#very much unwilling

[thelandswemadeofpaper]

Everyone else in early adulthood get a little confused how exactly we got here?

Like I remember my teens, I remember studying, getting into HG then College and stuff, but...it was too fast? I feel like I skipped something? An manual maybe?

You know when you do quests but don't listen to what the NPC is talking about? Cuz you are in a annoyed hurry and want to play already? And now you are confused about the plot?

Yup, thats my life phase now.

[sunshines-child]

one thing I’ve realized is that the modern day has seriously screwed with the perception of Hades and Persephone. The whole myth was created to talk about a mother’s grief, most likely written to console mothers who had to give their daughters away for marriage. But the modern day has now made it a cutesy emo misunderstood guy x rebellious girl fighting against her strict mother, villainizing Demeter. And because this is all it’s known now, the moment someone brings up the original myth, they immediately get quieted or insulted.

[kittykatninja321]

Very deeply annoyed by the fanon idea that Talia treated Jason like a pet or a tool when he was catatonic, because when you actually read lost days you can clearly see that Talia is literally the only person who looked at Jason while he was catatonic and still saw a person and treated him like a person while everyone else around her (Ra’s and the doctor she hired) was ready to dismiss Jason as an empty shell

[fluentisonus]

(typing this as I walk to work so this is not articulate but) thinking a lot abt how les mis w javert sort of. hm. questions? problematizes? the Idea of dogs & the domestication of dogs (metaphorically ofc) like it sort of looks past the 'man's best friend' angle entirely & makes you think things like. kind of fucked up of humans [the social order] to domesticate the wolf [person outside of society for whatever reason] expressly to turn against & cause harm to other wolves in order to keep them out [away from respectable society] & keep themselves safe but never truly consider it an equal [it'll always just be a dog]. kind of fucked up that the dog finds enjoyment & life's purpose in this

[scruncheduppaper]

seeing ppl on twitter’s takes about snowgrave kriselle makes me want to kill myself oh my godddd “its toxic” “regular kriselle better bc its healthier” DO YOU THINK I WANT TO SEE THEM MUSHY KISS AND BE LOVEY DOVEY AND HUG EACH OTHER??? NO!!! the APPEAL is that adding romantic connotations to their snowgrave relationship (which mind you very much already exists in canon) allow their relationship to become so much more interesting. do i think they’ll become truly endgame canon? do i think they’re in love with each other??? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! AND I DONT WANT THEM TO!!! the POINT is that it’s supposed to be dark and interesting and exploratory of their characters in relation to the deconstruction of autonomy in video games through gender roles and principles of knighthood and the idea of the “damsel in distress”. not to mention that “shipping” regular kriselle and snowgrave kriselle isnt mutually exclusive either. in fact i think understanding both allows you to analyse their relationship much more fully and deeply than without considering the other side. and besides, isnt the fucking point of shipping to explore character relationships??? why would you want to Ignore nuance and depth rather than focus on it???? are you unable to handle anything deeper or darker than like fucking cocomelon??? if you hate character analysis and dark themes in relationships you can head on back there or smth idfk oh my lord i cant fucking TAKE IT ANYMORE

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Reminiscene

Hello everyone :3

You all know what time it is!! I think... It is time for another Dream drabble :3 @spotaus I know how much you like having dream be put through the ringer :33

First drabble Prev drabble Next drabble

Not much to say this time. You guys ready?

*-------------------------*

All things considered? Dream had been doing okay lately.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure if he felt good or bad about it.

At least Core didn't call him every 5 minutes anymore. Seems like the outcode child finally accepted that Dream had changed. That Dream had moved on.

Hah.

If only they knew how little he had actually moved on.

Dream stands in the greyed out forest. Waiting and listening. Not even a slight breeze. No sound.

A dead AU.

He used to blame Nightmare for that, for killing their AU.

Nowadays?

Dream figures it was just the end of their AU.

Dream leans against a tree and sighs. He tries to reach out but no sounds.

On his solo trips and, as Blue liked to call them, self discovery trips. Dream had learned he could speak to trees. Though maybe calling it speaking was a bit generous.

The trees didn't use words. Just sounds and whistles and whispers that could almost have been words. Dream had still been able to understand however. He just had to listen.

Seems like that was a theme for him. He just had to listen to be able to understand.

Even so, he takes a deep breath and leaves the forest and walks towards a familiar hill.

He kept returning here. Dream wants to say he doesn't know why and that it is just his home calling back for him.

He knows the truth.

He stops by the old cut down stump and focusses on the two familiar graves.

Seems like he hadn't been the only one visiting. There are once again fresh flowers. All beautifull yellows and orange coloured this time.

Dream smiles as he sits by the graves and gently touches the flowers. Part of his soul grieves at the two graves, once of which is meant for him. But another part of his soul sings in joy.

Because there is only one monster who could have made these graves and left these flowers.

Dream chuckles as he glances at the stump "Nighty came by... didn't he?"

No answer of course. Nim has died a long time ago. Even so Dream leans back against the stump as he keeps looking at the graves, most of his focus is on his own.

Dream keeps staring at the graves as he speaks "I know you won't answer me... with you being gone.. But... I want to at least think you are listening to me. Just this once."

Nim never listened to him. Neither to Nighty. They just had to listen to her.

Look at where that lead them.

Dream watches over the grey fields and the village in the distance. "Had you already decided near the start? Which one of us you would love and which one you wouldn't?"

No answer but Dream didn't mind. He watches the village in the distance. He can't help but wonder how often Nightmare would have had to do this alone. Keep watch alone.

"Or was it an in the moment decision? Had there been a moment were you held both of us and loved us both? Or had you decided the moment Nightmare formed that you would hate him?"

How often Dream would rush off, ignoring the quiet pleas to stay wiht Nightmare.

"I think you decided from the start. Why else would you give him the name you did? Say the only thing that matters about him is how he was different from me."

Would he have seen those angry people coming? With weapons? Had Nightmare been afraid? Wondering where Dream had been? Why Dream hadn't stopped them?

"It has to be the reason. Why else would you tell me to make friends with the villagers and help them? While telling Nightmare to stay put and send them away? You must have known. Known that by making me help them and by making Nightmare deny them that they would grow angry with him."

How often had Nightmare believed Dream had abandoned him? Only for him to end up mortally injured?

"You don't deserve the grave he made." Not that Dream thinks he truly deserves one himself. Even if he returns each time to see if new flowers are left for him.

Dream once again wonders if he should leave a message for the next time Nighty visits... Just something that he wishes to talk.

But then that ever present fear returns. What if it meant Nightmare wouldn't visit this place anymore instead of answering? What if he decided it was better to completely cut their past lose from him instead?

Dream hugs his legs as he tries to remember how colourful everything had been. How beautiful it had been.

But... Dream now realises that it had just been a prison of responsibility... For both him and his brother.

A golden cage... but still a cage.

Drema snorts as he nudges Nim's grave "Yet here you are! immortalised by a grave your son made you! You know. That same son you aparently never liekd or wanted? That son made you a grave and keeps said grave clean and brings you flowers. I bet you wouldn't even be thankful for it."

Dream knocks the stump with his fist "After all! How often did you tell me that I should focus on myself? How i should focus on making the villagers like me? How i shouldn't bother to wait for Nighty to return from the river?" Nim had been trying to seperate them from the start. A dream had never realised.

Dream sighs as he hugs his legs "We were children. Little babybones and you gave us adult responsibilities...." They should have just ran. the two of them should have just disappeared into the forest.

Nighty had asked him a few times if they couldn't just leave together.

Dream should have realised something was seriously wrong. Nighty had been the one who took their jobs so seriously.

But... Dream had just said he didn't want to leave his friends in the village behind.

"I wish i could turn back time... get a redo... I would stay by Nightmare's side. I would convince him that the job you gave us wasn't our job."

Dream wonders why Nightmare had been so set on doing their job so well... Dream has ideas but none of them are happy reasons.

"What... waht did you tell him? That made him desperate to do this job well?" Which lies had Nim told Nightmare in Dream's absence...?

Dream hugs his legs "Why did you never bother to tell me?" Dream grows angry as he huffs "Why did you never bother to tell me the same? Or tell me when Nighty was near? Or tell nighty when I was near? What was it you were trying so hard to protect?!"

A memory. from so long long ago. It had been raining and Nightmare hadn't been around. Ligthning had been flashing and Dream had been so afraid. His mother had help him within her branches. protected him. reassured him he would be safe. told him...

told him that Dream just had to protect himself. protect the hope he represented...

Dream laughs as he kicks the grave of his mother. glaring at it angerly "Was it worth it?! Was it worth killing one of your sons to protect the other?! Was it worth being the cause of all this pain and suffering we both had to go through?!" Dream shakes his skull as he gets up "Nevermind. You are never going to give me answers... and honestly. I am tired of you being a part of my life in anyway. I hope you rot whereever you are now." and he walks back to the forest.

It is silent and he prefers it like that. Things had been loud and hectic.

And well...

Maybe just maybe... He had done the same as Nightamre had done.

He gets to the forest lake and immediantly spots the tiny grave.

Well not grave. Dream shies away from that word. Nightmare is very much alive after all. It is more like a memorial... Wait those can be made for living people right? drema thinks so.

It was nice. It gave him a safe place to grieve and talk about everything. to imagine Nightmare across from him and listening to him. Like old times.

Dream figures that is why his own grave nad Nim's are still up. Dream knows Nightmare has to come by to take care of both graves and Dream snorts as he imagines Nightmare just telling the two graves in all the things they had been wrong in and all the stupid lies they believed.

For now he sits down and pulls out a few little knick-knacks he had collected form across the multiverse.

Dream keeps his voice quiet. Afraid someone will hear and come ruin it "Hey little brother..." he can't forget anymore that Nightmare had been his younger twin. Yet it had always been Nightmare who took care of him. "I am back..."

finally back.

Dream traces the stone and wood structure he had made. all still in perfect condition. With the AU being dead there was no more decay.

Dream organises everything he had left before sitting across from it "Sorry it took me a while. I had a.... I had an identity crisis." he snorts "I know. ironic isn't it? Everyone was always so quick to help and guide me to be what i should be yet it helped nothing. I still ended up unsure about who i was or what i had to do..."

he looks at the snowglobe he had put down "I was always jealous of how you just seemed to have it all figured out. How you were confident in what you did. Both before and after the apples. it felt like i was failing, and i guess in the end i did fail as everything i believed had been a lie..."

Dream sighs as he leans his cheek on his knee as he keeps looking at the structure "It is stupid... I had all the help in the world, and then even the multiverse. and yet still i didn't figure it out. I still didn't figure out i was a god of balance over positivity. I still didn't figure out i was doing more harm than good..."

Dream traces the grey grass under him "I was so against picking a domain Nighty... partly because i didn't want to pick something and get you stuck with something you would be hated for. Not again... but that wasn't all."

Dream hugs his legs and confesses what had been weighing him down "I was afraid of picking wrong. No, I am afraid of picking soemthing wrong. That i will pick something and once again not understand it... How did you do it Nightmare? How did you figure out what you were suposed to do? You didn't have help yet you understood...."

Drema chuckles and rubs his cheek "Not that it matters anymore. aparently i did already pick... Reaper confirmed it for me not too long ago... a god of progress. What the hell does that even mean? What does it mean i should do? I know i aparently helped blue by inspiring him to get out of that loop but still! That was on accident! what if i once again go to far?! what if i..." he hides his face "What if i mess up again?"

Guilt and Dream chuckles "Here i go again... whining about my trouble... I don't even know what my choice and pick do you... what is even the oposite of progress?! regression? Did i make it so you are stuck with like... reset stuff?!" he sighs as he rubs his cheek and rubs the tears away "This shit is so unfair... neither of us ever asked for this. We never wanted this and no one tried to help us before yet expected us to just know."

Dream stares at the memorial. no answers of course but he does feel better after speaking about his worries.

Dream chuckles as he pats the memorial gently "But.... that wasn't why i am here. As you know... today is a special day!" he turns to his pack and pulls out a bottle. it is champagne. and a few cupcakes. he lays the cupcakes between him and the structure before putting a candle on both cupcakes and lighting them.

Dream smiles as he opens the bottle and holds it up to the grave "It is our birthday!"

Dream rubs his neck "I know it must seem weird. after all! For the last i don't even know how many years i had so many people to celebrate with and so many powers and even before that it were the villagers but... well..."

his voice grows softer and softer "I miss when it was just us. After we collected berries and fresh fruits. when we would sneak off together and sit by the river to eat the fruits together and give each other small gifts..." he pulls a small wooden statue from his pack.

Dream looks at it and rubs the wood. He had spend weeks on it. an old familiar skill now unfamiliar and feeling alien in his hands. he managed to make a small owl at least. even if one eye was clearly bigger than the other and Dream now had more splinters in his hands then ever before, even more than he first started.

He places it carefully in front of the memorial "I know it... it isn't my best work... I am going to be honest, it is porbably my worst..." he just hadn't had time to try again. He tried so many times but none of them have looked right and as time went by it just kept getting worse and suddenly he didn't have time anymore.

Dream chuckles "It sucks that i.... i didn't keep up with the hobby... I hope you kept reading at least... that you had the chance to keep reading... your picture and castle seemed to reinforce this at least... there were so many books in there! and the picture of you reading..." he rubs his arm as he keeps sitting right there "I am sorry... that you felt like he had to leave and run from your home... again..." he glances down adn chuckles "look at me... rambling... lets blow out the candles okay? I will blow out both. Don't forget to make a wish."

Drema leans down and blows out the candles on both cupcakes before putting his hands together and making his wish.

A silent whisper in his mind.

please.

please.

Just give him the chance to meet Nightmare again.

To talk to him one more time.

If only once to tell him he is sorry and that Dream loves him.

Dream opens his sockets and smiles at the grave, ignoring the tears that are leaving his sockets "Did you make a wish nightmare? Remember. No telling! otherwise it wont come true!"

Dream takes the two cupcakes and eats both before opening the champagne bottle and drinking straight from it. He isn't a fan of stuff like this but champagne is suposed to be for celebrations and well... celebrating himself and his twin seems like a good reason.

He spends his afternoon like that. just being in his old AU thinking back.

Fitting. a god of progress... stuck thinking about the past.

Dream chuckles and sighs "Blue said it is fine you know? To take time and get used to everything... I just hope... that you are doing the same... taking your time to rest after everything. I can only imagine how exhausting it would ahve been to have to do everything you did while everyone was actively working against you..." he smiles up "Good news for that though! I managed to visit pretty much everyone who knew either of us personally or about us! And i managed to explain the situation! so.. hopefully... whever you are or are planning on going, people will let you be and do your thing..."

Dream smiles at the memorial with the raised bottle "to us. to the future... and... I miss you... I am sorry i didn't make it obvious how much you mean to me..."

That had to be the reason why Nightmare hadn't searched him out yet... because he beleived that Dream hated him.

And that is on Dream. On dream for not doing a good job as brother and making it obvious that he loved his twin.

Dream hums as he leans against the stone structure "I love you nighty. And I promise you, I will make it up to you once we meet again."

Maybe that is why he is the god of progress. Because he is willing to move forwards and make it up. progress towards a new future.

Dream blinks and laughs "I bet you would have heard my title and figured it out immediantly." he giggles as he leans against the stone "Happy birthday Nightmare."

Happy birthday to me.

Dream sips the expensive bottle and enjoys the peace and silence.

*-------------------------*

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[wardensantoineandevka]

I see there's posts floating around directly and blatantly arguing against mine (same wording) by completely misunderstanding what I said. I'm fucking BACK, babey. Should've bought some hay-scented fragrance while I was at Sephora today, because I am once again your strawman!

[ventique18]

- Ridiculous bs headcanon

A 🐉 who has so many kids (they all have the same names) that their nicknames are literally just letters A to Z.

One day he receives a letter from an anonymous source which says:

"Children are lovely and are a gift to life itself. However at this point, perhaps my liege should just cut off his entire phallus because I can hear thy children's cries ringing in my head even when I am halfway across the world. I say this respectfully, of course. Merely a sound advice.

P.S.: Give your retainers an entire year of paid vacation for their hard work."

[lord-squiggletits]

The thing about Prowl is I don't really think canon was ever trying to frame him as a "necessary evil" or anything along the lines of "he's a shitty person but his work was necessary" like mmm.... That feels very much like something Prowl wants to believe about himself, not something that's actually factually true in reality.

I can't really make a good argument about it because I only remember like a handful of standout Prowl Moments in IDW1 but like... Prowl dropping a bomb on a neutral city and blaming it on the Decepticons is not "a necessary evil," that's a war crime. Prowl trying to destroy the space bridge to Caminus to keep Starscream from getting power over it, dooming the entire planet and its inhabitants to extinction by starvation, is not "a necessary evil," it's a fucking war crime. I feel like trying to frame such drastic measures as him "doing the dirty work of the Autobots" feels way too much like an excuse for actions that actually aren't justifiable. Especially since Prowl himself is far from being the 100% rational guy he thinks he is, considering how often he bases his decisions on things like his anti-Decepticon bias and his general refusal to follow any orders that contradict what he thinks is The Right Thing To Do (TM).

But also I think this is kind of the fault of the narrative of IDW1, since very few Autobots besides Prowl are given the chance to actually be morally gray even when the worldbuilding implicates them in some very morally gray things. Like, for example, JRO adding in the existence of MTOs which implies that the normally squeaky-clean leader Optimus was willing to approve the creation of new soldiers just to throw them into combat (and even the attempts to humanize the MTOs by giving them "an education" were eventually cut down to nothing but combat optimizations). And there's also the fact that Optimus knows about the Wreckers and has been known to call them on missions at least once (Stormbringer), meaning he's very much aware of the Wreckers and their tactics and is willing to call them in for fights when it's necessary.

I don't think you need to use Prowl as a crutch to make the Autobots morally gray. I think the Autobot leadership (or at least, Optimus, since few people besides him or Prowl seem to have major tactical command over the army as a whole) is plenty morally gray enough on its own, because the nature of war is inherently morally gray no matter how righteous your cause is. Reducing the lives of your own people into numbers on maps, harvesting resources, bringing MTOs to life just to die in a war they practically have no stake in, those things are enough.

And tbh it kind of bothers me when people try to saddle Prowl with the "dirty work of the Autobots", not just because it frames Prowl's blatantly evil actions as some sort of savior act taking the blame from the rest of the Autobots (which isn't even accurate, because the blame for war crimes falls on the entire army as an institution rather than one person), but because it downplays the moral grayness of the Autobots and pretends that no Autobot BESIDES Prowl ever participated in morally gray actions, which simply isn't true.

TLDR: Prowl isn't as much of a hero as he thinks he is because committing atrocities in the name of your cause doesn't change the fact that they're atrocities (and may not have even been justified). However, painting Prowl as the "token evil teammate" of sorts also places too much blame for the atrocities of war on him in particular, when in reality that's a burden shared by Optimus Prime and any other members of the Autobot military command structure.

[just-horrible-things]

There’s a bunch of different ways it can go from here. Most of them are pretty grim.

One is that Anders shoots her. He’s very on the fence both emotionally and intellectually about whether it’s the right choice. On the one hand, she reminds him of himself and the other numbers and his impulse is to help her. On the other, she’s a torturer, she’s everything he hates, she hurt Alex, he despises her. On the one hand, executing her would be fair for her crimes and a clean death would be a mercy. On the other, how can the Resistance take her life as well after committing an atrocity like this against her.

If he doesn’t kill her, Anders helps her. If he helps her, the only reasonable outcome from there is to let her go. Keeping someone prisoner indefinitely is almost as antithetical to his ideals as torture. 

How much help Anders gets her and how long she’s therefore in his care, is essentially up in the air. The situation is too close to Anders’ trauma and he’s making erratic choices. 

At the lower end, he still almost certainly gets her a (paid) healer at least once – enough to fix her ribcage before it kills her, enough to stabilise the worst of the displaced breaks. It’s a lot of damage and, although a paid healer will have more magic available than a half-starved Alex, one session of healing still leaves her extremely injured and helpless.

At the upper end – perhaps he’s thinking more about the cost to the kept healers who will undoubtedly be made to heal her otherwise – she’s his prisoner and patient until she’s more or less mobile and capable of simple self-care tasks. Still a lot of healing, natural or otherwise, to go, but at a point where she would heal naturally.

Alex wants to help, if/when he finds out what happened, because his sister did this and he feels culpable. He probably isn’t allowed. If he doesn’t see how bad it is, it’s easier for him to accept that maybe he doesn’t have to be involved.

Either way, when Anders decides he’s done enough, he leaves her somewhere out of the way with a burner phone, and either calls emergency services for her (if she’s not able to use a phone yet) or lets her do it herself. 

Ariadne goes to hospital, she gets debriefed, she gets some kind of mandated therapy (that honestly is probably more like reaffirmation of patriotism, self-sacrifice, and hatred of magic). Her family get a confusing letter of “sorry, the notification of death we sent you previously was actually in error”.

She tries to go back to work as soon as possible. She can’t really handle interrogations anymore and she’s too injured and traumatised for field work at least for a long while, so she gets a desk job. She finds it a bit tedious but it’s okay. In some branches of possibility, she does quit. In most, she sticks at it. The organisation is her support network, she doesn’t know what else she’d do.

She hates warlocks and magic more than she ever did. Why they changed their minds after torturing her and nursed her back to health and handed her back, she’s very confused about. Her lead theory is that Anders Reyan is actually just crazy. (Not too far off the truth.) But the fact remains that they tortured her pretty horrifically.

This scenario lacks the absolute undeniable self-sacrifice of Alex running off with her, so it doesn’t have the same impact on her views. She’s still a prisoner. Anders is spending resources on her, yes, but not at great personal cost. Her caretaker is not someone she personally hurt. And Anders did hurt her before he “changed his mind”. She’s left confused, not convinced she was in the wrong.

The government uses her torture as propaganda, evidence of the crimes of the cruel Resistance terrorists. X-rays of her skeleton are in the papers. She hates this, but as a loyal government agent she cannot protest. 

Taryn is in so, so much trouble. Anders is absolutely furious with her. In the immediate aftermath he screams at her, tells her she’s just as bad as their enemies, and makes her wear anti-magic cuffs because she cannot be trusted with magic. She’s devastated. Not least because she sort of agrees with him.

Daniel –  her mentor and almost-parental figure is angry too, if in a much more controlled way. Not only was it an awful thing she did, it was also thoughtless. The resulting propaganda has done serious damage to public perceptions of the Resistance. She is stripped of her semi-formal position as next-in-line to lead the Resistance in the event of Daniel’s death. She doesn’t want it anymore anyway, she’s appalled with herself.

All in all it’s a pretty dark timeline. Not the worst, but nothing is improved by things going this way.

There are other small-likelihood scenarios that branch off of this timeline, but I’ve written quite an essay anyway so I’ll stop here haha.

[shittywriterbrain]

bertie trying to convince a friend that he's not in love with his girlfriend by claiming to be in love with another girl instead is such an aro experience i feel him so much rn

[waywardstation]

WIP FRIDAY

I apologize for getting this out two days late, I’ve been busy with lots of packing and events! But I have a little reprieve, so I wanted to post another WIP; this one is from Heart Full, Bowl Empty.

BE AWARE THAT THIS SEGMENT INVOLVES A CONVERSATION REVOLVING AROUND UNWILLING BUT INTENTIONAL STARVATION. I know there are people who say they can’t read this fic because of themes like this, so be aware of this before reading this WIP!!

I included this snippet in today’s WIP because I have like three versions of the entire segment this snippet is from. I feel like it’s a really important segment with a really important conversation, and I’ve had a hard time balancing all the emotions the way I want to between Ingo and Akari, with frustration, sadness, anger, and empathy, to realistically get them to the resolution I want at the end of it.

The final version will probably only include a few parts from this particular segment.

Enjoy!!

—————

“I knew it! You’re doing it again!” Akari’s eyebrows scrunched, trying to understand through the frustration. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Circumstances will improve soon.” Clearly done with the conversation, that was all Ingo said, but it was confession enough that he had fallen back on his word. Shame contaminated his voice, but if there was any regret, he hid it well.

“No, it won’t!” They were not even half-way through winter yet. “And you know it won’t!”

Ingo said nothing as the kits carefully moved around his slumped form, finding comfortable places to settle around him. She didn’t know if he intended to snuff the conversation out with angered silence, or if he was just too exhausted to care about arguing with her anymore. If it wasn’t for his small occasional signs of movement or acknowledgement, she’d think he was actually sleeping.

Akari carefully stepped into the nesting layers, moving to sit down next to Ingo. She settled with her back against the cavern wall, pulling her knees close as a few kits shuffled around to accommodate her. “You know I’m right.”

Huffing out an irritated sigh and nothing more, it didn’t seem like Ingo had any intentions to engage with her argument anymore.

“You couldn’t even pull yourself up over the ridge,” She prodded at him again, trying to motivate more conversation out of him. “I had to help you!”

“There are many, many factors that go into that.” A reluctant answer, perhaps a reflexive attempt to quell her worry; Ingo feebly rubbed his wrapped hand, almost as a display for his excuse.

“I’ve seen you do more when you’ve been hurt worse.” Akari retorted, a little softer now but still cold.

Ingo’s eyes remained closed, though his hardened expression implied that it came across as more accusatory than she’d intended. But perhaps it was precisely the time to be accusatory.

“Ingo, you’re so tired all the time now – you stopped coming to the training grounds because you just can’t make the trips all the time anymore! And you’re sleeping so much more than you used to, and it’s like you’re always hungry all the time, even though all I see you doing anymore is gathering food!” Akari’s voice grew more jagged as she continued to jab at him, entirely uninterrupted.

It was getting difficult. With Ingo’s tunic still sopping by the bucket, still somewhat red from the exhausted effort of washing out the blood, it could not hide the ribs that pressed out just a little bit more, or help fill out what the waistline had lost under the loosening belt. The abject dread of directly acknowledging that was too much.

“And- and look! You aren’t even willing to hold a conversation with me anymore, and I don’t know if it’s because you just won’t, or because you can’t!” The kits shifted uncomfortably as Akari retreated back into her own frustration instead. “People think you’re sick, Ingo! They’re asking me about you! What are you doing?”

The exhausted man remained where he laid in the nesting material, only moving his hands to rub at his face and sigh — a deep, forced sigh that swelled his side before releasing. Akari almost didn’t think he’d answer her, but with some effort, he propped himself up first onto his elbows, then slumped forward. The teen watched him run shaky fingers through his hair as he sat next to her.

“…I don’t know what I should do.” The guilt. The weary guilt cracked his voice and tore Akari’s anger down to heartache.

[elliemarchetti]

All the Fear and the Fire

I did a thing for @elucienweekofficial’s day 3, I don’t know what it is, just know it’s inspired by Wasteland, Baby!

Prompt: Adventurers

Plot: Koschei won the war, and now Prythian is reduced to a wasteland. The survivors are few and scattered in what remains of the Seven Courts, but sometimes Elain dreams of them, so she teams up with Lucien to survive and rebuild their home.

Warning(s): most main characters are dead, Elain and Lucien are still on strange terms with each other and even though I reread the whole thing a hundred times no beta was involved.

Words: 1411

It was a cold night in the northern wasteland. It started to get chilly long before the sky finished its transition from the rush and amber streaked glow of sunset to the pallid bruised purple of twilight, but now that the shadows were all mixed together and the star-studded blackness of true night had set in, the temperatures had plummeted.

They were crossing a sandy expanse once belonging to the Day Court when she had started to get behind, unable to keep up with his long strides anymore. It was the silence that alerted him; their steps were muted by the fine debris, but he expected her to complain like she always did, or at least groan her fatigue to the darkening sky, instead, he found her with her hands on the small of her back, a sight that slightly knocked what wind still existed inside his body clean out of it. Because, well, that was a view from the days before, belonging to a place far away, to a sunny day refreshed by a light breeze that caressed an exposed belly full of a now dead baby. No matter Elain was in no fear of that condition, and she was lean, and eternally young, and fit to a fault, because she looked just about as ruined as her sister used to be, buckled up with the weight of complicated news and exhaustion.

“Can we stop?” she had asked, the spindly little wheedle of her voice cutting through the dirt, giving him pause and making him crook his head to look at her from under his hood. The smoky emptiness around them wasn’t the right location to camp, but she seemed sincere in her query, as if she couldn’t really understand there wasn’t a single good thing in the place.

He had replied only with a long silence, so she had thrown her head up toward the leaky gauze of the dirty clouds and made a sound partway wail, partway chuckle, mirthless and murky much like the heavens she was shouting at.

“Quit hollering,” he had warned her, resuming his march. “You never know what goddamn demon you’d be calling to come try you for a bite.”

He had thought she’d learned her lesson by now, but deep down she was still the fresh fawn he’d met that fateful day, scared by the world and yet still ready to put her nose to every flower and her fingers to every stone. She still hadn’t learned when to fold and when to fight back, but she was getting there, so she had moved until they reached what might’ve been an olive grove, the tree stumps burned and gnarled. Dead things crunched underfoot, bones or seeds or both, all mashed-up and slowly turning to dust. He listened for the sound of her following, a soft tread to his heavy steps, and let his body go quiet when he heard it.

It was the lay of the day and the growing ink of the night that had dragged them to the relatively intact temple. The door was missing, and nearly all the glasses were busted, but inside, aside the waste and ruin, the old world awaited in all its glory with hues of blue and lively yellow, the color of sunflowers and the Morrigan's hair, another futile loss in a war they had brought upon themselves almost by accident.

“We can stop here,” he said, anticipating an echo of his voice that never came. “For a night only, just so we’re clear.”

With a relieved sight she lowered the pack from her shoulders, and grime kissed her fingertips when she touched the pew she was standing closest to, the wood worn and weathered. The silvery moonlight coming from the window wrapped cool through her hair, climbing her face like ghostly vines, forking its way into the shadow of her ear. He felt something start in his stomach, watching her mirror movements she wasn’t even aware she was mirroring, his head over-full of thoughts, bursting at the seams.

“I haven’t been in one before,” she said.

“In a temple?” he questioned, waiting for her to reach him to the altar.

“I’ve seen images in books, read about them,” she explained. “But I guess I never thought they could be so pretty.”

“We seeing the same thing here, my lady?” he asked, and she threw him a look meant to whiter, something to which he wasn’t immune to, nor he could pretend he was, the tick at the arch of his cheekbones and the rumbled tremor of what might be his heartbeat in his ears proof enough.

When she took the last step, and was finally right in front of him, he noticed a bright red bead ready to spill from her left ring finger, so he flipped out a hand like she was some thorn in his side he can’t wait to pick out and crush under his heel – in a twisted and sick way, she fucking was – and he put her wound into his mouth, feeling like a monster watching the maid he kidnapped look horrified as he staunched her sweet, holy blood with his tongue.

“There,” he said tonelessly after he inspected the cut, the metal taste lingering on his buds. “All better now.”

After that, she made a bed for herself in the dipped stone beneath what was left of the altar. The cloth was gone, the little idols chipped and flayed, and she looked too dead with her arms crossed over her chest, her hands up to cup each bloom of shoulder.

“You cold?” he asked from his spot near the wall when she shivered, although he already knew the answer. He had watched her curl up like a baby under her threadbare blanket and he had begrudgingly given her his cloak too many times to keep acting like she was still some perfect stranger, but it was safer this way, it made easier to hawk up and spit out the thought of pulling her head into his lap to stroke her hair smooth against her skull until his warmth bled through into her skin.

“No,” she lied, part of a well-worn routine. He watched her a bit longer, listened as she chattered her pretty white teeth so hard it sounded like she was about to break every single one of them. As he did every night for the last couple weeks, he tried to not pay mind to it, to the thick plumes of white coming out of her mouth, because, after all, it wasn’t his problem, but the longer she chattered, the further he got annoyed. It was more disturbing than her usual blabbing, probably because she wasn’t doing it on purpose, and it pulled a string in his chest to see her fighting against something that will inevitably win. So he got up, threw his weapons and bandolier near her pack, and lay next to her, in hope to keep her warm enough to shut up. Slowly, he shrugged out of his long coat, the tattered ends unable to offer much protection but the fabric still warm and thick enough around the top to protect her from the creeping wind. Being so close to her was distasteful, and she will probably kick him once she woke, but for now the sleeping Elain had figured out there was a new heat source nearby and she turned to face him, one of her arms snaking around his waist and pulling herself as close as possible. When his mind still allowed him to sleep soundly enough, he happened to get lost in dreams of undone corsets, spills of white cotton and the cool skin underneath, but with the real Elain, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck was enough to make his mind reeling from both shock and complete bafflement. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged, let alone by a woman in a bed, if the alcove they were in could be called that, but it didn’t stop him from warming up her ribcage, the tender bloom of her throat and the notch of her collarbone.

“Better?” he asked, well aware she would’ve never replied, even if she was awake, so he snuffed a sound awfully similar to laughter and closed his eyes as well, hoping at least tomorrow on their walk, he was going to find her a better damn blanket than him.

[shippy-from-apocalypse]

Ok im Very sleepy rn it's 2 am bare with me

What do we think Jon would think of How The fandom sees him? And I don't mean this in a pedantic "oh fandom bad because dumbed down and Insert Petty Headcanon Disagreement"

I mean this entirely in a "How would Jon, The man who believes himself to be an Irredeemable monster who is to blame for everything that ever went wrong, react to Just so so many people listening to his shortcommings and ultimately seeing his side"

Like yeah everyone agrees he's kind of an asshole sometimes but he is so beloved by The fans?

I'm sure some people did but I've never seen anyone doubting his humanity or blaming him for the horrors™ he Just clearly understood as his fault? Like yeah Martin tried telling him it wasn't but what I'm getting at is

I love to think about what Jon would do If he saw just the ocean of people who listened to (what he considers to be)

the most unsympathetic person in the world becoming a monster and making choices that brought the literal apocalypse upon humanity

and pretty much everyone saying "he did the best anyone could reasonably expect and he is not a bad person for being caught in the crossfire of an impossible situation with no good solutions"

remember that time in mag 187 a lady grabbed jon in fear and he shouted and presumably pushed her away? and everyone and their mother defended jon's humanity because that was a textbook trauma response i think he would break down crying if he saw that

[lilydvoratrelundar]

I think Church on Ruby Road has finally firmly cemented my opinion that Murray Gold should not have come back.

[whentherewerebicycles]

also I can’t believe he learned how to breastfeed (without a nipple shield or anything) right when I was ready to be done. like come on kid. read the room. can’t you tell this emotional journey is over