#questioning your fate

[knockknockitsnickels]

"Sacrifice the Yourself" (title pending), the hip new slay the princess swap AU, in which you and the girlies must decide if you're gonna let a giant bird stab you (and maybe.... find love?!)

[strawberry-halla]

1000+ years ago, thedas, somewhere

solas: would you love me if i was a worm?

mythal: no

solas: ok :(

1000+ years later, minrathous, archon’s palace

solas: vhenan, would you love me if i was a worm?

lavellan: yeah :D

solas: :)

veilguard ending theme

[lancabbage]

All these posts and subsequent fan art showing (incorrectly...) JC with multiple whip scars across his chest. The dude was hit once with his own clan's discipline whip. Just once. We're told as much on two separate occasions as well.

The first thing he noticed was the bloody WHIP WOUND across Jiang Cheng’s chest.

Whip wound - singular...

While Wei Wuxian had never experienced this particular lashing himself, Jiang Cheng had. Wei Wuxian had wracked his brain to help him lighten that humiliating MARK, but all efforts had been fruitless. Wei Wuxian would never mistake the sight of such a scar.

Mark... Also singular...

Not only was JC only whipped once, but he then had the audacity to complain about the lasting mark on his chest to WWX... You know, the kid his mother whipped for the most insignificant of reasons? Who had multiple scars all across his back from being hit with a high-class spiritual weapon that was like lightning? Yeah, him.

Wei Wuxian, “Uh-huh, that’s right.” He felt his back, COVERED IN SCARS BOTH OLD AND NEW, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

Literally showing and telling us WWX was physically abused on a regular basis.

I swear people just conveniently forget WWX was abused in such a way and love to make JC a martyr so that he and LWJ are "the same" by "sacrificing" so much for WWX. LWJ was whipped within an inch of his life. Thirty-three lashes of the discipline whip...and it took him three years to recover! JC mostly recovered in three days, and that was only because he was coreless! LWJ is by far stronger than JC even when they both had cores lol - there's no way JC would heal so quickly if it wasn't just one whip.

With the needle securely embedded in his head, Jiang Cheng slept for THREE DAYS. His broken bones repaired themselves and his superficial wounds smoothed over, but he was destined to never fully heal—THE LASH from the discipline whip could never be erased, and his golden core could never be recovered.

Lash - singular yet again btw...

So please, stop exaggerating his scars in an attempt to make him more "heroic" or "fragile" the dude murders people for kicks, slaps his nephew around and doesn't give a shit about an innocent toddler dying in the siege he organised ffs. Get over it lmao 🤣

[derangedthots]

so i've spoken before abt how jace might've insisted on postponing his and baela's wedding till after the dance (despite ample opportunity/mutual desire) bc his love for her wanted to give her a ceremony without death looming over it. and that his fear for her compelled him not to wed and inevitably bed her when the tragedy of three harrowing labors might take what should be a joyful time away from them and - even more than that - take his beloved baela from him.

but what if, and bear with me for a moment, what if beyond rhaenyra and laena and rhaenys - all three women robbed, in some way shape or form, of a queendom - jace's thoughts took him to another targaryen ancestor, robbed of her birthright, burdened with the loss of her husband, and left alone to defend and protect their children from usurpers? maybe i'm just spitballing but what if jace's nights during the dance were haunted by the memory of rhaena targaryen, black bride, queen of the west, queen of the east, and whose ghost yet haunts the halls of harwin's his father's home at harrenhal?

what if he sees his baela, bold and brave and so beautiful, and knows - gods willing - he'll make her his queen. what if jace sees her and wants so many things for her but not one of those things is to make a rhaena targaryen of her. rhaena who was queen of the west and queen of the east but never ruled as queen of westeros in her own right - and, in trying to spare baela of that fate, jace dies anyway.

and she becomes a bit like rhaena regardless: robbed of her love and her crown.

[gingermintpepper]

Hello! I want to know... Besides Hyacinthus, who is your fav Apollo's lover (male or female)? I really love Cyrene 🤭

Oho, thank you so much for the ask!

There are a couple candidates that immediately come to mind tbh. I'm not the sort that has a strict OTP sense when it comes to Apollo because I imagine there's importance in each of the affairs of the gods that are written about - there must be some reason that we remember their names and stories even now, y'know?

Ultimately, I have a brief selection of the lovers of Apollo whose stories I have personal and vested interest in with no particular preference except maybe for Evadne who, if I were forced to give only one additional favourite besides Hyacinthus, I would probably say it's her.

As for why I prefer Evadne over all the great and powerful romances Apollo has had; maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for the ooey-gooey romances but there's something so sweet about Evadne and Apollo's relationship and the consequent relationship Apollo has with Iamus, his and Evadne's son. I also love the subtle politics of such a relationship - from Evadne's side, yes she's a princess but more importantly, she's one of Poseidon's inhuman daughters - a child between Poseidon and a nymph - and the child between her and Apollo - a son of Zeus - goes on to become the father of a long line of famous prophets for the King of the Gods himself. That makes Iamus one of those rare children of a major god who is not divine but certainly not human either, something that is further exacerbated by the fact that for the first five days of his life, Iamus is cared for by his father who ensures that the baby is fed not milk but honey from the fangs of a snake.

All in all, it's not a very remarkable story in the grand scheme of things. There's no big drama like with Admetus and there's no great tragedy like with Coronis or Melia. Apollo doesn't act particularly noteworthy in either Pindar or Hyginus' account of the tale like he does for Cyrene or Branchus and the end result is a line of prophets sacred to Zeus and the Olympia oracle - a classic example of Apollo in his role as father to the great prophets and wisemen and yet something about the gentleness of Apollo in his affair with Evadne has always captivated me.

Evadne, who so feared her father that she would abandon her newborn child just to spare herself his anger, was able to trust and love Apollo. Likewise, Apollo did not once abandon her, sending the most blessed of attendants to help in her birthing and automatically stepping in to make sure Iamus was fed, clothed and warm until his mother returned for him. It's something about a young Iamus going into the River Alpheus - an ancient stream - and calling out for his purpose from his father and grandfather. It's something about Apollo's immediate and calm response and the way he leads the youth to the temple that will be his destiny and personally educates him in the ways of divination.

It's just one of those stories that always sticks out to me for the portrait of a father and lover it sketches of Apollo, even in a seemingly innocuous myth such as this one.

[sso-montana]

Wings, hearts, some things are meant to be torn apart

Word Count: 3k+ Rating: Mature Warnings: violence, implied character death, vulgar language, descriptions of injuries, blood mention OC's Mentioned: Rachel Harrow @starstable-eve, Alina @alinasteelcrest, Carolina @carolina-nightjar

[Even in a zombie apocalypse Montana didn't expect something like this to happen. All she had wanted was to look for old Jasper, not have her humanity taken from her.]

As the head drops from the zombies shoulders its body soon follows. Montana was panting from exhaustion, pulling the blue scarf she had wrapped around her head down to allow more air to flow into her lungs. It was a safety precaution to stop any potentially zombie fluids from entering her system while… taking care of them.

The thought of zombie blood or saliva getting into her mouth was also, simply put, fucking disgusting.

“Onyx?” As she called out there came a low whine in response before a head popped out from behind a boulder not too far away. With a last look around what had once been a small zombie group that had been separated from the Silverglade Horde she let out a sigh and swung her axe over her shoulder. The shire came walking towards her, stopping only to sniff at a severed head before snorting in disgust and continuing his walk. As his hind legs passed the skull he gave a forceful kick against it, sending it flying straight into a bush.

The girl couldn't help but chuckle at her horse's attitude. At least some things hadn't changed since the start of all… this.

Really, Onyx's attitude had not let up even a single bit. The tantrum he had thrown before, whilst and especially after she had cut his mane and tail for his own safety had been the worst one she had ever seen.

Truth be told, it had hurt her, too. Justin and her had always threatened to cut them because of how terrible the grooming process was. Of course they’d never gone through with it, after all Onyx had always taken pride in his mane and tail (Montana wanted to judge him for it, really, but who was she to do so, considering how important her hair was for her, too?). It had been nothing more than a joke.

But actually having to do it because it could one day be the difference between life and death for him…

Shaking her head the former blacksmith apprentice turned her focus back on the present. Her fingers didn't feel the warmth from Onyx’s nose as she gently stroked it.

Of course she didn't. It had been ages since she had been able to feel any kind of warmth. The wildlife she hunted and cooked for food didn't feel warm to her, either. It wasn't cold and for the tiniest of seconds she was almost able to feel the heat of it as she bit down but immediately after the meat simply felt… not cold. It was weird to describe it and even weirder to actually eat.

Not even fire itself was of any use to her. The bandage that wrapped around her lower left arm and was hidden beneath her thermo clothing was a cruel reminder of that. Had Onyx not cried out when it happened it was unlikely she would've noticed the burn at all.

“Ready to head over to Jasper's farm?”

A soft snort was all the response she got. Montana gave the shire one last pat on his nose before she placed her axe in the scabbard she had taken (stolen) from one of the abandoned Jorvik Rangers Stations in Mistfall and attached to Onyx's saddle before she swung herself on the horse's back.

With her plan of taking the mountain range path instead of riding past the Equestrian Center- or what was left of it- the trek towards Golden Hills was still a good hour away. The chance of encountering both zombies or other survivors were much lower that way which was just up to her liking. Weeding out zombies was exhausting and she didn't have the energy for that after today's stunt.

Looking up at the fading sun they'd most likely arrive after nightfall.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

As she slipped through the metal gate Montana let out a string of curses. Her right hand had gotten caught on one of the broken metal bars and cut through her shirt. There was already a trail of blood forming, reaching from her index finger across the back of her hand all the way down to the right corner of her wrist.

Onyx let out a worried whine at her reaction, nervously scratching at the ground with his hoofs. He hadn't liked the idea of her looking for Jasper all on her own from the start.

“It's nothing. I'll be fine.”

Judging from his pinned back ears and continued scratching at the pavement her poor attempt at sounding reassuring wasn't working at all.

With a heavy sigh she motioned towards the riding arena to where Onyx, after a ten second stare down, started heading.

If he wanted to it would be no problem for the shire to kick down what was left of the gate, they both knew it. The only reason Onyx had refrained from doing so was that Montana wouldn't have it. Neither the noise nor the potential injuries were worth having him accompany her on the little trip. A five minute trip from the gate to the farm. Maybe she could make it in two if she ran. He was being dramatic.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to run.

Heading towards the old farm Montana couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was wrong or even stupid to look for old man Jasper, but she had to. Not just for her own peace of mind but also the Moorlands. If she ever saw them again she could at least tell them about him. They were the only ones she still had left after her grandma had…

Pushing that memory back to the dark corners of her mind she started to observe her surroundings more closely.

There weren't any zombies around that she could see or hear. Not even the wolves that would usually howl at this time of night made a sound. No insects, no wind, nothing.

‘Something is wrong’ the thought kept repeating in the back of her mind as she got closer to the farmhouse. Something or someone was in the area that nature itself was terrified of.

‘Rule number one: if you're out in the wild and everything goes quiet, leave. Nature doesn't go silent unless something horrible is about to happen.’ It had been an offhand comment by one of the Jorvik Rangers- Rachel, maybe?- when they got talking after she had dropped off a delivery from the blacksmith. Back then Montana didn't think much of it, though after the incident she'd more than internalized that rule.

The sound of dry leaves crunching beneath her boots seemed deafeningly loud in the dead of night.

Trying to redirect her focus on the mission she had set for herself the uneasy feeling in her stomach only grew the closer she got to the house. It was hard to make out in the dark before but now she could see the front door was wide open, left hanging onto a single hinge that threatened to give out any second. Some of the windows were broken, the railing around the porch destroyed and even some of the tiles from the roof were missing.

There was no chance in hell Jasper was still around, at least not alive. She should go back. She knew she should go back. All she had to defend herself with was a knife- it wasn't bad, better than nothing, but the thought of being without her axe made her insides turn and not in a good way.

'It's fine. Calm down. At least look if there's some food left. That way the trip wasn't completely useless’ as she set foot on the porch the creaking of the wood almost caused her to turn around and make a run back to the gate right then and there.

She waited a second.

Then another one.

There was no reaction from… well, anything around her. No breeze, no sound of animals or zombies, no rustling of bushes or grass. Nothing changed. Just quiet. Too quiet.

It felt like a pair of eyes was watching her.

Shaking her head Montana mumbled to herself while walking over to the front door: “Get a grip.”

She was getting paranoid. Which was probably a good thing considering the whole zombie-apocalypse-shit that was going on. Better safe than bitten.

Still. It made her feel crazy, even if it was just a little bit.

Maybe she was turning crazy. When had she last held an actual conversation with another human being? Was it the time she had given that rider with the injured leg the warning about the collapsed bridge at Valedale Lake? Or when she shared some of her water with that blond-haired girl in Mistfall? These days everything seemed to blend in together.

Wake up. Travel around. Kill zombies. Look for food. Find shelter for the night. Repeat the next morning. The longest period of time she had spent in one place had been a week and that was back when she had been at the Valley.

Sitting around doing nothing felt wrong. Thinning out the zombies at least gave her a purpose. Like she was doing something useful.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she entered the living room of the old farmhouse.

Flipped over furniture and broken glass was scattered around with books and photo frames thrown into the mix.

And the remnants of what had once been Jasper Holbrook laying on the floor.

It wasn't surprising, not really. Jasper had been old and stubborn and probably refused to join the G.V. because his farm “wasn't that far away.”

That didn't mean it didn't hurt. He was one of the last people she had left that she actually cared about, that she had considered family. To see his body mauled and eaten by those disgusting, wretched, abominations-

Blind rage or grief, it was hard to tell the cause of the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

'Don't cry. Don't you fucking cry.’

Swiftly turning around Montana headed to the kitchen, the back of her uninjured hand viciously rubbing at the corners of her eyes. Crying won't solve anything. It wouldn't help her, it sure as fuck wouldn't help Jasper. Finding food that hadn't been raided by survivors would help. Finding a first aid kit would help.

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Canned green beans and pumpkin purée, crispbread and raisins. Sure, it wasn't the best selection of food and sure as hell not something the former blacksmith apprentice would usually go for, but who could afford to be picky in an apocalypse? The big bottles of water were a good addition as well. Something with more flavor would've been nice though.

‘Man, I miss Energy Drinks’

Did it feel silly thinking about missing the fuel for her caffeine and sugary drink addiction? Yes. Was it at least somewhat helpful in keeping her feel normal-ish? Also yes. Humor had always been her coping mechanism, much to the dismay of others, and now there was no one but Onyx to judge her for her warped sense of keeping spirits high. Or the attempt therefor.

There was still the feeling of dread following her as she sat down on the porch steps and pulled out the fresh bandages she had found in a first aid kit. Disinfectant wasn't something she had been able to acquire though so the bottle of vodka she had found needed to do.

Taking a sniff from the bottle the former blacksmith apprentice considered taking a sip before eventually deciding against it. Alcohol had never been something she actively sought out, at least not in a comforting way. Self-hatred had driven her to many things but at least alcoholism wasn't one of them.

She could almost hear Justins disapproving sigh in the back of her mind.

Her face twisted in discomfort as the bottle's contents poured over the torn skin of her hand. The sting common for alcohol coming into contact with wounds accompanied by the icy cold feeling of the liquor send multiple shivers down her spine. It was as if a thousand tiny icicles bore into the already aching wound. She quickly set down the now half empty bottle beside her as another colorful string of curses left her lips.

“Stupid stupid stupid sealed magic!”

Montana shook her hand vigorously as if she would be able to shake the pain away, too. Pressing down on the cut with a crumpled up tissue she let out a quiet groan. ‘The things I do to prevent a fucking infection.’

Justin should be proud of her. She was taking care of herself. Somewhat.

As soon as the aching had faded to a dull pain the girl removed the tissue and started wrapping the bandage around her hand. At the very least it had stopped bleeding.

After the rest of the vodka and bandages had been stowed away in her bag Montana stood up from the porch, giving her surroundings one last look before-

Snap

The world seemed to freeze. Her pulse skyrocketed. Blood pumped through her veins with such an intensity she almost felt warm. Her mind was racing, going through every possible scenario of what that could've been, of what she had to defend herself with, of what her chances of survival were depending on her opponent.

Every single fiber in her body told her to run, to flee, to get away from there holy shit your going to die-

Rustling. There was the slightest rustling coming from a bush not too far away and out of the corner of her eye she could see a hooded figure emerging from the direction.

Without a second or even first thought Montana started to sprint. Toward the gate, towards her exit, towards safety. It wasn't strategic or graceful or even thought through. It was pure, primal survival instinct.

There was commotion behind her. More rustling. The breaking of branches and crunching of leaves. Footsteps.

She didn't dare turn around. This wasn't a matter of who was stronger but who was faster. Luckily for her adrenaline and the fear of dying did wonders for one's presumed limits.

But it wasn't good enough.

Halfway across the path something jumped her back. The girl's face was smashed into the muddy ground beneath her feet, muffling her groaning and screaming. She faintly registered the pain shooting through her nose and temple as they collided with the ground but didn't dare to focus on it.

The weight on her back shifted, a hand pressing down her head while another pulled at her scarf and turtleneck. In a matter of milliseconds, before she even had any chance to do something, there were two sharp objects piercing her skin. Her cry was muffled by the mud, hands balling into fists as a pain shot from her neck through her nervous system.

Something was biting her and she was completely helpless.

'Fight.’

‘Fight!’

‘God-fucking-dammit fight you useless bitch!'

The all too familiar rage filling her veins helped fuel the fire in her chest. With not even half a mind on what she was doing and the rest focused on surviving Montana tried reaching for the knife strapped to her leg. Her right arm had been trapped under her own body and the struggle to get it out seemingly caught the attention of who or whatever had attacked her. The stinging pain in her neck deepened as the hand that presumably had held her clothes now was pushing down on her right shoulder.

This couldn't be it.

This wouldn't be it.

She was tough. She was strong. No fucking chance she would let herself be killed just like that.

Racking her brain for something she could do to escape other than uselessly wiggling her body beneath the weight on top of her and her left hand hitting against what was probably the back of the thing an idea finally popped into her mind.

Putting as much force as she could behind it Montana slammed her head up and back, colliding the back of her skull with the forehead of her attacker.

Finally. The things- teeth most likely now that she gave it an actual thought- left her neck as the thing above her cursed.

Without a second to lose she gave another headbutt, ignoring the pain it sent through her own skull, before putting all her energy into rolling them both over. After two rolls she managed to shake the thing- person?- off her back. After three she scrambled to her feet and started running towards the gate again, putting a good distance between her and her attacker.

Again, she didn't care to look at whatever had attacked her before starting to sprint. She needed to get out. Needed to get to Onyx and her axe. Survival was more important than information.

Slipping through the gate in a haste it seemed almost ironic that she didn't sustain any injuries now that she wasn't being careful.

There were no footsteps behind as she sprinted towards the riding arena, her legs carrying her even faster once she spotted Onyx’s silhouette in the distance.

Seeing his rider running towards him the shire didn't waste a second and started galloping towards her. Only once they had reached each other did the two of them stop, Montana panting from exhaustion as Onyx whined loudly and positioned himself between her and the direction of the gate, ears pinned back and nostrils flared.

As she heaved herself up into the saddle the girl didn't waste any time on waiting for only god knew what had attacked her to show itself.

“We're leaving.”

Her voice was raspy, eyes staring into space as she gripped the reins tightly and let Onyx take the lead, galloping towards the direction of the mountain path they had come from. The aches all over her body, her hand, neck, head and nose slowly started to register as her pulse calmed down.

‘What in the actual hell just happened?’

ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

Montana doesn't know where she is. Actually, she doesn't remember anything that happened the last few days- weeks? Everything is a blurry mess. She doesn't remember how she got here, where Onyx is or why she was kneeling beside a corpse.

….

‘What?’

Her hands tremble as she looks over to the dead body laying beside her. The girl's jaw is slack, a silent scream leaving her pale lips. Her eyes are wide open, lifeless and staring into space.

There's a strong taste of iron in Montana’s mouth causing her to subconsciously lick her lips only for her tongue to graze something sharp. She winces, lifting one hand to tap along her lips and realizes her canine teeth are way sharper than she remembered. Longer too, now that she thought about it.

Thirsty. She was so, so thirsty. As if she hadn't had a single drop of water in weeks. Looking around for any possible source of water she went through what she currently knew.

‘A dead person. Sharp teeth. Blood in your mouth. A memory gap.’ While turning her head back to the corpse beside her she saw two holes, not even as big as her pinky's fingernail, at the base of the neck. The person seemed pale, weirdly so. As if all life had been sucked out of them.

As the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place the former blacksmith apprentice started shaking her head, trying, and failing, to get up from the ground. Something in her brain clicked and she started scrambling backwards on her hands and feet. Away from the corpse. Away from what she now realized had once been Judy.

Judy. Sweet, nice, Judy that worked at the Equestrian Center. Laying dead at her feet with an empty expression toward the afternoon sky.

With half a thought to not alert any possible zombies that may be lurking nearby Montana clasped her hands over her mouth before she started screaming.

Screaming at the sight of Judy, dead and lifeless and so, so pale.

Screaming at the thought that she had to have done this.

Screaming over the agonizing realization that whatever had happened at Jaspers Farm had fundamentally changed her.

Screaming because something within her knew- she wasn't human anymore.

[starleska]

haHA!!!!! I'M WINNING TONIGHT FRIENDS 🔥🔥🔥🔥 (quiz here 😉)

[ash-and-starlight]

I've been seeing lots of stuff about the radiant emperor series and I've been undecided about whether I should give it a try. So since I've seen you post about it (and make absolutely gorgeous art), what is your favourite thing about it, without spoilers? :)

OUSHDHGSGHD OKAY there are a lot of favorite things but if i had to pick one id say what the literary critics call “nine dimensional fucked up foils blunt circle” like. every character has motivations, plot points or characteristics that mirror other characters in such a poignant way, both blatantly and subtly. i feel like it’s something so woven in the story and the construction of those characters and i don’t think i’ve ever seen a book that does something like this in such a big scale and pulled it off so well?? like queerness/gender/sexuality/sacrifice/relationship with your own body/death/daddy issues/class/ruthlessness/masculine ideals™️/societal norms/the mask vs the real self/war/destiny etc. just pick one of these topics and there will be like at least three characters connected to it and by extension to each other i just. rotating them all in my mind 24/7 squeezing them like squeaky stress toys

[ofallthingsnasty]

Nasty I have a question about basement wife I’ve been thinking of for a while 🤔 apart from not trying to escape and not fighting against crocodile, what counts as her being on her “best behavior”?

At his core, I think that yandere/dark Crocodile is a wife guy. He wants that "wife experience" without the hassle of you running and threatening his operations in any way whatsoever. He did say he never trusted anyone from the start - and you're no exception to that. But who needs trust in their partner when they're unable to do anything against him? Crocodile wants to have his cake and eat it, too. (Not to mention that being a real threat to someone makes them awfully compliant and sweet, no?) You playing pretend, being nice and giving him a warm lap to rest his head on after a hard day's work is 'best behavior'. No fussing, no going stiff, no claws, no apathy, nothing. Just you being his good, little (or not-so-little) stepford wife. Our man is tired, overworked, always tense... he just wants an outlet at home; someone to spoil and decorate, to take the edge off. Of course, you're only human and not perfect, he can live with that. But you being affectionate out of your own volition, addressing him with a pet name, a kiss pressed to the hand that holds you at night... That is best behavior. And always rewarded. In my mind, this whole spiel goes on for years and years - at least a good while before Robin appears. It has the potential to morph into a weird neither-here-nor-there dynamic, one that makes him a little softer, to the point that he drags you with him after the Summit War. After all, he could have simply ditched you, without a base and unsteady as he is. But you're well and truly his spouse by then. You belong by his side, are a part of the look like the fur he likes to wear. And with the years (and fear, wrongly perceived as loyalty), he really finds himself loving you. A little backwards, that one.

[gauloiseblue]

Honestly even after reading the intro for the simulation König I thought he was going to be in a lil farming game that invades our dreams (def not to cop a feel) but I mean they're the same in the way that they're like a virus you can catch but can't throw ever

Noooo don't give me ideas about König who invades our dream just to touch us or something 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[lemonadehtwooh]

I have two moods:

Angsting about The Iliad version of Hektor and how that corresponds with the FGO version of Hektor/Implications

OR

Being gay as FUCK over that FGO ojisan

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

okay sorry for the confusion yes he is. but he doesn’t wanna be

imagine if you got your brain stripped out but you had a magic failsafe in place so I guess instead of turning into a mindless drone you just reverted back into your child self And managed to stick around in your original form as a spectre so you could yell at your child self anytime your child self didn’t meet your expectations or do as good as they needed to to be as successful in life as you were.

that’s what’s going on. as far as I understand it and the jury’s still out on the details given the fact that no one else who got the same brain-wipe seems to be nearly as coherent and capable as him nor did they turn into actual children like he did. baby pep doesn’t like getting yelled at all the time and is being raised in a very different environment than original pep was so he’s not the same person emotionally but he’s basically just. if peps had to start over from babyhood, but with his adult self looking over him criticizing his every move to his face and his moms are all settled down together and domestic instead of volatile and mid break-up

[everywaythatmatters]

“Strangely, I felt at peace.”

[voidfell]

FROM THE INBOX: “So you’re telling me you’re in a foster home? Nah— that won’t do. What if we need you for a mission?” Flash crossed his arms and tilted his head, examining his fellow League member. “You’ll just have to come live with me. I’ll get the paperwork started with the foster system if you want— I just got a house for me and Bart and we’ve got a spare bedroom.” He paused. He was getting ahead of himself. “That is— if you WANT to. I— I’ve been in the system myself. Then I got taken in by these great folks. They were older, but they gave me a shot. I’d like to give you one, too.” / @nerdynanny

"I mean, I haven't missed a mission yet right?"

Legally, yes, Billy was pretty sure he was still considered in a foster home. The last one hadn't reported him missing yet, so he was still exactly where he was supposed to be on paper. The fact that he had been anywhere except there for a lot longer than any sane adult would be happy with didn't seem relevant.

Mentally, he did the math and granted he wasn't necessarily that great at math, he didn't think Flash's City was all that far from Fawcett, well, comparatively. If anything happened in the city it wouldn't be that hard to get there with flight and the Speed of Mercury.

Normally he wouldn't even be trying to math the math. He had his own thing going on, and it worked. But, the difference was that he trusted Wally, this wasn't like the other foster homes or his uncle. It was different. When Wally said he wanted to give him a shot, he meant it.

"It's a really nice offer. I just, I dunno."

The Rock of Eternity, his enemies, his city, he had responsibilities, plus the League, plus well . . . he couldn't really put a name to his hesitation if he was being honest.

[imminent-danger-came]

(4x10 The Jade Emperor)

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(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

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Jade Emperors smiling before their inevitable ends.

[shivunin]

which of your stories are you most proud to have finished? are there any little details you put into your stories that you're particularly proud of? 💜

Hey, Mer! Thank you for asking c:

Hmmm taking this in two ways:

Proud to have finished as in, proud that I managed to finish it has to be Wander the Drifting Roads, which is one of my two long fics. I was editing while I was posting and caught up to the point I'd edited to, which caused me disproportionate stress haha. For a minute, I wasn't sure I was ever going to get that last chapter into a state I was okay with posting. I briefly considered walking away, but I am so glad I didn't!! It is still one of my favorite things I've written.

Proud that I wrote in general is probably Palimpsest, which 1) I still feel clever over the name and 2) that section of act 2 remains the crunchiest Dragon Age thing to me (it is just so!!!! *paragraph deleted*) and 3) I love writing from inside Fenris's head and I am very, very proud of how the fic came out in general.

*gets out the red string* okay so you know how there are a bunch of statues of people in random poses that don't really look like they're carved from anything? and how Solas froze a ton of people in Trespasser in stone? well, in my fic The Scourge of Sundermount, the Lavellan there comes across a left-behind remnant of Mythal's soul in a bit of the amulet Merrill used to bring her back and she becomes a sort of Medusa-esque figure, capable of (involuntarily) turning people to stone with a remnant of that power. I have a hard time reading that story because it is very sad, but I do feel clever about the details in the way I situated that AU.