#there's a storm but it's a metaphor

[originalartblog]

pamper tiny chuuya tooo pleaseeeee (also can i see tiny verlaine and rimbaud) 🙏

I tinified them :)

[majorstumbles]

Wolverine is an interesting name for Logan.

While he is somewhat feral and hairy, yes, that’s not enough to go off of when Scott and the Professor stumble on him in those woods. Another trait of a wolverine is that they are easily domesticable. Easily tamed, in a way. Xavier took one look at Logan, who was broken and scared, invaded his mind to shape it how he saw fit, and named him after one of the most tamable wild species. And even still in the X-Men, he is shamed for his animalistic instincts. He is expected to be tame and civilized, is expected to be domesticated like many wild animals people bring into their homes. And when he acts on these less desirable instincts, he is cast out, in a way. When he lashes out, whether in some sort of courtship- much like a wolverine- or because of overstimulation, he is scorned and tosses aside until he is ‘presentable’ or docile. He is fundamentally deprived of the pack activities from the very animal he is named after, and is just expected to be okay. He is expected to discard these instincts, and yet he is named after the very thing these instincts resemble. He is used as a work animal, sent into dangerous situations like a canary in a cave, only to be retrieved and saved if someone may be fond of him- like someone may be fond of a pet. Logan is presented as an animal, and is yet expected to act like a man.

Anyways, Scott/Storm/Wade is the white lady who takes one look at a traumatized fight dog, goes ‘oh, buppy’, and has that thing spoiled in a week.

[cozylittleartblog]

diversity win your spam emails are queer

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about Tommy ending up at HARBOUR and getting to be his true and full self. Now he’s doing the same for Buck - providing him with a harbour - a safe space for him to find himself and figure things out.

The water theming continues to send me spiralling

[fictionadventurer]

This world is our ship and not our home, but also sailing ships are the setting for the ultimate coolest stories, so maybe enjoy the adventure while we're here.

[musclesandhammering]

Still waiting on someone to explain why Wanda is “The Harbinger of Chaos”, the “Chaos Queen”, and her magic is called “Chaos Magic” when she literally has nothing to do with chaos. Like.. nothing. No symbolism, no philosophical connection, no plotline. Literally nothing lmao. Could’ve just called her the queen of sunsets or some shit, it would’ve made as much sense 😒.

[thekidsare-not-alright]

thinking about how tttyg was kinda the calm before the storm, if you will. and how futct was them entering the storm, ioh and folie in the thick of it, and then at long last, the hiatus in the eye of the storm. and then they entered it again, this time having already braved it once before, from srar to the harsher end of mania. and smfs is them finally being free of the storm altogether. they still went through it, the storm is still around, but they're in calmer seas now, following the wind currents wherever they want

[mamawasatesttube]

11 timkon for the devotion ask 😁

11. “I’ve already died once. I would do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe.”

also prompted by @blueforget-me-not, @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write, and @chaoxfix !! (phew this one's popular!)

"Absolutely not."

"Tim—"

Tim whirls on him, glaring. "You," he hisses, jabbing one finger into the S-shield on Kon's chest, "are vulnerable to magic. That thing," and he points at the unnatural, glowing storm raging outside, "is full of insanely powerful magic that could fucking kill you. You're not fucking going."

Kon's jaw is set in that infuriatingly stubborn way of his; the glint in his eyes is nothing short of mulish. "Somebody has to get to the middle to stop that wizard freak. It's only gonna get worse if we don't do anything. And Cassie's already hurt. I'm going."

Not for the first time, Tim curses his own vulnerability. Curses that he's the best pilot among the four of them. Curses that the storm is raging too fiercely to just leave the plane on autopilot. Kon is determined to throw himself into harm's way, and Tim can't even come with him.

He turns back to the controls, glances at the anemometer; the wind is still rising. Ominous purple lightning crackles across the clouds all around them. The image of Kon flying down towards the sorcerer only to get struck from the sky by three hundred million volts of magic flashes through Tim's mind; it takes more self-control than he'd like to admit to not flinch.

"Cassie's hurt because she already tried confronting him directly, alone." At least his voice comes out steady, if a bit taut. "You think it'll go better if you do it instead?"

Another lightning strike shoots by, so close it nearly knocks the plane from the sky. As it is, everything outside goes bright white and the sensors scream; by the time Tim wrests the plane back under control, they've dropped five hundred feet, and he can see the churning, frothy waves down below.

Shit.

"At the very least, I can distract him while you find a place to land safely," Kon says, ever-so-graciously not rising to the bite in Tim's voice. "'Cuz you're talking a big game about me getting killed, but it looks to me like just trying to fly out here is probably gonna get you killed. And I mean, I've already died once. I'd do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe."

It would have been kinder if he just punched Tim in the gut.

For a moment, he can't breathe; panic and hurt and fury and terror all sweep through him in an excruciating rush, and his grip tightens on the throttle so hard it hurts.

"Really?" he hears himself say, lashing out in automatic self-defense. He hates this, hates fighting with Kon, hates what he's about to say because he knows it's cruel, but he can't stop himself in time as the words pour out. "You'd put me through the survivor's guilt and the grief and everything you know I went through once already, a thousand times over? Didn't know you had that kinda viciousness in you." He laughs humorlessly. "Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sounds of beeping sensors and the howling wind. For a moment, Tim is terrified Kon has just vanished, thrown himself into the heart of the storm without another word—

But then warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders and chest, and Kon's cheek presses against his hair, and Tim can breathe again. Kon is leaning over the back of his chair and just holding him, and Tim can breathe.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Rob," Kon murmurs. His breath against Tim's ear sends a shiver down his spine. "But I... you're right. I shouldn't have said... I mean, I... well, we can—we can talk about all that later. Right now, let's just..."

"Sorry." Tim takes one hand from the yoke to lay it over Kon's wrist, just for a moment. His heart is still thundering in his chest, a mirror of the storm outside; he doesn't need to ask to know whether Kon knows. "I didn't mean it. You're not—you're the kindest person I know."

"Tim." Kon holds him a little tighter. "It's okay, dude. Let's just focus on getting outta here for now, yeah?"

Getting out of here. Not confronting the sorcerer. Tim sucks in a breath. They do need to get Cassie some medical help, and some time to strategize can't hurt. Hopefully, he won't grow too powerful before they can double back and take him out.

"Okay," he says, and rubs his thumb over the pulse point in Kon's wrist before reluctantly dropping his hand back to the yoke. The wind outside buffets them relentlessly, despite even the formidable stabilizing tech built into the Batplane; he can't afford to keep his hands off it for too long.

Lightning flashes again. It's a little easier not to flinch.

"I'll run distraction outside," Kon says. "But I promise I won't confront him. Just get you a little breathing room to fly."

Anxiety spikes again in his chest, but Tim nods. He trusts Kon, and Kon is more than capable of playing a distraction while keeping a safe distance. "...Be careful."

Kon somehow, breathtakingly, manages to laugh despite it all. "C'mon, Rob, you know me. When am I not?"

He drops a quick kiss to the top of Tim's head, then vanishes before Tim has the chance to answer. Tim misses his warmth immediately.

It's fine. He'll hold Kon to that promise to talk later. For now, all that's left to do is to make it out of the storm.

50 Prompts About Devotion

[miguel-ohara-wifey]

Alright imma just say this to every AC fan out there, can unfollow/block me/say I hurt there white feelings to there friends I don’t care. But know this:

Making cute whittle fics and blogs surrounding the colonial Templars exclusively is racist.

I dunno how to spell this out to you; but the colonial Templars of AC 3 and AC rogue are caricatures of American colonial evil. So celebrating them , woopifiying them, defending them, shipping yourself with them, etc. Is gross.

Maybe you obsessing over fictional (and in AC’s case not so fictional) colonizers/fascists/white supremacists over characters of color. Says more about you than this post says about me.

Obviously you can make fan content with them in it and analyze them as characters/historical portrayals. But anything more announces to me how oblivious you are.

They aren’t some mustache twirling villains, they’re portraits of real evils. That have killed MILLIONS, and continues to kill even hundreds of years later. Colonization is not some aesthetic it is real history that affects real people.

Apologizes your tumblrina bubble has been popped. But putting on your blorbo blinders for literal fucking Charles Lee is racist. Im not pretending it’s not.

[professionalnooneatall]

The Xavier School For Gifted Youth Has a Massive Waiting List; Where are you Sending Your Superpowered Progeny?

[enbycrip]

[apicelladonna]

I am slowly going to ease back into my daily Gellert Grindelwald war criminal pookie posts and Grindeldore and of course Prometheus had Blue Fire!!!

Being submerged in flood water to buy our food during the storm just had me thinking about the Qilin necromancy scene.

If Gellert could do it in his stanky bath water so could I push at waist high waters :'D

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

You ever been in a storm, Wally?

(And I feel Dennis Takes a Mental Health Day summary possibilities in my artwork tonight)

[bramblesmith]

A storm is brewing.

You don't quite know it yet, but it's coming. It's a tingling in your fingers. A weight in the air, the rasp of your breath, the pressure on your skin.

The storm is rising. It swirls in your guts, it crawls on your throat. You feel it nesting around your arms, shifting your muscles, singing with your bones. It's crackling under your teeth, sparkles in the nails you bury in your skin.

The storm howls, and you roar with it. You let the rain whip your jaw, as the winds strip your flesh. Lightning runs through your hairs, sizzling, burning, burrowing itself in your hide, branding stripes and scars. The stench should be horrid, but you only smell ozone, rain and something sharp, almost mineral. Salt, rushing in your wounds, turning blood into glass, shattering pain. Your back explodes into wings, heavy, so heavy, pining you to the ground.

Every breath is a hurricane. Gales and hails surge through your fangs, and rock shatters beneath your claws, buried in the earth. The storm press on you, pushing you deeper in the mud, smothering you. The air is damp, freezing, and dense, so dense.

And then, you find its eye. Not a sudden relief, not a perfect silence. Merely a seed, a gust of fresh air. You draw in it, let it slowly fill your lungs. It lingers, swirl how gently inside you. And when you exhale, the thunder quietens. No more hails, merely drizzle. Next breath, and the lightning dampens, leaving only scorched skin. The gentle rain dissolves the salt, and blood drips again, curling on the soil.

A distant sun pierces the cloud, bathing the world in gold. Red dandelions start growing beneath you, encouraging grass, thorns and roses to follow.

The storm has passed, and you remain, lying on the scarlet garden of your own body. Your breath is slow, but steady. You smile. It's time to live again.

[hwajin]

sometimes i feel bad about not writing/ being able to write as much as i used to like 4 years ago on here but then i read through my old works and realize it was literally sheer quantity over quality and i CRINGEEE so bad at how i just... never much thought about what i write and how i write it? like i got a request and just rolled with it without trying to be super original or anything, now i sit 10 minutes over a single sentence trying to make it sound as beautiful as possible (and the time is definitely worth it imo)

[gothic-mothic]

Lighting tests with the boys