#he's sitting on gold

[cgerice]

Clark just has to check really quick...make sure this isn't a hoax.... absolutely no other reason at all.....

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[swampybogg]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 224

DCxDP

Now Booster Gold would like it known he is Not father material, or even responsible adult material. That is Ted, and even then they seem to share a single braincell when they're in each others presence.

But again, NOT anything close to father material. Which he repeats to both himself and the eldritch Time Entity who just handed him what he Knows to be pretty much an unborn child of its species. look, he Knows about Realms Beings- Espranto was literally his first language like many others of his timeline- so he knows the inherent dangers.

But Somehow him becoming a time-cop of sorts has endeared him towards this primordial one, thankfully. Less thankfully, it has given him a whole-ass CHILD. A BABY. HIM. Of all people!

Ted he needs help, he doesn't know if this counts as mpreg or something and he's freaking out man!

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[ricebutts]

Movie night! Endeavor: has seen some fucked up crime

Also Endeavor: hates cheesy gore

[ineffectualbookseller]

The way Azirphale is underestimated and practically infantalized by heaven is so closely tied to his femininity and I think we should talk about it more because I just want to shout about how relatable the way he's treated in his workplace is as a woman working in a traditionally male field

It's in all the little niggling comments from your boss about personal things that hold no bearing on your work

and the assumption that what you're doing must be simple if it was assigned to you

your work is trivialized

and you get these the placating smiles when you're told plans and proposals are rejected and passed over

or when your complaints are dismissed

and you get more of the same from upper management

it all feels so frustrating and draining but you're at work so all you can do is take a breathe put on that mask and move on with your day

It is all so deteimental to your emotional well being and textually, so much of this is tied to Aziraphale's softness, his gayness - his femininity

The thing about working in an environment and gives you this feeling - of being simultaneously destrought watching your belief in yourself get chipped away but also just so irate becuase you know you don't deserve it - is how it builds. It sinks under your skin and feeds into this indignant dejection until you can have a moment of release - but Azirphale doesn't get to bitch about it over drinks with friends, he doesn't get a lunch break where he can go for a walk and listen to an angry scandi death metal playlist, he doesn't even get the chance to cry about it in the bathroom for 5 minutes before confronting it again

(And I talked a little bit about it in the tags of this beautiful photoset but this all comes into play whenever Crowley dismisses his plans or calls him an idiot. These are purely emotional reactions; I really don't think Crowley means much by it - he respects Aziraphale's opinion and genuinely thinks he's brilliant - but Crowley is so quick to use this terminology when Aziraphale is making a decision Crowley thinks is wrong and he doesn't know how much this hurts Aziraphale. Just like Aziraphale doesn't understand the true impact the Fall had on Crowley, Crowley doesn't understand the ways heaven has been tearing away at Aziraphale's self worth)

Aziraphale has been facing this constant drip of denigration since before the beginning of time and has never released the pressure valve. At this point, he's a bomb waiting to go off

[arthursfuckinghat]

I fail to see how that was my fault actually

[magnoliasforyourmedic]

Several nights later, I was lying in my bunk and broke out into a deep sweat, followed by chills. Back and forth. Finally, our medic, Eugene Roe, came and took my temperature.

"We're gettin' you the hell out of here, Malark."

"No, no, no. I'll be OK."

Nobody in Easy had spent more consecutive days in combat than me. I didn't want the streak to end because I had a piddly case of the flu.

"I'm getting Speirs," Roe said.

"Roe, I’m—"

"Shut up, Malark. You're sick."

He got Captain Speirs, who did a quick assessment and ordered me to a hospital. "We're pulling out in the morning, Malark. You're not fit to come. Get well and rejoin us for the victory celebration in Hitler's place in the mountains." An ambulance took me to a field hospital, where I hazily recall several doctors standing over me, bright lights in my face, and hearing talk about some strain of Rhine River malaria.

— Excerpt from Don Malarkey in his book, Easy Company Soldier: the Legendary Battles of a Sergeant from World War II's "Band of Brothers"

[lostreverb]

GOLDEN GLOBE, EMMY AWARD AND NOW VMA WINNING ACTOR EVAN PETERS ???? WE LOVE A MULTI-TALENTED KING!!!

[quinn-pop]

woah semi future au magolor and sailor designs???

(slightly more in the future but still the same timeline???)

uh yeah. Magolor finally forms a bond with the lor and becomes its captain for realsies this time

he spends his time exploring and studying magic/dark matter/gem apples and if their power can be safely harnessed

he also just goes on side quests a lot. he may be reformed but he will still do a lot for a quick buck lol

he’s mastered his dimensional magic as well, which is why his cape looks like that :>

on the other hand, sailor is the new captain of the halberd and leader of the meta-knights. most of their job is taking down monsters but there is the occasional rogue wizard to stop from destroying the world or unleashing dark matter (huh, sounds familiar…)

they are usually very busy with work but make an effort to visit dreamland frequently in order to stay close to everyone. she’s always been a little distant from the rest of her family but i think she opens up a bit more after she, Bandee, and Kirby all start taking leadership positions. gives them something to bond over

by this point meta has retired from fighting completely but he’ll still give sailor advice when they need it. she appreciates having someone around who knows just how tiring a job it can be, and he’s very proud of her

oh, and one more thing

yea i let them get married. what are you gonna do about it? /silly

they don’t get to see each other much because of their jobs but they’re a thing

[a-crawling-chaos]

malevolent movie poster made from spliced together anatomy diagrams :)

original images under cut!

[the-technorats]

shoey mike

[stackthedeck]

it's an actual crime that Michelle and Ted Kord never interacted in canon

[mjj-nostalgia]

pls why does this photo of MJ look like a meme LOL

It reminds me of this one LMAOOOO 😂

-T

[sysig]

what if you drew the cutest little mettaton. possibly shitty despot king mettaton looking sooo cute on his throne. or adorable shy ghostie mettaton. or literally any mettaton. what then.

Day 9 - Teeny Tiny Tyrant

[hrokkall]

Broken crown