#trigger warning : violence

[jelixpo]

Part 1

Part 2 [You're here]

Chapter 25

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Want to read the comic in order and without a break in the chapter? You can over on tapas :)

The next chapter will be the epilogue

[genericpuff]

fp spoilers ahead and a content warning for violence:

hades normally:

hades when he's possessed by his dead dad and threatening to rip his wife's head off:

i rest my case, make murder hobo hades president, rip her head off you beautiful sick fuck-

[wehaveimagineshere]

Request for Admin Frost! Could I request headcanons for Soap, Konig, and Ghost realising his feelings for gender neutral reader?

Hi I’m so sorry this took so long! I had to do some research on their backgrounds to make sure everything I wrote was accurate. I deffo went overboard but I hope you enjoy! I 100% enjoyed writing my first MW request ☺️☺️

TW: Blood, slight gore

Soap

• You and Johnny were childhood best friends and neighbors growing up. You would beat up anyone who made fun of him for any reason and he would do the same for you. When you were teenagers you would still do the same

• At the age of 16 you would join him and his cousin on trips to the base to see what it was like. You both absolutely loved what you saw and made plans to join as soon as you can

• You would tell Johnny to wait to join the SAS until he was 18 so you could join together but he decided to try to enroll anyway. He would lie about his age and would be caught and rejected every single time. You would laugh at him every time he came home and say I told you so

• You turned 18 before he did but decided to wait for him before you joined. Shortly after, you were both able to officially join the selection for the 22 Regiment. Both of you excelled in every single test and worked extremely well and smoothly together as a team

• Captain Price was evaluator for both of you and recognized your natural skills and dedication to get the job done as quickly as possible with little to no casualties on your team. While you trained as a pilot and intelligence expert, Johnny trained as a sniper and demolitions expert

• You had an IQ of 146 which made your planning for missions extremely successful as you were able to plan for every possible situation and a resolution for any potential problem you can across

• Price recruited you both for his Bravo Team to secure cargo for possible WMD’s. It’s where he gets the call name Soap which you laughed at when he told you. He’s proud of it tho and whenever anyone asks what the hell kind of name is Soap you laugh to yourself and try to conceal it when he shoots you a playful glare

• It wasn’t until Johnny nearly fell to his death until Price caught him, did you realize that you loved him much more than just a childhood friend

• You cried that night. Reality hitting you that you could lose him at any moment with this type of profession. Either one of you could lose your life just like that

• You debate telling him over the next week few years. When you try to tell him, someone or something always stops you. And there are times where you aren’t on the same mission together and don’t see each other for several months on end

• You felt yourself fall deeper for him when one night a Military Police officer kept hitting on you and touching you without consent outside of the bar you and Johnny were enjoying yourselves in. When Johnny comes back after using the bathroom and witnesses your altercation with the man, he comes up and punches him in the face. Knocking him out and he locks the officer in his own vehicle. You tell him that you love him that night and kiss him. But the next morning he wakes up with a hangover and says he doesn’t remember anything bc he was too drunk. You feel dejected

• A couple years later you join Price’s TF141 in the fight against Hassan

• Due to your excellence in planning and executing perfect directions, you’re able to find out the possible location of the compound Hassan is taking refuge in

• The team and Shadow Compamy takes Hassan to another town where you’re told not to kill him and are ambushed by the Mexican Army and cartel yet again. To the horror of everyone, especially Johnny, you did not make it to the extraction

• Johnny couldn’t sleep until they find you. He was searching everywhere and interrogating all cartel members in the hopes of learning of where you were taken. He wants to kill anyone who would think of taking you from him. His rock. His best friend. The person who he loved but was too scared to tell

• The team and Shadow Company get intel that you were taken by a cartel boss named El Sin Nombre and they want all the intel you have

• Johnny volunteers to infiltrate the compound as a hostage. When he’s being interrogated it’s Alejandro who discovers your location and the bad shape you’re in. You’re tied to a chair and they broke your leg so that you couldn’t escape if you were able to untie yourself

• He tells you that the group is here to capture El Sin Nombre and to rescue you. That it was Soap who helped discover the location

• You ask where he is and Alejandro tells you the details of the mission and you’re horrified. They could kill him. They killed another man right in front of you, his blood and brain matter sprayed on your face

• Alejandro tells you that he needs to go back downstairs but they’ll be coming back for you soon. When you hear that, you’re both worried and excited to see Johnny again. It’s been a hellish week. You just want to be in his arms

• Johnny is told to go wait upstairs and he meets up with Alejandro. He tells Johnny that he was able to find you and tells him the situation you’re in. Johnny feels enraged. He wants to kill every single person in this compound. But your safety comes first. Alejandro tells him what room you’re in and they split up

• When you see each other again you both bust into tears. You’re so relieved to see that the other is alive and Johnny quickly cuts the rope tying you down and carefully pulls you into a hug. You both finally felt like your heart was back together in once piece

• While the group and Shadow Company capture El Sin Nombre and kill the other cartel members, Johnny carefully carries you to the medevac so that the medics can take care of your wounds

• He never stops holding your hand. Not when they had to rebreak your leg since it started healing wrong, not when he learns the cartel boss is someone Alejandro used to be acquainted with, and not when you passed out due to exhaustion as you flew back to base

• He was there the whole time you were in the hospital. Knee bouncing and hands shaking while he waited for you to wake up

• After 3 days you finally slowly come to, you notice the smell of sterile chemicals and a bright white light. When you open your eyes the room is blurry but to your left you see Johnny leaning over the hospital bed asleep while gripping your hand

• Your slight movement instantly woke Johnny up and he immediately rushes to sit up and starts tearing up. He tells you that he couldn’t sleep knowing you weren’t beside him. And the exhaustion finally got to him the moment you were back in his arms. You ask him how he found you. And he said he tried to think like you when thinking like him wasn’t working, which made you both chuckle and smile

• You both start to say something at the same time but Johnny tells you to go first. You tell him about the night at the bar a few years ago. How you told him that you loved him and how you kissed but he said he didn’t remember. Johnny is shocked. He wishes he did. Then you would’ve gotten together a long time ago. He asks if you still do, bc he loves you so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself

• Of course you still do. And you share a long awaited passionate kiss

König

• König met you when you were both new recruits in the military at the age of 17

• During your recruit days you tried to have conversations with him. You were so curious about the giant man beneath the mask. The conversations you did have were always work related and when you asked him personal questions it always turned awkward

• You both signed up to be recon snipers but König was rejected due to his size and inability to stay still. You on the other hand, were ranked in the top 5

• König comes over to congratulate you but you can tell there’s a hint of sadness in his tone. So you tell him that no matter what he ends up doing, he’ll be phenomenal at it. And that you wish he was able to do what he wants

• He thanks you and you don’t see him again until you’re both recruited to join KorTac a few years later

• You’re surprised when you see him. His mask has changed and you could only tell it was him by his voice. You didn’t know it was possible for him to become bulkier but the man was the size of a mountain

• You’ve changed as well. You were able to hone in on your sniping skills and became one of the best snipers in the world with 247 kills under your belt in a short amount of time

• He walked up to you and said he remembered you from being recruits and asked you how you’ve been. You felt your heart skip a beat. You didn’t think he’d outright start a conversation with you

• You told him that you were doing well and asked him how he was, not expecting him to tell you anything just like how he was before

• But he tells you that he’s been doing well as well. That he took down Al-Qatala in Berlin which was involved in human-trafficking and managed to take down all 12 fighters single handedly and freeing the hostages. They were scared of his mask tho so his team had to take over

• You were throughly impressed. You told him how you were able to keep your whole team alive by sniping every enemy you saw with 100% accuracy

• Later on you both are constantly put together on a team to do extremely dangerous and difficult missions. Patching each other up when you get injured and having a lot of deep conversations when huddled up together in the safe house on cold nights

• You ask him why he never really talked to you before when you were recruits and he tells you he had severe social anxiety and it was hard for him. It took years of practice and therapy to start to be comfortable with it. Tho he never easily opened up to anyone like he has with you

• Over a few months you realize that you’re in love with him. You love who he is as a person. It gives you a warm feeling but you’re also scared. You don’t want to tell him your feelings in case he rejects you. You’re content with what you have

• It’s König who confesses first

• You’re on a mission in Russia during Christmas time and you’re trying your best to keep warm in the safe house during the harsh winter storm

• You’re sharing a blanket by the fireplace and keeping close contact so that the body heat keeps your fingers and toes from falling off

• König can’t hold it in anymore. He sits you both up and tells you that he needs to get something off his chest even tho this probably isn’t the best timing

• You tell him it’s okay and you feel your heart racing. Did he find out that you’re in love with him? Is he going to reject you and say he never wants to see you again?

• He quieted down your worries when he took both of your hands in his and looks you in the eyes. He looks extremely nervous

• He says that he’s been in love with you for years. Since you were recruits. That he’s so grateful for these missions to get the chance to get to know you and fall even deeper in love

• You feel the blush spread across your cheeks as he tells you this and your hands begin to slightly tremble. You tell him that you love him too

• He feels giddy and decides he wants to show you his face. And when he takes it off you didn’t think it was possible to fall in love even more but as you gaze into his pale, blue sea eyes and see his perfectly shaped nose, you ask him if it’s okay if you can kiss him

• He says yes and you lean in to gently press your lips to his. It’s the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had in your life and as you pull away and smile at each other, you both know that you want to spend the rest of your time together

Ghost

• You are a new addition to TF141 with high speciality in weapons and combat. Laswell told Price that she wanted you to join the team in the mission to capture Major Hassan Zyani

• The team was informed about a new member that would be coming within a week after Hassan escaped from their first capture due to the Mexican Army and cartel

• Ghost didn’t really have much of an impression or opinion about you at first. He honestly didn’t think they needed another member on the team but they can’t go against a direct order

• You kind of reminded him of Johnny in a way, with the way you always have a more positive look on things and try to crack jokes with him

• You and Johnny will even team up to poke a little fun. You’ll try to have Gaz join you, but he’s too terrified of the harsh glares and curses the Lieutenant sends your way to even think about doing something like that

• Despite your smaller stature, you’re one of the only few people who are able to go toe to toe against Ghost in combat without getting your ass beat in 5 seconds

• One time even managing to best him with the result of you straddling his lap with a knife to his throat

• It’s after that when you’ve slowly but surely managed to worm your way into his heart. He starts to pay a little more attention to you and your whereabouts

• He sees you as a close friend. Even goes to far as to tell you his real name and bits and pieces of his traumatic past

• His heart skips a beat when you hug him for the first time. He thinks nothing of it and passes it off as just being surprised with physical contact

• It’s not until you’re shot by Graves during the betrayal in Las Almas does he come to realize how much he cares for you

• Alejandro is knocked out and he sees both you and Johnny are on the ground covered in blood and he felt his heart stop

• When he yells at you and Johnny to escape and sees you both sliding down that hill, shooting at the enemy, he never felt more scared in his life

• Were you okay? Where did you get shot? Johnny was shot too, are you going to be able to protect each other?

• When he hears the radio crackle and your voice coming though, he felt like he wanted to fall to the ground in relief. But he had no time for that. He needed to help get you and Johnny out of there

• When you meet back up at the church he runs straight to you to check out the damage from the bullet wound and to make sure that you’re okay

• It’s when sees his hands covered in your blood and he realizes that he doesn’t just care for you, he loves you. He loves you so much that he doesn’t know what to do anymore. But he does know one thing, he needs to tell you. Today was too close of a call and he doesn’t want to live with any more regrets

• When you’re back on base and getting medical attention for the gunshot wound and, to his horror, some stab wounds you must’ve got during your escape, Simon comes into the room, sits down, and reaches for your hand

• You’re surprised. The only physical contact you’ve ever really had is when you’re training or the occasional hug you’d give him. You look down at the hand clutching yours and feel your heart race

• That’s when he tells you that he loves you. Seeing you get shot and not knowing whether you’re gonna bleed out or not was the worst agony he has felt in a very, very long time

• Btw Soap witnesses all of this but he knew how you both felt for each other a long time before y’all figured it out

• In private quarters he’ll take his mask off. The first time you share a room together alone he gains the courage to do it. You stare at his face for so long he starts to feel a bit self conscious and looks away

• But you put your hand on his warm cheek to get him to look at you and say that his jokes about being extremely handsome are actually true

• You look at his lips and then his eyes in silent permission. He understands what you want and meets your lips in a sweet and sensual kiss. The kiss gets a little heated but your bullet wound isn’t quite healed yet for anything spicy to happen

• Simon will show you all his scars and tell you the stories behind them. Some are pale that have healed with time and others are freshly pink. The ones on his back tickle when you run your fingers over them

• You go on every mission together from now on. With your specialty in weapons and combat along with Simon’s excellent sniper and leadership skills, you’re a powerhouse that cannot be taken down. Being alone in the safe houses ain’t too bad either, if you know what I mean

[blackdragonbeauty]

So previous theory of Neltharions “death,” or inevitable descent into Deathwing is now... not quite right from what I’ve recently learned. From what it’s been looking like... despite npc’s using his “proper” name, “Neltharion;” it seems most of what we do get to see, all those travesties and horrific experimentations.... Those were early stage Deathwing. That legacy that Sabellian and Wrathion are fighting for??? It’s not there. There is no Neltharions legacy... It’s only really ever been Deathwing. The rest of the flight were well and good for a while...but all that made them wonderful got erased once Deathwing came in full swing.

Consider the writings from the journals that we get to see. The few that survived time at least... There’s a few that feature off a genuine scientific research, accompanied by compassion and affection. An appreciation for the experiment and what it is and how it behaves. THOSE few small pieces feature the genuine personality of Neltharion.. That is until he either accidentally meddled with shadowflame, or intentionally. From that point on; day by day, he mentally died. We see this sort of happen when Fyrrak consumed the power in the caldera, and when Sabellian got struck. The madness that began to consume them, slowly eating them away. Unlike those two; Neltharion had the old gods to control the speed and behavior, though the agony i’m sure was still just as terrible, if not; worse.... How long did he suffer in silence? Decades? Centuries?? I cannot imagine the hell he suffered. It’s not like he COULD have spoken up.. How would the others have reacted to such news? A corrupted power.. let alone one discovered in a secret hidden experimental laboratory?? They’d likely have destroyed everything in fury.. Which I cannot entirely blame them for. Even still; my sympathy goes to him. The only reason I speak of Neltharion in his truest self so compassionately is because of one very specific sentence from Wrathion in the opening cutscene of VoN. “[The Old Gods] get you to act in ways contrary to your nature.” We got to know Deathwing as an uncaring, cruel, violent brute who experiments without care on whatever and whoever, much that we see in the majority of the research writings. EX: (From a journal picked up on a broken pillar, picture included)  "Subject 646 - Cried for parents - Dumped, Terminated" THIS ONE SHOOK ME TO MY CORE. Hours even after reading it, my mind COULD NOT stop thinking on it.  These were all BEFORE the dracthyr. So I must change my theory... Neltharion lived only long enough to encourage the others to stand against Galakrond, become Aspect, found Aberrus.... and then get screwed over. Poor dude never really got to live or make a legacy. It’s all just.... death, violence, corruption, failure...  My heart goes to them, and I will forever mourn what could have been. What a true hero Neltharion could have been, had he not pulled an Icarus move and flew too close to the sun.

[team-phantasm]

[̸T̴E̴R̸A̶S̷T̵A̸L̴ ̶I̴N̶T̴E̶R̶F̶E̵R̵E̵N̸C̴E̶ ̶D̶E̵T̴E̷C̸T̷E̸D̵]̵

[Deep beneath the waves, somewhere off the coast of Unova, we see a young boy standing in a dimly lit bathroom, gazing into his reflection. He takes in his current ragged and worn state. The shadows cast by the flickering bulb above the mirror seem only to deepen the dark spots beneath his eyes, and strands of black and dark purple hair haphazardly fall out of a messy bun, partially obscuring the right side of his face. His uniform's jacket hanging from his shoulders is pristine and new. (His old one had to be thrown out after he was unable to scrub out the bloodstains no matter how hard he tried.) The gash on his left cheek from where a stray attack grazed him has begun to scar, serving as a reminder of Area Zero and the danger he put himself and the others in. If she hadn't been there...

At the thought of her, his eyes flicker down to the heart-shaped ruby stone that now hangs around his neck. A bright scarlet that seems to almost glow with a light of it's own. Much like her eyes, or a harvest moon.

More than anything else though, it reminds him of blood in snow, red like you've never seen red before.

He grips the edges of the small bathroom counter tightly, breaths coming out in short gasps, a feeling of panic squeezing his throat in its grasps as his mind flashes back to the being connected to that gem. The girl who lied to him, stole all he ever dreamed of from him, and then took his title as Champion as well. The creature that saved him, shielded him from Terapagos's attack with its own body. His greatest friend, his most hated rival. The hero of this story, the monster in another. Something that is both human and pokémon, but also neither. Dead, but alive.

He's not scared of her, he tells himself. He can't be. He was never scared of the ogre, and, really, how is she any different? A being cast out by a village that feared and hated it through no fault of its own? It's no wonder why the ogre chose her, it must have seen something of itself in her. And she has been so kind, so understanding, so forgiving despite how cruel he had been to her and everyone around him. She saved his life and gave him a chance to start over. How could anybody ever be scared of someone so sweet? She's his best friend, and he loves her.

Try as he might, however, he is unable to deny the terror that clings to his heart when he thinks back to what he saw that night those four weeks ago, as the power of that pokémon he foolishly thought he could command warped reality around them. He cannot shake the feeling that the creature he witnessed before him was never meant to be seen by the living. Perhaps it is similar to a Mimikyu in that way? When it sheds its disguise, even the people who know it would never harm them feel an instinctual and overwhelming terror? He swears he can remember her telling him that those who see under a Mimikyu's disguise may suffer from strange illness and nightmares while he was accompanying her on one of her "Ghost Misadventures." If her situation is similar, that would explain why his rest has been so uneasy lately, plagued by visions of blood on snow and a purple flame burning bright and a red moon and gods of time and space and glowing red eyes staring at him in the dark beneath a mask of a pokémon he didn't recognize—

His sister's voice on the other side of the door slices through his thoughts. Hurry up already, it's time to go, she shouts. They have a long flight to Kitakami and they don't want to miss their plane. He blinks in surprise as a glance at his watch tells him he's been standing here just staring at his reflection for a startling thirty minutes. He shakily tells her he'll be out in a second, before quickly splashing cold water from the faucet in his face to clear his mind. As he turns to leave, though, his eyes flicker back to the scarlet gem hanging around his neck.

He tucks the necklace under his shirt, out of sight, before joining his sister in the other room to help move their luggage. They're going back home, to where it all began. Some time away from school, from the League Club, from everything, will be good for him, he thinks. Maybe he'll even invite her and her other friends, and they can just... hang out, and talk, like people, without any threat of danger from more ghosts or legendary beings lingering over their heads... That would be nice...]

[blueequin0x]

Prompt 16] Plants // Art + Speedpaint

Song that this art is based on: https://youtu.be/ZVFfeTIWWco?si=W7eWDUBJW6sBOP2V

Warnings for the song: loud/jarring music, blood, violence, jarring sound effects

The true horror of this drawing is trying to draw hands AND foliage in the same drawing

CONTENT WARNINGS: [all of this is fictional] semi-realistic blood splatters, implied murder/violence, implied dismemberment / an arm in a plant pot [i have no idea how to word that warning without just saying it] // please tell me if I missed any :]   

IMAGE UNDER BREAK

Zoomed in versions

DO NOT REPOST // DO NOT REMOVE CAPTION AND CONTENT WARNINGS

total time taken: 9 hours 40 minutes

link to the speedpaint: https://youtu.be/3NN28bcfcdM

[dndads-worst-ending]

The Very Good Son

When he was first taken in by Her Majesty, he had no desire to act like a son at all. Thirteen years old, he was a brat of a child whose only interactions with nature were running across the grass of a soccer field. He held no appreciation for the wisdom of a towering pine, no understanding that it was by the grace of an aspen grove that he was allowed to breathe. He's learned much in ten years.

[ Warning. This post contains descriptions of major character death, child death, violence, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, and mentions of eating disorders. ]

In the first few months, he was unwilling to leave the cell room allowed to him. He clung to the slim rectangle until its light went out for the last time, and even after the light went out for the final time he continued to fidget with the ridges on its sides. Why did that useless chunk of metal mean so much to him? He still has that thing somewhere, a relic of his past, but it’s in a drawer. Unnecessary. He doesn’t need the unnecessary.

He was fed well and looked after. Most surprising was that Her Majesty came to check on him every day, even when he refused to speak or even look at her. She still came, speaking softly, and stayed for a while each day. It was so different from what he was used to, that his silence wasn’t entirely out of fear. He truly did not know how to respond.

During one visit, she looked at him with a sense of understanding.

"Since you don't like to speak out loud," she said. "Would you like to learn a spell that lets you speak silently?" His expression must have betrayed some kind of interest, because she continued, "It's called Telepathy. It's pretty easy to learn. Next time I visit, I'll bring a spell book with me and teach it to you."

And she did, and before long he was able to communicate with her using nothing but his mind and a little magic. His responses were still clipped and curt, but she didn't seem to mind. They were talking.

➴

Eventually, he accepted her invitation to tea. He didn’t really like tea, or at least he thought he didn’t. The “tea” he’d tried before was stale and crammed into tiny bags and mass produced. When she’d poured him a fragrant beverage, he had taken that porcelain cup with doubt in his eyes. It smelled better than he remembered his mother’s tea smelling. This had a natural sweetness to its aroma, and as he hesitantly sipped the warm drink he was suddenly struck with the sensation of springtime. It was as if flowers were blooming on his tongue and, for the first time in almost a year, he felt safe.

After a couple more months of coming out for teatime, he began to accompany Her Majesty around the castle. She seemed happy to have the company and allowed him to linger in the throne room while she was conducting business, gently told him he could sit with her while she was reading, and occasionally asked for him to pass her whichever gardening tool she required while she was busy in the courtyard soil. He had never personally known a Queen before her, the only representation from Darryl's Disney Movies movies. She wasn't wicked, though, or conniving. She wasn't obsessed with her own personal beauty and didn't seem interested in conquest. She was a kind Queen. She was a very good Queen.

➴

It wasn't originally supposed to end with him staying with her. He had been the extra, the spare in case one was lost or ended up dying. When the battle had ended, the two men had been deciding who would take them. The elf said he only wanted one of his own blood. The other said he had his hands full with the two he had chosen. They were prepared to dispose of him and be done with it all, but that's when Her Majesty spoke up.

"I'll take him," she had said, her vibrant eyes daring either of the men to oppose her. They exchanged a glance and agreed. She had then turned to him and said, "You'll be working for me my son from now on. You might not like it at first, but the alternative is I let Willy slit your throat right now that's alright. It'll be alright. Just listen to your new Queen Mother, Grant."

➴

Two years into living at Rock Port Castle with Her Majesty, there was an incident. An assassin broke in and made an attempt on the Queen's life. The event occurred late in the evening. Grant had grown accustomed to a routine of rising early to assist Her Majesty in the garden, then sharing a quiet breakfast. During the day he studied, assisted the Queen with her royal duties, and practiced the simple spells she'd taught him. Later, they checked in on the gardens again, and eventually returned to the dining hall for supper.

The incident occurred twenty minutes into their evening meal. Grant's place at the long table was halfway between the head, where the Queen was cutting into her steak, and the opposite end where a decorative pot of flowers sat on the end of the table.

Grant was reluctantly picking at his own plate. Mealtimes had always been difficult for him, even before he was taken in by Her Majesty. He didn't get hungry as often as he should, and if left to himself he'd probably forget to eat for days at a time. It was an obligation he fulfilled only so the the Queen wouldn't express worry for his health. It was difficult when most food was tasteless and bland to him, but he managed to finish what was given to him.

The crash of breaking glass snapped Grant out of his melancholic quiet. Gasping, he raised his head, eyes darting to the window, not fast enough to see what had shattered the pane but quickly enough that he saw the arrow fly in. His gaze followed its path as it buries itself in the Queen's chair, where her head would have been if she had not tilted it to the side. Her dark eyes glanced at the arrow, unimpressed, and she said only one word before continuing her meal.

"Guards."

The Queen's guards sprang into action as the pair of assassins barreled into the dining hall. The eyepatched archer lingered by the window, continuing to shoot at the guards while their companion charged directly into battle. She yelled as she swung her swords, trying to get around the small swarm of soldiers and reach the Queen.

Her Majesty cut small bites of her steak, eating calmly until she was finished. She set her fork and knife to the side of the plate, delicately picked up the cloth napkin, wiped her mouth, and then finally turned her gaze toward the archer, who had been forced onto his knees, and the swordswoman, who lay unmoving beside her brother.

"Fuck! Fuck you!" the archer was yelling, struggling as the hands kept him down. His eye was full of hatred as he glared at the Queen. "You killed my uncle; you killed my sister! I'll kill you! You hear me, Erin, I'll kill you!"

Grant, who had stood up at some point, was frozen, staring at the would-be-assassin. He was shaking, but not from fear. His heart was beating harder and faster than he could remember it had for a long time. Witnessing the fight had stirred something in him, something he had nearly forgotten. Something about the way the girl had gone limp after being run through from behind... Grant swallowed and tore his eyes away from the corpse to look at the boy, whose gaze landed on him at the same time.

"Huh?" The assassin seemed confused, but recognition flashed in his eye. "Grant?" And Grant realized that he did know this assassin. Years ago, he had run into this boy a couple of times. Nothing special had occurred between them, despite the brief delusions Grant had held at the time.

"Grant," the Queen said calmly. "Do you know this person?" Grant didn't look away from Yeet Bigley, didn't open his mouth. His expression hadn't even changed since the attack began. He slowly sat back down and, keeping his eyes on the face of someone he once thought would matter to him, he replied telepathically.

No.

A flick of the Queen's fingers, and a head dropped onto the dining room floor. Grant watched as the bodies were removed, and remained still until a low rumble broke the room's silence.

"Are you hungry, Grant?"

He nodded. He was.

"Finish eating, then meet me in the library," the Queen said as she rose and exited the dining hall, patting Grant's shoulder as she passed him. Grant looked at his plate and began eating voraciously. He was hungry.

➴

Following the incident, Grant had taken it upon himself to train both his body and mind. If such a thing ever happened again, he wanted to be the one to kill the assassins defend the Queen.

Her Majesty was confused at first by the request to accompany the soldiers during their training sessions but allowed it at once. She ordered her elite squadron to allow Grant to shadow them, and they took their new role as law. Their training was intense to the point that his entire body burned from being pushed past its limit daily.

His first time holding a sword, it was heavy, and he couldn’t keep it aloft. He was slow, sluggish. It was frustrating. Why couldn’t he just pick up a weapon and start fighting? Why couldn’t he jump into a battle? He craved another taste of that rush, and that was what drove him to put his head down and keep learning. Sword practice. Archery. Getting beat to a pulp while trying to defend himself in sparring matches. Being healed and going through it all again.

Grant’s first proper swing of the sword dug into the training dummy. It didn’t feel right. The density was too light, and it didn’t have the right sound that a blade through flesh should make. He was unsatisfied. He wanted to feel the real thing.

➴

Four months into training, and he could decently wield the blade. It was still as heavy as it always had been, but his shoulders had grown tougher, his arms were bulkier. His appearance was not dissimilar to that of a high school football player, although the dark clothing he chose to wear would be uncharacteristic of such an athlete.

“Grant,” said the elf who had been taking the lead on his training. “You’re riding with us on our mission tonight.” Grant’s eyes flicked up to his face for confirmation, and he nodded. This was it. It was happening.

As the sun made its gracious descent beneath the horizon, Grant mounted his steed, dubbed Lorca, and kept pace with the members of the party as they rode into the night. The squadron leader did not waste time with unnecessary details, and Grant was not going to be the one who breaks the silence by asking a lot of useless questions.

They arrived in the village after nightfall. Their orders were simple. No one was to escape. The party was divided, with the majority heading into the village and the remainder of them were stationed around the perimeter. Grant was placed by the forest’s edge, nowhere near the village gate. In other words, he was the least likely to encounter anyone fleeing from the village. That alone was enough to prove that they thought he was a liability. He scowled as soon as he was left alone but didn’t complain.

Voices rose from the village soon afterward. Grant could hear the clang of metal, likely as the villagers were fighting back. He remained at his station, but he yearned to run back and join the fight. He wanted to help instead of just staying here uselessly.

A flicker of movement caught his eye. Grant’s head turned, and he saw two figures. How had they gotten over the wall? By climbing, perhaps, or maybe there was a hole that had gone unattended. Either way, he had his orders. No one was to escape. He darted after them, cutting them off before they could disappear into the trees.

They were both younger than he, and one held a wooden sword shakily in front of them as Grant approached. His own sword weighed in his hand, not as heavy as it once was. He stepped closer to them, wondering if they would run back toward the village. That would be smart. That would be best, right? But the villager holding the sword suddenly swung at Grant, while the other started to run. Grant felt his arm move, almost by instinct after all the drills and training. Unlike the training dummies, the sound his blade made now was exactly right.

He turned to chase after the one who had run. They were smaller and seemed to have poor vision in the dark. When he caught up to them, the villager was picking himself up after tripping over a rotting fallen log. He looked up at Grant fearfully, and Grant looked down at him without expression. Was the boy saying something? Grant couldn’t hear him over the rushing noise that deafened his ears. What he could hear was the order not to let anyone escape. What he could feel was a nostalgic sensation, one that embraced him like an old friend.

When the party returned to collect him, several hours later, the party leader asked him if there had been any trouble, then followed Grant’s gaze to the two bodies that had been piled neatly near the tree. Grant saw a smile and felt a hand land approvingly on his shoulder. He was a very good soldier.

➴

Time flew as a raven would, deftly and in a dark blur. In Grant’s once home, he would be praised now as a man old enough to enjoy a drink. Here, however, the most recent birthdays had simply been days when Her Majesty greeted him with a warm nod and a murmured word of approval. She asked him if there was anything he would like as a gift, and some years he would make a request, while on other birthdays he merely shrugged and shook his head.

Last year, his request had been a difficult one, but Erin had said that nothing was too good for her son. It had taken a few months, many attempts at finding a skilled enough artificer, and careful experimentation, but the Hunter Bolt-Action Sniper was eventually created. Ammunition could be produced magically, and the weapon could eliminate enemies from further than any bow. He made good use of it in service to his mother.

Grant was grateful for everything that Erin had done for him. From teaching him magic to just being there for him, from letting him learn at his own pace to never making a word of judgment against his interests, she was the best parent Grant could have wished for.

And, yes. He remembered Earth. He remembered Darryl and Carol. He remembered San Dimas and soccer. He didn’t miss them. This was where he belonged. This was where he was meant to be all along.

Anything that Erin asked of him, he did without question. Anywhere she wanted him to go, he was riding there at once. She was everything to him, a mother and a queen. It did not matter whose blood needed to be spilled. It did not matter what information he needed to gain. He would fulfil any request for her. He would fill any role. He was a soldier, a scout, assassin, and most importantly a son.

He was a very good son.

[skylie-spiderlillis]

I'm maybe remembering to post this on the last day of the month, but here is an interesting fact about DC Comics for Jewish history month:

Harley Quinn canonically has a relative that was at the Holocaust.

When she accidentally came back to the past and came across Nazis, she recalled her and was filled with anger about her story on took that on the Nazis.

She kicked Nazis ass's to avenge her aunt (and also because they were Nazis and she hates them).

[writer-nori-bard]

WIP Wednesday! TW for abuse and violence

My first WIP Wednesday post (I’m new to the tumblr so I don’t know how to format 😜) and I wanted to share this section that combines both my words and the Bards and also showcases Tybalt’s relationship to Lord Capulet.

Lord Capulet grabs his collar, pulling his face close and filling his senses with fettered drunken breath. “He shall be endured!” Tybalt goes to protest when the Lord’s hand moves from collar to throat. “What, boy!” He falls silent as the pressure begins to increase, “I say, you shall. Am I the master here, or you?” Lord Capulet shakes him “You’ll not endure him! You’ll bring chaos among my guests!” He pushes Tybalt away, leaving blossoming bruises to be hidden by a collar. “It will be solely your fault if this celebration turns riotous.”

“But uncle, ’tis a shame.” Tybalt growls as he adjusts his garb.

The sound of the strike reverberates around the ballroom, drawing the attention of the closest guests. “Go, go; you insolent boy. Your stupidity may chance to scathe you and I will teach you a lesson for contradicting your Lord!” He goes to raise his hand to Tybalt once more but becomes aware of the unwanted audience, “Oh my dear guests! We need more light and drinks! Please, please be merry!” Lord Capulet laughs full heartedly as the guests dissipate back into the revelry. Before Tybalt can also move away the Lord grips his arm. “You are a thorn to me, now go and keep your mouth shut or, for shame, I’ll keep it shut.”

[sweettartwitch]

Sometimes I recall my dream from last year (it was from January 10, 2022) where I was in Australia with my childhood dog in a sling while I hopped on a pogo stick. There was this man who just got home and was about to enter into his home. There were three kangaroos. One of these chokeheld him... and another forced him down. Two of these started to beat him up while the kangaroo still chokeheld him. I looked at him (I think we made eye contact?) while bouncing away. Lucky, there was another man and a person not far away from the poor man's house on my way. I gestured what happened to him (I am deaf). He had this look that said "not again..." (you know that man who looks dead tired while smoking meme? That's the look) as he pulled his phone to call 911. After that, I bounced to a forest when I felt the ground rumbling which meant the kangaroos were coming. I woke up at 5am.

I have never been in Australia.

[jev-sweethearts-best-sprout-mole]

(tw blood/violence) vent art of Sweetheart killing Trump because I hate living in this country 🔥🔥

(I put no effort into this which is why it is bad)

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[hydralisk98]

TW, Wolfenstein TNO horrors' ensues above.

In case of emergency and for memes too, hyperlink me this when I go rogue to signal me that I am doing something very wrong, along with its context please.

Can also apply for meme situations and when it goes around the lines of "I am now Arch-Nemesis, destroyer of worlds." please.

I would appreciate, especially as I am already guilty of many virtual "sins" in video games as far as nuking several times over planets in Sid Meier's Civilization 5 and committing similar war-crimes in grand strategy games and other first-person perspective violence and gore stuff...

The quote for this that I seek specifically is:

I like you, such a resilient specimen!

[crawlingdrawing]

Master post to the X-men evolution fan comic The cage

When a mission to find missing mutants goes awry, Nightcrawler ends up separated from the X-men and trapped in the private freak show of one Amos Jardine.

Inspired by Nightcrawler (2004), and Weapon by Name by CNWrites. Takes place after season 4 of X-men Evolution.

Cover

Chapter One: Part One, Part Two

Chapter Two: Part One, Part Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six: Part One, Part Two

Chapter Seven: Part One, Part Two

Chapter Eight: Part One, Part Two

Chapter Nine: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

TW: kidnapping, torture (off-screen), dehumanization, misgendering, sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, implied sexual assault (off-screen), panic attacks.

[thecorvidforest]

Today (May 5th) is Missing and Murdered Indigenous Persons Awareness day.

Native American folks continue to have very high rates of homicide and violence against them. Murder is the 3rd-leading cause of death for Native girls and women. More than 4 in 5 Native American people have experienced violence in their lifetimes, more than 90% of these from non-Native perpetrators. Most of these have not seen justice.

I want to uplift some events near me, and I would encourage fellow non-Native folks to look into the Native American communities in your area to find education, events, and fundraisers.

On May 6th, the MMIP Central Oklahoma Chapter is hosting a memorial walk and relevant speakers at the state capitol.

On May 10th, the CPN House of Hope is hosting a remembrance walk in Shawnee, OK.

On May 11th, the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma is hosting a community 5k/1 mile run in Antlers, OK with Choctaw vendor booths.

Here is a list of some other events for MMIP across the nation.

[acloudofsparklingdust]

The reality of Gisele Pelicot is horrific and yet she chose to have a public trial to raise awareness for sexual crimes such as the ones she was a victim of. I can't wrap my mind around the pain she has faced, and on top of that the horror her daughter has faced. And the great strength they're displaying by chosing to share this with the public in detriment to themselves.

Her daughter's naked pictures were also found in her father's computer under a folder named "around my daughter, naked". The level of psychological horror and abuse these women have been through is not only terrifying, it's disgusting. It's hard to read about. It's hard to conceptualize.

He did this for years. The men involved took no action. No one helped Gisele Pelicot between 2011 and 2020, and yet she is choosing to help other women by having a public trial.

I can only wish Gisele Pelicot and her daughter the best possible lives after this tragedy. I hope they remain safe and well.

And I hope that the disgusting men behind their suffering will face consequences on par with these unspeakable acts.