#warpath: images

[immortalmuses]

New Mutants (2019) #24

ㅤㅤㅤ"Shut up. You've fought, night and day, to hold up your people. You've broken bones and lost blood to protect those who need protecting. ㅤㅤㅤI'm proud of you, James. You've done enough. Let me shoulder your burden for a while. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤRest."

[immortalmuses]

Can we just talk about how James literally ricochets a bottle off John's unbreakable skin in order to hit an Orchis Agent? Because it was so unnecessary but so awesome

The Proudstar Family - Thunderbird (John Proudstar), Warpath (James Proudstar) and Grandma Lozen Proudstar, are in charge of Camp Gozhoo where they shelter the mutant refugees. However, the Orchis soldiers had invaded their place and they started to harass the mutants. This prompts the Proudstar Brothers to fight off the Orchis soldiers. Also, Grandma Lozen stood up to the Orchis soldiers showing no fear as she laughs in their faces defiantly.

X-Men Unlimited Infinity Comic # 121, 2024

[corkinavoid]

DDxDC The More The Merrier

Exactly a year after Talia brought Damian to Bruce, she shows up again. With another child. That looks like a carbon copy of Damian. She introduces him as Danyal, Damian's twin that was in an undercover mission for the last few years.

Bruce's eye twitches, but he deals with it. At least it's not a clone - Damian proved his mother's words to be true, Danyal really is his twin brother. So the Bats are just kind of forced to accept the fact. And the kid.

Danyal is a literal fucking menace. Contrary to Damian, he doesn't stab or bite, but he is absolutely chaotic. And, in addition to that, he has zero self-preservation instincts. None of it. The only two people in the family he has a truce with are Cass and Steph. Cass, because he has yet to take her by surprise, and Steph, because she is his partner in crime. Tim, though, Tim is on the verge of going insane with two little assassin bats running around the manor.

A year later, on the anniversary of Damian and Danyal's arrival, Talia shows up again. With, you guessed it, another kid. This one is a bit older - sixteen or so - and he has an angry glare that can be compared only to Jason's on a warpath. Dante, he calls himself, and the Demon Twins narrow their eyes on him. Bruce knows this look intimately. Sibling rivalry at its finest.

The next year is full of said sibling rivalry, performed by three highly skilled assassins. Dick is constantly worried one day one of them will die, and not because of a Rogue attack. The kids are fucking wild, acting like rabid dogs on steroids. They destroyed a wall once by throwing Dante through it. Alfred gave them a lecture. It didn't help.

The next year, Bruce opens the door to Talia even before she rings the doorbell. He looks at the four-year-old girl that looks like a mirror image of Damian, Danyal and Dante, and asks, tired and defeated:

"How many more?"

Talia only smiles. The girl looks at him with big, innocent puppy eyes that don't fool Bruce anymore.

Tim, who watches the scene through the surveillance cameras in the Batcave, pulls up a file and starts drafting his last will.

[anthurak]

Something I’ve always found rather curious about the Adventure Time fandom, specifically Bubbline shippers, is that nobody seems to talk about how the show slipped in what might be the most angsty, hardcore and emotionally raw Bubbline stories disguised as a wacky Rashomon-style recap in the episode Ketchup.

Like it’s pretty clear that Marceline is doing the whole ‘Lollipop Girl and Rockstar Girl’ puppet-show because she doesn’t want to traumatize BMO with what happened while they, Finn and Jake were gone, and also because she herself doesn’t want to revisit those memories directly.

But when we start reading between the lines and recognize that Marceline’s embellishments are really more to tone DOWN events, I think we get a very stark and raw depiction of what Marceline was doing when Patience set off Ooo’s elemental apocalypse.

Just to kick things off, how much does anyone want to bet that this joke translates to ‘Marceline and Bubblegum had a fight and Marcy was giving Bonnie some space… and because of that, Marceline wasn’t there to protect Bonnie when she was kidnapped by Patience.’?

Kinda adds another layer to Marcy’s whole ‘I was so afraid something bad would happen to you’ breakdown in Come Along With Me, doesn’t it?

Next we have ‘Rockstar Girl smacking off the potato-heads growing on her’ which pretty easily translates to; ‘while everyone else was getting overrun by the elements, Marceline was able to fight off the elemental contamination for possibly entire days while she tried to find a way to help Bubblegum’. And given what we see with Finn and Jake only able to resist the contamination for maybe a few hours at a time, and how willpower was one of the only things that could hold it off, that says a LOT about just how DESPERATE Marcy was to help Bonnie. I mean, you want a really hardcore and messed up image? Imagine if Marceline was actively cutting or RIPPING off the contaminated parts of herself to keep it from spreading and regrowing those parts with her vampiric regeneration?

Then we have ‘Rockstar Girl went after the Blue Tranch’, which I can only imagine translates to ‘Marceline going on a GOLB-DAMMNED WARPATH to hunt down Patience St. Pim’. And let’s remember that A. Patience was currently a super-charged Elemental and B. Marceline would still be fighting off elemental contamination herself, whether the Candification from Bubblegum, the Ice-ification from Patience, or even both.

I mean, when we think about it; ‘Rockstar Girl played some really loud music that the Blue Tranch didn’t like’ quite possibly translates to the most insane battle of the entire show. Like on one side we’ve got Patience St. Pim, seasoned Elemental who could already make Ice King look like an amateur, super-charged with elemental energy making her probably the most powerful Ice Elemental in thousands if not millions of years. And on the other side, we’ve got Marceline, consumed and possibly more than half-crazed with rage, fear and desperation to help Bonnie, going ALL-OUT with her numerous vampire powers, possibly some of her demonic powers, all while fighting off the encroaching elemental contamination.

And if ‘The Blue Tranch begged Rockstar Girl to stop and go away’ is anything to go by, I think we can assume that Marcy utterly WRECKED Patience’s SHIT. As in, Patience may well have ended this fight with an axe in her gut, a claw choking the life out her and Marceline threatening to devour her very SOUL if she didn’t tell her how to help Bonnie.

(Here’s another fun thought: Something that notably separates Patience from the other current elementals of Ooo is that whereas Princess Bubblegum, Flame Princess and Slime Princess are all physical manifestations OF their elements (Gum, Fire and Slime, respectively), while Patience is human. Yet when we see her during the arc, she seems to have lost her human body and assumed fully elemental form as well. Now we could of course assume that this is simply due to the elemental overcharge just like the others. Buuuuttt… what if Patience was FORCED to assume this new form because her human body could no longer SURVIVE after the utter THRASHING she received from Marceline?)

Finally, we of course have the end. Something which seems all too easy to imagine even with Marceline’s toning down of events:

Marcy rushing back to the Candy Kingdom as fast as she can. Even though she’s exhausted from her fight with Patience and the days spent fighting off the elemental contamination. To the point where now she can only barely hold it off and maintain her sanity. Perhaps she wonders if this is what it was like for Simon during their time together…

Even though she knows speeding back this fast is only draining her strength faster, but that doesn’t matter to her. Because what matters right now is the trinket, potion, or something or other clutched in her hand that Patience gave her. Something that Marcy can’t be sure will even work. But she hopes it will. That’s the only thing keeping her going, the only thing holding her together at this point.

A blind, desperate HOPE that this will save Bonnie…

When she finally returns to what was once the Candy Kingdom, Marceline finds the massive tower of gum. Perhaps like Finn and Jake later on, Marceline at first isn’t sure what she’s looking at and thinks Bonnie is at the top. So she flies right to the top in a burst of speed that drains her already dwindling strength even further.

And there Marcy finds Bonnie. Or rather, what Bonnie has BECOME. Perhaps she doesn’t even remember Marcy.

Perhaps for Marcy, this is like losing Simon all over again. Except instead of the father who raised and cared for her over ten years, it’s a woman that Marcy has loved for the better part of a millennium. A woman she was only just able to start loving again after so long. But now, just like Simon… she’s gone.

And this realization does what all the elemental power of Ooo could not.

It breaks Marceline.

Just like that, Marceline doesn’t even try to use the ‘antidote’ Patience gave her. Instead, perhaps Marcy gives Bonnie one last kiss and just… accepts the madness.

Because now, at least they can be together.

[illyrianbitch]

Where I Left My Lover

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.

Warnings: angst!!!! & bad decisions.

Word Count: 3.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

With a forceful push, the door to Rhysand’s office swung open as Nesta swept into the room, eyes blazed with a fury that made Azriel swallow. Cassian’s loud footsteps echoed as he followed after his mate.

"Tell me it isn't true," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

Rhysand moved to intercept her, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to stop her from her warpath. "Nesta, perhaps we should—"

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nesta shoved him away with a forceful gesture, her gaze fixed on Azriel. The shadowsinger stood eerily still, even his shadows unmoving. 

"Azriel," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Tell me it isn't true."

His gaze faltered, and suddenly he found himself unable to meet Nesta's accusing, burning stare. He looked away, his shadows curling into themselves behind him, as if retreating in shame.

Nesta's anger flared, hands clenching at her side. She breathed out sharply, the sound a mixture of frustration and rage. Whipping around to face Rhysand, she leveled a searing gaze at him.

"I expect something like this from you," she spat, her tone laced with contempt.

Rhysand's expression hardened into a withering glare, but before he could respond, Nesta turned back to Azriel. "But you?" she continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're supposed to be better than this."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth together. From behind Nesta, he watched as Cassian approached, staring at him with a frown and furrowed brows. Azriel looked back to Nesta.

“You don’t understand-”

 "I don't care," she retorted, her tone icy. "You cannot do this. Not to Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Azriel's heart clenched, a wave of sadness washing over him like a relentless tide. He swallowed hard.

"This is for Y/n," he responded, his voice low. Flat.  "To keep her safe."

"That is not your decision to make," Nesta snarled, "You are stripping her of her right to choose, and you know deep down she wouldn't want this."

There was something about the way Nesta spoke, how she stared at him with such disappointment, that made him angry. Azriel was making the right decision. He was being selfless, yet everyone was seeing it the other way, seeing him as some monster.

Within seconds, his control slipped, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with a dark intensity. "She almost died!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with desperation. "She almost died because of me. I don't care what she wants. I'm doing this to keep her safe."

Cassian moved quickly, placing a firm hand on Nesta's shoulder. “Watch it,” he growled as he met Azriel's gaze.

Azriel blinked. And then he was composing himself once more, moving back into a straight posture. "I'm doing this because I love her," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow.

"No," Nesta said, her voice sharp. "This is not love. This is wrong. And if you go through with it, I'll never let you forget it."

As Nesta turned to leave, Azriel felt a pang of regret gnaw at his heart. A wave of guilt washed over him at the realization that he had disappointed someone he cared about so deeply. He truly cared about Nesta, respected her strength and conviction, and the thought of her walking away, angry and disillusioned, made him sick to his stomach. Had he lost two people today? Was he truly doing the right thing?

Yes, he reminded himself. Images of you conjured in his brain— your pale, bruised and bloody body, the way you laid limp in his arms. He thought back to how he’d relished in the screams of the soldiers who had tortured you, how he took his time carving them out for what they had done. He thought about how long you’d been in that bed, unmoving with shallow breaths, how scared he’d been that he’d lost you. You were human. You were something he could lose. And his life, his duties, had almost cost him your life.

Azriel looked up to meet Rhysands gaze, who had been standing in quiet observation, making no move to talk or intervene. Azriel had already spoken to Rhys, had gotten the same discussion from him. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who was shaking his head as he stared out of the door his mate had left through.

“Nes is right,” Cassian said, “I mean, we’ve done our fair share of questionable things, but this?”

He paused for a moment, eyes darting between his two brothers.

“It’s what needs to be done,” Azriel said.

Cassian shook his head. “No. It’s what you think needs to be done. And you’re wrong.”

Azriel let out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched. 

“Rhys,” Cass said, turning to face the High Lord. “C’mon. You know better than this. You really think this is okay?”

Rhysand held his gaze. For a moment, Cass believed he’d gotten through to his brother, that perhaps he’d realized how far this was going to go, how wrong Azriel was. But Rhysand simply straightened his posture.

“I’m not a part of this,” was all he responded.

Cass shook his head once more, poking a finger into Rhysand’s chest.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Az has lost his goddsdamned mind. Why are you entertaining this?”

It was Azriel who moved next, walking up to Cassian and pushing him away with a small shove. He gave a snarl, shadows swirling around his forearms. Cass looked down at the hand pressed against his chest, and then up at Azriel with flared nostrils and a look of deep disappointment in his eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel growled, “You think this is something I want to do?”

Cassian pushed him off.

“I think you’ve lost sight of what is fear and what is reason.”

“Enough,” Rhysand commanded, walking to the two males to separate them with his extended hands. He turned to Cassian and let out a small exhale. Cass saw it, then, the sadness in his eyes. 

“In the centuries that Azriel has been a part of this family, a part of this court, he has not asked for favors. He has asked me now, and I owe it to him.”

Cassian let out a small scoff. It was a losing game. They were all stubborn— it came with their lineage, with their dna. So he settled at casting Azriel another glance and frowned.

"This is selfish, Az," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "She is not only yours. She’s family. She’s Nesta’s friend. She’s my friend—"

Something flickered in Azriel's eyes, a weariness settling over him as he grew tired of defending his actions. "Do you want her as a friend or do you want her alive?"

Cassian slightly recoiled, a small tick in his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

“Cassian,” Rhys said slowly, “Leave.”

Cassian rubbed his jaw, a heavy anger simmering beneath his skin as he shot one last glare at Azriel. "Whatever," he muttered in disappointment, "I can’t even look at you."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The soft chirping of birds filled the air, the sounds a gentle caress against Azriel’s skin. The beauty around him stood out in stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung over him like a suffocating cloak. He’d always loved your little home, loved how secluded it was, how quiet. Everything was slower here, more timid, more calm. 

You were inside with Rhysand, now, and Azriel could hear the faint echo of your voices. It didn’t last long. Within moments it went quiet, and Az clenched his fists at his side.

The longer he lingered outside, the more he felt the pull of your presence, the echo of your touch haunting him like a ghost. Azriel fought every urge to run back inside, to hold you and kiss you again like he had moments prior. It wasn't long enough. He should have taken another minute, another hour. But he knew, deep down, it would never be enough, that it would never be the right time. The longer he spent with you, the longer he felt your touch, it broke him even more.

Azriel’s shadows pulled at him, wrapping around his ankles as if to pull him back inside. He scolded them, his wings twitching as he slightly kicked his feet. They swarmed once more. They were angry at him too. Azriel knew this. He felt it in their touch, in the way they’d whisper. He did his best to ignore it.

He wasn’t being selfish. He was putting you first.

There was a faint creak as the door opened behind him. Swiftly, he turned around, his eyes locking with Rhysand's as his brother stepped out and closed the door behind him with a deliberate slowness.

Rhysand gave Azriel a small, curt nod.  "It's done.”

Azriel's chest tightened, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Is she-" he began, his voice catching in his throat.

“She’s alright.”

There was a heavy ache in Azriel’s chest now, something tender like an open wound. His heart felt hollow. Empty. He looked down at the ground, at the shadows at his feet, and tightly shut his eyes. 

Rhysand’s face softened. “Az,” he started, but Azriel simply shook his head. 

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. And before Rhysand could respond, he disappeared.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel stood outside the small inn, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated at the threshold. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't risk drawing attention to himself or risk the chance of undoing what he’d chosen to do. But the pull of his own longing had been too strong to resist. He’d lasted longer than expected, but even then, he’d been in agony. He was restless, angry, and above all else, he was lonely.

With a deep breath, he adjusted his posture, making a mental check of the glamour he’d put around himself, concealing his wings and any other identifying features of his. Even with the cover, he kept his wings tightly folded against his back, just in case something went awry.

And then he entered, casting a wary glance around the room as he made his way through the crowded floor. His hands were tucked securely in his pockets, his shadows coiled around him like protective tendrils. He’d done his best to make them blend into the black material of his clothing, told them to stay put and ripple like fabric would. 

Finding a small table in the corner, Azriel made his way over, but as he lowered himself into the seat, a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him of the folly of his actions. This was stupid, dangerous, and entirely self-indulgent. Dangerous, dangerous, his shadows echoed. He tightened his jaw. He would only be here for a few moments, he told himself, he just wanted to see you— once. That was all.

His shadows whispered louder, a small anxious buzz in his head. He needed to leave before it was too late.

But before he could make a move, he looked up and froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hello,” you said timidly, giving him a small smile. Azriel’s heart leapt as the sound, a sudden rush of warmth filling his veins. Your hair was shorter now than the last time he saw you, and you wore a few dainty gold chains around your neck that he’d never seen. Had you bought those recently? Made them with your friends? They looked beautiful on you. And you had so much color. You looked alive. You looked happy.

A moment passed as Azriel simply stared at you, and then he was shaking his head slightly, freeing himself of the daze he had fallen into. 

“Uh, hi- hello.” 

It was then he finally noticed the two small glasses in your hands, both filled slightly with an amber liquid. You followed his gaze, looking down at your own hands. You frowned slightly and then you extended one towards him. 

“I’m not sure why I brought this,” you admitted, “But here. This is for you.”

Azriel swallowed, gently reaching out to take the small cup from your hands. His fingers brushed against your skin ever so slightly and he nearly jumped at the contact, a tingling sensation filling his body.  Your brows furrowed as you observed his hands, your gaze tracing over the perfectly smoothed, tan skin.

He had them glamoured too, just to be safe. 

He watched as you blinked, your expression shifting with a mixture of confusion, as if you sensed something wrong. A wave of sickening guilt rolled through his stomach. His shadows circled at his feet— subtly enough that they’d blend in to the darkness of the cornered floor, but strong enough to where Azriel felt them, pawing at him like dogs to an owner.

“Thank you,” Azriel finally brought himself to say.

Your gaze instantly flickered back to his eyes. You scanned his face, taking in his features, the brown of his eyes. And then you gave him another smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks. You looked over to the empty seat in front of him. 

 "Do you mind?" 

Azriel felt a surge of flustered panic coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to compose himself. "Oh, yes, of course, please," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He readjusted himself in his own chair.

As you settled into the seat across from him, Azriel couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He watched, mesmerized, as you took a small sip from the glass, the soft curve of your lips bringing back every memory he’d held of them.

He watched as you scanned the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, to break the spell. This would only make things worse for him. But try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't tear himself away from indulging in your presence. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to lean forward, to reach out and caress you.

You caught Azriel's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips at his sudden shyness. "I'm sorry for interrupting your quiet time," you said.

Azriel shifted in his seat. "No," he replied, a bit too quickly, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, I don't mind."

You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that made his heart flutter– something just as painful as it was comforting.

 "This may sound silly, but it feels like I was supposed to come talk to you," you confessed, your voice soft.

A tug in his chest. “Really?" 

"Yes," you replied, your gaze drifting momentarily to the crowd before returning to him. "I'm quite good at listening. Maybe you need a good ear."

Azriel chuckled softly. You always were great at listening, even better at talking, too. It was a perfect balance. He’d always loved that about you. Your presence was so calming, so quiet compared to the loudmouths he called family, even if he loved them dearly. He missed it, how gentle you were. 

"I don't know if that's what I need.”

You tilted your head, studying him with a curious expression. "What brought you here today?" 

Azriel thought for a moment, his gaze falling to his glass as he traced a finger along its rim. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from you, not when you were always so good at reading him, so stubborn at getting what you really wanted.

After a brief pause, he finally admitted, "A girl."

Your eyes lit up with interest, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, “She somebody special?”

Azriel met your gaze, attempting to muster a smile, but a lump formed in his throat, choking back the words he struggled to say. He bounced his knee nervously under the table. “She was. I can’t seem to let her go.”

Your frown deepened at the admission, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry," you murmured. 

But Azriel quickly shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he reassured you, "It's alright."

Silence enveloped you for a moment.

"She was the love of my life," Azriel said, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. He glanced up at you, instantly finding your attentive gaze that met his own.

You remained quiet, but he knew the look on your face. Eyes wide, slight furrowed brows, a small smile. You were urging him to continue, waiting for him to finish, to be heard.

"Beautiful, kind, funny," he continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Also a great listener."

As he spoke, memories of moments shared with you flooded his mind, each beautiful and painful in their own rite, a haunting sense of longing drowning his senses. 

You gave a small breathy laugh. 

"No wonder you can't let her go," you said. There was a ting of sadness in your gentle voice. Azriel wondered what it was for. 

"Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze drifting back to his glass.

Silence settled between you once more, the air heavy with every unspoken thought and emotion that Azriel felt. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he let it slip. But before he could stop himself,  Azriel looked up, his gaze searching yours as he asked, "Have you ever felt that way?" 

You paused, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. For a moment, you opened your mouth to respond, but the words eluded you, leaving you with a furrowed brow and a frown of uncertainty.

You slumped slightly in your chair, a heaviness settling over you as you admitted, "No, I haven't." 

Azriel's heart sank at your response, a pang of disappointment coursing through him despite his efforts to suppress it. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there might have been a glimmer of memory within you, somewhere deep in your bones that recognized him. 

He didn’t know why he pressed further, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from talking. He felt his shadows slowly rising from his feet, now surrounding his thighs. He pushed them back. 

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

A part of him dared to hope yet again, to cling to the possibility that you feel the same yearning, the same ache that he’d felt for years. But even as he spoke the words, another part of him recoiled in shame, knowing that he had no right to ask, no right to expect anything from you. He had dug his own grave. This was his doing. This was his choice— and he was being selfish. He was being so utterly selfish as he sat there before you. 

Still, the longing lingered, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of his own self-imposed exile. But as he watched you, the sadness etched in your features, he knew that his hopes had been in vain.

Your gaze met his, troubled and uncertain, and you hesitated before answering, "I— No. I don't think I have."

Azriel felt a wave of sadness wash over him at your response, a deep ache settling in his chest. His heart was burning now, a pain that made him queasy, made him want to cry and scream at the same time. He decided this was worst than any torture– having to sit across from you as a stranger, as someone who was unable to touch you, hold you, tell you how beautiful you looked, and listen to you say you’d never been in love. Because you had been. You were deeply in love, so in love it scared you both. 

A hot anger filled him. He mourned his old life. He mourned his future with you. You were something real. He had something real. But his past, his duty, his life, it had prevented him from keeping it all, from indulging in a life much simpler than his own, one where he could sit across from you in a run-down inn and watch drunken village males make bets with one another. 

But it was still his fault. He had done this. And you sat before him, a look of frustration on your face, as if you could feel something was off. Shame filled him. He needed to leave. 

Quickly he brought his cup to his lips and chugged the remainder of his drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter sensation that he welcomed with open arms. 

"Thank you for the company," Azriel said as he pushed himself up from the table.

Your gaze followed him, a flicker of concern in your eyes as you watched him rise. "You're leaving?" you asked with a frown.

Azriel nodded, his movements stiff as he straightened his posture. "It was very nice meeting you," he replied, his voice strained as he turned to go.

But before he could take another step, you spoke again, your words stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," you said, the chair sliding on the floor as you stood.

Azriel turned back to face you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your next words. It was getting harder to breathe now, his heartbeat shuddering in his ears. He needed to leave. 

"I hope that one day I'll experience a love like that," you said, pausing for a moment. With a soft, but hesitant, smile, you continued, "That one day, someone will love me like you loved her."

A flicker of surprise crossed Azriel's features. His mouth fell open slightly as he took a sharp inhale. And then he was swallowing heavily, blinking away the pressure building up behind his eyes. 

“You will,” he responded, his voice a slight croak. He cleared his throat, looking to the floor for a second. Then, his gaze was holding yours for a lingering moment. "Goodbye, Y/n.”

You watched his retreating figure with a small smile on your lips. But then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, a realization struck you. You frowned.

Your feet moved of their own accord, propelling you forward faster than your mind could process. You dashed to the entrance, flinging open the door as sunlight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.

"Wait! How did you know my—" you began, the words catching in your throat as you stepped outside, your eyes scanning the area in search of Azriel's retreating form. But to your dismay, there was no one there, no trace of him to be found, only the empty street stretched out before you, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.

Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you finished your sentence, "name.”

Your name.

How did he know your name?

Frowning, you brought a hand to your chest, feeling a small burning fluttering sensation in your ribs. With a sigh, you bit the inside of your cheek. You turned around and made your way back inside, your heart now heavy with a sensation you didn’t quite know how to name.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: since in death & his reaper azriel forgot about reader, i obvs had to balance the scales and write one where the reader forgets az. we luv angst!!! hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻

[immortalmuses]

@fatummortem​ 🥺

New Mutants (2019) #29

Writer: Danny Lore

Artist: Guillermo Sanna

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

part two of this original ficlet

-

It’s a couple days later when Robin Buckley is in Steve Harrington’s bedroom when it fully hits her. That this boy, not much older than she is- is her best friend. There’s a million universes out there, Robin is one of the ones who believes in that fully and completely. Every little change splitting off and dividing, creating and creating and creating.

Robin, however, can’t even begin to imagine the universes where she doesn’t know Steve. Doesn’t know him fully and completely and as absolutely wholeheartedly as she does. Can’t imagine that there are galaxies where she doesn’t know him as well if not better than herself sometimes.

But he’s hers here.

“Do you want to move in?” Steve’s question is soft spoken, and Robin is quick to turn to catch his eyes in her own. He’s leant up against his desk, a Rubik’s cube in between his fingers. His head is cocked slightly, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes and Robin’s meet. “Rob?”

“Yeah?” Robin allowed herself to grin, a shy and slow curve of her lips, even as she pushed her statistics homework off of her lap. Steve nodded once then twice, a sharp bob of his chin that was so firm it almost caused his chin to make contact with his chest. “You want me to move in with you, dingus?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured, soft and sweet, before he tossed the Rubik’s cube toward Robin. She didn’t catch it, she never could really, but it did land in her lap- completely solved. Robin plucked it into her hands, set about messing it up again, so Steve could solve it. “I wanted to ask, since I know you’re eighteen now and-”

“And since my parents still think all of this was an earthquake?” Robin supplied knowingly, before she threw the Rubik’s cube back to Steve. He caught it from the air with his left hand and shyly nodded, before he set about solving the puzzle cube once more. Robin is quiet for a second, just before she continues on. “What about yours?”

“My parents?” Steve asked with a slight furrowed brow, his head cocked slightly to the side. Robin let out a soft hum, though nodded when she saw that Steve hadn’t heard her well. “They uh, aren’t coming back to Hawkins, Rob.”

Robin felt her heart lurch as she rubbed her palms along her jean clad thighs, brow instantly taut as she eyed Steve. He had diverted his eyes, eyes now focused on the way he moved the Rubik’s cube. She had never been good at those, really, and had doubted Steve’s ability in solving them when he first brought the thing into the back of Scoops A’hoy.

That was, of course, until she saw this.

The modes where Steve’s brain whirred by him too fast, his past of dealing with the Upside Down heavy on his shoulders. No matter the jokes the kids tended to make in Steve’s expense, he really wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to puzzles, at the very fucking least.

Robin shook her head, wiggling further onto the carpet to be able to extend one of her legs. She hooks her ankle around Steve’s, smiling a little bit softer when he immediately eased into the touch. His shoulders stopped being tense and up by his ears, easing down to their natural resting point. Robin let’s it stay quiet for a beat, then two, before she starts to speak again.

“I love you.” Robin let herself murmur the words easily, even when Steve’s eyes are immediately glassy and soft. His brows furrow and she let her own furrow back, a mirror image to his. “Like this all-consuming aching love that I’ve never felt for anyone. Not like this.”

“Robbie-”

“No, let me get this out there.” Robin shook her head quickly as she scrambled forward, coming to kneel at Steve’s side. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, thumbs curled against his cheekbones as she tilted his chin up so his eyes would be met with her own. She knew what she must look like, like she’s on a warpath. (And in her mind, she is.) “I don’t think I have ever loved someone as much as I love you, dingus.”

“You are it for me, Steven Richard Harrington. You are my soulmate, and you-” Robin let herself sniffle, let Steve cradle her own cheeks in his palms. He mimicked the way she held him, hands gentle and thumbs cradling softly against her cheekbones. His thumbs brush even softer under her eyes, sweeping away tears Robin knew had managed to come out. “You deserve someone to tell you that every fucking day, and if it has to be me saying it to you for it to sink in… then so be it.”

“I love you, Robbie.” Steve’s own voice is wet and almost muffled sounding, brows still taut as his eyes shimmer with his own unshed tears. Robin makes sure to be gentle as she pressed her fingers harder into Steve’s face, squeezing his cheeks as she meets his eyes intently.

A beat passed. Then another. Robin let Steve stare unabashedly into her eyes, even when his own softened at whatever he had found inside of them.

“What?” Robin is almost scared to ask the question, even as Steve’s smile twitched at the very corner. Steve hummed softly, thumbs doing a final swoop up Robin’s cheeks, before he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Dingus?”

“You like Nancy.”

The statement is enough for Robin’s hands to fall off of Steve’s face, and she could feel the way her jaw slackened slightly. Steve is smug, almost, in the way he leaned further against the base of his desk as Robin scrambled backwards. He’s even quicker though, catching her ankle with his own- and causing her to land with a thud onto her butt that’s only minimally softened by his carpet.

“How did you-”

“You’ll find, that I’m one of the ones that knows what being in love with her is like.” Steve’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge on the back of it that caused Robin to swallow. Robin isn’t sure what fluttered hard in her stomach and chest, an ache of a feeling that caused her mouth to go dry and her brows to furrow. Steve licked at the corners of his mouth for a second, fingers flying faster as he turned and twisted at the Rubik’s cube. “And I just… let me say this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Robin heard her voice croak, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she’s swimming in molasses as she watched Steve. His shoulders are up closer to his ears again, before he seemed to make the conscious decision to lower them. After a beat, the Rubik’s cube is solved, and Robin lets him toss it into her lap again.

“I don’t care that you like her at all, really.” Steve’s voice is soft and his words are spoken with a slow tilt to them, brows still furrowed as his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. Robin watched him worry at it for a bit, before he let it go and began to speak again. “I was in love with her, I know, and she broke my heart in two-”

“Dingus-” Robin tried softly, but she let herself be cut off when Steve shook his head sharply. She instead, tossed the once more scrambled puzzle cube his way- and watched as he began to solve it again.

“If she…” Steve shook his head once, then twice, before his eyes met hers. There’s something there that’s lurking in them, a steel glimmer to them that Robin hasn’t seen before. He’s never really like this with her, not pulling on his King Steve persona like a personal shield again. “If she hurts you, Rob? Whatever friendship between her and I that’s somehow been salvaged? It’s… There is… I don’t care for a lot, not really anymore.”

Steve paused for a beat, shaking his head as he sniffled. He continued, speaking quieter and focused on his hands as he let the Rubik’s cube fall to his carpet.

“But if I ever have to chose between you and her? Rob, I’m going to pick you every time. And I want to be selfish and ask if you’d pick me too.”

Robin felt the tears then, hot and almost burning against her cheeks. Steve scrambled forward almost immediately, and Robin let out a gross even to her ears sounding sniffle as she let him cradle her to his chest. Robin reached up then, fingers searching and digging, pulling Steve closer to her. They entwine easily, and Robin can’t help but immediately think of Greek mythology.

There’s a story, one her mother used to tell her in place of fairytales. Of how the Greek philosopher, Plato, believed that humans used to have four arms and legs, and had two faces. Her mother always told it best, of how Zeus had deemed humans too prideful and split them as a form of punishment. Humans destined to walk the Earth searching for their other half, for their soulmate.

When she was little she used to think it would be romantic.

She knew better now.

She knew better because here she had Steve. And she may never get the chance or even the balls to tell Nancy Wheeler how she feels.

(That there are times where Robin looks at Nancy, and envisions a life where they are incandescently happy. Times where Robin can remember the burn and ache she felt for both Tammy and for Vickie, but that even together they don’t amount to what she feels for Nancy. That there are times where all Robin can do is just fucking wish and—)

She may never have a romantic soulmate.

Maybe it’s not in the cards for her in this reality, maybe that’s only something she can have in a different universe. Strangely, a part of her is okay with that.

Because here she has Steve. Here Steve has her.

And they’re SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve.

Two halves of a whole split by a God in a fit of rage, but somehow against all the odds they have managed to find each other and conjoin again.

Robin kept her voice soft as she pressed a soft kiss to Steve’s chest, and she left her lips there as she mumbled her next words. They’re the only words that fit, even though she wished she could bare her soul and mind completely, let him read and take his fill. Let him be comforted by her love.

As complete and unconditional as it is.

“I’d chose you in every fucking lifetime, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Robin squeezed her fingers more intently against Steve’s shoulders. Steve is quick to mimic her, giving Robin a few quick pulses of his fingers, before he spoke up after a beat.

“I think I have a crush on Eddie.”

Robin can’t help but explode into laughter.

Steve followed with his own shortly after.

—

hope you enjoyed! here’s the link for this fic if following along with it on ao3 is more your jam <3 more parts to come soon!

taglist:

@wonderland-girl143-blog @bxlthazar @estrellami-1 @plutoshelm @stevesbipanic @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @plyerice27 @justforthedead89 @nuttychaosface @princess-eddie @daydreaming-mood @anaibis @marsbars97 @messrs-weasley @beckkthewreck @he-she-steveharrington @practicallybegging @trashcanniballecter @theluckyalien @chaoticvictorianspirit @fantasyfr3ak @newtstabber @mightbeasleep @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @songbird-garden @thisisallicouldthinkof @emma-elsa-0000 @leather-and-freckles @shinekocreator @alex-whitley-187 @gay-little-bitch @pluto-pepsi @silentiumdelirium @kitchen-spoon @bossyknow-it-all

[raayllum]

Invert Life and Death Theory

Yesterday, the fandom received two season seven synopses that detail similar mysterious concepts:

The stakes have never been higher as Aaravos and Claudia are on the warpath, determined to destroy the Cosmic Order and invert life and death. With the world’s fate on the line, our heroes must be ready to sacrifice everything to save it.

As Aaravos and Claudia seek to destroy the Cosmic Order and invert life and death, our heroes must be literally ready to sacrifice anything and everything love and believe in to save the world!

I will touch on the 'sacrifice' portion likely here, and then further in another meta that was actually already sitting in my drafts about it (as we've known for a while that S7's main theme is sacrifice, even if I didn't expect it to be so blatantly spelled out in the summaries). But I digress.

Aaravos (and Claudia) want to destroy the Cosmic Order. They want to invert life and death, to turn it upside down (much like Aaravos' chest star I might imagine). Presumably this is to make the Cosmic Order mortal-mortal so that they can be permanently killed and Aaravos can have his proper revenge. He might also be working towards trying to reassemble Leola's spirit somehow.

But what is that attempted inversion going to look like? Well... It does contextualize the weird consistent emphasis his plans have had on the Moon and Sun specifically:

And we might finally know why:

Sun and Moon, Life and Death

In previous posts, I'd speculated there was more than just politics or revenge at stake in Aaravos seemingly killing Luna Tenebris and Queen Aditi 300 years ago. Of course the in-story explanation that's most obvious is that he wanted political instability, which I think is certainly true.

However, thus far there's not really a Reason in-text that it had to be those two. Why not another Earth dragon instead, or a Tidebound king? Throughout the series the elves that have gotten the most focus and worldbuilding have routinely been Moonshadow and Sunfire elves, and it didn't really have to be. And of course we could get into the weeds and say that Earth could've been associated with Life and Sun with death, etc etc. but the point stands that I think this series long focus on Moonshadow and Sunfire elves/philosophies in addition to Aditi and Luna Tenebris' deaths/disappearances makes a lot of sense if Sun = Life and Moon = Death, and these are the things that Aaravos wishes to invert upside down.

The fact that this reflective relationship between Sun and Moon possibly ties into Aaravos being in a mirror, characters having shadow selves running around in the narrative, and the emphasis on mirrored images in the dark magic dreams we see also makes sense.

Aaravos already toppled the Sun Forge and thereby Sun Primal on his way through to the Storm Spire. Going back to the Moon Nexus in S6 was a welcome callback to Through the Moon, but the Moon Nexus specifically having a portal between life and death... reminding us of that location because it's going to play a much bigger role next season (potentially like other characters, like Aanya) could be on the table. In taking Lux Aurea, Aaravos got the corrupted Sun staff after all.

Speaking of which, let's talk about

Rayla and Claudia

I don't think I have to explain why or routinely how Rayla is associated with the Moon as a Moonshadow elf. Secretive yet open, caught between love and duty, life and death, truth and lies, light and dark, Rayla embodies all this and more. Callum has also asked for her to be his Death if push comes to shove and he's possessed again, but she's also what has saved him in S6 from said threat of possession (and likely will again). This isn't to say that Aaravos needs a Moon arcanum and is going to take Rayla's (though I suppose he could), I think the likelier outcome is corrupting the Moon Nexus (and hence why you animate/rig Lujanne, Allen, and a new Phoe-Phoe design under your software at all). But it does mean I think Rayla will be a mirror to Claudia / whatever is happening with the Moon Nexus as a way to manipulate Callum, per usual.

Conversely, Claudia has wielded the corrupted Sun staff — a literally corrupted light that represents dark magic to her outright in S6, and one that she uses as a literal and metaphorical crutch — since season three, only occasionally using her father's staff with Viren only using the Sun staff for the Hearts of Cinder spell. She's a sun that's already been eclipsed by Aaravos, by death, in more ways than one. Someone who's walked a continually bloodier, darker path the further the show has gone on.

If and when Claudia gives up dark magic, she'll be 'restored' as the Sun — uncorrupted, bolstered by the truth ("Careful, if you tell the truth you will lose her"), shining brightly again. In the meantime, though, if Claudia is brought home in parallel with Callum being saved from dark magic corruption in S6, I think someone else will be Claudia's 'sun'. So let's talk about it.

Trials and Tests of Love

While we might see more — I could see Karim getting a trial on a technicality in S7 — as it stands now we see three former trials in the series. The first is in S4 among the Sunfire elves with Lucia, who ruined a sacred ritual by putting out a light, and is declared not innocent but worthy of life over death. Then we see Leola, who despite being truly innocent is condemned to death by the Star/First Elves and is made into nothing more than a light star known as Leola's Last Wish. Finally, we're going to seemingly have Rayla, whose actions did lead to the death of her troupe of Moonshadow assassins in the Silvergrove.

Just like with starlight vs moonlight vs sunlight with the Celestial elves, and Astrid + star magic creatures like Sir Sparklepuff in particular....

AARAVOS: Otherwise the sun will rise, and you will not.

We see this pattern of sun, star, and moon again with the trials alongside ideas of mercy, innocence, and concepts of paying the price.

Meanwhile, in season six, both Claudia and Callum were searching for their deep truths. Their path. Callum found his in Rayla and accepted it wholeheartedly. Claudia thought she'd find hers in Viren ("I'll look at him and I'll know / I need him to show me the right path"), but found only his body and the prison he left behind. Of course, the main reason that Viren died in season six was that he wanted to save Katolis, and more than that, he wanted to save his son.

She said that this was my home, and that my brother and I needed each other.

If Claudia is an eclipsed sun, a form of life turned death, than Soren is the uncorrupted version of the sun, ready and willing to guide her back if she'll just give him the chance. And in going back to Katolis, in sparing/saving Soren, Viren did help give Claudia what she needed in order to find her true path some day, too: a life with her brother and Terry at her side.

Claudia's first real test of love in the series was whether to choose the egg — the world, her father's wishes — over the safety and wellbeing of her family — her brother. She made the right choice.

I'm here.

It'd make sense if one of her final tests of love was a similar trial — maybe even if Callum under possession/Aaravos' control hurts Soren ("Oh I've been stabbed by the stab-prince!") — and Claudia once again chooses her brother over everything, just as he chooses for and fights for her. She ultimately chooses life over death, reflecting the massive change in herself and her character arc.

Likewise, Rayla being a Moonshadow elf saved from death ("I leapt to my certain death, but you spread your wings and you saved me" / "Finnegrin was going to kill you, I didn't have a choice") from Callum means breaking his promise, yes.

However, it also frees her up from needing to be an assassin and therefore from needing to behave like she's "already dead" or that Callum is. The possession/corruption would be a fate worse than death / metaphorical to literal death and rather than delivering either, Rayla would save him in turn. Like Claudia, she chooses life over death, symbolizing the same turning point. Callum, meanwhile, could get the Moon arcanum by realizing he has dark and light inside him; this may not mean a total blank slate (idk if they'd repeat that) from corruption, but a way to permanently throw off Aaravos' control of him regardless.

Life, over death.

Life and death working in harmony under principles of justice, mercy, and compassion.

Conclusion

This is more of rambling "notes on top of all this" place than a proper conclusion, but just a summary of stuff / some speculation for later:

Aaravos needed Moon and Sun stuff specifically from Luna Tenebris and Queen Aditi and that's why he killed them

Aaravos is going to successfully make the Cosmic Council mortal, even if that means making himself mortal.

This makes him more powerful than the Council and they may have reason to ally with our main team in order to take down Aaravos and/or be destroyed themselves

Rayla as Moon and Claudia as Sun reflect both life and death, but each will likely choose life over death; for Rayla this is about a certainty, for Claudia it's more up in the air if she'll have her redemption arc yet (I could see it getting pushed further to arc 3).

I think it'd be really nice if the inversion of life and death had broad implications meant some characters got to say goodbye, like Callum and Ez having a moment with Harrow and/or Sarai

And I think that's about it! What do you think inverting life and death may mean?

[amusingmusie]

I know it's not going to happen but what do you think a child between Nel & Alastor would be like? Personality wise or appearance

History Repeats Itself

This is goddamn ridiculous.

Heels click against shiny vinyl flooring as Nel tears off down the hallway, speeding past flyers promoting honors ceremonies and painted murals of happy children. Pushing open door after door and stomping hard enough to make her knees shake, she does nothing to hide her rage over such a bullshit situation. Her fingers twitch with the need for a goddamned cigarette, but she doesn’t trust herself to not light this private school aflame with it. Oh no, she’s not chancing that, not when she’d ruin the career she fought to earn and the schooling she pays out the ass for in one fell swoop. 

Her warpath only halts when she reaches a thick wooden door simply labeled as Dean’s Office. It’s becoming increasingly familiar as of late. With a barely contained growl, she knocks the door open, steps into the room, and prepares for battle.

“She is evil!”

“That’s a strong word. I prefer the term strong-willed instead.”

“Shut it! You’re a malignant tumor on this school!!!”

“Wow, that was a good one. You’re improving your vocabulary, congratulations!”

“DEVIL!”

“You know, anything you say can be held against you in court, I’d mind your words if I were you.”

“WE ARE NOT IN COURT!!!!!”

Nel watches a teenage girl hiss and spit pure venom with all the rage of a feral creature. Her dark eyes are blazing with unfiltered fury, something Nel herself recognizes all too well. There’s no need to ask what has her raging- oh no, Nel is aware of the issue, she sure fucking knows exactly who is responsible for this mess. 

Turning on her heels, Nel stares down the little shit sitting primly in a chair by the flabbergasted dean. Not a curly hair is out of her place on her head, with each chocolate strand pinned neatly back with a stylish bow. Quickly, she gives a small pat to her immaculate bumper bang like she’s brushing away some invisible dust that could possibly disrupt her picture-perfect image. 

She’s a doll with smooth caramel skin and large hazel eyes. 

She’s adorable with pearly white teeth and freckles dotted across her cheeks. 

She’s precious with her long, poofy skirt and long, poofy hair.

She’s perfect.

Except, her mother knows better. Oh, does she ever know better. 

“Sweet Christ,” Nel sighs with something that isn’t quite disappointment, but certainly isn’t glee. Nobody has breathed a word of what events called her down to the private school, again, but she’s certain that her spawn is somehow responsible because she is always responsible when chaos occurs. “Evie. What in the hell is going on here?”

“Momma, there you are!” Bouncing out of her seat, Evie skips over to her mother without a care in the world. She doesn’t bat an eye at her classmate glaring daggers at her or the dean blinking in exasperation since she’s too busy sidling up to her revered birth-giver. “Listen, this is all a big, silly mix-up. I’m completely innocent-”

“Lies-!”

“It was Roxxy who dumped the paint on her own bag to frame me-”

“NO, I DID NOT-!”

“Because why would I ever do such a terrible thing?” Looking for backup, she moves her gaze to the dean, who simply nods his head in slight agreement. “I would never jeopardize my perfect record with the threat of a conduct mark, and for what? To upset my good friend Roxxane with a ridiculous prank?”

“We are not friends!” the other teen growls, her skin turning an intense shade of crimson from the wrath boiling in her bones.

“You’re right, we’re best friends! Thank you for reminding me,” Evie chirps, her toothy smile growing wider.

Nel swats away unfortunate flashbacks that threaten to overtake the moment. 

“Okay, kid, put a pin in it. Just, God, come on, we’re leaving, now. Go.” Once her daughter departs from the room with a final wave to her so-called friend, Nel stares at the dean. “Stop calling me for this bullshit. I pay this school too goddamn much money to run up here each time there’s an issue with these two- next time, deal with it.”

The door slams shut behind her, and she marches on. 

Leather pumps and leather oxfords click together in time down the hallway. 

“What on God’s green earth possessed you to do that?” Nel scoffs, not pausing her march to freedom for a moment. It hardly matters since her kid already has at least an inch on her, because of course she does, her legs are more than long enough to keep up with the redhead’s shorter stomps. “Dumping paint on someone’s bag? Shit, did you just forget any home training I gave you?”

“Momma!” Evie gasps in offense, her round eyes going wide. “You don’t believe in my innocence?”

“No.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Just like that, the act drops and she shrugs, clicking her shiny saddle shoes on the floor. “But I didn’t do it for fun. Well, maybe I did, but she also deserved it.”

“You cannot continue to terrorize that girl. This is the third time that there’s been an incident in the past five weeks. Every time you get yourself into a mess, I gotta hightail it up here to drag you home, and that’s time I lose with my clients, and that’s money I lose to spend on you. You think it reflects positively on me when I’m unable to run my firm because I’m wrangling my daughter?”

“I know, but-“

“Genevieve Marie Sheridan-“

“You don’t understand!”

“Then enlighten me.” 

“She’s terrible!” Uncharacteristic irritation crosses over Evie’s sharp facial features, contorting them into a disgruntled expression eerily similar to the one worn by the ginger walking next to her. “I’m telling you, I have never met someone so absolutely dull and unpleasant in all my life! Sure, I’ve only been alive for fourteen years, but I’ve had a worldly fourteen years!”

“Oh, really now?”

“Momma, forget the details! What I’m trying to explain to you is that she is awful, so I’m attempting to help her become less awful with some harmless fun.”

A familiar feeling creeps along Nel’s skin. It’s a distant feeling, one she hasn’t felt in nearly fifteen years, but it’s one she can never forget, not ever. It’ll haunt her til the day she dies, and long after that too. 

Cold realization begins to dawn on her.

“...What makes this girl so bad?”

“What doesn’t?” the teen snips, rolling her eyes. “She always has to argue with me or oppose me, she can never just listen to anything I say! I don’t understand. Everyone else loves me- as they should, I’m amazing.”

“Mhm.”

“But not her! Never her. She’s been against me since we moved here, what, seven years ago? All because everyone adores me due to my benevolent nature and because she’s an envious ball of rage with no friends.”

“Mhm.”

“And I always think of how repulsive she is, especially at the worst times! Did you know that I dreamed of her nasty little face the other night? She’s a true nightmare at this point. I can’t escape her even in my sleep.”

“I bet.”

“So, in conclusion, she is my number one enemy, and I will destroy her.” Evie raises her upturned nose into the air with a slight huff. “In completely legal ways, of course. Such as kindness. And a few ink bombs too.”

There it is. 

Pausing at the front of the school, Nel faces the little turd fully, her initial anger fading. Hell, she can never stay mad at the kid for long; that’s her baby, no matter how tall she grows or how ruthless she becomes. 

When Evie returns her mother’s softening gaze with a kind one of her own, Nel swallows down an old sadness that’s taken root inside of her. It’s been there for years, always hovering like a ghost in the background, always lingering no matter how long she ignores it. But, its presence isn’t so heavy with her kid here, even if she wears a dead man’s face and speaks in his same chipper tone. 

It would be just like Alastor to have a child so eerily like himself. He could never quit the game; he’d always leave some version of himself behind to plague Nel. 

Fitting. He always had to have the last laugh.

“You know, I know a thing or two about having an enemy.”

“Oh, like the DA?”

“No, not that son of a bitch, though he’s worthless,” she grumbles. “No, I had someone else I swore to destroy a long time ago.”

“Well, did you?” she asks, and Nel gives her a strained, tired smile. 

“Yes and no. That’s a story for another day. For now, all I’ll tell you is that you need to be careful, and that maybe you should spend some time using that big brain to decide what you really think of this nemesis of yours.”

“Well, I hate her. I don't need to think about that.”

Nel rolls her eyes. “No doubt, but hate can sometimes…ah, fuck it, I’ll save it.” With a shake of her head, she waves away her words. “You’ll figure it out, baby. Now come on, we’re getting the hell out of here. Goddamn ridiculous school.”

“Yes ma’am!” Evie skips along happily next to Nel, contagious cheer radiating off of her. “We need to go anyway. I’d like to be at least down the block before the dye bomb I placed in Roxxy’s locker detonates.”

“...The what?”

There’s a distant pop, and then a muffled scream from deep inside of the school building.

Evie blinks innocently, and then Nel sighs. 

History always repeats itself. 

[lolottes]

The worst? It happens during the holidays… There are no missing children notices for them. They have been gone for more than 3 days and their parents have not yet reported their absence…

In order to get the funding they need for their Ghost stuff, Jack and Maddie Fenton had to do some... rather illegal things when they left college.

One of them was testing alien DNA and seeing if it was compatible with human DNA.

However getting their hands on Superman's DNA or any of the main Leaguers would be far to hard for two up coming scientists and would run the risk of them being caught. Instead they set their sights on some of the younger aliens.

Such as Starfire, or rather Koriand'r.

They manage to get their hands on her DNA, and also her boyfriend (Nightwing) at the time and began to test it. They felt unsure with what they're doing but they needed the funding and in order to make themself feel better with what they're doing they decided if they were test her DNA with someone she was seeing it would be... better for their own conscience (it doesn't make what they're doing okay but they think so)

Eventually they succeeded in the testing! A baby can be made between a human and a alien.

HOWEVER because we know how the Fenton's get, they kind of go ahead of what they were only meant to do, which was just to TEST the compatibility of the DNA. Basically the paper's before the test phase.

With them getting tunnel vision on this project... They create said baby.

Then before they could show off that creating a new baby via test tubes actually works, they were told that the paperwork they were working on were going to be given to a new team, thank you for your work, here is the money for your ghost stuff, and have a good day.

The people who hired them then just leave.... Without knowing about the newly made baby.

Jack and Maddie name the baby Jasmine.

A few years later when little Jazz asks for a sibling... Well they bring out the old test tubes and papers.

And even though Starfire is no longer dating Nightwing, her new partner Red Hood would make a wonderful male donor for their future kid.

[immortalmuses]

I don't care what this panel implies, James is canonically taller than John, that's fact!

[lemon-russ]

good news my fever broke and my regular illness of putting Cato in situations returned

this upcoming arc has been haunting my brain since someone?? prob moodymisty?? posted a list of trope-y things Cato would be forced to endure as a body guard, specifically diplomat going to a warm planet with balls and wearing revealing dresses and making him p a n i k. anyone knows the post lemme know it's haunted me forever.

Part 8/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(both POVs today)

CW: Vague alluding to sex, Cato back to being mean

Summary: Ambassador heads off on vacation with Titus, Cato takes it SUPER well and is very normal

word count: 1,720

You try not to pout as you sit on the ship heading out to the planet you were being forced to take a vacation to.

Commander Titus and a couple of lower rank ultramarine's sit across from you, talking politely among themselves. Guilliman has forced you to rest after the scare you gave him on that planet that rebelled.

You sigh a bit. You heard Cato swept through the place in a day with the second company. Titus said he was on a warpath- he always delighted in battle, but this one was a personal vengeance against the people that put them through all the trouble of having to rescue the both of you.

Now you're off to a particularly pleasant agri-world, renown for their fruits and home to hot spring baths and nightly dances. The marines with you weren't thrilled about standing around while you relaxed on warm beaches, but unlike Cato, they would never dare voice it. You were a high ranking diplomat, personal ambassador to Guilliman. Most marines show you a modicum of general respect. Then again most ultramarines were very professional all around. Cato is an outlier in his attitude and disrespect.

Which is nice. It's nice to not be bullied and teased. Nice to not have a whining huffing rain cloud following you. Nice… and a little boring. The two lower rank marines don't talk much, and when they do it’s polite “yes, Ma'am.” And “of course, Lady Ambassador.” Titus was a little better, still reserved, but seemed to at least understand you were looking for conversation, so tried his best.

You smiled at him a bit. “Will you be taking part in any of the activities, Commander?” You ask, desperate for conversation. He smiles politely. “Ah, no, Lady Ambassador. That would mean I'd not be properly guarding you, and, I am here to guard you.” He said apologetically. You sigh. “You mean here to babysit me…” you mumble, putting your head on your hand and looking out the window. Babysit was the word Guilliman used for it, specifically. Calling you a disobedient child when he'd found you sneaking paperwork.

Titus let out a soft chuckle. “I'd never want to imply you were childish, my lady.” He said with a small smile. “I am merely here to ensure a less dramatic trip for you than last time.” you sigh. You were disappointed when Guilliman told you he was removing Cato from your guard. You don't know why you were. He was a huge pain in the ass, a bully, and caused most of the issues. But your mind flashed to him pinning you to that cave wall and you flushed a little. Damn it, Cato. You couldn't get that day out of your head.

He would have just cause you issues here, too. But you had secretly hoped a bit that you'd get to convince him to join you in a hot spring- no, no stop that. Its bad enough you kissed him for some reason. Everything is so complicated with him now. You hate him a little, but you also kinda really like him, and you definitely are attracted to him… and you can't get all these images and memories of him out of your head. He's haunting you and it's making you angry at him by proxy. Stupid Cato.

Titus glances at you a bit while you think. “Lady Ambassador? You look upset, is all well…?” He asks with a small frown. You blush a little, sitting up properly. “Ah, sorry. Just have things on my mind. No need to worry, Commander.” You say, composing yourself. He looks unconvinced. “Ah, I wont pry then, my lady.” He said politely.

Cato would pry, you think. No, that is unfair to Titus. He is very kind, more personable than most other ultramarines too. But he's so… professional. And polite. He sometimes will respond with a light joke if you do so first, or laugh at something. But mostly he just smiles and nods and stands an appropriate distance away. As he should, that's how a bodyguard should act. But you'd gotten used to Cato cracking jokes at your expense, and insulting random passing nobles, and walking right next to you to force you to walk into walls and things. Which is annoying. But at least it was something.

The thunderhawk jolted a little as it began to land, and for a split second your heart skipped a beat and your hand jumped to your harness. You'd been a bit jumpy about flying in small craft since the thunderhawk crash. And much more on top of keeping buckled in.

Commander Titus frowns as you flinch and grab the belt, lifting a hand a little towards you, “Ah- my lady? Are you alright?” He asked politely, confused about what happened. You frown a bit, “oh, yes, sorry. Just, a little spooked by the landing…” you play it off a bit, giving a tight smile. He raises his brow but nods and sits back as the thunderhawk finishes its landing sequence.

The marines help you unload your things and you get off the ship and look at the pretty planet you’ve landed on. Lush tropic greenery, warm breezes, greco-romann looking buildings with lots of open to the air arches. there’s a beach and gentle waves nearby, and you think you hear a waterfall. You try and force yourself to stop thinking about how much work you’ll have back home, but what if Guilliman didn’t understand your file system? did he get those things filed in time- No, stop it, relax.

You sigh, pursing your lips. you take all your unwanted thoughts, worries about work, worries about deadlines, and the stupid thoughts of Cato Sicarius saving you from burning shipwrecks and pinning you to walls- and you file them all away in your mind in your mental LATER pile. You sigh, and try and soak in the warm air. You’ll get to it, in a few days. You were ordered to relax, and you hate not following orders.

___________________________________________________________

Cato paced the training fields, watching some of the newer aspirants to the Ultramarines do drills. They’d all passed trials, and it was one of his responsibilities to keep up on new recruits to the company. He didn’t normally take fresh marines, but he liked to keep an eye out for talented new Astartes. He needed the distraction anyways.

That world had been far to easy to run through, barley taking a day to fall to the impirium. It was meant to calm him, leading the charge, but it was only more infuriating how he had been cornered by people so weak and low tech. He growled to himself, and pulled his un-powered power sword out, practicing his regular drills on the combat dummy. Stupid primitive world. Stupid Titus, gallivanting on that stupid romance planet with the Ambassador- he chopped a chunk of the dummy off- Stupid Ambassador, kissing him randomly and then barely talking to him for two days- another chunk flew off- Stupid, warp-damned woman keeping him up all night, haunting his mind- The dummy shattered into a splintered mess with a hard swing. He growled, then stomped it a few times. Stupid combat dummy that can’t even take him going light on it.

He lets out a frustrated snarl and throws his sword to the ground, running his hands through his hair. What were they doing right now, his throne damned commander and the ambassador? Nothing good could come from them locked away together for days on a planet Guilliman described as “one of the few places left a noble could take a honeymoon.” He bets Titus is being unprofessional- he never knew how to stick to the rules. He bets he's taking her dancing- he's probably stealing a dance with her right now. She always dresses so impractically, and it's warm there, is she wearing something even more revealing? Is Titus eyeing her the way he did?

He heel stomps the dummy once more for good measure, picks up his blade, and storms off toward the Hangar. He has to go fight something, anything. He'll ask around for leads on something to kill and go focus on things that actually matter, like defending the Imperium. And not stupid, vapid women who probably are taking the first chance alone with Titus to give him secret kisses and hide away in corners with, doing emperor knows what in hot spring pools. He's fooling himself thinking he'd be an exception anyways, the way she smiles at everyone who looks at her, she's probably in everyone's beds. Everyone's but his.

He slams his fist on the button to open the hangar doors. One of his men looks up at him and grimaces. “Are we going out again today, sir…?” He asks, and Cato just nods and scowls. “Get everyone together, we're going… going… somewhere- it doesn't matter, just get the men in here!” He snaps. The marine frowns but nods, scrambling up to follow his orders.

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh, gripping his hair a bit as he runs his fingers back through it. If Titus lays a finger on her, he's going to kill him. He doesn't care if that's the worst thing a marine can do, betray a battle brother. Titus would be betraying him first, touching his woman- he stops dead in his tracks.

When did he start thinking of her as his?

Holy golden throne, she's driving him mad and she's not even here. She's broken his mind, flipped some switch he can't find to turn off again. He hates this, he hates her- but by the emperor, he hates the thought of her and Titus doing what he and she had done most. He grits his teeth and smashes his helmet on, stomping onto a thunderhawk. If his men weren't here in 30 seconds he was going without them. He white knuckled the hilt of his power sword.

In his mind he was desperately trying to shove all these feelings and thoughts into the overflowing WEAKNESS box, but there was just nothing rational left to think about. He's hanging on by a thread, and his men now have 20 seconds to be on this ship before he went and tore through some Orks alone.

[space-invading-pigeon]

It had been almost a year since Steve had disappeared. The Party had not taken it well.

Dustin and Robin were the most affected, obviously: Dustin lost his older brother, the first person aside from his mother that had ever loved him unconditionally, his confidant. Robin lost the other half of her very soul; she feels like a shell of herself, a hollow corpse drifting through space.

Eddie threw himself into the search with Eleven: they barely stopped for basic needs like rest or food, too busy chasing every lead (El's connection to the Upside Down seemed unable to locate Steve, but Eddie swore that he could feel his "warmth"). Max, through her recovery, writes down every achievement, every setback, because she wants to share them with Steve. Lucas quits basketball; being on the court sends him back to every evening practice with Steve, and the loss makes him so sick that he genuinely cannot play. Will draws scene after scene of the party rescuing Steve, although each picture grows more ethereal- Steve's image starts to change, his features lost to a golden shine, his clothes shifting from his cozy sweaters and jeans to shining armor and a white cloak. His eyes, though, maintain that same warmth, the same kindness, obvious even in a painting. Nancy pretends to be fine, but she's always felt responsible for Steve: it's her fault he was ever involved, and she'd been so cruel to his in '84. It's her fault he's missing. Jonathan is distraught: he and Steve were on great terms before California, but there's always the guilt carried from giving Steve his first concussion. Argyle doesn't know who Steve is, but if everyone is this upset, he's down for getting the dude back.

Hop is on the warpath.

****

Pelor fights with Vecna proudly for the cause. The vile creatures destroying their homeland are insatiable, and it is through Vecna's grace that Pelor was saved.

But things are starting to make no sense. It has been a year since Pelor was saved, but Vecna's story is starting to make no sense. These enemies, as he watches, and barely more than children. Watching them for too long makes Pelor's head hurt, especially when the curly-headed one sings that soul-searing song in the middle of the night.

"Don't be fooled by them, lord," Vecna advises. Pelor hums.

*****

Fighting the child soldiers feels.... wrong. They're crafty and innovative, making weapons and clever plans, but at the end they're just children. The redheaded one is easily incapacitated, for example, her body already weak from battle. Pelor can't bring himself to truly harm them, though.

And then the curly one starts to scream. "Steve! Holy shit, you're alive!" He cries, running at St- Pelor. His cries make the others freeze.

"That's not Steve," the small, angry woman snarls.

"Dust, get away from him!" The ugly one shrieks. Pelor steps away, glancing from each child warrior and trying to stave off the splitting headache.

"Eddie!" The curly one cries. "Eddie, sing his song! The song!"

The pretty one, who was near the back of the squadron, scrambled forward like a newborn foal. "You can sing it too, Henderson!" The man wails. The curly one and the pretty one bicker for a few minutes, before they both decide to start singing (only after the dark one and the red one start screaming that stupid fucking song that Dustin wouldn't stop complaining about-). The song splits Pelor's head in two.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

@amoris-no-smut-allowed imagine if you will, Eddie = Kas the Bloodyhanded and Steve = Pelor, god of the sun, summer, and agriculture

Pt. 2

[anxiousnerdwritings]

def not an request but i wnt ur thoughts on this. you answered an ask once about the batboys + bruce lovin bruce's adopted sibling bcuz of how affectionate they are. and while I have alot of thoughts, my main one is just wonderin how they'd react if they died.

it could be from the rogue of the week, them dying bcuz they were held ransom and one kidnapper was trigger happy, a hitman for some reason. point is they died but i know for a FACT that jason and damian wouldnt think twice about using the pits to bring them back. they wldnt even think,, theyd just share a glance and nod.

like can you imagine bruce spiraling (they all are tbh) cuz his sibling died. alfred is trying to console him while comforting dick as dick is sobbing buckets. tim is trying to fight tears as he scours for any images of his aunt/uncle's killer and jason's in the back like "damian get the shovel" and a shovel spawns in damian's hands magically

sorry for this being long btw i waa excited

Everyone would be completely distraught at the loss of the only thing they felt kept them grounded. Their only sense of outward love, affection, and warmth being ripped away from them like that would be detrimental to everyone of them. Especially if the Reader has been killed so senselessly, like their killer didn’t even know who they were or their ties to Batman and the Batfamily or to Bruce Wayne in general. They could all blame themselves for being the reason a rogue got to them but just some random mugger having been the one to take away their beloved sibling/aunt or uncle would tear at them even more. Especially for Bruce, having the Reader taken away from him like his parents had been would mess him up all over again.

Honestly, there’s no doubt that Bruce, Tim, and Dick would heavily contemplate using the Lazarus pit to bring the Reader back. But it’s definitely Jason and Damian who don’t think twice about it and go through with bringing their precious aunt/uncle back. I feel like Alfed would be the only one to not consider it, whether he just can’t bring himself to do so or he’s come to accept the loss of the Reader.

The only reason I could see him being accepting/tolerating of the idea of the Reader being brought back by means of the Lazarus pit would mainly be for the sake of Bruce and the boys. Of course he’s affected by their death and not being able to be in their company again or to have them fret over him like they did, but it’s how hard Bruce and the boys take it that really has him willing to turn a blind eye while Jason and Damian go through with their plan. Alfred would also low key give his reassurance and acceptance to Bruce for him to go through with his own thoughts of bringing the Reader back to life. It may even be Alfred who plants the seed of using the Lazarus pit to begin with, in his own desperate way to get the family back to the way it was.

Also, in the case of a rogue having taken the Reader and was using them to get to Batman and the boys, I could totally see one of the villains’ lackeys being the one who deals out the Reader’s demise. Whether they went too far with trying to get information from them/roughing them up to add to the vigilantes rush to meet with the respective rogues demands or they just really wanted to take it into their own hands to get back at the Dark Knight/prove their worth to their boss. Either way, I could see their boss even being like “👀 You done fucked up and now we’re all going to die😬”. Trust me, Jason and Damian would go on a bloody warpath killing and maiming everyone involved in the death of the Reader or even just for being there, and I don’t even think Bruce would be in the mindset to stop them. Or maybe he doesn’t want to stop them.

In the case that the Reader was pointlessly killed by a mugger or low grade criminal for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Bruce and the boys would work tirelessly to find the person who did it. It would especially be infuriating and defeating if the Reader’s killer was just gone in the wind. No trace of the assailant, no leads off what evidence they did have, nothing. If they aren’t able to hunt the Reader’s killer down before they bring the Reader back to life then they would all be extremely paranoid about something similar happening to the Reader again, whether it’s the same assailant or someone else. Not getting that closure of permanently getting rid of the person who tore away their darling from them would weigh and all of them. They’d become even more overprotective of the Reader once they have them back and wouldn’t allow them to leave the manor for anything out of fear of losing them all over again.

Similar to Alfred, Dick would be the one consoling and trying to keep everyone together knowing that the Reader wouldn’t want them to tear apart like they already are. He pushes down his own heartache and hurt over the loss of the Reader to try and be there for Bruce and the boys, especially Damian. Alfred knows exactly what Dick’s doing, focusing on the others so he doesn’t have to deal with his own trauma regarding the ordeal. But Alfred doesn’t let that fly and he confronts Dick about it only for Dick to breakdown and unleash everything he’s been keeping under wraps.

The death of the Reader would really affect Bruce and the boys severely, they all shut down in their own ways. Sick is the only one who still comes off as his normal self but behind closed doors in another thing. Jason becomes even more aggressive and rough when dealing with any criminals, no matter how high or low on the food chain they are. Whatever sleep and healthy habits the Reader had gotten Tim to do to take care of himself went away the day they died. If anything he’s only gotten so much worse, a husk of what he used to be running solely off of caffeine and the need to find the Reader’s killer. Damian shuts himself off completely from everyone, not even Alfred or Dick can get to him. He won’t let them. All the wonderful progress he made with the Reader regarding letting others in and being able to let go of being the child of an assassin and vigilante and just allowing himself to be a kid is destroyed. He doesn’t want anything to do with anyone unless it’s his beloved aunt/uncle.

Bruce is a mess, both physically and emotionally. He’s taken a backseat from things, mainly pertaining to the Justice League and Wayne Enterprises. He stops by every so often and does want he needs to but he isn’t involved unless he really, really needs to be. Even though he has Alfred, Damian, Dick, Jason, and Tim, Bruce can’t help but feel cold and alone after losing the Reader. He feels the exact same way he did when he first lost his parents, before he adopted the Reader and brought them home to be his family. He knows he’s not truly alone, at least not physically but there’s a hole in his chest and he finds himself completely lost. He know he needs to be there for the boys, that the Reader would scold him for not being there for them when they need him most but he just can’t. He tries but he can’t do it, he can’t give them what they desperately need, not like how the Reader could. And that makes him feel even worse.

Bruce would be overcome with the feeling of being useless and vulnerable and he hates it. It would especially be hard for him if Dick and Jason were moved out of the manor leaving the family to be apart in such a trying time. Although, having Jason and Bruce in the same place together might not be good given that that may cause strife between the two. Especially if Jason blamed Bruce for the Reader’s death, or at least used Bruce as a way to let out his own grievances about not being able to save the Reader himself and projecting his own guilt and self blame about the whole ordeal.

This would only push each of them further towards bringing the Reader back by any means necessary. And they don’t care what anyone else has to say about it, they need their darling back otherwise their family isn’t going to last much longer without them.

Also, the overwhelming guilt and self hatred of Bruce or any of the boys if they had inadvertently been the cause of the Reader’s death. Like, while trying to get to the Reader maybe a stray bullet or knife/batarang/wing-ding hit the Reader and led to the their demise.

[broodwolf221]

I love your writing and meta so much and have burned through most of your fic already, so I trust your judgment! Do you have fic recs I should check out? Thanks in advance!

oh no i cry 😭 pls this is so sweet.....

gotta start with the recent gift i got from arlathan exchange bc it is soooo good! sweater has a gorgeous, vivid writing style that i really enjoy. this one is spicy! 🔥but seriously her writing is just So Good? i love the way they set scene and tone

hunger by @fadedsweater / sweaterghost on ao3

In the moonlit dark of Mythal's palace there is a hunger that rumbles beneath the sprawling marble floors and shakes the foundation of each gilded pillar. It is a hunger that spreads like smoke and burns like fire. Solas has known this hunger for a long, long time. Solas visits Mythal’s court, intent to sway her from her current warpath. Meanwhile, Mythal can't help but notice that he has gone far too long without feeding. Ancient Arlathan, but with vampires.

my friend jazz has been getting into da and they've written so much lovely stuff for it, always with really excellent characterization and fascinating premises. one of my personal favs from their writing is this exploration of cole and vivienne's relationship

wellspring by @jazzmckay / desiredemon on ao3

Long ago, Cole promised, "I can protect you. If templars come for you, I will kill them." Vivienne never expected such a thing to ever take place.

i still need to finish this one and this is a nice reminder to get on that, but this writer has an extraordinary style and their handling of solas is so good?? i'm in awe tbh. seriously beautiful writing.

though my language is dead (still the shapes fill my head) by @darethshirl / mafalda_157 on ao3

She gazed up at him, silent and calm, green eyes unblinking. Outwardly she was the very image of tranquility, her expression as unmoving as the surface of a vast clear lake. If any thoughts or emotions lurked somewhere in those depths there was no way to tell. - This veiled world will always feel muted. Still, Solas tries his best to communicate.

another spicy one, but playwithdinos has suchhhh a vivid style and there's just something so lovely and profound about it. my first introduction to her writing is this one, and her depiction of solas is fascinating i love it.

the switch by @playwithdinos / @dinoswrites / playswithdinos on ao3

Lavellan usually lets Solas take charge when they're alone, but she's back from slaying the Fereldan Frostback and she's not in the mood to bow to anyone. Fill for this kink meme prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13696.html?thread=53207680

anddd another spicy one (anyone else sensing a theme here?), this writer is... wow. wish i knew their tumblr if they have one so they can know i'm gushing about them beyond my comment. this is a delightfully messy and complex examination of how solas/andruil/ghilan'nain might happen, and i'm absolutely enthralled by the characterization of andruil and ghilan'nain here - and solas as well!

Power, Intrigue, Danger and Sex by Hezjena on ao3

When Solas later recalled the evening, he liked to imagine it was the result of careful manipulation, a triumph of his skilled diplomacy and a delicious trickery where he allowed himself to be underestimated… rather than the result of too much ice wine and morbid curiosity. *** That time Solas accidentally-on-purpose has a threesome with Andruil and Ghilan’nain in Ancient Elvhenan.

okay, rosie's writing is So Good? i'm always super impressed by how she describes scenes and also just... the layers. seriously. the foreshadowing is always amazing. her handling of solas is sooo good and also? an extraordinary artist? too powerful tbh <3

In the Blue Morning by @rosieofcorona / rosieofcorona on ao3

He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream. But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. And this will cost them, in the end.

i could so easily keep going tbh but this is already getting long and i might've passed the @'ing limit already lmao

[allwormdiet]

Hive 5.1

I just read this entire arc in like an hour, let's fucking go

Wildbow really fucking knows how to set up a location. I know the exact kind of bar this is, I've experienced enough of them in my life at this point, I can fucking smell the spilled beer smell that never leaves

I'm going to take this as my cue to start calling Taylor Skitter when appropriate, now that she's heard the name herself

Also maybe it's just me but I almost feel like Alec and Rachel meeting Danny would at least make things work faster, if not necessarily better

Fucking Nazis. Go back to whatever bunker you crawled out of (and then we can get some Soviets in to do what they do to Nazi bunkers)

Not sure how I feel about the fucking Nazis having the biggest cape game in town, if they're hiring on people from out of town and even out of state it makes some degree of sense, but also just, y'know. Rotten fucking vibes.

Fucking Coil. I know enough of your deal to know I want you the fuck outta here. Scrawny bastard.

Faultline's crew seems cool. Interesting that she's got two people with visible mutations and matching tattoos. Pretty sure I know what's going on there but I'll wait to find out the whole of it.

Aww, Tattletale has a rival, good for her

Also lmao Alec

I looked back through my notes and Squealer was the only one who's come up before, but Skidmark is the one who's taking point as leader it seems like. These are the Merchants? Did they form up during the events of the past week, or did they somehow operate under the Empire's radar for however long? This feels off.

...Also what kind of gang leader gets high on their own supply? Isn't that like crime management number one, don't get yourself hooked on the product bc you need to be sober while making decisions? What the hell

Skipping the argument between Skidmark and Kaiser bc there's no joy to be found there

Fucking random, but okay, sure, definitely no ulterior motives going on here right

So here we have the "unwritten rules" on display, of course. The ABB are on the warpath, and even if they burn out they're gonna make things a nightmare for everyone in the meantime, and nobody wants that so everybody's willing to grit their teeth and deal with the ones who aren't playing the game anymore.

More pageantry, more emphasis on the role of image in this subculture

And, of course, almost everybody's pageantry is just there to hide the ulterior motives at play. The game isn't nearly as honor-bound as people think it is, it's just a matter of being subtle or getting caught.

Current Thoughts

I hate like almost half of the people in this building lmao, fucking Nazis and Coil's bony ass as a "bonus"

Still bugged by whatever the hell is going on with the Merchants, I feel like they sprang out of the streets of Brockton fully formed and here to provide unfortunate stereotypes about drug users. I can't imagine this was just to pad out the roster, the Travelers seemed to do well enough for that, but hell if I can figure out what else is going on there.