#silver sable imagines

[fandomnerd9602]

Spideypool!reader and Silver Sable?

Reader likes to tease Silver and she thinks he is annoying but reader just wants to get her attention?

Sorry for bad English and thank you!

Y/N pops up from behind Silver Sable...

Y/N: hey Silverfox! you miss me?

Silver: no. Spideypool just leave this scene.

Y/N: I can't. The request above said I had to annoy you.

Silver: what?

Y/N: (whispers) I love you

[goldstrvck]

sunbrat insomniac spider-man au 🙏🙏

[theladyofbloodshed]

In an alternate universe where Nesta Archeron is Rhysand's mate.

@rhystaappreciationweekend

The scent of her damp hair was intoxicating. Rhysand’s magic swelled within him at the noxious power sweeping beneath the crack of the door. He imagined her combing it through, her fingers running through the damp, golden strands like a river of gold. Was it soft? Did she like it when men touched her hair? No, she wouldn’t let any man touch it, Rhysand knew. Even the thought of one of those despicable human men touching her – her hair, her face, her body – made rage snarl within him like a rabid beast.  

Rhysand couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. He was barely breathing with her under the same roof. He was a starving male. Nothing could alleviate the ache within him that demanded her.

His forehead pressed to the wooden door as he inhaled deeply. It was folly to try and force away thoughts of her bare skin, of water running over the generous swell of her breasts as she washed.

Would she wear the dress that he’d chosen for her?

It had been all too easy to direct Feyre when the notion of visiting the Hewn City had arisen. Too easy to encourage her to speak to her sisters and demand that they attend. A united front. Exposure to the worst part of the court they now called home. And to the worst parts of him.

And when Feyre had worried that neither sister had appropriate attire, Rhysand had taken great joy in delving into the ancient trove of gowns crafted by his mother’s hands. The dress selected for Nesta was sable. So dark that it devoured all of the light around it. She would look as though she was crafted from the stars, like a piece of the night’s sky had been cut away especially for her, the queen she was. It would fit like a second skin, modest in length but conforming to the peaks and valleys of her body. He’d nearly had to cut off his own hand before he handed jewellery to Feyre for her sister. He’d give the whole damn cache to her and ruin himself. But Nesta Archeron needed no adornments. No shiny treasure to make her glitter like a prize. No, all she needed in the Hewn City was the tongue she bore which cut sharper than any knife.

A shadow skimmed across his cheek, sent by one who knew when to announce his presence.

Rhys jerked away from the door, adjusting his trousers with a subtlety that would go unnoticed by any other – but not a shadow singer.

‘The Archerons are preparing themselves for the delights that the Hewn City offers.’

Azriel gave a shallow nod. His eyes missed nothing. ‘Has Feyre spoken to her?’

‘About what?’ He spoke too sharply, the accusation in his voice pealing like a warning bell.

The hazel eyes of the shadow singer flickered briefly to Rhys’ hand as though he could see that damn bond there. It didn’t tug at his finger or even his rib as others had spoken of. No, the mating bond that he shared with Nesta Archeron was a noose. It tightened and chafed during every prickly interaction. It was silver fire wrapped in shadow, biting and burning in every moment. If it ever snapped for her, it would be the short drop from the gallows for him because she wouldn’t let him live. He had sensed her power that day the Cauldron spat her out. Mates were equal in power, but she would be his ruin.

That female with her quick-turning mind and cunning eyes surely had to wonder why Rhysand despised her proximity yet craved her in her absence.

‘About training her power. With you.’

‘She is loath to do it.’

He was glad for it. Her power met his own with vitriol. They could not be in the same room without the tendrils of his mind reaching for her of their own accord, only to be met with a fierce blaze of fire from her mental shields. Her mind was a fortress. He had yet to decide if he would be the knight to save her or the dragon to keep her.

‘Brother to brother,’ said Azriel in a voice so quiet that Rhysand had to step forwards to hear it, ‘most females aren’t accustomed to males lurking at their doors and sniffing. Nor, I believe, do they welcome it.’

***

The high lord with his meddling had dragged Nesta into hell. What good was immortality when Nesta spent every moment in a strange sort of agony. There was a constant restlessness to her since she had crawled from the Cauldron that her sisters did not share. Nesta could eat little and sleep was a foreigner. Her skin irritated her like she had an unseen rash. It only ever abated in the presence of the high lord. When she’d caught him scowling at her once, she had been about ready to demand what faerie magic he was putting on her to make her so on edge and fidgety then he’d gritted his teeth and stormed away from her while holding his breath.

He despised her, she knew well. A lack of hunting as a child had forever tainted her in his eyes – not that Nesta gave a damn. Feyre could bleat all she liked about how kind and generous her new employer was, that he’d been a great friend to her during the collapse of her engagement. Nesta did not care. He was spoilt, arrogant, and rude. Rhysand found reasons to leave the room when she entered. Sometimes he did not even give a reason and walked out without a word. Perhaps he was generous with his wealth – sending seamstresses and bakers to the House of Wind to fatten them up and dress them up – but was it truly generosity when his wealth was endless?

The dress that Rhysand had provided was utterly beautiful. Nesta was enraptured by the gown and would have spent the whole evening staring at it unless Elain didn’t hurry her to action.

‘You look like a queen,’ remarked Feyre. She canvassed the gown and gave a nod of approval. ‘Rhysand is a really good male, Nesta.’

‘What does that have to do with anything?’

She struggled to keep the snap out of her voice. Perhaps it was magic that writhed inside of her, unsettled and searching for an outlet. It was making her more irritable.

Feyre frowned then said, ‘Maybe you could thank Rhys for it.’

Nesta resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she decided she would thank the high lord. It was difficult to find gowns that fit her body well due to her height, slender figure, and generous breasts. They were a curse. This dress, however, fit absolutely perfectly. It had to be magic.

The three of them took the stairs together to the roof. There was no breeze to ruin her hair or make her eyes water. Just a perfect, unending sunset that set the sky alight with oranges and pinks and stretched all the way to the horizon. The group was already gathered there: Amren with her silvery silken clothes, Mor in a dress the colour of blood, the two Illyrians in their leathers. The high lord stood a few paces away near the edge of the roof. Nesta contemplated pushing him off. As though he heard her thoughts, his head snapped in their direction. He may as well have been touching her, his gaze was so heavy. He touched his neck then swallowed.

Nesta stepped towards him. ‘Thank you for-’

‘We need to go,’ he said, speaking over her to the others. He practically shivered when he had to move past her, as if her mere presence was so despicable to him.

‘Feyre’s winnowing me,’ the big, lumbering Illyrian called.

Cassian swaggered towards her sister and held out a big hand for her to take. Nesta had seen enough open flirtation between them that she didn’t need to guess what occurred behind closed doors. She didn’t want to guess besides. There were certain things that siblings never needed to know.

Mor took Amren and disappeared from sight while Azriel extended a scarred hand to Elain, before lifting her into his arms, flying from the roof, then also disappearing into shadow.

Rhysand’s upper lip curled as he faced her on the roof. She felt his power come for her like a battering ram. Her own magic lashed back at it as a worthy adversary.  

Nesta lifted her chin so she could look down her nose at him. ‘I do not need to go to that place.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he insisted.

‘No, I do not.’

‘Yes,’ Rhysand gritted out. He unfurled his clenched fist though it seemed to take everything in him not to retreat his fingers back to his palm. ‘Take my hand.’

Nesta’s magic swelled inside of her like a maelstrom. She breathed deeply to try and calm it, to lower the pressure inside of her body.

Her fingers slid against the High Lord of the Night Court’s.

The world went quiet. Nesta could hear herself breathe. Could hear her heart slow down in peace.

Rhysand’s fingers curled against her own. His voice was subdued when he said, ‘Nesta Archeron, you will ruin me.’

[stayteezdreams]

Scenarios: Halloween Couples Costumes {Ateez}

Scenarios: How Bf!Ateez reacts to you wanting to do a couples costume for Halloween + What you dress up as

Pairings: Hongjoong x Reader; Seonghwa x Reader; Yunho x Reader; Yeosang x Reader; San x Reader; Mingi x Reader; Wooyoung x Reader; Jongho x Reader - All are intended to be Gn!Readers.

A/N: I tried to go with mostly gender neutral costumes or gave an some open ended or mixed options for you to choose your preference from.

Requested by @otakutrash669

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1.2k; short because this is a bonus content post.

Hongjoong: Tim Burton Inspired

Hongjoong was all for wearing a couples costume.

BUT, it ended up being really hard for the two of you to find something you both liked.

The ones you suggested were too goofy for him, the ones he suggested were too hard to find everything for.

Then some were too sexy, or revealing, or wouldn't look they way you wanted.

You were afraid you'd have to scrap the whole idea, but then as you were scrolling through Pinterest, you saw a really cool Tim Burton inspired couples outfit.

The outfits were fairly close to stuff both of you had in your closets.

You showed it to Hongjoong and after thinking on it, he agreed.

So you chose your favorite Tim Burton movie and characters and dressed up together.

You even ended up getting help from a makeup artist friend and the costumes came out 1000x better than you originally imagined.

Seonghwa: Super Hero and Villain

Seonghwa never expected the two of you to NOT do a couples costume. It was one of the go-to thing's he got excited about the second you started dating.

He would be devastated if you said you didn't want to match in some way.

Originally, as Seonghwa was going through another Animal Crossing phase, he suggested you dress up as characters from the game.

But it proved to be a bit difficult. If you went too casual, it would look lazy, if you went realistic, you'd be mistaken as furries.

So, you scraped the idea.

You considered doing Star Wars again, just like the previous year, but you wanted to keep it as a back up just in case you thought of nothing else.

After scouring the internet, you landed on Heroes and Villains.

Something you would enjoy and that could be easily recognized.

Seongwha would play his favorite hero (Spiderman) and you went as your favorite Spiderman Villain (your choice but some options: Venom, Green Goblin, Electro, Black Cat, Silver Sable, Shriek)

Yunho: Disney Characters

"We're gonna do a couples costume right?" You asked and Yunho's eyes lit up as his smile grew.

He nodded in excitement, immediately listing things he had already thought about (he was really excited about this okay?).

You both eventually landed on wanting to do something Disney inspired.

But which characters needed to be rounded down majorly.

You could be a prince/princess (Yunho was willing to be the Princess if you didn't want to), Main character x villain, two side characters, etc.

The options were endless and it almost made it harder to choose.

After various ideas and opinions from others you narrowed it down to a list, before deciding on your favorite.

The narrowed down options were: Prince Phillip and Sleeping Beauty, Kristoff and Anna, Alice and the Mad Hatter /or/ Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell /or/ Peter Pan and Hook (your choice).

Yeosang: Mystery Inc

When you asked Yeosang to do a couples costume with you, he appeared unaffected by the question as he agreed.

But inside his heart was racing as he was fighting back a bright smile, he loved the idea.

Eventually he started to act noticeably more excited about it as you discussed what to wear.

Neither of you wanted to do something that had a lot of effort, but you didn't want it to appear too lazy.

You also wanted something that would be easily recognizable so you wouldn't have to deal with being asked what you were all the time.

After a few thrown out ideas, you finally decided on being Scooby Doo characters

Your choice of character, but I can definitely see Yeosang being Shaggy, or even Fred if his hair was blonde at the time.

(Plus Yeosang in an ascot would be adorable)

Some of the others also considered joining in as well for it to be a group costume.

San: Fairy Tale Inspired

"San?" "Hmm?" "Can we wear a couples costume to the party?"

San looked over at you bright eyed and nodded happily. He had been dying to ask you to match with him, but he thought you might want to wear something else.

He had also been afraid that you would feel forced to say yes if he asked. So the fact that you asked made him very happy.

It ended up being hard to choose something, and you were running out of time before the party.

Finally, after seeing a cool photo of werewolf makeup, the two of you decided to do Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf.

As straight forward as you thought it might be, San had a hard time decided which one to be.

San wanted to be both, a bad-ass altered Red Riding Hood Hunter

AND he wanted to be a cool yet sexy (were)wolf.

You played Rock Paper Scissors, and you won so you were able to choose who you wanted to be. Either way San was happy.

Mingi: Till Death Do Us Part

Mingi was the one who first brought up doing a couples costume.

You were all for it, but figured he brought it up because he saw something he wanted to do.

Which made you suspicious.

He admitted that you were right, and pulled up this photo that he wanted to recreate, as well as a bunch more just like it.

You laughed, and agreed. It was nothing over the top, and it was funny and cute.

You figured might get hot wandering around like this, so you decided to have other costumes on underneath to match that you could reveal if you wanted to remove the sheets.

Underneath you decided to dress as a couple who had died on your wedding day.

So even if you took the sheets off, you would still be matching underneath.

Wooyoung: Pokemon

"Should we do a couples costume?" "Can we do a couples costume?"

You ended up asking about it at the same time after you saw an ad for a Halloween movie.

You laughed and agreed readily.

Wooyoung immediately got excited and started throwing out various suggestions but there were so many ideas to choose from,

On a day out, you ended up going to a costume store to get ideas.

When you pointed out the Pokemon section Wooyoung gasped and ran over.

Wooyoung immediately claimed Ash as his costume, but you were more open minded.

Whether you wanted to be Misty (or Brock?), Pikachu, or another fave Pokemon, you had many choices to choose from.

Jongho: Serial Killer and his Victim

When you first asked Jongho to wear a matching costume with you he was a bit reserved.

As much as he loved you, he wasn't sure how he felt about couples costumes.

He wanted to make you happy though, so he agreed.

Wanting him to enjoy it as well, you decided to surprise him with a more fun costume that he might like.

So, one day you plopped down a pile of costumes and fake blood in front of him and he looked at you confused.

Pulling out the Scream mask you tossed it to him before holding up an already bloody and altered shirt and held it up to yourself.

He stared at you for a second before laughing, understanding what you were suggesting.

He nodded in approval as he started to get the costume together.

It was a matching costume, though a bit morbid, but it made him laugh and that was enough for you.

xx

not super detailed or long as this ended up as a Bonus Post for the day!

Taglists:

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669, @tinyelfperson,

@pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop, @shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie,

@alexxavicry

@luckypaintertyphoon, < tag does not work

Ateez Taglists: Everything: @soso59love-blog, @hongjoongsprincess, @thedistractedwriter, @dear-dreamie, @thunderous-wolf,

@briqnne, @hyukssunflower, @dinossaurz, @skz1-4-3, @staytiny2000,

@demonlineslut, @vnessalau, @dancinglikebutterflywings, @tunafishyfishylike

Jongho: @lieutenantn

Seonghwa & Mingi: @ye0nvibezzn

[eri-pl]

Book of Lost Tales 5: more houses of the Valar!

Writing on my phone, so there might be hilarious autocorrect mistakes. Long post.

Oromë is often outside Valinor, more often than Ossë and as often as Yavanna. But he's got a lot of land full of forests and mountains and deer and bison (!) and all kinds of animals, which he doesn't hunt, because he only hunts outside of Aman. Also, there are no predators. I guess Manwë's eagles eat grass? Ok maybe there are predators, just not in those forests.

Oromë's house is wide and low, full of trophies and hunting weapons. I imagine a log cabin the size of a palce. In the middle of each room there's a living tree used as a column, which is really cool. The color scheme is, predictably, green and brown. I really need to find time for Minecraft again. Also, there's partying.

Vána spends most time in her gardens, fenced with huge whitethorns (hawthorns, but with a pretty name) and the center is full of roses and her favorite place. And in there is the cauldron of golden light and a fountain of it.

Birds sang there all the year with the full throat of spring, and flowers grew in a riot of blossom and of glorious life.

I love the prose. Also:

So fair were these abodes and so great the brilliance of the trees of Valinor that Vefántur and Fui his wife of tears might not endure to stay there long, but fared away far to the northward of those regions,

(those are Mandos and evil!Nienna in case you forgot)

So they begged(!) Aulë to carve then a house under the roots of cold northern mountains. So he did, with the help of their (we don't call them Maiar yet) who are called "shadowy folk" which doesn't sound like they're nice people. They dug vast caves that go even under the sea, and are gloomy and eerie, and this is the Halls of Mandos. But here the place is called after the Vala, not the other way around.

His main hall is black (of course Tolkien can't simply say "black", it's "sable" because this sounds more ominous, just like with Morgoth's shield). It is full of dark mist, illuminated with one small lamp with a few drops of the silver dew. The floor and columns are made of jet (mmm nice, I'll use blackstone probably when doing it in Minecraft). Do you think it's peak goth vibes? No. Just wait.

Anyway dead Elves land there, and btw they can die only by getting killed with weapons, or of grief. Hunger, cold etc aren't lethal to them? Probably? Anyway then Mandos judges them and they wait for an appointed time in dreams of memories (no mention of torture or general unpleasantness, it's just gloomy) and are reborn. In their descendants.

And now we get to Fui, and it's... A lot.

She's the wife of Mandos, her job is "the distilling of salt humors whereof are tears", and black, weblike(!) clouds of "despair and hopeless mourning (!!), sorrows and blind grief".

She's basically uNienna with a touch of Ungoliant... But that's not all.

Her hall is bigger and darker than her husband's, and lit with a single coal. The walls and pillars are basalt and the roof is made of bats' wings. This is peak goth interior design.

Oh, and she judges the Men after they die (!?!) and now it gets funny, because the part about Men leaving Arda went away for a holiday, and in this chapter they get a in-Arda afterlife, which is a mix of various mythologies.

Some stay in Mandos, which is the most normal thing.

some she drives forth beyond the hills and Melko sizes then and bears then to Angamandi, or the Hells of Iron, where they have evil days.

Ok. So.

The Valar actually, officially send some spirits of Men to Melko, because, idk, justice? I wonder if he ever thanks Fui for that.

Generally, in BoLT Melko seems much more... Accepted? Fitting into the world? I'm not sure how to call it. More in place there.

Fui is scary and I hate her. Well ok, I don't hate her more than Melko... No, wait. I do. Sorry. Characters whose evil is not acknowledged by the narrative get a different treatment. 😠

I love the phrase "they have evil days"

So, back to the afterlife mess for Men. Some are send in a black ship with black sable sails to plains from which a little bit of Taniquetil is visible, and I think this is meant to be the winning option???!?!? They camp there and sung a little bit and wait for the end of the world.

Ok, there's another, better option: some lucky few are brought by proto-Eonwë to Valmar and party with the Valar. And wait for the end of the world.

As I said, this thing is a mess.

Makar and Meásse build their own house without Aulë (why? It's not said why. I guess they didn't like him), sided only by their we-don't-call-them-Maiar-yet.

It's grim, and made of iron and full of noise and fighting and booze. No Valar visit then except Tulkas, who doesn't like them (or them him), but he needs to keep fit.

Their house is full of weapons and shields, and lit with torches, and we get a mention of red torchlight reflected in naked swords, which I suppose Tolkien liked, because we'll get one in the film too, at the oath of Feanor.

And that's it, now for the chapter notes.

So, Christopher Tolkien days that Elves dying only from wounds or grief is canon even in the Silm. (This would explain why Maglor throwing himself into the sea did not work, also makes him look somewhat stupid 😁 but it's rather have Maglor stupid and alive than dead.)

[mushgloomz]

Dead of Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader Series WIP

• an: SCREAM i can’t believe people actually READ the first chapter?? i just wanna say i love y’all and also there will be a smidgen of smut in the next chapter (but between who? oooooh) to get your tastebuds a-tingling. i will confess before we go any further that as i write this i am very much basing additional character’s appearances on my irl friends (with their consent) because i simply cannot imagine faces <3

• chapter warnings: language, weapons mentioned (guns, knives), threats of violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of pregnancy/motherhood (not mc), brief mention of drinking

• wc: approx. 2.5k (i told you they’d start getting longer y’all)

Chapter 2: Confrontation

You were on autopilot. Sable sprung into a canter beneath you and carried you toward the pair, rifle not leaving your shoulder. Alex, as expected, had lost all sense of bravado as he followed your lead, dropping back several feet to fumble with his own gun.

As you made your ascent up the valley, the pair before you came into a hazy focus - one considerably smaller than the other, childlike in stature but with a disconcerting stillness in the hands above their head. The larger figure was tall and broad, hands also raised but no higher than waist height; almost definitely armed. “Weapons at your feet where I can see them!”, you echoed as you continued to close the distance. You hoped the fear coursing through your veins wasn’t detectable in your tone.

Two guns and a small switchblade were discarded at the feet of the pair, now entirely in focus before you. Their eyes never left yours as you stood a mere ten feet ahead, rifle still poised and ready in case they decided to try anything. You observed them, taking in their features.

The girl, no older than fifteen years if you had to guess, had mousy brown hair thrown haphazardly into a low ponytail. A scar split her right eyebrow, and her eyes, so dark they almost appeared black, stared right through you. Her clothing was stained and aged; a long-sleeved army-brown undershirt paired with a maroon and white plaid shirt, worn open over the top. Blue denim jeans covered her legs, patched up in certain areas with duct tape. She remained expressionless, which was all the more disconcerting considering her current position at the end of your barrel.

The man’s expression on the other hand was full of contempt as brown eyes bore straight into yours. Loose brown curls peppered with streaks of silver sat atop his head, matching his moustache and patchy facial hair. His face, lined from time, deepest between his brows from what you could only imagine was a lifetime of scowling at people much like yourself.

He’d not uttered a word, remaining tight-lipped the entire time - a part of you wished he would speak; wished he would express some indication of humanity behind his unfaltering gaze. A gaze, you realised, that harbored a concoction of emotion far beyond the film of resentment they currently held. Scar tissue adorned his right temple; his bottom lip split but not swollen, perhaps serving as reminders of hard-earned victories.

“What are you doing here?”, you queried, trying to maintain an authoritative tone despite your now shallow breathing. Why did it feel like you were the one under trial? Hooves crunching on churned earth and debris behind you alerted you to the fact that Alex had finally decided to resume his position as your patrol partner. You’d forgotten he was here to be honest; he’d never been so quiet, so meek and reserved. Your question remained unanswered. You cocked your rifle, swallowing hard, and went to repeat yourself before the girl spoke, nudging the man at her side with her elbow as she hissed.

“Joel, fucking say something man.”

The man, Joel, remained unwavering in his silence, scowl deepening. His eyes never left yours. “I’ll only ask once more before I put one between your eyes, what the fuck are you doing here?”, you breathed, hugging the hilt of the gun to your shoulder and cheek. Any suggestion that you weren’t scared had certainly left, your delivery shaky. In the silence that followed, your index finger creeped slowly toward the trigger.

“Wait… did you say Joel? As in, Tommy’s brother Joel?”

Alex’s voice had returned, catching you off guard as your finger retreated from the trigger to glance ever-so briefly at your partner who had now appeared at your side. Tommy has a brother? Your eyes dart back to the pair, a salt-and-pepper eyebrow now raised in Alex’s direction.

///

The pair walked a few feet ahead of you as Alex explained himself on your way back to the gates of Jackson. It had taken some persuasion on Alex’s part, but you had lowered your gun eventually.

“Essentially, this Joel guy rocks up with the kid, Ellie I think? There’s some big reunion in the square between him and Tommy or whatever, and come the following afternoon, they were gone. Tommy said he was returning her to her family, but clearly he’s fucked that one up…”

Joel peered over his shoulder at Alex, who was all too oblivious to the daggers being thrown his way by the man ahead of him. Apparently, the pair had shown up all but two months before you had. You’d assumed they were father and daughter at first. A pang of concern that left your mouth dry washed over you when you considered the fact that Joel may have been smuggling Ellie, but the teen seemed decidedly at ease in his presence, so the thought didn’t linger for long.

Approaching the wooden gates, a group stood in front of the doors, one holding the same dog that had determined your own fate a few months prior. Tommy stood amongst them, distinct with his dark black hair and double denim getup. He took the dog from its handler and walked toward Joel and Ellie with his usual swagger, pausing to let the animal assess them but never loosening his grip on its leash.

Maybe Joel was his brother after all; Tommy seemed intent on not letting the dog get too close, perhaps out of fear that he’d watch the man be mauled before his very own eyes. The dog settled shortly after its greeting, sitting at Tommy’s heels to indicate that the pair were indeed not infected.

A brief one-armed hug between the two men ensued, followed by a gentle nod to Ellie. The gates were opened after the brief interaction, and you followed the group toward the town square. A huddled mass of bodies hovered around, each person itching to catch a glimpse at the cause of such a commotion. Deja vu clouded your mind temporarily, thoughts flashing back to the crowd of spectators as you made your own entrance just a few months prior. As Joel and Ellie neared, hurried whispers were exchanged between neighbours and friends alike.

“He’s brought her back? I hope she’s okay?”

“Another person to keep an eye on I ‘spose, you heard ‘bout what he used to do to folk like us when he was smugglin’?”

“He’s so far removed from Tommy, there’s not a shred of kindness in that man - you can see it in his eyes.”

You didn’t know what to think as you continued at a measured pace behind the group. What did the Joel character do to people? It was well known that there were no saints amongst us post-outbreak - people did what they had to do in order to survive; what could possibly be so heinous to warrant such a reaction?

Shaking the thought from your head, you glance at Alex who was now deep in a rather animated conversation with Tommy. He flagged you down and beckoned you over to join the two.

“Alex told me about how it all went down out there, glad y’all are alright. Perimeter sweep ought to be done by now anyway, so feel free to go about your day - oh, and Maria asked to speak with you if you wanna head her way.”

Tommy nodded at you as he rounded off his sentence, his voice holding tightly onto the last dregs of a southern twang from his time in Texas. You nod in acknowledgment, throw a quick see ya at Alex, and turn toward the Miller household.

///

It was located at the far end of town, nestled between adjacent homes and facing the town hall. Tommy had always claimed the house’s location was ideal for raising the child Maria was carrying due to the peace and quiet, but you weren’t a fool. You knew well enough it was because Maria, despite being fit to bursting with their unborn baby, was too stubborn and strong-willed to temporarily relieve herself of her position on the town council, and instead had decided to simply minimise the effort required to participate. You often caught her in a near-waddle stepping from her front porch and almost directly into the doors of the town hall.

The house was much larger than your own; not something you begrudged at all, considering the Miller’s status both within the town and as a soon-to-be family unit. White shutters adorned the windows, and a rocking chair rested on the porch - you couldn’t help but envision Maria coaxing a tiny newborn back to sleep whilst gently swaying back and forth whenever you saw it. You’d personally never considered having children; you felt less than capable of taking care of yourself most days, and more to the point, you feared a day would come where you’d have to protect them, and that you would fail. You breached the steps of the porch shortly after curtailing your self-inflicted pity party and rapped your knuckles against the door.

“Door’s open, I’m not getting up again.”

Muffled by layers of wood and brick, Maria’s voice granted you entry as you stepped through the doorway and turned left into the lounge. Maria sat slumped in a plush leather armchair with her back to you, belly swollen to such an extent that you questioned whether she could actually make it another few weeks without physically popping. Her head lulled over the back of the chair, long box braids nearly reaching the paisley rug on the floor beneath. By the disgruntled expression on her face, you could only assume that she too was unsure of how she was supposed to make it five more weeks in this condition.

“Hey doll, thanks for swinging by. Come sit.”

A small smile crept across the woman’s face as you perched on the sofa. You hesitated before asking, “Everything alright? Tommy sent me over, did you know his brother-“

“Joel is the exact reason you’re here right now. Thought I’d fill you in on the essentials since I doubt any of these boys have given you the courtesy.”

Relief washed over you as Maria adjusted herself in her seat, groaning under her breath and leather squeaking, as she positioned herself upright and facing you.

She looked at you with soft eyes, both kindness and reassurance emanating off of her, just like she always did. You were taken under her wing when you had arrived, skittish and afraid, like a puppy that had just been scolded for the first time. She had been the one to ensure your name was added to the fortnightly rotation of therapy sessions hosted by Helen; she had been able to tell you were troubled from her first impression of you, and had acted with nothing but grace and goodwill regardless. You smiled at her and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“You’re going to hear a lot of things about Joel Miller these coming weeks - some of them will be no more than rumours, but some will be truths. To start, Joel is a dangerous man…”

Oh. This was not where you were expecting this to go. “How so?”, your words tumbling out in an unintended interruption.

“He’s killed people. Lots of them. Not just infected, not just ‘bad guys’ - all in the name of protecting his own. I can’t sit here and say that all of it was unjust, but that young girl with him? She wasn’t meant to return to Jackson. I don’t know what’s occurred since they’ve been gone, but I can only guess that Joel had something to do with it being the pair of them that came back today.”

Her words hung in the air, pungent as she condemned the actions of a man that had committed the same sins as yourself. Your stomach knotted with unease, breath hitching in your throat. Would you receive the same scrutiny, the same level of disdain, if you were to reveal your own actions? “So… don’t engage?”, you offer, attempting to break the uneasy silence you had allowed to fall between the both of you.

“Joel is a complex man. He’s blunt and he’s withdrawn, but he’s not an inherently bad person. I… I just can’t sit here and condone the extent of his past actions, and I can’t offer reassurance that he’s a changed man either. I’d advise a wide berth, but I know there’s no changing the will of others.”

Maria shoots a playful wink in your direction as the last words leave her mouth. You catch it with a small smirk, acknowledging her hint to your own previous disagreements - after all, you had been a massive pain in the ass for the woman.

“Thank you Maria, I really do appreciate the heads up. Now, I best return my rifle before someone accuses me of stealing it again; you take it easy okay?”, the smile on Maria’s face mirroring your own as you took to your feet, planting a peck on her cheek before heading toward the door.

You stood on the porch and collected yourself for a time; replenishing your lungs with air that your anxiety had denied you during your chat. Despite her best efforts, Maria’s warning had left you with more questions than answers. Taking off in the direction of the armory, you decided your current conundrum would be best resolved with company and a drink in hand; the town’s bar practically calling your name.

[lilyofporcelain]

Servility - Part II

[Part I]

The missive delivered into her hand containing her house’s seal left her on edge. As she stood in the kitchen, she thought about what time it was. Still dark outside. A little chilly. She’d been unable to sleep. Most nights were becoming that, in truth. Lack of sleep. Lack of appetite. In the early hours of a morning not yet touched by daylight, Laeynna had put her practising to the test. She didn’t know what Andaeros had ahead of him, had no intention of asking, and feared the answer if she did anyway. Whatever it was planning to greet him, she decided the least she could do was make him breakfast, which was precisely how she’d spent those earlier hours.

Eyeing the counter where she left it for him—a collection of things she knew he liked, she finished seeing to the dishes, and penning the short and concise note she’d planned to leave. With her own letter in hand, she paused in the bedroom, taking a moment or two to watch him, and admire him with a soft gaze, as he slept, unable to help wondering what it was he dreamt about. If he dreamt at all. Perhaps of older days. Darker days. Days that made him the man he was in the present. Just looking at him, she felt conflicted. How nice it might have been to stay and yet how evident it was that she couldn’t. 

Setting it down in the very place he normally woke to her in, Laeynna dipped and she pressed the most feather-light of kisses atop his temple. How many more times would she have to do that? Despite her aching wants, she did not think there would be many, but perhaps that was for the best. Maybe she would be wrong. She so badly wanted to be proven wrong. Quietly, she turned to leave, closing his bedroom door in part, leaving it open by only a touch.

Laeynna gathered herself, taking a breath outside, and with her letter in hand, she set out.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Pale blonde and silver had begun to show itself as it did on occasion and Laeynna had admittedly waited longer than she should have to tend to it. It was not usually an outing she shared with others and many in her life, past and perhaps even present, had always thought her hair to naturally be as dark as sable. Of course, within the last year, most of the faces that had been a part of her life knew better. Laeynna was a woman of moonlight from head to toe. The morning hours would see at least the head to be rectified. Moonlit hair belonged to the name that was, once more, no longer hers.

When the sun had already risen in that fair afternoon, she had been, at least by physical appearances, whole again. Instead of returning to the apartment, she found herself seated at a tavern, an atlas beneath her fingertips and the letter she’d finally had the courage to open after a few too many glasses of Suntouched Reserve.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Zinnvais, Find your way to the estate in three days’ time for afternoon tea. If you fail to show, you will not take the liberty of writing again, for indeed, your correspondence shall find itself tasted by flame. Sincerely, L.R. Luridveil

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

She’d laughed the first time she read it, though that was likely an immediate reply caused by the drink that sloshed about in her head. There was, in fact, nothing at all amusing about the way he’d responded. Of course, she supposed it was nice that he’d responded at all. She supposed it was also nice that he hadn’t seen fit to berate her, though she imagined that he was simply saving all of that for the ‘three days’ time’ that he gave her. Was it too much to hope that she’d arrive on the family lands and she wouldn’t be greeted by cold, penetrating stares?

Unrealistic, at best.

Still giggling to herself in a most inappropriate way, she only fixed herself when she nearly knocked over her glass. Restraining ill-placed humour, Laeynna straightened her posture, an equally misplaced smile tugging at her mouth, as if she simply couldn’t help herself. She looked it over once more, that same writing she had been so keen to emulate in her younger years. Still flowing and perfect, just like the book she carried written in his hand.

Freeing a quiet snort, she folded the letter back up, index fingertip tracing over its seal. As she was putting it aside, her attention was drawn onto the presence at her table, so distant from the entrance and deliberately chosen in a rather quiet corner where she had incorrectly suspected she would not be disturbed. There she found the unimpressed server, a woman who looked as if Laeynna was probably not the first drunkard she’d had for the day and likely wouldn’t be the last.

“Can I get you anything? Bread? Cheese?”

There was wisdom in both of those things, but Laeynna was deaf to wisdom. She lifted a hand and shook her head. “More wine.” A lack of wisdom piled atop another lack of wisdom. Met with a sigh of unsolicited resignation, the server was waved away and Laeynna’s attention turned onto the atlas she’d procured.

Not Quel’thalas. That much was certain. It was her home, of course, when one considered a home at its most simple term. She’d been born and raised there. Had lived a good deal of her life there before the exile. Had not planned on coming back and had it not been for Ashire’s estate, his reclamation, or the information he had on her, she would not have stayed. Of course, so many things had not gone as she’d anticipated, so it was not terribly surprising that one more fell through her hands and she wound up somewhere she didn’t expect to be. Life certainly was all about expecting the unexpected, it seemed.

Durotar was too dusty and arid for her tastes. The Wetlands were… well. Wet. Val’sharah seemed promising. Flora everywhere. Getting to it would be difficult, but that, perhaps, wasn’t the worst thing, considering her situation. She wondered what the likelihood was of even being able to establish a residence there. Would her father know? She couldn’t wait to have that discussion with him. It wasn’t hard to imagine the sharpening of his gaze as he pursued a line of questioning involving answers Laeynna did not want to give or explain.

When she found her wine glass full again, she idly traced her fingertip about its rim, leaning onto her other arm in thought. Then she took it into hand and wasted very little time in draining it to half, coveting the fuzzy way it embraced her and tickled her insides. Made her think of younger years and stiff galas where she drank to avoid people. Where she drowned herself to forget those nights and those eyes and those words and everything else that they’d come with. Her gaze was dull, fixed on the deep red that lapped up against the interior of the glass, a moment’s distaste pulling at her mouth. It lasted a moment, replaced by a thought that was so preposterous that it immediately made her angry and amused all at the same time.

Suppose I stayed with Velios?

A terrible idea. She couldn’t stand him and was relatively certain he only tolerated her. Some referred to them as ‘friends’ and without doubt he’d escorted her here and there back when she’d needed an escape from the Larethmyr estate, but what had brought them together was rivalry and really very little else. Except perhaps the strange and bizarre… whatever it was he had going on with her sister. She also had no idea where the man lived. She didn’t even want to know.

Laeynna laughed again, a sharp little bark that betrayed the bitterness underneath it. No way. Probably. Good for a moment’s humour but nothing more, sharp and pointed as it was.

Leaning back in her chair, she found herself staring at the atlas. A whole world in front of her and she didn’t know where to go. Should have just thrown the pretty poignard Andaeros had gifted her for Winterveil at it and went to wherever it landed. But if she did that, she could just see her luck panning out and keeping her near Silvermoon, which was the last place she felt welcome. That wasn’t wholly true, of course, and a part of her seemed to know it, but the guilt was still so powerful and so intense that despite trying to put it aside, every time circumstance presented itself, it swallowed her right back up again. And it wasn’t just the circumstance. Without even knowing it, Andaeros had drastically added to it and she waged war with herself nearly every day to crush it down. She was going to break eventually, but at the very least, when she did, she could do so where no one who mattered would see. Like the tavern, as she saw fit to drink herself into an early grave.

She sighed. She needed a distraction. A real distraction. Could have gone back down to Silverpine to check on progress and things there, but she didn’t want that. There were some striking memories there that would only make things worse and exacerbate her feelings. 

Succulent Tart was having a gala, weren’t they? The idea could have been enjoyable. Would have been, even. She enjoyed watching the performances and testing the boundaries and comforts of her largely reserved demeanour. But following a breath, she realised she couldn’t do that either. After she’d found out what was happening, what had happened, that Andaeros’ past was not some faceless entity she’d not have to regularly compare herself to or contend with, After Dark had been an immense mistake on her part.

The worst part about that was that she wasn’t a horrible, heartless woman, hadn’t been one intentionally. Yet she certainly felt like one. And logically, there was no way for her to have known. Yet like so many other things, logic had, at least in the present, been overpowered by wine.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed. If she was hated, it wasn’t like there wasn’t a reason to do so. No. Almost certainly she’d be there. Laeynna definitely couldn’t go. She would have to find something different. In the same way that she’d have to spend the next however many hours winding herself down from the proverbial tub of fermented grapes she’d bathed herself in. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to his apartment and have to explain herself.

Or maybe she’d just stay at the inn for a day or two. Except that wasn’t going to work either. No matter how she spun it there were going to be questions. She’d have to speak sometime. She just couldn’t imagine it would matter whenever she did. She had to wonder at what point things would get better. Surely, they would.

She hoped they would. She had so many hopes and wondered how many of them were breaking in those moments she breathed.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Mature Rated Fics Masterlist (72)

Part 1 - Part 65 / Part 66 / Part 67 / Part 68 / Part 69 / Part 70 / Part 71 /

Created: May 24th, 2024

Last Checked:------

Drumming in My Head-oh_so_loverly (ao3) Summary: Annie wakes up in the Capitol after the Quell. (That never ends well.) Fort, House, Home-papofglencoe (ao3) Summary: Two single parents find a way to make their house a home. A Modern AU FuckBuddies-Peetabreadgirl (ao3) Summary: Exactly what the title says. Just read it. Ghosts (I'm still in mourning)-oh_so_loverly (ao3) Summary: Letting yourself be sold is not easy. They never said that helping sell someone else is worse. In which Finnick is (sometimes) a jerk and Annie is (sort of) a mess and they (try to) make it through her first year as a Victor. In a Flash-papofglencoe (ao3) Summary: Kat is a Capitol fashion designer with a secret past. In the wake of a high-profile engagement, she returns to her home in District 12 to confront her ghosts. There she discovers that, while you can take the girl out of the Seam, you can never really take the Seam out of the girl. Proxima-papofglencoe, SeeMaree (ao3) Summary: I paint her as I imagine her, with the gray eyes of a distant star and the sable hair of an endless night. I cloak her in the fire of my sun, and I fall into her beauty, letting her consume me. As the light of the sun flits across the canvas, she almost looks real. shoot straight-oakfarmer (ao3) Summary: 1. can't catch a break... or a pie *In Panem AU 2. frozen leap *Post Mockingjay 3. fleeing flowers *Post Mockingjay 4. crazy cat *Post Mockingjay Crack 5. peeta davidson *In Panem AU Crack 6. connecting with nature *Post Mockingjay 7. a thousand +101 word slow burn *In Panem AU 8. a picture’s worth a thousand +101 words *Fic Art 9. anything but goodbye *Canon Compliant 10. the pardon *Post Mockingjay The Effect You Have on Me-Peetabreadgirl (ao3) Summary: Peeta Mellark is an engaged man. He shouldn’t be booking time with a call girl, no matter how innocent his intentions are, but her haunting silver eyes won’t let him leave her alone. The Hob-Pikelet184 (ao3) Summary: You'll find in 'The Hob' a collection of drabbles/one shots that I originally wrote and posted on tumblr. When We Were Young-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: The assignment was easy. Falling in love with the target was not. Modern AU. Assassin!Katniss

[darthkvznblogs]

Does Symkaria exist in the KVerse? What's it like to have Doom as neighbor?

Silver Sable has to come from somewhere, haha.

Doom is still presenting himself as a "benevolent dictator" sort, so there's no real conflict between Latveria and its neighbors...yet. I can't imagine they miss the writing on the wall, though - it's only a matter of time before Victor von Doom decides Latveria's success should be shared with the world - the hard way.

[bright-tatters]

Tatters #28

Mia Dynam and her sister Dana tried to keep all six of their tween students close. Somehow the school’s superintendent had negotiated to send this grouping – a strange assortment, but Mia couldn’t help but notice that they were the brightest and most active minds of the Travail school system – with a Central school’s outing to the Parthenon, the vast building where resided the government of Photia.

The superintendent had contacts with the real powers in Travail, and for once Mia felt something other than fear and frustration about them. The Parthenon was a building that beggared imagination, a golden geometric sphere drawn by a thousand triangles. A minaret on one side was crowned by a sable eagle on a shining perch.

The tour guide spoke above the incessant traffic on the front steps. “Maria the Sunrise Maiden is a central figure in the histories of Photia. She led the White Guard to victory against the original settlement and helped solidify the monarchy as the ruling system that serves us to this day. The Parthenon is literally the building of the Maiden.”

“Les-bi-an,” stage-whispered one of Mia’s flock, to general snickering. She shushed him.

The group was a bunch of Centralters and six Travailers. The Centralters moved in a loose tide, thirty or more of them with chaperons sprinkled among. They cast curious looks at the Travail children but didn’t mix. Someday they should, someday they must.

They passed through high white hallways that had vaulted ceilings studded with jewel-like windows. Mia let Dana trail; her sister was really only here because two chaperons were a condition of the project. Meanwhile, up front, Mia wanted to point out everything at once. They passed up a great curving stairway into an open space with red carpet and gleaming clear windows.

“We’re coming close to the Chamber of Law,” said the tour guide. “The Council of Light sits in session here to hear petitions and form them into laws for the whole country. The King has veto power, but during our magnificent Tinker King’s reign he has only vetoed six bills.” He started pointing at tall fluted pillars set around the vast space. Lifelike white figures stood at each one’s base. “Each Ward in Photia has one representative in the Council.”

A Centralter child turned around and snickered at Mia. She felt Audrey beside her leaning forward. “Audrey,” Mia said gently. “We have a representative, too.”

“He sucks,” muttered Audrey.

“We should respect our elected officials. That’s how the city gets along. Come, let’s look at the statues by the pillars. There’s one historic Councilor from each Ward around the room.”

*

Audrey was bored.

She had read books in elementary school that described Photia, its history and governance. She aced quizzes on Photia’s government and had a solid sixty percent without studying on history. When she was eight she’d received a giant book with pictures of the highlights of Centralter architecture, from the spiky stars of the original build to the asymmetrical curves of the latest fashion. Over time, styles faded and melted. It had taught her one thing: in a hundred years Photia’s face would be totally different but for a few corners for tour guides to explain.

So basically, there was nothing new here.

Audrey cast a look at the statues of dead people and directed her steps down a narrow corridor into a dim intersection. Someone was walking toward her, looking absorbed in a notebook.

Audrey didn’t back down, and the woman didn’t correct course. Centralter arrogance. Of course. “Hey!” she said. “Watch it!”

The woman looked up. She was dark-skinned and resplendent in crisp formal wear: laced boots, snug trousers, a red tunic embroidered with vertical arrays of lines, and one hand almost lost in silver chains from bracelet to finger rings. Her hair was done up in a bun. It was black and silver. An old woman showing her age off instead of dyeing into fashion.

She stopped, regarding Audrey with small, shining black eyes. “My dear young lady, this is a restricted area. I can fail to watch ‘it’ any time I want.” She squinted. “Ah, but you’re not in this particular area for a lesson. Are you here to observe chamber deliberations?”

“Who are you?”

[mlp410nightcore]

Hi Everyone!! Here is another next gen for my Blossom Love AU. Katrina's parents are Silver Sable and Will Mackenzie. Katrina is very tough and is always there to protect her family and friends. She also knows almost every single form of physical combat imaginable and is not afraid to use them when anyone she cares about is threatened. Katrina currently works alongside her mother in her mother's company, Sable International. She's also very intelligent and can invent tons of gadgets and can hack any computer. Credit goes to Selenaede for the base I used and to Sony Interactive Entertainment, Insomniac Games, Marvel and Hinterland Studios for creating The Spiderman PS4 Video Game and The Long Dark as well as creating the characters, Silver Sable and Will Mackenzie as well as creating the company Sable International as well. I only take credit for my next gens, art, ships, stories and the Blossom Love AU. I hope you guys like her!!!

[dreamcrow]

Hellouu dream!! Good aftermoon! ^^

How are you today?? I hope you are good hihi :3

Sooo.. I have a little question that has been on my mind ever since I saw your art..

•I wanted to know more about the relationship between bellroc and them familiar dragon (I don't know if that's the term...)

•how did bellroc kill him??

•how did he meet this Dragon?

•Skrael already knew about all this??

(I know.. it's more than one question.. but I was curious...) byeeee!!👋👋 have a nice dayyy :3

kitty you are so sweet. thank you for indulging me and my little headcanons; i hope the ramblings that follow were as fun to read as they were to imagine.

what is a familiar? it comes from the same root as "family," but in classical latin familia generally means the *slaves* of a household (hence the english sense, used elsewhere in toa, of "a magical servant"). which isn't why i headcanon that bellroc wears their familiar's skull, by the way, though it would probably add to their general bemusement at modern magic-users' concept of the relationship. i've had this headcanon for such a long time, now, but despite wanting very badly to write something about it i've never actually gotten anything to a publishable state. (the one thing i have written recently about this is currently. 100-odd words of snippy banter/[INSERT SCENE-SETTING HERE], which feels like it doesn't quite count.) so. some bullet points, while i kick around some thoughts in the microwave of the mind.

yes, bellroc killed their familiar. they did not know that's what she was. they did not mean to do it.

azherin was a giant fuckoff dragon, the distillation of everything stories say dragons should be: vain, cunning, arrogant, unfathomably powerful. because it's my oc and my hc and therefore everything is based on my terrible taste, she is (mostly) feathered, and breathes silver fire (and occasionally lightning). she's also got a wife and kids but god if we fall down that rabbithole i really will never get to bed

the first time they see her, a slip of oil-black bleeding up from the edge of the sky, they feel a flash of some vague, fleeting connection. they wonder what it is, just for a moment, before (they think) they realize: the old familiar coil of fear, twisting to settle bright and lazy into their gut. they think she's smoke, from a particularly vicious wildfire.

when they find out what she actually is—for the first time since dying, in a particularly vicious wildfire—they think on how how strange it is, at this age, to find something they may fear more than that.

(the thought of "a familiar" never occurs to them. to either of them. bellroc never knew magic before receiving it violently and unexpectedly; skrael has heard of magic users with companions of varying sorts but if he's ever seen one, it's only been a mundane-looking creature like a bird or a sable marten. they wouldn't know the word as we use it now, and probably don't, for a long time.)

but bellroc does by now know magic, and by now knows it very well. always conscious that their mastery is earned—that they've had to work for it—but conscious that they are a master, all the same. they're the only person in the world to wear so much (or any) metal jewelry, let alone have a metal staff almost as tall as them. they might not quite openly think of themself as a god—yet—but they are certainly thinking about gods and godhood as a general concept, much more than they did while within the span of a normal human lifetime. they think about power, sure, about improving their craft, about impressing a certain someone, improving their lives; but also duty, obligation, right.

so when they find out a literal dragon is going around terrorizing defenseless human towns—well. they'll catch the devil from skrael later, for being so reckless. but in the moment, they protest: what else could they do?

as it turns out: even the most op of magical cavemen does not simply 1v1 a giant flying murderlizard.

especially one that can breathe lightning.

especially when their primary weapon is a giant metal stick.

skrael meanwhile is watching all of this—what. rivalry? folie à deux? he's been having odd dreams lately, infrequent, but insistent and recurrent, from his own yet-unknown familiar/skull source, which maybe is making him less charitable than he could be. but after watching bellroc definitely get their ass kicked and definitely be way more torn up about it than he'd expected: when they notice him being so dubious he must admit, he is perplexed. he understands bellroc's stated reasons for why they (tried to) intervene, that first time; it would be a terrible thing, he agrees, to find yourself in a town that a dragon has now decided is her personal pantry. but terrible shit happens all the time. however admirable it may be to try and stop it (and he does think it's admirable, because he's a sap) he is always, at heart, a pessimist.

even if you could have saved that one village—he means it gently, even if it doesn't quite come out right—you know she'll just move on to another.

and bellroc blanches. for the first time in a long time: they have a (small, but) serious fight.

because—bellroc's perspective is: they have all this power. all of this life, after dying, terribly; all of this magic, after a life of nothing of the kind. perhaps one mortal effort would make no difference; perhaps, even now, their effort would not tip the balance. as it certainly did not in that hill-town, they mutter, bitterly.

but they are no mortal, now. what's the good of having this power, if they don't even use it?

anyway bellroc and azherin end up running into each other 6-7 times. the last time, azherin just loses her shit at this insolent, interfering child:

(please excuse the clumsiness here; this must be from. good god. twenty twenty-one)

...which ends predictably (though maybe not entirely so). and when skrael finds them, after, then he really lets them have it.

[redhead-reporter]

— character info sheet.

name: mary jane "mj" watson parker

name meaning: mary (hebrew: "drop of the sea", beloved) jane (hebrew: "god is gracious"), watson (english/scottish: "son of watt", "powerful ruler")

alias/es: mj, red, and every conceivable pet name in the english language

ethnicity: american, british isles heritage (ireland, scotland, england, etc)

one picture you like best of your chara:

three h/cs you never told anyone:

mj has a multi-step SKIN CARE ROUTINE that she follows every single morning and night. doesn't matter if she's crawling into bed drunk at 2 AM or waking up at the ass crack of dawn, she does it. if you're dating her? say goodbye to your bathroom counter space.

mj sat at aunt may's bedside the ENTIRE time that peter was out trying to defeat otto and get the devil's breath cure. she let miles handle running the F.E.A.S.T center, since she couldn't imagine herself anywhere else and knew peter would WANT someone to stay with her. they talked about everything and nothing, and before she died may reiterated how much she HOPED that mj and peter would work things out. (and yes, she mentioned the 'beautiful babies' thing to mj, who AGREED)

mj has thrown out several of peter's shirts once they got unforgivably ratty and and pretended like she didn't know what happened to them. of course she always bought him REPLACEMENTS, but if new york's greatest hero has ever suspected her of the crime? he's never been able to PROVE it.

three things your character likes doing in their free time: 

TRASHY. REALITY. TV - specifically dating shows like love is blind, 90 day fiancé (and all of its variants), and the ultimatum. she finds them hilarious, and they're frankly a fascinating look into human PSYCHOLOGY. but they also serve a selfish secondary purpose of making her feel really SMUG about her own relationship and how much healthier/better it is than anything on the shows, even on their worst days.

mj is a new yorker who LOVES her city - if she's got spare time she likes to wander in neighborhoods she doesn't know that well, finding cool local restaurants or little street fairs to get lost in. anything to feel like she's part of the city's HEARTBEAT

mj still has a deep love for the THEATER, even if she chose a different career path for herself. whenever there's enough time and spare cash laying around (which is rare) she likes to go see shows. on or off broadway, doesn't matter - she just likes BEING there when the lights go down and the magic begins

eight people your character likes / loves:

peter parker - soulmate is too weak a word ❤️ peter is her everything

great aunt anna - mj credits her with saving her life as a child

harry osborn - best friend, voice of reason, shoulder she cries on

miles morales - surrogate little brother, "team" member, a godsend

gwen stacey - chaotic gremlin bestie / girlfriend / liability

cindy moon - bestie, fellow wine time enthusiast, gossip gal par excellence

aunt may - family, inspirational figure, beloved and missed every day

silver sable - bestie (terrifying), badass, gifted her (when she realized she was never getting it back) the TASER

two things your character regrets:

breaking up with peter instead of TALKING things through like adults - though they both grew immensely in their time apart and learned valuable lessons from it, she can't get over how they wasted so much PRECIOUS time together that they'll never get back.

not paying better attention to her best friend when he NEEDED her most - harry can be a good liar when he wants to be (hi have you met his dad?), but mj's convinced she WOULD'VE noticed his accelerating illness if she'd stopped being so self-centered and taken the time to really clock his odd behavior before he left for "europe". if he hadn't returned? she NEVER would've forgiven herself.

one phobia your character has:

peter's death. that's it, that's the FEAR. it claws at her every single day, so much so that she can't even watch live news footage of his fights. people treat it like a SPORTING EVENT, cheering like a real person's life isn't literally on the line, and it makes her sick.

[multi-muse-transect]

After playing Spider-Man PS4, I can’t help but imagine Daisy Ridley playing Silver Sable.

[kodokmogok]

How long have you been stuck with all these undone feelings? Those incomplete stories don't need to be completed. Brokenness always be your pathway.

"I’ve been carrying these feelings for a while—maybe too long—but they've become a part of me, guiding me in ways I’m only starting to understand. Sometimes I feel like I’m holding onto an incomplete story, but maybe it's not about finishing it. Maybe it's about learning from it, letting it be a part of my path forward, even if it’s a little broken."

"I like to think that maybe somewhere, in another universe, things worked out between us. The timing, circumstances, and feelings all came together, and we’re happy together, just the way I imagined. Even though I can’t reach that world, just picturing it helps me hold onto the dream without getting caught up in the limits of reality.

Sometimes, thinking this way brings me a little peace. It reminds me that the love I feel is real, even if it didn’t work out here. And maybe that energy, that love, can still shape my life now, opening doors to new possibilities and connections."

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

Shakespeare’s sonnet 12:

“When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; When I do scann the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; When I do scann the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard; When I do scared All my life I wait, until the time."