and became something else

A movie about Viola Davis because her life deserves to be known

The only picture I have of my childhood is the picture of me in kindergarten, I have this expression on my face — it’s not a smile, it’s not a frown. I swear to you, that’s the girl who wakes up in the morning and who looks around her house and her life saying, ‘I cannot believe how God has blessed me.’ “ 

“I would jump in trash bins with maggots looking for food, and I would steal from the corner store because I was hungry, I never had any kids come to my house because my house was a condemned building, it was boarded up, it was infested with rats. I was one of those kids who were poor and knew it.” 

“I was the kind of poor where I knew right away I had less than everyone around me. We had nothing, I cannot believe my life, I just can’t, I’m so blessed. I would jump in trash bins with maggots looking for food, and I would steal from the corner store because I was hungry, I never had any kids come to my house because my house was a condemned building, it was boarded up, it was infested with rats. I was one of those kids who were poor and knew it.”

“It became a motivation as opposed to something else — the thing about poverty is that it starts affecting your mind and your spirit because people don’t see you, I chose from a very young age that I didn’t want that for my life. And it very much has helped me appreciate and value the things that are in my life now because I never had it. A yard, a house, great plumbing, a full refrigerator, things that people take for granted, I don’t.”

I first envisioned myself as an actor after I watched Cicely Tyson in The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman when I was a child.”

“It wasn’t until then that I had a visual manifestation of the target I wanted to hit, It also gave me hope for the future and a different life for myself, she helped me have a very specific drive of how I was going to crawl, walk, run from that environment.”

“I became an artist, and thank God I did, because we are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life,” 

Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell. Arya is her Sword.

The old Stark saying of “He who passed the sentence should swing the sword” is totally reinterpreted here. Neither Sansa nor Arya would have the physical ability to wield Ice, their ancestral greatsword, if the blade was still there. So, instead, they became to the two halves of that whole statement.

Arya acknowledges that she could never be the Lady of Winterfell, not like Sansa could, so she became something else. Sansa couldn’t kill someone, not like Arya or her brothers or her father could, but she doesn’t need to do that. What I think we’ll see in the final season of Game of Thrones is Arya operating as the metaphorical sword that Sansa wields in the defense of their home.

After all, Sansa and Arya are opposite sides of the same coin. Sansa can rule and protect the North as the Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Arya can serve as the Sword of Winterfell, keeping the peace, executing those who commit treason, and defending their home in the ways she was trained.

9

Superhero Aesthetics // Extended Batman Family

We may have began as the soldiers Batman built for his crusade. But we became something else, something he never expected. We started as an army. We chose to be a family. And if there’s hope for us… there’s hope for anyone.

Dick Grayson [x]

Barbara Gordon [x]

Tim Drake [x]

Requests

Locker Room*

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Summary: There’s no real plot, maybe Reader wants to fool around in a locker room. Once again, this poor summary does not reflect my writing in general, I hope. Bear with me, please.
Word Count: 2.7k
Genre: NSFW/SMUT
Warnings: swearing, dirty talking, oral sex (both receiving), Chris being a butt guy [?], fingering and protected sex in a locker room, I guess.

Gifs used below aren’t mine, credit to the rightful owners.

    “Seriously Chris, why would you work out so late?” You whined, throwing your gym bag at the back of the car as you popped in, sitting next to him.

    “Listen, we both like this gym and this hour is the best time slot.” Your boyfriend huffed out a laugh, pecking your cheek and you buckled up the passenger seat belt.

    “There are other interesting ways to do exercises,” you wiggled your eyebrows, wandering your fingertips along his thigh and he rolled his eyes, starting the car. “If you do this to preserve your privacy then think about wearing something else than a cap. This became so obvious it’s Chris Evans hiding under.”

    “Always hilarious, Y/N,” he looked at the road, driving through Los  Angeles and you leaned your head against the seat, setting your running shoes on the dash. “You know it’s the job, I’m starting to film Infinity War in a couple of months now.”

    “Really, I had no idea… Captain Fucking Obvious.” Your eyes stared straight through the window as he glanced at you with his eyebrows furrowed, giving you his special look he used whenever you used sarcasm and a small laugh slipped through your lips.

    Once you’d finally reached the gym club opened at night, you both headed towards the different locker rooms and you got rid of your bag and jacket. You finally joined your boyfriend in the room - with some other people - and you saw him already working out as he focused on the upper part of his body.

    You smiled and as Chris sent you a wink, you tried to leave this glorious sight of him flexing his biceps, grunting lightly or tensing his back so much that you could’ve drawn the muscles through his T-shirt. You couldn’t help but internally gush over how very handsome he looked like this and how sexy his athletic outfit embraced all his muscles tightening then relaxing.

    Shaking your head slightly, you chose to concentrate the hard work on your legs for the night and you climbed on your favorite device, trying to forget the thoughts flying above your mind.

    Keep reading

    AMERICAN GODS SENTENCE STARTERS

    episode six - a murder of gods.

    • ❝ you saved me. thank you. ❞
    • ❝ you already know my name. ❞
    • ❝ what are they ?
    • ❝ oh motherfucker, you never just answer a fucking question
    • ❝ that’s not a question, ___ , a question would be: what do you believe you saw ?
    • ❝ i don’t know what i believe. ❞
    • ❝ it was a warning to me, and a sacrifice to them. ❞
    • ❝ sacrifice ? like –– like what, for –– for a god ?
    • ❝ what’s a god ? can we even know they exist ? people believe things, which means they’re real. that means we know they exist. so what came first ? gods ? or the people who believed in them ?
    • ❝ where was all this before i met you ?
    • ❝ there’s always a window. but people are frightened to look through it. it’s safer in the prison cell. ❞
    • ❝ we’re not safe now. ❞
    • ❝ who are you ?
    • ❝ i believe in some things. ❞
    • ❝ your wife obviously has a temper. not used to getting her way, huh
    • ❝ your dearly departed has departed and i suggest we should do the same. ❞
    • ❝ was she a ghost ? i mean, do you think you saw a ghost ?
    • ❝ you know, you’re not questioning any of this. i’m questioning everything right now. ❞
    • ❝ i’m not so young nor so narrow to assume the dead are dead, and there’s no spectrum or spectral in between. in my experience, the dead that aren’t rarely come back without purpose. ❞
    • ❝ her purpose was to let you go, now get in. ❞
    • ❝ now you’ve seen who’s after us, and you know what they’re capable of. you can hang around here if you want, but i’m getting out of here. ❞
    • ❝ fuck ! where the fuck is my car !
    • ❝ yes, it does belong to the dead woman, i am the dead woman. where’s my fucking car
    • ❝ first piece of luck i’ve had in days. ❞
    • ❝ worse things out tonight than you. ❞
    • ❝ isn’t she lovely ?
    • ❝ i’ve done the math. this times that equals you’re a cunt, divided by the only way i’m gonna get what i need is if you give it to me equals the only way you’re gonna give it to me is if you don’t need it. ❞
    • ❝ like my friend jesus christ, the only thing you need, ___ , is resurrection. ❞
    • ❝ did you just name drop jesus christ like you know a guy who knows a guy ?
    • ❝ i can be very convincing. ❞
    • ❝ is this you being convincing now ? because you suck at it. ❞
    • ❝ i’m trying to convince you to live. real living. not whatever rot living this is. ❞
    • ❝ why don’t you put that on your fucking scales and weigh it
    • ❝ what the fuck are you ? i mean, what the fuck are any of you, but first, tell me, what the fuck are you ? seriously, what the fuck are you ?!
    • ❝ please stop stealing my cab. ❞
    • ❝ i have been traveling in the direction of mecca for days, looking for a jinn. ❞
    • ❝ i’ll tell you where to find a whole murder of gods, demi and otherwise. every god damned one of them. ❞
    • ❝ i know a charm that can lift grief from a grieving heart. ❞
    • ❝ do you know a charm that can stop bleeding ?
    • ❝ i know a charm that can cure sickness and pain and a charm that can turn away the weapons of enemies. i know a charm that can heal with a touch. ❞
    • ❝ excuse the cold hands. ❞
    • ❝ there’s always been a god shaped hole in man’s head. trees were the first to fill it. ❞
    • ❝ mr. wood was the trees, mr. wood was the forest. see, he was a very old god who saw something very new. he saw a god fearing society turn towards complete industrialization. so what did he do ? he sacrificed his trees, he sacrificed his forest, and he became something else. ❞
    • ❝ well, at this stage it’s ‘we’ll see’, or, ‘time will tell’, but if it’ll rest your weary head, then yeah, it’s gone. ❞
    • ❝ religion inspires in those who fear nothing, fear of the gods, and using that fear requires a certain element of fucked up. ❞
    • ❝ i’m not scared of anything anymore. ❞
    • ❝ i’m scared you’re never gonna shut that flapping hole of yours. i’m sitting here having a fucking anxiety attack because i am genuinely terrified that you are never gonna shut the fuck up. ❞
    • ❝ did you kill ___ ? i won’t tell. ❞
    • ❝ my name is ___. or … it was ___. i do not know what my name is now. ❞
    • ❝ i just realized that i’m never gonna see my mother again. i’m never gonna hear her say my name again. i’m never gonna eat her cooking again. ❞
    • ❝ are you dead ?
    • ❝ this is my afterlife, ___. ❞
    • ❝ did you pray for another life
    • ❝ i do not pray to ask god for things. i pray to thank god, for bringing me where i am. to this time, to this place, where i finally know what i must do in this life. ❞
    • ❝ i pray i find ___. he is my afterlife. i knew him. we knew each other. and now i wish to know more. ❞
    • ❝ people will defend the warm safe feeling their america gives them. they will defend it with bullets. ❞
    • ❝ less a funeral than a celebration of a sacrifice. ❞
    • ❝ if i know my friend, somebody got tossed into the volcano. ❞
    • ❝ this was a human sacrifice ❞ 
    • ❝ that’s him. head of the crowd. the one they flock to. ❞
    • ❝ please, go in peace. ❞
    • ❝ what rock did you crawl out from under ?
    • ❝ playing a little hide and seek. hiding from the proverbial them, and seeking … you. ❞
    • ❝ i need you to believe in me. ❞
    • ❝ i’ve heard your name on the wind. ❞
    • ❝ we’re at war already, and we’re losing. you, me, all of us. they’re taking honey from our mouths. ❞
    • ❝ i have no use for shame. ❞
    • ❝ it’s easier to pass for the living in the dark, if i felt the need to pass. ❞
    • ❝ your heart’s not beating for this life anymore, ___. this life is done. ❞
    • ❝ that doesn’t obligate him to feel shit. ❞
    • ❝ perhaps i misjudged the kiss. ❞
    • ❝ death do us part, take the fucking hint. he’s gone. your man came, saw you, tasted death on your tongue, and he fucking left. ❞
    • ❝ your kind of love, ___, is the worst kind of love of them all. you can love somebody even when you know they don’t like it. even when you know they don’t want it. ❞
    • ❝ that’s some profound fucking knowledge for you right there, wrapped up in a quaint sexual metaphor. ❞
    • ❝ people do tend to behave if they know they’re being watched. they like being watched. ❞
    • ❝ somebody’s watching. somebody’s always watching. ❞
    • ❝ what did you do to become the god of this little universe that you’ve created ?
    • ❝ you’re no stranger to sacrifice. ❞
    • ❝ they don’t sacrifice anymore. not to me. ❞
    • ❝ you could always sacrifice yourself. you’ve done it before. ❞
    • ❝ you ever see a man hanged, ___ ? throat crushed, gasping for life. it’s a terrible way to find your faith. faith doesn’t have to leave the faithful dangling. ❞
    • ❝ you are what you worship. ❞
    • ❝ the power of fire is firepower. ❞
    • ❝ not god, but godlike. and they believe. ❞
    • ❝ god bless the believers. ❞
    • ❝ i’ll make you a blade worthy of a god. ❞
    • ❝ i know who he is, and who he’s always been. i can depend on that. ❞
    • ❝ you’re not here at the moment. you’re distracted. i wonder why. ❞
    • ❝ she’s out in the cold, but … she doesn’t feel it anymore. or maybe … maybe it’s all she feels, now. ❞
    • ❝ they make blood sacrifices to you. ❞
    • ❝ you could use a blood sacrifice. ❞
    • ❝ you sold us out. ❞
    • ❝ you saw what i was. i was a story people forgot to remember to tell. and they gave me a gun. they put power back in my hands. and i gotta tell you; it feels good. ❞
    • ❝ i never needed my religion to be moral. ❞
    • ❝ moralizing religions are materialistic ones. they all need their martyrs. ❞
    • ❝ i’m laying down a curse. i’m cursing the whole fucking thing. ❞
    • ❝ god is great. ❞
    • ❝ life is great. ❞
    the arcana masterlist

    i’m dreadfully curious and hopelessly lost when it comes to the arcana’s twisting, complex plot, which we still don’t know much about, so i figured it’d be best to compile what i know about the characters and the plot intertwining them so far.

    of course, different options / combos in the game reveal different things. as i haven’t gotten them all, and i’m forgetful af, there’ll be information missing. this is where you lovely people come in. feel free to message me stuff i’ve missed, or ask me for proof of something i’ve mentioned that you haven’t seen before! this way this masterlist will remain canonical and truthful.

    just to be clear, there aren’t meant to be any assumptions or theories here; this post contains only what we know to be fact, whether it be confirmed in-game or by the devs on tumblr.

    there are major spoilers abound under the cut, for future discoveries in the game even: read at your own discretion.

    Keep reading

    “Somebody  Else” - One Shot

    Rating: M (Smut) 

    Here it is! If you know the song by the 1975, just know that this song is the sole reason for this one shot. If yo haven’t heard it yet, I suggest you do! Enjoy :) 

               “What about you?” It felt like a dream, really. The fire crackled in front of you, eyes drifting to the embers that rose with the swell of the burning flames in the backyard of Niall’s home. He had asked you to come to his birthday party just a few days ago, along with everyone else. Niall had the quality about him that everyone wanted to be around him at the drop of a hat, so it was no surprise to you that when you walked in, the entire place was crowded with people, wall to wall. After you had worked the room with old friends, Louis and Liam already found and pretty much tackled you, your eyes couldn’t keep off the flames that were starting to get bigger outside. Which lead you here, out into the spacious lawn, a few people scattered about.

               “Hellleeeewwwwww,” a hand waved in front of your face and then you were snapped out of it, jerking your head to find Niall’s kind eyes. His eyes followed where you were looking, his eyes widening as he bounced on his toes, shoving his free hand that was waving in front of you back into his pocket.

               “Ah,” he nodded, taking a sip from his glass, the foam from his beer painting his top lip, “I see,” his eyebrows rose and he looked back at you, worry etched on his face.

               “Wh… What do you see?” It completely didn’t register with you. You weren’t picking up on Niall’s complete change of demeanor, from relaxed to almost protective as he stepped towards you, his shoulder now skimming yours. The flames rose high and then dipped back down making a loud crack, causing you to gasp and glance back at the flames. And then you saw it.

               “Oh…” your heart nearly dropped into your stomach, Niall pulled his hand out of his pocket, tossing it around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

               “Shouldn’t be anything to worry about,” He assured you. Niall was, out of all of Harry’s friends, someone you felt completely at home with. A brother, a best friend, and someone to hold you up when you felt weak.

               Like right now. Harry’s back was turned to you, half of his leg perched on the stone wall behind him. A glass rested lazily in one hand. He was talking to someone you have seen before but can’t remember the name of, and then your eyes rested on his free arm. It was outstretched, touching someone besides him. She had on a lanky dress, something way too formal for one of Niall’s get-togethers.

               “Haven’t seen her, before,” Niall took another sip from his glass, “that’s why shouldn’t worry,” he pulled you in closer, squeezing your shoulder. That’s just the thing… why were you worried in the first place?

    Keep reading

    2

    “There’s always been a god-shaped hole in man’s head. Trees were the first to fill it. Mr. Wood was the trees. Mr. Wood was the forest. Well, he was a very old god who saw something very new - he saw a god-fearing society turn towards complete industrialization. So what did he do? He sacrificed his trees. He sacrificed his forest. And he became something else.”

    anonymous asked:

    14 please?

    got a little teary writing this one so thanks for that, anon

    14. ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss’

    “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart? You’re a different kinda quiet tonight.”

    Hanzo sighs in response, which sends a small shock of anxiety through McCree’s gut. “No,” Hanzo says to the book in his hands. “Not as such. I am just thinking.”

    They’ve been lying together in bed for the better part of an hour now, relaxing after a particularly taxing mission, Hanzo with his book and McCree with a tablet as he looks over the news. However, it became apparent early on that Hanzo was distracted by something else, and McCree hasn’t heard a page turn in almost 10 minutes. After 9 months, McCree’s learned to identify Hanzo’s changes in moods, even when he’s attempting to be subtle.

    McCree rests the tablet on his stomach, his attention now fully on Hanzo. “About what?”

    Hanzo presses his lips into a thin line, the picture of reluctance. However, since he does not outright deny him, McCree patiently waits.

    “I have been thinking about some things,” Hanzo says, folding his book in his lap. “Since you were nearly hurt during our mission.”

    McCree remembers. He’d very nearly been thrown off the edge of a third-story balcony, caught only just in time by a passing Mercy. He hadn’t actually been hurt, though, other than a couple little bruises, so he hadn’t given it any thought since. “What about it?”

    “Well. It is not about that so much as it is about the rest.” Hanzo’s gaze flickers toward McCree, but he looks away again quickly toward the other side of the room. “We live dangerous lives. Before we met, I was not concerned by this. I was alone. And that has changed, in more ways than one.”

    He pauses. McCree sits up fully, worried now about what Hanzo has to say. Hanzo continues, “Things are different. And more importantly, you are different. And I could have lost you.”

    Hanzo reaches over suddenly, grabbing McCree’s hand and squeezing tight. “And I realized that–there are things I have not said. I could have lost you today, and you would not have known them.”

    Hanzo inhales a long, deep breath. Then he looks at McCree directly for the first time since he began speaking. “You are,” he says, with intention, “incredibly important to me. I know I do not express it the way you do, but it remains true. I have spent a long time alone, by my choice and by necessity, and in that time it never even occurred to me that I might find someone like you.”

    McCree’s breath leaves him in a rush. Hanzo continues on. “That you are so patient, so kind–despite everything you have experienced, despite who I am and what I have done–astounds me. And I am grateful. You, Jesse McCree, are a marvel, and I am utterly in love with you, and if nothing else, you deserve to know this.”

    Hanzo’s face belies no fear, but his hand crushes McCree’s in its grip. He waits, jaw set, for McCree’s response.

    McCree has none. Every word he has ever learned in any language is gone from his brain, replaced by the heart-wrenching speech Hanzo just gave. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes forth.

    So he foregoes words entirely and pulls Hanzo into a desperate kiss. For a moment, Hanzo is frozen, but then he melts, and McCree gathers him up in his arms and embraces him as tightly as he can. If he has ever been good at words before, he may never be again, so he tries to communicate in his touch: in hard, needy kisses followed by softer touches, in the fingertips dug into Hanzo’s skin, in every stroke of his lips and flicker of his tongue against Hanzo’s, because there is nothing he can say. 

    For the first time in years, he is well and truly speechless, and he couldn’t care less.

    7

    Anything at all can happen just before the sunrise.

    Whenever I see Reaper76 fanworks of Gabriel teaching Jack Spanish, it inevitably reminds me of the scene/song from In the Heights, Sunrise, where Nina teaches Benny Spanish. Forgive me, Lin.

    This has been stuck in my head for so long, I finally had to just draw it and get it out of my system.

    I also love how the tone shift totally makes sense in the context of the musical, but here it looks like Gabriel’s just being moody.

    [Bonus non-song scene also from In the Heights under the cut:]

    Keep reading

    Pretence - 4

    (Moments) | (Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3)

    summary: “For Nat’s sake, Y/N, will you pretend to be my girlfriend?”
    words: 1038 


    Bucky had heard once that if it’s meant to be, it’s going to happen. His mama lived by those words. Maybe that’s why she fought every battle with bright eyes and a smile. It’s why there was never anything she couldn’t do.

    There were several times in his life when he questioned the validity of those words. When Sarah Rogers died, he wondered if it meant that he was always going to be responsible for Steve. When Steve liberated the 107th, he wondered if maybe it had always been the other way around. The words lost meaning to him when fell of that train.

    When he looks at Y/N, though, with her naked body curled up against him, eyes closed and soft snores escaping her nose, he can’t help but remember them.

    He wonders if she remembers anything from last night. He knows he does. He remembers every last word he said, the exact number of times she whispered his name, the expressions on her face of bliss and hurt and anger and desperation. He remembers his own matching desperation, how the only thing on his mind had been bright red hair and sea green eyes and how somehow, somewhere along the way, suddenly all he could think about was Y/N. He remembers how he did what he did to deal with his own misery, like the selfish bastard he is, but how at some point it became something else, something more.

    And even now, in his fully conscious and sober state of mind, when the feeling of her skin touching his is supposed to be wrong, it isn’t. He can’t move; He doesn’t want to move, and that scares him.  If it’s meant to be, it’s going to happen.

    She stirs beside him, and his breath catches in his throat because he wouldn’t be caught dead staring at her at his most vulnerable, especially when he knows exactly how she’ll react waking up beside him: with a red face, mumbling “this was a mistake” and rushing out of the room as if he’s hurt her.

    (And he has, he realizes.)

    When she only flips over and falls back asleep, Bucky lets out a breath of air and his lungs can function properly again. He decides maybe it’s best if he goes to take a shower. He’s not sure he could handle himself being beside her when she does wake up, anyway.


    They’re at a club, and it’s when Bucky’s sitting between Steve, Sam, Wanda, Sharon, and Y/N, loud music pounding in his veins, that he realizes that if anything, Y/N deserves an Oscar. She’s avoided him expertly for days, and he hasn’t done much on his own part to seek her out either. It’s little things that he’s slowly registered: that she needs space, that he’s probably going to make a bad situation even worse, that this whole dynamic is toxic. For him too, but especially for her.

    But this woman, oh god. She’s sitting with the others right now, laughing and talking as if nothing’s wrong at all, and the only reason Bucky can tell that something is off is because he’s concealed his own emotions for years. It’s like someone’s flipped a switch, and Bucky’s not sure why or how, but he’s become aware of how selfish he’s been, to ask someone to leave their whole life behind just so he can deal with his own crushing self worth.

    She excuses herself from the group, saying something about getting a drink and winking at Wanda, who laughs in return. He notices her empty glass, and how everyone else has barely had any to drink, and he feels his eyebrows furrow in concern.

    He watches her as she sits at the bar, watches how she down a drink quicker than he’s ever downed one, watches how she orders another, then another. And he knows what she’s doing, because drinking to forget? He’s tried that so, so many times.

    “Oh my god, Bucky. You’re obsessed with her.” It’s Sharon Carter who finally gets him to look away and tune back into the conversation, and he realizes that everyone’s grinning at him. So he flashes his signature smile, laughs along with the others, when really, it feels like he’s only just noticed her.

    Slowly, everyone disperses to their own activity. Wanda goes to the dance floor, Steve and Sharon head out to grab something to eat, saying they’ll be back, and Sam disappears to who knows where?

    Bucky stands his ground for a while, until even the bartender is giving Y/N looks of concern. Then he gets up and walks over to the bar, standing beside Y/N. She doesn’t say anything when he gently takes her glass out of her hand and sets it to the side, only looks up at him with hollow, emotionless eyes that make his own throat tighten.

    “That’s enough,” he says, but he can barely get the word out of his mouth. He sends Steve a quick text, then slips his arm around Y/N’s back to help her off the bar stool and onto her feet. “Let’s get you home.”

    She’s quite as he guides her outside and hails a cab for the two of them. She just stares straight ahead, emotionless, not acknowledging anything. It isn’t until they’re on their way back to the compound that she speaks.

    “Bucky?” She says his name so softly he has to strain to hear her. “Why– why me?”

    And all Bucky can say to that is “I’m sorry.” He wants to say he’s sorry that she’s hurting, that it’s not at all her fault, that he owes her the biggest apology in the world, but the only words that he can manage to say through his constricting throat are “I’m sorry.” Over, and over, and over.

    She doesn’t cry or yell at him like she should. She just goes back to staring outside quietly, leaning her head against the window. Eventually, he sees her close her eyes, and he thinks that maybe she’s asleep, but then she opens her mouth to speak again and the words she whispers make Bucky’s heart clench and his breathing stop.

    “I just want the pain to end.”


    TAGS ARE CLOSED

    Keep reading

    8

    five days of vixxoween: the dark magic

    magic is neither good nor evil, but they thought themselves good. maybe not good, but certainly not evil. they are not so sure of that now. in the end, they wanted power and blood—blood is powerful. unsuspecting travelers spilled into their spells and potions in a flow of never ending red and their magic became something else—something dark and corrupted and, yes, very powerful.