Oh gosh they’re gonna bully me aren’t they
Left to Right:
Sheik, 6’1”, 18 y/o; Bestir (Ganondorf), 5’3”, 13 y/o; Shadow Link, 8’1” (short for a shadow) ??? y/o
Valor, 6’3” 51 y/o (mid-teen); Remedy, 5’4”, 17 y/o; Lore, 5’5”, 18 y/o; Merry, 7’1”, 15 y/o; Ardor, 5’11”, 18 y/o; Caprice, 4’-, 346 y/o
Shad, 6’4”, 34 y/o; Malon, 7’5”, 41 y/o; Paya, 5’6” 41 y/o
Guys there are so many more you don’t understand
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THE DEPTHS: AN INSTRUMENTAL HORROR PLAYLIST FOR THE DEEP SEA
(Art: Esad Ribic. ID in alt!)
A series of instrumental tracks to use for ocean-themed horror writing, drowning, or getting lost in a submarine. Inspired by but not limited to Namor: The Depths by Peter Milligan and Esad Ribic.
Click here to listen
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Literally song of all time to me. Always and forever. I should make it the opener of love and food playlist instead of kissing a fool bc it's just too perfect but I also think kissing a fool is as well a song of all time. It's a really hard choice out there
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I was listening to the soundtrack of If/Then while I was binging your writing earlier and now I can’t stop thinking about the song “I Hate You” because I feel like it could fit pretty well with Gabe’s S/O (specifically up until around the 3:30 mark), talking/thinking about the increasing danger he was facing, the fall of Overwatch and the loss of their partner, and their conflicted feelings about who Gabe was when they were together and who he is now as Reaper.
He’d dreamt of a reunion—when dreams were still possible.
For years Reaper watched you at a distance, monitoring you as you moved about your day without the slightest glance in his direction. Despite his intention to remain unseen, each time he inflicted damage upon himself, until now, as he stood before you, he was nothing but a wound.
His enduring weakness for you was only marginally easier to accept than the glaze of what must have been hatred in your eyes as he revealed himself, interfering where he knew he shouldn’t. And while he finally deserved your hate for all the secrecy and abandonment, for reentering your life as someone else, he can hardly bear a moment of it.
“I’ve never let anyone know me,” he says as if that should explain his presence. “Just you.”
“I knew Gabriel Reyes,” you say, your voice resisting the hysterical pitch it deserves. The name carries a shadow identity, a life that collapsed in on itself, taking the future you both deserved to live, leaving you only with his storied past. “I don’t know you like this.”
“But you knew I would always do what I had to.”
Each word he says is another of his talons in your chest, a delirious search, probing for warmth and recollection. Things he hasn’t felt in years. Things only you could give to him.
Your eternally posed question for him used to be, why can’t you stay? You often asked while knowing the impossibility you faced. Now, as you stand there stuck in deep, grim inertia while he attempts to pry your irrevocably shut soul back open with the desperation of an act doomed to failure, it’s different.
It makes you reactive.
There are worse fates than being buried.
“Why couldn’t you stay dead?”
“Because you needed me. I held on for you, did this for you.” His explanation drags the distant ache ever closer. “I promised that I’d live for you.”
“You aren’t alive.”
“Not dead either.”
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