#such a heartbreaking moment

[densewentz]

mmm not to be a solasmancer on main but im thinking about those few days after the Cole debacle if a solavellan Inquisitor encourages him to remain a spirit. just. Solas, watching her fret so much in the aftermath, terrified that she may have taken someone's choice away, worried that she influenced what Cole wanted somehow, watching her sheer relief and unbridled joy after Cole's, free and light and brimming with happy incredulity, "but you didn’t change, didn’t make me change. Thank you". He watches her, and thinks of Mythal. Thinks of devotion, and abuse. Regret. Thinks of Cole, and spirits and Wisdom and Pride- Thinks, wistfully, achingly, "in her hands, I might have been safe".

[owlquotablemoments]

[vaguely-concerned]

can you even imagine what a fucking horror show the early game is from spite's perspective, though. not only is this funky forcibly severed little slip of the fade having to deal with the reverse cosmic horror of physical reality as perceived by a spirit and being trapped in it against its will -- existentially confused and disoriented and hurting and nothing makes any kind of sense, at the mercy of human cruelty at its most deliberately sadistic. and then the one source of comfort and compassion and some kind of safety and clarity that lucanis surely must have been to him in the ossuary despite everything just goes and shuts himself in his room inside with a seemingly passive aggressive number of locks between them and no explanation and won't speak to him and they're STILL in the fucking ossuary. rook came and found them and they could be free now (rook is here!) and still lucanis keeps them in the ossuary even though he PROMISED he promised they'd get out of there together!!! what the fuck DO you think at that point? like did he trick me that whole time??? he wasn't like zara before, so why is he doing this to me now? why isn't he saying anything? 'he won't move. I can't reach him'. at least in the ossuary they had a deal, a goal, a hope -- each other. at least he wasn't entirely alone, before.

this poor poor poor little spite spirit really was ferried into the real world like 'hey welcome to reality! as your first introduction to it you're first getting horrifically tortured and then getting to vicariously experience one of THE most distressing and harrowing psychological conditions the human brain can cook up for itself (a fully fledged and deeply entrenched freeze response flaring up with catastrophic severity due to an unbroken ongoing and unlikely to let up any time soon chain of Unfortunately... Recent Events). I think spite is being extremely reasonable and patient about the whole thing, when you put it into perspective. I'm not saying let him eat the self-lighting candles or anything, but he's got some extremely valid points along the way lol. spite is not only child-like, the metaphor work going on is a lot more pleasingly flexible and complex than that, but he is also helplessly existentially dependent on lucanis in a way that, if anything, is a heightened version of the way a child (or child part) has to depend on a parent to navigate the world and survive.

tl;dr: we truly don't give enough sympathy to spite for having to live in the head of lucanis dellamorte. a place even lucanis dellamorte would prefer not to be. to be fair to him I think lucanis would be the first person to agree with this lol

[littledemo0n]

So excited for the movie and definetely not at all dreading whats to come :))))

[lesbian-thesbian]

father daughter nose boops

🎥 @medium-observation

[markantonys]

[brainrotcharacters]

I'm just so happy for Logan honestly he finally found a bitch insane enough to match his freak

[fairsweetlonging]

just thinking about how binghe had no idea that without-a-cure even had a cure and he spent all his years as a disciple thinking his shizun would at best be disabled for the rest of his life and at worst die a slow and painful death, and it was to save him.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

*rolls up 15 years late with Avatar the Last Airbender thoughts*

So I've been rewatching clips from the show lately to refresh my memory while I'm writing my Zuko Alone fanfic. And last night I rewatched the clip where Iroh teaches Zuko how to redirect lightning and I have had thoughts about this scene for years so I might as well finally throw them into the void of tumblr.

So, this scene is insane to me, because at the end of learning how he could-hypothetically- redirect lightning, Zuko looks at Iroh and, completely seriously says "okay I'm ready to try it with the real thing now". Like, Zuko, the boy with a massive scar on his face from where his father burned him just looks at his uncle and says, "shoot me with lightning".

And yes, he's 16 and not thinking but that's part of the point because the amount of blind, complete trust Zuko has in Iroh to look at him and say "shoot lightning at me" after the insane trauma he had at the hands of his own father- that is WILD to me. Zuko literally trusts Iroh so much that he just assumes, without even having to think about it, that no matter how volatile and unpredictable the lightning is, Iroh won't hurt him because Zuko cannot fathom his uncle hurting him.

And of course, Iroh's appalled because Zuko's standing there with a massive scar on his face from when his father misused firebending against him and likewise, Iroh cannot fathom hurting Zuko. And since IROH knows how volatile and unpredictable lightning is and how it could literally kill his son nephew he is absolutely NOT going to use it just to let Zuko practice redirecting lightning, but he's so flabbergasted that Zuko would even ask him that that he just kind of splutters angrily that he will ABSOLUTELY NOT shoot lightning at Zuko. (it's also just another layer of how messed up Ozai is because he shot lightning at Zuko without a second thought later)

But I hope Iroh thought about it later and realized the amount of pure, unthinking trust Zuko has in him because ;-; the child didn't even THINK about it. "Okay uncle shoot lightning at me now. I know I'll be safe because it's you." I love them so much 😭😭

[divineandmajesticinone]

Ray Liotta in HEARTBREAKERS (2001) dir. David Mirkin

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[aventurineswife]

Even Immortals Have Limits

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Immortal!Reader, Angst, Romance, Death, Immortality, Heartbreak, Loss, Emotional Pain, Final Moments, Heartfelt Farewells, Bittersweet, Grief, Sorrow.

Warnings: Character death, Emotional Distress, Grief, Heart-wrenching Scenes, References To Immortality and Its Limitations, Heavy Angst, Themes Of Letting Go and Moving On.

A/N: was originally a Wattpad req but I liked it too much so I decided to post here too...🧍‍♀️

The night sky above Penacony was alight with streaks of neon, a false dawn cast by the city's endless chaos. Aventurine held you close against him, his usually warm eyes clouded with something unreadable-something far more painful than his ever-present mask of amusement could hide.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, his voice trembling. For once, his words were devoid of the calculated charm that so often graced them. They were raw, unpolished-a reflection of his shattered heart.

"I didn't want you to worry," you murmured, your voice weak but steady. Immortality had its limits, and you had reached yours. Every breath was harder than the last, and yet, you forced a smile, mirroring his signature expression. "Besides, you would've tried to gamble with death itself to stop this."

Aventurine chuckled, a hollow sound that held no mirth. "And what's wrong with that? I would've bet the entire universe if it meant keeping you here."

You reached up, your trembling fingers brushing against his cheek. His smile faltered, his mask cracking further. "Some things... even you can't outplay, Kakavasha."

Hearing his true name on your lips sent a pang through him, more searing than any loss he had ever endured. He pressed his forehead to yours, his golden rings glinting as he held your hand to his face. "Don't say that," he begged, his voice breaking. "Don't you dare say goodbye."

Your breaths grew shallower, but you mustered the strength to whisper, "It's not goodbye. Just... the end of my turn."

Aventurine shook his head, tears falling freely now. "I hate this game. I hate losing you."

"You're not losing me," you whispered, a bittersweet smile on your lips. "You're just... letting me go."

His lips found yours in a desperate, lingering kiss, one that spoke of all the words he couldn't say. When he pulled back, your eyes had already begun to close, your body growing still in his arms.

Aventurine clung to you, the weight of his grief crushing him as he pressed a final kiss to your forehead.

For the first time in his life, the master gambler felt truly defeated.

The laboratory was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock. Ratio sat by your side, his normally sharp and unshakable demeanor unraveling as he held your hand in his. His hair fell into his eyes, and for once, he didn't bother brushing it aside.

"This isn't logical," he muttered, his voice low and strained. "You're immortal. You-there's no data to support this."

You gave him a faint smile, your golden eyes dimmed but still warm. "Even immortals have limits, Ratio. I'm just... reaching mine."

He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around yours. "No," he said firmly. "I refuse to accept that. There's always a solution. A cure, a method-something I've overlooked."

You reached up weakly, cupping his cheek. "You can't solve everything, Ratio. Some equations... just don't have answers."

His eyes, ringed with yellow, filled with unshed tears. "That's not true. If I had more time, I could-"

"Stop," you interrupted softly, your voice barely a whisper. "You gave me so much more than I ever thought I'd have. You gave me... you."

Ratio's hand trembled as he placed it over yours, his chest tightening with a pain he couldn't calculate. "That's not enough," he said, his voice breaking. "It's not enough if I lose you."

"You're not losing me," you said gently. "I'll always be with you. In every discovery, every equation you solve... I'll be there."

His tears fell silently as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was soft, lingering, and filled with a love he couldn't put into words. When he pulled back, your hand fell limp in his grasp.

For the first time in his life, Ratio found himself faced with a problem he could not solve-and a loss he could not quantify.

The Astral Express was quiet, the hum of the engines a soft backdrop to the heartbreaking stillness in Sunday's arms. His hair framed his face, his eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow as he held you close, his wings trembling behind him.

"I thought we'd have more time," he whispered, his voice barely audible. The golden halo behind his head dimmed, its eye-like symbols closing one by one.

"So did I," you replied weakly, your fingers brushing against the flowing scarf draped over his shoulders. "But... maybe this is enough."

His brows furrowed, a flash of pain crossing his serene features. "It's not. You mean everything to me. How can this ever be enough?"

You smiled faintly, your pupils shimmering with the last light of your life. "You taught me... that dreams are worth chasing. Even fleeting ones."

Tears slid down Sunday's cheeks, his dignified composure crumbling. "And you were my dream," he said, his voice breaking. "You still are."

You reached up, your hand brushing against his feathered wings. "Don't stop dreaming, Sunday. Promise me."

He closed his eyes, his wings folding around you protectively as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I promise," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Your breaths grew shallow, and he pulled you into a final kiss, a gentle and lingering touch that spoke of all the love he couldn't put into words. When he pulled back, your eyes had closed, and the warmth in your body faded.

Sunday clutched you tightly, his golden halo dimming completely as he whispered, "Goodnight, my love."

For the first time, the celestial protector felt as if he had lost his way in the Dreamscape-without you to guide him back.

[owlquotablemoments]

[royalarchivist]

Cellbit: The growling noises get lower... and lower... Wait a second. [Turns down the music] And you eventually- it's just: silence. Only the cold wind hitting outside.

[Everyone breathes a sigh of relief]

Cellbit: ...I know you tried your best. But I'm so sorry. It wasn't enough. It found you. All of you. You hear [mimics the sound of a door being ripped of its hinges] the door slamming. All of you are seen. One of you will die. You need to run, as fast as you can.

[speakofcompersion]

241130 MEAN: of my first 🔥 Minho 'Something About U' [X]

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two