#reluctant even

[theo-notts-doll]

i haven't had the time to watch percy jackson ep 7, and i hate how that means i cant go on any social media in fear of spoilers for a show based on a book series i've read like 50 times

[charlietheepicwriter7]

It was easy to lure the newest Titan away from the rest, back the boy into a corner. He was the weakest link, the newest hero, the easiest to manipulate-

Then, the ghost child transformed, glowing rings passing over his body to reveal a familiar black-haired boy. "Uncle Slade, what the fuck are you doing?"

[nenoname]

"And now I know why! He hates me!"

[shrugsinchinese]

Gravity, and all that’s born within illustrations

I had the honor of collaborating with the wonderful @talesofsymphoniac for her bookbinding project! This is a series of illustrations I drew for @sky-scribbles’s fic, I may have mentioned this fic once or thrice :)

A fan book of a fanfic which inspired fanart, being a part of this project is sort of my love letter to fan creation in general. Seriously, fan creators, you rock.

[theandrosaur]

I'm doodling them while I watch the series and get inspired in the meantime.

Did I already said Cole?

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[spacedace]

Had a thought about the Reluctant War and made myself a bit sad and I have no idea if it'll make it into the story proper so I'm going to inflict it upon all you guys:

Dick Grayson on the streets of Gotham trying to do everything he can to help as everyone join the ghosts in fighting the GIW, suddenly has a version of the GAV barreling down towards him and for some reason he can't get out of the way in time.

He thinks he's about to join the army of the dead in a whole new way, when the tank fo a vehicle is suddenly sent flying as something massive charged it from the side. He hears a familiar bellowing and then realizes that it's Zitka, a ghost after passing away peacefully a few years before.

She wasn't apart of the army of the ghosts, wasn't brought in to fight. She's just been following her tiny human child around all these years and now that there's enough ecto in the air to do so, she's going to protect him with all her might.

Dick is emotional, so thankful to have his old friend back, but the city is still in a state of chaos. He gets onto Zitka's back and they get to work, running - flying - around helping to grab the injured and whisk them away to safety or take out other GAVs and the like.

It's absurd and freeing and wonderful all at once to be literally flying through the skies of Gotham on the ghost of his elephant best friend, and if Dick wasn't already on the side of King Phantom he is *now* and -

He gets shot off Zitka's back.

A GIW agent was aiming for the Ghost elephant but somehow *missed* and hit Dick instead. Not enough to injure him too badly, but enough to send him flying off Zitka's back and plummeting to the ground. His grapple is broken, and Zitka is diving for him but she's being shot at and she's not going to make it in time and -

A hand, reaching out to him in midair, familiar with its callouses and strong grip as he reaches out and grasps it, body suddenly swinging in a different direction and muscles acting on memory as he falls into the old, achingly familiar routine of his childhood. His mother, ethereal and bright as she smiles down at him, hanging upside down from a bar suspended from nothing but open sky as they swing and he is let go, flipping on instinct and caught by the steady strong hands of his father.

The Flying Graysons reunited in the skies above Gotham, Dick's ghostly parents determined to ensure their little bird never falls the way they did.

[ryuki-draws]

Astro's masterplan against malicious maintenance: How it started vs. how it's going

[deimcs]

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (2009) + iconic lines [3/?]

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[turbo-tsundere]

Drawings, old and new sketches, doodles, scribbles, style experiments, and snippets of things to hopefully finish one day...

All the best for the new year, everyone.

[fujunfuren]

Do I have to?

QUEEN OF TEARS (2024)

[wow-its-christophe]

Thinking of Grantaire's thougts when he woke up can be funny when you think of it in a nonserious way because "Oh hey. Wait why are you all on the fl— Oh shit"

But also if you think fir too long it must've been fucking terrifying. Like you LITERALLY JUST WOKE UP and all of your friends are dead on the floor and your love interest (idk what to call Enjolras rn forgive me) is in a corner with multiple guns being pointed at him .

[holy--milk]

so here's a fun little PIDW AU idea.

after finally dying at the ripe old age of 200+, former demon emperor LBG wakes up in the body of his 12 year old self, on the day where he joined the cang qiong mountain sect in his previous life. he's understandably angry and bitter about having to face the misery of his youth all over again, but ultimately decides to take advantage of this unexpected second chance at life and be less of a downtrodden naive little lamb this time around.

the disciple selection goes just the way it did in his first life (LBG ends up going to the CQM sect again because, well, it's not like he can think of a better option at this point in his life), but when LBG meets SQQ in person for the "first" time and mentally prepares himself to be doused in tea once again, nothing happens. SQQ just drinks the tea he brewed and orders MF to show him around and get him settled before leaving.

and then the expected bullying never comes. his seniors (with the exception of NYY) may not be the friendliest bunch but they mostly leave him alone, and while the SQQ of this new life is still cold and distant, he isn't constantly looking for excuses to punish his most junior disciple. and whenever LBG acts out to purposefully test him, SQQ's punishments seem to be unexpectedly lenient.

which leads to LBG having a full-blown crisis. it took him so much time and mental effort in his first life to come to accept that it was the world around him that was inherently evil and cruel, and not him that was inherently unlikeable and unloveable, and now his new life turned all that upside down? apparently, it was indeed him that's been the problem this whole time, and all it took for other people to be just a bit nicer to him was changing his behaviour (even though he's not quite sure what exactly led to this monumental change).

unbeknownst to him, the SQQ of this new life also transmigrated into his younger fully intact body on the same day that LBG did. and he's working on salvaging his reputation in the cultivation world in order to be able to expose LBH's demonic heritage in the future.

[zishuge]

The Spirealm 致命游戏 (2024) | Eps. 8 + 39

[mollysunder]

A while back I saw someone ask if Vander would have accepted Jayce's deal to give Jinx up for Zaun. The resounding response was "No", because Vander was already put in that position (sort of), and he chose to protect his children by giving himself up, and Vander would never be in that position to begin with. Those are correct statements, but they're not relevant to the question.

The question was, if Jinx decided to escalate tensions with acts of theft and violence that brought Piltover's attention, would Vander let Jinx be sent to Stillwater? I think the chance of him saying yes is at least more than 0.

We're not talking about all the kids getting caught up in a robbery gone wrong. We're talking about an older Jinx going solo into Piltover for targeted destruction havoc. In a universe where she everyone's still alive, Piltover still exists, and her hatred for that place would still burn and grow with time. The question really was, if Jinx put Vander in the same position Silco did in the past would he decide to give her up?

For Vander, what's on the line isn't Zaunite independence for Zaun, it's the safety of his family, his friends, and the population of the Undercity against Piltover's retaliation. He'd probably have even less moves to play than Silco did at the end. Vander can't give himself up, Jinx's name has already been leaked, and he is agonizingly aware of what Piltover's capable of.

Would he try to have her sent away? Vander wasn't willing to throw someone else under the bus for the kids in the past, so would he do it for a young adult Jinx who's more responsible for her actions? Would he think Stillwater is a better alternative for Jinx who may end up getting herself killed? Maybe he can try to plead for banishment (though that seems to be reserved for Piltovans)?

The question really stuck with me because Vander was willing to kill a man he considered his brother because he went too far, what does that mean for a daughter that won't back down from her own agenda?