#i chose violence i know

[magicbringsmalice]

I just realized I don't post here that much, oopsies! :(

Well, have Nova's design in GL2!

Isn't she such a beauty?

Have a few fun facts about her! There will be a few spoilers.

-She's UnderWizard!Ink, obviously. And yes, she's a female.

-She keeps that small dagger in case she doesn't have broomie around to defend herself with.

-Like any other Ink AU, she does indeed have a poor memory. This results in her often forgetting her own things, or something someone told her a while ago. This is why she's good at keeping secrets-/hj

-Actually likes showing a bit of bone (skin??).

-Shorter than the rest of the UnderWizard cast. :,)

-Currently 34 years old. She was 21 when she first met Lotus (UnderMalice!Ink)

-She doesn't have magic, so she relies on her own physical strength and weapons to fight. She learned martial arts for a reason.

-Her broomie is thin and actually pretty easy to use. Compare it to a martial arts stick. Even a random person can easily pick it up.

-She loves whiskey and may or may not have created an addiction towards it.

-Pretty darn confident, if I do say so myself. She isn't gonna hesitate to call you out on something and/or be straight-forward about it.

-She loves to paint, she even taught her own children how to mix colors and make random shades, and how to paint landscapes. "Portraits are still a bit hard for them, baby steps-" , she says.

Not so fun facts about her. (TW! sexual assault, alcohol, suicide.)

-Nova was a painting brought to life by the same man that painted her, who knew dark magic. The man proceeded to sexually assault her until it got to a point Nova snapped. She poisoned him by forcing a vial of mercury down his throat.

-She struggles with depression, caused from her past trauma and the other events that happen as the story goes on. Hence explaining her addiction with whiskey.

-She's one of the few characters in the cast who is quite easy to break, unfortunately. Simply by reminding her she has no purpose there, just an extra created by a foul man. Or by threatening to kill her loved ones.

-The protector hates when someone touches her back or pulls her hair. Unless it's someone she trusts.

-Her fate in the Bad Ending ends with Nova taking her own life. (Once Lotus turns into stone, she sees no purpose anymore.)

[dalvs-wife]

all i'm saying is that one of them probably had to carry clover's body to that coffin in the castle

edit: read the first tag, thank you

[snuffydoo]

"Am I but a fool?"

[god-i-hope-so]

I wonder how many of Tommy haters ever experienced racism. My guess is a very small part of them because let me tell you one thing: you don't spend after work time with your racist coworker on your own. EVER. You don't share stories and jokes with them. EVER. You know the mental cost of spending time with a racist when you're a poc? No you don't. And you think Hen and Chim would choose to spend their free time with a racist instead of anyone else? Instead of going home? No one forced them, and there's no one else. They decided to have drinks together because Tommy changed and they want to support change.

You can call out his past behavior, absolutely, and I did it myself because it needs to be done. You know what needs to be done too? Acknowledge positive change. It's crucial to see and support change. Change is what makes the world better, little by little. But you wouldn't know if you're not a poc, right? How does it feel to be a white knight trying to get some "good ally" points from the poc you use for you hate campaign? All that for a fucking ship? Is it worth it? Do you have your ship canon now?

But please, educate me on racism and how Hen and Chim acted in S2, apparently forced (by who?) to spend their free time with Tommy.

[ratatatastic]

chirpy, chirpy~ like father like son i suppose

2024-25 Media Day | 9.18.24 (x)(x)

and absolutely delightful that colby kept up the inside joke yeah babey nothing like our beat and our cats opening up preseason hockey by being chirpy

[mackerel1522]

Achilles: Name one hero who was happy. You can't.

Patroclus: I can't.

Achilles: That's because they-

Horikoshi: Actually, I can name a few. For instance, I've got-

Achilles: No. No, you don't. Your characters have been thought wayyyy too much to actually feel happy right now.

Asagiri: Well, I can name-

Achilles: Oh NO. That's a biiiiiiiig NO. You surely not. Between all the death (even the fake ones) AND your very visible obsession on blowing up kids + giving every character trauma - That's a NO.

Patroclus:

Horikoshi:

Asagiri:

Achilles: AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT ONE

Achilles: HIS CHARACTERS WILL NEVER KNOW HAPPINESS AGAIN WITH ALL THE STUFF HE PUTS THEM THROUGH

Achilles: AND HIS MANGA ISN'T EVEN CLOSE TO THE END

Gege: *silently trying to espape*

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Time-traveller Harry to retail worker Tom:

[befuddled-calico-whump]

previous

cw: vaguely implied past noncon/abuse, past trauma

×~×~×

Tea was better than nothing. Jericho had been a little doubtful that Vic would have the ingredients for hot chocolate, so it wasn't too shocking to be proven right, but he was at least glad for the bags of plain green tea in the cupboard. Something warm for the kid to hold on to while they worked to process all of this.

"What's your name?" he asked as he passed him the mug. Technically, he already knew, but he didn't want to startle him with that information.

"Ander."

So he wasn't going by just Sahota yet. It made sense. He didn't seem nearly as cold or closed off.

"I'm Jericho," he said, and the kid nodded, staring at the mug in his hands like he was watching the color seep into the water. Jericho exhaled as calm as he could.

Where to start? Should he ask him about the injuries? Drop the bomb on him that he was temporally displaced? Or should he just hold off on that as long as he could? Man, and what about everybody else? All these cats were bound to come racing out of the bag at some point, and he didn't feel in any way ready for it.

Lucky for him, Ander spoke before he felt the need to fill the silence with something unnecessary.

"You work with Shepard?" He seemed almost relaxed at a glance, poised in the chair, cradling the mug. But as Jer looked at him, he could see the tension under the surface. Like he might throw the tea in his face and bolt for the door at any second.

"Yeah, kinda," he said. "Temporarily. Like I said, computers."

"Yeah."

"I take it you work with him too?"

Ander's eyes dropped. "Train," he said simply.

"Ah." Again, he didn't like the way he said it. He wanted to ask more questions, to slowly circle in on some kind of truth and get to the bottom of the mystery that was Sahota.

But before he could, the door to the kitchen swung open.

The rest of the team poured inside, filling the quiet room with whatever discussion they were having. The instant the first of them---Joy---crossed the threshold, Ander flinched back so violently he nearly sent the mug flying. He was on his feet, stumbling backwards, eyes darting around as if searching for somewhere to hide.

Internally, Jericho cursed himself for not bringing up the others sooner. He jumped to his feet, moving to put himself between Ander and the team, but the kid already had his back to the wall.

"It's okay," he called back to him, trying to keep his voice calm. "These are just my---"

"You never said there were more."

A quick glance back showed him the kid had found a knife. Oh boy...

"Ander--"

"Jer? What's---?"

"Who's that? New teammate?"

"Holy shit, is that--?"

The questions came all at once; pretty par for the course, but in the previously-quiet kitchen, with a scared kid behind him, the sound hit like a crashing wave. Then suddenly--

"Stop."

The command wasn't exactly shouted, but it was sharp enough to bring the overlapping voices to a standstill. Jericho glanced at the doorway it had come from, and wasn't surprised to see Sahota standing there. His expression was almost blank, almost unbothered, but there was a look in his eyes, a concerned tilt to his brows.

The others stepped aside, giving Sahota room to enter the kitchen. He could see Joy glancing from him to Ander. It felt like the room was holding its breath as their trainer stopped a few feet away from his younger self, both men staring at each other in disbelief.

Ander's fingers seemed to tighten around the hilt of the knife, his other hand going to his mouth, thumb on scar.

"You... Who are you?"

Sahota exhaled, lifting both hands as if to signal he meant no harm. "Ander..."

"No. This... Whatever this is, I'm fucking over it, okay? Leave me alone."

Sahota didn't retreat. "Those bruises." Something shifted in his voice, the tone becoming softer." "They aren't the worst of it, are they?"

The younger man glanced away, his voice quieting. "No."

"I remember."

Ander's arms dropped, the knife clattering to the ground. His legs seemed to give out, back sliding against the wall until he was sitting, knees tucked against his chest. Sahota followed him down, crouching across from him.

"How long?"

A pause. "Twelve years."

"Twelve... No."

"It's alright. You got stronger."

"I can't... I can't do that. I can't be here---"

"You don't need to. It's done." Sahota's hand fell onto the shoulder of his younger self, gentle. When they were side by side like this, his scars stood out all the sharper.

"He won't ever touch you again. I swear it."

He. Who? Jericho wondered, even though he already knew the answer. It sat souring in his gut.

"How can I help?" he asked, and Sahota stilled at the question, going silent for a moment.

"Clear a path. Make sure... Make sure Vic doesn't see him." He stood, fixing the room with a stony glare. "I mean it. Please."

The others nodded, and he pulled Ander to his feet.

"Davis, I need you to drive him into the city. Find him somewhere safe."

"I can't," the kid protested. "The chip--"

"He watches my frequency, not yours," Sahota assured him. "You'll be fine."

Joy was already leading the rest of the crew ahead to check the hallways, Sahota watching for her signal before scooping Ander into his arms and pressing forward, Jericho tailing behind.

He knew he should be relieved. Sahota knew what to do. He'd keep Ander safe, and the rest of them wouldn't have to worry about what happened to the kid. But what about Sahota? The man was clearly intent on staying back.

He won't ever touch you again.

Jericho grimaced. They both had to get out. To hell with the mission, whatever Vic had done to Sahota... whatever he was probably still doing, it had to stop.

They reached the exit, and Sahota moved to press Ander into his arms. Jericho took a step back.

"No."

"Davis, please."

There was a desperation creeping into his voice, and it hurt to hear, but Jer shook his head. "You need to take him."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Sahota's mouth tightened. He let out a sharp exhale. "Vic. He'd find us."

"Twelve years," Jericho echoed. "That's too long."

"It doesn't matter. One of us can get away."

"Both of you should. Sahota--"

"I'm already ruined," he snapped. Ander squeezed his eyes shut at the words, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"It's too late for me to leave this behind," he continued I'm a small voice "I'm not who I was. I can't undo what's happened. But I can stop it from happening to someone else."

"You don't have to--"

"Please."

Jericho clenched his jaw, gently pulling Ander into his arms. The kid clung to him, seemingly in a daze.

"Get as far away from here as you can," Sahota ordered him. "I'll cover for you if Vic asks questions."

Jericho could only nod, swallowing down everything he wanted to say, every plea for Sahota to just run. He wasn't going to make him do anything against his will.

Every step towards the truck felt like walking through concrete; all the weight of this new information dragging him down. The only thing that kept Jericho walking was the need to get Ander to safety. Where to, though?

He guessed he'd ask the kid. See if he had family nearby. And when he came back...

Jericho didn't want to hurt anyone.

Those bruises. They aren't the worst of it, are they?

But right now, it was looking like Vic Shepard would have to die.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[actual-changeling]

Every night, Crowley sleeps curled up in a bed dusty from years of disuse, slipping under the sheets and trying to preserve the touch of Aziraphale's scent in the air.

Every night, Crowley dreams.

It is always the same dream, scene by scene, word by word, and yet it never feels familiar or fails to pull him deeper into the depths of his mind.

When he opens his eyes to the shimmering reality of his subconscious, he is watching the sky break open, a thunderstorm of rain hailing down on London. The interior of the bookshop is comfortably warm, his sprawl across the armchair intentionally effortless, and the noise of darkening pavement and wet tyre tracks almost drowns out the light ding of the door opening.

The world narrows down to the glowing outline of his angel, dressed in white with eyes the blue of blooming magnolias, and Crowley is frozen no matter how desperately he tries to move.

Every time Aziraphale walks towards him, reaches for him, and it is then, with one of his palms pressed to his cheek and the other gripping his arm with a white-knuckled tremor, that Crowley is ripped from his stupor.

"You came back," he says, his voice echoing and his vision growing blurry.

"Of course I did," Aziraphale responds every single time. "I love you."

The kiss tastes like saltwater and rain, an ocean breeze tinged with bergamot, a cloud of dust picked up by a gust of wind in spring, inhaled with a smile and sunshine on his face. It tastes exactly like Aziraphale is supposed to taste; his mouth is soft, his body is moulding to the shape of Crowley's.

"I missed you," Crowley whispers with unmoving lips. "Don't leave me again."

When he tries to open his eyes, he can't, and the warmth of Aziraphale's body flows apart, dissipating into the darkness, dragging him out of the deep and towards the surface, towards dawn, quickly enough for his ears to pop and a scream to stay stuck in his throat. Every night, the dream ends the same way.

Oh, Crowley.

He wakes, gasping around shallow breaths, his heart beating fast enough to make him dizzy. Even with the sheets clenched in his fists and his body shooting upright, Aziraphale's words sound as clear as they did when he first spoke them into existence.

Nothing lasts forever.

Every morning, Crowley swears to himself to stop sleeping, to never close his eyes again, to leave the bookshop, and to run as far away as he can until he finally finds a place untouched by the angel.

Every night, he ascends the stairs, unlocks the bedroom door, and slips back beneath unmade sheets, chasing the taste of their kiss.

Pain, Crowley knows, is not what makes a nightmare, nor is it terror, fear, or heartbreak. It simply tells him that he had something, someone, worth losing, and even though the shape of his loss is the only thing he has left, it's better than not feeling him at all.

Nothing lasts forever, Aziraphale leaves him every single night, and they will never get the chance to try and outrun time.

[feelingtheaster99]

I’ve seen like only three minutes of Kipperlily Copperkettle and I already STRONGLY dislike her

[skrifores]

I have seen the point being made that you don’t have to be in a romantic relationship for some behaviour to constitute domestic violence. I’m seeing this said with regards to Our Flag Means Death and what some people perceive as domestic abuse on Ed’s part - that him not being romantically involved with Izzy shouldn’t mean behaviour between can’t be considered domestic abuse.

It is an excellent point that in many places, the definition of domestic abuse isn’t restricted to intimate partners! It is often widened to consider any violence, coercion and emotional harm taking place within a home environment. Under this definition, children can be victims of domestic abuse by their parents, it can occur between siblings, even roommates - especially with a live-in landlord situation. And of course, the Revenge as well as being a workplace is ultimately where the characters live.

I think it’s very clear that the show is a workplace comedy about pirates, but if you want to apply the definition of violence, coercion and emotional harm within a home environment to your reading to the show, that can be done.

Of course, I would be surprised if you genuinely view it that way and still made it as far as even watching Season 2, given the way what you consider to be domestic abuse in this fictional setting happens so very often with little to no moral consequence, and is often intended to be taken as a joke.

I mean. In the very first episode, the crew talk about killing Stede, and begin to plan for this, including lighting him on fire.

Jim threatens Lucius and actually physically locks him in a small wooden box in the second episode for what seems to be quite a long time.

I think in 4, Izzy pulls on Fang’s beard and it really upsets him. He also talks pretty openly about the intention to kill the Revenge crew, though I’ll let that go at this stage since he doesn’t really live there so much as being there for the purpose of murdering them and stealing their stuff. Still, poor Fang, that looked like it hurt.

While we’re on Izzy, he does also actively try to kill Stede by stabbing him, and he then he goes and does the olde worlde equivalent of calling the cops on him on the intention of having him executed, which seems pretty fucked up on the ‘violence’ part of our DA definition but also hits pretty hard on coercive control since he’s doing this to get Ed to behave differently.

He does prevent the Navy from executing Ed, which is nice, but he does point out that he regrets this, which, ouch, emotional harm. If we’re doing real world definitions, “I should’ve let the cops I called on you murder you” is the sort of thing that would make me feel pretty fucked up. And we all know what it means when someone tells you to watch your step.

But it’s not all about Izzy! (It’s really not, guys, there’s a whole TV show here!) Buttons bites Lucius - who ends up needing the whole finger gone! And he’s a visual artist!

Even my darling man Roach tries to eat the Swede, and I’ve gotta say, I don’t think they were on that island long enough to justify murder.

And who could forget Mary?? Wonderfully written character, love her, but, she does with malice aforethought attempt to kill her spouse in his sleep with a skewer. She was right to do it, in my opinion, but y’know, even without broadening the definition beyond partner relationships, murder of your spouse is pretty classic domestic abuse.

So, y’know, the point I’m getting at really is that if your definition of domestic abuse is violence and control wherein the perpetrator and victim share a significant aspect of their lives like living space - that’s a fine definition in real life. It is the one I use, in real life. But if you apply it to Our Flag Means Death, I really don’t understand how you stomached watching the first season or why you came back for more.

And if you only apply this definition with regards to Ed’s behaviour, but not the rest of the characters, I do wonder why that might be.

[sillylotrpolls]

Yes, these are your only choices.

Yes, these are all pairings with multiple fics on Archive of Our Own in the Lord of the Rings - All Media Types category.

Yes, I did deliberately exclude incest ships. You're welcome.

[yournowheregirl]

for this month’s @steddiemicrofic challenge

prompt: ‘cake’ | wc: 311 | rating: T | cw: hurt/no comfort 😈

They’ve had plenty of arguments before, but this one really takes the cake.

In comparison to this, all the other arguments were just squabbles. This time there’s yelling and huffing and words that he doesn’t really mean, but he’s saying them anyway because he’s just so fed up.

Not that he can even remembers what this fight was about in the first place. Neither of them really knows or cares at this point. They’re too busy furiously pointing out each other’s flaws like it’s a competition they’re both determined to win.

It’s not until Steve stomps out of their bedroom and the space is completely silent, that Eddie realizes what just happened. The words are suddenly registering in his brain and ringing in his ears, mocking him.

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

He hears a door slamming and his feet start to move on instinct, his brain now drowning in thoughts of fear. It’s true, he just said the most unspeakable things just now, but he can’t lose Steve. Not after all they’ve been through.

As fast as his feet can take him, Eddie runs out the door and hopes that he can catch Steve before he gets out of the driveway. He doesn’t even bother to put on shoes as he sprints down the stairs, already trying to think of what to say and how to fix this.

But it’s no use. Eddie arrives at the empty parking lot with his heart racing. He can’t even spot the Beemer in the distance anymore.

Steve really must’ve been in a hurry to get away from him.

He tries calling Robin, knowing for certain that’s where Steve went, but to no avail. After his fourth attempt, he grabs a bottle of whiskey, the bottle they saved for a special occasion, and picks up the telephone again.

“Wayne? I fucked up.”

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

This is your daily reminder that when the ✨REVOLUTION✨ happens, it will be started & led by the gods and not the demigods.

[winniebee]

i know there’s a big argument that the dsmp story should’ve ended with the disc finale but i personally find it so much more interesting that it didn’t. instead, it asked “what now?” the big bad dream, the foe everyone was able to unite against, is defeated, so now what do we, no longer united, do? what do we do in this world where there’s a constant power struggle? a world where characters still want things and are willing to do whatever it takes to get them? can we move on? and the answer was no because they didn’t actually solve the core of their problems by getting rid of the one guy they all hated. the narrative literally said you all have to sit here and deal with your actual problems now and so many characters said im gonna get worse actually

[livelovecaliforniadreams]