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tag?

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             i’m almost considering changing my online alias again. but hey, coletto here with another edition of “ dunk your half elf hero in the traaaaash ” kharlan edition. 

so. in case anyone remembers, on seperative i once had the idea of like -- what if martel still died but mithos thought his other companions were in on it. a 14 y/o boy hero who fixed the world like he should, played the good little soldier, and shoves his codependency issues onto summon spirits and tame monsters because ya’ll suck. 

in preparation for this au revival and rewrite, all my old ic posts will be deleted, my tags redone, and my follow list pruned. so i guess beware of this.

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                      " if i weren't a myth, a made up life                       would i have lived? or just existed poorly? " 

                              ( who knows? who cares? )                                               ★  ★  ★  ★

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The year is 2017. Where is my Martel body pillow?

The year is 2014. Where is my Martel body pillow?

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The year is 2016. Where is my Martel body pillow?

The year is 2014. Where is my Martel body pillow?

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The year is 2015. Where is my Martel body pillow?

The year is 2014. Where is my Martel body pillow?

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Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

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Shippers everywhere.

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"Your jokes are as bad as ever."

He was a better liar, but that fear gave him away. A forceful step was taken in retaliation, and part of him found hope that Yuan would take the sensible route of running away. He could get close enough to find a friends neck in his hands, and somewhere there was still that grumpy jerk who carried him on broad shoulders when it grew late. Draped a cape over him in the middle of the night when hid under a blanket and still shivering. Snuck him samples of her baking when she said to wait for dinner. Like a  ... brother. Family doesn't plot to murder each other, so somehow it all fit like puzzle pieces.

"I understood it, somehow. Was it revenge for the red ants? Or the time I glued your cape to your bed rest? Maybe even when I convinced sis that brussel sprouts were your favorite food? Sticking itching powder in your shoes? Or that time with the... jello..."

It ended with a brush of laughter that caked his throat like cheap cough syrup.

"If you were really innocent of her murder, then why did you defend him? Why are you backing away from me now?"

They were always the fortunate ones, and it was in those moments that the silent pleas to her grew silent. Always forgiving, and she wouldn't approve, but what else was there to do?

"If Kratos was going to betray, he would have said something to you, right? If you heard anything, you would have said? But then you turn around and defend him. What am I supposed to think?!"

Her blood was everywhere, he could have been in shock. Kratos could have been fooled like the rest of them, maybe he didn't have anything to do with what happened? There was too much history between the four -- three of them, but this was the truth, right? Betrayal never came from your enemies. It had to be because they wanted it.

"I'm not a mind reader -- so tell me! Would you or Kratos really take the public's interest over us? There were rumors--"

Maybe, in truth, his remaining friends became the scapegoat. If not them, then who? Humans? Society itself? His hands were shaking, and only anger prevented him from throwing up on Yuan's shoes. The ultimate irony.

Another step back. Slow. careful. Yuan couldn’t allow it to go unnoticed, but he couldn’t allow Mithos to sniff out the fear that was already burning brightly in his eyes. Yuan knew full well that Mithos was dangerous in his current state — broken and fractured, counting the meagre evidence holding against him to release an anger howling lowly in his heart.

Shifting, Yuan finally pinned his feet to the ground, determined to hold his place despite his heart and mind and body threatening to break under the weight of terror.

A gulp.

He raised his eyes to glare at the boy, pulling his shoulders back and straightening himself as though he wasn’t on the verge of dashing into the woods.

"Who says I want you dead?" He spat, a daring sneer flickering across his lips as his confidence began to sift threw his system in electrifying jolts of certainty, guarding his posture against the dying soul of the boy.

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(guess who’s back, back again)

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The year is 2014. Where is my Martel body pillow?

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                                          I may be O K on the o u t s i d e,             but have you ever wondered what happens,                                                                                          behind the mask that I { w e a r ? }

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Yᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ·ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴜᴅɢᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴғᴇʀɪᴏʀɪᴛʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇxᴇs.

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нoω αo γoυ  

                 【  ＰＲＯＴＥＣＴ 】

                                        тнσѕє уσυ       ԼƠƔЄ  

                               ωհεղ էհε 

       БłGGΞSТ ÐΛЛGΞЯ            тσ тнєм ιѕ  

                           Ｙ̜͇͕̊̑Ｏ̨̣́ͧ͛̇ͮＵ̷̛̠̞͉̻̹̹̘ͯ̇̇ͦͅＲ̳̦̭̳̺ͦ̇ͩ̔͗͂͌͆Ｓ̢̹̮̪̋ͪͨ͝Ｅ̴̨̞̬̞̲͖͈͋ͥͤ͑͑͋̕Ｌ̵̵͚̫̤͕̩̄͛ͫͨ̆Ｆ̘̬͈͓̳̀̿̃̍ 

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Noвody lιĸeѕ yoυ               Everyoɴe leғт yoυ                          Tнey’re αll oυт wιтнoυт yoυ                                                                                   Hαvιɴɢ                                                                                                Fυɴ