#the revenant was so cool though

[squirrellypoo]

Feeling cute, might delete later

(IG source)

[fandom-geek]

vaguely fascinated by osana sov's naming choices. she chose for her daughter a name that can mean "bitter (strength)" or "lady" in two ancient languages (hebrew and aramaic) and for her son a name that means "old friend" in another ancient language (old english)

like every other golden age character has a name that's pretty normal by our standards, which tbh includes mara, then osana just names her other kid uldwyn. then again, even osana's name is either a variant of the hebrew hosanna or after an obscure and possibly fictitious old english princess-saint whose name means something along the lines of "godly solitude", so i suppose mara might be considered the odd one out

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 12)

Masterpost

“Ya, I have questions,” Jason confirmed, trying not to shift awkwardly in his seat. “I read the slideshow but I don’t seem to fit in either liminals or ghosts, and I have some issues that I think would have been mentioned if they were common?”

“Alright, what are they?” Danny asked tilting his head a little. 

“Well, it’s been better since meeting you, and I know increased aggression was one of the thing mentioned but mine isn’t like Damian’s, or even yours I think. We’ve been calling it Pit Madness. I’ve gotten better at managing it but especially when I got back it was really bad. I… killed a ton of people and I still have a lot of bloodlust that no one is comfortable with.”

“That is unusual, especially directed towards humans. Aside from revenge against whoever killed them dead usually don’t care very much about the living,” Danny said curiously, considering Jason. 

“And I do read as- as dead?” Jason asked, he had been worried about that.

“Well you’re obviously not Dead dead,” Danny said rolling his eyes before he reached across the table. “Here, with touch I can figure out a bit more.” He said and Jason hesitated for a moment before resting his hand in Danny’s.

A cool feeling quickly washed up his arm and over his chest like intangible water. Danny tilted his head to the other side, his brows coming together slowly as he gazed into the middle distance and considered what he was feeling. He let out a hiss and some sort of chitter that couldn’t come from a human throat, then clicked his tongue and the cool feeling dissipated, sinking under Jason’s skin and cooling heat he hadn’t been aware of feeling. 

“Okay, ya that’s weird,” Danny admitted and Jason’s heart dropped. “Best I can equate it to is, like a bone that healed wrong,” Danny said thoughtfully. “You did die before?” He asked, Jason nodded mutely. “Okay, I won’t ask why or how. But best I can tell your soul was shoved back into your body and not given time to get settled back in it’s proper position before whatever was done to bind it in place. So you’re alive but with some.. Spiritual nerve and brain damage. Would you be comfortable telling me how you were resurrected?”

“Well, I resurrected myself apparently. I don’t really remember it but apparently about six months after my death I dug myself out of my grave. Before I could get anywhere the League of Shadows found me and dunked me in the Lazarus pit which is this glowing green stuff that heals the dying and kills the healthy. I don’t remember any of it, it was almost a year before I recovered enough to be myself at all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “My guess would be at first you came back as a revenant, which is basically when a ghost possesses their own corpse to get revenge, not truly a living being. But then this Lazarus pit resurrected your body and your soul got stuck in your living body again without being prepared or intending for that to happen. 

“That’s what I’m guessing happened but I can’t be sure, and I’m not a healer so I don’t really know what to do about it. I’m sure my ghost doctor Frostbite would be happy to take a look at you though! Looks like we’ll be making an appointment for you too,” He joked making Jason chuckle nervously. 

“Well that’s.. Totally fucked up,” Jason said and Danny nodded.

“Ya, dying is basically always fucked up, coming back Specifically for revenge and then getting stuck here long after that’s a motivating factor is messy. I mean, for a human that would be fine, but for people like us,” He gestured between the two of them. “Obsessions are everything so that’s hard. You’ve been cultivating more healthy obsessions I know but you’ll never be the same,” Danny said, and Jason nodded.

He knew as much, he could never go back. Not that he hadn’t always had these sorts of thoughts and inclinations. Once of the reasons Bruce had taken on him and Dick was their murderous inclinations needed to be curbed, for Dick it had work, for Jason… Well it was a combination of a lot of things, it wasn’t really Bruce’s fault it had failed. Other than the fact that he’d let the Joker live far longer than he should have, but that was bleeding-heart-Brucie for you. It was funny, to not really be mad at Bruce anymore, understanding there was nothing else he could have done, and still not be able to forgive him.

Danny must have noticed how Jason had gotten lost in his own head because he reached across the table and covered one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own, soft and cool. “You’re doing really well Jason. It’s a messed up situation but I don't think anyone could have handled it better then you are,” Danny said softly.

Jason didn’t believe it but it felt good to hear and it did settle him a little bit. “Thanks Danny, that means a lot,” he said, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before pulling back. 

There was a natural break in conversation as the waitress brought their appetizers, and when she left again Jason didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Danny spoke. “Why don’t I tell you a bit about my doctor? Frostbite can be a lot, as much as it would probably be funny to spring him on you I should probably give you a heads up.”

“Ya, ya that sounds good,” Jason agreed, glad to let Danny do the talking for a bit. And when telling him about Frostbite turned into talking about the Yetis, to talking about the Infinite Realms, to Danny info-dumping about space. Well Jason really doesn’t mind, especially with the way it makes Danny light up. It was good to see him happy.

---------

The food was good but Jason didn’t taste much of it, and aside from going “Oh wow!” When he took his first bite of his food Danny didn’t seem to either. At a certain point Jason realized he was going to have to do some talking or Danny was going to keep talking and wouldn’t eat. So he took over, but he didn’t know much about space so he started talking about literature and poetry and Danny listened raptly and finally ate his food.

It was very nice to have someone listen to him like that, it was sort of funny, it looked like it was as fun for Danny to listen to him talk then it had been the other way. Jason thought about how supporting obsessions was important for ghosts to have their obsessions supported. Reading wasn’t Really his obsession, he didn’t think, but it sure was an interest and it felt really good to get to share with someone new. 

By the end of the dinner Jason has well and truly decided that this was a date. Danny was cute, good, and passionate, and a good listener, Oh and strong as Fuck which was always a turn on for Jason. Speaking of powerful…

“Can I ask you another sort of serious question?” Jason asked after they got their dessert. Danny looked up, mouth full and a little smear of chocolate on his top lip, Jason resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. Danny nodded. “When Damian gave me his little shovel talk he mentioned that you’re going to be a god some day?” He said, tilting his head. Maybe that was a third date sort of conversation but it seemed like it would be important to understanding Danny.

Danny choked a little and swallowed, sighing heavily. “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danny grumbled. “There’s a prophecy apparently, and with how my powers have been progressing even just in the first 2 years since I died, I can already go toe to toe with some Ancients and win so… Ya, I guess it’s probably inevitable, especially since I haven’t stagnated yet. I don’t want to be one really, I didn’t ask for this, but whatever. I probably can’t stop it.” He slumped back in the booth, looking tired. 

Shit Jason shouldn’t have brought that up. “Hey you’ve got time right? That won’t be for a while. Also, what’s an Ancient?” 

“Very old, very powerful spirits. They’re essentially their own pantheon, Ancient is basically just what ghosts call gods.” He said with a shrug.

“Makes sense, I mean gods usually are ancient. Even more reason you don’t have to worry about that right now. I mean you’re far from ancient,” Jason pointed out, earning himself a little smile from Danny. 

“Ya, you’re right,” He agreed and went back to eating his dessert, the conversation moved on to the music they liked.

When the bill came Jason put his card down without letting Danny see what the bill came to and passed it back to the waitress. They lingered in the booth for a while still chatting, unwilling to part ways yet. If Jason didn’t know his family would want Danny home before they went out on patrol he might have suggested they just go to a park and walk for a while. Talk, maybe each take one of his wireless earbuds and take turns picking songs. But he had a feeling Damian really would try to kill Jason if he didn’t get to see Danny home safe. 

Eventually they left, wandering back to Jason’s motorbike and Danny snuggled up to Jason’s back again as they drove back to the manor. The silence was companionable until Jason pulled up, propping the bike up to let Danny get off. He took off his helmet and handed it back to Jason, not letting go immediately when Jason took it so their hands were touching. 

“This was nice, I had fun,” Danny said, blushing a little and looking down.

“It was, we should do it again soon,” Jason agreed, “I’ll text you okay?” 

“You’d better,” Danny teased before walking back towards the manor. 

Damian opened the door for him, shooting Jason a glare before slamming it making him laugh. He was still a child no matter how much he pretended he wasn’t. Jason kicked off on his bike and zoomed off, heading home to get ready for patrol.

Next

[vintagerpg]

Satan’s been missing for years and some of the substitute rulers of Hell have had it. They’ve taken off to the moral realm for a havoc-sewing vacation. Heaven ain’t having that, though, so they knock on Hell’s door and tell the remaining rulers to drag back the hooky-playing demons or there’s gonna be a war. So Hell sends out some motorcycle- riding demons (the players) to fix things before the whole cosmos falls apart. The year is 1980-something. The game is Hell Night (2022?).

The “game” portion is actually pretty scant, a lightweight thing built for speed and derived from Gavriel Quiroga’s previous games. The vast majority of the book is system neutral source material. You could use any of the light weight D&D-ish systems floating around (Into the Odd, Cairn, etc) but I actually quite like Quiroga’s arrangement. Three attributes: Guts (strength), Style (dex) and Brains (intelligence), augmented by Grit (a luck metacurrency). Roll 2d6, get under the attribute score. Boom. Characters are class-based (Slayers, Reapers, Usurpers, Revenants) and are all structured so they can sit on top of classes from other games and are further differentiated by Edges, Rituals and Relics.

The world on display here is an infernal delight. You might confuse the aesthetic as a riff on Mork Bork, but it really hews to a cut-and-paste look favored by metal and punk bands of an earlier era — this is a nice hardcover book, but feels like a photocopied zine from the ’80s or early ’90s to me. There’s a clear preoccupation with ’80s heavy metal here, both in its cool and dangerous mode and its campy incarnations. Other clear inspirations include Hunter Thompson and the bikers from the film Mandy. Lotta gnarl here, but don’t miss the silliness hiding in the corners. A real surprising breath of putrid, soul-scorching air.

[whoreish-behaviour]

Revenant 2

Previous - Next

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< = Man-handling, nothing too extreme..yet

The throbbing pain all over your body was what woke you up. You felt as if you had been chewed up and spat out.

Even opening your eyes grew to be difficult, the blinding glare from above proving to be too much for your unadjusted eyes.

After much effort though you did, finding yourself placed carelessly into the corner of a room.

The ceiling was low and the table in front of you barley reached your knees as you wobbled to stand. You assessed yourself quietly, nothing looked broken or too bruised.

Aside from your tail, that had an odd bend to it.

However there was also an excessive simultaneous ache in your back, tail and thigh as you gritted your teeth.

You thought back to how you got here, the room leaking the scent of those sky creatures.

You could feel yourself get more angry as you remembered exactly how you ended up in this beaming white room.

The pathetic oaf had knocked you out. And how? You weren't sure.

Your tail whipped around you painfully as you felt yourself get more worked up, ears flattening as you circled the table - searching for a way out the puny room.

You spotted the door, stomping over to it only to find it completely sealed shut.

Banging you fist against it, you hissed at the thing blocking your path out of there. Spinning around, you then saw...you?

The whole wall seemed to reflect, like the water back home when you gazed down into it icy depths.

The reminder only fired you up more as you walked over to it, fingertips ever so lightly touching the cool surface.

You looked at yourself and tilted you head, ears up and alert. How these creatures had managed to mimic water baffled you.

They were such stupidly.. smart things.

They were smart and stupid enough to create destructive machines that in turn destroyed themselves and everything around them.

And now they were here, set on laying their destructive fingers on Pandora and cursing its soul with their disease.

The thought had your blood pumping with anger as your hand became a fist, slamming against the surface before you. You repeated it again and again, hissing and snarling.

They couldn't keep you here.

You had a family, a clan to keep safe - away from the sky creatures.

You then felt the wall begin to splinter beneath your fist. You stopped as you heard a hissing sound escape the damaged area.

Stepping back cautiously, your eyes bounced all over the room - waiting for something to happen.

And almost immediately, you began to hear the seal on the door break away, smoke collecting along one side.

Instincts on high alert, the only thought racing through your mind was Run!

Lowering to the ground slightly, you crept closer to the door just as it began to hiss along its edge- similar to the sound you heard from the wall.

As quick as anything it slid open, revealing the blue soldier from before, the ink on his arm easy to identify.

Your face automatically snarled - you couldn't see from his chest upwards as the doorway was too low, however you knew he was sneering right back.

Without thinking, you darted towards him, slipping though the gap between his body and the door.

Because of the doorway, he wasn't able to guess your intention, giving you a clear head start as you ran down the hallway.

'Fuckin’ hell..' You heard his curse just as you rounded the corner.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, littered with people in uniform who all turned to you, faces going pale.

Not wanting to linger any longer, you sprinted down the hall until you came to an absolutely massive room.

The eyes of soldiers and more people in white snapped to you, there had to be at least over 50 in the room. Amongst them, the blue soldiers that had helped raid your clan where also planted around.

Caught off guard you came to a stop, breathes heavy with frustration.

There was no escaping, not unless you wanted to risk being shot.

You felt a seed of panic grow as you saw people reach for their weapons, knowing this could be the place you die.

Not on the coast where you grew up, not on the back of your ilu fighting for your clan and not in the arms of the people you loved.

No, it was going to be a cold, white room filled with your enemies.

The air around you felt thick, too thick to breath as you began to heave. Why couldn't you breath?

All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, causing your panic to grow more and more, working yourself into a terrifying state of fear.

Your legs and mind suddenly felt weak, too weak to feel hands behind you grasping yours in a firm grip before pinning them behind you.

You felt yourself being kicked to the ground, body collapsing as you continued to gasp out, all breath finally leaving you.

You cheek rested against the cold ground until you felt a warm hand on you chin, grasping you jaw and tilting it up.

You them felt another hand on the back of your head, gently lifting it off the ground.

Feeling the same hand crawl from the back of you head to the underside of your face, it supported the weight of your head entirely, your body loosing strength to so.

The hand on your jaw then left you, before quickly returning - a black breathing mask in it's grasp. It was pressed firmly to your mouth and nose, creating a seal.

You then felt it.

It was as if you were breathing for the first time again.

You eyes shot open as the air filled your lungs, your chest expanding as you let out a gasp.

Shooting out, your hand cupped over the one holding the device, pressing it even harder against you face, sucking in the air.

After a few, you eventually calmed down, breathes even.

As your mind cleared though, you realised who was siting on your back, their weight heavy but not entirely restricting.

It was just to make sure you didn't try anything stupid again.

Sensing your body tensing beneath him, the soldier pulled back his hand, leaving yours to hold the breathing machine.

'Easy.'

You didn't fight back, only relaxing against the floor as you allowed yourself to go limp.

You weren't in immediate danger, yourself told yourself to calm down, obeying the order given to you for once.

'You go ahead and keep that, but imma' need your cooperation.' He saw your ear flick in his direction as he watched you maul over his words.

You were either contemplating another cheap escape or was translating his words to yourself.

He hoped it was the latter.

He then felt your body shift under his, until you laid on your back, staring up at him. He didn't sense a fight or struggle but he could never be too sure.

He looked down at you, hands ready to hold you down if you tried anything, but the nod of your head had him relaxing ever so slightly.

You watched him as he looked away from you and towards the many people behind you.

You saw as another breathing mask was thrown towards him, his hand easily grasping it as he raised it to his mouth, deeply inhaling before letting it hang from around his neck.

You stared as you his chest expanded before settling once again. You then traced up to his neck, his traditional blue Na'vi stripes peaking out.

You cursed yourself for looking.

He was evil.

A walking devil in disguise of your people.

You saw him look back down at you, his right hand reaching behind him ominously. You felt your face screw up, his movements making you suspicious.

Only when your eyes saw the handcuffs did you move once again.

He wanted you restrained!

However, you'd never allow him to have that much effortless control over you.

Bucking your hips up to attempt to throw him off, you wriggled around, trying to escape as he pressed his weight down on you, trapping you to the cold tile.

'They’re only goin' on until I get you away from all these important people.' He rolled his eyes at your dramatic display, before placing the orange restraint between his teeth.

Now with his hands free, he was able to flip you back over, pressing down hard between your shoulder blades as you hissed at him.

You heard him whistle above you as you continued to thrash.

'How her down will you?' You heard him mock you, talking about you as if you were some rabid dog.

Looking to your side, you saw another blue soldier step closer over to you, her smirking face glazing down at you, her jaw chewing something in a bored manner.

She walked all the way up until she was directly in front, her boots an inch from your face.

You then felt a rough pressure replace the hand on your back, the texture painful as it dug into your skin to hold you down.

You whined from your helplessness as you felt two hands roughly grab yours, placing them at you base of your spine before being secured tightly.

Looking up, you saw the female soldier, her foot securing you to the ground, watch as you were restrained, a smirk on her lips.

Knowing there was nothing else you could do, you slumped to the ground, tired breaths leaving you.

'Atta' girl!' You heard her laugh at your submission, her foot lifting from up your back before dropping back down in front of you and walking back to where she originally was.

You then felt the weight on you move up, a single hand grasping the hair at the back of your head, pulling it to yank your head back. You cried out but didn't move.

'Don' move.' You heard him grumble before you felt the breathing mask being attached back to you, the band now going around you head to keep it there.

He released your hair and you felt his weight leave you completely. You shivered as the cool air traced over your uncovered back.

You eyes widened as you suddenly felt a hand grab at your tail, the thing still in pain from earlier. You looked over your shoulder and hissed at the soldier.

His thumb was tracing over the lower middle section of your tail that was bend ever so slightly, the area discoloured and purple.

And from your hissing and whines he would tell it was hurting like a bitch.

Looking over his shoulder, the colonel waved over one of the many doctors and scientists, who immediately came padding over - clipboard in hand.

'This thing look broken' to you?' He emphasised by moving your tail closer to the doctor, your body dragging with it slightly as you whimpered.

The doc's gloved hands replaced the colonel's, fingers assessing the area while the colonel's eyes bounced from your injured limb to you, making sure you stayed down.

'I'll definitely need an X-ray but I'm pretty sure I can snap it back into place. A few bandages for a while and it'll be fine.' The doctor spoke, shrugging as if it was nothing.

The colonel looked back down at you, body obeying for once and relaxing.

You wouldn't be useful if you were broke.

Plus, he knew how sensitive these things were and could only imagine the pain every time your body acted on instinct and moved it.

It was gonna be a bitch to do but he knew he was having your tail fixed whether you wanted it or not.

Part 3

Kofi <33

Taglist = @namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell

[zaahvi]

some more interesting stuff that stood out to me from the IGN video!

(previous post)

this set of dialogue options makes me think "spite" is the demon that is possessing lucanis! that's definitely not one we've seen before yet!

this looks like a red lyrium ogre, but it's also possible it could be a qunari based on the qamekmaster we see later and the fact that this is in treviso (based on the surroundings and the crow's road rooftops location tag). i'm sticking to ogre though as it just looks more like one! it's interesting that it has a name though...

the qamekmaster in question ^^ qamek is a qunari poison used on mages. this qamekmaster must've been a qunari 👀 i talked about this more in detail here if anyone is interested.

sticking to treviso for a bit, these symbols - which i assume belong to the antaam? not even sure what they're supposed to be honestly. but the top really looks like ghil's head shape.

there's also one in the crows hideout here. maybe taken as a trophy? and hey that statue looks so cool??? i wonder who it is...

viagooooo!! and "the butcher" was mentioned before in the short story as we fly!

it seems that the antaam managed to invade so quickly because a traitor let them in 👀

beloveds mentioned <3

moving on from antiva, the way i audibly gasped when i saw this 😭 i've seen theories about it being the regret demon and i agree!! i think the boss itself is a revenant (as mentioned in the video), which are corpses possessed by demons - in this case the regret demon probably, but who was the corpse?

at a different point in the video you can see this, it looks like a tear in the veil like in the prologue but red? and it looks like there's tentacles on the other side

this statue in the hossberg wetlands is elven, and judging by the map marker i'm guessing it's either a fast travel point or party select point. it's blurry so hard to make out, but the crown looks like it could either be mythal's or the "nib" evanuris head shape (which i think is dirthamen). also is that a hand in the top left wtf

had to include this because 💀💀 lmao yikes

this line from harding was used in promo for her vows & vengeance episode last week!!

who or what is a rathera 👀

this seems like it could be a personal quest for neve!! or maybe a sidequest you can help her with

elgar'nan symbol above the bookshelf in the lighthouse library :) it's right in front of the elgarmythal mural in fact.

pics aren't very good, but you can see two more of what i assume are the "regrets" murals. the second one looks particularly interesting, though i can't make anything specific out

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Revenant!Jazz ideas:

Continuing from this DPxDC prompt of mine, I’ve had some more thoughts about Jasmine Fenton and Revenants, especially where it concerns DC lore and Jason Todd in particular.

———————-

In my original post, @starlightcat04 asked whether or not Jazz’s eyes would glow toxic green too. I propose that, no, they wouldn’t.

While it’s a common head canon that Ectoplasm is heavily influenced by emotions, Jazz’s Ecto-contamination is bone deep and pure, unlike Jason’s. So no, I don’t believe her eyes would glow green.

They turn from the teal she had in life to a smoldering green that reflects light just like a feline, with a heavily damaged sclera that is perceived as black in low lighting, with ash grey veins spreading from her eye sockets down to her jaw like tears.

Her once bright hair turns from a lively orange-ish red to the color of cooling embers.

That which caused her death, a punctured artery is half-way healed by the time Jazz reanimates in the crematorium, so not only is she supposed to be dead still, she also has to be very careful with her movements otherwise she could very well bleed out again before she is fully healed.

What else changes with Revenant!Jazz?

In exchange for a higher mental processing and the high damage absorption of Revenants, Jazz loses most (almost all) of her memories of her life. What she does remember is thankfully not her death, but rather Danny’s, his death scream and ghostly wail overlap in her mind, at times causing severe headaches and nausea.

(According to his wiki page, Jason spent a year in a coma and as an amnesiac vagrant, therefore it’s not entirely without precedent that Jazz wouldn’t keep hers.)

Her Ecto-contamination has to factor in a lot though.

Jason was revived by Superboy-Prime’s Reality Shattering Punch. Jazz was reanimated by her own willpower, aided by Ecto to allow her body to heal and regress the stages of rigor mortis.

———//:///////———-

What does Jazz need to accomplish as a Revenant?

In the original prompt I wrote that Jazz returned to keep Danny safe- broad enough for a prompt, but what exactly does “safe” for a halfa entail?

Let’s list the major threats to Danny’s health, beginning with the obvious: the Ghost Investigation Ward and The Fenton Parents.

The Fentons are capable of tracking Phantom by his Ecto-signature, creating and having created weaponry specifically designed to target the ghost in question, to which they pass that tech on to the GIW.

If Danny remains in Gotham, the ambient Ecto will scramble the tech over enough of a distance, but if Danny were in a line up of three people right next to a GIW agent he’d be clocked almost immediately.

So, the Fentons and the GIW have to go. How does this happen?

The greatest irony I could possibly inflict on these anti-ghosters- becoming ghosts themselves. I won’t go into detail about what my brain jumped to when I thought about that outcome, but let’s just say it was pretty dark.

(And karmically well-deserved.)

#3 on the list depends on where Danny is when Jazz is finished with numbers 1 & 2 on her list.

If Danny is is Gotham and staying there for the long haul, then I believe this girl would take one look at Batman’s rogue gallery and nope them so hard everyone in Gotham gets the sense of their world about to be rocked, but the ones she gunning for the most?

(Joker, Bane, Manbat, Firefly, Madhatter, Riddler…)

They get the sensation that someone just walked over their non-existent graves.

(I got a little gleeful demented imagining Jazz just straight up ripping Manbat’s wings clean off, burning Firefly alive and throwing a detoxed Bane into a crowd of vengeful Gothamites.)

(Jazz learns that Joker killed a young hero with a crowbar and a bomb. She’s fully onboard with turnabout being fair play when it comes to that Pennywise reject.)

(I can’t even begin to list every rogue Jazz cuts down, it she doesn’t kill all of them, just most of their number.)

(Gotham celebrates for weeks.)

(I’m not sure whether or not Jazz kills the four mentioned previously in a couple of nights, one night or over a a few months, but it doesn’t take as long as one might think.)

/://:///////:::/::::///////

What’s next for Revenant!Jazz?

I’m still writing The Regent series, so I doubt I’ll come back to this for a while, but I’ll still be posting ideas and whatnot about Revenant!Jazz. There’s still plenty to explore here, and I have a pretty angst/bittersweet ending for Jazz in mind I want to talk about later.

If you have any ideas to add, please feel free to comment! If anyone does write this, please let me know so I can read it!

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - Looking for Home: Louis, Claudia & Daciana

They flip between siblings and parent so much even I was getting whiplash--no wonder Lou's confused. U_U

This was EEEEEEEEVIIIIIIL, AMC! 😭 Louis carrying Grace's wedding portrait, and using it to FAKE his identity in Europe, after Grace couldn't even go to Europe for her own honeymoon cuz Paul died--STOP IT! 😭😭

And you can hear just a few quick seconds of the DPDL lietmotif that always plays for Grace, Paul, and sibling!Claudia, before it takes this SUPER dark and ominous tone--the song has been tainted, just like Lou's relationship with Grace and Claudia was tainted.

Go AWF, Claudia!

And then she finds ONE, and it was so heartbreakingly touching.

I was hoping she was Alessandra, but nope, she's an AMC!OC, Daciana. I'm assuming they were nodding to one rando revenant:

And she is obviously the same "Anna" the kids were singing about--(very Gaunter O'Dimm of them, I love it 💀)--living like frikkin Baba Yaga in a grimy castle in the woods.

Daciana killed her own fledgling after Claudia blinded him--after the revanant AND Daciana attacked them first, but whatever. Cuz she said he wouldn't be able to hunt/feed with no eyes--so it can't heal; her fledglings are too effed up. She's officially the last one in the area.

And I get it now--the bear(?) head Claudia breaks off of the dead vampire's sarcophagus was a heraldric figurehead. Claudia showed it to Daciana, as a way of asking her who that dead vamp was.

She didn't want to tell them her story or hear theirs--but she wanted them to know about Cezare Romulo (RIP). (It's crazy how in 5 minutes The Vampire Daciana was way more effective than a whole hour of Dierdre Mayfair. 🙄😒) She complimented Claudia's blood, saying it tasted like the cream of the crop. Daciana only told them her name, and that she was waiting for her children--fledglings or real ones, who knows (I bet both).

Only for Daciana to kill herself right in front of them (RIP). 😔🔥

This is so sad, but it was obvious she was gonna do that.

Stop teasing the Children of Darkness after this Alessandra fake-out. She's got the same darkness in her that Nicki (AND Louis) had. And we know where that means. 🔥💀🔥

These vampires are STARVING--hungry for family, love, home: LIFE.

So is Claudia! 😭😭😭 She wants a blood spouse! She wants a companion!

So I LOVE that Morgan clocked Louis on Grace's photo--that ain't yo wife! The gaydar was beeping the second your pretty arse walked in!

Like, it's been established that Louis is a terrible liar-you don't need an investigative journalist to figure that much out. Louis is TOO honest--he was dumb AF for telling Morgan his real name! I get why he did it in the book--again: desperate to make a connection.

But on the show it comes across way different--Louis almost immediately tells Morgan his name (he doesn't do that for Emilia, even though SHE called him pretty! Istg I was picking up some flirtatiousness with Lou & Morgan; put those pheromones AWAY 😂). But you come across MIGHTY SUS if your Black arse is going around switching identities on all these twitchy Europeans, Louis!

Like baaaaaasicallllllyyyyyyy!!! 🤦 You see them shooting up corpses just to make sure--you think they won't shoot YOU!?!

Anyways, it's so cool that they made Morgan a photographer--so is THIS why Louis starts taking photos!? 🤩📸

Cuz I've been wondering how Louis makes money in Paris so they don't have to pickpocket anymore?

I love that they included this.

No matter where they go, they have to pose as Black servants and maids and VALETS and SLAVES, white folk are the same regardless of the country.

Which was an interesting parallel with Daciana, and how much they were hyping up America.

She was clearly nuts, but smart & sane enough to realize that 2 (two!) Black vampires had fled their oh-so-great "land of the free" to come to HER busted AF blown up war-torn country, so why should she expect to have any happiness over there?

I don't know a lick of Romanian, but I wonder if the "another one" she was referring to was the soldier, or the country. As Daciana realized that no matter who she made her new fledgling, and no matter which country she ran to, she'd be alone & unhappy without the people she loved--her HOME.

Home is where the HEART is! Claudia's been homeless this whole time! Daciana's got that huge castle, but lives all alone--she can't make proper fledglings. Meanwhile Louis still thinks NOLA is home, even after they killed everyone who knew them--"including" Lestat!

*sigh* I hate this effing show, it's so dang good. 😭

[tgrailwar-zero]

And after that performance, the fight was over. You felt JAGUAR MAN give you a hearty pat on the shoulder.

JAGUAR MAN: "Now that was a fight, kid! You should feel proud. Little Miss Samurai should have been returned to the fighter's resting area."

With that, she walked out.

You stepped out of the locker room and returned to find MUSASHI was back in the rest area, laying down. She had taken her eyepatch off, though she sat up when you approached.

MUSASHI: "So? Pretty cool, huh?"

She had her Flame Pad on her lap, and you saw she had a few new notifications that she hadn't opened yet. She flipped it open and unlocked it, before handing it to you with a yawn.

MUSASHI: "Here you go, 'Manager'. I'll let you handle that, I'm kind of beat."

You looked at the notifications as she went back to lounging.

New Messages: ⟡ {ADAMAS} - 1 New Message! (Woah, now that…) ☠︎︎ {MNSLYR} - 1 New Message! (yeah, thats about…) ♛ {JISHNU} - 1 New Message! (Quite the show…) ☀︎ {CITT} - 1 New Message! (Lady Samurai, I've…) ❀ {JERAN} - 1 New Message! (Good game, Saber!…)

-

Recent Messages:

✴{JAGUAR} - Admin: JAGUAR MAN † {FATHER} - Admin: FATHER KOTOMINE ✘ {BLADE} - Fighter: WANDERING BLADE

-

✩ {3STAR} - Fighter: TRI-STAR ☕︎ {CHAJIN} - Fighter: CHAJIN ✴ {EAGLE} - Fighter: CUAUHTLI 🗡{STRONG} - Fighter: STRONG MASK ➶ {KARASU} - Fighter: CROW PRIEST ༄ {MOBYDK} - Fighter: MOBY DICK 𓆟 {WTRREV} - Fighter: WATERSIDE REVENANT 𖦹 {TWISTR} - Fighter: FLESH-TWISTER 🗲 {THUNDR} - Fighter: THUNDERER

--

You checked the available messages.

--

-{ADAMAS} -- [ Woah, now that was what I'd call a fight! I knew from the moment we met you were more than just a beautiful flower, but a special blossom with razor-sharp petals! Spend the evening with me, please! You're beginning to consume my thoughts, and I feel like I'm falling in love all over again!

Hi, this is Adamant's manager. We will make sure that he behaves himself if you choose to meet with him. ]

--

-{MNSLYR} -- [ yeah, thats about what i expected from you, saber. sleepin on the job and somehow pullin off a win? what kind of stupid shit was that lmao. man we better get a chance to fight or i'll be pissed.

listen, i can't meet now, but drinks tonight? you've earned it.

again, congrats. since your fight was goin on at the same time as the whale, you should actually feel pretty damn impressed that lady cleopatra was lookin at your bout more than the damn sea monsters. also the whale won (obviously) so thats your next opponent. so uh. good luck. or maybe i should be tellin that to the fish? ]

--

-{JISHNU} -- [ Quite the show you put on, Saber. It even had me on the edge of my seat! I'm assuming you've heard my deal with your allied Caster and Rider? If you claim victory, then I'll pull some strings and allow you a personal audience with Pharaoh Cleopatra. However, I do also have information on a certain Archer you may have been acquainted with in ages past. Curious? You're curious, aren't you? I'll send you my current whereabouts, and I'll expect to see you there. I'm not a man that likes to be kept waiting, however. ]

--

-{CITT} -- [ Lady Samurai, I've heard legend of people like you, those that people outside of the 'Solar Cell' deemed as 'Heroic Spirits'. I could tell from the way you battled that you must be one of them, though I apologize if I'm being presumptuous. Still, if I am correct, to have a chance to meet you in person would be a great honor. I understand you may be busy and certainly receiving a large amount of requests after such an exciting first match. However, if you do have the time to spare, I would be grateful to receive it. ]

--

-{JERAN} -- [ Good game, Saber! Talk about bad luck for me, getting put up against someone as formidable as you. Ah, but I guess I'm in the loser's bracket now… oh well, it's not a huge loss. As always, my services are available if you want some information on your opponents. Not every fighter is going to be as weak as me, you know. Not right now, though, I need time to recover, haha. Still... man, katanas really are the coolest... ]

--

It seemed like there were a few options already.

Going to a fight allows you to meet with at least one of your currently allied Servants, though their own availability may vary as the arc continues. It may also create a chance encounter as well.

[reds-skull]

Post script on Not Alive, Nor Dead

Like I mentioned yesterday, I have a lot to say about the fic now that it's done.

The TLDR is that I'm leaving an option for a sequel. No promises though.

Leaving the rest of it under the cut because idk how long it will end up.

Okay, so first thing I gotta admit is that I didn't plan shit lmao. I had the start very clearly in my head, which were the scenes I talked about in the first post I made about revenant AU. But the entire plot line with Graves being a secret revenant? Hell, even the whole 'revenants and non-revs are getting kidnapped around the world' was not planned.

The scene in chapter 4 with the PMC was the introduction for the anonymous PMC, but I didn't think of making Graves and in extension Shadow Company all the work of a revenant. I was debating even making him a revenant at all, up until I wrote the chapter introducing him.

This approach, of not planning shit, is what made me excited to sit down and write every day. It felt like I was discovering the story myself.

It's also a fucking miracle the story is coherent in any shape or form.

Now, I did write a few things before starting. They were a small overview of the character arcs I want the 141 to go through, and a brief about each revenant's powers, because those things need to be consistent.

The arc overview isn't accurate anymore, it has a version of Gaz's storyline that I didn't manage to fit in, where he has a fear of heights, and overcomes it throughout the fic. The only one really left unchanged was Soap, who had the whole "my powers are too destructive" thing ongoing for most of the story.

Speaking of Soap, the Konchar mystery? I was figuring it out while writing the 3 chapters before introducing 'Konchar'. There are some inconsistencies because of that, specifically in a line where Soap says something along the lines of "I did something on my Reaping, something that if I could replicate, I might've not been let on the team." which kinda makes sense but kinda doesn't, considering all that Ghost has done.

Ghost's struggles with Limbo were something I added after wanting to give him a parallel to Soap. Originally, Ghost's role was to be the guy that has already gone through what Soap is going through, already knowing everything and having as much control on Limbo as he can. But making Limbo this uncontrollable realm was more interesting... also having it reflect Ghost's mind and emotions was cool.

One of the most pleasant surprises was how Price's powers interacted with everyone else's. I think it was the best power to personality match I made, he's not as scary as the others at first glance, but the ability to bore into the minds of his enemies, the way no one can keep secrets from him? Makes him terrifying. It's not made clear in the fic, but the reason it took Price so long to figure Graves out is their previous encounters. Graves knew how to divert his thoughts away from his Shadows, and stop Price from finding out.

What made Price realize Grave's Shadows aren't human is he tried to read their mind, only to find a list of commands. Graves tried to keep them away as much as he can, but it was inevitable. Shepherd knew it, which is why he ordered Price to keep his mouth shut almost instantly.

Since the way revenants get their powers must be linked to the way they died, some revs were easier to find powers for than others. Obviously the 141 was first, some at the time I started thinking about how they died didn't have a canon near-death experience, like Price and Soap.

I took Ghost's og backstory, and the idea of Limbo was gotten from the fact he died in a coffin, in a state of in between life and death. What Limbo does to people was just 'scariest thing I could imagine' type of situation. In the end, I don't know if Limbo is scarier when Ghost couldn't control it, or when both he and Soap could.

With Soap, I knew I wanted something with explosions, so it was a no-brainer to make him die from one. I mentioned in another post, but revenant AU was originally at the very beginning just a thing of 'what if I put mw characters in my original magic system?', and in that scenario, Soap was the only one with powers, which were control over anti matter, meaning anything he touches or touches him explodes. The only scene from that one is of Soap pushing Ghost away and getting shot to high hell, only to go and explode the people that tried to kill him - which is chapter 8.

I chose to use Gaz's iconic hanging out of a chopper scene, because I found it funny tbh lol. Later, when I thought of how exactly he died, it became more serious.

Price's were just kinda random tbh. I figured telepathy is a good ability for a Captain.

Rudy obviously dies in the house fire he almost did in the campaign. Alejandro was harder, but I thought of how Graves locked him up in the black site prison alone, so I went for something similar.

It's not mentioned in the fic, but Farah was the youngest to die from all of them. The house collapse in the start of her flashbacks in mwi, where her father pulled her out of the rubble? She didn't survive it. She's a very rare revenant, to be Reaped when she was a kid.

Farah and Ghost's og backstory have a lot of similarities, in my mind they're parallels to each other. What Farah had that Ghost didn't, however, is other people, a community. I think that's why she didn't lose herself the way Ghost did.

Alex's was difficult, because his canon near-death experience was being exploded, like Soap. I used the fact he's ex CIA, to figure he probably took part of many covert operations, and one went wrong. He was caught, so now he can go invisible. This was the thing I failed to make clear the most in the fic, I think, since a few people asked, more than anything else.

Thomas Anderson, the revenant with underwater breathing abilities, was originally made just for Ghost to roast him. When chapter 8 rolled around, and I needed a random revenant to kill there, I thought using the one established would make sense.

Accidental foreshadowing like this was what carried the fic, tbh. It was like a huge session of 'yes, and'ing myself. A little bit of bullshitting confidently, sometimes it felt like that lmao.

The wedding vows in chapter 31 were, again, unplanned. Ghost said "till death do us apart, Johnny?", so I started looking up Christian wedding vows in English because I don't fully remember them. Later I thought "wait, Soap is Catholic, maybe they have a different version." and then I thought, "shit, he's fuckin' Scottish, he won't use fucking American Catholic vows." (maybe he would idk).

Anyway, I found the Celtic vows present in the fic, which sounded like a metaphor, so perfect I couldn't use them just for the original joke they were meant for. So Soap ends up reciting literal wedding vows at the man.

[here's a link to the website I found the vows at]

Last thing is the whole Makarov tie in to Konchar. I was thinking about how we never really dove deep into why Konchar did what he did, besides having his Reaper tell him "you have to kill Soap before he kills you". I heard an advice somewhere, that in world building you have to dive in two questions for it to be believable.

So, let's take Konchar for example. First question is, "how did Soap killing Konchar not bring on an international incident between Kastovia and the UK?". The answer is, "Konchar was an army deserter." Second question is, "why did Konchar desert the army?", and the second answer is, "because he left to work with Makarov."

We don't need to know why he left, not at the point I left the fic at. Those two answers would be enough for readers to not feel like there's a plot hole there, at least according to that advice I've heard.

NOW, with all of that out of the way, I wanted to post the notes I've made on each revenant's powers, because I thought it could be interesting for someone. AND! I kept some deleted scenes, and it would be a shame to just let them rot in the Google Doc lol.

First up, list of revenants and their powers:

[These aren't 100% accurate anymore, as they were written before I started writing the fic, and I only added stuff to them]

Ghost - limbo: is able to send a circle around him into “limbo”, a space between life and death, that no one can escape. Filled with his enemies. Only way to survive is if ghost brings you to the eye of the storm, where he keeps himself safe of his own powers. Ghost can be killed by any means if taken by surprise and doesnt activate his powers.

If stands still too long, inky hands start grasping at him from the ground. Prefers to sleep elevated.

Died in a coffin.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield to withstand fire in his right hand.

Soap - explosion: cant be killed by explosions, and can explode anything he touches. Any injury with the root cause being explosion (fall from high building, debris scratches, etc.) will be healed, but he does feel pain from it. Gunshots cant kill him (the bullets shoot with explosions). Can be killed by any melee attack, poison, electricity.

Fire burns from his fingertips, hard to put out. Spreads when agitated. Hot to the touch.

Died from a fall because of an explosion.

From chapter 21 and beyond - able to wield the protective light in his left hand in Limbo.

Gaz - gravity: can manipulate gravity of himself and objects he touches. Cant die from falling. Can be killed by any means, but hard to catch and aim at while at motion.

Usually floats a couple inches off ground.

Died in a helicopter accident.

Price - telepathy: can talk and transmit simple ideas to other around him. Can feel emotions of others. Can be killed by any means, but Price can manipulate the enemies thoughts and distract them.

His thoughts can “leak” if left unguarded.

Died after being abandoned and without comms.

Alejandro - phase: can phase through solid objects, including bullets. Can be killed by any means if caught by surprise.

Sometimes accidentally phases through things.

Died in captivity.

Rodolfo - ice: can lower the temperature of anything he touches rapidly. Can freeze and jam guns. Can inflict ice burns. Can be killed by any means beside fire.

Breath always visible, cold to the touch.

Died in a fire.

Farah - steelskin: can deflect any attack to her body. Bullets, knives, rockets. Can be killed by poison easily, as needles cant pierce her skin and therefore medical administration is hard to give.

Skin shines oddly.

Died from a stab wound. [changed to what I explained above]

Youngest to become a revenant.

Alex - invisibility: can become invisible. Otherwise can be killed by any means, hard to spot.

Skin sometimes flickers.

Died when got caught.

Graves - shadow company: can create “shadows”, puppets he controls. Can be killed by any means, but hard to get through his shadows.

Doesnt have a shadow of his own, eyes become milky and vacant, leaking after a while.

Died from betrayal.

[I didn't manage to find a place to add this - yes, Graves died after his squad betrayed him. His powers are a replacement for the whole army. His last line, "Me? I am the army." was what he boiled down to. Limbo's victims marking him a traitor was two fold. He betrayed the 141, Vaqueros, the UFL and basically everyone around him, but he also betrayed his own Reaper, who gave him powers to not go through that very thing. It's also another reason why chapter 30 is called 'Die As You Live'.]

Kirill “Konchar” Bogomolov - telekinesis: can move objects with his mind. Can protect himself from any physical attack, and redirect them towards the attacker. Is a revenant of the Pull, like Gaz.  (name means “Lord” and “devotionalist”) First death from RPG, second death by Soap.

Now, for the cut content. Most of these are one scene, usually one that didn't fit the emotinal arc of the characters, or the direction was going somewhere I didn't like. There's one that is a page and a half long, and that chapter was one of the hardest to write, so I practically restarted it at one point.

I'll try to add the context they were originally in if I remember.

[Context: the scene in Chapter 5, where Ghost watches the night sky out of a window, unable to sleep, and Soap comes to speak with him for the first time since they fought about Soap's tendenticy to let himself get hurt. Soap says he heard rumors about Ghost, and Ghost asks what they said.]

“ (rumors) That you murder our soldiers.”

Something akin to fear rang through his chest. So he knows… He supposes it was meant to happen eventually.

Soap’s face, for some reason, doesn’t lose its newfound cheerfulness.

“And what do you think about those rumors?” Hell knows why he wants to keep hearing him talk.

“Well, that makes the two of us.”

… What.

“What?” Ghost intelligently mutters.

Soap’s eyes widen, face not unlike a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

[Reason to cut: Soap wasn't supposed to admit that yet. He also wouldn't have done it in such a non-chalant way, with how heavy the guilt weighs on him.]

[Context: Chapter 10, where Ghost was showing his powers to the Vaqueros and Graves.]

The Captain’s voice fills his head, “field’s clear, go ahead Lieutenant.”

Ghost glances one last time at Soap’s figure, no more than a small speck, far, far away from him.

He closes his eyes. The warm air of Las Almas dissipates into the chill of Limbo.

He opens them, confused. The void is quiet, the residents of Limbo looking at the distance, calm and still. It reminds him of… before.

Ghost frowns, narrowing his eyes to try and see what caught their attention. There, a far away point flickers.

A small, white flame. Where… Soap was standing. 

Ghost blinks and stumbles back. Price instantly sounds in his mind, “Simon, what’s going on?!”

“I saw something there…” He makes eye contact with the Captain, who is now jogging towards him, Gaz and Soap behind him. “Light… from Johnny.”

It can’t be… how is Soap able to affect Limbo? Every single spiritulogist he met agreed on the fact he’s a sort of master over Limbo, that the realm is a manifestation he’s inseparably linked to.

The only thing others can do there, is die.

“What do you mean light?” Price urges on.

“A small flame. Where Soap was. The victims were all staring at it.”

The 141 members reach him, Johnny rushing to him, “are you alright?”

Ghost gapes at him, “you’re different. I’ve… changed you.”

Soap frowns, “what are ye on about?” he steps closer.

Ghost takes a step back, “stop.”

The Sergeant stills, a hurt expression flashing on his face before he schools his features.

Price invades his mind, “Simon, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down?! I fucked up Soap! I need to-”

The ladder patterns. Ghost turns around.

“SIMON RILEY”

“Reaper”, he exhales shakily.

“YOU’VE DOOMED YOURSELF. IT IS TOO LATE.”

“What are you talking about?!” Ghost screams, “you keep saying I’m gonna die, while Johnny keeps suffering!”

“I DO NOT CARE ABOUT OTHER REVENANTS, SIMON.”

The Reaper leans in to shriek in his ears, Ghost clutching his head uselessly.

“YOU ARE INTERTWINED.” 

Ghost cries from the pain. His Reaper does not falter.

“KILL HIM FIRST.”

His vision fades along with the Reaper’s words.

“Ghost! Fuck, someone get a medic” Someone shouts above him.

Another voice interjects, “he’s not injured, Sergeant. He’s with his Reaper.”

“From my experience, that doesn’t make me holler and pass out!”

A third person joins the conversation, “shut it! He’s waking up.”

Ghost groans and makes a move to rub his eyes, only to be stopped by his hard-shell mask. “Simon? You alright son?” Price asks, bringing the smell of fresh flowers and a soft bed to him.

He gets up (when did he lay down?) and mutters, “fine”. His voice hoarse from screaming. He takes in his team, the three of them concernedly crouch beside him, except Soap, who’s pacing around.

The Sergeant stops and eyes him warily. 

“My Reaper’s mad.” he says in lieu of explanation to the others.

Soap stops, and looks down at him, still avoiding his stare, “it’s because of me, isn’t it?”

He sighs, “when those arms started grabbing ye I thought it was gonna-”

“What arms?” Ghost gets up.

“The dark arms from the ground, don’t tell me you didn’t noti-”

Ghost grabs the front of Soap’s shirt, “you fuckin’ see them?!”

The Sergeant struggles against his iron tight grasp, “aye! Thought I was hallucinating last night, fuckers made a pass at me-”

Ghost pushes him away, “fuckin’ hell”. 

What the fuck is going on?! Nobody can see the victims outside of Limbo. It’s almost like…

“He has some of my powers…” Ghost whispers to himself.

But that’s not possible? 

[Reason to cut: chapter wasn't working out for me. Characters not reacting in character. Reaper not supposed to show up just yet, and what it says kinda repeats previous encounters.]

[Context: chapter 13, instantly after Rudy and Gaz confront Ghost on his relationship with Soap.]

What, do they think he and Soap are sleeping side by side every night, comfortably tangled under the thin sheets? That he warms himself on his Sergeant’s eternal flame, that Johnny brushes his charred, calloused fingers over his arms, his shoulders, his neck, chasing away the cold, inky grasp Limbo always has on him? That Ghost reciprocates, that he holds Johnny’s face softly, bringing them closer and closer until-

[Reason to cut: out of character. Ghost doesn't think about affectionate actions, he jsut does them. Too early in the story for him to express such wants.]

[Context: I don't remember honestly. Entire scene was cut. Might be later in chapter 13, before Graves threatens Ghost.]

He catches Alejandro pacing around the base one day, frowning and arguing with Rudy in Spanish. From what Ghost can pick up, it’s something about an American. He’s pretty damn certain which one.

“Vargas, any issues?” he stops him before the man pops a blood vessel.

Alejandro glances at him, scanning their surroundings for eavesdropping ears. “Come with me.”

The three enter the Vaquero Commander’s office, Rudy locking it behind them, “it’s about Graves.” Alejandro starts pacing again, “fucking gringo is ordering his shadows to collect intel on us.”

“What?” that’s a huge fucking development.

Rudy is quick to correct him, “we can’t prove anything. But yes… Graves knows more than he should.”

“He knows about secret tunnels we have under the base, and weapon stashes that not even Price knows about. We got fucking Shepherd trying to get us to use locations for the mission he shouldn’t even know exist.”

Ghost feels the tension climb up his spine, “what the fuck do you think he’s playing at?”

Alejandro exhales loudly, “whatever it is, [I didn't finish the sentence]

[Reason to cut: Decided that Vaqueros wounldn't suspect Graves, and he wouldn't risk his powers found by using Shadows to spy on them. Didn't like where the scene was directing the story.]

[Context: chapter 19, when Ghost asks Gaz for help with showing emotions with Soap. Gaz asks why can't he now.]

Garrick nods thoughtfully, “and what is it that stops you? Fear?”

Ghost clenches his teeth, this conversation feels like pulling them out one by one, “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Wasn’t saying that sir”, Gaz thrums on his boot, “could be rejection, or… shit. Of course.” he stares at Ghost, eyes soft.

“The fuck’s it?” he glares back.

Gaz releases his powers, standing up in front of him, “you need to get over your fear of feeling.”

[Reason to cut: out of character. Wouldn't confront emotions head on. Unnatural for Gaz to just state that, rather have it implied. Not where I wanted Ghost's mentality to go.]

[Context: no idea. Probably after Ghost sent Soap to Limbo, and he gained an immunity to it.]

“We don’t have to be afraid, Simon. You can’t hurt me anymore.” Johnny whispers

[Reason to cut: don't remember.]

Tumblr is starting to lag, which means this post is huge lmao. Again, thank you to each and every one of you! The response to the fic was amazing, I never expected my little revenant AU to turn into something this big!

I loved the experience of writing Not Alive, Nor Dead. You can certainly expect more from me in the future!

For now, I have to focus on uni, and after that I have a few ideas for comics I wanna do. Might make a few oneshots in between, but no big projects like this one just yet!

[badolmen]

Maybe Next Time

Inspired by @reds-skull's Revenant AU - please go check out their art its so goddamn cool.

He feels alive.

Which is a frighteningly alien sensation.

At first, Soap kept the caution of a living man, as though the next blast would kill him for good this time. The first suicide mission he bears with a grin – who else but him could survive it? It’s practically his obligation to die in the stead of soldiers who have no guarantee of getting up again.

The second suicide mission, the third, the fourth…he lost count of the times he felt shrapnel bite his bones and fire sear through his flesh. He bears it with a grin and a joke that no one laughs at – who else but him could survive it? He is a Revenant after all. It’s what he’s still here for.

Isn’t it?

Because if that’s all he lives for, to die for men who see him as a cheap flesh alternative to bomb robots, a tool to be used, bloodied, cleaned, then used again…

Then why does this mission make him feel alive?

In all his time with the SAS, Soap never met another Revenant. They are rare, and thus closely guarded. This one – only called “Ghost,” with not a picture in his file – doesn’t even have a description of his abilities. All Soap can glean from the single page file is that he’s a Lieutenant of a taskforce – the 141. Who they are and what they do is a mystery to him, but it’s not like he’s being recruited.

This is a joint mission, acquiring intel for the 141. He’s on loan, his abilities coveted for this mission given its circumstances. Who the hell guards intel with explosives? (Someone who would rather destroy it than let it fall into enemy hands.) The nature of the intel is kept from him, but he doesn’t mind. This is the most he’s known about a mission outside of ‘there’s a bomb’ in a long time.

He tries not to get his hopes up; this job is the same suicide mission he’s done a thousand times before. Infiltrate, locate intel, disarm or detonate the explosives, crawl back with whatever is left. But this time, he isn’t alone.

And that’s as terrifying as it is thrilling.

He feels alive for the first time since he died.

--

Soap decides he likes Ghost, even if the feelings aren’t mutual. The Sargeant’s attempt at levity during on-boarding is met with a muttered curse. (“Save you a seat, LT.” Ironic considering this is a two man mission and most of the helo is unoccupied.) The two review their mission brief on the flight to the drop location: three buildings to clear, intel in two. Enemy presence is shockingly low, but that’s to be expected considering they don’t know what’s coming. Besides, who needs soldiers when you have enough explosives to level a city block?

Drop off goes off without a hitch and immediately any expectations for a standard mission (as standard as Soap knows it) is chased away. Ghost uses the comms actively, almost to the point where Soap wonders for a moment if there are normal soldiers on this mission that he doesn’t know about. But he’s making call outs for Soap, letting Soap know when he clears a sniper, muttering what one might construe to be praise when Soap cleans out an entire level of a building while Ghost picked off the patrols.

“For an explosives expert you’re one hell of a shot.”

“Aye, glad to see I’m not too rusty. Used to clean up like this back in the day; why do you think they call me Soap?”

“Perhaps you need some.”

“Was that a joke LT?”

A flashbang catches the Sargent off guard, a quick curse and crack shot clearing the final enemy.

“Keep it tactical, MacTavish.” The words sting, but the faintest shimmer of amusement that crackles over the comm static has Soap sweeping to the second floor with a grin.

“Movin’ up, second floor Bravo-7.”

“Solid copy. I’m moving to building C.”

“Copy. Let me know if you need me.” To die for you the mission.

The sudden lack of response is almost deafening.

Soap knows when he isn’t wanted.

He knows well the pointed silence on comms, the curt order to keep it tactical when he tries to joke with the others on a mission. He has a keen eye for cold shoulders and stolen glances. The others on a mission know what he’s there to do. They know he will be torn apart, bloodied and burned so that their mission is successful. Something between a sacrificial lamb and Frankenstein’s monster. Something that isn’t spoken to, either out of pity or of fear.

There’s the rank difference, sure, but they’re from separate operations, so even if Soap is only a Sargent, the usual power dynamics aren’t at play. Part of him wants to indulge, to push and grab at whatever scraps of humanity he can get from the guy. Part of him is too scared there isn’t any left, not for him.

There is only grim silence as he takes down the final two enemies on the second floor. No intel on the second floor. Sweeping the first reveals a basement hatch, and Soap can feel his heart sink with every step into that dank cellar. The air is thick with the tang of gunpowder and practically humming with primed charges.

Soap suddenly feels out of place, creeping slowly, smoke grenade highlighting trip lines that he follows to disengage explosives. Most missions didn’t care how messy things got, so long as no one but him and the enemy got hurt. Going loud was less an option and more a standard he had gotten a bit too comfortable with. Here, taking it slow, focusing on every breath and movement, Soap is alive. There is a heady rush of adrenaline in his blood as he cuts wires and pries primed mechanisms to safety.

Between clearing tangos with a voice in his ear and setting aside disarmed charges, Soap is holding that bittersweet nostalgia of Before with both hands. Because if he fucks this up, it’s going to hurt. A lot.

Not to mention Ghost would see his fuck up. Soap isn’t sure why that idea bothers him so much, but he has a job to do, so he pushes it aside to focus on the frankly overcompensating amount of explosives.

(What was this, some comic book supervillain storage lair?)

(Well, maybe it kind of is – his own fingers are aflame, sparking against the metal housings of the laser projectors. What was that character called again? The human torch? Soap can’t remember if he merely burst into flames or exploded –)

Focus, MacTavish.

He’s half tempted to comm Ghost, just to see if the other will answer, just to see if he will be ignored. He can’t hear gunfire or explosions here in the cellar, but Soap assumes Ghost is having a bit more excitement than he is right now, taking care of tedious and boring bomb disarming.

He hisses, holding a housing too-tight in his palm as the metal warms and warps against his powers. He nearly dropped the red hot shell right on top of a charge. He needs to focus. This isn’t a loud mission and Reapers knew if Ghost realizes he would have to drag what was left of Soap back to base if things went tits up. The last thing they need is a Revenant falling into enemy hands.

(How would they use him? There’s no point killing such a powerful asset. Would he still be a glorified one-man bomb squad? Or would they put his powers to more sinister use -?)

Fucking focus, MacTavish. Ghost has probably finished clearing the other two buildings while you’re down here faffing about.

There are boots on the stairs. His hands are full of primed explosives.

“Freeze!” His heart sinks, the fire at his fingertips licking against the charges in hand. “Hands up, slowly.”

“Easy boys…” Soap hums, not moving his hands. If he drops the charge it will go off. If he raises his hands the tangos will see his fire and shoot for fear of him accidentally setting off the charge. Better to draw this out and maximize the casualties.

They filter into the cramped basement, weapons aimed at his head and flashlights sweeping the disarmed charges on the floor. Four tangos. Someone must have reported their earlier kills – no other reason for a full patrol unit to be walking around weapons primed.

Ghost is definitely having more fun than Soap is at the moment.

“Let’s be reasonable –”

“Shut up.” The order is punctuated with the muzzle of a rifle pressed under Soap’s chin. The adrenaline kicks in, thrill and terror mixing in crystallized euphoria. He could die here. Again, for good this time. His conditional immortality did not include point blank bullets to the face.

His Reaper wouldn’t be too happy about that.

The memory of fluttering insects and light so bright it burned and why he was sent back is like swallowing sun-warmed honey, sweet but cloying. He will not die here. It will hurt. But he’ll live. He always does.

“Bravo-2 how copy?” Ghost’s voice is sharp as it crackles from his radio. Before the tangos around him can use their own comms, Soap takes a step back, hands burning hot against the fragile charge as he pulls it to his chest. The swansong of igniting thermite and roaring fire is all he hears before the world around him is torn to shreds.

--

His Reaper hovers nearby, a buzz under his skin, buffering him against fire and shrapnel and rubble. If he doesn’t look too closely, he can see them in the cinders and smoke. Warm, golden insects the same color and temperature as the fire sparking at his fingertips. They flutter past, carried on the fumes and swirling air currents, fading out of view as his vision darkens.

Soap’s consciousness rises and falls like a weak tide, a few seconds of painful clarity defeated as blood loss and agony blur his thoughts and catch in his blood filled lungs. For so long it is awfully quiet. He can feel the slick of blood from burst eardrums running down his neck, but soon enough he can hear his gargled breathing and knows they’ve heal.

He can hear footsteps, or at least, he thinks they are footsteps. A voice – no, probably not a voice. Why would they be calling to him? They’re probably talking to someone else. They will pick him up when the mission is done. However long that took.

Christ, he is so fucking tired – he can feel his Reaper’s power surging through his body, coalescing around what he knows to be a bad puncture wound too adrenaline numbed to be felt. He just needs to clear it, at least enough to start healing, because replacing all of this blood is going to take weeks at this point.

Hands. Right, he has hands, he just needs to –

Feeling rushes back into his blood like a tidal wave, a full body shudder as his nerves burn back to life. His eyes snap open, burning in the smoke and welling with tears.

Steamin’ Jesus, he is going to be sick. And even though he hopes to pass out again, he knows he won’t.

Soap thought he would get used to it by now, the almost-death, the not-death he died when his heart stopped beating but his soul couldn’t leave. Dying the first time had been easy, practically painless. It’s the coming back that seems to get worse with every mission.

The strangled sound in his throat seems to garner some attention, footsteps echoing in the shadows – are his eyes still getting reconnected to his briefly deceased brain or is the smoke still that heavy?

“Ghost?” The name is garbled, croaking from his spasming throat. He can’t seem to get enough air, one lung collapsed and the other fighting remember how to breathe. His vision tunnels, a skull mask hovering in the near distance. It has to be Ghost – or maybe Soap is dead-dead this time, and death happens to have a sick sense of humor.

“Soap? Johnny where – oh fuckin’ hell.”

Soap writhes, trying to push himself off the rebar stake through his chest. He’s holding up the operation – Ghost probably needs him to take care of some other explosives –

He can’t fucking heal like this.

“Could – could use a – a – a hand here, LT.” Soap forces the words through gritted teeth. No use being a whiny cunt when it’s his own damn fault for taking so long with the charges.

“How can I help?”

Soap wants to laugh – he almost does, the muscles in his abdomen clenching and making the rebar impaling him burn hotter than any thermite. The whimper that crawls up his throat in response is strangled into a growl.

“Gettin’ me off this fuckin’ spike would be nice.” The frustration in his chipped voice is undercut by an apologetic warble as his breathing hitches. “Please, I cannae – I can’t heal like this.” He swallows back another mouthful of blood, the pressure of Ghost’s hands on his shoulders gentle compared to the fracturing agony pulsing from his injuries.

Part of him is glad there isn’t a countdown, the blinding pain forcing a pathetic whine from the back of his throat while he clamps his jaw shut hard enough for it to ache. The world fades gray, his vision blacking out as he feels Ghost set him down, a slab of cold concrete to his back. His Reaper’s power flushes into the gaping wound, a sob shuddering through him as he feels a bloom of healing fire flush through the injury.

He just needs to get his breathing under control; he needs to get it under control faster before Ghost – is Ghost already pissed at him? He’s at the very least annoyed – he sounded annoyed on the comms – his own comms were probably broken in the explosion. Fuckin’ hell he just got them replaced…

Christ, focus, MacTavish – quit being a little bitch and breathe and get up and –

“How long do you need?”

Soap cracks his eyes open, vision still spotted with stars but he focuses on the mask in front of him. Those coal brown eyes are...warm. Ghost is crouching in front of him, still waiting for his blood starved brain to string together a coherent response.

“Just – just a few more...a few more breaths. Dinnae worry I –” He winces, something in his chest snapping. He can feel bone fragments wriggling free from mangled flesh, piecing back together ribs. It takes a few quick breaths for him to work through the pain enough to continue speaking. “I’m fine. Not that bad – had worse. Really.”

Ghost doesn’t look convinced, but he turns to sit next to MacTavish, rifle across his lap.

“Take your time. Don’t have to worry about tangos for now.”

Soap finds himself staring and he can’t quite look away for fear that he is, actually, dead-dead and death just happens to have a sick sense of humor. But Ghost doesn’t fade away or explode into a swarm of golden butterflies dancing with the acidic warmth of his Reaper’s disappointment. Ghost just sits there, close enough to brush shoulders with as he scans the rubble around them.

Soap’s thoughts are swirling; he’s desperate to push his luck and lean against that steady presence, and frustrated that he is too distracted to focus on getting his breathing back. If this was a normal mission they would need him on his feet by now – if he wasn’t diffusing bombs, someone who could actually die, dead-dead, would be.

It’s almost a relief when Ghost rises to his feet, stalking across the crater’s debris. Almost. A selfish part of Soap wants to reach out and grab him back, just to know he’s still there.

“We – we can get going. Sorry for holding this up.” Soap pitches forward to follow, shaking hands braced against the ground with a groan as his vision swims. He needs to get up, follow Ghost, get to exfil, get back to base, and sleep for a fucking week.

The first step is always the hardest, right? Bracing against the concrete slab, he’s able to slide to his feet, shaky legs wobbling like a newborn deer as his vision flashes white with pain.

Get up. Check.

He waits a few breaths for his vision to come back, the bloody spoke of rebar he had been impaled on the first thing he sees. His halfhearted glare shifts, Ghost’s silhouette in the distance.

Follow Ghost. Check.

He could do that. One foot in front of the other. Don’t stop moving – except Ghost has stopped moving. Soap blinks down at the warped frame of a safe. Right. He has a job to do outside of blowing himself up.

“I got it.” He bites back sob as he drops back to the ground, the pain of rubble under his knees a grounding distraction. Soap holds his fingertips to the thick wall of the safe, metal sparking red then white under the intensity of his powers. Rotating his hand slowly, he’s able to create a near perfect circle, pulling away a chunk of the molten metal to open a window to the safe’s contents.

Soap sits back on his heels, melted iron running off his fingers as his powers dim. Blood is puddling below him, the wound in his side still gushing. If only he had been able to pull himself free before Ghost showed up, just a few extra minutes to heal.

“Good work.” He looks up at Ghost, who briefly inspects the hard drive he had fished from the safe’s interior. Soap blinks up at him as Ghost straightens where he knelt, silhouetted in starlight and lingering smoke. He blames blood loss for the bloom of warmth in his chest and the giddy smile sliding onto his face. Ghost’s eyes narrow, head nodding to his injury. “You need something for that?”

Soap opens and closes his mouth, choking on whatever he was going to say and exchanging it for a shaky laugh.

“Nah, nah – it’ll be fine. Eventually. Just – just gotta get back to base and rest up.” He rises to an unsteady half kneel, breathing too hard and too fast. The world spins, his vision graying out for a few faltering breaths.

Why did he laugh? It hurt so much worse now – was it bleeding more? As his nausea passes, Soap spots Ghost fishing a medkit from his pack. He halfheartedly swats it away.

“No – no, that’s for you. I’ll heal up without anything.”

“I’m stopping the bleeding and giving you some stims. I don’t feel like carrying your ass to exfil.” Soap slumps under Ghost’s unwavering stare, dropping back to the ground like a kicked dog. Ghost isn’t his CO – hell, he isn’t even sure if Ghost can pull rank seeing as they’re from separate operations – but he isn’t going to argue. Not with that tone; he’s already a burden to the mission as it is.

“Right...right, yeah. That – yeah.” His words are slurred, accent thickening as he mutters curses to himself. Pull it together MacTavish, you’ve had worse, you’ve walked through a minefield with worse, crawled to exfil without your legs with worse.

“Bloody hell MacTavish…” Ghost’s growl is almost a whisper as he lifts the hem of Soap’s shirt, baring the gory wound. He isn’t sure what stung more – the thread of disappointment in Ghost’s voice or the hemostatic bandages now secured on either side of his torso.

“Sorry.” His apology croaks unbidden from his throat. It isn’t like an apology will speed this up.

“Choices have consequences.” Ghost huffs as he wipes his bloodied gloves on his pants. “Don’t blow yourself up next time.”

For a split second he latches onto that. ‘Next time.’ He wouldn’t mind a next time. Or maybe he would – working with Ghost is…different than being assigned to various crews as the de facto bomb robot. He isn’t sure yet if different is better. Soap hums in agreement, wincing as a stimpack bites into his shoulder and a rush of wakefulness stirs in his blood.

“I was taking too damn long. Got caught.” He shrugs, either a flush of embarrassment or some color finally warming its way onto his cheeks. “Easier to take them down with me, seeing as I’m the one that can get back up.”

“Easier than waiting for me to help?”

“I’m an impatient guy.” Soap hisses, the injury still stinging as he pushes back to his feet. “Can we go now? I’m right as rain.” He wobbles on his feet, not impressing Ghost as he holds an arm to his side, keeping pressure on the wound. Ghost heaves a sigh, starting towards exfil without another word.

Climbing out of the crater is the hard part, but Soap can bite his tongue and push through the blinding white hot agony of reaching and climbing over debris. The bandages are soaked through in minutes, seals broken by the agitating movements. He makes sure to keep behind Ghost, partly to keep the still substantial blood trail he’s leaving out of sight and out of mind.

That doesn’t mean his too-loud, hollow breathing is something the other soldier will continue to ignore.

“Do you need a break?” The question is paired with a gentle glance, so foreign to Soap after so long on the receiving end of snappy COs and stressed soldiers. He doesn’t respond, wide eyed and panting with a hand on the wall for stability. The softness in Ghost’s eyes flickers, something shadowy in their depths.

“…‘m fine.” Soap finally manages to grit out, breaking eye contact and stumbling forward. He nearly yelps when Ghost snags his right arm, powers flickering from his fingertips as the Ghost pulls the arm over his shoulder. “Careful – I’ll – my hand…”

“I’m not afraid of a little fire, MacTavish.”

The Ghost straightens, helping support Soap’s weight as the pair shamble forward. This close there’s no hiding his pained breathing, the way every other step sends stars sparking behind his eyelids as the agony ripples through him like a wave. They’re moving even slower now, the empty compound eerily silent and still save for their limping procession toward the exfil point.

“What’s got two legs and bleeds?” Soap almost doesn’t realize the question is meant for him, blinking blearily up at the Ghost.

“Me?” He isn’t sure if it’s a joke at first, blood starved brain struggling to parse the tone of the question. But Ghost glances down at him, eyes crinkled to crescents. Is he smiling?

“Half a dog.”

Soap’s bark of laughter tapers with a groan, a fresh flush of blood as his wound wept from the outburst.

“I hate dogs, but that’s fuckin’ brutal.”

“What you have against dogs?”

“Rabid bitch bit me.” Soap tilts his head up, baring the pale pink scar under his chin. A scar from when his body remembered every near-death experience. Now he’s had too many to count and nothing to show for them. “Rabies shots fuckin’ suck.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ghost’s voice rumbles like thunder, a hum of contemplation in his chest. “That before or after?” The event in reference is left unsaid, a haunting shimmer of his Reaper’s golden glow still mending his broken flesh.

“Before.” Soap bites out the word, hissing in pain as he trips, Ghost keeping him from falling flat on his face as they keep moving forward. “Since you’re learnin’ so much about me, I’ve got a question for you: what’s with the mask?”

Ghost stiffens, almost imperceptibly under Soap’s arm, but his silence as they continue walking speaks volumes. Something in Soap’s chest aches at the lack of response, aside from the still reorganizing lung tissue and rib bones. It’s too much like being ignored on comms on normal missions.

“Bet you’re ugly.” He bites his tongue hard enough to taste fresh blood the second after the words fall from his lips.

“Quite the opposite actually.” Ghost’s response is smooth, a hum of amusement loosening his tensed shoulders. What has Soap done to deserve this stranger’s good graces? He’s tempted to push, to take all he can before it inevitably blows up in his face. It isn’t like they’re going to be seeing each other anytime soon; he can risk burning a bridge built to be temporary.

“Prove it.” Soap’s voice lilts with a friendly challenge. “Take off the mask.”

“For you, MacTavish…” Ghost pauses, reaching towards his face and – playfully tapping the hard shell skull of his mask. “Not a chance. Maybe next time.”

Next time. Soap would like a next time. But as helo blades drone overhead and Ghost’s comms crackle to life with two separate COs asking for sitreps, he sighs and sags against his fellow Revenant.

Reapers knew if their teams would ever work together again, let alone have the two pair up as they had for this mission. But there’s a spark of something other than power and fire in his chest. For the first time in a very long time, he feels he has something to hope for.

Next time.

[agentrouka-blog]

Hello! As a person who hasn’t read the books, how true is it that Arya avenges her family like she did in the show? ‘tell them the north remembers’ because a while ago I read that the Lannisters and Freys had difficulties as a result of the red wedding, they were seen as traitors of guest rights, if Arya plays them with the same coin, wouldn’t she be staining the reputation of the north and affecting it more than helping? From what I know, Arya’s arc is about what justice is, but taking revenge isn’t so...

Hi there!

In the books, 11-year-old Arya is still firmly entrenched on another continent as a Faceless Men apprentice, while the character of Lady Stoneheart (resurrected zombie Catelyn) is commiting vengeful atrocities in the Riverlands. So we cannot make full canon statements on the subject. Yet.

(Arya is very much also engaging in vengeful murder, though, so her vengance-v-justice arc is very much a work in progress!)

The show, unfathomably, erased Lady Stoneheart and thereby a big chunk of Arya's storyline upon her return to the continent of Westeros. Because between the two of them, Catelyn and Arya have plenty of foreshadowing in the books for a confrontation with House Frey, cooking-related twists and surprises and serious examinations of what marks a way forward: vengeful destruction or mercy.

Considering her mom is already a murderous revenant, Arya is likely the one to a) give her peace, b) turn her back on destruction, and c) choose life and cooperation, even if it feels less satisfying. Basically, the opposite of what the show presented.

Since the show erased that entire arc and also had neither motivation nor imagination enough to create an alternative path toward the same conclusion, they instead went ahead and gave Arya a mix of Wyman Manderly's Frey Pies and Lady Stoneheart's vengeance rampage - and decided to make it look like a badass cool move.

Her reunion with her mother and contemplation of alternatives to killing got a subtle nod through her interactions with the actess Lady Crane in her Braavos arc before she escapes the Faceless Men. But that, too, ultimately only served as a prelude to Arya's doing parcour through the city and then fighting the Waif and winning. Because her arc was all about fighting skills and none of that boring internal struggle stuff.

I... harbor a lot of latent rage for a lot of things the show did.

I am a hater.

Sorry.

[bewitchedleague]

When someone asks when's the marriage with Bloodhound, Crypto, Octane and Revenant.

a/n; a simple, yet cute concept as the legends ponder about the question.

Bloodhound

    It didn't surprise Bloodhound when they were eventually the subject of their taunting because teasing wasn't uncommon among the legends, especially from Fuse or Loba when it came to tease others about their love partners. They didn't mind because neither legend ever said anything inappropriate and kept it in check, but when the question was so casually posed to them, they became paralyzed. Marriage? It wasn't unfamiliar to Bloodhound; they had occasionally expressed an interest in asking for your hand in marriage but had never given the matter any thought—at least not before tonight. They would dismiss both legends with a single statement and a laugh coming through their voice changer, saying that they needed some quiet time to reflect. Although they didn't have a certain date in mind for their wedding, they would frequently daydream about the specifics and how to make it ideal for the two of you. Only their thoughts would cause them to feel the heat quickly rise to their cheeks as they struggled to control the giddy sensation they were experiencing.

“Marriage?... Perhaps one day, do not worry. I’ll invite both of you.”

Crypto 

    Lifeline asked him what would have been the most absurd question possible while he was droning. She would be able to see the flatter of the drone's movement if she was looking at it, which would demonstrate how surprised and flustered Crypto was by her question. He would look at her with a flush on his cheeks, ashamed at how easily he could lose his cool over something as basic as a question. He would nearly mumble an answer before lowering his voice and turning away from a bewildered Lifeline.Even though he appeared calm on the inside, Crypto had an undeniable soft spot for you that everyone knew about just by looking at his flushed face when you were around. As a result, the man would grow impatient throughout the rest of the match because his mind wouldn't stop overanalyzing the question. That's presumably what prompted Lifeline to ask him; did she anticipate him proposing to you? Did she want to go to the wedding? You didn't even want to marry him, did you? He couldn't get his thoughts to stop racing, and he returned home with a simple straight forward question.

"Will you marry me? No, not right now! I was wondering... maybe in the future."

Octane

    Octane would think about marrying you on a daily basis. Everything he could have ever imagined was there, including his entire family, your family, and this enormous, extravagant, magnificent wedding with innumerable decorations, food, and friends. When he thought about it, he could feel adrenaline rushing right through his veins; he needed to run or do something else to burn off the energy the thought had given him. He would run off without responding, leaving the person who asked him staring at him in confusion. He would give you a huge bear hug the moment he saw you and then be overly attached to you for the rest of the day. Would go on and on describing what had occurred, who had asked the question, when it had been asked, where it had been asked, and every single aspect of his day before the question. After that, he would go on about the wedding preparations he had already made in his head and seek your advice on what to wear and the style of the wedding  you should have. Praying inside that you would say an extravagant wedding.

“Mi amor, mira! Can you imagine? Me, you and all our children - ... I know we don’t have children yet but just imagine!”

Revenant

    A silent, menacing stare was directed towards the questioner. Even Revenant was taken aback by the bravery and audacity with which someone dared to ask him that. His responses would be a scoff as he simply turned around and walked away without saying a thing. Revenant wanted to get married when he was still a human, but after becoming a simulacrum, he was nearly nothing like the person he once was. He had believed that there was little hope of achieving the human life he had always wanted. He pondered about wedding rings and becoming legally yours after this incident—not that he didn’t consider himself already yours.For the rest of the day, Revenant would keep staring at you, leaving you to wonder what was wrong with your less-than-loving lover since when you inquired, he would just turn away and act as though you had just offended him. Can't force himself to ask you because he is so terrified of receiving rejection from you. It would break his heart to learn that you didn't see him as a lifelong companion. At the end of the day, just blurts it out quickly while sounding hostile, but only because he has been thinking about it constantly.

“Would you marry something like me?”

Do not copy or translate my works.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

The meeting of the four revenants

David/Dwayne/Paul/Marko x fem!reader

warning : tiny comfort, war, blood and injury mild, no use of Y/n

Summary : The four vampires from Santa Carla are a group that goes back a long way, but what if you look back…to the century when they themselves got the bite of death and took their first victim?

Info : So this little based on the wonderful hc from @williamprattz I love the gifs and check out the blog also the four posts @misslavenderlady made on the backstory are excellent. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David : The castle of the king great, far under the rule of Henry the eighth a man feared by many for various reasons but especially for the fear of the women at court whether his wives or the highborn ladies who had to stay here as "honor" without the protection of their husband…especially her without a husband.

Sitting in the wooden chair, the dark dress on her body showing that she was grieving even though this protection would not last much longer.

Looking at the fire it disgusted her to imagine how the king could simply force her. ,,Have mercy god i beg you" she murmured praying again and was about to reach for the scriptures when she heard a noise outside.

She saw the footsteps of a man stumbling and someone who seemed to be in pain cautiously approaching the small window and she saw the silhouette of a man on the castle walls below her window. That's Ser David she thought, recognizing the blond hair and dark clothes of the young knight who had recently won the tournament, outstanding leadership skills.

Lifting her dress slightly to get down the stairs faster, she scurried past the torches, trying not to run into the guards, and arrived with difficulty on the castle wall. ,,Ser David," she said anxiously and saw the man, only a year older than her, leaning against the cold, stony castle wall.

His breathing was heavy and yet barely recognizable, his face contorted in pain and confusion, and she let out a startled sound when she saw the blood on his neck.

Before his blue eyes, cold as winter, settled on her, ,,My lady, you startled me…you-you shouldn't be out here at this late hour," he murmured, straightening up with difficulty and threatening to topple over before she supported him, his bloody hand clutching her dress and staining her hand as she slowly propped him to the ground.

,,Don't say that, my David, your wound is that a bite?" she asked, not realizing how close she was to him, how worried she was, her heart beating fast as she tried to call for help…not wanting the man she truly loved to be taken from her.

But just as she was about to rise, he grabbed her hand almost painfully and pulled her back to him, wrapping his bloody hands around her, seeming to press himself against her warm body. ,,One bite was enough" he murmured and she didn't understand was it a bite that had made him so weak?

Was he talking about a beast? Turning her head slightly, she was about to ask him when she was startled to see cold blue eyes looking at her, a mouth hiding sharp fangs and the bite of a revenant, a monster of the night.

Letting his name slip from her lips to plead with him, it was too late as the vampire's teeth bared into her neck more inexperienced than his lord, searching for blood for his victim…for a victim he perhaps hoped to convert out of love so as not to walk alone in infinity, blood staining the moon and the young undead knight disappearing with the highborn lady.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dwayne : The year 1650s under the reign of the Habsburg Emperor Ferdinand the third spread of power, conspiracies and marriages. A time of faith a time of faith in monasteries in which, alongside the numerous monks and nuns, there was also a young woman among the holy sisters of faith.

In the cool room behind the thick stone, she lay on her straw bed unconscious and not tired, thinking about the day, the bed, the food, the planting of herbs in the gardens and the reading from the Bible…and him.

Sin in the eyes of the others, but they needed him, the merchant who supplied them with goods they could not get for themselves in the cooler months.

Tall, silent, long black hair and his dark engaging eyes. Thoughts that made her own sin and she pulled the blanket from her body and stood up, still dressed in her dark uniform, to go out.

Wanting to go to bed, wanting to turn to the flowers, wanting to calm down. As she walked out across the hope, she saw behind the clouds that the sun was already rising, a beautiful moment that was interrupted by a crash.

She listened attentively to the sounds coming from the small storeroom where the garden tools, baskets and seeds for the herbs were kept. ,,An animal?" she asked herself and plucked up her courage to go towards it and the closer she got, she heard heavy breathing, pained noises and more noises.

,,God help me," she murmured, making a criss-cross movement before she opened the door and almost screamed when she saw him dart out of the darkness.

His cool hand gripped hers and he pulled her into the storeroom. ,,Dw-Dwayne what are you doing here?" she asked in confusion, smelling something like burning besides earth and stone but no fire seemed to be burning or was it coming from outside.

His dark eyes were on hers, she saw how tense he was when he didn't let go of her. ,,Sorry for breaking in…you shouldn't be here…not with me" he mumbled seeming to want to turn away from her but wincing painfully his shirt which was under his coat as far as she could see seemed burnt, his skin smelled burnt and his face was sore saying more than she needed to know.

,,I'll help you" came faster than it should have, she wanted to pull him out of the room, wanted to heal him, wanted to have him with her but he wouldn't let her instead he pulled her in for a hug she only saw his gaze for a moment but he was full of determination.

She saw in the distance that the sun was slowly rising, it hurt him and she mumbled a ,,Forgive me but I just need this my dear" she felt him almost leaving an apologetic kiss on her neck before her scream echoed in the room as his teeth sank into her neck.

She had invited the devil into the monastery and he had gone out of the sacred halls with her to devour her soul and take her with him to hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paul : America a land of aspiration, of ideas and innovation, a land of violence and weapons, a land that boomed with the industrial revolution, a land that had dark alleys and corners, a land that was full of dreams, a land of immigrants who came on steamships, a land that was home to everything and everyone.

A land that saw the end of many groups and a land that under high industrialization became something that hardly anyone had seen before. A country that was a home for travelers, a home for a young woman who traveled across the states on the newest train in her own compartment.

A modern train with lights and technology that still seemed new, a train that would take her to her destination, but also a train that was noisy. The noises of the night and the shining kept her awake and she decided to go on a little journey of her own through the train even if she needed the sleep because of her new job as a librarian and yet what did a little walk do?

Leaving her compartment and saying hello to a few waiters and others who were on their way to the bathrooms or returning from the bar in the dining car, she got closer and closer to the end of the train.

The last compartment was the one where the suitcase and luggage, which was too big for the compartment, were already on their way back, when she suddenly heard a rattling and banging noise as if the luggage had fallen over.

Not that it was of any concern to her, but the thought that her books, documents and important files might crumple made her a little nervous.

Putting her hand on the handle, she went into the compartment and saw in the swinging light that not only one suitcase had fallen over, but apparently the entire back row, the row where her suitcase was. ,,Hello? Is anyone there?" she asked into the semi-darkness, hoping that an employee was here to take care of it, otherwise she would have had to fetch one.

But when she noticed a movement among the suitcases, she hurried away. What if someone was under there? hurt? or worse? "Is that someone…please miss," she heard a male voice from under the luggage and she began to remove it as quickly as she could.

She looked underneath and after the perosn could make out the blond tangled hair, she saw the beautiful expression and yet a smile on his lips. ,,Thank you dear miss…you are my savior he said and slowly rose with her help before she could ask what had happened she was startled when she saw the blood on his neck.

,,You're hurt wait here" she said and pulled out her white cloth to stop the bleeding slightly but instead he grabbed her hand and gave her an almost suggestive look through the pain. The worry she had felt turned to fear but that look seemed like something else.

,,That's all right, darling, I just need this," he replied and she felt him snatch the cloth from her hand and pull it towards him, the pain starting from her neck and slowly staining the cloth on the floor with blood.

The unknown traveler disappeared into the darkness and another woman on a train journey to a new land vanished, leaving only the bloody cloth behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marko : War and death and suffering are concepts that were part of the everyday life of the population. The soldiers at the front, the suffering starving population, the perishing groups and the nurses and paramedics who lay at the front and in the hospitals. It was a time when people were dying and dying every day.

A time of blood and death, a time when everyone was fighting for their lives and they almost blocked out the screams they could no longer see. The field bed in the medical tent, which was more bad than good, stood on the muddy ground that was only sporadically covered with stone.

They were not completely at the front and yet every moment seemed to be the last, of which the blood on her apron was just one. ,,How much longer can this go on?" she asked herself, as she did every day, and put the medicines back in the boxes, which were already too few, but she had to carry on.

Giving up was not an option, they either had to win and that was the best solution or lose and they were all doomed, but that couldn't happen. However, she wanted to at least get some rest and go to the small compartment with the sisters and lie down on the cot.

Just for a moment, closing her eyes, she heard it…that sound…the sound of pain and suffering. But from whom? An enemy or the ally?

She didn't know and so her hand automatically reached for her first aid bag and took a lamp and, even though she hated it, a pistol. Neither practiced nor ever killed anyone but who knows who it was. She took one last look back and stepped out of the tent, looked around in the dark and saw the person crawling out of one of the trenches.

Holding the lamp in front of her, she saw with some reassurance that it was one of the uniformed Italians. ,,Hold out," she shouted as loudly as she could without raising the alarm and rushed over to the injured man who was on the ground and struggling to regain his strength. ,,Wait here, I'll help you? What happened? Where have you gone?" she asked, turning off the lamp and helping him to lie on the floor as best she could.

But as far as she could see, he only seemed to be injured in the neck, which was dangerous but not necessarily fatal. ,,Thank you my angel," he murmured and even though she knew that for many she was an angel of death or the angel of healing, he wasn't supposed to die, the bite-like injury didn't seem deep enough for that.

,,It's all right, everything will be all right again," she said and turned to her bag to take out the compress and the bandage when she saw him suddenly sit up as if he wasn't in pain, as if he had found something new and that look in his eyes, that look that looked like a hundred things, frightened her.

His hand stopped her from putting the bandage around his neck where the compress should have been. ,,Everything will be all right now," he replied, stifling her protests and questions by biting into her neck and pulling her down into the ditch with him.

In this blood-red night, he only left behind her bag in which the bandage and compress were still missing and were never meant to heal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[plzfeedmebread]

Revenant - Prologue

word count: 940

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: None

Chapter Summary: You are called in by your Handler to discuss something important.

[Masterlist] - [Next Chapter]

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Year 2144.

You fidget nervously with the frayed ends of your black dress. Though the mission was a success, and the target eliminated with no casualties, things did not happen as smoothly as they could have. There is no doubt in your mind this will come up in the report. And so close to reviews too.

Fuck.

Never has riding the elevator to the 47th floor felt longer. You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning your forehead against the cool glass. It does little to sooth you. You focus on the expansive vista of the city. Well deep into the night, the city still thrums with life. A sea of neon lights disappears into the horizon. Smog wafts its way through the tops of buildings, laying itself thickly upon the air. The city disappears as the elevator breaches the clouds.

You push yourself from the glass, facing the doors just as the elevator comes to a stop with a resonant ding.

Your face is neutral and your gait confident as you step forth, making your way through the lobby. Miss Halliday, the concierge, stands ready at the front desk.

“Agent Bloodthorn. A pleasure as always.” Her smile brings you a measure of comfort, sweet honeyed voice a balm to your nerves.

“Ophelia, good evening. Busy tonight?” You make light conversation, as you always do. You hand her the blood coin.

“No busier than usual mam.” She opens her mouth to speak further, but pauses, bringing her hand up to her ear. “Ah. The Handler will see you now. Suite 3 if you please.”

You give her a short nod and set a brisk pace to the suite in question. The sounds of your heels as you walk down the marbled hallway reverb far too loudly for your liking. All too quickly do you stand before the deep mahogany door. Your hand reaches for the golden handle and you enter with one fluid motion. There is no need to knock when you are expected.

Soft gold paints itself along the walls and furnishings from the lit fireplace. The floor to ceiling window at the end brings in the natural silver light of the moon. Your Handler stands at the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the city below; it would be beautiful on a cloudless night.

“Agent! A resounding success tonight my dear!” He turns to you, arms spread in congratulatory fashion.

“T-thank you, Handler!” Your body stiffens involuntarily at the praise, and you nervously pick at your ruined garment.

“Come now, [Y/N]; even after all these years, you’re still at it with the formalities with me. I’ve known you for nearly a decade and a half now child; I practically raised you!” He laughs heartily as he teases you.

“Sorry James, force of habit, haha…”

He invites you to sit in front of him; a singular leather chair awaits you. As you sit, so too does he, a large wooden desk separating you two. Fluidly he retrieves two crystal classes, a bottle of dark liquid you’re sure you won’t like. He pours you half what he pours himself, wordlessly placing the drink closer to you.

You nod in thanks, taking the glass in hand. With practiced movement, you gently swirl the liquid, giving it an experimental sniff. Where you take a small sip, James downs the contents in one gulp. You let out a small cough and return to the glass to the desk.

“On to business then.” He pulls out several manila folders. “Despite what you might think, the reason we called you in Agent, isn’t to discuss your mission tonight.” You sit up straight when he says this, leaning forward as you watch him unwind one folder.

“A new contract came in while you were out. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ll want to be a part of this.”

He places the open folder in front of you. Your eyes skim over the words. Avatar Program. Pandora.  

“This is…”

“Correct. Word through the network is your brother Tom’s been scouted by Grace Augustine herself. Should start his training next year.”

You had heard as much. Sweet Tom spoke animatedly about Grace and her work. He was so excited to start training, and even more excited to put his PhDs to work on the alien world.

“As it were, you won’t be needing any physical training. With your natural prowess, we believe you will be able to master piloting your avatar in no time; gain experience on the go as it were.”

“M-my own avatar? You’re giving me one of these?? Don’t they cost, billions, to make?!” You can’t help raising your voice, but you saw the numbers as you skimmed the file. Those were a lot of zeroes.

James smirks at you with a shake of the head.

“Leave the financial worrying to me Agent; that’s not your job.”

You let out a defeated sigh, but acquiesce nonetheless. You read further. The file goes on about the local clan of natives, the Omatikaya. It covers the basics of their governing structure, touching lightly on the culture. It speaks of the relationship formed by Grace, but also their inherent distrust of the RDA.

James places another folder in front of you. There is a polaroid; two blurry figures, one circled in red. You can at least make out that they are natives, both men, presumably.

“Your mission agent, is to eliminate this man.” He taps an index finger on the circled figure.

“Who is that?” You tilt your head as you try to make out the features of the man.

“That my dear, is Eytukan; the Clan Leader.”

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[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Harrowhark Nonagesimus

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The legend herself. I still love her so much.

I also have some questions, and some answers. This is gonna be a long one.

How did she open the tomb?

I puzzled over this for most of the book. Always assumed that John was lying when he said it was impossible - but then again, Gideon was around, so did she get Gideon's blood somehow? Or was it something else?

The proof was right here - right after John was revealed to be Gideon's dad:

It was worse when I was a kid. I remember the time you caught me telling her, I love you, and I can’t even remember what you said, but I remember that I had you on your back—I put you straight on the fucking ground. I was always so much bigger and so much stronger. I got on top of you and choked you till your eyes bugged out. I told you that my mother had probably loved me a lot more than yours loved you. You clawed my face so bad that my blood ran down your hands; my face was under your fucking fingernails. When I let you go you couldn’t even stand, you just crawled away and threw up. Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven? Was that the day you decided you wanted to die?

Harrow was ten; she had Gideon's face under her fingernails. Harrow opened the blood ward when she tried to kill herself. This makes a lot of sense. Mystery solved.

Is Harrow actually insane? Is the Body more than a hallucination?

Simply put: No, and yes. The Body is the manifestation of Alecto herself. She hitched a ride with Harrow's body when Harrow opened the tomb. She's been "haunted" by Alecto, the same way she was haunted by Wake for most of HtN.

I realised that this must be the case when I read this, after Harrow tries to kiss Alecto's ghost on the mouth.

As though you had crossed no boundary, and above the soundless rough shouting in your ears, the Body said: “I have to go away for a while,” and you regretted everything. “I have done wrong,” you said. There was the tiniest suggestion of a furrow in that cool unbreathing brow, and she said, “How?”

Alecto isn't upset that Harrow kissed her. She simply has to go away for a while. I thought about this. I read it as upset in my first read, but now it doesn't feel that way at all. "As though you had crossed no boundary", questioning why Harrow would think she'd done wrong. Alecto isn't upset at the kiss. She just has to go do Important Alecto Business.

Harrow interacts with Alecto throughout HtN. The Body is always there, until it isn't. Picking up on what we learned about Revenants from Wake, Harrow is haunted by Alecto in the same way. Dulcie, in the bubble, confirmed that she could sense someone other than Wake. Alecto came forward to Gideon when Harrow's sternum was shattered, her tomb was empty in Harrow's final vision.

Alecto isn't a revenant. She may not even be a ghost. Some essence of her, however, managed to cling to Harrow and infiltrate her mind. Alecto's powers must be strong - did she have enough of a connection with Harrow to adhere to her body? Wake needed Harrow to die to come forward - Alecto may have no such limitations. She's there, in Harrow's peripheral vision, most of the time. I don't think she had the limitation of needing that connection. Anyone or anything would do, hence the locked in an ice cave behind a million wards. Not exactly a revenant, as Alecto's body is almost certainly still alive, but an ability to cast her spirit and let it cling on to something, anything that moved in there.

Is Harrow actually insane? Well, on one hand, yes. She's Harrow, after all. She's had to live with what she thought were hallucinations all her life. She's been hearing things like the Secundarius bell and doors closing/banging as well, which might also be Alecto's input - some sound comes in even through the ice?

Alternatively, well, Harrow has 200 souls inside her, from the kids that were killed. (How did the Ninth, a house of mostly decrepit elders, get 200 children anyway?) Those kids will have left some kind of mark on her soul, and they all would have heard the bell and doors during their short lives. Maybe it's just a reflection of this.

This means that the hallucinations we've seen Harrow have, are all likely caused by souls hitching a ride with Harrow. Wake, Alecto, the unnamed 200.

Doesn't mean Harrow hasn't been hearing things and seeing things that were ostensibly not there, though. All throughout her entire life! That kinda stuff would drive anyone a bit mad.

Mind you, Cytherea under her bed was absolutely real. Ianthe took advantage of Harrow's vulnerability in that moment.

I'm still convinced that Ianthe is with Eden in some way. Eden came to Canaan House first, retrieved Camilla, Coronabeth and Judith, along with part of Palamedes's skull. Cytherea somehow managed to call BoE to the scene before she died. Harrow wiped some memories - maybe she strategically also wiped this memory? I really wanna know what happened at this point in the story.

Okay well I think it's time to talk about what and who we know.

>> Next: Ianthe, Coronabeth and the Blood of Eden