the black bastard & the stormborn (daredevil and elektra au) ✩
you desperately want to belong somewhere, with someone, which is the real reason why you sneak into fancy parties... you know what your problem is? you're pretty, you even work the blind thing, but you're dumb.
is it good? this uh... life as a queen.
it's fantastic. but i would trade it all in for a lifetime of smelling your skin.
there is always this glorious darkness inside of you, the blood of the dragon and the wolf. that's why i took you to petyr baelish, and yes it's why i loved you, that's why you loved me too. don't deny what we have.
i want to know how you found me.
i know who you are because lord bloodraven trains me in his visions. i saw you beat down the bolton bastard.
i wear a mask.
well, you can't mask that ass. i'd know it anywhere.
so, what if... from now on... if we make it... wherever you run, i run with you?
you're not serious.
i've never been more serious. this... dany, this is a part of me that i need. and you're the only one who gets it. without this, i'm not alive. i'm not. not really. i don't know what we are together, and if we have any chance in the future... but i do know that i'm free with you. like with no one else.
HAPPY NEW YEARS (BIRTHDAY) SOFI ♥
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@howthesleeplesswander || are we ready to die? i think we're ready to die 8'D
He had no concept of time down here.
Only that enough time had passed for his mind to clear, reality to assert itself, and King Magnifico to find—
Well, a dungeon cell was no more befitting a king than the mirror just as abhorrently containing him. So, what was he? After all he had done for Rosas, the sacrifices he’d made, the protection he’d offered them for years beyond count, they would treat their king like some common criminal? His queen would dare to turn her back on…
His queen.
Amaya.
Amaya.
Magnifico had run his muddled mind through the events of that day on a near tireless loop: picking at bits and pieces of his memory, recollecting flashes here, a foggy and distorted mess there. And despite all that he had gathered—a puzzle he’d had plenty of time to build—he’d yet to trace back to what had offended her so. What had antagonized her, driven her to stand against him as if he were the villain betraying the very kingdom he had built?
I built this. We built this.
And he’d promised from the beginning he’d do anything and everything it took to protect it. No questions asked. No holds barred. Magnifico used that book because he had to. The people hadn’t given him a choice; if he had let them—
No. No, no no.
We said we’d never let that happen again.
But nevertheless, here he was. Dethroned. Defamed. He’d almost convinced himself his queen planned on letting him rot eternally, but when he heard the creak of a door on that fateful day—could’ve been morning, afternoon… or perhaps his darling had decided to pay an evening visit when all had quieted down—Magnifico hadn’t needed to see her to know. Her footsteps were a recognizable rhythm, soft and elegant, down the steps. Somehow, the echo seemed to penetrate his magical prison just as well, and in some way, each beat trembled down to his core.
When she stood outside the bars, however, peered in at that loathsome little mirror on the wall, he was ready to face her. That is, he’d convinced the faint flutter in his chest that he was.
“You’ve placed a magical mirror in which I am already very securely contained—trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to determine that’s the case—within a literal prison cell,” he observed blandly, head cocking while a bitter smile tugged on his lips. “Is that not just a touch excessive, my dear?”
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@inyvat said: “I just— I just need some rest.”
“That is an understatement.” The general said, giving a sigh as he placed a hand upon her shoulder, gesturing for her to sit. “Despite everything you are, you are still human and do require rest.” He frowned. “It’s foolish for you to push yourself the way you do and it’s surprising that you made it as far as you did without collapsing.” He said, shaking his head. “Why did you follow me all the way out here anyways?”
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i saw people had been making their fives???? [credit x, x]
(+ just in case anyone's interested, i've started a zombies, run! side blog)
about Her:
huge lesbian, hugely in love with sara
considers lipstick a vital need despite the apocalypse
cries a lot
loves dogs
wouldn't hurt a fly wouldn't have hurt a fly prior to the apocalypse. remains unlikely to hurt flies, or anyone else, besides zombies
formerly an acting student, staying with her well-connected aunt in london
was recruited to mullins via her aunt, who worked there in a consultative role, and recommended her for her trustworthiness, empathy, and insight
very close to her family, particularly her mother, who was the person she trusted and talked to the most, and opened up to more than anyone else
has always been quiet; now only speaks when necessary, due to trauma caused by the apocalypse (not knowing where her family are, not knowing what happened to them, etc.)
despite her frequent silence, people can usually tell what she's thinking bc her face is so expressive
always a follower, never a leader. never considered herself a natural fit (or even a candidate, until being asked) for head of runners for this reason (also her lack of assertiveness), feels duty-bound to accept the role for sara's sake and in sara's honour (what wouldn't she do for sara smith); also knows her suitability in other ways (loyal, trustworthy, has strong morals + abel's best interests at heart), and has been sufficiently hardened and toughened by the apocalypse to do the job, despite not being a natural leader
loves paula very much. considers paula her Best Friend (would fall in love with paula if paula wasn't taken + five wasn't head over heels in love with sara)
founder of the abel drama club / amateur dramatics society. puts on plays with anyone who can be persuaded to join in (+ therefore gets stuck with simon / peter a lot more often than she'd like)
janine is the reluctant producer (probably coerced by peter lbr), and even more reluctant audience member, but secretly enjoys the performances despite herself
willing to speak during performances. audiences often surprised by the sound of her voice / accent (is also self-conscious about her speech-lessons-induced received pronunciation)
struggles to survive without television. grateful to be so busy at abel, to distract from the lack of television
janine will let her use the tv in the rec outside of the regularly allotted times as a reward if she's had been on a particularly gruelling mission
constantly harangues the radio operators to play kirsty maccoll. also tries to force everyone she meets to listen to kirsty maccoll
sara threatened people into listening to kirsty maccoll to make her happy. at knifepoint if necessary
hates when her hair grows past her shoulders
willing to cut it with a knife if nothing else is available
lived on coca-cola before the apocalypse. now hoards any and all fizzy drinks she can find
cornish, loves cornwall, loves the sea
very clumsy
blames this, every mistake she makes, and everything she ever does poorly, on her left-handedness
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While I'm thinking about Ara in a caregiver role ... I'm realizing ds!ara would have been left to care for her suffering clan. She's unsullied physically, but the horror of helplessly watching their transformations & corruption must have been about the same as watching men become beasts in her bb au. I can vividly see her setting up a bedroll in the center of a makeshift sick room or camp. She's frequently running off for water or food which she carefully sustains them on. She grows desperate & force feeds them any kind of medicine, tincture, or remedy she can get her hands on. After a certain point they no longer recognize her as the youngest of their troope ; she is simply a hand that feeds. Cursed for their avarice, their desires are foul & peculiar. One evening Ara catches one of them scarfing down gold coins. The next she's found one catatonic in the corner, clutching a particularly charming sword - neverminding how it was slicing into their hands chest & cheek. At long last, Ara believes she's found one whose gone catatonic again, ogling something of particular interest in the bottom of a chest, & so she tries to lure them away, fearing they'd break their neck if the lid slammed shut- only to find they'd melded into the wood itself. Only to find herself staring into the open, toothy, drooling maw of what we recognize as a Mimic
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have you been lonely? / hmmm <3
❛[ THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR ≻ accepting
`DIVINATIONS PERFORMED TO ALLOW THE GOD TEMPORARY GRACE UPON THIS MORTAL PLANE. The concessions and communes were kept HUSHED AND HOLLOWED to uniform libraries and cleaned desks (INTERNALLY THE ONE WHO KNOWS JUDGED // ORDER HAD LITTLE ROOM IN PURSUITS FOR TRUE KNOWLEDGE). It came as a crown upon a personal crafted visage-- - the body of one of its own CREATIONS // DAEDRA borrowed by its Master. Upon this age, upon this time, upon this select planet the reality of Hermaeus Mora was unknown-- - it wished to adjust this.
`A VOICE QUESTIONS THE GREAT KNOWER, UNLACED FROM PRAISE OR REQUEST FOR THE ESOTERIC. Something personal, something direct-- - a question very MORTAL was all that circled around the mindscape of the Prince. (THEY QUESTIONED NOT FOR IN A MANNER OTHERS HAD WITHIN THIS GROUP // XE WISHED TO UNWIND A RIDDLE SO KNOTTED IT HAD NEITHER BEGINNING NOR END). Stolen head turns, tendrils snaking over ragged shoulders and waterfalling along frame. Eyes, multiple, ATTENTIVE TO THE ONE WHO ASKED // SOMETHING ALMOST ENTERTAINED ENGULFING THE LENSE. “&– - What an atypical question to ask the Gardener of Men. Do you consider me someone who requires interaction, simply because I communicate freely with others here and now?” A question with a question was not an answer // NOR WAS IT A CONCLUSION (THE OLD ONE DID NOT LEAVE THIS ONE UP TO CONCEPTIONS AND CONTEMPLATIONS). “&– - No. You see me here, this fractional aspect of me, but I am not just so- I am at before, I am at after as we speak. I am communicating with dozens, I am communicating with multiple points of you. And if I wish it, I can embrace solitude and silence in place of collection and extraction- the Prince of Knowledge does not feel loneliness.” // @antigodeus
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