#when i go

[saltysideblog]

★ 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝕴 𝕲𝖔 ★

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Rick Flag x Delphia Holman, Fairytale Au, chapter 1 (?)

A gift for the incredible @anniesocsandgeneralstore based on this moodboard and her original character ♥️

Summary: A princess plagued with prophetic visions, the knight she loves and the cursed sword that would come between them…

Additional inspiration: ★ • ★

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He took his oath to protect her with his life, armour glistening in the light, reflecting the colourful stained glass, down on one knee, a paragon; a man driven by duty.

She felt a gentle brush of gloved fingers against her own in the same cathedral where they’d first met, a quiet comfort after a loss; a man driven by compassion.

His lips crashed against her own, fingers frantically tangling in her intricate braids, clinging to her, the sounds of two desperate people echoing in her darkened chambers; a man driven by lust.

She felt his cold skin, held him against her breast, weeping, the eyes that once held all the warmth in the world, extinct and lifeless, his blood seeping through her dress, staining the fabric red; a man driven by love.

Delphia awoke with a start. Never in all her years had she seen someone’s path so clearly. A bright thread she could follow all the way to his demise. A man she knew she would love, a man who’s loss already brought her so much grief, long before they’d even met.

He must be so young still, she thought, probably not even a man yet.

She herself had just celebrated her thirteenth nameday. She wiped her tears, the dream already fading from her waking mind as the sun filtered through her curtains.

Everything in due time, she repeated her mother’s wise words to herself, no sense in being heartbroken today for something that will happen tomorrow…

Ever since she was a child, Delphia had been wary of the woman in the walls. Her father’s advisor maneuvered through the shadows, a whispering voice in the winding castle corridors. Always watching, always listening, the woman’s motives never fully revealed themselves and when they did, it was often too late. Despite all this, her father held Amanda in high esteem. She was, after all, loyal to the crown.

“You’ll come around once you realize just how heavy that thing is”, she’d mused one day.

A promise or a threat? Delphia could never be sure.

Rick Flag had always been a faithful servant of the realm. To the peasantry and courtisans, he was a paragon of virtue, fiercely loyal to the crown, and good looking too: the perfect knight. To Amanda, he was an obedient lovesick puppy, too blind to see he’d been turned into a pawn…

They shattered the witch’s spell and with it, Ser Flag’s heart.

When Delphia first laid eyes on him, she knew he was the one. Silently trailing behind her father, standing tall and upright in his bright polished armour, dark soulful eyes that made her heart ache. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth the creases in his forehead, ease the burden that weighed on his shoulders. Her legs had taken her towards him in purposeful strides long before she even realized she was walking. Her father greeted her with a smile, but her eyes were fixed on the knight behind him.

“Ser Flag…” she’d uttered his name breathlessly. He startled,

“Yes?”

She’d so anticipated his arrival, she nearly forgot he was a stranger. She blinked and shook her head with an awkward chuckle,

“Welcome!”

“Thank you.”, he nodded and caught himself, adding a quick your highness and polite head bow.

Amanda, from her usual vantage point right behind the king, observed their exchange like a cat might observe a mouse; calm, quiet, calculating.

The man beside her looked bewildered as the princess exchanged pleasantries with the old king. He leaned down to whisper,

“The princess knows my name.”

Amanda’s face betrayed no emotion, as unreadable as the stone walls around them,

“News travels fast around here.”

Try to keep up.

Though unspoken, Rick heard her loud and clear. She’d pulled a lot of strings to get him where he was and he was more than aware she held the shears to cut him loose. He was not immune to manipulation, he’d learned that the hard way and Rick Flag wasn’t the kind of man to make the same mistake twice.

His gaze wandered back to the royals in front of them, the princess’ eyes glued to his as if she saw something beautiful in his troubled soul and it made him feel fuzzy. She waved to him as she left, sunlight caught in her hair, a shade of red that reminded him of a hearth. A warm, inviting flame and he, the little moth, unaware that it would burn his delicate wings.

Rick Flag wasn’t the kind of man to make the same mistake thrice.

[karihighman]

in my cowboy era thanks to dylan’s new song 🤠 “when I go”

[mthguy]

"When I Go" From WE AREN'T KIDS ANYMORE (Studio Cast Recording) Music & Lyrics by Drew Gasparini (2020)

Featuring Colton Ryan, Raymond J. Lee, Lilli Cooper, Nicholas Christopher, and Bonnie Milligan

“I'm living in what started out like a dream I'm working for the thinkers on the scene I'm fighting for the chance to be undefined I'm leaving something behind I'm waiting for this messy light to turn green I'm hoping for the chance to wipe it clean I'm dying for the ones who come to the show I'm leaving something when I go All I know, even when it's over I'm leaving something when I go.”

[themovementquality]

Daily gifs 96/365

Stella Condie in When I go

[randomberlinchick]

Cabaret, Liza Minnelli

Start by admitting From cradle to tomb It isn't that long a stay Life is a cabaret, old chum It's only a cabaret, old chum And I love a cabaret . . .

This video accompanied the invitation to the party I’m hosting tonight. I intend to go out like Elsie . . . well except for the “pills and liquor” part ;-)

[ancestorsalive]

[girldraki]

[evidently-endless]

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[ducktracy]

sharing a very sage bit of advice from The Simpsons' own John Swartzwelder that i've been trying to hamper down in my writing and drawing alike. let your inner crappy little elf do his worst

[artsymeeshee]

Felt a need to draw hugs (thinking about sea grunks has made me extra emotional :’))

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[nikoisme]

fucking hate how cats think they can mrrp their way out of anything because yeah, they fucking can.

[planefood]

rules for thee and not for me