#you can just shoot a wraith

[sga-owns-my-soul]

teyla and ronon have one(1) capitalist experience and are like "i'd rather deal with the wraith actually take me home"

john and rodney can't help but agree

[swan2swan]

It's late at night and I just feel like saying it...

Voldemort was an underwhelming villain

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 10 Wheee this one is slightly over 2k words. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also I'm still shit at spelling, you're welcome to point out mistakes to me. We've come to the day of the concert. Also! When Simon thinks of you as "little" it is a reference to your height compared to him, your weight does not matter. If he's taller than you, then you're little to him. I don't make the rules. Warnings: Simon on a motorcycle, yearning, you two need a warning in general Part 9 | COD Masterlist | (Part 11)

The next time Simon is graced with your company outside of the shop is the day of the concert.

He already told you that he’d come and get you on his bike and your eyes had sparkled with excitement. It was rather surprising, that little shy you would be so excited at the prospect of riding on his bike with him but he’d rather take that than you being unhappy with it.

He arrives at your place and before he can get in his head over how he should greet you he takes off his helmet and gloves, shooting you a quick text that he’s there (heck yeah, he secured your number, doesn’t matter that it was for the sake of organizing going to the concert).

The entrance door to your home opens and Simon catches a glimpse of you. Clearly you’re explaining to Wraith that he’ll have to stay at home and he can’t help but grin triumphantly. You trust him enough to go somewhere without your mutt. He’ll be your guard dog instead (if only you’d put a collar with your name on him).

Finally you turn to him and close the door behind yourself. You brush invisible dust off your clothes, the gesture awkward and self-conscious. He prays you don’t feel how heavy his gaze is when he lets it drag across your figure. Goddamn he’d never have expected you to dress up like that. But man, is he glad he gets to witness it.

You’re so precious and pretty, no matter what you wear but he finds a part of him hoping you didn’t just dress up for the concert but maybe a little bit for him too (please). You’re so beautiful you outshine the goddamn sun. No, wait, that phrase doesn’t suit you.

You’re no sun, no bright blinding light and he doubts you’d want to be that.

You’re a moon, he decides. His own personal moon. Silently reflecting the light of day at him, comforting him in the darkness.  Inoffensive and distant (he’ll find a way to get closer). He doesn’t need to shield his eyes from your brightness for you are not blinding. You are awe inspiring. Someone that silently waits to be admired and doesn’t demand attention (though he suspects you’re no fan of attention either way).

Sometimes you’re fully yourself, sometimes hiding behind clouds and sometimes invisible altogether. Simon will always find you though. Even on a new moons night. Even when you don’t want to be found. Now that he’s caught sight of the full moon he won’t live with only seeing it once a month (or rather only seeing you twice a week for a few minutes in his shop).

When he takes in your appearance again a soft smile settles on his face and he finds himself thankful for his mask for hiding the stupid lovesick expression he’s wearing.

You stop before him and tilt your head up at him. God he really could just snatch your small form up and keep you with him forever. The way you’re clutching your phone in your hands abruptly catches his attention. He wonders what that is about.

“Hi, sweetheart.”, he murmurs and you nod, still clenching your hands around your phone. Suddenly concern overcomes him. Did you change your mind? Did something happen?

“Talk to me, sweets…”, he implores gently, nodding in the direction of your phone, thankful that no one can hear how soft his voice is. Only for you.

You look up at him, your eyes flickering with something he can’t exactly pinpoint. “I want…”, you begin and your voice fails you. It reminds Simon of the first times you interacted and suddenly he’s very aware of what a difference your dog makes.

With Wraith by your side you barely hesitated to speak your mind, but now that you’re alone with Simon it feels like all the progress you two made has gone down the drain. One day, he’ll travel to the dark side of the moon and uncover its secrets but until then he’ll merely try to help you not to wane.

“What do you want?”, he encourages and gathers his own courage to put his index finger under your chin when you look down again. The way he lifts your chin is tender, as if he’s afraid of breaking you if he handles you too roughly (he is, something has broken you before, he suspects, and he refuses to add to old wounds). “You can tell me.”

Your eyes meet his and you swallow and square your shoulders as if preparing for battle. “I would like to send my friend your phone number and a picture of you as well as where we’re going.”, you say slightly shaky.

Simon’s hand falls from your face and he grows still. Very still. Suddenly he feels cold. He can see you shuffling your feet in place.

“You… Want me to let you take a picture of my face?”, he asks slowly and you look down, your shoulders hunching slightly. If he wasn’t so stumped he’d try to comfort you but his own heart starts racing.

“I trust you…”, you begin. “I do. But we’ve only really met one time and I am about to climb onto your bike with you and it would make me feel a lot more comfortable if my friend had… something in case … in case…” You don’t finish the sentence.

The air grows tense around you two as Simon regards your hunched over form. Is this your deal breaker? Will you not come with him if he says no? Does he want to say no? What would happen if he let you take a picture of his face? The thought makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The way you’re withering under his gaze is more than enough proof of how uncomfortable you are too. And despite his own discomfort Simon doesn’t want you to feel like you have to hide from him.

“How about a deal, sweetheart?”, he asks slowly, trying to break through the tension.

Your eyes snap back up to his, wide in surprise at the fact that he doesn’t immediately dismiss you. You nod jerkily.

“No picture.”, he says and he swears you nearly flinch drawing even more into yourself. His hand finds your chin again, making you meet his eyes again. The touch comforting and warm, trying to convince you without words that he is not upset at your request.

 He needs you to see his eyes, he needs you to see that he means it when he continues. “You can send her my number and my address, hell, I’ll let you send her a picture of my ID.  Anything you need to be comfortable, sweetheart. Anything, just… no picture of my face.”

The way your eyes are searching his make him swallow and he wonders if this is where he loses the bit of trust you’ve started putting into him.

“Your license plate…”, you mumble. Cautiously your own hand comes up to cup his that ensures that you’re meeting his gaze.

“No picture of your face, Simon.” He can hear you take a deep breath. “I’ll send her your address and pictures of your bike’s plate.”

Something in his chest splinters at that, something rotten and ugly. Something he didn’t know was still there. It crumbles and suddenly he breathes easier. How come he wasn’t aware that he didn’t have to fight for his comfort? That the two of you would find a compromise this easily?

Just like that the tension is gone, something warm and soothing settling around Simon’s heart. Why does something so small make him so happy?

He studies your face, the way he can feel your skin against his fingers and suddenly without thinking his thumb raises to touch your lower lip.

Torturously slow the pad of his thumb glides over it. The gesture is subconscious, a thank you, a need to feel something more of you. His throat is awfully dry when he swallows, eyes fixed on your lips. “Yeah, sweetheart. Of course. Thank you.”

The expression in your eyes is unreadable and you seem just as caught in the moment as he is. You go to say something, your tongue darting out to wet your own lips, catching his thumb in the process.

He inhales sharply, freezing once again. His thumb remains on your lower lip, soft and inviting. It’s probably creepy, the way he stares at your mouth, but he can’t help it, not when every part of his body screams at him to touch you more to take you in his arms and lay some sort of claim on you. Kiss and bite and nip on your lips so everyone can see that you belong to someone. Belong to him (you don’t though, you don’t belong to him, yet).

Simon tries to be courteous and respectful so before he does anything stupid he closes his eyes tightly, praying that you don’t feel the subtle shudder that runs through him at the feel of your tongue on his skin.

It’s hard to imagine what you’re thinking when he’s like this, utterly frozen, eyes closed tightly, his eyebrows furrowed. The hand that’s holding his squeezes slightly.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice rings out and he slowly blinks his eyes open. Once again he finds himself breathless at the sight of you. He bites his tongue to hold onto the whimper that threatens to spill over his lips when you bring his hand to your cheek and tilt your head into it.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he swears he is a second from throwing all caution to the wind and kissing you. “Where did you go?”

His exhale is shuddering and he withdraws his hand abruptly. The small flicker of hurt across your face makes his heart ache but if he keeps touching you he will lose whatever is left of his mind.

“Just trying to be respectful, sweetheart. I.. you…”, he groans in frustration and decides that it’s wiser to not try to explain himself. He doesn’t miss the small amused smile that settles on your lips at his attempt at explaining himself.

“You can take a picture of the plate now.” Is what he settles for and you nod, having mercy on him and leaving it at that.  

As you take the picture something occurs to him. “I’ll send you a picture of the one of my truck… It wouldn’t make sense if your friend doesn’t have the plates of both.”

The surprise is palpable when you look at him but what he said makes a bright smile break out across your face and Simon suddenly wishes to take a picture of you instead. He wants to always have your smile with him.

Finally it’s time for you to climb onto his bike and he holds out the spare helmet he brought with him (he might have bought gear for you but you didn’t need to know that). Before he can explain anything you’ve already pulled it on and secured the band under your chin.

“Not your first ride?” Simon tugs his own helmet back over his head and meets your eyes.

“Nope.” You pop the p and giddily do a few hops where you’re standing. Even though most of your face is hidden by the helmet he can see the immediate embarrassment that follows the action and he tries to bite back his laugh at the adorableness of it all.

Still the thought of someone else having you on their bike behind them, your arms wrapped around them has an ugly green monster rear its head in his chest. Trying to ignore the feeling he holds out a protective jacket to you and you put it on without questioning where he got one in your size.

One piece after the other he has you put on the protective gear giving you a once over to make sure you’re properly zipped up.

You cock your head at him. “Should I be concerned that you’re so prepared with the gear? How … how well do you drive?”

There’s subtle nervousness again and he chuckles, stepping in front of you while he puts on his own gloves, his movements practiced and unhurried, trying to calm you. He inclines his head, so close his helmet almost touches yours and if he isn’t mistaken he watches you take a deep surprised breath.

“No need to be scared, sweetheart. Just making sure, you’re properly protected. I’m not gonna take any chances with your safety.”

Your head ducks down, breaking the eye contact and your eyes find his legs that are only clad in black jeans.

“What about your safety?”

His grin behind his mask is feral and he’s thankful you can’t see it because it might actually make you concerned for him.

“C’mon. Time to hop on.”, he says, ignoring your question completely.

He easily throws his leg over the bike, sitting down and then holds out a hand to you. Somehow he’s not sure you’ll actually take it. The fact that you didn’t object to riding with him is already surprising enough. You don’t seem like someone who’d be comfortable with this much physical contact.

Easily you slide your hand into his and let him steady you when you carefully climb onto the smaller seat behind him.

“Hold on, sweets.” His voice comes out quietly, intimately and he fights the urge to clear his throat.

He softly takes your wrists in his hands, trying to ignore how small and fragile they feel even with the jacket on, and draws them around his middle. He feels the exact moments you begin holding onto him and it makes him take a deep shaky breath. Thank god he decided to take the bike instead of the truck.

The motor rumbles to life and you tighten your arms around him. Time to show you how good of a guard dog he can be. He’ll make sure you feel safe enough to speak your mind without your other dog around.

[comicaurora]

what’s your opinion of the relatively rare trope/scene where the protagonist is ordered to be captured alive so they pull out a gun or a knife or something and hold themselves hostage?

also minor shout out to the otherwise terrible borderlands Telltale game that had a pretty funny bit where the protag does this and his two guards respond by also putting their guns to their *own* heads and instigating a tense reverse Mexican standoff where you have to intentionally fail a QTE in order to chicken out and let the guards just shoot themselves.

It's an interesting one! I think the reason it's so rare is it requires the protagonist to be the type of person who'd unhesitatingly threaten to do that (and be believed by the bad guys) AND wouldn't instead use that badassery to just fight their way out. A character with even slightly normal levels of self-preservation would probably rather take their chance to be able to escape later. It's a slightly delicate balance to strike, which means you either get it in stories that are a little bit internally wacky and can get away with the protagonist doing something deeply silly, like your borderlands example, or in cases that are played dead serious when the protagonist is a stone-cold badass AND the threat of capture is so uniquely horrible to them that they wouldn't hesitate, which is a rare character beat.

I've been recently rewatching Stargate Atlantis, and they actually did a minor variant on that trope in the episode "Sateda" - the protagonists had been captured by some vengeful bad guys who wanted to turn one of them over to the Wraith as punishment for him accidentally leading the Wraith to their settlement years before while they were hunting him, on the assumption that if they turn him over the Wraith will appreciate the gesture and spare them all, and he responds by immediately holding himself at knifepoint and demanding they let his friends go first. It's a notably more-unhinged-than-usual move for the character in question, and an indicator of how bad he thinks the situation is.

An easier-to-execute variant is probably the one where the protagonist's ally immediately takes them hostage when they hear they need to be captured alive, because that can run the spectrum anywhere from "this ally is morally dubious and may legitimately be ok with making good on that threat" to "the ally is the protagonist's best friend and they're just having a great time hamming it up together to scare off the bad guys"

[stinalotte]

Happy 19th Birthday, Stargate Atlantis!

On July 16th, 2004, the pilot aired. Here's a handy little primer for anyone who doesn't know what the heckity heck this show is about. Everything is totally accurate, 100% true and very, very serious.

So.

This is the lost city of the Ancients, Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy, about 3 million light years from Earth. (The Ancients can go fuck themselves. Long story.) Atlantis is a city/spaceship approximately the size of Manhattan. She's semi-sentient, but not really, except actually yes, maybe, sometimes, totally. The whole city can go underwater or into hyperspace. Loves her humans. Home. Declaration of independence imminent.

The Atlantis expedition consists of civilians and military from at least 34 countries (in later seasons, the original expedition was just over a dozen). In no particular order:

Dr. Elizabeth Weir. The first leader of the expedition. The only adult. Sometimes. Okay, not very often. Is not above a little war crime for the good of the galaxy—or at least, for the good of Atlantis. Left a boyfriend and a dog on Earth, but we all miss the dog more than the boyfriend. Eats UN representatives for breakfast. Is terribly awkward on dates and really good at solitaire. Loves her chaos children. Which are:

Lt. Colonel Suicide Mission John Sheppard. Walked through the Gate and Atlantis said, "dibs". Thinks people who don't want to fly are crazy. Not good with emotional stuff. (He's getting better.) Loves his found space family and would die for them, often literally. Stop that. Also loves Ferris wheels, things that go fast, and Rodney McKay. And no, we don't know how he gets his hair to go like that.

Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay. Four degrees, two of which are PhDs, none of which are in social skills. Smartest man in two galaxies. Used to be an asshole, but got himself some friends who loved him such a stupid amount that he had no choice but to change. Still a work in progress. We love to see it. Blew up three quarters five sixths of a solar system. (It was uninhabited.) (Mostly.) Deathly allergic to citrus. Loves fully charged ZPMs, arguing with Dr. Zelenka, MREs, and John Sheppard.

Lieutenant Aiden Ford. Went ass first through the Gate with a grin and a whoop on his very first trip. One of the youngest members of the expedition. Is not allowed to name anything, ever. Mild case of hero worship when it comes to his commanding officer, which is totally understandable. A cautionary tale of how addiction messes up not only you, but the people around you.

Ronon Dex. Used to be hunted by the Wraith, lost his people in a terrible war, and is now a member of Sheppard's team where he gets to shoot things and beat up bad guys. Doesn't talk much, but when he does, he has something to say. Good friend. Excellent hugs, but have Carson check you out for any cracked ribs after. Is one bottle of Athosian wine away from staging an intervention regarding the Sheppard/McKay situation.

Teyla Emmagan. In possession of the team's one brain cell. Leader of the Athosian people. Will rock a baby to sleep and then go outside where a Wraith is dangling from the highest tower of the city and stomp on his hands until he falls 800 feet. Can either beat you up in the gym or force you to meditate on your problem, your choice. Has the aforementioned bottle of wine ready and loaded.

Dr. Radek Zelenka. Keeps the science team sane because Rodney sure as hell doesn't. Loves pigeons, cursing in Czech, and overseeing the thriving black market underground economy that has developed in the city. (Thanks @shaddyr for that lovely headcanon). Zachránil všechny naše zadky víc než jednou.

Chuck the Technician. Aggressively Canadian. Doesn't have a last name, doesn't need one. Is ALWAYS in the control room, seriously man, when do you sleep? Reads trashy sci fi novels on night shifts and organized a betting pool in 5 different currencies when Ronon was fighting Teal'c. Needs to share his eyelash routine because we're jealous.

Dr. Carson Beckett. The most Scottish Scot to ever Scot. Brilliant medical doctor who is not above the occasional unethical unorthodox treatment method. Sweet cinnamon roll of a man. Beloved by all. Loves his mom and wee baby turtles. Someone should take him fishing soon. 🥹

Colonel Samantha Carter. Member of SG-1. Legend. Awesome. Boss. Absolute BAMF. Punched a Goa'uld system lord in the face once. We all have a crush on her.

Dr. Jennifer Keller. Is very doctor-y, for better and for worse. Was all of us when she freaked out being on an alien planet for the first time, like a normal person would. Should totally have gone on a date with Captain Vega in that one deleted scene. [WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAALL]

Jeannie Miller. Rodney's sister. Gave up a career in science to be a mom. Solved Rodney's math problem in her spare time, with finger paints. Loves her brother even when he's being an idiot. Fanfic canon says: her house is always open for him and certain Air Force Colonels to crash in. Don't you dare get a hotel room. Yes, the guest room has Only One Bed, Mer, what's your point?

Major Evan Lorne. If you are a moron and get yourself captured and imprisoned off world, he will swing by real quick with a couple Marines and bust you out. Co-parents Atlantis with Dr. Weir. Is actually a really talented painter. Needs a raise, a holiday, and a drink.

Colonel Steven Caldwell. Grumpy. Has to deal with Elizabeth's chaos children on a regular basis. Will make the enemy ship go away with a big boom and save your sorry ass in space. AGAIN.

Richard Woolsey. Used to be a New York City lawyer, one of the most ruthless creatures in the universe. His wife got the Yorkie in the divorce. Broke his heart. Is actually pretty cool if you let him do his thing (like get you out of an intergalactic war crimes trial by bribing the judges).

I know some characters and all the villains are missing, but this post is already longer than a trip on the Daedalus, so there you have it.

Stargate Atlantis. A show about wormholes, life-sucking aliens, ancient civilisations, space battles—and family, friendship, allowing yourself to love and be loved, and what it means to be home.

Happy birthday, fam.

[cowboythighs]

little alpha eddie finds lost omega steve in the woods while playing in the rain. his baby alpha instincts kick in and he decides he needs to protect this little lost sheep.

⬇️⬇️

little alpha eddie finds lost omega steve in the woods while playing in the rain. his baby alpha instincts kick in and he decides he needs to protect this little lost sheep.

little alpha!eddie loved playing in the woods behind the trailer park. he knew that technically wayne had said he wasn’t supposed to go into the woods. but wayne had made that rule when he was a baby, and he was eight now! he was totally old enough to go on adventures by himself now!

he put on his oldest, dirtiest pair of tennis shoes (knowing if they got dirtier it wouldn’t be noticeable) and his rain jacket pulling the hood over his head and donning the role of strider setting off on his quest to find lost hobbits!

eddie splashed his way through the woods, pulling out his imaginary bow to shoot orca from trees and pulling out his invisible sword to fight off the ring wraiths! he was in the midst of a particularly fierce battle when he heard sniffling nearby.

eddie paused, listening, and heard the sound again. it was harder to smell in the rain, but if he tried really hard it was there- the faint smell of distressed omega.

eddie followed the sounds and smell to a massive fallen tree and found a little pup curled up underneath its shelter, crying quietly.

“hey,” eddie called out, approaching slowly, nose scrunching up as the distressed scent got stronger. the pup looked up, startled.

“it’s okay,” eddie assured him, squatting down a few feet away so that he was eye level with the little omega. “you don’t need to be scared. i’m eddie.”

“i’m steve,” the omega replied with a particularly big sniff. eddie wished he had a tissue.

“what are you doing out here all by yourself?” eddie asked, looking around and confirming that there were no adults around. “babies aren’t supposed to be in the woods by themselves. my uncle wayne told me so.”

steve looked up with a scowl, tears momentarily forgotten.

“i’m not a baby. i’m almost seven. and you’re by yourself too!”

eddie hummed in the way adults always did when he could tell they wanted to correct him but couldn’t be bothered.

“yeah, but i’m eight,” eddie said as if that settled things.

steve’s reply was cut off by a particularly fierce bout of shivering.

“you don’t have a jacket,” eddie pointed out. “you should go home and get one.”

“i can’t,” steve wailed, scenting heavily of despair, “i’m lost! i don’t know where home is and now i’ll never be able to find my nest again!”

“hey, it’s okay,” eddie scooted closer to throw his arm around steve’s shoulders. “it’s not like we’re in mordor or anything. this is just the Old Forest, we’re still close to the Shire.”

“the shire?” steve asked, confused.

“yeah, that means we’re not far from home, so you don’t need to be scared. plus i already killed off all the bad guys so we’re safe.”

“you killed bad guys?” steve looked shocked.

“it’s okay,” eddie assured him. “it’s just pretend. you can come home with me though, i’ll keep you safe! and when my uncle wayne gets home from work he can find your home! he’s really good at finding things. he finds my toys and my socks for me all the time!”

“okay,” steve sniffled through the last of his tears and stood up, and took eddie’s outstretched hand, ready to follow him all the way back to the Shire.

when they made it back to Forest Hills Trailer Park, eddie pulled steve into his trailer and helped him strip out of his wet clothes and put them in the washer with his own.

“you know how to do laundry?” steve asked sounding surprised, leaning in closer to smell eddie. “but aren’t you an alpha? my dad says alphas don’t do laundry.”

“your dad sounds like a bad alpha. sorry!” eddie quickly apologized. “my uncle wayne just says that alphas should be able to take care of themselves and their omega too.”

“woah,” steve said, looking at eddie in awe. “is your uncle an alpha?”

“no,” eddie said, leading steve to his room to pick out dry clothes. “he’s an omega. he’s also like, the best person ever. if you’re still scared we can take some toys and go lay in his nest. i’ve got action figures and race cars and teddy bears.”

“i’m not scared,” steve insisted putting on eddie’s too-big pajamas. “but i guess we could go lay in your uncles nest if you are.”

“okay, grab a toy and follow me.” eddie said, taking steve’s hand for good measure after he picked up eddie’s biggest teddy. he took steve right to the center of the nest, giggling when steve burrowed in and let out a little purr.

“it’s good, right?” eddie said as he breathed in deep. “uncle wayne smells like a campfire marshmallows.”

steve hummed his agreement. “you smell nice too. like cinnamon and christmas trees.”

eddie’s cheeks grew hot. “you smell better now. you were sour in the forest, but now you smell like an orange.”

steve blushed and hugged his teddy bear tighter. “can you hug me while i go to sleep? my nanny always hugs me until i go back to sleep when i have scary dreams.”

“sure,” eddie scoots closer and wraps his arms around steve, “you’re safe now. uncle wayne will be home soon and he can find your house. or you could just stay here and live with us! we could be friends. i’ve never had a friend before; i bet it’s even better than pretend ones!”

steve’s soft little snore was the only answer, but eddie didn’t need a reply. something in his chest clicked when he held steve and he knew that they’d have forever to talk once steve woke up, because steve was his and he was steves. eddie snuggled in closer and let his own sleepy lids flutter shut. he fell asleep wondering if steve would rather be legolas or frodo next time they ventured into the woods of middle earth; no doubt in his mind that they would share their next adventure together.

[yeahthatsonearthdipshit000]

things that I didn't expect in each Lockood & Co. episode

E.1: This Will Be Us:

The intro is fucking sick

THE DOOR ON THE LANDING IS IN THE INTROOOOO

The Locket was changed to a ring?!????

Everything else was insanely accurate

"Lockwood's a dick"

E.2: Let Go Of Me:

Ghost-lock is like...a really big issue??

"Yeah, she can be a bit...quirky,"

Lockwood didn't use his smiley giraffe toy mobile😭

Uh Lucy was literally possessed~

LOCKWOOD'S RED SOCKSSS

"He's a little shit, sir."

The boys freaking out at the end when they find out Lucy had the ring the whole time

E.3: Doubt Thou The Stars:

"You've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you?" "Well, if you want to put it like that."

Combe Carrey Hall is ELEGANT

THE GOGGLES ARE SO GOOFY LOOKING OML

They got "arrested"???

Penelope Fittes just trotting up to them at the Fitte's boy's funeral??

LUCY GETTING HER FOURTH GRADE

LUCY JUST FUCKING PASSING OUT AT THE END???

E.4: Sweet Dreams:

Lucy wasn't at the wraith cemetery at the beginning of the whispering skull😭

"And you just wanna watch him...die."

JOPLIN IS A WOMANNNNNN💅💅💪💅😭

Kensel Green was owned by the Bickerstaffs and their son - Edmund - was caught digging up corpses uhhhhh

Lucy's mental breakdown in kensel green

Bickerstaffs ghost being so fucking huge and like disintegrating lucy's rapier

The skull's voice being like warped and so fucking creepy oml

"and it proves that I am like-" "clinically insane?" "REALLY FUCKIN POWERFUL"

"I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor."

The episode went by insanely quick??? Like?

E.5: Death Is Coming:

The Tendy's badge??

Joplin is giving....pedophile

Also is her actor the same one who plays molly in sherlock????

MRS WINKMAN IS A FUCKIN BADASS

Nahhh cuz winkman's freaking voice-

LOCKWOOD WAS IN AN ELECTRIC CHAIR THE WHOLE TIME LMAO

ALSO WHY IS WINKMAN SO VIOLENT ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO CARESS LOCKY'S HAND AND TELL HIM TO GO AWAY??

Leopold was abused😭😭😭😭😭

E.6: You Never Asked:

The ghosts of bickerstaff's patients like that was so creepy

The Golden Blade's manbun💅

Salt sprinklers instead of water sprinklers??? And they're gorgeous??!???

E.7: Mesmerised

LOCKWOOD HYPERVENTILATING AT THE AUCTION AND HIM AND LUCY HOLDING EACH OTHER AND THE "NOW PLEASE PLEASE GET BACK TO BEING A FLIPPANT DICKGEAD AND GET US OUT OF HERE"😭😭😭

Golden blade snapping Lockwood's rapier and then lucy hoping up behind him and absolutely annihilating his fucking back

Lockwood was wearing blue socks this time

"You me and herons, let's do it" AHSHSVSH I'VE ALWAYS SHIPPED GEORGE AND FLO ITS FINALLY HAPPENINGBKAJDBD

LOCKWOOD HELPING LUCY OF THE GROUND AND THEM LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THEY'RE GONNA KISS AND THEN LUCY SHOVING LOCKY AND StRuTtInG AWAY

E.8: Not The Eternal:

All of the circles George drew on the thinking cloth

Winkman taking his jacket off like a baddie💅💪

"And I'm Anthony bloody Lockwood"

Kipps having a panic attack and totally crying in the catacombs😭

Kat godwin being so fucking sexy with her rapier

"To save my friends." 🏃‍♂️"And Kipps."🏃‍♂️

Golden Blade shooting Lockwood and yeeting him down into the catacombs

Luce using the skull to look at the bone glass????

Lockwood in his normal clothes at the end and all of them bustling around like a little family😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Lockwood almost died a thousand times, but I think he's decided he's better off alive. Which is really good"

LUCY SHOVING A DONUT IN GEORGE'S MOUTH LMAOOO

AND LOCKY WASN'T WEARING SHOES

IN CONCLUSION I AM READY FOR THE HOLLOW BOY

[diacripticcomplex]

~Shu x Yui One Shot~

"That looks horrible on you." I bluntly say to her, I'm lying of course, she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world, and demon world but I will never confess that to her. She looks at me and frowns, I enjoyed that frown. "What's wrong with it?" She questioned, which caused me to smirk at her slightly, I let out a chuckle before saying "Nothing, I just prefer you with little to no clothing at all." This causes her to blush, her eyes widen and her vision revert to the floor. My hand shoots up to grab her delicate face, I could crush it so easily, I lift her head up and look right at her with my cold eyes, this beautiful girl..she's all mine, I wouldn't give her to nobody, I'd do unspeakable things for her. She pulls her face away and pushes me back. "No Shu..We can't, I can't keep making this mistake over and over again..you left me when I needed you most..you hurt me in so many ways.." she goes on saying, and the memories of that night came flooding back to me.

We were arguing again over this plan to leave the mansion and be together in the demon world, I told her I would not be able to protect her from all the creatures, assassins and my brothers wraiths..I didn't want to deal with that responsibility or even that loss..so I decided that night to let her go..well I tried to, truly did but it was impossible for me, every part of me yearned for her, and wanted to be next to her, I avoided her as long as I could. But for some reason I still thought of her, what she was doing…who she was with..her scent was always fresh in my nostrils as well, no matter how long I went without seeing her…her scent lingered. “You’re breaking up with me??” She looked at me with so much sorrow in her eyes. I remember how she wept and begged for me to reconsider, her begging honestly annoyed me, I just wanted to get this over with..thinking back I was rather harsh, she genuinely loved and cared for me but I threw it all away because I wasn’t ready to take responsibility for her..I wasn’t ready to be the man for her.

“Shu I don’t want to be with you…I can’t” she says snapping me out of my head. Honestly upsetting me greatly but I guess that’s deserved. “Yes you can..and you will” I whisper to her before lightly kissing her neck, “you’re still mine” I say as I greedily suckle on her skin, my fangs grazing her flesh then piercing it. I missed this delicious blood. She cries out at first then moans into it, panting out for me to stop hurting her, I cover her mouth with one hand and use my other hand to grope her butt, going lower I begin stroking her sensitive spot, she was whimpering at this point, begging for me to leave her alone, I didn’t want to…

She’s so wet for me…I know she wants this too. Fingering her wasn’t enough I wanted our bodies and souls to be connected once more. I rammed my way inside of her, thrusting deeply and passionately, I was really putting in my energy into her, I looked at her face as I was fucking her she was crying so much…I take it out of her then embrace her tightly. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry I’m an idiot..I should’ve loved you correctly and been there for you when you needed me most..I know I’m a coward and you don’t deserve a coward..let me become the man you want..” I propose to her, but she looks at me with such numb eyes and says one thing and one thing only, no…

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 46

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of Nadja on a blue and mauve background wearing a purple dress and her hair up in a messy bun. She holds up a hand, brow creased in concern, and says ‘Wait, wait, Guillermo, slow down.’ 2. Zoom out to show her and Dolly sitting at a low coffee table with an open box labeled ‘glass eyes’ and a brown taxidermy rabbit wearing a striped sweater and a pair of round wire glasses. Nadja studies it with her hand on her chin, tongue poking out in concentration, and says ‘I am trying to find the best likeness…’ Dolly, little hands perched on the table, pipes up, ‘The mahogany, I think.’ In the foreground, ghost Guillermo’s shoulder and left arm are visible, hand hovering in midair and shaking with frustration. 3. Repeat. Guillermo curls his hand into a fist and lashes it downwards, shouting, ‘Are you even listening to me?!’ The table and all its contents bounces upwards, surrounded by his ghostly light, sending eyes scattering around and knocking the rabbit over. Nadja startles backward in shock and Dolly flicks her eyes toward Guillermo in surprise. 4. Shot of Guillermo on a blazing orange background splattered with red. He hovers, nearly-complete wraith cloak spiking around him with anxiety, and presses his hands to either side of his head with an expression of pure panic. He shrieks, ‘Vampire me is running on pure slayer instinct, mindlessly killing every vampire he comes across! And I just sent Nandor straight to him!’ 5. Reverse shot of Nadja and Dolly busying themselves by putting glass eyes back into their box. Nadja scowls and sucks her teeth dismissively, mocking, ‘’Slayer instinct’… I handled four of you on my own, Nandor can handle one.’ Dolly points out, ‘A vampiric one he can’t hypnotize.’ Nadja shoots back, ‘Whatever! What kind of great warrior would he be if he can’t even beat his own familiar?’ 6. Shot moves to include Guillermo floating on the other side of the table, Nadja in profile. She looks at him with an unimpressed expression and leans forward, elbow on the table, gesturing with her hand. She continues, ‘Besides, unlike your delightful murderful family, you never got the sweaty juice-bumps that made you want to kill us.’ Guillermo, calmed slightly, turns a bit pink and wrings his hands together, replying haltingly ‘Um. I mean. I did, at first. I just…may have…misinterpreted…’ 7. Repeat. Guillermo looks away, flustered, turning redder. Nadja drops her hand and stares at him questioningly. 8. Repeat. Nadja has a realization and gasps in delight, slapping her palm down on the table and grinning proudly at Guillermo, eyes full of stars. She crows, ‘You horny little mongrel!’ Guillermo avoids her gaze, only getting redder and more flustered, and tosses his hands up, saying, ‘Let’s not talk about that now!’ /end ID

[fallen-flier]

the moon will sing (time traveling tim)

so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!

part 2

The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.

Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.

Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.

So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something. 

Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.

—

Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.

But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing. 

Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.

And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this. 

Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.

Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.

Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.

Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes. 

Oh, shoot. 

So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly. 

It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.

Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer. 

He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother. 

It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.

And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways. 

Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.

prevent jason’s death 

Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan. 

—

A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.

Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?

Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table. 

He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.

It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them. 

But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.

Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.

—

Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor.  But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.

He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.

It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison. 

It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.

Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail. 

Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.

a/n:

i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things

tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao

also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head

but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing

thanks for reading! :D

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

It’s half past midnight as I’m starting this, who knows what time it will be when I finish it, let’s talk: Inej versus the Wraith.

Ok I’ve been thinking a lot about the distinction between Inej and the Wraith as a concept similar to the desperation of Kaz and Dirtyhands or Kaz Brekker and Kaz Rietveld, and I think I’ve noticed an actual trend in the books of using the epithet at certain times or in certain tones. For example, when the group find the pyre in chapter 19/20 and realise one of the victims is still alive, Jesper shoots them to end their pain. Kaz wanted Inej to do it since using her knives would be quieter than the gun, but she can’t bring herself to. In this moment, she is described exclusively as “Inej”. Later in chapter 20 she kills a parem-drugged fabrikator in order to save their lives, and is described as “the Wraith”. Not only is there the suggestion of a growing distinction between the two, but it is now being noticed by the characters as well as just the reader. For Kaz it’s really only the reader (and maybe Inej but I’d argue not to a full extent until Crooked Kingdom) who sees this distinction because we are closer to him than he lets anyone else get, we are the only people who really know what he’s thinking and see the two sides of his personality or the two potentials for who he could be. But with Inej it’s almost the exact opposite, we as the reader see the idea of the Wraith as an epithet invented by Kaz and an as empowering epithet designed to counter the dehumanising “Lynx” whilst still echoing the trauma of her past by linking very clearly to Inej’s descriptions of leaving her body behind and thinking “I’m already dead, I died in the hold of a slaver ship”, whilst the characters begin to almost refer to the Wraith and Inej as separate entities. I’m using Jesper as my example here since he’s the one to calll her the Wraith in chapter 20 - “trust the Wraith” - and the one to shoot the dying Grisha at the pyre, both to spare them and her from pain. It seems a sudden turnabout to go from a non-verbal or even any kind of communicatory acknowledgment that he needs to step in for her to expecting, trusting, and praising her for killing, but arguably that’s because he has seen a change in her during this short period of time.

It’s also worth noting that Nina almost always calls her Inej, in fact I don’t think she once calls her Wraith (at least to my immediate recollection, feel free to correct me) except when she uses the name to call Kaz out when he says “the Wraith can handle it” and she replies “the Wraith is a 16-year-old girl” and goes on to emphasise Inej’s injuries. But even in this scene, which is on the boat to Fjerda when it’s still unclear whether Inej will even survive and Kaz is talking about making her climb up the incinerator shaft at the Ice Court, Nina begins the conversation by saying Kaz can’t make Inej do that, and he comes back with “the Wraith can manage”. This suggests he sees a distinction between them as well, perhaps that Inej is a religious young woman who’s been left incredibly vulnerable but the Wraith is a hardened criminal with nothing to lose. By choosing to refer to her as the Wraith when he plans to put her through something so incredibly difficult, he is alleviating himself from the guilt of harming a vulnerable young woman by instead considering her as a hardened criminal. Nina calling him out in this shit (yeah I said it and I stand by it) clearly annoys Kaz or he wouldn’t have bothered arguing back to her, as he usually doesn’t. Arguably we could extend this to the idea that the others call her Inej when she’s the person they know and care about but the Wraith when she’s violent or commits crimes so they can actively choose to separate the image of warm, kind-hearted Inej from cruel or calculating Wraith.

Now everything I’ve said so far really comes down to perception so in terms of analysis it’s the kind of thing that you can say confidently and have accepted as accurate or at least as a reasonable interpretation, like when critics tell you that the dream sequence in Frankenstein can mean on of the following 5 things so you agree with them because they clearly know what they’re talking about. (Not that I’m saying the dream doesn’t mean one of those 5 things it can definitely be interpreted in those ways, it’s just an example of something in literature I’ve seen we kind of take as fact when it is, of course, all yo for interpretation). However, I want to be clear that what I’m going to say from now on can be considered a possible theory or interpretation of Inej surrounding her mental state and ptsd response. I’ve talked about it recently as part of other posts and I’m basically about to repeat myself word for word, but I wanted to compress this all into one post on the theme and include the stuff about the characters actually perceiving her that way too.

So first you we have a quote from the Crooked Kingdom Bathroom Scene™️, and what I’m going to say here is pretty much going to be exactly the same as what I wrote in my detailed breakdown and analysis of that scene, which if anyone wants to read is on my page or I can tag you if you’d like. The quote I want to talk about is: “I live in fear that I’ll see one of her - one of my clients on the street. For a while I thought I saw them everywhere”. Now I’m about to say there are 2 was to read this, but I mean this in a “I’ve read this is in two different ways” kinda way not in a “this can only be interpreted in these 2 ways” kinda way ok we’re embracing the de-classicising of literature here (I have no idea if that’s the right word or if that even makes sense but hopefully you know what I mean, I’m tired, bare with me) and we are open to any and all possible interpretations of things in any way they’re written so whooo if you read this quote in a different way let me know would love to hear it, these are the two ways I read it:

Firstly, that when she refers to “her” Inej means Heleen but edits her words as a continuation of this vulnerability she is forcing herself to share in this scene. If we exclude her being vulnerable with the reader, this is the most vulnerable we ever see Inej make herself - aka, this is the only time she allows herself to be deeply vulnerable out loud with another character. I think this closest other time we get is with Nina on the boat to Fjerda when Inej is trying to ward of flashbacks and she tells Nina why she doesn’t have the Crow Cup tattoo. However, that scene is written from Inej’s perspective and therefore gives her the opportunity to show the reader a lot more vulnerability than she shows Nina (eg when she has flashbacks the reader knows but Nina doesn’t because Inej is just egging her on to keep singing and distracting her; Nina knows something is happening but she isn’t being brought into the moment to share it because Inej isn’t in a position where she’s able to share her vulnerability) so our memory of this scene being particularly vulnerable is actually more about Inej being very honest with us, which of course isn’t an active choice, and less about her being very honest with Nina. Having the Bathroom Scene ™️ from Kaz’s perspective gives us the opportunity to have Inej’s openness and vulnerability in the scene far stronger since she has to say something out loud for us to know with certainty that she’s thinking it. Arguably if it had been a less vulnerable scene, Inej would have said “her clients” in reference two Tante Heleen as an added layer of the separation she practices, but here she changes it to “my” clients because she is forcing herself to be uncomfortable because she wants to be able to be more open with Kaz and she wants to continue this vulnerability that she’s allowing herself ti have with him. I feel like I just some variation on vulnerable like 20 times.

The second way I read it is linking back to our main theme of Inej and the Wraith as separate entities. “Inej talks a lot about how she would leave her body behind to exist only in her mind, in passages I find particularly reminiscent of passages in The Handmaid’s Tale (although please note soc is not very explicit whereas tht is incredibly explicit). But to take that idea further, I think there are certain hints, and I think this is possibly the biggest one, to imply that one of Inej’s ptsd responses it to actually view herself today as a separate entity from who she was during her indenture, effectively saying ‘yes these things happened to this body but they didn’t happen to this mind so that should make it easier’ to herself, which is massively self-destructive in nature because it almost creates this idea that she needs to get over who she once was and move on, very similar to the way Kaz Brekker represses Kaz Rietveld. Arguably, what she’s saying is the worst of it is this fracturing of the self that has been created by what they put her through and that she cannot seem to escape from.” (I put that bit in quote marks because I didn’t feel like rewriting it so that’s copy and pasted exactly from my Bathroom Scene™️ analysis post)

Ok there’s one other specific quote I want to bring up and it’s the end of Chapter 2 of Six of Crows, I did talk about it in my favourite quotes analysis of the chapter (which I am planning to continue btw chapter 5 up next if anyone wants to read these posts for the previous chapters let me know and I’ll tag you).

"Inej pitied the boy who might die alone with no one to comfort him in his last hours or who might live and spend his life as an exile. But the night's work wasn't over yet, and the Wraith didn't have time for traitors"

This I think, unless there are more I haven’t noticed/thought of yet is the only other time we get an suggestion of Inej perceiving herself and the Wraith as separate, and it’s arguably more concrete than the amendment of pronouns I just talked about for a ridiculous amount of time. To me, this quote shows Inej as being the girl she was, the girl she should have been, and the Wraith being a creation of necessity to aid survival. Inej is a religious young woman from Ravka who has been through far more than she should have done, but the Wraith was born and raised on the blood-soaked streets of Ketterdam and has every intention of surviving them - no matter the cost.

(That was also pretty much direct quotes from what said before)

It is now quarter past one in the morning. If you made it this far then thanks so much for reading I hope it made sense and was interesting, I feel like I’ve made enough “me rambling about grishaverse after midnight” posts that we can call it a series so if I think of a good name for it I’ll go through a tag them all so if anyone fancies trying to wade through all my middle-of-the-night-analysis nonsense you can find it all together because let me tell you something I never quite acknowledge just how much I’ve posted until I have to scroll back through to find stuff I’ve said in order to reference it in a new post. Anyway, thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed and if you have any thoughts linked to this or grishaverse analysis in general please comment or send me an ask I would love to hear it.

EDIT: sorry, correction, I just realised Inej didn’t kill the parem-drugged fabrikator she killed the parem-drugged squaller; the fabrikator was Nina’s childhood friend Nestor, he died from a combination of injury and the drug

[tough-n-dumb]

lullabies

this ficlet is shamelessly inspired by the ending of No Reason to Be Afraid by @insignificant457 because i couldn't get inej wishing kaz a goodnight out of my head. thank you for writing this beautiful pre-canon fic—all credit goes to you!

“Goodnight,” she calls after him, then winces. Goodnight? You’ve just joined a gang, Inej, have a little dignity. He pauses, already halfway out of view, then leans back to look around the doorframe, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “Goodnight,” he says stiffly. She gives him a weak smile, which he registers before leaving without further comment.

Read below or read on AO3

It becomes a habit; a nightly routine. A goodnight, Kaz her closing remarks of most evenings—or sometimes in the dark and early hours of the morning, depending on the day. More often than not, he’ll murmur it back. If he doesn’t, she’ll give him a little tsk and a hushed, chiding manners before slipping out the window. 

They spend more time together than she thought they would—probably more than he thought as well. But after jobs, she begins to linger, the windowsill in his attic rooms now her designated perch. From it, she can watch both him and the city like the spy he’s crafting her into. She likes to dangle her feet into the cool air and observe the stars that burst through Ketterdam’s cloudy sky. They’re in different places in the night sky here than in the Ravkan plains and mountains, but the constellations are familiar. She is so far from home, but the longer she spends in the Slat, in her perch in this dangerous boy’s room, the more the definition of home starts to change (though for her, home has always been other people). 

She sometimes uses variations like sleep well or sweet dreams though she knows he’ll most likely have neither. She tries not to worry about that; tries not to listen to his pacing above her, the way his bed will creak in the middle of the night from him tossing and turning. She can only imagine what he sees when he closes his eyes in the dark. She understands what it’s like to face your demons even in sleep. 

When she uses these softer variations, he’ll often smirk and offer a wry remark in return. Something along the lines of, “What’s next Wraith, you’ll sing me lullabies?”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” she shoots back. She gets comfortable, teasing him like this, and it pleases her that he doesn’t seem to let anyone else get away with it. 

But what neither of them know—and how could they?—is that years down the line when those same nightmares come knocking she will do just that, lending him the lilting words her parents sang to lull her to sleep whispered into his hair, the rich Suli consonants curling around them in the darkness. Their voices, they find, are one of the best ways to bring each other back from the crumbling ledge of their memories—though they’ve always known to some degree that that was the case. 

One night, she’s reclined on the sill, legs stretched out and head tilted back, the warmth of summer bathing over her even after the sun has set. She yawns and rubs her eyes, and when she opens them, Kaz is staring at her. He clears his throat and looks away, shuffling some papers on his desk in a manner she knows is just for show. 

“Go rest, Inej.” It’s a dismissal, but not an unkind one. Simply a directive. She nods, rubs her eyes once more and sits up all the way, about to wish him a goodnight when—

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” He mumbles it while still staring down at his mess of papers. 

She freezes and lowers her hands, a big smile spreading on her face. 

“What was that?”

“Go to bed, Inej.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what you said.” She is absolutely grinning now, much too pleased that she’s taught her Barrel boy niceties. She thinks his face is slowly turning pink, the tips of his ears bright with color. 

When he finally looks up at her, she feels her chest tighten at the sight. His eyes are so dark they’re nearly black in the room’s low light. The shadows crease his face into hard lines, but yes, there it is—a high blush spreading across his sharp cheeks. 

“Goodnight,” he finally repeats. “And have the sweetest of dreams, darling.” He’s injected a gratuitous amount of sarcasm into the words, but the way his eyes dart over her face—and, she thinks, settle on her lips before he looks back down at his desk—gives him away. 

“Goodnight, Kaz,” she says before slipping into the night. Tonight, she isn’t plagued with her usual nightmares. Tonight, she dreams of a leather-clad hand in hers, warmed by the sun, and sea breeze in her hair.

[binahs-sinbin]

ooh how about hcs of the Octotrio…with reader in a scuffle with Floyd and he lifts them up so they cant run and in response, they punt him in the balls to get him to drop them?

like kinda just how they’d respond to it I guess? (Maybe they have a crush on reader and are flustered?)

Oh this is interesting! I hope I did it right? I write it a little…explicit in some points with clear pining on their behalves and crushes on reader!

All characters are depicted as 18+! Slight adult themes! (Also punting Floyd in the balls twice for good measure!)

~

Intro:

You had been shoved around one times to many by a certain mer-eel who didn’t know when to stop, and his companions were useless with coming to your aid and you wanted him to stop now.

After a nearly twenty minutes of struggling you almost got away but the damn eel lifted you up by the sides and laughed!

That’s it! You drew back your foot and kicked as hard as you possibly could aiming right between his legs. You can feel the targets of your wraith under your knee, and the tremble that shoots through Floyd.

But he doesn’t let go, just stares at you in shock only for you to draw your foot back again. He didn’t have a chance to react before your foot hits him right in his groin again, this time you feel the softness of them both colliding with your foot.

Oh maybe you missed one the first time?

Azul

He was about to scold Floyd, but stopped thinking Jade would step in, upon Floyd lifting you up he was grinning thinking it was entertaining…until the eel was kicked in the dick

Azul felt his own manhood ache in sympathy, he’s hit his own bits on the corner of his desk before…seeing how much force you used he was surprised Floyd stood there for a few seconds after you got free and ran off

Then Floyd collapsed and he’s realizing just how strong you are and feels the need to wear a cup around you now

He apologizes to you later over it (with a textbook covering his family jewels and his legs as closed as can be) and gives you a free meal asking for a chance to make it up to you

Jade

He’s smirking watching his twin antagonize you, until he hears a clear ‘thud’ and sees his twin get a well aimed kick to his manhood. When he doesn’t drop you, you give another kick and Jade can’t help but notice you went toe up to maximize the pain his twin would feel

He waits till you flee to come to Floyd’s aid (not interested in risking a painful lesson himself) and helps Floyd get back to his feet

He’s silently laughing as he watches his twin limp away with his tail between his legs, had it been anyone else he’s sure Floyd would have gone after them

He doesn’t act too differently afterwards but will occasionally flirt with you and joke about the incident with nonsense like “Oh, before I ask, just a ‘no’ will suffice, I don’t need a kick in the dick to be told off.” (Which might have stopped after it earned himself a surprise kick to his very own dick)

Floyd

He thought it would be fun to pick you up, he didn’t want drop you so high up! But…after the pain he dropped you and as much as he wanted to go after you to grab you again, the throbbing between his legs tells him not to

He is upset about the lecture he gets later but he’s not stopping trying to grab you again the future since he loves his shrimpy!!

He just gives you a ‘safe word’ for when you wanna go down again! That way you don’t have to worry needing to kick him again!

He gives you a gift as a sorry later (Azul and Jade made him apologize saying they cant afford to be on your bad side)

[orionremastered]

oml, so I saw the post about the shape shifter golden tiger and I absolutely loved it. I was just wondering if you could do one where the reader is a panther!shapshifter instead. Another big cat, maybe just smaller than the tiger but they are way for flexible, agile and stealthy (got me thinking of Bageera from Jungle book) so imagine how everyone reacts when this panther is just roaming around Gotham city. (And maybe Robin could get to pet this one since he didn't get to pet the golden tiger)

Kisses >3<♥️🧡💛💙

Masterlist

Wraith

"You're too young! You're not ready to go out into the real world."

You're an early maturing shifter at the age of fourteen, not the common age of eighteen that most shifters mature at. But your parents wouldn't budge, and it pissed you off.

So you snuck out like every teenager does. Out to the port, watching a cargo ship unload containers into trucks in the low light of nighttime.

You blend in with the shadows, watching the common event with fascination. You've never seen anything like this before, people just going about their daily lives and experiencing the same things as you.

Fascinating.

You're enjoying it, the peaceful moment with the sea breeze bringing the smell of salt to your strong nose. It's short-lived as the sharp bang of fire startles you into action. Port workers collapse on themselves as a group masked and dressed in black rush in and converge on a single shipping container.

Shit.

You jump into action despite your parents' warning of staying far out of trouble, taking down one of the men quickly and returning to the shadows in an instant.

"What was that?"

"Golden? The Bat?"

You launch at another unsuspecting thug, clawing at his neck before scampering back to the shadows once he swiftly goes limp. The other two remaining look around wildly, guns waving around. Just when you think they've found you and are about to shoot, a high-pitched whistling sound whips past you and lands in the form of a batarang, lodging into one of their hands.

He screams and drops the gun, allowing you to pounce and take the last one out.

The only sounds that fill your ears are the quiet musings of the dark sea, slowly churning around the port deck as it moves towards the sands.

"Another shifter?"

You raise your head, blinking slowly as you watch Spoiler appear from the shadows.

"A panther this time... huh." She creeps closer and smiles when you allow her to scratch behind your ear. Then she says something into her comms. "How about we see what they were trying to steal."

The two of you slowly approach the shipping container, dented with bullets that have melted off the blue (and already scratched) paint. Spoiler hauls the door open and you can see what's inside before she even pulls the flashlight from her utility belt.

Unmarked, unnamed crates.

You walk over to one of them and take a careful sniff, nose scrunching at the chemical smell. You let out an annoyed growl and Spoiler laughs. "Doesn't smell good?"

She pries the crate open and you stand your front paws on the rim.

Rows and rows of vials with pale blue liquid. You look at Spoiler and she shrugs.

"I'll have to get these tested," she says, taking one from the crate and handling it gently. "The GCPD can take the rest."

She gives you a gentle pat on the head. "See you around, uh, Ghost? No, Wraith. Wraith's better."

You nod your head, flick your tail, exit the shipping container and melt back into the shadows of the port. Your parents will kill you if you're tired in the morning.

Spoiler sighs as she watches you leave. "It's like there's a new one every day."

[gremlinmodetweeker]

You're A What Now?

Just some silliness and then angst with Ghostbusters König because I can't commit to one genre.

TWs: Discussion of Nazi occupation of Austria, Nazis, Graphic Descriptions of Violence

Wordcount: 1.75 K

Story Below the Cut

Visuals [1] [2]

You're A What Now?

“DUCK!”

You dropped to the floor with a thud as the phantom screamed overhead.

“SHOOT”

ZAP!

You could see the electricity arcing overhead in great bright branches of lightening, scouring the wallpaper a charred black as Horangi wrangled the proton blaster under control.

“Nikto she’s coming your way!” Roze screamed over the sound of crackling lightening.

“On it,” a heavy Russian accent called back as a hulking machine of a man barrelled down the hallway, “south entrance clear!”

Horangi spit and hissed like a barn cat as he leaped over a broken chaise-lounge to dart after the phantasmal spectre, nearly tripping over you in the process. He looked down at you and barked, “On your feet, recruit!”

You scrambled to get your limbs under you as you watched the posse careening down the hall. You leaped to your feet and ran up behind them.

Okay, so, as of your first day on the Ghostbusters team, you can officially say that you believe in ghosts. Damn your lifelong skepticism, you weren’t going to fuck around and figure out just how bad a possession was gonna be on your first day.

You slammed into the wall before crashing into the kitchen where Roze, Nikto and Horangi were all running around like they’re heads were lopped off. You nearly missed it, but König was ducked in the corner with a screwdriver in his hand, cursing under his breath in his other tongue as though he could peel wallpaper with his venom.

“König where’s the trap at?” Horangi ducked under a piece of antique china being thrown his way.

“I-Verdammt-There’s a problem!” he called back.

“We don’t got time for problems, big guy,” Roze bellowed as she zapped the ghost with another blast.

“Then make time!” he spat before turning back to his tech.

“I thought Germans were great mechanics!” you yelled as you joined Roze with your own proton stream.

For just a brief moment, everyone in the room stalled. A plate crashed against the side of Horangi’s head, breaking the tension.

“Did you just call me German!?” König rose up to his feet as though he were a wraith himself.

“No no no not the time König!” Roze growled as she wrestled with the ghost.

“Now’s the perfect time!” König crossed his arms as he widened his stance, “I will not tolerate this clear display of intolerance and xenophobia from our newest recruit!”

Nikto took the opportunity to snatch the trap from König and got to working on it himself.

“I am not a German! I am not of such inferior breeding!” König crowed proudly as Horangi jumped over a flying chair.

“I thought you said the recruit was the xenophobe over here,” Horangi ducked behind an overturned table.

“Germany is a country of thralls and ignoramuses! The entire nation is devoted to blood and genocide!” König stamped his foot for emphasis, “I will not allow such a people to overrule my homeland any longer!”

“It was a brief occupation during Nazi Germany,” Nikto was barely legible over the sound of the spirit being slammed into a wall.

“And we will never forget!” König pumped a fist into the air defiantly.

“I’m sorry!” you wailed as you threw yourself behind the table with Horangi.

“Sorry is not enough! What, do you think I am some sort of Nazi!?” König spat.

“Your grandfather nearly was,” Horangi drawled blithely as he ducked behind the table to avoid a flying toaster.

You, Roze and Nikto all stopped what you were doing to look at König. Even the spirit stopped her struggling to watch the 6’10 scientist turn redder by the second.

“YOU SWORE TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT.” 

And with that, König vaulted the table to lunge at Horangi.

“Get off me fatass!” Horangi growled as he hoofed König in the gut.

"Shut up you slimy little shit!"

"Tasty," Nikto drawled sarcastically.

Seeing an opportunity, the ghost quietly phased through the back wall of the kitchen while Nikto and Roze were distracted. You only noticed because you were watching Nikto drop the trap to try and haul König off Horangi, only to trip on the slime left behind and fall face forward onto the others in a cluster-fuck of legs and arms.

“Get off of me you commie bastard!” Hornagi howled as he thrashed at the bottom of the pile.

“Stop your squirming, I can’t get up!” Nikto snapped back as he tried to extract himself from the group.

Roze dropped her proton blaster back into its sheath before lumbering over to help Nikto get back to his feet while you stooped to extract Horangi from König’s grasp.

Once the group had all gotten to their feet, Roze sighed and stepped back before tapping the side of her headset, “Okay so, we lost track of the ghost.”

“What?” Hutch’s voice came through the static, “how? You were right there.”

“König had a shit-fit,” Roze grumbled as she stalked down the hall, “can you follow the readings through the house?”

“I’ll get right on it,” Hutch replied before the line cut.

You watched as Horangi wiped himself down as he shook the dust from his back. He looked at you, one of his spectacles cracked but somehow miraculously intact. He looked at König, who was doubled over wheezing while the adrenaline left his system and the pain from Horangi’s kick sunk in.

“You owe me a coffee,” Horangi joked, clapping your shoulder before following Roze and Nikto to the next room.

This, of course, left you alone with König.

You awkwardly nudged over to the door, worried that the man would clobber you next but he stopped you with one raised hand.

“Ah, recruit, I’m sorry you had to see that,” König huffed and puffed as he slowly drew himself to his full height again, “Gott in Himmel I’m getting too old for this.”

“I mean, you still seem pretty young,” you offered him politely.

“You’re too nice,” König hacked and heaved, “mein Gott, I thought he was a physicist, not a damn kickboxer!”

“Yeah, it looked like it hurt pretty bad,” you chuckled.

“I think I might need a minute,” König righted a fallen chair and plopped down onto it. Without a word, he pulled up a second and patted the seat, leaving it empty for you. You tentatively took the seat, a bit concerned the man beside you might keel over any minute.

“Sorry about getting so upset,” König sighed, “I just… Ever since coming to America, everyone here calls me German! Everyone! It’s not too hard to notice the difference, is it?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever met an Austrian before,” you told him.

“Really?” König sat up to look at you, “how long have you been in this city?”

“Long enough to know there’s not many Austrians here,” you laughed.

“Well, then consider me your first,” König determined, “but yes, um, I’m sorry about making such a fuss. I just… I cannot stand being called a German. Those damned Germans…” he shook his head, “never forget.”

“Never forget what?” you asked.

“The occupation,” König said, “Austria used to be a part of Germany, but it separated in 1866. Then Hitler comes around and he drums up all this Nazi support and tricks my people into falling for his lies. Then, he comes and steamrolls my country.”

“So there’s still a lotta tension, I’m guessing?” you tried to make a joke, but it fell flat on its face.

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” König said, “but I guess I don’t hate them that much. I just hate how everyone calls me German! I’m not a damn German, I’m an Austrian! My family’s been in Austria for generations! It’s like no American knows how to look on a damn map.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“And how would you feel being called a citizen of a country that once tried to crush you beneath its boot? My poor Opa… Well, you heard Horangi,” König spat.

“He was a Nazi?” you cringed despite yourself.

“Nearly a Nazi,” König swiftly corrected you, “he was a good soldier once, but he didn’t respect the Germans or what they stood for, so he broke his own leg to stop Hitler's men from sending him to war.”

“Wait, really?”

“Oh ja, but he was worried that might not be enough. So, he took on a new identity and moved across the country,” König explained, “he first tried to be an accountant, but he couldn’t do math so good so he went to go be a mechanic in my village. He used to be a panzermensch, so he was able to take some of those old skills he learned to get by.”

“Did anyone ever figure out who he was?” you asked curiously.

“Only one person,” König shrugged, “my Oma.”

You chuckled, “So he married her to keep her quiet?”

“Not then and there, but he did promise her that he would one day,” König snickered, “so they stayed low until Austria became independent again. Then my Opa took back his old name and married my Oma.”

“That’s really cute,” you smiled brightly.

“They were very cute,” König agreed, “but ja, if it weren’t for the Nazis, my Opa could have been a much richer man. The work in the village did not pay well, but he could have earned good money in the army. Mein Vater did not grow up with much, and he didn’t make much more for us when he married meine Mutter.”

“So Germany really fucked up a lot of your life,” you concluded.

“And then people go and call me German! It’s…” König sighed, “I do not like it very much.”

“Makes sense,” you nodded and leaned forward on your knees.

The silence between you stretched on forever, but a part of you never wanted it to end. There was something comfortable about being able to just enjoy the quiet with a man like König. Something about how he filled the space of the room left little space for conversation to try and shake the solid grounds you both stood on. It wasn’t like you often had a chance to talk, and when you did it normally was curt and strained in tone. This moment was a welcome break.

“Alright you two,” Hutch’s voice crackled through your headset, making you nearly jump a good five feet out of your seat, “the other guys need some help setting up that trap.”

“On it,” you replied as you dusted yourself off.

König stretched up beside you, hitting the ceiling with his hands before slumping back down.

“You ready?” you slipped the safety off your proton blaster.

König nodded and pulled his goggles back over his face.

“Alright,” you grinned, “let’s go bust some ghosts.”

AU Masterlist

[darkwitchingflower]

ITS BEEN A WHILE but here's things me and my friends have said as pjo character pt 4/5???

Annabeth: That's not very feminism of you (@wraith--2)

Hestia: maybe build like a life size bread bloke (@carpcranium)

Leo: Feels like my toes are bleeding but it's just cause they're defrosting (@wraith--2)

Percy to annabeth: Nooo pookie don't leave ill get her a spider abortion (friend not on tumblr)

Annabeth: I thought I'd die before seeing common sense in this gc (friend not on tumblr)

Jason: It's not boring to want money and to not be even more mentally ill (@indecisivenb)

Leo: Sure bud (me)

Piper: Jesus was not straight (@wraith--2)

Some random camper in the dining pavillion: Hes staring into my soup (@wraith--2)

Leo: Everyone needs a piece of Leo (friend not on gc)

Leo: Me dehydrated: must not drink sex juice (@wraith--2)

Jason: Me and Percy cockfight like 3 times (@chefchennan)

Piper: Harry x hermione

Ron x jesus or smth

Luna x whoever tf she ended with? (Friend not on tumblr)

Mr D to someone being given a quest: You don't have a choice

They don't have a choice

It's equality all around (me)

Piper: Im not a people pleaser, im a woman pleaser (friend not on tumblr)

Jason (idk why but i instantly thought Jason): saggy balls? (@chefchennan)

Thalia: From your local asexual xx (@wraith--2)

Thalia: Homicide on Pinterest is an interest (@wraith--2)

Chiron: oh that's nice to see! A camper with a smile! (My criminology teacher)

Annabeth: ye I made percy smile by telling him I didn't like him in greek! (Friend not on tumblr)

Apollo: Will! Thoughts on be crime do gay?! (@carpcranium)

Thalia about Frank: Me and him are still friends we shoot kids together yesterday (@chefchennan)

Will doing some form of doctor test idk: I'm gonna skedaddle into your scrotum (@wraith--2)

Thalia: I f**king love garlic bread yummers. Its gotten so bad that I eat is everyday. I sweat garlic butter and shit out logs of bread. It's an endless cycle and I remake the garlic break with what I unleash (friend not on tumblr)

Percy to Annabeth (leo helped after frank found them in the stables): Thine eyes are blessed with the sight of her. Her.

Who I wake to every morning and think of

Who I dream of at night

Aphrodite has forsaken me yet she is my light

The waves will roar and crash

And I know, she is always up for a smash (@wraith--2)

Leo to literally any girl with a pulse: When I see her thoughts are gone

And all I can do is simply long

She could never be mine

Yet still I pine (@wraith--2)

Rachel thinking abiut percy: Days will pass and the sun shall set

All the while I'd place a bet

That I'm still there

Twirling my hair

Dreaming of something that was never fair (@wraith--2)

Thalia: is is the most fun I've had in ages, I'm trying to teach the bot aromanticisum (@wraith--2)

Thalia: As a matter of fact I am definitely aromantic but thanks for the suggestion (@wraith--2)

Leo, he meant to say floppy disks: Have you ever seen one of those floppy dicks-...🤏 (friend not in tumblr)

Mr D: Anyways orgies (@wraith--2)

Will to Nico: She's like nah, no love hearts have an onion were like Shrek now (me)

Percy: When I go to sleep I'm going to dream about gay sea creatures aren't I? (@wraith--2)

Annabeth: It's okay I'm a big girl I cry into my pillow (@wraith--2)

Annabeth: ohhh right in the trust issues (@thatonelazyghost)