Zahryaofspring​:

TATI GABRIELLE ph. Tatijana Shoan for AS IF Digital Cover (April 2023)

Autumnal

Tati Gabrielle for Mood Magazine

Robin Goodfellow as Shego

I could be a better boyfriend than him I could do the shit that he never did Up all night, I won't quit Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him I could be such a gentleman Plus all my clothes would fit I could be a better boyfriend I don't need to tell you twice All the ways he can't suffice If I could give you some advice I would leave with me tonight The universe must have divined this, mmm, mmm Ladies first, baby, I insist

TATI GABRIELLE ph. Raul Romo for Flanelle Magazine (January 2020)

wadecalhoun​:

          Wade typically doesn’t have a penchant for silence but he finds himself at a loss for words in face of Robin’s rallying confessions. There’s a fragment of anger at feeling obsolete when it comes to aiding her in her peril and another sliver of guilt which jabs at the tender under carriage of his ribcage when he sees the anxiety that consumes her. She’d gotten past the dagger he’d placed to her throat when he once figured her to be a demon and she had taken a sense of pity on Wade to teach him how to better hone his pitifully human senses when it came to his own mission. Now, as she laid herself out for the wolves to metaphorically feast on her flesh he was left feeling useless once more; a typical pattern when it came to their dizzying back and forth. “Y’never told me about drows,” Wade conceals his concern with a vexed carapace as if annoyed by such a perilous detail that she’d left out. He understood is was likely for his own good in face of how overwhelming it all seemed, swallowing hard as his gaze averted down to her hands, watching as they jump from one distraction to the next, toying with her drink, her own hands; he was so utterly useless. “It’s not like you’ve got a gun to my head, I’m helping,” he sits up straighter, brows contorted as he sets his own demand to aid her through such troubles knowing Robin would refuse. “These drows… wearing loved ones faces,” his mind flashes back to his father and the empty shell he’d become as an abomination rattled inside his corpse and Wade became nauseous. “Sounds mighty familiar to me,” his jaw clenched, hand curled into a fist, and he couldn’t bear to look at Robin, he’d likely crack under the pressure, staring off behind her instead, “I’m helping.”

“I never told you because we were supposed to be safe from them,” Robin states, words bitten off with frustration as a hand raises to rub her face. She can’t get a good read of his answers, can’t get a confirmation of her worries and it is slowly killing her. She needs to know, needs to know if the man she considers a dear friend has joined hands with the people that massacred the Senate’s prison, needs to know if he has a hand on the growing disappearances. Robin cannot get the answer from her little birds, cannot gain the names of the members of the organizations and while her clairvoyance all but confirms her suspicions, she needs Wade to confirm them. She needs this, needs to know the truth from his lips, needs to know if she had armed the Eye by a moment of kindness. Needs to plan and prepare and ensure that the affection she has for her dear hunter will not cause harm to her people, because she doesn’t think she can forgive herself if harms them. She cannot forgive herself if Wade harms them. “I don’t want to put this on you, not when you have a mission you need to fulfill, not when you have mentioned your rising responsibilities,” she comments, a desperate attempt to get him to tell her the truth. But even in her desperation for the truth, she is kind, and she knows what Wade is thinking about. A sad smile is on her lips as she looks at Wade, an understanding one. Carefully, she reaches out and places a hand over his fist to squeeze reassuringly. “Yeah, I guess it would, but it’s a bit different than possession. And complicated. A lot more complicated really.”

{ Tag Drop }

This is very exciting news

wadecalhoun​:

          Wade had garnered apprehension over this puerile and fanatical idea the entire night it had been concocted. He’d had his own passions and desires for destroying certain species but had learned, over time from Robin, how the fey had merely wished to live unbothered by society; integrated but never harmed. Theneras’ provocation, their senseless violence against Rome had pulled the trigger and sent a frenzied outlook onto Rome. A zealous approach from hunters who hungered for blood and destruction, intent on blind chaos rather than a pragmatic approach between the blurred lines of those who inflicted harm and those who projected peace. He already flinches as Robin’s wounded visage comes into view, averts his gaze as hands grab a hold of her.

These people, the Eye, are meant to be who he swears a blind allegiance to, but his motives have never been entrenched in mindlessly following a crowd. His story was a simple one, drowned in the blood of innocents, his lifestyle a collateral of the pain inflicted upon him. His family was murdered by a demon, destroyed from the inside out and it was within his due diligence to make that pain matter. Robin had approached him so compassionately when he’d come at her blindly with a knife all those years ago. She may have laughed in his face, defended herself, but she had come to teach him the nuances of species and he had to be grateful to her that Wade had merely survived so long based on her teachings.

Before Robin, Wade had been all ire and sinew; inflicting blind rage on demons and witches; sometimes species who likely weren’t either being caught up in his destructive path. She may not have realized she had honed in his abilities, made him a more adept hunter. He used to be able to brunt the injuries, smile through the stab wounds or vampire bites, broken bones and bloodied noses. Now, he’d learned to avoid them, play into the advantages he’d learned from Robin.

Wade clears his throat as the gaggle of Eye hunters he’d surrounded himself with make a mockery of Robin, laugh in her face. “Maybe she’s right, we dunno what waits inside.“ It’s a pathetic attempt to get them to quit while they’re ahead. The Forest will not welcome strangers and they reside on the border, Robin now a victim to their senseless games. They’re hardly listening to Wade, he’s never been a commanding authority figure and Wade takes a cowardly step back, merely overwhelmed, as he hears the flick of an iron switchblade.

...

Eight paltry words. That is what years of friendship had bought her, that is what the countless times she had saved his life had bought her. Eight fucking words. Eight words he hadn’t even meant. There is no attempt to command his fellow hunters, tension on his shoulders as he prepares to help her. Nothing but eight weakly said words said before stepping back and leaving her to the mercy of a crowd of merciless hunters. Now, more than ever, she understands Zahrya’s hate for humanity, for their weak hearts and loyalties. Now, more than ever, wishes she could keep that hate on her heart, but even now it fades as she looks at Wade an all she can feel is all encompassing grief.

She had thought — She had thought they were friends, she loves him as one. Loves him enough to make him a healing artifact, loves him enough to grant him passage unto their last defense, their last asylum, loves him enough to return to him time and time again to ensure he has been safe, that he was alright. Love and loyalty given freely over the years, because she has a kind heart that only wants to give, and yet all she has gotten as repayment is what? Empty promises to help with the drows, an infiltration when her kind is near extinction and nothing but eight fucking words to try and stop the hunters he has guided into her home.

Robin’s grief is so, that she fails to hear the iron switchblade, fails to see as it is aimed as her as she keeps her betrayed stare at Wade. Fails to do anything but to double in pain as it’s used to gut her as she screams at the searing pain trailing behind the blade. She doesn’t collapse unto herself, as she wishes, doesn’t wail aside from the first scream, keeping herself locked in place as she hears the distant echo of changelings and lycans approaching to hunt for trespassers and makes the decision to give her former friend one last kindness. Eyes raising up to meet Wade as she feels her blood leave her, she gives him a grim, sardonic smile.

“Run, Red Riding Hood, before the wolves and our protectors get you for this, run,” she says, words sharp and painful, coming out as a threat to those who do not know her, but as a warning meant to reach Wade’s ears and his ears alone.

Survive so that you can leave with your choices, traitor.