To Borrow #5

My sweet crazy baby Saeyoung <3 I honestly honestly didn’t think I’d want to play this guy’s route. Even more so than Yoosung. However he was my Solas from DA:I in MM. This crazy knowledgable, powerful and horribly broken dark horse that comes to claim your heart out of nowhere <3

Also I am not super tech savvy. I am not a hacker. I am not any sort of programmer. Please just remember that and read ahead with a pinch of salt I guess :) 

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I was sad, and when I’m sad I write sad things. This is basically a non-canon version of the ending of the House of Hades. (Word count: 971 words.)

Percy thinks that deep down, a part of him always knew it was going to end this way. 

For as the world crashes down around him, as fire reigns, as monsters howl yet all Percy can hear is the blood rushing through his body, as he looks at Annabeth, he wonders how could it ever have gone any different? 

They were heroes. And heroes, especially the Greek ones, never got a happy ending. 

It started when Bob fell. They were going strong, and despite the odds hope glimmered in Percy, but then Tartarus arrived. And Percy had known Bob hadn’t stood a chance. 

The look on Annabeth’s face when Damasen had arrived had been enough to make Percy’s heart soar, and believe for a second they still had a hope. But then the monsters had overcome him too, Tartarus’ shadows beating him down. Damasen still struggled a short distance away from them. He thrashed many monsters into dust, and kept them away from Percy and Annabeth. 

Annabeth turns to face him. “Percy,” she croaks. Her face is grimy, wounds feasting on her skin, but her grey eyes remain as unbroken as ever. To Percy, she is more beautiful than ever, and he is overcome by emotion. He wants to grab her, and kiss her, and tell her he loves her over and over again. He wants to take her into his arms and protect her and shield her. More than anything he wants to live with her, grow old with her, have kids with her. He wants to do all the things with her they deserved to do. 

Somehow, despite not a word reaching his lips, Annabeth’s face perceptibly changes. Percy thinks she’s understood what he was thinking. 

“Percy,” she says, quieter now. They’ve both forgotten the monsters: Small Bob is prowling around them, the last of them that remains strong, protecting them from any incoming beasts. “We need to get the doors. We need to do that–for them–” Annabeth breaks off. She doesn’t need to finish. 

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Hitched (6/11)

a Captain Swan AU fan fiction

Summary:  After a series of events leave her life in pieces, Emma Swan finds herself hitchhiking out of Maine, her wallet empty and her heart broken. The best she hopes for is a driver who isn’t a pervert and takes her far away from the painful memories of Storeybrooke. But when she finds a ride with a quiet truck driver named Jones, Emma discovers that maybe a trustworthy friend is all she needs.

Rating: M or MA; some profanity and sex scenes.

Cover art: created by the absolutely fabulous @thesschesthair!!

Links: ff.net // ao3 // ch. 1 //  ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 // ch. 7 // ch. 8 // ch. 9 // ch. 10 // epilogue

(also @teamhook, @like-waves-on-the-beach, @lenfaz, @followbatb, @stardusted-nymph, and @optomisticgirl, thank you thank you thank you for reading and requesting tags!)



It wasn’t until Jones upended the toolbox, its contents flying everywhere as he swore so loudly she could hear it from inside the cab, that Emma finally sighed and cracked open her door.

She hopped out and slammed the door after, crossing her arms and shivering at the chill, rounding the front of the rig. Not that it was that much warmer inside the cab, but at least there wasn’t a piercing wind, cutting through her coat and hat like they were nothing, driving tiny specks of frigid rain into her flesh.

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qwertyuiop678  asked:

more obitine p l e a s e i want them to be happy (or at least not dead i'll take not dead)

Summary: This was supposed to be written a month ago, as a continuation of the Satine Lives AU that I wrote for a three-sentence fic prompt, but since I’ve been terribly busy, here we go. Set right after the end of ROTS (just corrected a typo there, I’d accidentally written ROTJ before), with everything the same except Satine’s continued existence.

(Also because, you know, anything in connection to Luke Kryze will always be awesome)

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Luke Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano (mentioned), Captain Rex (Mentioned)

Chapters: 1/1

I’ve cross posted this to ff.net!

The Question, Twenty Years Late

The war is over.

Satine stands alone on the palace balcony, and watches the afternoon sunlight glance off the glass towers of Sundari.

The people of Mandalore go about their ways in peace; Ahsoka, Rex, and their men have seen to that. Their last act as general and captain was to break the Siege of Mandalore, and return the system to Satine’s governance.

And then, in the midst of their post-battle laughter, came the order.

Satine remembers the minutes after the first declaration of order sixty-six with mind-numbing clarity.

There was confusion as the troopers not under Ahsoka’s direct command turned blasters towards her, and Ahsoka’s men reflexively raised theirs in return; there was blasterfire, and agonised screaming, one voice but from the mouths many men, brother, brother, why are you doing this-

Satine had wondered, later on, when Ahsoka and Rex and their surviving men have been rushed onto her fastest ship and sent blasting off into unknown space - whether her dream of two krayt dragons, brothers, tearing each other to pieces on black sand was truly simply a dream.

It had seemed too real.

Below Satine’s trembling feet, the palace walls are decorated with frescoes of dying Jedi, crushed under Mandalorian soldiers’ boots in millenia of war. And beyond this biodome, beyond Sundari, Mandalore is covered with dust ground from a billion soldiers’ bones.

The war is over, but at what cost?

Soon, Satine knows, the newly-self-declared emperor will send fresh troops to Mandalore, and ask for her sworn fealty.

It will fill her lips with gall to swear it; but she will have to. To do otherwise would be to condemn her people to extinction.

Her hands clench white and bloodless around the durasteel railing, and she fights the urge to lose her very insubstantial lunch over the balcony side.

Obi-Wan was on Utapau when it happened.

The holonet had been very vocal about his death.

She had not felt anything when she saw. She knew, in a way, that ten thousand Jedi had perished. That statistic, she could comprehend.

She could not, and cannot, comprehend Obi-Wan’s death.

The balcony doors slide open behind her, with hiss of compressed air. It sounds like the gasping breaths of a dying planet.

Satine closes her eyes against the afternoon sunlight, treacherous moisture prickling at her eyelashes, and waits for her attendant to announce the arrival of an Imperial Senate messenger, who will rip Mandalore from her like a child from her side.

But then, suddenly:

“Hello, there.”

Shock. Disbelief.

Satine turns in place.


Utter, complete, rage-filled urge to slap the red-gold beard off that smirking face.

She stalks towards him, hands still clenched into fists, moisture that had welled in her eyes for another reason entirely suddenly breaking free into a torrent of furious tears. She might be snarling. She doesn’t care.

“Obi-Wan, you-”

He lifts calm, tired eyes to meet her tear-streaked gaze and says, with a little catch of humorous grief in his voice, “Shh, my dear, you’ll wake the baby.”


Satine slides sharply to a stop, and stares at the little bundle in the crook of Obi-Wan’s arm.

“This is Luke,” Obi-Wan says, with that same strange lilt in his words. “My- my nephew.”

That raises many questions, but she does not voice them. Satine raises a finger, and brushes it along a pink cheek soft in slumber.

“Satine.” There is something new in Obi-Wan’s voice, now.

She looks at him, and reaches out gently to lower his hood. There is ash in his hair, and black sand speckled in his beard. His tunics, she notices for the first time, are scorched and worn. Her hands skitter over his cheekbones, his chin.

Obi-Wan smiles at her, a shadow of the cocksure grin that had stolen her heart across a campfire, almost two decades ago now, in the year of Mandalore’s civil war. “I’m not sure how to do this, and I’m probably doing it wrong,” he begins. “I know I’m supposed to have a ring, at least. I don’t. I’ve come to your doorstep with nothing but a scarred lightsaber and a baby.” His lips twitch, sardonically, as if realising the ridiculousness of that statement. “But if you’ll have me?”

That last sentence washes over Satine’s ears without entering them for a moment.

“You’re asking,” she says. It isn’t really a question.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies, gaze steady. “I’d kneel, but I’m holding Luke, so it would be somewhat awkward.”

“I…” Satine’s hands are frozen on Obi-Wan’s face.

“I once said I would have left the Order, had you said the word,” Obi-Wan murmurs, slipping a hand out from under Luke’s weight to clasp her hand where it rests on his cheekbone. “I know now why you did not - and I am asking a burden of you, to do this. I am asking you to raise a child not your own, and to marry a man who is a death sentence walking, for all the Empire’s intent. Forgive me for asking, but I think I have to.”

He falls silent with the air of a man awaiting either his pardon or his exile.

“What of attachment?” Satine says, softly.

“We were fools. Attachment, in the end, is simply valuing something above our service to the Force; it was something I did not teach, nor understood well enough, until now. And in the end, it brought about this horror.” There is shame there, in those whispered words; sorrow, and grief.

Satine traces Obi-Wan’s face with a perceptive gaze; there are lines there she had not noticed before, like the faint lines that edge her face in the mirror each morning, now.

But there is also a smooth, unmarked face, sleeping quietly between them.

Satine leans forward, and presses her lips to his cheek.

“Yes,” she says.

He makes a sound, something between a hiccup and a sob. Joy, and grief. The next moment, he has pulled her into an awkward embrace, one arm around her and the other holding the child, their child now, between them. She reaches out instinctively to support Luke’s head.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan says. It is all he needs to say.

The Empire will be sending visitors, Satine knows; today, tomorrow, in a week, in years and decades to come - but for the present moment, this is their joy, and it is complete.


@qwertyuiop678 here you are. <3 Reblog as you like, everyone!

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21 Grams [Pt.1]

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Final

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Sci-fi, dystopian au | Length: 9.8k

Summary: There was little to be learned from an Android when all it knows, humans have taught. Yet when a bright boy of dark hair had come into your home, eighteen years in academia would mean next to nothing against the universe he had brought along with him.

Note: pls read the prologue first.

They gave you a week to mourn her.

Along with every other child who had failed the test. It was funeral after funeral for the entirety of seven days—seven days of forced smiles and stiff handshakes and accepting condolences as if it were not you yourself who had caused her death.

But after that it was a week of celebrations, for those who won, those proved themselves worthy to remain in a world bursting at the seams with mouths to feed and too little to go round. And at your parties, there were feasts. The district was affluent; each family strove to parade their new pride, their precious survivor, as best as they could. You had attended close to twenty parties that week alone, and in each one, even your own, the existence of the fallen child was easily erased, like he was not missed, like there was not a room on the second floor whose owner was alive just two weeks ago.

We are sisters from the same womb, a part of me will live on in you, as you will in me. May the better warrior win.

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the true duality of man is miria harvent warning jacuzzi that his tears would wash away the “painting” on his face but later being perceptive enough to realize what ronnie is (when even firo hadn’t) and asking him to break isaac out of jail

anonymous asked:

one thing I've thought about quite often is that d will come out, but him and c won't. like he'll be able to be himself and be free of m, but their relationship would still be secret. the amount of love people have for Klaine is unreal and then finding out 'Klaine' is real would blow things over the top and d and c would never have any privacy ever again. 1/2

honestly I think both of them just want to produce their work and forget all the personal things the world wants to know so how can we know that d coming out will lead to their relationship coming out? 2/2

Hi Anon!! I think a lot of people think like you. There is a perception that Chris in particular is very private, which he is, no question, and that he would want to continue to keep his real relationship secret.

I personally don’t agree.  I do however think initially D may come out solo. There are certainly pros and cons to both strategies and they need to do what they feel is best for them both professionally and personally.  But even if he comes out solo, I believe strongly that eventually the goal is to tell the truth.

I have repeatedly stated, one of the biggest obstacles facing them is this perception that they hate each other.  I saw tweets today posted of someone stating that Chris should not be mentioned to D this weekend for fear of “ruining” his project.  And while I agree, it would be inappropriate to mention him for obvious reasons, I know I would not, I am positive it would not ruin the day. In fact, we know the factor that potentially could.  

This perception is a huge and real issue that needs to be addressed.  And if D does decide to come out solo, I really, really, really hope they immediately start to rehabilitate their public relationship. And completely phase out Chill in the process.  That to me would lay the foundation for them to eventually come out as a couple. And a failure to do either I think will hurt them. 

The other option of course is to just rip off the band aid and tell everything at once. Let it sting and get it done.  I think they may go with the former, but there are certainly major benefits to the later as well.

Again, I think that the ultimate goal is to tell some form of the truth about CC. I think they are both so tired of the lies and hiding, that it is worth the intrusion into their privacy. I think they are well aware, when CC come out as a couple, that initially there is going to be a giant spotlight pointed at them, with so many wanting answers. Quite frankly, this is going to happen the minute D comes out whether C is a part of it or not.  To many people know, and even those who don’t know, suspect.  I assume they are prepared for that outcome.  

I am sure this has been long discussed and they have a strategy for handling this in a way that is respectful of their relationship and that does not reveal more than they want to be known to the public.

Never Sleeping Again: Part 1

*A TRC AU (Also on AO3)

Ronan Lynch was in a terrible mood. The hot summer sun was burning his fair skin, leaving his nose, cheekbones, neck, and shoulders tender and pink. And he was sweating, his standard black muscle tee clinging to his torso as he followed Matthew through the crowds at the Saturday farmer’s market. The vendors all knew Matthew by name and they called out to him, asking him to try samples of jam, fudge, and baked goods. They did not call out to Ronan, which suited him just fine. He was only here at Matthew’s request. He had been woken up at an ungodly hour to find Matthew perched on the end of his bed, begging him to go to the market.

“Why don’t you ask Declan?” Ronan grumbled as he pulled his pillow over his face.

Ronan,” Matthew whined, “you have to come!”

“No,” Ronan said.

“But there’s um, something special there. Something you’ll like.”

This was enough to get Ronan to toss his pillow on the floor and give Matthew an appraising look.

“Something I’d like, huh? I really can’t imagine what that would be,” Ronan said. Matthew had a playful but shifty look on his face, like he was trying to not give away the punch line to a good joke. “Okay, fine, whatever,” Ronan growled as he got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. “Just don’t make waking me up this early a regular thing.”

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Titans’ Diet Rant

Okay, so, ~10 years ago, I read a fic in which the mayor of Jump City rewarded the Teen Titans with a set of personal assistants. The set included a nutritionist. The author had clearly not done the research on this subject, because the diet plan the nutritionist set for the Titans consisted of… a cup of peanut butter and a softgel fish oil pill. Per day.

This diet would 1) be extremely disrespectful of Beast Boy’s veganism (which actual nutritionists would have accounted for), 2) fail to cover the full spectrum of vitamins, minerals, and proteins a human needs to thrive, and 3) only provide about 130 Calories per day. As I’m sure you can recall, the average human being needs about 2000 Calories a day for maintenance and daily tasks. The Titans are far from average in this regard, and should probably be compared to Olympic athletes, who often reach daily Caloric requirements of ~8000.

I can easily see Robin having this kind of energy demand, what with all the acrobatic stunts he does, and the training regimen he has to maintain his abilities.

Beast Boy, while less consistent with the training, does often morph large mammals in combat. Did you know horses need 17,000 Calories per day, just for maintenance? I imagine Beast Boy’s weight fluctuates a lot, as he builds up a fat reserve in his down time, and burns through it in seconds when he morphs something large.

Cyborg’s Caloric requirements are probably closer to the ~4000 range, as, while he’s a big, active dude, not much of him requires food for maintenance.

As for Raven, I’ll have to elaborate on a headcanon of mine, and my reasons for it, for this to make any sense. So, I just read through the entire Teen Titans Go! comics archive, in which Raven does not once eat on-panel. In the cartoon series, she eats precisely twice on-screen: an apple in Spellbound, and multiple fruitpies in Mother Mae-Eye. This is significant, because we see the other Titans eat all the time, and Raven’s either not present, or just sitting in their general vicinity. On the other hand, we have frequently seen her substitute herbal tea for meals. Therefore, I propose that, as a human-demon hybrid, Raven can’t actually metabolize any molecules larger than a complex carbohydrate, and is an obligate emotivore (the herbal tea is a personal blend, and works as a sort of “digestive aid” for this). Peanut butter, being high in protein, and proteins being larger than complex carbohydrates, would do bad things to her.

And as for Starfire… hoo boy. So, real quick, let’s do a rundown of her canon-confirmed anatomical traits, and what they indicate: forward-facing eyes (depth perception) on a species that is no longer brachiating, if it ever was, and a slender torso (high-energy per digestive expense food) indicate a predator of some kind; nine stomachs (lots of processing power) and a 3-foot-long, prehensile tongue indicate a browser. So, we have a predatory omnivore, whose plant matter portion of her diet requires lots of digesting? That, or a recently non-brachiating herbivore adapted to eating food that has a high-energy yeild once you get past the super-tough husk. And that’s before you get into the chemistry of a species that can have chromium allergies - which no human could without suffering some major health effects, due to chromium being an important trace element for us - and eat glue without suffering an intestinal blockage - which, again, no human could, due to not producing anything that can break down that kind of adhesive. In conclusion, no well-meaning nutritionist in their right mind is going to touch Starfire’s diet, because the only person regularly on Earth who is remotely knowledgable about Starfire’s nutritional needs… is Starfire.

The Significance of Double H in Mawaru Penguindrum

Double H, our favorite idol duo of Mawaru Penguindrum, is at face value in the beginning of the anime, some little mascots the viewer recognizes on the subway who continue to pop up with every episode. They are always featured on screens in the subway for public service announcements called “Today’s Slogan”. However, each one of their announcements is relevant to the plot of the specific episode each is featured in. I want to analyze each one of the announcements to detail why Double H is crucial to understanding Mawaru Penguindrum’s themes.

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So this is in the very beggining of overwatch, maybe one of their first missions together. Extremely self conscious Genji is frustrated after his visor breaking in the middle of the battlefield, exposing his marred face. Mccree is perceptive enought to lend his precious hat after seeing Genji’s ashamed attemps to cover his face.

darthjeeling  asked:

Did you say Bolas foiled New Phyrexia's corruption of Karn? I must have missed that part of the story. Care to give a synopsis? =)

Hey there! Of course I can!

I’ll use bullet points to make it easier to follow for those who didn’t read Quest for Karn or Dark Discoveries.

  • Bolas sends imps after Tezzeret. Their message is never heard because those imps are killed before they’re able to finish it, so Bolas himself appears to him.

(First imp.)

(Second imp.)

(Third imp.)


  • Once in Mirrodin, Tezzeret’s guide injects an antidote in his organic arm to protect him from the Phyrexian infection.
  • In Mirrodin, Tezzeret jumps into a lacunae and reaches territories occupied by the Progress Machine. Smaller Phyrexians and its praetor try to seize Tezzeret to study him, but he unleashes a powerful spell to scare them. He says no one will be harmed if they don’t harm him, and requests to see their leader. Jin-Gitaxias agrees.
  • Tezzeret is taken to Karn as a slave, but we know he always (and I mean this is his prime motivation) wanted to be the master. From his days at the academy in Esper, to his machinations with the Infinite Consortium, the Seeker was always trying to become the one in charge. Mirrodin, for him, became his new obsession. He decided to become its Father of the Machines, but first he agreed to play the servant’s role.
  • Soon, Tezzeret became the most influent non-Phyrexian in Mirrodin’s core. He gathered with Geth and Glissa in the throne room as one of them, trying to mess with their political movements (Glissa wanted Karn, who dropped the oil in Argentum, to become their leader, while others like Geth thought he was so deep in his madness that another one should take his place).

“Father of Machines,” Glissa said, her voice as smooth as the oil dripping out of her eyes. “We have council with you today.” She snapped her fingers at the minion, and the little creature scrambled over with the book, which it popped open and held up before Karn’s wide-eyed face. The silver golem looked down at the book, his face jumping to an expression of pain and then to one of anger and then to tears.

Geth could clearly see the rivulets of black oil popping out on his brow. Glissa noticed it too, Geth was sure of that. More fuel to the fire for those that said that Karn was not the true Father of Machines, no matter how much Glissa wanted to make him thus.

His body was fighting the oil, that much was certain. More times than not Geth found him that way at their councils. He found him raving mad, teetering between clarity and instability.

The oil could do that as it was moving through the pathways of the chosen’s neurological workings, Geth had been told. But that period in the transformation only took a couple of days at most. Karn had been volatile for months. His body was simply not accepting what they all were offering. At least that was what those in command said of Karn, when nobody was listening.

Glissa would not hear of it. Brothers had lost their hands and then heads. Sisters had disappeared. Since Glissa had become fully Phyrexian, with a right hand wrought and strong, and a dull scythe for a left, she listened to zero backtalk. She even refused to allow Karn his tantrums, if she could help it.

The minion, all silver and sculpted smooth, snapped his book closed and skittered away into a shadow. Glissa sauntered over to Karn and helped him stand straight. He looked down at her arm before peering around. “What is this place?” he bellowed.

“This is your throne room, Father,” Glissa said.

“Who is that?” Karn pointed.

Tezzeret stood at the end of Karn’s pointed finger.

“Father,” Tezzeret said. “It is I, your Tezzeret. Here to counsel you away from these bootlickers.” Tezzeret smiled and flexed his arm.

(Quest for Karn, chapter 6)

  • Everytime Tezzeret’s arrogance turned a Phyrexian against him, he used intimidation to prevail. 

“How do we fix him?” Geth said.

“He is not broken, dunce,” Tezzeret said. “He is not a machine.”

“But he is metal,” Geth growled, his own exoskeletal framework swelling with anger.

“So are you, and nobody’s been able to fix what’s wrong with you.”

Geth moved to swipe Tezzeret’s neck with his huge claw. Tezzeret merely grabbed Geth’s claw with his etherium hand and in a moment the claw was bent into the form of a five-petal flower.

Geth bellowed and raised his other claw.

Tezzeret held up one finger. “Attention. I will turn your other hand into something more, shall we say, anatomically correct for where I will insert it if you continue this.”

(Quest for Karn, chapter 6)

  • From the inside out, Mirrodin was slowly turning into New Phyrexia, and while the Mirran resistance fought in the surface, Elspeth, Koth and Venser were delving down through the layers to find the Panoptikon and Karn. Tezzeret appeared to them surrounded by Phyrexian minions, but they seemed somehow subordinated to him and not to Phyrexia’s great design. He helped the three planeswalkers in their quest as a double agent, but a horde of Phyrexians appeared before them, and they knew it was their end. Then we had the book’s Deus ex Machina. The planeswalkers were almost saying their last words to each other, as they knew they couldn’t survive nor leave the plane because of the oil they would take to other planes, but Tezzeret appeared and commanded the Phyrexians to stop.

The new force of Phyrexians fell on them. Venser was forced back. He looked over just in time to see a pack of large Phyrexians encircle Elspeth so that he could only see the tip of her sword doing its grim work. Then, the sword’s tip, too, disappeared from sight.

This was when he could disappear, Venser knew. This was when he could blink into the darkness and away. He was sure that the guide was out in the darkness waiting. In all likelihood he could find him. But then what? He could not leave, as infected as he was with the Phyrexian oil. He turned back to the Phyrexians.

What had Elspeth said?

‘Heroes shed no tears.’

The Phyrexians hurled themselves onto him, knocking him over. They were on him, smelling like the sewer and popping their joints as they raked their frenzied claws over him. He could not move under the weight of them.


The voice came loud and clear, and the Phyrexians froze. Venser felt a cold drip on his forehead. A huge Phyrexian was dripping black oil on him from its left eye socket.

“Pull them up,” the voice said again.

Venser was yanked to his feet.

“Good to see you again and all that,” Tezzeret said.

(Quest for Karn, chapter 17)

  • Later, Glissa gathered another huge wave of Phyrexians around Venser and Elspeth, but Tezzeret interrupted again, revealing his role in helping the planeswalkers reach Melira and bring her to Karn’s chamber. Glissa realized she had to exterminate Tezzeret, but we leave the scene when he was in an advantageous position.

The Phyrexians were formed into a crescent around Elspeth, with the left flank facing Venser. Atop the pile Glissa stood watching.

Tezzeret stepped out of the shadows, to the right of the Phyrexians’ left flank. When the nearest Phyrexian saw him, it shied back. “This was not the plan,” Tezzeret said.

Glissa looked surprised to see him. The Phyrexian advancing on Elspeth stopped.

Behind Tezzeret a cadre of blue-glowing Phyrexians looked on. Tezzeret’s Phyrexians were fewer in number, but they looked to Venser even crueler in aspect.

“Plan?” Glissa said.

“Yes,” Tezzeret said. “You have your plan. I have my plan. You sent me to get the flesh creature. I had no intention of doing that. Why would I do that when it was I who gave them the creature in the first place?”

The expression on Glissa’s face did not change perceptibly at the news. But when she spoke, there was a hitch in her voice that betrayed her unease. “Why would you give them such a creature?”

Tezzeret waved his glowing metal hand dismissively. “The creature is no concern of mine, neither is her innate ability. They will not be able to do significant damage with her. They lack the knowledge.” Tezzeret smiled at Venser before turning back to Glissa. “No, I gave her to them to get you out here.”

Glissa glanced away quickly.

“Oh,” Tezzeret said sadly. “You know I have deactivated that portal you just looked to.”

“What do you want?” Glissa said.

“Only your death,” Tezzeret said. “Geth is already mine. With you gone I control every Phyrexian in this place.”

“The Father of Machines controls his children,” Glissa corrected.

“Can’t you see that he will never be Phyrexian? It is an impossibility.”

“How wrong you are,” Glissa said. “And without me, you will not be able to control him.”

“That may be true,” Tezzeret admitted. “But what if someone else were to ascend that throne of his? This thought has just occurred to me, but what if it was someone like me? I have some metal to me after all.”

Glissa did not speak for a moment. “Why would you want that?”

“What an army!” Tezzeret said. “I would be the master, after all. I could utilize such an army to great effect.”

“The madness from your arm has greatly affected your brain.” Glissa said.

Tezzeret’s smile disappeared. “That,” he said, “is uncalled for. You have hurt my feelings. You have never known a person more in touch with his facilities as me. Now, I have a choice for you.”

“You can step away from Karn, and let me take your place, or-and this next choice is possibly the more favored by me, as I don’t like to have an enemy lingering-you can die at my hand. Either way, I cannot endure anymore of my current situation. My master sent me here and now I will make of it everything that I can.”

Glissa nodded, as if weighing the pros and cons of Tezzeret’s plan.

Meanwhile, the Phyrexians from both sides waited. Some even sat down. Venser caught Elspeth’s eye. He pushed out his chin toward the end of the passage they had been traveling down when Glissa’s henchmen arrived. Elspeth winked.

Glissa spoke. “So you are here to kill me?”

“You were supposed to have died at their hands with the main force of your soldiers, I am only here to finish.”

“That was a bad plan,” Glissa said. “I’m sorry, but it is, and it shows your inability to read a situation correctly. That is a necessity in a leader. You must learn that, or you will make other more critical mistakes than this.”

“Enough talking now,” Tezzeret said, clearly not liking what Glissa was saying.

“I agree,” Glissa said. She snapped her fingers and the pile of Phyrexians she was standing on began to wriggle and then to shake.

Venser stepped forward and tugged on Elspeth’s tunic. He gestured her to follow, and they both took ten steps back, so they were not in the middle of what was about to become a battlefield.

The pile of mangled and melted metal lurched forward, Glissa standing atop it. Tezzeret stood still and then the pile suddenly unfolded arms and legs and stood crablike to fill the passage. It wasted no time in snapping a claw made of the spine and three legs of other Phyrexians around Tezzeret.

Glissa screamed in triumph, and smiled to show long teeth dyed green with lamina.

But Tezzeret started pushing his head into the creature’s fist. He appeared to be squeezing together into a ball, until only his banded ropes of hair were visible. In a moment even that was gone. The Phyrexian giant opened his hand, and to everyone’s surprise, nothing fell out.

Venser and Elspeth took ten more steps backward. It had worked before when the Phyrexians were searching for their portal. They had been able to sneak away then, why not again? The guide was somewhere in the shadows waiting for them. Elspeth tapped the fleshling on the shoulder as they stepped back. Glissa was busy staring at the giant’s open hand and did not seem to notice their movements.

The fleshling squatted down and with Elspeth’s help, they lifted Koth between them.

Two hands appeared on the giant’s chest. One was metal and one was flesh, but both parted the metal chest as if it was a fallen autumn leaf. Tezzeret’s head poked through the hole, his eyes glowing.

Glissa, standing on the giant’s right shoulder, reached around its head and swung her scythe in a wide arc.

Tezzeret held up his etherium arm. The scythe appeared to pass through the arm. A moment later the top of Glissa’s scythe hand fell away, a blue seam glowing on the metal where the scythe had struck the arm. But not before the metal of the giant’s shoulder began to vine up around Tezzeret’s leg. In a moment it was entwined up to his waist. Tezzeret pulled to free his legs, but to no avail. Glissa took hold and swung around the front of the giant’s head and planted her feet squarely in Tezzeret’s face, snapping his head back.

Then the Phyrexians who had come with Glissa and Tezzeret fell upon one another with the tremendous sound of metal crushing into metal. The ground became a melee of blurring arms and black oil spatter. A Phyrexian nearby punched another’s teeth in, still another tore off an arm and cast it spinning aside.

When they were sure that all the Phyrexians and Glissa were busy, Venser, the fleshling, Koth, and Elspeth took ten more steps back. The shadows began to fall in around them, and they turned and ran.

(Quest for Karn, chapter 19)

  • Melira takes the oil from Karn’s body, but his heart (the first source of Phyrexian oil in Mirrodin) is corrupted. She can’t clean him completely, so Venser sacrifices himself, teleporting himself onto Karn to exchange his heart with Karn’s. Liberated, the silver golem disintegrates lots, I mean lots of Phyrexians, but he can’t kill them all, so he leaves the plane trying to reach other planes he unwillingly tainted with the oil. New Phyrexia lost him as the Father of Machines. The praetors and Tezzeret compete for power, and they arrange a meeting to discuss who should be the new Father or Mother of the Machines, but Koth detonates a spellbomb there. This is where we where left… Bolas triumphed, using one of his pawns again. 

We’d learned that the praetors were gathering in the throne room to select a new Father—or Mother—of Machines. Tezzeret was supposed to be there, too. But if so, it was probably so the others could decapitate him or steal his body parts for some grand new construct. We didn’t know if the praetors would ever be in such close proximity again. This was our last chance to do damage that they might actually feel.

Still, I couldn’t help but thinking: What is left on this world to save? I saw the praetors as the gods of New Phyrexia. I imagine that’s how they thought of themselves. “Behold, perfection.” Even if we succeeded and we killed all the gods of New Phyrexia, it wouldn’t bring an end to it. They don’t need a mind to drive that genocide—it’s inherent in the contagion itself. Elesh Norn, Sheoldred, Jin-Gitaxias—one head lost, another one grows in glorious perfection. And Phyrexia will spread, you know that as well as I do.

You know what Koth says: “If there is no victory, then I will fight forever.” But that night, I reached the edge of forever. Writing this makes me so tired, Ajani. I feel like shards of glass line my throat. I would go blind if only I could forget all that I’ve seen. Was I ready to die there, with Koth, to sacrifice myself for a greater good? He was willing. It was never a choice in his mind. Wherever he is, whatever he became, there is no doubt he is a better soul than me.

The Phyrexians zeroed in us even though we’d sealed the door. It was just a matter of time before they broke the defenses that Koth had slapped into place. The clanging of the weapons against the wall was a cadence, counting the seconds until they were inside. I felt no glory, no desire for greatness. I’ll tell you the truth—I just wanted it over. I wanted it done. I was wounded, starving, and burdened with the names of the dead from this world and others. Koth set the spellbomb.

(The Lost Confession)

Let me know if you have any doubts! Thanks for asking! Cheers!

bubltay  asked:

Request for Sasuke and Itachi having a s/o that never cries and is considered cold and strong but then they experience her cryin?

I’m imagining the crying you do when you finally break after being under too much stress and it all just comes flooding out; like fists balled, teeth gritting, you’re barely able to get two words out without gasping for air. Hard ugly angry crying, that is the crying I’m imaging for these. 

Originally posted by sasukesredemption


  • He at such a loss for what is happening, because his S/O breaking down was probably the last thing that he thought would happen. Like, here’s this strong person who could take out men in four seconds flat and could rule the world if she so desired, crying because she finally snapped. She’s finally collapsed under everything, and he just didn’t think that this day would come. 
  • Sasuke’s probably a bit unsettled by this too, because he’s just so used to his S/O being so independent and strong that to see them actually break this character is a bit surreal for him. He’s used to her glaring or smirking, but now she’s trying to wipe her eyes and regain her breathing and he’s just floored by the fact that this is the same girl.
  • He has no idea on how to deal with this at all, especially if that crying is like an angry cry that he caused. If that happens, then he will not go about it the right way, because he just doesn’t know how. He’s still wondering how whatever he did was so bad that it made his S/O go into this angry cry, let alone trying to think of how to combat it.
  • He’ll stay pretty cold towards them honestly. Probably ends up saying something like “Are you going to be fine?” but not in a caring tone? More or less in a tone that lowkey means “You need to get your shit together.”
  • Once she calms down, neither of them will even acknowledge that it ever happened.

Originally posted by lawlu


  • He probably had a gut feeling that his S/O was about to crack under whatever they had been facing. Itachi’s pretty perceptive, so he saw the cracks in their character before they finally gave into the tears, so it really wasn’t a surprise to him. Of course actually seeing his S/O cry made a pang of pain go through his chest, but he wasn’t caught off guard by it
  • Itachi would try his best to comfort them, but he knows that they may not want any type of comfort, because sometimes it’s easier to be alone in sensitive times than to have someone there. He’ll do whatever makes his S/O feel better quicker. If that means talking them through it, he will. If it means just staying with them silence, he will. 
  • He won’t make promises that he can’t keep. He’s not going to tell his S/O that everything will be okay when it’s obviously not. Itachi is going to be very realistic about the situation; he will do his best to try and reassure them, but he is going to be realistic. 
  • Itachi does not correlate crying with weakness; he more or less correlates it with finally breaking after being under so much stress and tension. And since his S/O was on the stronger side, he realized that it must have been a lot for them to finally break, so his view on them won’t change at all. He just might feel a bit guilty that they were under such a great amount of stress…

The person sat up, ichor seeping from their now empty eye socket and mouth (the eyeball and a few teeth lying a few feet away). They raised their arm and nub to give him a double thumbs up, but realized that they only had one arm “oh!”
They glanced at the nub for a moment, looking at sludge when he spoke “yea, I’d like my arm back. Can’t really do what I do without it.” They struggled to their feet, grimacing as the brick pieces moved around inside of them “that’s gonna be a bother to get out.” They stumbled over to the lost limb and tried to pick it up, missing it by a mile each time they tried.

—— @awesomegirl2999

Sludge didn’t even cringe at the golden fluids. Hell, he didn’t even blink. He wasn’t really sure if normal bodily goop was, well, gold, but he didn’t ask.
Sludge only shook his head as this stranger tried to get used to a short time of loss of depth perception. His face lit up for a moment, but it quickly faded.
“Hey, need some help there?” He asked, crouching down to their arm’s level. To be honest, Sludge kind of hoped that they’d notice that he only had the one eye.

[fic] tell the moon i love her

written for hakyonaweek day 1: i love you
maybe she loves him, maybe she doesn’t. he thinks it’s time to ask but maybe, just maybe he doesn’t wanna know. sfw.
notes: just a short sequel to when the stars go blue because i felt hurt leaving it like that, but this can also stand as a separate story, albeit a little vague. beta’d by @miah-kat Kat I couldn’t thank you enough for your fabulous job (and the fact that you put up with me lol). Thank you sweetheart!!! *hugs*


“What are we?” Hak blurts out one night. He hadn’t meant to do that but lately he’s been thinking about it so much that his mouth seems to develop a mind of its own.

“Hmmm? What do you mean?” She turns around to face him, keeping her voice low so as to not wake the others.

They are camping in a clearing near the borders of the Sky tribe. It’s near midnight, the moon full and awake, its light bright above their tents. The rest of the bunch are scattered around in the bigger tent, their breathing steady and relaxed.

“Never mind,” Hak says. There is something seriously wrong with his head, he thinks. He doesn’t know why he said it. Maybe it’s the way she sleeps, long eyelashes occasionally fluttering against her rosy cheeks, and how he wants to touch her but doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Maybe it’s all the pent up frustration of being with her but not being with her.  

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

So this one isn't exactly normal, but I was wondering is you could give head-canons (or scenarios if that's easier) for what the Italy bros, the N. America bros, and the BTT are like in a serious fight/ argument with their s/o. Not a debate, not bickering, but full out 'I've lost my temper and self-control and I'm probably going to regret this later' fight. I'm assuming the s/o is giving as good as they get here. Thank you!

((Oh dude holy shit I don’t think you understand how much I enjoy writing stuff like this I love writing characters who have lost their temper sooo much))

North Italy/Feliciano Vargas: His voice gets really shrill and he starts speaking more Italian than anything. Not only that but believe it or not, he starts pulling up a lot of dirt that you had buried a long time ago and won’t hesitate to pull up things that he knows will hurt you most. At this stage there’s not much that you can say to him that will wound him as badly as he is trying to wound you as he’s faced it all before.

South Italy/Lovino Vargas: Believe it or not, Lovino isn’t as mean as Feliciano when it comes to this. He’s still very aware of what lines and boundaries he should never cross, but nevertheless, he gets really red in the face and will just scream at you without mercy. Hands balled up into fists, he’s the type who will continue to go at it with you after you try to drop it an only heat the entire situation up more.

America/Alfred F. Jones: If you thought Alfred was loud usually you definitely had no idea what loud was. His voice risen to a roar and an uncharacteristic smile on his face, all of his perception of personal space was gone. Right up in your face the entire time, he would never touch you, but he wouldn’t ever back off either. Swear words slipping past his lips every other word, on specifically bad fights you could anticipate him punching a hole in the wall.

Canada/Matthew Williams: Matthew usually had a scary type of deadly calm around him when he fought with his partner that intensely. Voice louder than usual, about regular talking level, and his eyes sharp he made a point of making everything he said sound like a knife being thrown at you from across the room. Even if you were yelling at him, the dark cloud of doom just seemed to settle darker and darker and darker…

Spain/Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo: Seeing Antonio lose control could hands down be classified as one of the most terrifying experiences ever. Fury absolutely emanating from him, his eyes flashing, he had a bad habit of talking down to you, like you were personally annoying him. His temper explosive, he would be nothing short of yelling the entire time, in your face and unable to back down.

France/Francis Bonnefoy: Francis was not used to fighting like this, and he found himself frazzled beyond belief. Beet red and mostly communicating through extravagant hand motions and turning it all on you, he didn’t try to be nice. In fact, he was another person who fought dirty, dredging up some of the deepest, darkest things he could just for the satisfaction of the moment.

Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt: Teeth bared, a snarl locked on his face, it wasn’t even about what you were initially fighting about anymore. It was more along the lines of him hurling insult after insult at you in response everything you said and mocking you. Yelling at the top of his lungs he had to keep moving to at least help with the release of some of all this energy. Much like Alfred, he may have been more prone to punch a wall.

saverichardcampbellganseyiii  asked:

maple, fireside, cinnamon, quilt, maize (god, sorry I’m so creepy you just reblogged these but I have post notifications on)

maple - is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

I really, hugely wish I could have learned to draw but I have such a bad understanding of space… like, really bad. I can’t recognize faces and my depth perception is TERRIBLE but I feel like I have all this art inside me and I can’t let it out !!!!

fireside - if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like?

have you ever seen any of pepa mack’s OOTD posts? she’s a blogger and I hugely covet her wardrobe. I have a similar palette, aka black/white/grey and denim + neutrals + stiletto heels OR converse but only one or the other apparently 

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

well, I was anne boleyn in a past life but tbh not sure I would do that again. maybe like… ancient greece??? if I can be a rich person obviously. v temperate, beaches, good wine

quilt - how do you take your tea (or coffee)?

I like my earl grey with a little bit of lemon in the afternoons and I generally drink my coffee black. though for my first cup in the morning I drink coffee with protein powder to somewhat break my fast 

(I drink a lot of coffee) 

(way too much)

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

ooooh one time I was in my car with the windows down jamming to t-swift and this guy who was jaywalking yelled “SING IT GIRL” and I did and we air high fived

Autumnal Asks