#so just imagine that they are accurate to the times

[waynes-multiverse]

Welp, I'm cozied up with my tea (and rum), baby's asleep, husband is watching LOTR, so I've got some reading time. Merry Christmas (to me) 😂🎄🥃

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Jesus's birthday! We're jumping right into this, and a bullet flying past your head while you're bloody and running through the woods is horrifying 😳

Hoping the boys are close 🤍

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

Yes, girl!!!!!

She's such a badass! Russell would be so proud of her 🥹

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.” “It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

I snorted so hard 😂😂 Such an accurate Colter moment again 🤍

I loved their little bonding/teasing moment while searching too 🥹

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

She is so damn cute 😆💕

I'm glad it all worked out and both Charlie and her are okay. Colter watching them with his little secret smile was so adorable too. My heart is full 😭🥹❤️

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder.

Dead. I just love her 😂

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

Damn Charlie... Love yourself a little more, buddy 😅❤️‍🩹

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Ooof, I love that Russell is giving him some tough love. He gave him such sage advice too! Charlie sure needs to hear it, and I bet Russell will only too gladly make sure it sticks 😝

“Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

The Ken doll... I fucking can't with you today 🤣🤣 (The rum might also be kicking in lmao)

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way.

ALEX!!! 🤣🤣🤣

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Finally! I genuinely love how long it took him to catch on 😂

Loved this part! I'm glad Charlie's getting some help and these two finally decided to take the plunge ☺️ Can't wait to see what happens in the last part. I know they still have some things to figure out, but I can't imagine Russell wouldn't be willing to work on some sort of agreement 💚

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

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@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

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[snickerpuffs]

It is months after The King's defeat. The people of Vaugarde are learning of The Saviors and their journey, and are inspired. Playwrights in particular are very inspired, wishing to retell and pay tribute to the The Saviors' stories. Some try to condense the year of travel into a single three-act play. Others focus on snapshots of the journey, on particular trials or tribulations. One playwright focuses on the final two days. The brief rest in Mirabelle's hometown of Dormont, then the storming of the warped House of Change. The Saviors are strangely vague about these final two days. Something happened, in these final moments. Some grand twist, the playwright is sure, that made the victory seem tainted in some way. ...their mind struggles to imagine what could be so dire. What, after a year of adventure, could leave the end of their quest feeling so broken, failed, rotten? So, they do not write anything. *Something* begins to happen, that much is shown, before the curtains abruptly drop and the performance ends. A final note of mystery, to leave the audience pondering this unknown.

The acting troupe hired to perform this play are... unconventional. Passionate, they want to portray nothing but the most accurate picture of these heroes. They don't need to just mimic the Saviors, they need to become them. There exists an experimental form of mental Craft, that will allow them to temporarily reshape their minds into near-perfect replications of the Saviors. A few protest, finding such lengths in pursuit of a 'perfect' performance insane. But, the majority rules, and the entire troupe undergoes the procedure. Gone are the actors. Until the play's run is complete, there is only "Mirabelle", "Isabeau", "Odile", "Siffrin", and "Bonnie". Slowly, the Craft begins to fail. Slowly, all of them begin to notice the stage, and the audience outside of it. When they look in the mirror, their reflections become increasingly unrecognizable. They begin to remember the previous performances, and it feels, almost, as if they were looping in time....

[praparuru-ume]

I am obsessed with this art of Rhaenyra. She looks so real yet ehtereal at the same time. Still the atmosphere is almost eerie?

Her face, which looks so real, with no beauty standardization coming from our bias, yet she also looks sort of uncanny. She has the uncanny sort of beauty I would imagine Valyrians having and that I've rarely seen represented in fanarts, let alone official art. Or maybe it's not even uncanny, it's just us always thinking from our bias of what beauty is.

And thank the gods for her accurate body type for once.

And also her having the same hair texture people complained about her having on the show in certain scenes. Love that.

[xxnashiraxx]

✨Ali's Birthday Bash! #5✨

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Back again for one more!! I may have to interrupt my pattern and post a single portrait again tomorrow, but bear with me! I know you all have been wonderful and so very patient in these and I appreciate it so much- I may take a day off on Wednesday just because it's going to be hectic and a holiday, but I'll cross that bridge tomorrow and see how it looks!

divider here!

Bonnie (for @ladyduellist)

This portrait has been one of my FAVORITES so far!!!! I love love love westerns and when I heard that @ladyduellist was writing a cowboy Astarion fic, I was ON THAT. So far, two wonderful chapters are out with more on the way in the future, and if you haven't read Slip Away Today please go out of your way to!! It's wonderfully written, with insanely beautiful imagery and vocabulary that makes me feel like I'm sitting in a saloon in the old west!

I chose to draw Bonnie, and wow was this one so fun! You wouldn't think it from this art, but I hate drawing hats and I somehow conquered that bad streak here- I think! I loved drawing this!! Ahh! I hope she looks how you imagined, friend!!! I tried my best to get her portrait accurate to the character creator screenshot you supplied - timing was SO GOOD because I had just started working on it!

On to my feels- YOU ARE AMAZING! You're funny, sweet, encouraging, kind, ever so talented, and a privilege to know 🫂❤️❤️ Your writing is poetry- beautiful and complex and something that I can tell comes from the heart. I know everytime I sit down to read something of yours, it's going to be a transcendent experience and it makes my soul feel good ❤️ I'm so glad I met you and get to read your work, behind though I may be. I'll always be honored to know you and hear your thoughts, your jokes- you make me smile and I'm so grateful for it. 🫂 I love you!!!

Thank you all so SO MUCH for all the love so far on this series!!! I made this to uplift my friends who truly make every day that much better, that much richer and full of life. If I can do what you've all done for me, well I'm going to try 🫂

I will be back tomorrow with another single, may have to take a break on Xmas, but I should have a mini Ofelia/Astarion fic coming out that day just to tide you all over! If I can edit it in time!!! Happy Christmas-Eve-Eve!!!

[theamazingaxleyax]

Reblogging this with my updated T.B.o.B. plans and where some of this will come into play.

Piebald will be featured eventually. My reasoning for why she hasn't appeared is because she's traveling currently

The relatives and spirits will play a role. (Lore drop for my AU, but due to April being possessed by Karai, and Mikey being.... Mikey, they are especially in tune with the spiritual plane)

Oh there are plenty of Hidden cities. There's definitely one in Japan that will be featured. And, if I choose to add a couple of other characters, one in Louisiana

Donnie being averse to certain types textures will be based on my own sensory issues because, well, that's what I have the most experience with. (Funnily enough, a lot of the stuff he displays having issues with are VERY similar to my own)

Sunita will be there, and nobody can stop me, and yes, her and Donnie will be besties. All three of them are the members of the April O'Neil Dorky Pals For Life, although Sunita isn't as dorky.

As for the Donnie medic thing, I personally believe that Donnie himself helps Leo with medic-ing. Donnie is the backup medic in case Leo is out of commission. He knows the procedures, but when it comes to blood? He cannot deal with that, or any other bodily fluids for that matter unless he absolutely HAS to.

Mayhem will there. He's my baby, and it's a crime that he's overlooked so much.

Hueso Jr! Okay, so, I am aware that Leo says something about Jr. being in college or something, but I can't get over like... a little 9 to 11 year old skele-kid that absolutely ADORES Leo, and wants to be just like him. Also, screw you, this is my AU, I do what I want. (This is a MAJOR /j, I love you guys.)

I want to give Usagi more than being Leo's love interest, so I'm moving his introduction back a bit. (Mostly so I can do my research on him so I can create an accurate Rise version of him)

Same thing with the comic characters

I definitely plan on adding characters from other iterations. (If you didn't see the authors note on chapter 1, I plan on eventually adding Tim into the equation, thank PineTreeVillain and CupcakeSlushie for ruining my aro Donnie hc lol) And, being completely honest, I only know like... three things about 2003 LH, but I already completely and utterly adore him, so he will very likely be added.

Mikey will indeed get a pet cat. In fact, he gets two! One will be the stereotypical orange tabby. Energetic chaos, and has -1 braincells. The other is, again, a stereotypical black cat. Solitary, and spooky. Orange boys name is Klunk, and black girls name is Salem. Salem was a gift from April, and Klunk was a stray cat that Raph brought home and gave to Mikey. Until he gets those two though, he helps Repo take care of Ms. Nubbins. (I'd like to imagine that thanks to Mikey, Repo can now let Ms. Nubbins wander around the junkyard freely without the fear of her eating someone.

The sibling interactions will be very heavily based on my own interactions with my siblings. And that includes giving kisses goodnight because showing affection is a VERY big thing in my family, and I can tell that that's the case as well with the Rise sibs. (Or at least Mikey)

And lastly BIG MAMA REDEMPTION ARC!!! By the time the main timeline for T.B.o.B. has started, Big Mama had her redemption arc already, BUT I plan on writing a oneshot/short story for her redemption, just like I did Hypno. (Though hers might be a bit more narrative than Hypno's)

Ideas/things I think are underutilized in rottmnt fanworks:

-Piebald

-Leo’s “lucky rock” (air turtle ep. for reference)

-the fact that Big mama willingly participated in the “doom dome” and maybe even at the Nexus at one point

-Lou Jitsu’s past and relatives

-the multitude of spirits seen in the s2 finale

-mystic trinkets and artifacts (you can never have too many!)

-yokai background characters

-the hidden city seemingly being run by fear (mobsters, power, etc.)

-more hidden cities outside of NY

-Baron Draxum being driven to a villain role only because he sought to protect the yokai race (he isn’t all that evil)

-Leo’s disgust of romance (…at least develop Leo into a romance role…)

-Donnie isn’t averse to EVERYTHING goopy and weird. (Like the yokai pizza he ate w/Leo in “operation: normal” and the Joey pouch he sat in with Leo in “hidden city job”)

-Sunita. look, she clearly has a taste for fashion (the fashion turtle pointed THAT out) and she chose to go into SCIENCE/biology class, out of many options. She would be besties with Donnie.

-those crab brothers

-tmnt iteration crossovers (there isn’t enough out there)

-Donnie (probably) being the medic (y’all are gonna hate me for this. But. I honestly don’t see that much to support medic Leo. it makes an excellent headcanon though! It looks like Donnie designed the entire medbay and patented the suits and whatnot in “down with the sickness”. Also he started spewing medical-talk when unmutated piebald fell out of the fishbowl.

-MAYHEM

-Senor Hueso’s son (Hueso Jr?)

-other Yojimbo/samurai rabbit characters! I’m tired of ONLY seeing usagi. Where’s gen? Chizu? Katsuichi? At least do your research y’all pleassseee. At least read a wiki page because so many usagis I’m seeing are so ooc that he’s just there to be Leo’s love interest. Cmon.

-Draxum’s son sloppy joe(seph)

-Characters from the rottmnt comics.

-Battle Nexus monsters (Lou Jitsu mostly fought hydras, big creatures, etc.)

-Renet!!!

-other characters from pre-existing tmnt iterations (Rocksteady, leatherhead, tigerclaw, Lita, Bebop, I could go on….)

-the turtles adopting a cat (rise Mikey hasn’t had the best of luck with cats though)

-space adventures! Triceratons! Aliens! Robots! please

-sibling kisses. Hugs and stuff. Now.

-Big Mama redemption arc??? I still haven’t seen one. She was actually pretty close to redemption towards the finale. We haven’t seen her in the movie, so who knows?

[kyistell]

Look!!! Children!!!! Aren't they adorable. I've had a lil' Jersey design for a while but York...not so much, like at all, so y'all are getting this.

They are just so cute, I'm so good at this truly XD

[red-moon-at-night]

After doing some research on the types of pets people had in ancient Greece, I'd like to imagine that Helen is the sort of person who has a whole menagerie of birds — and she loves each and every one of them very, very much.

It fits well with her being good at mimicry, you know. Talking and imitating and singing with her beloved birds 💜

Close up under the read more:

I had to include that one necklace from the minoan 'saffron goddess' fresco because it's my favourite thing Ever

[potatobugz]

dugon my friend my buddy my pal

[harleiquina]

Hey! I'm late for the party (because being overworked and underpaid sucks and always ends up in burnout -not fully recovered as of now, just with spare time because its Christmas, I'm working and nobody is calling so I can delve in Tumblr as much as my heart desires-).

First of all... I wrote my original reply around 2 or 3 am because my dog woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep again. So probably I had a point and eventually lead to something else because... sleepy brain goes brr.

About the writing

It is true that between saying it or just leave it out the text, leaving it out of the text is the safer option. There is also the posibility that it was planting an idea that never truly came to be so it is just dangling there with no other purpose... it happened to me a few times that I plant a seed of something in a story and then completely forget about it and sometimes I remember and remove it. I don't know how the time frame and due dates are in the process of creating a comic (if it was written arch per arch or if NG had all planned out and later came up with the different issues) but I guess that is they were going issue per issue -writing, drawing, coloring, formating and eventually printing it- there weren't many options to go back and fix something that didn't worked.

And yes... these were the '90s so... there isn't much to do about it.

In the end of the day, Sandman isn't Hob's story. Maybe there was a chance that if audiences liked him enough there could've been a limited run series of him through time and it didn't happened maybe there was a plan to do so but audiences preffered Death over him (can't blame them). Then the audience could've see him after his meeting with Morpheus and maybe growing a backbone eventually to stop his bussiness with the Slave Trade. We will never know.

Shipping and willingfully-ignorant fans

I'm not into shipping either (I'm not going to deny that in any fandom some edits or fanarts are cute) and in this particular case, even if I understand from where it comes from... I'm so done with it. Maybe if instead of casting the son they would've gone with the father things wouldn't have gone that far 🤣

Mischaracterization is a common phenomena in any fandom, sometimes it could be the main shtick to the plot of one pice of fanfic but when the bee-hive fandom accepts it as official headcanon there is no turning back and you just have to ignore it.

Had fandom had a more accurate-looking Hob they might've reacted differently. I haven't read the comics but I've seen a few panels... and he kind of grosses me out. There is no question there that he was on any easy-way to do money (thief, soldier, slave trader) with little to no remorse. But shippers only see what they want to see and leave any kind of nuance flies out the window.

There are (possibly) many fanfic writers that took Hob's dark past (in general) and did created well grounded stories where he gets to reflect on what he's done and how to atone for it. But fluff is fluff and it gets more views. And I think that's the root of it all... some people just want a cozy coffe-shop AU because they are only in there for the romance, others want to read something that will make them question either the character or themselves, analize how certain events played out or could happen. Pretty much as with movies you have the blockbusters, the historic dramas, the romance and an audience for each one of them.

It might feel like some of them are glossing over a very serious subject that should be treated with respect however there is a different place to tackle those subjects on... hopless romantic fanfics are not the right place.

However there is also those who go full "he did nothing wrong" and this could stem from both options: people who are racist themselves, or people that has no idea of what it being a part of the Slave Trade really means. Given that History is so far back, is easy to "forget" or even imagine the living conditions back then. Of course, those who have grandparents or greatgrandparents that have experienced it in the flesh will not let it fly.

In the end of the day it all depends on whoever is reading. They can be affected by it, shocked, outraged or not... that's how Art works and none of us has the right moral compass to tell others if they should be ashamed or not.

We can tell them to knock it off or at least tag properly, but thats an entirely different can of worms 🤣

Hob Gadling’s Involvement in the Transatlantic Slave Trade between the 16th and 19th Century

The Fallacy of (clumsily written) Racial Reconciliation or: Is show/Hob really different from comics!Hob

I originally wrote this a while back as a reply to someone else’s post, but since we’ve been discussing “Men of Good Fortune” (comics) and “The Sound of Her Wings” (Netflix) in our community over the past weeks, I’ve expanded on a few points of my original thoughts.

This post discusses difficult topics, systemic racism, questions of social (in)justice and problematic angles in writing. If that’s not your thing, this is the exit sign…

A question that comes up quite frequently is the following:

Is show!Hob different from comics!Hob?

Hob’s conversation with Dream in 1789 (and not just 1789) in the show has been significantly altered (compared to the comics), and it makes it tempting to believe this somehow makes him different regarding the more problematic side of his character.

In the comics, we have a bit of dialogue in 1789 that shows how deeply involved in the slave trade Hob was: “I sort of started it,” said with a hint of, dare I say, pride? And then brushing off Dream’s concerns by saying, “It’s a living.” Twice.

(They changed this to, “It’s just how it’s done”, and a shrug in the show.)

And it’s true: If this had been integrated into the show, it would have painted him in an even worse light. However, I personally think it was the wrong move to leave it out (Ferdinand Kingsley carefully voiced something along those lines as well btw). Because now the show pushed Hob’s whole involvement in the slave trade much more into the direction of, “Oopsie.”

Can we truly take leaving out the above dialogue as a hint that Hob might be a better person in the show? I’d like to really reflect on that--leaving out those comments can’t make him a better person. Even if we change his arc slightly and he “wasn’t that involved.” You’re involved, or you aren’t. There is no, “I tried a bit of slave trading and decided it wasn’t for me.” One could even argue it makes the angle of the show more problematic because it makes the slave trade a “little blip” in his timeline. Things like that can’t be a blip. I personally think the writers made a mistake here, but that’s obviously just my opinion.

If there wasn’t enough space in the show to expand on it (which I get for a side character), I feel they should have left out the slavery arc completely instead of keeping, but then minimising it (that might sound contradictory, but it only does if you don’t look at it too closely). It already didn't sit right with me 30 years ago to use slavery as a side note for showing a white person’s character development without properly examining the damage caused, and it still doesn't sit right with me now. It makes the plight of PoC a plot vehicle to centre white people’s guilt, and I always thought that’s a blind spot only white people have (and I’m white myself, to get that out of the road straightaway).

I’m not saying it couldn’t or shouldn’t have been used narratively. Or that you can’t show remorse and atonement/redemption for the most heinous acts (that’s not the same as forgiveness—I’ll get to that). Or that characters who have committed said acts are irredeemable. But it would have needed to be fleshed out instead of making it a comment in passing. Many books and movies do exactly that. But the point is that it’s never been fleshed out.

“But they had to shorten and streamline it…”—just no. Because to me (and ofc people are free to disagree), that exactly proves the point—centring the white guy while sidelining the people who suffer. I am a bit doubtful we’ll get anything remotely appropriate in the show after what we’ve already seen. Only time will tell, so I’m withholding final judgment at this point. Fact is: It is uncomfortable to watch for people with any sensitivity on the matter.

And yet, there is a lot of focus on leaving out Hob voicing his regret in 1889, since that (again) “would have painted him in a better light.”

While simultaneously regularly failing to mention that he proudly proclaimed he “invented” the triangle trade. Can we really pick and choose his traits like that? Hob is a materialistic opportunist who also has some regrets. That doesn’t mean he can’t exist as a character, or that we’re not allowed to like him (morally grey characters are often the most compelling ones). We don’t need to sanitise him though, or try to erase his problematic traits from canon. The same goes for other characters (yes, I’m looking at you, Dream, and I’m sure we’ll get to that very soon—in fact, we’re possibly starting tomorrow 🫣). If we are talking about Hob’s remorse, we are probably mostly thinking about Sunday Mourning, so I need to bring in issue #73 at this point (this is your spoiler warning if you don’t want to read ahead).

The Fallacy of Racial Reconciliation

Very plainly:

A black woman is used as a vehicle to forgive Hob. And said black woman has been written by a white male author for that sole purpose without giving her anything else to do. I personally think NG got that wrong. It was clumsy and insensitive to POC, and I really hope they change this for the show. It’s a fact that he really wasn’t good with writing black female characters in the whole run—they all get fridged in one way or another, and he even admits it in the Sandman Companion. And then turns around and basically implies that it's all okay now because “nothing bad” happens to Gwen once Morpheus is dead. She is allowed to be a vehicle for the character development of a white guy though. It’s just really insensitive, and I sincerely hope they don't put it in the show this way. And I’m glad that we're seeing hints it might not happen--at least the casting in the show hints at it (from Lucienne, Death and Rose to very likely turning Carla into a white man—we already met Carl, and that’s who he is IMHO).

There is also the not so small fact that Hob is, even in his guilt and shame (shame is always about yourself, and that’s actually very in keeping with his character), not honest with Gwen. The thing about him basically inventing the triangle trade, which he so proudly proclaimed in 1789?

The English who were so good at it? The “Jack” Hawkins he talked about in 1789? That’s actually this dude:

And Hob funded him 200 years before 1789, and enabled Hawkins. Hob was involved in what became the transatlantic slave trade well before 1789–he already funded it when he had money in the 1500s.

He carried that mindset around with him for literal hundreds of years and saw nothing wrong with it until at least (! more about that in a sec) 1789. Dream had to rub his nose in it, otherwise it wouldn’t even have occurred to him (or did it, and he just chose to ignore it--see below).

Hob has been written as a stand-in for humanity, British Imperialism and England over the centuries—with all that entails.

So how honest is he with Gwen? And how long, even after 1789, was he still involved, even after abolition in England (Somerset vs. Stewart declared slavery unlawful in England in 1772, but that wasn't true for the rest of the British Empire. Buying and selling slaves was only made illegal in 1807, while owning slaves only became unlawful with the Abolition Act of 1833, and it took another year to buy out slave owners to actually make it happen)? Because there’s still this:

“It got worse when they did [outlaw the slave trade]. You only needed one voyage in three to make a profit. You could afford to dump your cargo if… you spotted a British Man o’ War.” How does he know? Why does he have these nightmares? We can take a guess…

That’s not someone who tried it for a couple of weeks and then thought, “Sorry, my bad.” That’s someone who has been opportunistically involved from the 1500s and potentially until after slavery was unlawful in England, which it already was when he talked to Dream in 1789. So does his feigned ignorance of, "It's a living/It's how it's done?" really hold? Especially if he potentially kept going, even after that convo with Dream? When I wrote "between the 16th and 19th Century" in the header, that's exactly what I meant...

Guilt and Shame

Yes, what we see above and in all the other panels is guilt and shame. And it reminded me of this:

And I’d encourage everyone to really listen to what Jasper has to say, and sit with the feelings it brings up. Because I can still remember watching this in the George Floyd aftermath for the first time, and how deeply uncomfortable it made me—because he’s right.

Black people/PoC do not need to forgive and absolve white people from their guilt. They can if they wish to, but that’s their choice, not ours. It’s not for white people to absolve other white people from their guilt around the oppression of PoC. And that’s why it could be argued it’s not for white people to write a black character to do that in their stead either (they can of course, but then they need to live with the fact that people will call them tone-deaf). It could also be argued it is something that cannot be forgiven retrospectively, and white people need to be okay with that. It can only be worked on in the present with a view to the future. And as Jasper also so rightly points out:

The guilt is not even helpful (at least Gwen has the right sentiment there, but it’s still falls incredibly flat over all), and shame only centres ourselves.

Forgiveness vs Redemption

Hob Gadling's regrets don't make everything he did forgivable. I think it actually does the story a disservice if that’s our main takeaway, because this is truly one of the bits of The Sandman that’s written in an extremely tone-deaf manner. NG isn’t the first author who did this, but we can take something good and helpful from this, and that’s engaging with these questions instead of brushing them under the carpet—because that’s what literary analysis is about.

It should be clear that I do see Hob Gadling as narratively important because I see him as a stand-in for humanity, and more specifically, English history. And there is really so much to learn from that.

Writers can get things narratively right but still be emotionally tone-deaf due to their own blind-spots. We don’t need to assume malice, but we also don’t need to leave it entirely unchallenged.

And because of that, we can certainly see Hob as someone who has to live with his conscience, and the consequences of his actions, for the rest of his life and struggles with that (as he should). And maybe we can see him as someone who is now, finally, trying to do the work. Because that is what atonement and redemption actually mean:

Taking action to rectify past wrongs. Actively working against the harm once caused, and preventing it from ever happening again. And I hope that’s what he does, and the signs are there (but there are also still signs that he values covering up his immortality higher than e.g. telling Gwen the truth. And we can find a million excuses for why that is, but ultimately, none of them truly matter).

However, it is not the same as forgiveness from the people we have wronged. Forgiveness is not a prerequisite to redemption, although it can be a part of it if the person who has been wronged chooses to extend it. But the people Hob wronged are dead, while their descendants still need to live with the pain people like Hob caused to this very day. So while I don’t see him as irredeemable, I don’t think he needs to, or even can, be forgiven—especially not by black people (unless they choose to. But it is also fine if they don’t, and again, we need to be okay with that). And we could say, “But Gwen chose to.” To that, I say:

I wonder what Gwen would have said if he had been truly honest with her (which he wasn’t, see below panels). That wouldn’t have been an embrace is my guess…

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

This is an impulsive draft of a scene I thought up based on @orange-artist‘s Time Travel AU of the Kamaboko Squad… if you read this, know that I love your art and that I genuinely can’t stop thinking about it. Please enjoy the hyper-fixation soup of words that I call my unedited writing!

“Kanata and Kiriya,” Kagaya gasped, his usually gentle and composed features overrun with surprise as he desperately hoped he had not misheard them. “How… how many of the children did you say survived this year’s Final Selection?”

“Of the thirty-three test takers, thirty-three have passed and will continue to serve the Demon Slayer Corps,” Kanata replied dutifully.

“Of those thirty-three,” Kiriya continued after, already anticipating their father’s next question. “Five were noted to be especially skilled.”

“The independent swordsman who developed his own breathing style, Hashibira Inosuke.”

“The independent swordsman who does not use a breathing style, Shinazugawa Genya.”

“The youngest student of the retired Rumbling Pillar Kuwajima Jigoro, Agatsuma Zenitsu.”

“The newest student of the retired Water Pillar Urokodaki Sakonji, Kamado Tanjiro.”

“And the only student of the current Insect Pillar Kocho Shinobu, Tsuyuri Kanao.”

Kiriya gave their father a moment to commit the different names to memory before concluding, “the remaining twenty-eight state one or more of these five had saved their lives at least once and stayed close by until they were healthy enough to survive the rest of the week. We saw each of them waiting at the edge of the forest for the rest of the stragglers before passing themselves. Additionally, the Kasugai Crows we sent on a final expedition of the forest afterward reported that only one or two of the demons were left alive.”

Kagaya had believed the Miracle Selection to be a once in a lifetime phenomena — marked by a lonely gravestone in their strange family’s shared cemetery and the memory of a peach colored fox wielding violent waters in defense of its peers.

Unimaginable, and unrepeatable.

He was right, but only because this Miracle Selection was nothing like the first. This one was intentional and decisive and everything that his family made of blood, bone, and steel had been waiting for. The beginning, or perhaps just the first visible omen, of a change in the very course of the world that Kagaya had been unable to foresee until it had already happened. Was it any coincidence that there were thirty-three survivors specifically? That, of those thirty-three, five of them in particular had saved the rest?

The Ubuyashiki were superstitious by nature; marrying their heirs to the daughters of priests and teaching their children to create rings of salt around their beds when they wanted some extra protection at night. The importance of the numbers three and five were not lost on him. With the three sacred treasures and the five directions (the five senses) marking their way, there was no question as to what he must do. Kanata and Kiriya know it too, or they would’ve sent a crow instead of making a personal report.

“Tell our most reliable kasugai to follow the five children you just mentioned,” he ordered Kanata, “they don’t have to be especially quiet… though I would appreciate it if they were undisruptive.”

He could not see her, but he knew that she gave him a solemn bow before turning to leave.

For Kiriya, “I need a missive to be sent to all of the currently active Pillars as well as the retired Rumbling and Water Pillars for a meeting at the northwestern estate three months from now.”

“Understood.”

The tide of change was fast approaching, and he knows that it will spell the end of this centuries long battle against the night. Kibutsuji Muzan will not live to see the next era — that, he promises.

(What he does not know just yet is that his chosen children have already sat on the horizon of a demon free world, and they know that they cannot afford to fail twice. Once was enough.)

[bottombaron]

you know, i can handle a little bit of fun "Nandor is dumb" talk, but i have a net-zero tolerance for any implication that Nandor is not educated.

Nandor would have been incredibly educated in his lifetime.

even (or especially) as a soldier in the Islamic World. being a soldier was more like getting sent to boarding school that's also a military camp. they weren't just concerned with creating loyal fodder for war. they were building the next government officials, generals, accountants, advisors, etc. it was important that young men knew how to read, write, speak multiple languages, learn philosophy...sometimes even studying art and music was mandatory.

if he was nobility (and its most likely he was), take all that shit and multiply it exponentially. Nandor would have been reading Plato at the same age most people are still potty training. he would have been specifically groomed in such a way to not be just a brilliant strategist and warrior, but also diplomate and ambassador of literally the center of scientific and cultural excellence of the age.

so like yeah, he can be a big dummy sometimes, sure. but that bitch is probably more educated than any of us will ever be.

[xiewho]

i am not immune to the temptation of making a fhsona. template made by @cloudmancy n can be found here !!

[arom-antix]

Happy birthday to the man, the myth, the legend, trophy husband of Yuuri Katsuki, Viktor Nikiforov!

[winds-of-zephyr416]

Eldritch evil? No, no no no no no. You mean angry barbie doll.

All jokes aside I've been incurably obsessed with the way Morgoth deteriorated throughout the Silm. Especially reading it as his own fault. There's something so fascinating in a villain who had nearly all the power in the start and basically none by the end, not because of some glamorous defeat, but because they wore themselves so ragged by being evil that they destroyed themselves in the process.

And also I wanted to mess with his hair again. I'm a simple man.

[welcometogrouchland]

I just think Hunter was obsessed with Willow and didn't even know it during the period from any sport in a storm to labyrinth runners. They maybe don't talk as often as they could, they're both busy and have conflicting schedules, so when they do talk, Hunter absorbs everything she says.

After roughly 3 weeks of texting (hexting? I feel like the kids would call it hexting), He knows that her favorite colour is orange, she likes her tea with extra milk and a bit of honey during winter, she likes working out to the noisiest angriest music in her playlist, her dad Gilbert is a construction witch who specialises in pottery, she used to listen to breakup songs and think about her childhood best friend (Hunter doesn't know it's Amity) and she actually has a mild pollen allergy despite being a plant witch and has to take potions for it.

He casually drops all this info piece by piece during their stay in the human realm and willows like. Well I can't not marry him. It'll have to be a winter or fall wedding to account for her allergies </3

[sysig]

Some Betty highlights from her way-too-long comic roughs (Patreon)