#i refuse!!

[animeyanderelover]

I am not watching 8 seasons and 171 episodes for one stupid obsession I have with a fictional vampire.

I am not watching 8 seasons and 171 episodes for one stupid obsession I have with a fictional vampire!

I AM NOT WATCHING 8 SEASONS AND 171 EPISODES FOR ONE STUPID OBSESSION I HAVE WITH A FICTIONAL VAMPIRE!!!

[rcarx]

no shot the ending scene means that ava's been back for months and bea is leaving to go be with her. no shot!! i don't believe it!! why would they do that? if they wanted that scene to mean that they would have had ava show her face.

unless. in s3 they start with that scene and pan to ava to the side of the camera and they hold hands and they walk off (into the sunset). and s3 is about the months leading up to that point, holy war and whatever.

[billowypantss]

even though i broke up with marvel a few months ago (loki finale was the last straw) i want everyone to know that i did not and will not ever break up with tony stark. he is the love of my life, the air in my lungs, and the stars in my sky.

everyday i miss him.

[curiosity-killed]

i am Not writing this

unfortunately the concept of a high fantasy version of TCP has kidnapped me and somehow now my brain is possessed by Dark Comedy High Fantasy AU that i absolutely am not writing

wordcount: 835 cw: major character death, discussion of death, brief mentions of violence

“You,” the cloaked figure proclaimed, “have died.”

Callebero paused a moment, considering that. Altogether, it wasn’t much of a surprise: Death had favored him for years and now it did not. All things considered, Jimar was likely a warning that he refused to acknowledge. As for the rest—well, he had no expectation of the afterlife to question.

The figure waited, as if expecting some response.

“You seem to be taking this quite well,” they said after a long moment.

The figure spoke with a strange metallic ring to their voice, inhuman, like the clash of two sword blades striking. Tilting his head slightly to the side in acknowledgement, Callebero straightened and gave a slight shrug.

“That last axe strike seemed like it would cleave my heart,” he said, “and then I fell off a high cliff into one of the most treacherous rivers on the continent. If the wound did not kill me outright, it seems reasonable that I should drown or simply bleed out.”

The details of the end were fuzzy, a blur that melded them all together until he couldn’t quite remember the right sequence. If it was a side-effect of dying or simply a result of battle haze, he wasn’t sure.

Despite their cloak hiding their face, the figure’s body language wasn’t indiscernible; they shifted their weight a little, discomfort in the angle of their shoulders.

“Ah. Yes,” they said. “That is, the axe strike split your ribcage and heart open, and the Haent sped you along. The exact cause is a little muddled, as you can imagine, but it was certainly either blood loss or drowning. Perhaps both.”

Callebero nodded, accepting the information. He wasn’t sure what to do with it in the moment and so set it aside for later consideration. Or not. Whatever happened next, it might not permit time for introspection and self-reflection, and he’d never been prone to it without cause.

“And now?” he asked.

He’d never thought much of what came after death. At some point, he would die and then that would be the end of it. The end of House Soko, of Anharad’s line, of his own small existence. It had always seemed to him the kind of blunt cut found at the end of a spool of thread. Once snipped, the line simply ended.

The figure straightened, growing somehow taller. They seemed to tower at the height of the statues of saints, looming and magnificent in the sea-deep shadow. Drawing their sleeves together over their chest, they seemed to tilt their head up and took a step forward. “Now, we have a task that you must complete before passing forward,” they declared. “In order to—fu—”

In their step, they seemed to misjudge the length of their cloak and tripped, stumbling forward with their arms swinging about wildly. The motion set their sleeves to flapping like a pelican’s wings, flying about so haphazardly that Callebero took a step back on instinct. Toppling to the ground, the figure landed hard on their back and lost the hood of their cloak. Revealed wasn’t the jackal head of death but a human face, grey-tinged and bone-sharp. Callebero stared. The figure blinked back at him.

“Fuck,” they said.

“You are not Death,” he said.

He wasn’t wholly certain, but between the graceless collapse and the face, they didn’t seem like the omnipotent and ageless chthonic god of Lancine legend. In fact— He paused, canting his head to the side and frowning down at their silver-edged hands where they peeked out of the too-long sleeves.

“You’re Valeris?”

The sword of death, the inevitable end of all, the most loyal and lethal of knights, stared back at him from the ground like a fish thrown out of the sea. After a moment, they exhaled and leaned forward, bringing their hands together in front of them.

“About that,” they said. “Death’s gone missing.”

##

Walking alongside them, Callebero frowned and started to reach toward his hip.

“It would be useful to have my V—” He froze, catching himself before the name could slip out of his mouth.

Valeris glanced once at him, an eyebrow arched, and he swallowed the words.

“I’m aware,” they said. “Flattered, of course, though it is a bit wanting in creativity, don’t you think? Naming a sword after a sword.”

Flushing, Callebero ducked his head and folded his hands behind his back. When he named his saber, it had been in honor of the legend he held most dear all through his childhood and adolescence. He had never imagined he would stand next to its namesake, much less be somehow conscribed into assisting them with this wild and impossible caper.

“I suppose I can’t say much,” Valeris sighed after a moment. “Being named after Death itself after all. A bit on the nose.”

Callebero hummed noncommittally, neither wanting to agree and offend them nor quite willing to disagree and argue the meaning that the word and its story had always held for him.  

[liathgray]

Cece I’m very scared about what Ed is uncovering. All I can figure is that their into some cult like stuff and the tar pits are important to them. But I can’t figure out why the tar pits are at the center of the cover up. This was an amazing chapter!!

AAA THANKS!!!

I cannot say if you are right or wrong about any of these assumptions..... I can say that some of the ideas were unexpected though ;)

[pixelsbichoice]

I SWEAR to god if there is fucking WEDDING PLANNING in BLOODBOUND book 3 PB will catch these HANDS

[chriskreider]

the writers room continues to do chad gable so fucking dirty girl

[cryptikats]

Lemme get a, one of those, what are they, oh yeah a Wilford with a mouth?