#sorry for legion posting lol

[xykcta]

fallout sketches yay

[xxplastic-cubexx]

obligatory beach divorce doodling

bonus rough cover redraw of x-men #41 (1995) But Beach Divorce below cut

[deoidesign]

quick traditional piece for fun ^^

[princessaurayt]

Hey y'all I'm back! What did I miss? Sorry for being gone so long, I'll probably explain more in the tags to keep the post short. I'm a bit rusty so I don't know if this outfit was fairly simple or I'm not as observant as I was before.

Blue Blood’s Tailcoat | Someone's Memory | Puppet Prince’s Formal Dress | Workshop Master's Workwear | Monster Sweeper’s Hunting Apparel | Alchemist's Cape | Mad Donkey's Hunting Apparel | Survivor's Hunting Apparel

upper torso and upper arms

Middle ish + belt area

Legs + Shoes

Full roundabout shot

Misc. Details

[lemonyinks]

Can you share any headcanons about the Foccart family (LOSH) please? 🥺👉👈

Oh boy, I sure can! This will be about the Post Zero-Hour Foccart family since I have not gotten around to properly reading the older stuff. I do fully consider Lyle part of their family btw so he's in some of these.

Mrs. Foccart is a well known chemist who used to work for the government but now she mostly focuses on personal projects and lives off of her hefty retirement payout.

She taught Lyle pretty much everything he knows. She was the one to introduce him to chemistry and the first person to support his love for the craft. They used to spend long days experimenting together.

Danielle also had an interest in chemistry from a young age and got a formal education in it.

Danielle is the only one of her siblings who has a college degree.

Mr. Foccart owns a film store that rents and sells old, vintage movies and TV shows. It is not very popular and it doesn't make much money, but he has a few diehard customers who keep his business open.

Jacques and Lyle used to go to work with him and he'd let them pick out a movie every time before heading home. They always chose old spy movies; this was what got them interested in espionage.

Lyle kept his distance from the Foccarts' after Jacques "death" because he blamed himself for it and thinks they should also blame him, but the family tried to keep in contact with him regardless.

Danielle regularly sent messages and life updates to Lyle's old contact info.

They moved houses when Jacques "died" and it was a painful decision, but it was more painful living in a house that had so many reminders of him.

When Jacques is eventually freed from Earthgov, the family is over the moon. They insist that he call them at least once a week and visits whenever he can, and he complies.

They have big family calls every Saturday, or whenever time allows them to. They eventually get Lyle (and by extension Querl sometimes) involved in these calls. It's always full of equal parts chaos and love.

Mr. and Mrs. Foccart met in college (he was majoring in history and film, she was majoring in chemistry) and got married shortly after graduating.

They met the Norgs at an event/gala back when Mrs. Foccart was still working for the government.

Mrs. Foccart wears her wedding ring around her neck on a chain. This is a habit she picked up because she would constantly be pulling it off to work and it was just easier to wear it that way.

When it comes to holidays, they go big or go home. They're the best at throwing parties.

Cooking is a family activity. They cook together and eat together as often as they can. They all know how to cook as a result, whether they can do it well varies from person to person. (Best to worst; Mrs. Foccart -> Jacques -> Lyle -> Mr. Foccart -> Danielle)

They like to go camping, but haven't done it more than once or twice since the kids were young.

They totally all pull pranks on each other. April fools day is an absolute nightmare in that house.

Similar to her dad's job, Danielle collects vintage media, but she's more into old music.

They can all play at least one instrument: Danielle can play the guitar. Jacques can play piano. Mrs. Foccart can play the piano as well as the violin. Mr. Foccart can play the clarinet. Lyle can play violin, but he's not the best at it.

[cocolacola]

who remembers this scene lol i dont

[lovecatsys]

i cannt stop being salty about the person who blocked me and came into my inbox all aggressively because i hated on Legion and like Sinister

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: I decided though no fault of my own, to make a Mortarion fic. I had some ideas I wanted to do, and wanted to write him more. I'm not happy with it, but I just wanted something to be FINISHED. I wanted to post something instead of staring at a half finished doc for an hour. This actually was far longer, but I ended up cutting off chunks like a bad plastic surgery XD I have a bunch of full NSFW stuff coming soon, sorry for the wait lol

Summary: Mortarion yearns for someone who he believes he'll never have, only to learn you feel very much the same.

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd but not full nsfw, Size difference, Kind of a beauty and the beast undertones with Mortarion thinking he's dirty and gross and is going to stain you

Mortarion barely remembers the first time he'd met you. He attempted to block it out of his memory, cast it away; He'd assumed that he'd never see you again. You were just one face in a sea of unpronounceable numbers.

The second time however, he remembers far more vividly.

You'd spent the entire time indulging him with pointless chatter, asking of his homeworld, his legion; You even asked him if he had a favorite drink. The question stumped him more than forming the plans of some of his most hard fought battles ever had.

No one had asked it before; It was such a stupid, pointless, human question, one that he responded to with a quiet I don’t know when he came up empty.

He instinctively wanted to walk away, cast all this as stupid and meaningless, but he found himself staying still as you continued to indulge him with a almost forbidden feeling taste of normalcy. He's gone so long without conversation that wasn't filled with undertones of violence and conquest.

When the sky had started to turn purple, you had dared to ask if you'd see him again, promising you'd meet him here. And he wanted to ignore it, despite the way his chest tightened at the thought.

You were just saying it to be kind. Who would want to see him?

But he still stood in that same damn spot, staring at nothing and waiting. He felt like a fool, but he still did it anyways.

You did eventually show, racing down the hall and stumbling to your knees right in front of him when your feet caught the front of your dress. Your Lord had a million and one things to ask of you, you'd said. The sentence made Mortarion's mouth sour, but he didn't say anything.

You both ending up talking for hours that day; When someone had come to get you, to scold you for being late again, Mortarion had cast them a glare and told them off, telling them you were busy. They wilted under the gaze of a primarch and shuffled off, but you looked even more worried than when they had first arrived. You left a few minutes later, apologizing profusely to him before scurrying off to placate some surely worthless Lord. You deserved better.

The fourth time he saw you, you'd said that your lord hadn't been happy with you being tardy so much. You didn't smile at all that time, until it was time for you to leave. Mortarion had enough pieces of the puzzle to figure that weren't getting treated with the respect he thought you deserved; His hand cracked the marble railing with his grip.

Mortarion then softly asked for your Lord's name, and you looked at him confused before responding.

Perhaps if he was a more impulsive man, he would've done something else. But he didn't want to frighten you, and so he only made it so no lord would breath down your neck again.

The way he did such a thing was to take you for the Death Guard; But he wouldn't tell you that. At least not now. He didn't want you to think he was now your owner, and the genuine relationship that had been planted become tied to a trellis and forced into form.

And so when you returned to him again and happily explained that your debt to your lord was paid, that you were free, Mortarion gave nothing other than a curt nod.

But while he had already done so much for you, he hated that he had done it so easily; That he was already so deeply attached to you. But the fact that you'd not only spent time with him of your own accord, but seemed to enjoy it? To want to be near him? Mortarion would embarrass himself more with the things he would do to keep you this close to him.

Especially as time passed, and what had become friendly, meaningless conversations had turned into something with far more meaning, at least to him. He had begun to talk with you about things that no mortal should hear; About his legion, about himself and the other primarchs; His own doubts about the Emperor. You listened to them all and while you could never truly sympathize with him, your comfort gave him more than he's ever felt before.

He'd thought it simply desperation for even the simplest companionship at first after a life so lonely, until one day he had told you some of his history on Barbarus and you'd- upon the conclusion of his talking- had given him a small hug in a silent gesture. He knew in that moment that his feelings went far deeper than he had originally thought.

But he had no doubt that you would never feel that same way about him. You enjoy his companionship, sure he can see that, but the idea of someone wanting his rotten, soulless husk of a body as their lover is a miserable bit of hope that he doesn't even want to entertain lest it get shattered before his eyes.

But throne, that doesn't stop him from thinking about it. About how your skin must be so soft to the touch, how your smile is so warm; He wonders what you might sound like as he slipped his hand between your thighs. His nightmares have waned, but only to have been replaced by dreams that have him waking up sweating and painfully hard.

That wanting had continued for months and Mortarion had almost gotten at peace with it, until you managed to surprise him again.

He had been explaining to you something about Barbarus, about his role of primarch. How despite such a grandiose title, The Pale King was seen as little more than a failure from the start by most of the other primarchs.

You'd shocked him however, by politely speaking up.

"You have so many titles, you're just Mortarion to me."

The look he'd given you was of the most pure, genuine surprise.

Moments later he'd then knelt down as close to your level as he could get, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to him before pressing his lips to yours.

Your arms tightly wrapped around his neck like he was going to push you away at any time, no matter how much he would never even consider doing such a thing. He loved the feeling of your tight grip, the way it made him feel wanted. He tested his own limits by brushing the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, feeling the way you softly sigh and parted your lips for him. He cautiously explored your mouth feeling the way you pressed your lips against him harder; You tasted sweet, just like your favorite drink you'd told him about.

Mortarion's lips then left yours with a soft pop, leaving you catching air after so long of being denied it. When he pulled away, your face looked noticeably warmer and your lips were still parted, panting softly. Your eyes glanced away for a moment.

"I, I'm glad you feel the same. I was too afraid to say it myself."

Mortarion looked at you with a furrowed brow.

"For how long?" You pursed your lips.

"The third time we spoke, when you told me about Barbarus, I kept forgetting what I was going to say. I just wanted to stay there forever."

Mortarion had felt his heart almost stopped. To hear that you desired him before he even desired you, that you wanted him not out of pity, but of genuine attraction... He can't deny it either, he heard your heart in his ears, smelled the way you've gotten sweeter.

He knows he's disgusting. That he's rotten, that the taint of Barbarus had poisoned him; That he stands in the shadow of better men like Sanguinius, Horus, Guilliman. And yet you still want him despite it all.

You want him. You genuinely, truly want for him. Not just as a confidant, or perhaps a dear friend; You want to be with him, for him to fuck you. To touch you, ruin you, defile you.

You want him more and more, your face looked hot and he could feel your hands tight in his hair.

"I might hurt you."

Even kneeling he's still taller than you, his strength could kill you if he wasn't careful. Your fingers shifted on his neck.

"I want to try." You pursed your lips again. "And if we need to, we can get creative."

How did he get here? How did he despite all the odds find someone who wanted him? Who’s willing to figure out a compromise just to feel him?

You had yelped when he picked you up, taking you back to his personal quarters with no warning or fanfare.

On Terra each of the Primarchs had their own wings, compete with both custodes and their own legion guards. Both of those factions gave him confused looks when he walked straight to his innermost quarters with a baseline human they had zero knowledge of and slammed the door, locking it tight.

He gently tossed you onto his bed and you bounced, unable to stop your laugh. When he crawled over you however, even his lanky limbs still covered you in complete shadow, as you looked up at him quietly. You were so small.

He leaned down to press his lips against your neck, and internally scolded himself. He feels like he’s pretending or mimicking, and he feels so stupid. But you let out a soft sigh and tilted your head to give him more, and he at least thinks that it’s working. That's all that he wanted.

You were just so soft underneath him, so small and cute and begging for him with no cares about the repercussions of it. He pulled off the dress you wore with a few smooth motions and tossed it aside, before his own shirt followed suit.

But he was still remembering that he's never done this before. He doesn't want to look stupid. He doesn't want to disappoint you; After months and months of what had felt like the most unique torture you could put someone under. Torture strong enough to nearly crack a Primarch. Who would've thought it existed.

"Mortarion..."

You speak so softly, his name slides off your lips like you were spilling wine as he gently abused the soft skin on the side of your neck with his teeth.

"Say it again."

If you had listened closely, you could hear a shake in his voice as his lips moved against your throat.

"Mortarion..."

He felt his cock throb in his trousers. Your hands gripped at him so softly, even though it felt like you’re putting all of your strength into it.

An odd thing for him to lament about his primarch nature; Your nails or teeth with never leave marks on him. He would love nothing more than to have them, to feel the way they ache. Perhaps one of his fellow Primarchs might see them, and know he has something they cannot.

His hands were almost shaking as he removed his trousers, watching you keenly as you looked up at him.

You were so unafraid, and so eager. He never thought he'd see someone like this. Let alone you. All of those wandering thoughts he had alone are within reach, and in his desire to have them all he keeps you away until the sun is rising, and only then do you both finally get some rest.

"Mortarion."

He heard his name whispered in his ear, before a laugh followed. His eyes flickered behind his lids as he slowly awoke; It’s been far too long since he’s indulged in true sleep.

"Morty~"

He opened his eyes, and sees you leaning over him. He acts slightly irritated, but within himself he's conflicted over the feeling of seeing someone when he wakes up.

Your hands press against the pale skin of his chest as you lean slightly on him. He could see you were still a bit sleepy yourself, as you wrinkled your nose.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

His hollow cheeks shift as he swallowed the sticky morning taste in his mouth.

"No." He raises a hand and cups your jaw for a moment. "What did I say?" His hand falls back down. Nothing that would unsettle you, he hopes. He doesn't realize until this moment that he's glad he didn't have one of his night terrors this time; He could've very easily hurt you. Maybe even killed you. The thought makes his stomach sour.

"I couldn't understand most of it. You were mumbling." He silently expresses relief.

“Good.” You roll your eyes. Your stomach grumbles a moment later however, and Mortarion perks.

“You’re hungry? I’ll have the serfs get you something.” He moves to leave, but you grab his wrist before he does.

“Will you come back? I want to stay in bed with you for a bit longer… if you don’t mind.”

He stares at you for a moment.

He’ll feed you, and make sure you never go hungry. He’ll make sure you are no longer indebted to your lord, and you’ll never have to slave away for him. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, now that you’ve showed him so much kindness; so much want and desire.

“Yes. I’ll be back soon.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Josephine Baker (The Siren of the Tropics, ZouZou)— Josephine Baker was an American born actress, singer, and utter icon of the period, creating the 1920s banana skirt look. She was the first black woman to star in a major motion film. She fought in the French resistance in WWII, given a Legion of Honour, as well as refusing to perform in segregated theatres in the US. She was bisexual, a fighter, and overall an absolutely incredible woman as well as being extremely attractive.

Anne Baxter (The Ten Commandments, All About Eve)—her soft, gentle voice in "all about eve", those gentle eyes with something odd behind them, the way she flips from Sweet Innocent to Viper on a dime......there was something Built Different about anne baxter, man, and it makes her so good for playing people who are Built Wrong. also one of my favorite batmen villains (her joint episode w vincent price is a delight) and of course I'm obsessed with her columbo episode where she bosses around edith head and does fabulous movie star things for no good reason. and i would be REMISS if i didn't mention her slink—oh the slink—in the ten commandments...................pardon me i must go think of sinning again

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Josephine Baker:

Black, American-born, French dancer and singer. Phenomenal sensation, took music-halls by storm. Famous in the silent film era.

Let's talk La Revue Negre, Shuffle Along. The iconique banana outfit? But also getting a Croix de Guerre and full military honors at burial in Paris due to working with the Resistance.

She exuded sex, was a beautiful dancer, vivacious, and her silliness and humor added to her attractiveness. She looked just as good in drag too.

So I know she was more famous for other stuff than movies and her movies weren’t Hollywood but my first exposure to her was in her films so I’ve always thought of her as a film actress first and foremost. Also she was the first black woman to star in a major motion picture so I think that warrants an entry

Iconic! Just look up anything about her life. She was a fascinating woman.

Anne Baxter:

The prettiest murderer in that film. Just so beautifully evil as Nefertari.

Anne Baxter was part of my Bisexual Awakening. My family has a tradition that every Palm Sunday we watch The ten commandments on TV together... And starting from a very young age, I essentially developed a crushes on Anne Baxter's Nefertiri & Yul Brynner's Ramses. Dude, the woman was HOT! They both were! My crush definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Anne Baxter's costumes were a bit on the sheer side. She had a way of capturing you with her eyes, and I never understood why Charlton heston's Moses didn't just have a threesome with Nefertiri and Ramses. LOL

Her Nefertiri in The Ten Commandments was FORMATIVE TO ME. If not the hottest old movie lady, then she definitely played the hottest old movie character. if that makes sense.

Look. Listen. I only *just* discovered her on a post from the Have You Seen This Romcom poll blog. Saw she had the same last name as me and went OOH hi hello. Went to her IMdB and saw she was born in Indiana like moi. I am now even more intrigued. Been eagerly telling my partner this, and he was like "maybe you guys are distantly related?" And after 2 hrs of going down the tumblr tag + her imdb photos, I'm In Deep(tm) and I can't stop looking at her like 😍 When I go to my grandma's house, bet your ass I'm gonna check my grandpa's genealogy and see if we're somehow related. Sorry that's not really propaganda I just got real excited, esp when I saw that the submission deadline was extended (bless your soul). Narrowing down the movies where she's hottest in was Hell tyvm. I've only just discovered her, she looks gorgeous to me in every movie still I see of her gdi lol.

[auberge13]

These two moments are taken from the conversations Jon has with each of his parents before joining the Legion of Superheroes. There is one particularly interesting difference between how Lois and Clark each view the decision.

(Lois Lane 2019 issue #4 and Superman 2018 issue #16)

"doesn't leave you much of a choice, does it?" vs. "I am jealous of... the choices in front of you"

Now, if you're like me, this is the kind of thing that makes you very excited about characterization and storytelling so let's get into it.

Clark is a character who never really felt like being good was a choice that needed to be made. He was raised to be good by Ma and Pa and he is so inherently good that he can't imagine being anything else, let alone choosing to be anything else. Meanwhile, Lois intimately understands that being good is a choice that you have to make over and over again, even when it's hard. Doing good the way she does is constantly challenged, particularly by her father. Her choice to do good costs her that relationship with him, and she isn't able to fully reconcile with him before his death, which is explored intimately in this book (read Lois Lane).

As my friend @fae-morrigan put it while we were discussing this, "I feel you could easily read it in a way where Clark is jealous that Jon's been shown he could be Other Than Good and make an informed choice about Being Good. Where Lois knows that choosing to be good often comes at the expense of other good things (in her case, her relationship with her father)"

There's a key moment in the issue after the above screenshot that really showcases this.

(Lois Lane 2019 issue #5)

It's important to acknowledge that there is no part of Clark that would choose not to be Superman. They're the same guy. Clark would do good anyway in whatever capacity he could, he just happens to have a really large capacity. When he says he is jealous of the choices in front of Jon, it is less about doing or not doing good, but rather about how he's going to do it.

(Superman 2024 issue #1)

My friend @ultfreakme explained this really well. "comparing LOSH to college works like that because Jon's going to college (learning to be a hero), but he gets to pick from a million different majors and fuck around for a bit with a support system to fall back on if he fails. Clark went from high school (regular dude) and straight into a job (being a hero) with no ability to like....try something different."

So that's what we can learn about Lois and Clark from this, but what about Jon? The comics do a really cool thing where they break up Jon's complex thoughts about this choice into multiple conversations with different people. With Lois, Jon expresses the sense of obligation he feels. With Damian, he's able to share his hesitance, even telling him that he doesn't think he wants to accept the invitation at first. Finally, with Clark and Imra, he's able to feel his excitement about this new step in his life. It is all very college! I felt all of these things before I left too! But beyond that, this is also a great example of the way Jon will compartmentalize his issues and limit his vulnerability depending on who he's talking to. He has a tendency to minimize his own feelings in order to make other people more comfortable, which you can really see in the different things he's willing to express with each person.

Anyway, I think there's more to be said here and I'd love to hear what other people think about these moments, but I'll call it here. Moral of the story, read Lois Lane 2019 and then create something for the Jon Kent Week Mama's boy prompt- the Jon and Lois in that book are top tier. Also, if you've gotten this far you clearly like this kind of analysis so here's my post about why they aged up Jon. When I posted it Tumblr had put me in jail and turned me into a robot (wow Absolute Power is so immersive!) so it didn't show up in the tag. Sorry for the plug but I'm a little bitter about it lol.

[seriousbrat]

sorry for the essays but what's also legitimately fascinating to me tbh is this mass delusion about there being no information in canon, and the poor marauders fandom being forced to come up with their own ideas to fill in the perceived blanks lest they starve. Ik it's been a while since the books and people have forgotten details but it feels like going insane, I guess SWM and Prince's Tale were just fever dreams that I had lmao.

Despite JKR's obvious shortcomings as a person I don't think there's any denying that characters are absolutely one of her strong suits as a writer. Characters that are much more minor in the narrative still feel very fleshed out, like I feel like I've got a pretty good sense of, say, Dedalus Diggle even though he has probably 3 lines. But we're constantly being pelted with information about the Marauders; enough to have a whole legion of fans obsessed with them for decades. If they're just blank slates why are they so interesting to so many people?

authors aren't required to explain EVERY facet of their worlds, that has never been the case and in fact I think hp is unusual in that we've received a lot of extra content over the years.

I think it must be a (juvenile, imo) expectation for everything to be over-explained and lain out for the audience in the simplest, most straightforward ways-- otherwise, it might as well not exist. I mean basic reading comprehension in younger generations is obv declining significantly but the fact that people have no ability to tie together the simplest ideas and draw inferences unless they are EXPLICITLY STATED is wild. it reminds me of this post about the house-elves in hp.. the fact that it's a commonly held view that jkr's intention was to excuse slavery lol. like I as a 12 year old easily picked up on the fact that kreacher's tale and dobby's death were supposed to be lessons for harry-- it's pretty explictly stated in the books idk-- the fact that fully grown adults cannot comprehend ideas meant for children is sooo embarrassing

[ju-vondy]

Headcanon Gwyn scene

Guys, I just wrote this for the Chapter 11 in the Gwynriel fanfic I'm posting on Wattpad and I wanted to share with you all because yes, LOL.

This is the kind of building I hope Sarah does for Gwyn. Our girl has so much to grow! I hope you all enjoy. Please leave your thoughts!

WARNING: May contain anxiety triggers.

Count of words: 1.876

Some context before starting: Our beloved Valkyries accepted Rhysand's proposal to form a legion of female warriors (the Reborn Valkyries) and now Gwyn is about to embark on a mission with Azriel. The day is coming, a lot has been happening and, well... Let's see what happens?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The torches cast faint light across the library, creating dancing shadows on the walls as Gwyn leaned over the ancient manuscripts. The room was silent, except for the soft rustle of parchment pages as Gwyn turned them, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but she refused to succumb to sleep. There was an important and lengthy translation to complete before the mission and she couldn't afford to leave anything unfinished. Several days had passed since the conversation where Azriel had suggested Gwyn stop serving as a priestess, and... She was trying to ignore that advice with all her might.

Only a week and a half remained before they departed. But as exhausting as the routine had been, she owed everything to those females, didn’t she? Even though Merrill was a bossy and authoritarian figure, Gwyn had grown so fond of her colleagues and... And singing! Singing during the services made her feel like she was floating, like she belonged to something.

Stopping her work as a priestess would surely erase a part of herself that Gwyn was not willing to let go of.

The Valkyrie yawned again. The fatigue finally caught up with her, enveloping her like a heavy blanket. Her eyes began to blink slowly, giving in to the irresistible desire to close. Then, without realizing it, Gwyn fell asleep, her head resting on the ancient scrolls.

It was Merrill's sharp voice that woke her abruptly.

Gwyn blinked, confused and dazed, as Merrill stared at her with an expression of disapproval and fury.

"What do you think you're doing, Gwyneth?" Merrill growled, her words as sharp as knives. "Sleeping in the library, as if there wasn't important work to be delivered before the journey? You have a responsibility here, and you chose to sleep instead of working?"

Gwyn tried to compose herself, shame burning in her cheeks as she quickly stood up.

"I'm sorry, Merrill, I... I didn't realize I had fallen asleep. I was just trying to finish the translation before Silphie officially takes over my duties..."

Merrill interrupted her with a brusque gesture of her hand.

"Apologies won't fix this, Gwyneth. You're here to serve as a priestess, not as an exhausted soldier who can't fulfill her responsibilities."

"The High Lord said I could..."

"I don't care what the High Lord said," Merrill crossed her arms. "He'll certainly change his mind after I have a word with him. You need to choose: do you want to be a warrior or a priestess? Because clearly you can't handle being both."

Merrill's words hit Gwyn like a blow, leaving her stunned and hurt. She couldn't find a response, her thoughts muddled and foggy with fatigue.

"Are you listening to me, Gwyneth?"

The Valkyrie growled, frustrated. How long would Merrill continue to treat her this way? A fire began to spread inside her body as she closed her notebook, the books and started to organize the manuscripta.

Enough.

She had enough.

"If you don't like my work, why didn't you dismiss my services as soon as I started training?" Gwyn exhaled, standing up. "You still haven't found anyone to replace me, have you? No one likes working for you." The Valkyrie crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes and finally letting the anger inside her overflow as she said something that had been stuck in her throat for a long time: "Because you're a demanding and authoritarian bitch."

Gwyn blinked, barely recognizing her voice as she said that ugly word. Merrill's expression twisted into a mask of rage, her eyes sparking with indignation as she stared at Gwyn.

"How dare you disrespect this sacred place with your temper?" Merrill shouted, her voice echoing through the library corridors. "Aren't you ashamed of insulting your superior like this? You aren't worthy of wearing the protective stone like all the others!"

Merrill's cutting words pierced Gwyn's heart with sharp pain. She quickly regretted thinking she could stand up to Merrill. Gwyn struggled to hold back the tears threatening to overflow from her eyes, her jaw clenched tightly as she fought against the wave of emotions consuming her body.

The few priestesses still circulating through the library watched the scene with shock and disbelief, some murmuring among themselves in tones of disapproval. Gwyn felt the weight of their gazes on her, the weight of judgment and condemnation. Her anger began to transform into a burning flame within her chest.

She lifted her chin, determined not to show weakness before Merrill and the other priestesses. She wasn't unworthy, no matter what they said. She was strong, determined, and capable. She was the rock against which the shadows break. And she would not let Merrill's cruel words bring her down.

With her jaw still tense, Gwyn swallowed hard, gathering all her courage to say: "I am no less worthy than any other priestess in this library," her voice trembled slightly, but she made sure to keep it firm and determined. "I strive every day to honor our duties and our faith."

Merrill snorted disdainfully.

"You can try to fool yourself while you play soldier, Gwyneth. But I know the truth:" Merrill pointed a finger in the redhead's face. "You are a disgrace to our order, and your presence here only brings dishonor to our sacred duties."

With one last disdainful look, Merrill turned and left the library, leaving Gwyn alone with her turbulent emotions. The anger boiled inside her, a burning flame that threatened to consume her entirely. What had started as a fire had become a dangerous explosion.

She was a Valkyrie, a fearless and courageous warrior. Nothing Merrill said was true. She was worthy, just like all the others. Wasn’t she? She was not a disgrace. Or was she?

"I am the rock against which the surf crashes..." Gwyn said as she adjusted her hood to leave the library, trying to silence the noise in her head and not let those thoughts defeat her. "Nothing can break me."

Nothing can break me, she repeated in her mind as she climbed the stairs to go to the House.

Gwyn felt an overwhelming mix of emotions inside her, a burning energy that drove her to act. She knew she needed a way to release all that accumulated tension, so she decided to go to the training ring, even though it was cold and dark outside.

It was the middle of the night, but she didn't care at all.

Entering the spacious and airy ring, Gwyn saw the punching bag hanging in the center. Without hesitation she threw off her priestess cloak, not even bothering to wrap her fingers, and advanced towards the object — her fists clenched and her eyes sparking with determination.

Starting to deliver several blows in the punching bag, Gwyn let the pain take over as she said through gritted teeth:

"Nothing." A right punch. "Can..." another, from the left. "Break." and then a solid kick. "Me." a hook followed by a determined growl.

Gradually, the frustration began to dissipate slowly, replaced by a sense of relief. Still, Gwyn continued to punch with will: each impact causing a release of all the weight and pain she carried in her heart.

As the minutes passed and the intensity of her blows increased, Gwyn barely noticed she was overdoing it. Her fingers began to throb with pain, but she ignored the sensation completely. She was so immersed in her own anguish that she barely noticed the blood dripping from her hands.

The punches were no longer just about Merrill: it was about her past, the loss of her sister, the day she was raped... Every damn thing that had ever happened to her.

It was only when her tears began to blur her vision and her lungs felt heavy as she tried to swallow her sobs that Gwyn finally realized how far she had gone. Her sobs echoed through the walls of the ring, but she didn't want to stop.

She couldn't stop.

"I am the rock..." she gasped, abruptly stopping her blows against the object. When Gwyn extended her fingers to see the extent of the injuries, her hand was trembling. She sniffled and whispered softly: "Against which the surf crashes..."

A groan of pain escaped Gwyn's lips as she let herself fall to her knees on the ground, her body trembling with the intense effort, her heart racing with her turbulent emotions.

She let out an angry scream. With her hand on her thighs, the Valkyrie focused on trying to control her breathing, without much success. All she could do was cry and cry, giving small nervous laughs in the process, mentally cursing the voices in her head who were saying she wasn't worth it.

Gwyn heard light, hurried footsteps approaching her, but she didn't bother to look in the direction behind her when she said:

"Go away."

"What happened?" the familiar voice sounded worried.

"Go. Away." Gwyn said, her voice still choked with tears. She used her wrists to dry her eyes and sobbed. "Please, Nesta. I want to be alone."

"See, Az?" Nesta continued, ignoring Gwyn's request. "She just wants to be alone. You called me for nothing."

Gwyn turned back when she heard Azriel's nickname. Nesta raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Azriel?" the redhead said, confusion in her voice. And then, as if emerging from the shadows, he appeared, silent as the night. His amber eyes were serious, and a look of concern marked his face, slightly illuminated by the moonlight and stars. "You were here the whole time?"

He nodded. Gwyn glared at him, but before she could open her mouth to protest, Nesta intervened:

"He thought it best to call me because he panics when he sees a female crying." Nesta took a step closer and Gwyn didn't tell her to go away this time.

"After Mor broke a champagne bottle over my head when I tried to comfort her during a tough time, I was traumatized." Azriel joked, just to lighten the mood.

Gwyn laughed, something sparking in her chest.

"You idiot," was all she could whisper.

Nesta crouched, taking her friend's hands. "By the Mother, Gwyn! Look at this, it's horrible."

Azriel approached them, alarmed. "Let me see."

Gwyn looked away when tje shadowsinger, with gentle and precise movements, checked the bruises and cuts.

"I hope she didn't broke a finger." Nesta murmured, trying not to show panic. The wingtips of Azriel's shadow quickly fluttered at this, but the male kept his expression calm.

"It seems to be ok. Just some cuts and bruises, we'll have to clean it and apply a few bandages."

Gwyn sighed, feeling embarrassed for losing control to the point of hurting herself that badly. She didn't want to appear weak, especially not in front of Azriel and Nesta.

"How did you do this?" Nesta asked, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. And why? — Nesta only thought that.

Gwyn sighed again, fighting back the tears threatening to return.

"I was... discounting my frustration on the punching bag." She admitted, feeling foolish for not being more careful. "I think I got a bit too carried away."

"Let's take care of this." Azriel said with a comforting gentleness in his voice.

Together, the three headed inside the House, where a "first aid" kit awaited them, as if the House had anticipated their needs. Azriel guided Gwyn to the table. Gwyn insisted she could do it herself, but Azriel's serious look as he said "Sit down" in a low, authoritative tone made her obey without protest. Nesta offered her silent support, placing a hand tenderly on her Gwyn's shoulder.

The quietness of the house enveloped them. Slowly, Nesta felt the silence mix with the concern in her chest. She found herself reflecting for a moment: what had caused Gwyn to explode like this? They had much to discuss.

Gwyn felt her friend's gaze and asked: "Something wrong, Nesta?"

Nesta sighed, pondering how to approach the delicate subject.

"It's just... " she began, hesitant. " Are you... alright?"

" I'm trying to be" Gwyn admitted, her voice a whisper. "But it's been hard lately. Too much happening at once. It's just..." she swallowed hard and glanced at Azriel, who had finished her right hand and now began to clean the wounds on her left hand." I'd rather not talk about it now.

"Alright." Nesta agreed, but didn't leave Gwyn's side.

Gwyn turned her attention to Azriel, who skillfully tended to her injuries. His precise and delicate movements revealed a dexterity she imagined he had acquired over time. She spent a long moment watching Azriel's nimble hands, appreciating the beauty of the gesture.

Nesta did the same. She raised an eyebrow at Azriel, noticing the meticulous care he employed while treating Gwyn's injury — a gentleness that contrasted with the strength of his hands. A rare glimpse of the sensitivity hidden behind the iron facade he constantly carried.

"You're good at this" Gwyn whispered when the shadowsinger was almost finished.

"Years of practice" Azriel replied with a bitter smile, his gaze wandering to his own hands marked by scars of the past. "Don't worry, your hands won't look as horrible as mine do."

Gwyn frowned, surprised by Azriel's self-deprecation.

"I wasn't... I wasn't looking at them like that" she murmured, embarrassed as Azriel placed the final bandage on her right hand and announced he was done. Gwyn held his wrist for a moment before speaking: "Hey. Your hands aren't ugly, Azriel."

Azriel flinched from Gwyn's touch as if it burned him and stood up.

"Good to know someone still has faith in my appearance" he said with a hint of sarcasm, giving an ironic smile before stepping away. "Good night to you both. Don't forget to change the bandages tomorrow, Gwyn."

Gwyn stood up, about to call him back, but Nesta interrupted her:

"It's no use, Gwyn." Nesta sighed, taking a step closer to her friend. "He never listens."

"But..." Gwyn stammered.

"Forget it." Nesta grunted, holding back the urge to grab Azriel by the collar and slap him for treating Gwyn like that after such a calm exchange they were having. Nesta had seen the look her friend gave his hands: admiration. No disgust, no repulsion. Pure admiration. "How about some hot chocolate before bed? I can stay in your room until you fall asleep. If you want to vent, you know..."

"But Cassian..." Gwyn hesitated.

"He will understand." Nesta assured. "Come on, I'm sure the House will prepare a delicious chocolate cake as well."

Gwyn nodded, letting Nesta guide her through the halls. The comforting aroma of hot chocolate enveloped them even before they entered Gwyn's room, making her feel grateful for her friend's presence.

" Thank you, Nesta" Gwyn murmured, feeling more at ease with the warm friendship by her side.

Nesta smiled, wrapping Gwyn in a comforting embrace.

"I will always be here for you, Gwyn."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THAT'S ALL, MY FELLAS!

I'm crying, are you crying?

This is the kind of thing I'm hoping for Gwynriel: they hate themselves but when they look to each other they say "Hey buddy you're worth it, stop hating yourself!!"

Literally "Do as I say, not as I do, dumbass!!" thing hahaha

I'm sorry but I have to tag you guys @gwynrielweeksofficial @bookish-brainrot @arcturustarlight @bookishwithathought @mycadences who maybe would like reading it :)

Xoxo. Have a good weekend!

[f0xgl0v3]

Camp Half Blood Schedule

As of now I have 14 pages for the schedule and describing stuff and activities and it’s all mush, my brain is mush and please I want to go home and see my family 🥺😭😭

In all reality this is a combination of procrastinating reading Tower of Nero because all the characters I really care about have been drop kicked out of the narrative and I’m at my grandparents house. I have nothing to do and I have a horrible sense of time so let’s get into this (plus sometime down the line I’ll go over HoO re-imagining like. Camp Jupiter processes but I’m reading some books about the Roman legion so I’m gonna, tough that out and then report back lol)

Disclaimer!! I don’t know what time is, time is something that eludes my brain and the only summer camp I’ve been to was a Christian one with a foster family because I was bored that summer and I said why not (I’m not Christian but it was funny). Also I like completely forgot if there is anything in the books that actually have schedule lore. I forgot most things with CHB to be honest.

So anyways, actual meat and potatoes

7:30- wake up and get ready. Yes 7:30 sounds reasonable to me. It gives the kids 30 minutes before breakfast and campers can wake up before the ‘official’ time.

On Fridays we have cabin inspections, dictated by the arbitrary ‘one day we picked someone to do it first and now we’re on a rotation’.

8:00-8:30; breakfast time, yes you only get 30 minutes for breakfast we have things to do and does it take you more than 30 minutes to gobble up breakfast? (No judgement it took me 2 hours to eat lunch one time) but If I ever let the other 13+ pages of notes come to light they’ll be more in depth stuff about. Everything, but breakfast time includes

- one cabin setting up the Dining Pavilion

-Everyone offering to the Gods

-Morning announcements!

-yum actually eat food

-plate staking/cleaning up the tables

8:30-10:00; the first activity. The activities are your going to the arena, or the forge, all that jazz. Uh, there’s a board in the Big House where counselors set up the schedules (as in signing up for activities n stuff and coordinating) I’ll get into it someday. Maybe.

10:00-12:00; Activity 2/downtime. Because pinky swear just chilling is an activity. Downtime is important. I wrote down that cabins can sign for the same thing back to back if they so wish. Also the rules are looser than the words clinging onto my brain so really anything happens. It’s CHB they laugh in the face of a rule.

12:00-12:30; Lunch time. Nothing special about it. Uh ,:3

12:30-2:00; third activity. Action packed days for the win!

2:00-4:00; fourth activity time. Also probably when most of the campers start cabin revolts. No one agrees on a schedule most of the time.

4:00-4:30; actual specific free time. Some moments to gather round and chill out. You’ve already spent most of your day, doing something.

4:30-5:30; activity 5. Most of the time this can just be a continuation of the free time.

Don’t ask me what those extra 10 minutes are for no one really ever knows

After 6 o’ clock no one is allowed on the lake. Sorry man

6:00; also the beginning of Dinner. Dinner goes as planned, usually with some Camp wide event happening because of course. Can’t have good stuff here at camp/j

7:00; Camp Sing-a-long times!

7:30-8:00; your stuck in the Cabin circle but at least you get those last few minutes to hang out without the threat of harpies later in the night.

8:00; all campers enter cabins for like getting ready to go to bed and stuff. Get your last conversations in

8:30; official curfew is in effect. No one can leave the cabins except for counselors who need to plan the next day because they aren’t planning their full week on Sunday.

I have notes also on like. Everything else ,:3 Chiron gets lessons and the Cabins have to do those and stuff. Sorry I haven’t been, posting long posts like this for a while lol. I’ll probably get some HoO re-imagined Camp Jupiter content out once I finish this one book I’m reading and have my CJ notebook (yes I do have a whole notebook dedicated to CJ there’s my fun fact). Also, at some point I’d like to introduce Charlico (Chiron’s WIFE) to CHB if possible. Love you Charlico/j

Okay ,:3 I think I sound a little delirious, tomorrow I have to get on a plane and after that I have to go stay a week at someone else’s place. I’ll see all of you soon to talk about the forge or something. Or maybe I’ll finally get my master lists all sorted out and stuff lol.

[deoidesign]

I'm caught now, what's the comic about? I'm guessing demons from your tags but I want to know more (without spoiling anything)

I'm so glad you asked.

I wanna say so much but I don't want to spoil anything... I'll do my best.

It's about demons, yes... But also mermaids, curses, murder, and love... The sweetest mermaid in the world gets magically stuck with an asshole demon warlord.

Thrust into a world of crime, murder, lies, and secrets, Luciel is completely out of their depth... And cursed to live in the ocean for the rest of his life, Zagan is a fish out of water.

Zagan is trying to solve the mystery of his own murder, while also navigating trying to cure his new curse AND gathering souls so he doesn't get sent back to hell. While Luciel is happy to tag along, Zagan is new to cooperation and is forced to adapt... And Luciel soon discovers there might have been a BIT more danger than they signed up for.

It follows the two of them as they solve a mystery, uncover new secrets, and navigate the dangers of the world while also discovering its many wonders!

And also maybe falling in love...

This is sort of the vibe... I haven't finished any episodes yet. These aren't canon scenes. I keep drawing just a couple panels or small strips of scenes that MIGHT happen cause I'm so excited it's not even funny I want to make it so bad

I can't stop drawing them it's a problem. I have work I have to do...

[mtgc858]

Sorry I haven't been posting for awhile! My Mental health gotten pretty numb and tired recently so I kinda couldn't get anything done anyway so to make up for it Here is some art I forgot to show LOL

Is it me or Legion being pissed is actually scary and wish there was more scenes of him being pissed? Just me? Okay-

[papakhan]

I think it would be weird if Boone didn't view the faction who enslaved his wife as a problem lol. Not an NCR defender by any means but I genuinely think you're just willfully ignoring a bunch of stuff just because you hate Boone

First off, why are you even here? I'm the Khan blog of course I hate Boone. If you don't like that, don't be here. It's not hard. This is your free invitation to block me.

Second. You're taking me in bad faith if you think what I said was "I want Boone to be okay with the Legion" like of course I fucking don't. Please bare in mind that the post you're responding to literally said "obviously doesn't justify the things they do but its worth thinking about" yknow. I'm saying these are things WORTH THINKING ABOUT in a narrative.

Here's what I was getting at: Boone's Biggest character flaw is how he's completely unable to view his enemy as people. This is something that has been drilled into him by the NCR and is the reason why his biggest ~trauma~ besides murdering his own wife is murdering dozens of children and unarmed civilians. He even says himself that all Khans are dangerous and that doesn't matter if they're kids. He has completely dehumanised them in his mind and made it so in his head it's okay to kill them because of that.

So yeah of course I'm pissed that there's no way to challenge this mindset in him. And then after sitting through his sob story I have to watch him do it to another group of people.

The soldiers in the Legion are all victims of the Legion, they're all slaves, and they were all once child soldiers. No, this doesn't absolve them of the heinous shit they've done. Of course it doesn't I'm not a fucking moron. But the Legion's victims go on to create more victims, it's a cycle.

The "we're just a couple of problem solvers" is just glossing over how siccing him on the Legion camp like a rabid dog is just enabling his worst trait, which is killing indiscriminately. We SEE small children in Legion soldier gear running around the Fort. They have CHILD SOLDIERS actually IN THE FORT. THAT YOU SEND BOONE TO MURDER. and I'm sorry but I cannot imagine a universe where he doesn't just blow their fucking brains out because LEGION UNIFORM BLAM BLAM

Again, this is just in a narrative bubble. I know that it's just a silly video game thing to go kill everyone at the Fort but maybe I like thinking about things as a narrative rather than a video game? I don't know?