#it removes stakes

[sarafangirlart]

Funny how Hera killed/tried to kill two of Cadmus’ daughters and both became immortal goddesses as a result. Literally accomplished the opposite of what she was aiming for lol.

Especially since Semele is a dumbass and Ino is a cartoonish evil stepmother (Phrixus and Helle). In contrast to Heracles who went through hell and back to earn immortality.

[wisteriasymphony]

every time a tumblr post mlb rewrite mentions the fact that they're taking out marinette's 'obsessive stalker' characteristics an angel gets run over by a steamroller and fucking dies

[inogart]

Vampire for Drawtober Do not remove that wooden stake or everyone's gonna have a bad time

patreon / ko-fi / cara

[redeemed-wren]

I'm hoping episode 3 let's Ruby see the dark side of the Doctor. I feel that adds a very important dynamic to a Doctor-companion relationship, when they see how dark he can be and still choose to travel with him early on.

Rose watching Nine drag Cassandra back to die. Eleven yelling at Amy "Nobody human has anything to say to me today!" Donna begging Ten to stop drowning the spider babies, and then again to go back and save someone in Pompeii.

Fifteen has been FUN and I know he can do emotional range, I've seen his fear and his tears already. But I want to see him dark, and I want to see Ruby respond to that. I think it would add a LOT of depth to their relationship and is something missing.

Plus showcasing the Doctor's flaws (selfishness) will make him a much more interesting character. I want to see some conflict between the Doctor and Ruby.

[qwainte]

So many Astarion fans will just... straight up lie or refuse to contextualize Wyll's interactions with Astarion in order to demonize him.

Say what you want about Wyll being arrogant or corny but Astarion is canonically evil (In DnD, alignments aren't a matter of opinion. Whether or not this is a good mechanic is not the point of this post so don't even bother). We don't get to see much companion/companion interaction outside of short barks, but we as players can infer that Wyll knows what type of person Astarion is.

Every time Astarion approves of the player character making a heinous decision or disapproves of a moral one, you're supposed to assume that Wyll and the other companions are right there observing. He has ample reason not to trust or like this guy, but Astaristans frame Wyll as petty and vindictive. They give so much grace to the 200+ year old vampire who can't muster up a modicum of sympathy for slaves that aren't himself, but can't give any of that to the ~24 year old monster hunter who has dedicated his life to helping those in need.

I'm not the one to usually assume someone is racist based on the sole reason of hating a black character, but the way they insist Wyll is secretly a bad person because he dislikes Astarion has me side-eyeing them so hard. It's hard not to feel this way as a black person, especially with how often black characters are held to much higher standards than white characters within fandoms.

Keep in mind, I love Astarion. He is probably one of my favorite companions in any RPG I have played, but I'm not going to pretend the way fellow fans of his talk about Wyll doesn't bother me.

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.

[thatneoncrisis]

its soo funny like it could never be gideons dick. ofc. its gotta be flesh magic.

i have many Many thoughts re gideon, being a butch of color, trans femininity (or even her being tmasc fr fr), the empires Idea of gendered roles and experiences, and whether or not her having a dick would even be a part of that but like. ultimately i understand on some level its not About that. the flesh dick tag isnt there because someone wanted to replicate transgender sex, they want gideon to have a big ass horse strap that she can feel. they want harrow to make her a dick with her gross sexy necromancy. like, level 1 fetish stuff. 0.5 frankly

[je-lurk]

how am I writing fluff. since when

[chipjrwibignaturals]

pissing shitting crying myself because im tryihng to do the mcyt classic of 'taking one video way too fucking seriously as a narrative' but am immediately thwarted by the fact its actually mario party

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

This may sound strange coming from me, ardent Chuuya analyst and fan, but I’m uh… not 100% sure how I feel about the changes to the new cannibalism stage play… I’m happy he’s getting some more main story focus but idk. Idk. However, I want to wait and see what happens with the stage play before I’m too critical, because I know how much love and effort get put into these productions - they’re always absolutely wonderful and I am excited to see the hard work of the backstage crew and cast.

[indigosabyss]

Taking all my self control to not end the Young Justice x Assorted Young Marvel Heroes crossover like:

Reech Ambassador: I have an army. Kamala: We have a Hulk. Billy, calling his emperor husband: AND A BIGGER ARMY.

[hellbraiserart]

REMOVAL FROM MY BREAST, THE KILLING OAKEN STAKE. WHEN THIS CURSE IS BROKEN AND THESE YELLOWED BONES REGENERATE AGAIN

Poured my shriveled, desiccated heart into this piece inspired by one of the greatest albums about vampires ever written

[akallabeth-joie]

Bloodbank: You're elligible to donate! Schedule an appointment today!

Me: You literally sent me home from an appointment YESTERDAY that you decided was too soon after the previous one. Even though you told me it wasn't, let me make the appointment, spent weeks sending me reminders of that appointment, and (as of today) are still showing that date as "next date you can donate" on the scheduling website.

[sn0wbat]

....

[skunkes]

OMG you like moral orel?? who is your favorite character :]c *Blinking and fluttering my eyelashes beautifully*

i watched the whole thing in a few days, ended yesterday. My faves are nurse bendy and joe (together and as a unit), stephanie (individually and then as a unit with the reverend but i dont like him individually), + danielle, of course

[bugaboooooooooo]

thinking about willow/faith parallels again