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"Speaking of grown men."

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Fanfic writers of dead fandoms, rarepairs, forgotten movies and long-cancelled shows be like:

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What would your oc be like without trauma?

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Fanfic writers of dead fandoms, rarepairs, forgotten movies and long-cancelled shows be like:

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Prompt #1215

"I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just want you to understand."

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“We need more complex and nuanced characters”

Y’all can’t even handle a character doing the wrong thing in an emotionally and/or morally complex scenario without writing them off as 100% irredeemable villain or 100% innocent victim

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guys stop praying for my grandpa hes too strong idk what the official "end" for halo will be, but i kinda dont want chief to go out in a blaze of glory, i seen him die too many times in the games just before respawning

i want the guy (red + blue team tbh) to be able to retire, good god, like one of those retired race horses or greyhounds

anyway, i imagine that without his helmet and in plain clothes, john would get tony hawk'd a lot, despite his size

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Love that supervillains repeatedly refer to Metropolis as "Superman's precious Metropolis." Superman's saved the whole planet multiple times, and he displays like... a normal and expected amount of urgency about it, but if Metropolis specifically is threatened, Superman's like, "Oh, okay, I get it, you have beef with me, personally."

Like bro, they're right! That is your precious Metropolis!

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no one can break the bond between a girl and a show from the 2000s that have 40 minute episodes and 20 episode seasons

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People have been asking me if we'd move to a newer Halo game for CRASH. Probably not. Not because I dislike the newer Halo games -absolutely not. CRASH was made from the ground up to be made in Halo 3. This wasn't just nostalgia-bait. There's a point to it. CRASH is deliberately nostalgic, yes, but my intention is to make a story that is about moving on from the past -how do we do it well? And what happens to us (and perhaps more importantly, to those we love) if/when we fail to do so? We can't simply run from the past. Or pretend it didn't happen. Nor can we stay there and live in it forever. Sometimes the best way forward ...is forward.

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The Arbiter and The Blessed One

Prompt: Long Way Home for @flashfictionfridayofficial

Fandom: Halo TV Series (Silver Timeline)

Summary: The Arbiter and Makee get their orders.

Notes: Set between Halo Season 1 and 2. Spoilers for both.

Notes Addendum: I really should have been doing my job today instead of this, lol!

The audience chamber was nearly empty now.

Not long ago the chamber was full to the brim with the Covenant devout witnessing the coronation of the new Hierarchs: High Prophet of Solemnity, High Prophet of Vindication, and High Prophet of Triumph. Now those three sat in Contemplation and Judgment. They floated above the ceremonial dais, diadem’s gleaming and finely woven robes dripping from their gravity thrones as they gazed down at their supplicants. 

Two figures knelt at the foot of the stairs. 

The first, a Sangheili of imposing stature, were he not on one knee and bowed forward. The Arbiter, newly appointed, resplendent in the silver armor of his people’s Shame, of his Redemption. Once he was Var ‘Gatanai, Supreme Commander of the First Fleet of Solemn Accord. Before failure marked him as deeply as a brand burned into his chest.

His crime?

He allowed humans to set foot upon Raas Kkhotskha, holiest of holy ground. He allowed the Demon and its ilk to murder the High Prophets of Mercy, Truth, and Regret. He allowed the Sacred Stones to be taken and the Great Journey to be delayed.

Never mind the deceased Hierarchs departed High Charity without consulting him. Never mind they took only a small guard. Never mind he had not known the location of Raas Kkhotskha to protect the fabled holy planet, until after it was defiled.

The First Fleet of Solemn Accord was charged with the protection of High Charity and the Hierarchs. As its Supreme Commander, Var ‘Gatanai failed his duty. He deserved death. The mantle of The Arbiter would allow him to regain Honor in his death.

The second figure was smaller, on both knees with hands clasped in front of her. Her back was straight but her head bowed low. The Blessed One. A joke of the Gods sent to test the faith, according to the departed High Prophet of Mercy. None could deny the artifacts of the Gods reacted to her, and so her humanity had been overlooked. Until now.

Her crime?

She alone survived the massacre perpetrated by the Demon on Raas Kkhotskha. A human surviving the bloody defilement of the humans.

They interrogated Makee once she returned to High Charity, but her story never wavered. She died. Killed by a lesser demon. Her body left alongside Mercy, who cared for her since her conversion to The Covenant. Then an Oracle of the Gods appeared. It revived her and offered her a vision of the Sacred Ring.

The Time of the Great Journey is Nigh.

Those were the words the Oracle spoke, Makee informed Vice Ministers in the Hall of Veracity. They attempted to trick her, make her change her way of telling events. She was steadfast. She knew their ways. She clutched her hands, wept, and trembled while reminding them the dearly lamented High Prophet Mercy himself named her The Blessed One.

They believed her lie.

This Great Journey You Seek is a Lie.

Those words would have led to her execution for heresy. Even if they were the ones the Oracle actually spoke.

“Here we have our Arbiter and Blessed One,” said High Prophet of Vindication. “The condemned and the condoned.”

“We have need of you both,” said High Prophet of Solemnity.

“Command me,” The Arbiter replied, bowing his head lower and pounding a fist against his breast.

“Both of you are charged with reclaiming the Sacred Stones,” said High Prophet of Triumph. “Prove yourselves worthy of the honors we bestowed.”

Makee looked up through her eyelashes as one hand tightened over the other. John would not understand. It wasn’t simply Covenant or human. Both contained the same evil. She had seen it firsthand. Neither deserved to win. 

The universe would be better to be cleansed of them all. Her vision from the Oracle had been a warning, but also shown how it could be done. The Sacred Ring was meant to be her resting place, but it was not the beginning of a Great Journey. It was the end.

The end of pain. The end of degradation. The end of evil.

Makee bent her back to the Hierarchs for the last time as she spoke, “It begins with the destruction of Sanctuary.”

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this post was the catalyst for this comic, and i was also thinking of a desi song lyric (tere dil ke sheher mein ghar mera ho gaya / in the city of your heart, my home is made) and just... hmmm.... leaving your mark.... making a house into a home..... when the marks a child inevitably leaves behind (messes, scribbles, and in this case stickers) eventually fade away as they grow older and you're left with the memories stored in what hasn't been erased....

im not verbalizing it very well but catch my drift?

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hey so i went to Cares About You So So Much Island and built a little house and lived there forever and ever until all the stars burned out and the universe went dark (and still i remained)

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These are all super angsty wow don’t know what’s up with me lately.

One-Way Trip, for anyone who hasn’t been traumatized yet.