sorted barry

TAZ THING: Seven Divines

There were seven divines upon the world.

The first among them was Davenport, also called “the Captain” – God of Hope and Leadership, patron of sailors and explorers, whose domain was illusions. Temples to Davenport sprung up first at crossroads and ports, places of rest between destinations, the priesthood providing shelter and supplies to travelers. Maps were particularly sacred items to followers of Davenport; his holy sigil was a ship’s compass. Small shrines to him became common in inns across the world, allowing for those passing through to pray for fair weather, strong winds, and good fortune at sea. His favor was often gifted to those in trouble, desperate prayers called out in stormy seas or harsh blizzards; travelers would often describe the sudden appearance of a short man with a torch in the distance, his voice and features impossible to discern, but whose light led them to safety.

The second was Lucretia, also called “the Journal-Keeper” – God of Protection and Family, patron of historians and martyrs, whose domain was abjuration. Her temples were stark, domed buildings, and they rose first in major cities and population centers, then in crisis areas and conflict zones. Her priesthood, clad in blue and white, were dedicated to the protection of life from suffering, and took many responsibilities upon themselves: first responders to disasters, coordinators of long-term relief efforts, chroniclers of history, and absolvers of sin and sadness. Relieving another of their burdens, physical or emotional, was considered a holy sacrament for her followers. Martyrs were revered, particularly those who lived despite the burdens they bore, but Lucretia’s favor was specific – her divine grace granted only to those who sacrificed of themselves for the sake of others without thought of reward. Her holy sigil was a silver bracer, worn on the dominant hand, bearing four triangles.

The third was Magnus, also called “the Rough One” – God of Strength and Courage, patron of warriors and craftsmen, whose domain was martial. His temples (sturdy but humble structures, more of wood than stone) rose first in the Roost of Ravens, and spread quickly up and down the coast. Magnus often answered prayers, but he was not one for displays of power. He granted grace to the weak, rather than the strong, and to the fearful rather than the courageous – his power gifted where it would do the most good. “Blessed by Magnus” became a common turn of phrase, its meaning dependent on the region: unlucky, admired, or merely overly earnest. His priesthood were well-trained in carpentry, considered his most holy trade, but contained craftsmen and women of all kinds. They rarely traveled, content to serve their local communities. They blessed new families, built public works, and railed against injustice and corruption – rebellion, it was often said, was Magnus’ unspoken domain. His holy sigil was a ring, worn on the finger or on a chain around the neck, bearing etchings of a hammer, a shield, and a dog.

The fourth was Merle, also called “the Peacemaker” – God of Compassion and Revelry, patron of skeptics and healers, whose domain was nature. Shrines to Merle existed in nearly every tavern, encouraging offerings in exchange for “Party Points;” blessings which protected one’s lucidity and decision-making, and lessened hangovers. His temples were often mistaken for taverns themselves, though many were often built with courtyards or atriums open to the sea air – beaches were a favorite place for his followers to congregate. Priests of Merle were selected very carefully as vessels for his grace; those who held grudges, or who were selective in their mercy, would never find themselves wearing his garb. Forgiveness was a core part of their doctrine. Those who were wronged were expected to forgive, and those who did the wronging were expected to accept responsibility for their actions and make recompense as best they could. His clerics often served as mediators for disagreements, and his temples functioned as hospitals and dispensaries as much as public houses. His holy sigil was a book with a wood-block cover bearing the image of an owl perched atop a bottle.

The fifth was Taako, also called “the Wizard” – God of Mischief and Magic, patron of chefs and lost children, whose domain was transmutation. Any commercial kitchen worth its salt had a small shrine to Taako somewhere inside; it was considered good luck to pray to him before a busy night. But those who engaged in transmutational cooking prayed to him most fervently; one of Taako’s most common favors was protection from poison. His temples were large and ostentatious, the interiors draped in silks and tapestries and filled with the smell of food. His priests were caterers and caregivers, devoted to the study and craft of both magic and cooking. They provided food to the community; free for the poor and the hungry, at a price for the rich and well-to-do. They took on Taako’s penchant for trickery as well – pranks and jokes were prized among his followers, as well as personal beauty. The truth of his heart, though, was in their most holy sacrament: the protection of orphans. No child was turned away from a house of Taako. His temples became orphanages wherever they arose. Special emphasis was placed on the young and unwanted, who were fed and sheltered and taught his trades for as long as they wished to stay. His holy sigil was a pendant, bearing on one side the image of an umbrella and on the other a wide-brimmed hat – his priesthood’s signature vestment.

The sixth was Lup, also called “the Resplendent” – God of Fire and Empathy, patron of arcanists and adventurers, whose domain was evocation. Shrines to Lup were made with candles or braziers, and her temples (never far from a house of Taako) always contained perpetual bonfires. Offerings to her were always burned, the more extravagant the better – towns would often use the demolition of a condemned building as an opportunity to ask for her favor. But Lup wasn’t easy to please, and certain things were required to be granted her boon; a sense of humor, a willingness for excess, a rejection of cynicism, and a total dedication to friends and family. Moreso even than Magnus, Lup demanded moral certainty – certain lines could not be crossed, under any circumstances. (Though one of the key texts of her priesthood tells the tale of how Lup herself had nearly broken her own vow, once; it was a cautionary tale, meant to impress the dangers of desperation and so-called “hard decisions.”) Priests of Lup were not mediators like those of Merle, or devoted to protection like those of Lucretia, but hers were finely tuned to the understanding of others; they may stand against something while empathizing with its creation. Her holy sigil was a torch, ever-burning with a cold, smokeless flame.

The last was Barold, also called “the Lover” – God of Love and Devotion, patron of scientists and the curious, whose domain was necromancy. Temples to Barold (colloquially called “Halls of Winter”) were always near to houses of Lup, connected as they were through an unbreakable bond. His priests, clad in red robes and denim trousers, would bless weddings, perform last rites, and engage in what was termed “bright necromancy” – allowing the living to speak with the departed, or usher unwilling souls to their final resting place, or bless their remains to prevent any future meddling from less savory magic. Curiosity was encouraged, but to be engaged with responsibly: necromantic magic of all kinds was not a toy, or a means to power, but a tool to be used for the good of others, and with the consent of the dead. His doctrine stressed connection and dedication to another as sacred, “anchors” from which divine grace flowed into all things. Barold’s favor was granted not to those who devoted themselves to knowledge, but to people, wholly and entirely – as with Magnus, “blessed by Barold” became a common phrase, referring to those who were head-over-heels in love. Barold’s holy sigil was a coin; one side bearing his profile, the other bearing his beloved Lup’s.

There were seven divines upon the world, though they walked upon it no more.

And their influence would never be extinguished.

i want a 10k fic that’s just kravitz chasing barold j bluejeans around for the 10 years before the taz balance arc starts because barry is literally the only one he can actually chase with any sort of success but barry is also a wicked talented wizard and necromancer and always escapes before kravitz can actually catch him (methods of escape include: being crushed by poisonous vines and peacing out in his lich form; yelling ‘look over there!’ and then when kravitz ACTUALLY looks he casts blink and is gone before kravitz knows what’s up; yelling ‘look out!’ and then when kravitz laughs like ‘lol not falling for that’ krav just gets hit by a like, train or something and gets blasted back to the astral plane so barry escapes; literally just barold saying ‘can we PLEASE do this another day i’m too tired’ and then kravitz being so shocked that he just kind of. lets barry go before he realizes what happened; barry actually getting into a huge magical fight with kravitz and you get a super old reaper fighting a super talented necromancer with at least 100 years of practice and it’s honestly a great battle; kravitz trying to grab barry’s soul while he’s still in his human form but lich!barry left a message on the stone of farspeech saying ‘if a super handsome dude in a cloak with beady eyes and looking like he could be pissed about a spell you used to kind of kill his corporeal form once just comes up to you, kill yourself immediately, just trust me’; and other similar sorts of hilarity that leads to barry probably tripling his death count at LEAST)

anyway if you think about this, that awkward little wave that barry gives kravitz in story and song is way more fucking hilarious in this context


wink wonk 

I spent a long time on this and still made a million mistakes so enjoy my garbage please 

a concept

merle officiating lup/barry and taako/kravitz’ baller double-wedding. the ceremony is going along smashingly, there’s not a dry eye in the house. then they start reciting the vows and hit a teensy little snag. “till death do us part.”

merle reads it out gravely, and there’s a moment of silence as all four of them try to conceal their giggles at the complete and utter contextual ridiculousness of that sentence. kravitz sort of awkwardly coughs to hide his laughter, taako’s biting his lip to hold it in, lup’s shoulders are noticeably shaking, and barry just sort of holds his breath and tries to turn his face away bc he knows if he so much as makes eye contact with his soon-to-be wife he’s gonna lose it. 

in the end, kravitz is the first to break. he lets out an undignified snort and the other three follow immediately. lup and taako are just fuckin wheezing, barry’s doubled over slapping a denim-clad knee, and kravitz just has his face buried in taako’s shoulder giggling uncontrollably. 

and merle is trying desperately to maintain decorum but every time it seems like they’ve calmed down enough to resume the ceremony one of them will start laughing again and the rest crack up too and it’s basically like. this, but quadrupled. 

and that’s the last time merle highchurch ever officiates a wedding, although, come on, with the twins what else could he have expected. 

maplegh0st  asked:

Not a problem! I really enjoy you're writing! Ok, so this one I'm going to leave a lot up to you: How do you think Taako dies? How old is he when he does? Who greets him afterwards?

There’s a hell of an argument over the honor. It’s a no-holds-barred, all-cards-on-the-table sort of thing. Barry pulls out the long conversations they had on the Starblaster, both about Lup and not; Lup pulls out the fact that she’s his fucking twin sister, c’mon, guys; Kravitz points out that he’s Taako’s husband and, might he remind you neophytes, the Original Grim Reaper, so he has seniority on this for sure.

When Taako’s not around, the argument is loud and flaming. When he is, it’s carried out in quiet whispers and sharp hisses. (They think they’re being subtle. Taako is incredibly amused.) 

Then, one day, it is pulled to an immediate end.

The three of them are out on a bounty for a low-level necromancer. It’s more of a social outing than anything, really, because the thought that this cowering halfling could do them any real harm is laughable. So when the Raven Queen summons them, all three retreat immediately to the Astral Plane. If this has to do with Taako - and there is an excellent chance it will, because there is deep white in his hair and wrinkles lining his forehead - then it is infinitely more important than some pitiful dark magician.

The Raven Queen looks how the Raven Queen looks: sharp wings, taloned limbs, radiating order and benevolence in equal measures. She and Lucretia get along well, in the afterlife, for in what is there more balance than death?

It is almost Taako’s time, says the Queen, wings flaring, and all three of them nod.

Have you come to a consensus? she asks, and they instantly begin squabbling like children. She allows their argument to persist for several moments, amused, before stilling it with a single outstretched hand, fingers hooked like claws on the end.

Good, she says, and smiles, sharp teeth hooked at the edges as her mouth pulls back into a smile too wide for her narrow face. For the Elf has already chosen his chaperone.

All three of them stand straight, equally convinced it’ll be them. They’re his brother his sister his beloved. Of course he’ll pick them.

His chaperone is none of those things.

A small figure steps out from behind the dais and says, “Hello, sirs,” grinning a grin far too smug to be sheepish.

Strictly, they’re not allowed to tell Taako when he’s going to die. That said, Taako is far too perceptive for any of them to keep it from him.

He greets the day with all of his familiar dramatics, dressing himself in all black and draping a veil over his face for the occasion. He insists on holding a party for dinner, and their dining-room table, once filled with dozens, now seats four.

Around midafternoon, he settles down to take a nap from which he will not wake up.

They’re there, of course. Lup and Barry and Kravitz. They’re all so sad, like this is goodbye, like this isn’t really just an opportunity to change up the scenic vista for a couple millenia.

“Bet you were all real pissed when you found out,” he says, and if his voice is as weak as a whisper, well. No one comments.

“Furious,” Lup says, voice cracking.

“She wanted to kill you,” says Barry. “I stopped her.”

“Thanks for that,” says Taako, and pats Barry’s hand, which is on his knee.

Kravitz doesn’t say anything.

“Last words?” Lup says, and she’s crying, of course, but she’s smiling despite it.

Taako shrugs. “Last words are for people who haven’t said enough.” He closes his eyes, and grins. “That one’s a Legato original.”

With trembling hands, he twists his wedding ring off his finger. It’s difficult, both because he’s shaking and because he’s got so much jewelry on already - all transmuted black for the occasion, of course, save this simple golden band. Without opening his eyes, he folds it inside his palm, and moves that hand toward Kravitz, who takes it in his own. After so long, the touch of Kravitz’s chilly fingers is as familiar as his own.

“There better be weeping after I’m gone,” Taako says, and huffs out a tired laugh. He’s the only one, but, hey. Not all of his jokes can be winners.

And, holding in his hand his husband’s wedding ring, Taako dies.

He wakes up in a world of white, a portal open and waiting from him some dozen paces away.

Ring still clutched between his fingers, Taako pats his own chest, then his face, and grins. “Hell yeah,” he says. “Beautiful as fuck again.”

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder. It’s not the hand of the young boy he met on the Rockport Limited, but the worn and calloused hand of a human man, scars ringing his hands through years of fieldwork and successful puzzling. “Hello, sir,” says the voice of Angus McDonald, and Taako’s breath catches for a moment.

He bypasses the arm entirely and pulls Angus tight to him. Angus lets out a small oof as their chests collide. “It’s been too long, bubbeleh,” he says.

“I’m glad you took as long as you did,” says Angus, and pats Taako on the back. He’s always been better than Taako at hugs. He learned from Magnus, after all. Then he pulls back and studies his mentor keenly, and Taako does the same.

During Taako’s visits to the Astral Plane, his family had appeared a bit ghostly, separated from him by a thin spectral sheet. But now Angus appears just as full as he had in life, tooth chipped from his long-ago spill of the Rockport Limited and cheeks flushed with obvious joy. “My beautiful magic boy,” Taako says, and holds out a hand. “You gonna escort me to hell, pumpkin?”

“With pleasure,” Angus grins. He takes Taako’s outstretched hand in his own, and together, they step through the portal.

It leads onto a grassy field atop a hill, and with Angus’s hand still clasped in his own, Taako emerges before a small cabin atop a quiet lake of swirling souls.

Read the rest of my TAZ Nano writings here!

Taako’s last words are a paraphrased version of the quote “Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough” by Karl Marx. 

anonymous asked:

Not sure you got my ask about the last coldflash scene, about the poking scene. I want to know your thoughts about that. It was such a sweet moment from len it totally caught me off guard.

Originally posted by vixenvibe

It gets me, anon. It really does. 

Like here Len is giving Barry advice. Acknowledging there’s a dark side to him and agreeing that it’s what allows them to get along. That it’s what makes so they can understand each other. We know that Barry inspires Len (thanks to the speedforce), and has an impact on him, especially as of 2x03. But the last time Len saw Barry, he was still in denial of that, of wanting to be a hero.

Originally posted by dailycaptaincold

For Len, assuming this is a Legends S1 Len, that was only a few months ago. He wasn’t ready to commit back then. But then Barry comes along and again asks for his help, this time purely for the “true love” motive of saving Iris, and Len actually gives in and says yes this time. He comes along. He helps Barry while demanding nothing in return, except the joy and satisfaction of breaking into ARGUS and pissing off Joe West, presumably.

And it’s so interesting to me, that he’s gone through these stages, of denying he wants to be a hero and denying he has good in him, to going on the Legends trip while pretending (including to himself) that he has ulterior motives, to accepting that… what Barry sees in him is real. That the good part of him is real, however he tried to hide it. 

And that leads to this understanding that maybe why Barry could get through to him in the first place, why he ended up having a soft spot for the kid and making sure he didn’t die (despite betraying him) and why he made a deal with him in the first place, just all of it… maybe that came about in part of because what he sees in Barry. What they understand about each other.

Because Len puts his bad face out to the world and Barry puts his good face out. And Len sees underneath and around that happy mask Barry sometimes wears. In the woods, Barry threatened him, said that if Len goes after his family again, he doesn’t care, he’ll take Len down.

Originally posted by flashallens

There was a mutual understanding there, and I think Len saw it then, but didn’t quite understand fully what it was, yet. Barry’s capacity to be ruthless.

But now… now they’re in different positions. Barry doesn’t just have that latent potential, he’s starting to act on it, and Len sees it. Sees that Barry picked him for this job in part because of it, because he didn’t expect Len, of all people, to call him out on being ruthless and willing to kill.

But of course, Len is contrary and has gotta defy expectations,right? Because as the guy who was inspired by Barry in the first place, that’s troublesome. The heroes, the guys like Barry, are supposed to try and be better. They’re supposed to be what you aspire to.

But it’s also understandable, because he’s been there, he gets it. So when Barry doesn’t leave him behind, proves that the good in him still outweighs the darkness Len knows, has felt, can feel, he takes a little risk in expressing his relief, in his own way, and reminds Barry of the important role he fills, as a hero.

Originally posted by comicbookdaily

The role that he fits in Len’s life, though he doesn’t say it, as an inspiration to him. The Flash is a hero. Should stay that way. You should stay that way, Barry. Leave the killing to guys like me. Your suit doesn’t need the dust and tarnish, let me clean off those specks of lint and help keep your image clean.


It’s just a lovely moment, highlighting all the ways that they foil each other. And it surprised me with the openness, but given just how open Barry’s been with him, and how Barry’s seen him at some of his most vulnerable, and how Len’s in this kind of different place and recognizes that their dynamic has evolved and he’s in a position to affirm Barry and admonish him and also, maybe, do some inspiring of his own, to keep Barry on the path of the light? He takes that chance. He repays the trust Barry has in him in kind.

Greg Berlanti Shows Ranked

If Arrow is a bit too brooding, and Supergirl is a bit too saccharine, then The Flash is the happiest of mediums between the two. Easily the best of Berlanti’s comic-book offerings, The Flash successfully mixes heartbreaking drama (Barry saying goodbye to his dying mother), romance (‘WestAllen,’ anyone?) and immense fun (Cisco!). Take note, DC superheroes: Wearing your heart on your sleeve isn’t such a bad thing.

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