#hamartiana

[patroklides]

art commissioned from domnorian. (rebloggable version here on the artist's blog.)

for @hamartiana, since their b-day and our 6-month anniversary are coming up next month. 🥺

[teoporiuli]

@hamartiana said would you like me to be quiet ?

there is no such thing as quiet. not anymore. not now. a god cannot exist in silence; the world is all noise and light. they hear everything --- every insect on the wing, the whisper of every leaf and stalk of grass, the sounds of the stars thrumming brightly above the ever-turning earth. it exists on the edges of their almighty senses, a constant white noise that they can choose to focus on if they wish.

yet somehow, the softest sound underneath it all is laq.

one might look at him and imagine he sounds like a slow roll of thunder approaching in the distance, the rumble of an avalanche or the noise an ice shelf makes before it breaks into the sea. but he is none of those things. nothing so tumultuous or violent.

instead he’s the soft drip of water in the depths of a cave, the sound a seedling makes as it strains towards the surface of the earth, the gossamer of a bird’s feathers brushing whenever its wings beat. armazi --- wolfin, as he still chooses to call them --- can hear him still. and they love him for it.

the god smiles at the question. a grin both familiar and yet not, but it’s a gentle expression all the same.

“ no. ” they answer, briefly pressing their lips to his temple. “ i never want you to be quiet. ”

𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑨𝑻 𝑴𝑬 --- not accepting

[sladist]

@hamartiana asked :

"i've heard it was your dead kid that got impulse shot—but i'm not sure how much i buy that tale." the young super is glowering, arms crossed over his chest as he floats a few feet above the mercenary. "care to explain that before i flash fry you, deathstroke?"

this child speaks grant's name, doesn't give him the respect he deserves. his lip curls upwards behind the mask, visor narrows in his direction. "i'm not going to let a CHILD try to lecture me on the believability of my motives." and then, a laugh, loud and deep at the suggestion of "frying" him. slade lets out a rumble, a sound almost akin to a cat's purr, amused and wholly, utterly, unimpressed. "you're not a good LIAR, superboy." his sword points upwards at him and he sneers. reaches down for a hold of his pistol.

he doesn't aim to kill, doesn't kill children. would not kill this boy. kryptonite is shot into his shoulder, small dosage, hardly enough to do any lethal damage. he always comes prepared, knew that, just like the bigger blue, the smaller ones would show up on his doorstep. would seek him out for whatever he had done to wrong them. slade steps forwards, tugs the boy down to face him. "threatening someone before you assess what you're dealing with is STUPID, boy. you should've known better. i shot that kid's knee off and i can do far worse to you."

[aliasinvestigate]

" look, @hamartiana. if you're going to call me ' volatile ' , " jessica hooks her fingers in the air around the work, everything from the severity with which she punches that gesture to the cock of her head toward her shoulder mocking it. " ---- or whatever. i'm really not in the mood. "

[tragedicna]

@hamartiana / unprompted asks | accepting

"next time you make me use the gun arrow or whatever y'call it, roy, make sure you give it some upgrades, alright? you're the genius boy here," jason's tone is mostly playful in its annoyance, but their last little mission had almost been blown apart when he had to take care of a heap of bad guys with an... arrow-gun. then again, it had been on him for avoiding bringing his pistols to begin with. undercover missions could get tricky, but it was all part of their deal as mercenary-slash-superheroes. "i know you never use it, but i don't want to have that thing jamming on me again, ever."

"ya blaming your unpreparedness on me, jaybird?" the archer says, following behind the other, posture relaxed. hands tucked behind his head as he matches jason's strides.

"well, maybe you just don't know how to use it properly, dude," roy accuses, well...yeah, maybe he's neglected to take care of some of his gadgets, but he has so many...can jason really blame him for missing out on cleaning a few of them? and that jason had just been (un)lucky to select an item from his arsenal that happened to miss some maintenance?

"alright, alright, i'll check all the firearms," he says, waving his hand dismissively before patting the other on the shoulder. he knew jason had a penchant for firearms...so maybe he'll just pay extra attention to those, until he forgets to.

"well, what matters now is that this is done, we can go home and pig out," he grins, the sound of being able to eat something proper and get sleep in a bed sounded gorgeous to the archer.

[godblooded]

@hamartiana (x)

“ fuckin’ thanks, socrates. really gave me some potent i know now i know nothing. ”

the cat inclines her head to take in the ghost with a curious gaze. he’s intriguing in who he is, she thinks, because so few feel so familiar to her. if he’s left a trail of blood around the world, she’s strewn behind her the broken remnants of hundreds. just body parts and shattered memories. the cat’s hands are bloodied, yes, she sees it all the time, knows it, but she is just as bad in one important way — she destroys lives if she doesn’t end them. the cat’s a secret all on her own. selina is a complete enigma. the cat is a shadow.

brown eyes roll at exactly the same time the cat’s shoulders drop and her body drops with them, whip reaching out to wrap around an edge tight and tugs herself gracefully up to perch. she’s just a little beneath him, a couple feet, a hand reaching out to grasp an iron rung loosely. she doesn’t need it for balance; she needs it just for the stimulation, the chill through her gloves.

“ okay. yeah. and what if you don’t have a thing that does that? ”

what if your heart’s too black?

[godblooded]

"trish," jason's tone is quiet, like a tense thread. the tight, low voice he uses is a telltale sign of his remorse as he crouches beside his sister. the way she cowered and curled away sent a cold dagger of regret through him, worse than anything any petty villain or goon has thrown at him. the last thing he wants, the last thing he'll abide for is becoming one of them—the people in the streets who prey on the weaker, the meek. jason is meek no longer, but he was, once upon a time, and all it left him with is this rage, unyielding & unlovable. "sorry, alright? i didn't mean to yell earlier," the 'because i know you don't like it' remains unspoken, if only because he knows she hates showing that.

you hate everything about being incapable. is that what this is? incapability. something like it. you hate freezing up. you hate that your instinct is to freeze up, when you very well know you could put your fist through concrete and you're only a kid. but one raised voice and suddenly you're a puddle on the floor, melting until you hope you'll be there long enough to evaporate and disappear. you can't look him in the face because your spine tingles, and all that soft, soft, downy blonde that's practically fur stands up along its vertebrae. you hate yourself. you can't stop thinking about how much you hate yourself. @hamartiana is apologizing because you can't stop yourself from being the crybaby. the whimpering kitten that doesn't belong. and he doesn't deserve to feel that way, you think, because you can't handle a little volume. that's a you problem, not a him problem. "it's fine. " it's muttered so quietly, you can feel your throat barely get it out when you try. some older sister you are. you can't even take some mean words from your little brother. and what kind of hero can you be? probably start bawling at a bank robbery because someone snaps at you in a harsh tone.

[umbane]

❰❰ PANIC ❱❱, from zed to baby kayn???

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 ❰❰ PANIC ❱❱ sender comforts the receiver as they have a panic attack

Kayn wasn't always like this. There was water near where he lived in Noxus, and he would use it to bathe and wash his clothes and weapons. It shouldn't terrify him the way it does now. It shouldn't paralyze him.

But it does. The world blurs at the edges, then starts to tear. Instead of the blue expanse of the lake, Kayn's looking up at the sky above Epool, watching the birds circle, knowing that if he gets any weaker they'll eat his soft spots. He'll die out here if he doesn't find a way to move his frozen limbs, but they're stuck in the mud, sinking a little deeper with each wave that washes up the shore.

On the outside, he looks almost normal. The waves lap at his hips, the beach is calm, the breeze gentle. But there's a look on his face that betrays that he's still a child, and that his scars run deeper than he allows others to see. Kayn's breaths are shallow, his skin prickled with fear and cold.

Terror seizes his chest. Kayn can't get enough air into his lungs. He wants to crouch down, curl up into a ball until the scent of blood and silt leaves his nostrils, but he can't. If he moves, then the remaining soldiers will know he's alive as they pick through the bodies. If he moves, he'll sink deeper. He'll —

Hands grab him under his arms, lift him from the phantom mud like he ways nothing, like the sucking silt isn't even there. Water streams from Kayn's body as he's lifted from the lake and brought back to shore. A hand touches his cheek, as if to get his attention, and Kayn's eyes finally focus on the man in front of him. A stranger, before his memory comes back in a rush. Zed. He speaks to Kayn now, and though he doesn't know the shape of the words yet, they sound kind, even though Kayn knows that he's failed.

How is he supposed to make this man understand his gratitude if he can't even step into a body of water without being thrown back to the same place, every time? How will he ever put his new life to good use?

Kayn turns his face away, fury twisting his features. He's not weak, he wants to say, but words haven't found their way out of his chest since the battlefield quieted and he realised he was alone. Instead, Kayn curls up, forehead on his knees, and digs his nails into his hair, like he can tear the weakness out of him.