I must say, I love how Callum waited for Claudia to look at him before destroying her potion.

He absolutely could have just emptied it as soon as he grabbed it and then joined Ezran and Rayla, but he chose to wait, to pick his moment.

Whether or not Rayla knew cutting off the tentacle would result in an actual amputation for Claudia, I’m interested to see. (Personally, I think not, though I think even if she did know, or suspect, she would have done it anyway, seeing herself as having no choice.)

Callum, however, looked Claudia directly in the eye and, without hesitation, took away the means she had to breathe.

I'm already so obsessed with fae!price and his witch

Because price is a debt collector I'm just imagining he's got a lot of disgruntled beings that would do anything to get out from under his thumb. Do you think anyone would notice price's tether with the witch or his relationship with her and attempt to use that to gain leverage on him. I can imagine him cutting short anyone who tries with brutal efficiency. But his witch is also smart in being able to see through not just price's intentions but others too

If they did notice the tether, they'd probably assume it was just another person indebted to Price. But if they saw him hanging around the Witch they might start to think it was something more.

Your roses are growing better than they usually do. Their blooms open a little longer, petals turning brown slower than you expected. When you inspect the plant there isn't anything different about it, nothing magical at least. The soil around the base is wet, though you can assume that's from your watering can.

(In the dead of night Price drags a knife across the throat of the would be intruder testing your threshold. He grips their hair, careful to make sure the quickly draining corpse doesn't fall over your fence and onto your flowers. The blood arcs and sprays over the brick, the patter of it like rain against deep red rose petals and thick thorns. The gurgle of life chokes its way out of the lesser fae's throat. Price shushes them, before dragging their limp body back towards Winter.)

The besom over your door has dried out more quickly than you would like. Doing its job well, you suppose. You make a note to go out and grab supplies for a new one this weekend. You break the handle apart and toss the spent magic in your fire. You grab a jar of feathers from your bookshelf and knot a quick witches ladder to take the broom's place. You tuck a root bundle on the top of the doorjam for added warding.

(Another lackey of the Court's. This is getting tiring. This one is stupid enough to try the front door. Price wraps his hand over their mouth and thrusts his favorite knife into their back, once, twice, again, and again. He aims for vital organs, and tries to keep the bleeding to a minimum. He hates cleanup, and you're bound to notice if there's blood on your front step.)

Price leans against your garden wall, looking as pleased as ever to see you. You don't see a gift this time. Strange. You greet him all the same, and enjoy talking with him as you work. You clip a few roses and neatly slide your athame along the stem to slice the thorns off. They've gotten so sharp recently, you're almost considering selling them to some of the other witches in the area. You hold a de-thorned rose out to Price.

"What's this for?" His smile is as amused as his tone, he doesn't move to take it.

"For keeping me company." You tell him, although you're reluctant to put a price on that. You know it could be considered rude. It's a relief when Price takes it gingerly from your fingers.

"It's my pleasure," He tells you low, eyes heavy as he spins the rose between his fingers.

(You're his prize and he'll be damned if he lets anyone else get to you first.)

normally clerics use divine magic to work miracles amongst the living but i think kristen is going to use her mortality to work miracles amongst divinity

@trainto1925 coincidentally i have just arrived

The soft ones ARE choosing violence 🥰

day 263

tween hyperfixation X teen-adult special interest combo

Day 4: Conflict

In the name of my duty, I shall not falter.

tender as a bruise, sharper than a razor wrap her tentacles around me like she'll never let me go

klaus' backstory arc just ended heho and it was revealed he used to be the lover of the goddess of storms and pirates... she had basically kidnapped him and imprisoned him into murder and piracy for 20 years and needless to say it greatly damaged him on every level <3 its okay he's been able to be normal for once since the start of the campaign thanks to the party aka his new found family

get urself a surrogate middle-aged father who can speedrun a forbidden romance in one minute and then immediately go to confront the darkest version/a corrupted version of himself, as well as his toxic lover as she tortures him -w-)b

details and just the lines hehe

i don’t know if this is a hot take or not but the rr/b skew more neutral than evil to me

Aquamarine

AO3 link!

~~

Aquamarine, from the Latin and later Italian word for seawater, is also considered to be the "stone of courage and preparedness" and is believed to help maintain balance and order. Aquamarine is often used as a "good luck" stone, thought to bring feelings of peace, love, joy, and happiness.

~~~

"Everything will be alright."

Mario’s head snapped up. Surely he’d misheard her.

But Peach, meeting his gaze evenly, repeated herself: “Everything is going to be alright, Mario. This will pass, however painfully, and then we can rest, rebuild, and return to life as we know it. I have faith in that.”

Mario knew better. An all-out war raged around them, and they were both being pulled into the fray, in opposite directions. People were dying. They very well could die too. He knew she was scared. And he was almost certain that she knew he was scared, too. How could she say something so… so foolish, so false, now, of all times? It wasn’t like her.

Yet the resolve in her voice was unwavering, and determination burned red-hot in her eyes, and as quickly as he’d been confused, he understood. Acknowledging what might happen — what was probably going to happen, if either was permitting full honesty within themselves — was counterproductive. They could agonize over their circumstances, over the many outcomes, over the plenitude of things they wished they’d said and done if only they had known there might not be another opportunity. But where would that lead them? 

Falling into despair would only guarantee their demise. Hope would give them a chance. No matter how miniscule that chance or how false that hope, they had to take what they could get. She understood that, and now she was inviting Mario to join her in reclaiming what might be their last prospect of victory, or at least survival.

How often he wished he could be as strong as her.

But before he could accept that invitation and return her assurances, something in Peach’s expression flickered… and it was gone just as quickly, squashed down and set alight with an internal force that only a goddess could possibly possess. Her fingers fumbled with the brooch on her chest for a few seconds before she freed it from her dress and pressed it into Mario’s hand.

“This jewel has been in my family for at least a hundred and fifty years,” she said, guiding his right hand with her left so that the brooch sat exposed in his open palm. “My mother had entire outfits designed around it; it’s my sole reminder of her. So it is, without a doubt, my most valuable possession.” 

Mario regarded it as well as he could in the dull light. He recalled seeing it on past queens in the old paintings lining the castle’s entrance hallway, but it certainly didn’t show its age. The aquamarine gem matched her eyes in color and almost matched them in intensity, exploding into fragments of light whenever the sun caught it just so. He’d always thought it suited her.

Carefully, she folded his fingers over the brooch, resting her small hands gently over his. “I absolutely can’t lose it,” she added, quietly. “No matter what.”

He heard the intent all too clearly. He was being trusted to guard her most prized accessory. Therefore, he had an obligation to return to her.

I can't lose you, she said in all but words.

“I… I’ll keep it safe,” he promised, and the few seconds he pulled away from her to pocket the valuable were torturous. Taking her hands in his made everything feel right again, gave him the boldness he needed to match her resolve. “And once this is all over, I’ll give it right back. I’ll even have it polished so it looks good as new! You have my word, Princess.”

The cacophony outside grew louder. They were running out of time.

“Good. I’ll make all sorts of pastries as thanks,” Peach said, and her smile looked truly heartening for the first time since all of this nonsense began. “We’ll stuff ourselves on tiny cakes and endless tea and coffee and talk all day and all night. Or at least until Toadsworth comes to complain about having a visitor over so late and shoos you off.”

Mario couldn’t help but laugh. She was right; Toadsworth became more strict past ten or so at night, flustering himself over the princess’ wellbeing because a proper princess simply must remain well-rested, Your Highness! Maybe they could pull the “We just survived a catastrophic war” card, or at least get Toadette to cover for them so they could sneak out after hours (which would hardly be the first time).

Those thoughts slowed to a halt as Peach joined in, giggling quietly. The sound echoed off the barren walls hiding them away, delicate and pure; she blushed a sweet shade of pink, and her whole face glowed so achingly softly. It was as beautiful as it was haunting.

She truly believed what they were saying. And for a moment, Mario had believed it too.

I can’t lose you.

“Run,” Peach finally urged, a beacon of stability in the madness encroaching upon them. “Run, and hurry back to me. There’s still so many things I want to tell you, Mario, so don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

Mario’s breath caught in his throat.

I can’t lose you.

A rush of impulse surged through his blood, and he didn’t have the strength to fight it off.

“Ti amo,” he whispered, pulling himself into their conjoined hands. “Ti amo tantissimo, Principessa.” He bowed his head over her knuckles and screwed his eyes shut, trying and failing to control the trembling that overtook him — he wanted so desperately to remove their gloves, feel the imperfections of her skin against his, or kiss the silk separating them, kiss her, tighten his grip and run with her until all of the mayhem was far behind them or they were cut down where they stood. He didn’t care, so long as he didn’t have to leave her side.

“Mario…”

He stiffened.

“...What does that mean?”

For a fleeting moment, there was no war. Looking up didn’t reveal any fearsome resolve or half-suppressed fear or dread within her eyes. All he could see was affection, tinged dark with sadness.

This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He would ensure that or die trying.

“It means…” Squeezing her hands one final time, he forced himself to smile. “...I will see you soon.”

He let go before he could register how painful it was, and he turned and ran, until a dozen doors and countless layers of stone separated him from her, until he stepped into the fray and acrid smoke filled his lungs.

Pausing in the final doorway, he snaked his hand into his right pocket, his fingers caressing the aquamarine brooch tucked safely within.

Images of tiny cakes and golden hair and clear afternoons full of laughter and sunlight flickered through his mind. He let them pass, he took a breath, and then he charged ahead.

Most important thing in the world to me is that IMO in order to be ant man you gotta be fucked up in the head*

...

[Redacted for confidentiality reasons] But yeah one of my coworkers was threatened with a gun the other day. So I guess we ARE challenging things.

Lol angst ? about nukani , my super unserious gayporngacha game? Can't be that bad

(10k words later into a fic) Ooohh.ohhh it was a mistake. I should not have read this hahahahahahahgyrk *choking sounds*

   :[  Anonymous  asked : Does Nova like vector at least?  ]:

   |  I’ll answer that by letting you know that rn in my sketchbook there is a drawing of an alternate ending, where Vector does his big betrayal speech and rather then don uno reverse carding him nova just drops down behind him with MURDER in his eyes and the ‘we’ll be right back’ meme plays  |

also to go "wow this is just like in pentiment" about absolutely anything and/or "wow this is just like iphigenia crash land falls on the neon shell that was once her heart (a rave fable)" about absolutely anything further:

the Narratives within crash land falls where like, in the end iphigenia being Given the story of both "this is going to happen anyways" and "so why don't you see it as a noble sacrifice to accept." the situation happening to Create a story that she was killed, so her father must be tragic, and sympathetic. that iphigenia does take on that Narrative of taking on the Noble Willing Sacrifice, and it kills her, but she also would have been killed anyways, as everyone also knows. that we even get a bit of pentimentesque [other characters observe & assess things] like, the fresa girls as a chorus, and one at the end like yeah She Was No Saint, i saw everything, but being cut off by The News that's like yeah looks like iphigenia was killed, that seguing into her father saying yeah she was killed, god's will was done, She's A Saint now. seguing to the emcee who introduced the play, but that superceded by achilles, and that superceded with iphigenia's extasis monologue as the end of the play. that whether iphigenia's a saint or not, she dies. that [the whole play] tells us as much, like, this isn't a What If kind of retelling where she escapes her fate, this is a retelling examining itself like, she Will die because the story's preset, so what to do with this as the story that has to take her there, what to do with this as iphigenia who has to go there

that iphigenia takes on another narrative in addition to the one offered by like, violeta as guide and oracle telling her she has to die (As A Noble Sacrifice), that again (as per iphigenia in aulis being like uh hey daughter. let's go to aulis so you can uh marry achilles (it is to be sacrificed)) achilles is this bait, but it's only in the ending that there's any Story about being with achilles, and when iphigenia goes to the mercenary soldier who she knows will kill her, she's the one telling him what to tell her about where she's going and why, i want you to tell me achilles is waiting for me....and she still dies, because This Is The Story. as also applied to the reality, iphigenia as another dead and missing girl following & preceding many; any disappeared deaths when consumed as disposable & replaceable, not given part of any narrative about it. while also iphigenia only gets a chorus of fresa girls from there being crosses put on the factory wall with their names, with one girl even remarking like hey they spelled my name right for once. but at the same time they're also like, both mere Apparitions but also like standins for people who are simply alive. real [shades]esque kind of, i suppose, but like they're not Sanctified for dying either, they'll comment on iphigenia but not with any like, divine knowledge, just as this out of place rich girl. whether iphigenia's A Saint or Not A Saint, she's still dead either way. she wants to be a fresa girl, they maybe want to be her, but everyone's doomed anyways thanks to way larger forces and the Stories that have been told and will be told again

but there's also the moment right before the final section wherein, before she's having to say what she wants within the bounds of [she has to die], there's achilles asking "you still want me" and iphigenia answering with "i want everything" and her vision for, like, getting to be alive actually, i'm on the gulf where the sea is gray, and no one wants a piece of me....the whole inciting event here where iphigenia wants to evade her fate however she can, exiting the bounds of her life, the physical bounds and the family unit and walking away from the rank of status / class / wealth, trying for [have her body for herself] and what the body wants, the sensuous indulgences of (a rave fable), let's hear some more about the roman state like "we don't like the examination and challenge and upending of class and convention in a bacchanalia, so only do the official versions we permit;" the Threat of people's desires for themselves, when that's going to be counter to those in power who'd want these people to be resources at their disposal; the burden on the disempowered to suffer [the only way out is through] with the Additional pain & loss that has to be taken on in pursuit of their autonomy, while also of course suffering for the autonomy they lack, that restricted and controlled and mitigated versions of what you might want are deigned to be provided or permitted so that you have Something, but that everyone's actual undeniable personhood will always be spilling past those bounds, the potential power of transgressive pleasure when one's wellbeing and autonomous choices are counter to the power structures that have to constantly try to suppress and preclude this. achilles just as bait, doomed to die like iphigenia is also still doomed, sex was never going to save everyone and the [recognizing connection as these two parallel people / We're The Same] with your lover here is not going to save everyone but it still makes more things possible for them both; iphigenia does know what she wants, and gets some of it because she wants it, same with achilles in turn, while it can't save anyone from their fates still. but it can mean something even if it doesn't transcend, like even a fleeting night of insignificant dancing that doesn't change anything can mean something, and we all die, but that doesn't mean it's Nothing to be killed any more than it's Nothing to have your desires or choices one way or another to be wrung out of your life before you are

anyways, the stories. the Looking and Presenting here. achilles and iphigenia first encountering each other as images put together and presented by someone else for their own purposes. the presence of what's seen through film/camera/recording versus in person; the potential power relations and even violence in framing, presenting, and the intended looking and assessing. repeated language about eyes/looks that burn, while also that connection between iphigenia and achilles, and their finding the least room in what they do have of their lives for more of their own wants and selves and something genuine and not predetermined, is also connected to eyes and looking and being seen and light and burning. while they're also connected to the protection and possibility of night and darkness, getting to exist and be Without being lit up or seen; that with the power that's still in play, it's never like, well then you should have nothing / no reason to hide; the penultimate moment in the play with achilles being one that's in person and fades into darkness, rather than coming in from the light of a projection / video onscreen as the introduction....iphigenia needing to be guided through a crossroads to even get to achilles in person; violeta giving the Advice and Story and Tradition to pray to eleggua, as iphigenia does before getting to encounter achilles for real, who also doesn't get to break out of a role or a fate in full in any way, but their tragedies are like, pointing towards [autonomy, imagine it] in both the ways they manage to find a little bit of it for themselves, in no small part for simply recognizing each other as in the same boat here, and in the ways they still don't have it and still can't get it

and anyways it's also inevitably saying like, telling a story?? this Play is a told story!! looking? assessing? interpreting? you're doing that in the course of experiencing it! and it's really so fucking true.

the vast majority of the reason why i’ve abstained from getting a professional diagnosis is practical-- i already have a therapist (she just doesn’t like to diagnose, it’s not part of her practice but within her qualifications). it would fuck up my insurance in the long-term and complicate other systemic processes. i don’t need medication nor do i need accommodations so having a diagnosis wouldn’t really help me. it opens the floor to traumatic experiences, will likely cost a lot of money, and would again be trapped on my record for years upon years. 

but jesus christ, i wish i had half the confidence that other people can have with self-diagnosis. because even if i have my therapist basically stating that she thinks bpd explains several of my symptoms, and having said that the best way to explain my experiences to other people is by using bpd as a reference, i still cannot wholly convince myself that this is the issue. and i have researched for years and years so it isn’t that, i just. i need someone to look me in the eyes and tell me but if i get that, i get the rest of this too.