#nia is also there

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Time for another obscure character comparison post! This time through excerpts from each story.

Connecting thread: a sad, traumatized man who just wants to go home to his family and thinks he’s a coward but is just out there doing insanely brave things like rescuing girls from crazy people who are trying to kill them.

           Suddenly, Slarb’s growl was cut short. Trembling, Leeli opened her eyes and saw the Fang’s claws clutching desperately at an arm locked tight around his throat.            She couldn’t see the person’s face, only a tuft of white hair sticking up from behind Slarb’s shoulder- but the arm around Slarb’s throat had a dirty knitted sock pulled up to the elbow.            Slarb’s black eyes wheeled in their sockets as he scratched and dug into the socked arm, but it did no good. The arm held firm. Slarb staggered backward and turned away from Leeli, revealing lanky Peet the Sock Man, who was either brave enough or foolish enough (and maybe both) to attack a Fang barehanded, or sock-handed, as it turned out.            Peet’s eyes were squeezed shut as he hung on desperately to the thrashing Fang. Slarb’s teeth were bared and oozing with yellowish venom, but his movements were slowing down.            Leeli began to hope that just maybe she would live to see her family and Nugget again. Peet was grunting, straining to keep his grip on the twisting beast; though blood was soaking the sock where Slarb’s claws were digging into Peet’s forearm, he showed no sign of pain.            Slarb spun around, so fast that Peet’s feet flew out behind him. The Fang lurched this way and that, his tail whipping the underbrush. Finally he fell first to one knee and then to the ground, unconscious.            Peet lay on top of Slarb, gasping for air. After a moment, he loosened his grip and carefully slid his arm out from under the creature’s neck. When Peet saw Leeli, he relaxed and stood up, brushing himself off as if embarrassed Leeli was still crouched down in the brush at the edge of the trees, looking warily at her rescuer.            “Thank you,” she said timidly. “That was very brave.”

-The Wingfeather Saga book one: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness by Andrew Peterson (tv show based on the book coming December 2nd!)

 *

           “Well how about it?” inquired Dustfinger, taking a step back. “Do you dare come in here with me, or would you rather go on hitting little girls?”            Basta stood there motionless, like a child whose ears have been suddenly and unexpectedly boxed. Then he seized Meggie’s arm and dragged her toward him. She felt something cold on her throat. She didn’t have to see it to know what it was. Her mother screamed and pulled at Dustfinger’s hand but he only held it higher in the air. “I knew it!” he said. “What a coward you are, Basta! You’d rather put a knife to a child’s throat than venture in here. Of course if Flatnose were here to back you up, too, with his broad back and his great fat fists- but he isn’t. Come along, you’re the one with the knife! I’ve got nothing but my hands, and you know how I hate to misuse them for fighting.”            Meggie felt Basta’s grip relax. The blade was no longer pressing into her skin. She swallowed and put a hand to her throat. She almost expected to feel warm blood, but there was none. Basta pushed her away so hard that she stumbled and fell on the damp, cold floor. Then he put his hand into his pants pocket and brought out a bunch of keys. He was panting with rage like a man who had run too far and too fast. Fingers trembling, he put the key into the lock of the cell. Dustfinger watched him, his face impassive. He gestured to Meggie’s mother to step back from the grating and retreated himself, nimble as a dancer. You couldn’t tell from his scarred face whether he was afraid or not, but the scars looked darker than usual.            “What’s that for?” he said, when Basta came into the cell and held out his knife. “You might as well put it away. If you kill me you’ll spoil Capricorn’s fun. He won’t forgive you for that in a hurry.”            Yes he was afraid. Meggie could hear it in his voice. The words were spilling out of his mouth a little too fast.            “Who said anything about killing?” growled Basta as he closed the cell door behind him.            Dustfinger retreated as far as the stone coffin. “Am you were thinking of adding a few more decorations to my face?” he was almost whispering. There was something else in his voice now- hatred, scorn, rage. “Don’t expect it to be so easy this time,” he said softly. “I’ve learned a few useful tricks since then.”

…

           “I’ll cut your filthy fingers off if you try to touch me!” yelled Basta, his face red with rage. “Every one of them, and your tongue into the bargain.” He lunged with the knife again, cutting through the air with the bright blade, but Dustfinger avoided it. He was leaping around Basta faster and faster, ducking, retreating, advancing, but suddenly he found that his fearless dance had trapped him. He had only the bare wall behind him now, and the grating cutting off his retreat to the right- and Basta was coming straight at him.            At that moment Meggie’s mother raised her hand. The stone hit Basta on the head. Astonished, he spun around, looked at her as if trying to remember who she was, and put his hand to his bleeding face. She never knew how Dustfinger did it, but suddenly he had Basta’s knife in his hand. Basta was staring at its familiar blade in amazement, as if he couldn’t grasp the fact that the faithless thing was pointing at his own chest.

-Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke

 *

Tillman had knocked the white ironstone bowl off his tray, shattering it on the tile next to him. “I told you!” he yelled, swinging his feet off the bed, and kicked at the shards to make room to stand. “I said they were here!”

Belle wasn’t sure whether the bowl being sent to the floor was purposeful or an accident, but it had to be cleared up either way, before he cut his feet on it. “Stay right where you are,” she said. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t take orders from your kind,” Tillman said, fixing her with that severe look again.

Turning back to Captain Gold, she sighed, giving him a smile. “I’ll be right back - I’m going to clean up before he and Gardner can start something over it.”

Belle took the tray from the end of the bed and sat it on the floor so that she could place the broken pieces on it. Tillman squatted down next to her, apparently having snapped out of it and deciding to help. “Thank you,” she said. “Be careful, don’t cut yourself.” At least ironstone didn’t shatter to virtual sand as some china did. She concentrated on picking up the small fragments he’d scattered, and he reached for a larger piece.

Before she knew it, he’d hauled her to her feet, holding her against him with an arm wrapped in an iron grip around her chest and upper arms, pressing the point of the ironstone shard to her neck.

Belle pulled at his forearm on instinct. “Lieutenant Tillman!” she cried, and she heard running footsteps. “Lieutenant Tillman, it’s all right, it’s Nurse French! You know me!”

“I know damn well what you are, and you’re no nurse,” he snarled near her ear.

Rummond’s heart pounded so hard against his ribs that his breastbone ached. He’d been watching Belle; it was difficult to take his eyes off of her. Tillman moved so fast, though, he hadn’t even time to get a word out before she’d been grabbed up in a hostage hold.

He knew he couldn’t have gotten across the aisle quickly enough, but as soon as Tillman turned and Rummond was out of the Lieutenant’s line of sight, he slipped from the far side of his bunk and crossed to the other side of the ward, where he could move more quickly without being seen.

“Crazy bugger thinks she’s a German,” Lieutenant Booth snorted as his bunkmate snuck away.

Belle vaguely knew as more and more people gathered. Other nurses and orderlies dared get closest, their voices muddled as they all tried to talk to Tillman, each thinking they could talk sense into him. Her ears hummed and she felt lightheaded and too hot, and she knew it was adrenaline, but that didn’t help to clear her whirling thoughts. She had been in dangerous situations since becoming a nurse, but this was the first to threaten her so directly, and terror grew in the pit of her stomach.

“Lieutenant Michael Tillman! Let her go!” Dr. Whale barked above the other voices, and Belle zeroed in on him. Dr. Hopper stood next to him, face blanched, and Ruby stood on the other side. Graham stood beside Dr. Hopper, his hands raised, and Belle couldn’t hear what he said over everyone else, but he looked frightened. Well, at least she wasn’t overreacting to her situation, then.

Some of the patients were hovering at mid-range, most keeping a few feet back from the staff, and she saw worry in their faces, as well. Dr. Glass watched from the ward doors with an almost neutral expression. She didn’t see Captain Gold, though. She should have been able to see him on his bed when she shifted her eyes that way, but he was gone. If she could only see him, see the look on his face, she thought she might be better able to gauge just what kind of trouble she was in. She felt as if his face would give her the truth.

Jefferson whispered, “What are you doing?” as Rummond passed. Rummond swatted a hand in his direction, giving him a look sharp enough to quiet him immediately in return for the question.

He crept between the beds at the far end of the room and made himself as small and low as he could as he moved back up the other aisle. Less than half the length of the room away. He slowed himself to silence the pat of his bare footsteps.

“No one would believe me! And look where we are now!” Tillman ranted, shaking her.

“Lieutenant,” Belle said, praying she could calm him long enough for his delusion to break, or for something to stop him. “I know it feels real, but I promise you-”

“Shut up!” he snapped, shaking her again.

Belle clenched her eyes shut, feeling the piece of ironstone move on her skin. When she opened them again, Tillman had turned enough that she caught movement in the reflection of the window beside his bed. She saw just enough to tell her who it was. Captain Gold.

She could have sobbed, though whether in relief that someone was making an effort to do something or in fear for him, she couldn’t be sure. Tillman was easily fifty pounds heavier than Captain Gold, and if he turned the shard on the other man…

“It’s all right,” she continued, hoping to distract Lieutenant Tillman and keep him from noticing the reflection. It was right in front of him - he only needed to look that way to see. “If you’ll just let me go, we can finish cleaning up the bowl, and perhaps you can talk with Dr. Hopper? I’m sure he-”

“Shut your mouth!” he yelled right behind her ear, digging the shard harder against her neck, and she choked back a cry when she felt the sharp point puncture her skin.

Tillman stood against the side of his bunk, and Rummond could see there was no way to get between. He would have to go over top, and that would mean a very narrow moment during which he could do anything before Tillman knew he was there.

His lungs burned when he held his breath to cut off that sound, as well, and he stepped between Tillman’s bed and the one to the left of it. With his knees at the edge of the mattress, he leaned, putting all of his weight on his good foot, and lunged. He had his hands on Tillman before the springs squeaked, wrenching the hand holding the piece of broken ironstone to force it as far away from Nurse French’s skin as he could.

Belle felt herself yanked backward, and for a second she feared Tillman had done it, slit her throat. But then she heard, “Drop it, boy. Drop the weapon,” in a low voice, somehow dispassionate and chilling at once, almost as near her ear as it was to Tillman’s, and it made her skin crawl. It took a very long beat of her heart to recognize that Captain Gold had gotten to them.

Rummond snaked his hand in behind Tillman’s arm across Nurse French’s chest, wrapping his hand around the Lieutenant’s wrist from the inside with a vice grip. With a sudden push stronger than the pulling hold Tillman had on her, Rummond gave her room to get away, and she took it.

When the grip on her loosened, Belle dropped away, hitting her knees hard enough to bruise, her hands flying to her neck. Graham rushed in to get her, pulling her up and away, and she was surrounded by he, Ruby, and Dr. Hopper as they saw blood and tried to check her. She turned among their hands, trying to see what happened between Captain Gold and Lieutenant Tillman.

Tillman twisted his hand, trying to cut his attacker’s arm, but found himself held at the wrong angle to accomplish it. “I won’t be held prisoner again!” he shouted, fighting. “I’ll kill myself first!”

“Graham, help him!” Belle pled, pushing his hand away from her neck and urging him toward the patients who were still the center of spectation.

The adrenaline in Rummond’s system was waning, and he wasn’t strong enough to hold onto Tillman without its help. He felt his muscles beginning to tremble. To his relief, Humbert knelt one knee on the mattress and Gardner overshadowed them on the window side, each taking one of the Lieutenant’s arms, and he could let go. He scrambled backward off the bunk, just keeping his footing as he put the piece of furniture between himself and Tillman.

-Better to Face the Bullets by @ishtarelisheba

how did it ever get into their heads that they’re cowards

[fukutomichi]

Ismael Cruz Córdova as Arondir S2.E3 ∙ The Eagle and the Sceptre / S2.E4 ∙ Eldest

[ekingstonart]

for an anonymous benefactor who asked for super-soft supercorp: do you guys ever think about dying the moments of tenderness Kara and Lena get to share now that canon can no longer get in the way?

After this illustration by Joe Bowler

i’ve opened up commissions again, please check my pinned post for more information!

[gaiuskamilah]

blades 2 behind-the-scenes info from emi's twitter

[ritoryb]

THE TOMORROW WITH YOU

[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

I’ll never mentally recover from them

[gundamcalibarney]

im gonna be real with u chief idk how this happened either but anyways have fun looking at my thomas the tankin danking dinosaur au 🧚‍♂️

[karaspal]

a super x a journalist ships, you will always be famous!

[ultfreakme]

I got desperate for Jay content and ended up reading the damijon fics with Jay, and like they clearly want Jay to be the bad guy. But they somehow write him as being even cooler than in canon! A lot of fics have him riding a motorbike(love how damijon shippers and not have just decided he's a motorbike guy), he's the leader of The Revolutionaries now apparently, and most of these fics have Jon cheating on Jay physically, emotionally, or both ways so now I'm just mad at Jon.

Like, slay King, if Jon can't appreciate all that it's his loss. I am having an fun time if i just focus on the Jay of it all like who is this rizz-filled man who is apparently a threat to the Justice League???????? Actual Jay stans make him a bit of a loser

[taiturner]

  ━ Leila Sales, "This Song Will Save Your Life"

[retrobr]

WOW WHAT'S THIS?? I MADE SOMETHING

My teeny-tiny contribution to the sportarobbie part of the fandom 🥹

[coredrill]

new art by hiroyuki imaishi from the booklet released with lagann-hen’s 15th anniversary theater showings!!

[fazedlight]

Reflection (Kara reveals herself to Nia)

It felt like looking in a mirror.

When the frantic brunette stepped into the elevator, chattering distractedly at a mile a minute, Kara had to bite back a laugh. The nerves and the coffee and the horror of realizing that the new reporter had stepped into an elevator with the Kara Danvers brought some amusement to Kara. But Kara soon learned that there were other similarities - a passion for social justice, a reluctance to make waves - and Kara felt some kinship with her.

Nia’s average body temperature was 94F. Kara knew what it was like to hide.

Kara didn’t know that seeing her reflection would happen almost simultaneously with her own world falling apart. It wasn’t just the turmoil of anti-alien bigotry that felt like a kick in the gut. She was a stranger in Alex’s eyes - untrustworthy and suspect, drawing apprehension from the agent’s eyes whenever she wore the red and blue. Her strongest defender, the sister who protected her and stood by her… was gone.

The only other person she could be herself with - even if she did still have to hide - was busy with work. And when Lena wasn’t busy with work, she was busy with James. It killed Kara to watch them curl up together on the rare game night when Lena came by.

Nia’s hometown of Parthas was a breath of fresh air, but even that wouldn’t last long. In a town where naltorians and humans lived in harmony for ages - a town where Nia’s transness didn’t warrant commentary either - Kara found herself feeling hopeful. Until Liberty’s men came to destroy it, until she had to heatvision a gun out of her sister’s hand and received distrust in return.

The drive back home was a long one.

Her heart broke as Nia mourned the death of her mother, the destruction of her town, the you’re not even a real woman that her sister had thrown so callously in her direction. What seemed like simple similarities, like first-day jitters or an instinct for journalism, shifted to something stinging and sharp. Their stories weren’t the same - Nia had grown up in peace, Kara had grown up in turmoil - but they were both adrift in an unwelcoming world, without the people they cared about most to help them.

Kara pulled her car over.

It was Alex’s and Lena’s faces that flickered in her mind as she stepped out. The sister she had lost, the would-be lover that was in the arms of someone else, with no one left she could feel open with. She told herself - and Nia - that it was a logical decision to come out to Nia, because Nia wouldn’t be in danger, because she was a fledgling hero in need of mentorship.

As Kara turned and whipped off her glasses, as she temporarily took to the skies, she knew that this wasn’t entirely about logic. She was wrapped up in the wishes for her childhood, in the mourning of her present. If she couldn’t help herself, she could help someone who echoed her.

“I just need you to know now that you’re not alone,” she said when she landed. I just need to know that I’m not the only one.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Sister, Sister: After the End

When Eliza invites the entire family to Midvale over Easter weekend, none of them offer a single squeak of protest. It's been a long few weeks of working on their own endeavors, with only infrequent, hectic teamups between them.

It's nice, Lena decides after dinner the first night. The warmth, the easy familiarity that sinks in as though it never left. But even so, she's grateful for a spare moment to snag a blanket and go out to the dunes, where waves crash steadily against the quiet of darkness.

She spreads the blanket out and lays back, folding her hands over her ribcage. Her magic fills her these days, and she can feel the power of the ocean tugging at her, as though inviting her to join its current. She can also feel the shifting energy of the sand beneath the blanket, and the sway of the reeds that obscure her from the view of the house.

She's not too difficult to find though, as footsteps whisper through the sand towards her. Lena closes her eyes, biting the smidge of irritation that creeps up on her unexpectedly.

"I'm fine," she issues pre-emptively. Kara settles down on the blanket next to her.

"Didn't think you weren't."

Lena's eyes snap open as her head whips towards Nia's voice. Not Kara.

She huffs a laugh. "Sorry," she offers readily. "Thought you were someone else."

"Mhmm," Nia returns. "Considering she's the only one able to get hold of you these days."

Lena grimaces. "I know, I'm sorry--"

"Me too," Nia assures her of no hard feelings. "I could have done more to make it happen. It's just been..."

"Busy."

"Yeah. It's a little crazy to think about, you know? I'm doing more as Dreamer for the foundation than I am as a crime fighter or whatever. And you're back to being on top--"

Lena scoffs a laugh that turns into a giggle as she turns her head to look at Nia. It takes a moment to click.

"Oh--! Lena! You know that's not what I meant!"

The light smack to Lena's ribcage only earns a throatier laugh. Nia joins in with a giggle of her own, and they laugh for a long moment before calming.

"I know what you mean," Lena concedes after a heavy sigh, returning to the moment. "The foundation is everything I hoped it would be, but--"

"It's different." Nia turns her head, and Lena echoes the movement to meet her gaze.

She nods. "Yeah. As much as I don't miss the entire world being in peril..."

"You miss how it was." Nia's voice is quiet. "Even if it's better now."

"Yeah."

They stare up at the stars for a long quiet moment. The sky is clear tonight, and the Milky Way spreads out before them in a wide, untouchable ribbon. A wave of nostalgia overwhelms Lena, and not just for the good old days. Sudden tears burn at her eyes.

"I miss my mom," she whispers.

Nia doesn't turn, but pats across Lena's hip until Lena reaches down to clasp the questing hand.

"Me too," Nia returns softly. Her next words curl with a gentle smile. "They'd be so proud of us though."

Lena chokes out a bit of a chuckle, which mostly sounds like she's being strangled. "Yeah." She squeezes Nia's hand. "She would have really liked you."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding?!" Nia's voice lifts. "My mom would have gushed over you! Especially now with the whole earthy, witchy vibe you have going on these days. She'd love that."

Lena grins. "Could you imagine if they'd had the chance to meet?"

"Oh god." Nia covers her eyes with her free hand. "Inseparable. No embarassing childhood memory would be safe..."

Lena laughs, truly, as though she actually had memories with her mother to be embarassed by. In this fictional world they've created, she would.

"Hey." Lena catches Nia's gaze, and offers a wide smile. "I'm proud of you too."

Nia's lips pinch tight, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. All she can manage is a trembling nod, and a firm squeeze on Lena's fingers to reciprocate the sentiment.

Neither of them keeps track of how long they stay out there on the shallow dunes. They simply lay there, hands clasped, as the galaxy slowly swirls above them.

[mewkwota]

I was imagining something like a Smash Reunion Party where everyone's families were also invited, but regardless of the scenario I can see Mario staying in touch with fellow Fighters and celebrating important moments with them. Such is the way of Mr. Nintendo. :>

[punkeropercyjackson]

That goth/punk male character you wanted to fix?Yeah sorry,he's t4t married to his autistic girl love interest now.I think you scared him off with all the commets about his waist and obsession with turning him a poser😬