#musings;Ashe

[the-incredible-auraa]

SHIDOUNATION WAKE UP ITS OUR TIME TO THRIVE

OCTOBER 5TH TODAY IS THE DAY

WE WILL WAIT NO LONGER

THIS IS A CELEBRATION! THE DAWN OF A NEW RENAISSANCE, THE SCALES OF POWER WILL SHIFT ONCE AGAIN. SHIDOUNATION, MY PEOPLE WILL THRIVE ONCE MORE AS THE U-20 ARC IS GIVEN TO US FROM THE HEAVENS AS A REWARD.

THE GOLDEN AGE IS UPON US. THE GATES WILL OPEN AND WE WILL FINALLY HAVE A SEAT AT THE TABLE AMONG THE GREATS IN BLUE LOCK HEAVEN

[shortnotsweet]

In a Week by Hozier ft. Karen Cowley

“The raven is death, obviously. When I die, I want a good tombstone—something right spooky. LT’s got something against the underground, though you’d think that would be just his kind of place. That’s alright. He needs to, he can cremate me. It’s not exactly Catholic, and Mam would turn in her grave, but God is a unicorn and no one is pure anymore, so. What’s all that got to do with me?”

Johnny “Soap” McTavish has a journal. Had. It is his no longer.

Simon “Ghost” Riley had dreams—awful ones, the kind that sank claws into his lungs, dragged him into sleep, and then sent him careening out of it. He still has dreams, but they’re different, now. Better. Johnny’s pages have folded themselves under his eyes and gotten into his head, brighter and more infectious than anything else has ever been. It’s more than the past, that rotting carcass behind him, and more than now. Now is nothing. Now is ash. It’s like, it’s like—blinding, is what it is. He’s a blind man.

It is biblical now. Ghost has read it backward and forward and sideways and inside out. When he runs out of things to read, he reads them again, and when that is not enough, he reads between the lines.

[elv1raes]

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[looking-for-lost-stars]

Ash received a message from the planet the Milan was berthed over. "Lord Finley, this is lord Zarath, I'd like to make use of your services." The voice was slightly sneering, exactly what you would expect of a noble on an important planet such as this.

- Noctine for Ash

Ash sighed the tone alone made him want to say no. This was exactly why he didn't usually stop by his more well off planets. He set a reply a few moments later. "What service exactly?"

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

HELLO?? WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS?!!

[silverhallow]

I’m currently re listening to the bridgerton books and I’ve had a bit of an idea for a story in the book era with some of the show in it… and I’m wondering if people would be interested in it…

Sophie is still the Earl’s ward and though he died still when Sophie was 14, his sister takes her in as there is no step mother…

It’s 1813 so takes place during The Duke and I, Sophie is 19 and making her debut whilst it’s Daphne’s third (as per the book)

And just benophie falling in love whilst all the drama of Daphne and Anthony being a hot head and the duel and what not with their own drama along the way…

Would people read it?

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

The temptation to join in those fake rp blogs but as Steph grows more and more everyday.

Edit: I made it.

[intertexts]

ummm perhaps a 4e with muse or 3c with ashe ^-^

hugely ashecoded fit.....

[ghostiezone]

"....Ashe?"

"Who's that?"

short-ish fic under the cut because I had to be in the tranches about this :)

The Wards received the invitation only an hour before they arrived.

i know where to find your friend :)

The crumpled piece of paper looked like it had been drawn in crayon. It was stapled to the front door of their home. Their civilian home.

"Aux-" Failsafe started immediately, but Imprint's hand over his mouth cut off the name before he could finish. The boy wasn't in costume.

Imprint addressed him instead, cautious. "Ashe...?" He lowered his gloved hand from Failsafe's face and stepped forward between his two teammates, slowly, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

Wraith had been a stoic, silent presence since they entered the room, but Failsafe could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

The boy sitting on the edge of the desk looked.... young. Younger than he should. The shirt he had been put in was too big for him. Not in the same way his dad's jacket was too big for him- he used that like a turtle shell, something to retreat into, pull over himself like a shield. It was safe, warm, all-encompassing. Despite the issues they knew Ashe and his father had with each other, the love was still there. No, these clothes... they hung loose on his already skinny frame, making him look exposed. Vulnerable. They were monochrome, pale in a way that made him look washed-out, almost ghostly. He sat with his legs crossed, hands holding his ankles. He wasn't wearing shoes. One of the sleeves threatened to slip off his shoulder.

He tilted his head as they entered the room. The movement made Failsafe think of the stray puppies he used to feed in the alley behind their house.

His hair had been washed recently.

Something was very wrong here.

Ashe's face was devoid of all emotion. Though he was looking at the three of them, making eye contact, something seemed... distant. Failsafe reached out with his power and found... nothing.

He felt his heart seize in his chest. He frantically grabbed Imprint's hand before he could take another step forward, and tore his gaze away from Ashe to lock eyes with Wraith He hissed under his breath, he didn't trust his voice not to shake "guys, hes-"

"Breaker state, yeah. I know." Wraith finally broke his silence, voice stony and cold. "Don't get any closer to him."

At the sound of Wraith's voice, Ashe's eyes locked onto him. They were burning with an orange glow.

His head bent further to one side, and his face split into a wide grin that looked almost painful. Failsafe felt Imprint tense, fingers twitching like he was getting ready to reach for a weapon. He squeezed the wrist he was already holding. "Don't. We can't. That's still Ashe."

In that brief moment of distraction, the boy on the desk began to laugh. It was a broken sound, distorted, not like anything they had heard from him before. That deep orange glow in his eyes shone even through his closed eyelids. Wraith's cape billowed as he stepped in front of the other two, barking a clipped "Incoming!" as the space behind the desk began to distort.

Wraith's own warping powers sprang up in response, a translucent blue barrier forming in the air between the wards and their friend. As they watched, unsure of how to act, a rectangular shape began to appear in the air behind where Ashe was sitting, growing clearer and sharper as it eventually formed a sort of doorway. It was hard to look at directly, the light in the room seeming to bend toward the corners. The walls and floor buldged and sank in response to the tear in reality. The door itself was more like a window- a vague, distorted cityscape slowly coming into focus on the other side. The barrier began to ripple, as if it was made of water, as a figure stepped through it into the room.

Ashe's laughing was suddenly doubled as it became clear that whoever had just entered was cackling as well. It was an eerie echo- they were taking the same pauses for breath and short hiccups between giggles. Their shoulders bounced in matching tempo and their heads tilted back toward the ceiling at the exact same time.

The new figure was dressed in a long purple-grey patchwork coat, sleeves torn off and bottom hem ripped to shreds. He wore a darker purple scarf up to his chin, which flared out behind him into a tattered cape. The coat was sinched at the waist with a faded green belt, the end of which swung loose around his legs to give the appearance of a long tail. He wore some sort of blood-red bodysuit which concealed every bit of skin that would otherwise be showing. His darkened silver hair flared out around his head in wild spikes. Over his face, a circular mask concealed any distinguishing features. The mask may have been white once, but was now more of a tarnished brown. Two horns curled upward on either side of the face, which consisted of a cudely painted-on cartoonish black smile with squinted eyes.

"Why, if it isn't the Wards of New Haven!" The figure exclaimed, suddenly dropping into a deep bow. "You can call me the Trickster. Oh, I've been waiting so long to meet you!" There was a sort of childlike excitement in his voice, but there was a strain to it as well, as if holding back the laughter was causing him mental pain.

He turned his head toward Ashe, who was sitting motionless again on the desk. The figure cleared his throat, then in a harsh voice, snapped "You'd best show some respect in the face of such powerful heroes!"

As if dragged down by force, Ashe bent forward, nearly losing his balance and falling face first off of his perch. When he sat back again, his deadpan expression broke into a wide grin again. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

"What are you doing to him?!" Failsafe snapped, voice cracking with the panic of seeing his friend so vulnerable.

"Who, me?" The villain straightened back up, bouncing on his toes as he did. He flung a hand up to his chest in an overdramatic show of offense... and Ashe's hand made the same motion. In a cheap imitation of Ashe's voice, the Trickster echoed "I wouldn't hurt a fly!" As he did, Ashe muttered the same words.

"He's some sort of Master." Imprint's eyes were locked onto the figure, tracing his every move. The subtle shift in his posture put the image of a panther in Failsafe's mind. His next words were directed at the villain. "What do you want with Ashe?"

"Better yet, what do you want with us?" Wraith added. The strain of holding up a constant shield for this long was starting to take its toll on him, hands starting to shake. Even though the Trickster wasn't outright attacking them, knowing he was a Master with this kind of power was enough to keep them all on edge. They didnt know his limitations yet. "You were the one that sent us the note, right? Why bring us here just to stand there and laugh at us?"

The villain started cackling again, bending at the waist with the sheer force of his laughter. "Ashe?!" He straightened back up, mimed wiping a tear from the corner of the eye of the mask. "Who's that? Never heard of them!" As he stood up to his full height, he ran a hand gingerly through Ashe's hair. The boy didn't move, didn't react, despite Failsafe's immediate short burst of anger at the action. The Trickster clicked his tongue, continued to run his hands through Ashe's silvery-purple hair. As his hands moved, a glow began to spread from them. The same orange glow emanating from Ashe's eyes was surrounding the Trickster's fingertips. As he waggled the fingers on his free hand, little orange strings no thicker than spider silk extended upwards from them, seeming to disappear into thin air. The strings reappeared, wound around Ashe's arms. There was a loop around his neck as well, giving the sickening illusion of a collar.

"I just wanted to introduce the three of you to my Muse." He put an odd emphasis on that final word.

It was a name.

"And, to let you know he's mine now, and you can't have him back!" The static smile on the mask somehow looked devilish. It was such a childish statement, as if they were fighting over a toy on the playground, but it sent chills down all three of the heroes' spines. "Finders keepers, he came to me first! That means I get dibs." His voice dropped an octave on that last sentence, suddenly becoming threatening and deadpan. "Try to take him from me if you can. It'll be fun."

Suddenly, he spun on his heel, facing the doorway he came from. The rippling effect was starting to get more pronounced, more unpredictable. "Ah! But it seems like playtime's over for now. We'll see you soon, Wards."

Before he stepped back through the door, the strings around Ashe's limbs tightened, and he was dragged by some nearly-invisible force toward the doorway. He moved stiffly, as if the puppetmaster hadn't gotten used to moving him yet, but eventually he was pulled through the fading doorway.

The Trickster gave them one last mock solute before ducking through as well. The lingering echo of laughter hung in the room around them.

And Ashe- Muse- was gone with him.

[werewolfbarista]

well ive been assigned catgirl by one of my coworkers who pspsps'd at me to get my attention. much to think about

[ethereal-themes]

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[kep1-er]

[nhws]

important stuff from yesterday <3

[gvnner]

“ you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together. ”

Lena sat in her office, the late afternoon sun spilling in through the windows. The day had been filled with meetings, numbers, and decisions that left her feeling drained. Her fingers drummed absently on the smooth surface of the desk, her mind wandering. The door creaked open, but Lena didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air seemed to change whenever Kara entered a room, a subtle shift that Lena had come to recognize.

Kara stepped inside, her blue eyes soft. Lena's heart tightened at the sight. She tried to muster a smile, but it faltered. Before Lena could say anything, Kara crossed the room with quiet determination, her gaze never leaving Lena's face. She settled into the chair opposite Lena, her expression steady.

For a moment, they sat in silence, unspoken words hanging between them. Lena felt the pressure of Kara's presence as a warm, reassuring weight. It was comforting, but also disarming. Kara had a knack for making Lena feel raw in a way that was alien to her. She had spent her whole life building walls around herself, and Kara seemed to slip through them effortlessly.

Lena couldn't take the silence any longer. "I don't know if I can do this, Kara," her voice was barely above a whisper. "All of this—my family, the expectations, the constant need to prove I'm different. It's... exhausting."

Kara leaned forward, her hands clasped on her lap. Lena noticed a brief flicker of something in her eyes—pain? empathy? something she couldn't place. "You don’t have to talk, we can just sit together."

The simplicity of the offer caught Lena off guard. She had expected platitudes, reassurances, or perhaps even an attempt to delve into her feelings. But this... this was different. Kara's words weren't about fixing things; they were about being present. She offered nothing but silent support. Without demanding anything in return.

Lena felt a lump rise in her throat. She looked away, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside, and the gentle rhythm of their breathing. Lena let out a slow, shaky breath and nodded. It was more to herself than to Kara.

She felt a tentative warmth as Kara reached across the desk, her hand hovering just above Lena's. With a small, hesitant movement, Lena placed her hand over Kara's. The contact was electric, grounding Lena. All the noise in her head quieted, leaving only the steady beat of her heart and the reassuring presence of her friend. Her.... Something more.

They sat there, hands intertwined, the world outside slipping away. Sometimes, it was enough to just be. It was enough to share a space with someone who understood. She glanced up at Kara, who gave her a small, encouraging smile. Lena felt a flicker of something new and tender, a feeling she wasn't ready to name. If she were to name it, she would have to embrace it.

[mossbirdreigns]

the way vander's nickname at the start of the series is "the hound of the underground" and then season two happens im going fucking insane

[seecarrun]

Okay. If we were to get extremely silly, this popped into my head while I was showering the other day:

In which generation do you guys put Ash and friends?

Cause like OG trio are obviously millennials, right? I can’t imagine them anything but millennials. Plus isn’t there that thing out there that puts him born in like, ‘87?

But Ash does a vibe shift over the years. Is journeys Ash still a millennial? Is he Gen Alpha? When was he Gen Z?? When were the shifts??

What about team rocket? OG TR give big Gen X to me, but maybe that’s because I’m a millennial lol

What are our thoughts, chat??