#some things he will not share

[nereidof40k]

Finally the next interlude for the Husbandry series. I had to make an interlude, since Sevatar writing the blog post would leave out way too much.

It was a fine spring day. Starting to warm up. Not that cold bothered Sevatar. He was still Astartes. Even in this strange situation he had found himself in. It was confusing, but he found he didn’t want to leave. He supposed this was what happiness was. Working in the fields, among growing things.

Hanging his shirt over the fence, he stretched, looking over at the orchard. He could see a bright golden patch of hair between the trees.

Weeding forgotten for the moment, Sevatar watched the woman tending to the trees. To his Nostraman eyes, she was strange. The opposite of him, all gold, brown and green. Round where he was lean.

But for some strange reason, that made him want to bite into her soft flesh. Leave his mark on that smooth tanned skin.

He would kill a man to make her laugh. It was easy. If she would just let him know who to kill.

He knew that look she sometimes got. Nostramo born, he was well acquainted with the look of someone who had suffered and lost. That look on his sun’s face made him want to rip someone to pieces. But she said nothing.

She turned around, shading her eyes as she looked in his direction. Brilliant eyes widening at the sight of shirtless Night Lord.

He couldn’t help smirking as their eyes met. She didn’t look away, staring at him with the same fervor he did her.

His smirk widened. He knew it. His sun might be hurt, but beneath it, she was made of material stronger than auramite. She would finish licking her wounds, then rise again as the bright, brilliant star he knew she could be.

He was jolted from his reverie by movement further away, in the more dilapidated part of the orchard. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and his skin crawl.

Sevatar knew with an icy certainty this was no mere stray animal. Too sinister.

As he moved, there was an earth shattering honk that would flatten the average human. Seemingly designed to damage their ears, much like his Primarch’s screams.

Sevatar ran. Praying to all the Saints of Nostramo that he would be in time.

To his shock, his sun was staggered, but not down.

A look of fury on her lovely face, she whirled around, wielding the hooked pole she had been using to reach the top branches, like a spear against the thing leaping out at her. It was taller than Sevatar himself, bulky, horribly long limbed, and garishly colored. Face a disgusting mishmash of corpse white and bright rainbow colors. Nose bulbous and red, teeth sharp as needles , set in a blood red grin from ear to ear.

Her pole connected with its face, drawing blood. It shrieked, slavering as its viciously clawed hand swung at her.

With a speed and grace he didn’t know she possessed, she dodged backward.

And then he was on the damned clown’s back. Biting, clawing and twisting. Using every dirty trick he had learned on the vicious streets of Quintus to show this creature what a grave mistake it had made.

Meanwhile his sun was attacking it from the front, wielding the pole like a professional. He was honestly glad he had to focus on bringing the clown down, or his trousers might split down the front at the sight.

The fight was vicious, brutal and bloody. But soon enough the thing sank to the ground, metal spike in its eye and neck broken.

Breathing hard, Sevatar took in the glorious sight before him. His sun standing tall like one of those Valkyries her people told stories of, hair like a bright halo around her head, a triumphant smile on her face, and her eyes glowing like twin flames.

As their eyes met, the glow fading as her eyes returned to normal, her gaze becoming searching as she looked at him. He could see the pendant she was wearing looked like it was covered in ice, but he was more focused on where it was resting.

Jago couldn’t help the single word slipping out of his mouth. “Beautiful.”

At that, she smiled so brightly his hearts skipped a beat.

Then she was wrapped around him, having climbed him like a tree. Her lips on his, her tongue slipping into his mouth, hot and demanding. He was no saint, he found himself reciprocating with a fierceness that wrung a moan from her throat.

Growling like the predator he was, Sevatar held her securely in place, sprinting for the house without breaking the kiss. The way she was bouncing against him as he moved was making it hard enough to think that he wasn’t sure how he got the front door open. He had no memory of even touching it.

Finally, he broke the kiss as he reached the bedroom door. Depositing his sun on the bed, Jago took a moment to glare out of the door before kicking it shut and locking it securely.

[spacizia]

he’s just a swinging space age bachelor man!!!!

[te4k3ttle]

Is this loss

[magic-worms]

so like i did not expect at all for my tf2 baboon post to get so popular or to see a ton of new followers from it. but that’s what happened. i can’t believe you guys like isa so much

you like her?? my little baby monkey?? my seven year old sweet little baby typing monkey??? well you’re in luck because i like her too and i haven’t been able to stop drawing her. here’s some family doodles

+ a couple scoutlings ^_^

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[steelandmayhem]

The other day, I saw a non-fandom text post along the lines of:

“What we had was so special you’ll look for me in every new person” (sorry I haven’t been able to find it again)

And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Because to me this perfectly describes Durgetash + romancing your companions.

I can’t help thinking about amnesiac Durge missing something, always searching, but can’t remember what.

They find echoes of it in Gale’s intelligence, his enthusiasm and knowledge when he speaks about magic. And yet, it doesn’t fit entirely.

They find it in Lae’zel’s easy superiority, her ruthlessness and determination. And yet, it’s not quite enough.

They find it in Astarion’s deception and easy charm, the way he manipulates a situation to his advantage, the way he doesn’t need magic to have people literally bare their necks to him.

They find it in Shadowheart’s snark, her secrecy, her dark goddess. They find it in Karlach’s rage (though she burns hot instead of cold which is odd..), in the smell of sulphur and hellfire that clings to her. They especially find it in her mechanical heart, that makes them want to reach out, bury their hands in it, just to see if it feels as familiar as it seems. If maybe owning her heart will fill the hole in their memories, their chest even.

And yet, surprisingly, they find it in Wyll’s pact, Wyll’s past, but also Wyll’s manners and they way he dances, his stories, that make them feel closer to a city they don’t much care about otherwise.

They find it in the deep possessiveness, maybe even hatred, when Raphael first comes to camp.

And yet none of it is enough, none of it fits quite right, and while maybe eventually they manage to look past that familiar feeling and find new things to admire about their chosen partner…deep in their heart they know.

In the end, they’ll always look for something none of them can give them.

Not until they first encounter that handsome young man with an easy smile, and all the jagged broken edges click together like horrible little puzzle pieces.

[sainz100]

many Max moments from the 2025 Chinese GP

[stars-obsession-pit]

Hello! Can do a chapter fic off this fic prompt Danny phantom x dc: https://www.tumblr.com/corkinavoid/767516270934556672/dpxdc-legal-power?source=share

This isn’t a one-to-one recreation of that dialogue but it’s based on that as a framework/premise

Batman dropped down into the room behind a pair of figures—a teenage boy and a slumped adult—letting his landing create an audible thump to alert them of his presence.

If the teen noticed, he didn’t react. Even as Bruce approached, he continued to stare impassively at the wheezing figure on the ground, an old wooden bat with flaking green paint on its side loosely held in his right hand. Bruce had already suspected who the figure would be since he arrived, but seeing the Joker so broken was still bizarre. No laughing, no schemes. He didn’t even seem to be attempting to escape his binds, just… lying there, almost as if pinned in place.

Bruce paused a step behind the teen. “I don’t know what the Joker did to you, but this isn’t the right way to go about this.”

The teen scoffed, and Bruce felt a painful lurch in his chest as he was reminded oh so strongly of his son Jason. “And what, let him go kill more people?”

“I know he deserves to face justice, but not like this. Everyone deserves a right to fair trial. No one person should be judge, jury, and executioner.”

The teen turned to look at him with glowing green eyes, and Batman felt himself freeze. He had faced gods before, yet even using that as a comparison felt like an understatement. The boy’s eyes belonged to someone far older than his teenage form implied, and they radiated power. Inevitability.

When the teen—no, the entity—spoke again, his words carried an unearthly echo. “Perhaps, but I’m not acting for just myself.” He paused, glanced down at the Joker, then asked almost conversationally, “Do you know how many people he’s killed?”

Another pause, but before Bruce could even try to answer, the entity continued, “Eight hundred and fifty-six. He’s ended the lives of eight hundred and fifty-six human souls. I can tell you about every single one, if you want. About who they were, what their dreams were before he killed them. About the pain they felt at his hands.”

He punctuated the word ‘pain’ by raising up the wooden bat in his hands and ramming its end down onto the Joker’s arm. He let out a wheeze, muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“I have a duty to my people. I am the King of the In-Between and of all the souls that pass through it—even ones whose stays were as brief as his. I am the rightful arbiter of his fate. And with that power, I sentence him to death.”

He raised the bat again, adjusting his grip so he’d hit with the side rather than the end this time, then paused and let out a chuckle. “Of course, just because it’s based on some justice doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun with it too.” He swung the bat down, slamming it into the Joker’s side, then hooked it under the clown’s torso and flicked him up through the air to slam into the wall. “We all really hate this guy.”

With the entity’s attention fully turned away from him as he sauntered towards the Joker’s slumped figure, Bruce could finally unfreeze himself.

Even if the Ghost King did have the right to pass judgement on Joker, Bruce still couldn’t let torture go on like this. He wouldn’t win a direct fight, but he could hopefully at least grab the Joker and bring him over to the police. Carefully, he reached for some of the smoke bombs and batarangs on his belt and readied his grapple. He’d have to do this very, very fast.

But before he could move, another figure entered the scene. Red Hood, emerging from the shadows on the far side of the room, an unexpected bit of a pep to his step.

“Nice to see someone else who gets that that bastard needs to die. But if I may make a suggestion, how ‘bout you use a crowbar instead of that old bat? It’d be a bit more… fitting.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 118

Everyone is freaking out. The titan tower was broken into, no signs of who it was, and Tim- Robin- is missing. There’s blood on the walls, taunting them, implying that Tim is going through agony, and they can’t deal with another dead Robin, they can’t- 

Meanwhile Tim is bemused, maybe a little concussed because that would explain things maybe, as he’s found himself in a living room full of books and there’s a pair of kids too? One is straight up adoption bait- wait no there’s three, with two of them being adoption bait and the third being a redhead. There’s a trio of small children there already playing by the couch he’s been bundled into. 

Where the heck is his mask- or his bo staff or any of his supplies- is that the fucking Red Hood?! No, couldn’t be, must be the concussion, because why would the Red Hood be feeding him a bowl of soup?

[luck-of-the-drawings]

JUST ROLL WITH IT: PRIME DEFENDERS - EPISODE 12: FESTIVAL OF FEAR

part of a thumbnail project hosted by the lovely wonderful GREF (that link goes to the twitty post, heres the pdf for ur own viewing tho)

THIS WAS VERY FUN! THANK U FOR ALLOWING ME TO JOIN AND PLAY.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just wanted to make a color ref for Brain Therapist Magneto from 309 but i needed lights too for some reason

bonus The Flats Only Version

[superkirbylover]

peppino and noise character studies

in this essay i will explain why i am the only one to understand these characters

[marisatomay]

“I can’t believe Tom Cruise of all people would stand up for his agent, a Muslim Libyan-American woman, who was being publicly blacklisted for her support of Palestine and calling out the ongoing genocide, including making a rare in-person appearance to CAA headquarters in LA to express his support for her. What a strange person who can ever guess what opinions he will have.”

Look. I’ve studied Tom Cruise a lot. One could even call me a Cruisologist. (Not to be confused with. Well.) And, it’s actually really easy to predict Tom Cruise’s opinion on something. The tricky part is whether it will be made public in a timely manner or not and, if it’s made public at all, will it be a lede buried in favor of pushing a narrative sold on background by a studio exec he pissed off because he didn’t roll over and take their bullshit.

[pokeberry5]

thug beatdown round 2: electric boogaloo

(extras, cw flashing gif:)

alt:

the fit: