#the only reason for her smiles

[stil-lindigo]

motherhood.

[bludhound-a]

‘  for  himself?   if  he’s  feral  enough.  ’  unbidden,  her  childhood  dog  flashes  before  her  eyes.  a  dead  raccoon  in  his  mouth,  blood  lining  its  black  mouth.  ‘  we’re  not  desperate  enough  for  it.  stinks.  ’  a  smile  plays  at  mina’s  lips  as  she  pets  hancock’s  warm  neck.  ‘  d’you  think  he’d  wear  it  like  a  trophy?  maybe  he  wants  to  look  tougher, tell you to stop babying him.  ’

Iris watched Mina as she spoke, taking in the information. "Do you think the pelt could be salvaged?" She asked, examining the mangled fur. "I could probably take it to Laz. I'm sure he could work his magic on whatever meat there is."

[mrmeepsmadmind]

rewatching this over and over again.. mainly bcs tarn makes soundwave into a manlet but also bcs it's hilarious

[jaycecore]

considering she’s definitely met him at least once, probably is pretty familiar with him given her son likely has had him around A Lot, i wonder what jayce’s mom thought of viktor and of her son’s relationship with him back in the earlier days……

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

i just find it weird that in a movie where the villain does forbidden magic to corrupt himself and had a whole song with the protagonist about sharing the same passion we're meant to accept that the villain was always comically evil from the start. I don't get it.

there's a very 'and nothing of value was lost' vibe to his final defeat but... why? If he WAS comically evil from the start and there's nothing to mourn about losing who he used to be, then why did he even need a corruption storyline? And why give him an earnest and touching moment with the main character in the beginning? But if he DID meaningfully change post-corruption, why is nobody even slightly upset at how far he has fallen and they all act like his actions are completely unsurprising?

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Eliot annoyed that Hardison didn't show up for the recon

"Idiots." Eliot whispers after Nate and Sophie find cuffs and whips in a lost and found luggage.

"Second class citizen, I'm in coach." Eliot says as he walks onto the plane.

Pinches the bridge of his nose as Parker does the safety protocols for an airplane.

The struggle of being exasperated 100% of the time is real.

Forget about Eliot's grumpiness! It's all about his exasperation and annoyance.

[teabutmakeitazure]

ain't no way this random aunty (neighbour) started lecturing me to marry a guy of the same nationality as me because not doing so is "wrong"

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THE ORDER OF PALMS An order of holy folk that serve The Helm, working to create powerful Aasimar Paladins for the purpose of protecting any who hire their help. [BACKSTORY UNDER CUT]

One day, Gjör and her peers were lead by their mentor Opheria, to a mission far from their home. On the peak of that mountain village, they saw upon the horizon, the castle of their home go up in flames. Horrified and scared, the apprentices sought to follow their mentors guidance, and followed her lead into a small barn. It was there, that Opheria proceeded to slaughter each and everyone of the apprentices. It seemed she somehow had a hand in this sudden attack on the Order of Palms. Gjör D'annevual survived a sword through the 'heart', on account of a rare condition, that places her heart on the other side of her chest. When she finally managed to bring herself back home, the Order was insulted by her survival. She had so many better peers, why couldn't any of them have survived? This runt was seriously the only thing that survived Opherias wrath? It was better to just wash their hands clean of this. Thus the Order decided to banish Gjör from their ranks. She now travels the land in search of a purpose.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

An underrated sashannarcy dynamic is them starting as a V-shaped relationship and the hinge realizing the other two are also in love and trying to set them up. I wanna see Marcy playing matchmaker for her two girlfriends who hate each other and also love each other but they also hate each other and

[scattered-winter]

made the mistake of reading through the political discussions on my big family groupchat that I usually keep muted. you must never do such a thing.

[dykesevika]

can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities for her in S2

Men DNI

[loving-jack-kelly]

i think. for spot being in love is the biggest and most unexpected thing in the world to him he didn't expect it he doesn't quite believe it's real he can't get over it. and for race it's another tuesday. and this means that race says I love you first because it's not hard for him and race says it more often because it's not hard for him and race says it more casually because it's not hard for him but spot says it and feels it from his head to his toes and there are not three words in the English language that mean more to him than "I love you" to say. or to hear.

[margindoodles2407]

blame @seeking-elsewhither for this one. it's echo time and i'm having thoughts (tm)

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[vaguely-concerned]

cassandra is so hot that I genuinely get a bit dizzy and wild whenever I let myself really think about it for too long. she's so beautiful and so wonderfully earnest and incapable of pretending to be anything but who she is and so True and Honourable in her private life that my horny brain asserts dominance and completely overwrites everything else that could get in the way. baby you are perfect I will fight for you I will read and write you poetry our love will even find a way around the fact that you're a barely moderate conservative and I'm the thedas equivalent of flirting with being a dirty commie

[triple-pupil]

"Come now! Pull yourself together, Missy...! Only You can bring some sunshine to cloudy today..."