him as to make him fall or feel crowded, but still imponent enough to cause fear.

It was worm-like, his head squarish, nostrils flaring as its horrid, wide mouth opened on three rows of sharp teeth. Its eyes were yellow and fixed upon him, with a low rumble coming from the throat. Long throat curving down to the ground to raise back to a bulkier section, where its wings first and paws later attached, before a long tail twisted and coiled in the air.

And sitting on the top of its back, was her. In person.

The very same person he spoke and befriended, and at the same time she wasn’t.

The clothes were the same in cut and materials, a jacket of dark scales reflecting light in blueish greens, greens and purples, some yellows where the light hit the strongest. Pointed shoulders, and her light ivory prostethic on the left. A long gown that split in the front, revealing trousers more fitted for riding. Soft leather boots that opened up on the feet, leaving her toes and heels free. She was dressed simply, but with the grace fit of a noble Lady. It had been so evident since the first day he met her, and still he realized just now.

She -Sauron, Maira, Aisling- slipped gracefully from the saddle, swinging a leg behind and over the dragon’s back and letting herself slide down its side, landing gracefully on her feet. She never stopped looking at him, and didn’t stop as she slowly stepped towards him, still standing there speechless.

“Lieutenant.”

She greeted him, stopping at a reasonable distance, hands elegantly clasped together in front of her, something colder in her eyes. He didn’t reply, and she left him time to find words. The way she had done many, many times, in another wildly different context.

“I saw you arrive and I thought to come and greet you personally.” She explained, as collected as before, not faltering, after a while. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I- Ah.” He cleared his throat, getting a hold of himself and straightening his back. “I have something for you.”

He didn’t miss the way her eyebrows contracted for just a moment, in an expression of disappointment that lasted very, very briefly.

“I suppose you do.” She just replied, dryly.

Cullen lost no time, fishing the envelope and offered it to her, keeping it between them until her hand closed on it. It was thicker, and contained the act Faramir had proposed her in his last letter, for real. Alongside more details and propositions for her. Cullen could say something, as she stood there and absent-mindedly opened the envelope, slipping the papers out and shuffling, observing the content and counting pages. Cullen could say something to try and appease her, convince her, but… But he wasn’t convinced of this strategy, and he knew she would have seen it. She told him many times that he was easy to read, and that it was a good thing. He hated that it was a good thing for the wrong people and the wrong reasons.

“He really compiled the act, uh.” She snorted a laugh, eyes widening in seeing that he really did.

“I- Ah, of course. He’s a man of his word.” There. He could praise Faramir. He had praises for him, after all.

“Even when his word is bigger than his mouth?” She asked, not really a question, still focused on the papers that she had unfolded and was keeping in front of her.

“He is. He means it, even if-”

That made her snap up, looking at him directly, eyes squinting. A thunder boomed above.

“Even if…?” She asked, on the defensive.

“… Even if… It’s you, and you were right.”

“Was I.”

“You won’t be welcomed in Minas Tirith.”

She stood there, looking at him, her eyebrows contracting again, but still not looking down and sustaining his eyes.

“You’re asking me to step in a war I don’t want just to meet hostility.” She punctuated, smiling bitterly. “One should really wonder who are you working for, you know, sabotaging your Captain’s plans like so.”

“The war is upon you, whether you want it or not. You closed the Black Gates after longer than we tracked. You know it too.”

“Or maybe I’m secretly collaborating with your enemies to be left alone in a kingdom that is mine because nobody else wanted it.”

“That’s what we all fear. And what will not make you welcome.”

“It looks like we’re at an empasse.” She says, smiling. For a moment, it was back to months before, when she had been just Aisling and her eyes had been warm and soft. That was the same smile on her face now, her eyes lost some of the steel.

He swallowed, not knowing where to go from there. The plan was that he should distract the messenger enough for the Hobbits to walk in the Valley and disappear, follow the stairs that the creepy guide of theirs indicated -Cullen had the pleasure of seeing it just once, when they started their way there, and it was frankly enough for a lifetime. They needed time, as much as he could grant them. It wasn’t in the plans that she would have shown up, and he had to improvise and keep on. Just a little more.

“No. Because Gondor will not risk another war against Mordor, if Isengard will be stopped. You will be there with your army and your dragons. You’ll be able to retreat.” He goes on, following a line of thought  that she could find in the letter, that he worked on with Faramir. Maybe said aloud it would be more convincing. “It will leave us in a weak position, and depending on the honesty of your intentions.”

She smiled, sharply, her eyes not going back to be harsh. She stepped forward, just half a step, bringing herself to the usual distance they always kept before. As if nothing had happened.

“That’s a more informed proposal. Was it your idea?”

“I’m not as clever as-”

“You are, you just don’t give yourself credit for it. Take it as a proof that you came here, you came back.”

“I just delivered an important letter, that’s all. If I knew you were here-”

“You were in no obligation. None of the letters were lost, his or mine. Why did you came?”

He hesitated. He came because he had to escort the hobbits, and prove a distraction, sure. But seeing her in front of him, as close as she’d been when she was just a weird elven lady to him, eyes bright with hope and the very, same expression, made him stop his words. He blamed her for lying, could he do the same?

“It was my duty.” He told her, in the end, swallowing and taking one step back.

She didn’t relent, letting him keep more distance, but not change the topic.

“I know… I have not been sincere with you about my identity. You would have tried to fight me and… I know it must sound wild, but I-” She stopped from rambling, her voice raising and words quickening. She realized and stopped, sighing heavily and raising a hand at him, to signal to please, just wait.

Cullen eyed the dragon behind her, placid and sitting down on his legs, big wings neatly folded around its silvery body, raise its head to attention, pointing at its right. Nostrils flaring out, sniffing the air. Cullen shivered, but the Lady didn’t notice, collecting words. He turned his eyes from the reptile to its owner, without saying anything, training enough to rein in whatever emotion he was feeling and put up a stoic face. After some moments, the dragon still sniffing the air and moving its head left and right, Aisling -Sauron- spoke again.

“Please, let me explain. Name a place you feel comfortable with and I’ll tell you all the truth.” She looked sincere, more vulnerable than he ever saw her, even when she fell, when she showed up too much enthusiasm for this or that plant and he laughed, more vulnerable that the one time she showed up covered in blood and he helped her with her prosthetic. He helped her with her prosthetic and his main worry had been not to hurt her accidentally. He didn’t know what to think.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“You could sound more convinced.”

“I-”

“I know what they say about me. I swear I can explain, and if you still aren’t convinced that’s fine, I will disappear and you will never see me again. But please. I enjoyed our time together. Please let me explain.”

She stepped forward, voice full of emotion, eyes sparkling in the dim light that filtered from beyond the clouds. Cullen stood still, yielding to the part of him that wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that the woman he made friends with had not just deceived him, that some of it had been true. What was he in the big scheme of things after all? No one. The son of a farmer who travelled to a foreign country to become a soldier, and climbed up with years of good service. He was in the good graces of the son of the Stewart, sure, but he wasn’t a viable pawn if she really wanted to access Gondor’s politics and play someone to turn it in her favour. Particularly not if she somehow had access to Lord Denethor himself.

Maybe Faramir was right, maybe there was a piece of the puzzle they were missing. He let her come closer, didn’t step back, let her smile at him, tentatively.

“The old clearing. Two hours after sunrise.” He whispered, in spite of himself.

She brightened up with a smile, hand raising and getting closer to his arm.

“Thank you. I promise I-”

The rest happened quickly. Cullen had glimpsed a flash of a curly head behind a rock, some metres at the side of the road. The dragon must have had too: it jumped on its paws and roared towards the Hobbits.

She noticed he was looking behind her, as if expecting-

The air grew electric again, and looking down he saw her, hurt and rage on her face, stepping back, whatever spell made her eyes green and the like of any other being that walked this earth fallen to reveal just thunder crackling between eyelids.

“Fluffwings-” She bid, adding another harsh sounding word Cullen didn’t understand, and the dragon, still growling and with its teeth bared, stopped where it was, restless on its legs, wings still folded but moving. Eager to jump, but stopped by the order of its owner. It was beautiful to see, and terrible at the same time. The Lady snapped back and walked to the dragon -almost floated, with an otherworldly grace- and put her hand on its neck, whispering to him and following the direction the creature was looking.

The direction he saw the Hobbits go.

Cullen stepped forward, ready to jump in, should the worse happen. So much for accusing her of lying, and there he was, lying to the very Dark Lady of Mordor, who true to her word didn’t need, apparently, much subterfuge to gain the upper hand. Judging by the thunder that crackles up ahead, on clouds getting lower and closer in a way that was most definitely unnatural, it was painfully clear.

“Don’t-”

“What are you hiding, Lieutenant?”

She snapped towards him for a bried moment, face full of hurt and despise. He fought every instinct telling him to get back. Run away. No amount of potions from the White Tower could ever made him able to counter her, the magnitude of her power filling the air. Yet, he was following orders, it was his duty to stay there and do what he could.

“I am not-”

“Bullshit.” She hissed, turning her back to the side of the road and stepping in that direction, looking left and right with something akin to a frantic air about her. “I saw you coming here. I came because I saw you. There’s something here, Fluffwing can smell it. And yet I can’t-”

She stopped, eyes widening and air standing perfectly still as every word, and all the rage died on her face. She paled, staggering back as her hand came to cover her mouth. The wyvern, obedient, stopped growling and bend its neck to surrect its owner, stopping her steps back by pressing its snouth on her spine, circling it right away.

“It can’t be-” She whispered.

Time stood still, Cullen couldn’t but wait for her next move. If he unsheathed his word, he was dead. If he ran, he was dead. If he tried to parlay with her, he would have to reveal who was hiding and what they were bringing, and he was dead anyway. He didn’t know what she knew, as his only advantage. So, he stood there, bending slightly his knees, at the ready for everything. When she turned towards him, he wasn’t ready for everything, he discovered.

Because she straightened her spine and laughed, without any trace of mirth. It filled the valley and echoed through the mountains, joyless and hollow.

She turned to look at him and he knew he wouldn’t have another chance to speak with her and distract her.

“You Gondoreans. So quick in judging, so quick in meddling with magic you have no understanding of. So quick in betraying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, I think you do. You saw it, am I right? Maybe it sang to you too, talking of mighty deeds, power beyond your imaginations. I wonder what you saw. I wonder if your brave Captain know he sent a Hobbit to his death.”

[therighthandofvengeance]

Exchange student Susan Ivanova is convinced her host brother, John, has a massive crush on the law student, Miss Mir, who always comes in for tea (and the subsequent caffeine), but clearly stays for him.

[blog-of-reaction]

Luna is honestly such an icon

[vespersposts]

"How did you know I was here?" my sister waiting outside the ward to have a surprise lunch with me. "Big sister power " I tell her, acting all cool.

This sounds much better than 'horny colleagues talking about a pretty girl in the waiting room'

[possamble]

hiii everybody are you normal about Falin showing Laios the same little spell that Marcille showed her? are you normal about Falin remembering it fondly enough that it was one of the first things she showed her brother while trying to teach him magic?

[magentasnail]

ok pause from bill art time for some mystery twins art !! specifically, 12yo selves meeting their current day selves!

[lezzyart]

hear me out

[technically-human]

Bisexual crisis Crystal edition

[empire-of-the-words]

so I read son of the demon straight through today (tbh maybe not my best idea I'm still sad 😓), and came to the realization that Bruce and Talia's marriage never actually ends. like, Talia just tells Bruce to leave and Ra's last line is literally calling Bruce his son. sure, it's implied, but, also. consider:

Random lawyer or finance guy or something: Have you ever been divorced or widowed? Bruce: Y- Bruce: Bruce: Bruce: actually I think I'm still married. Dick: I'm sorry, WHAT?

[sunandmoonseisai]

Canon marcille: I want all human races to live at the same rate so that we'll all be on equal footing and noone has to be oppressed because of their race ever again. And so that I may never revive the trauma of losing my loved ones while I'm still at the dawn of my life. Even if it risk dooming the whole earth, my desire to grow old with the people I love in a world that treat them fairly is stronger than reason.

Fanon marcille: fuck everyone I just want my gf back

[dootznbootz]

Sorry, not sorry but I see this too often and it bothers me :)

Before people get mad: Notice how I put “Me and Penelope fans” there? I know there's others. this ain't about you <3

edit: This is about how people in the fandom prioritize Odysseus and Telemachus (and even Diomedes, who is not in the Odyssey) despite the Odyssey also being HER story as well. I've seen many fics about Odysseus and Telemachus in their youth, and never really seen that for Penelope.

[amerasdreams]

note to self, again--

Never, ever be lulled into thinking mom will be sympathetic.