#i gave her swords cause its what she deserves

[riotphoenyx]

Did I ever post these here?

I dont think I did 😅

Photos by @tlt-wm and @chrismaghintay

#rwby #my cosplay #rwby cosplay #bumbleby #blake belladonna #blake belladonna cosplay #blake rwby #concept art blake #blake concept #i gave her swords cause its what she deserves #rtx 2023

[nicoline1998enilocin]

I have a request for loki x fem!reader based on wandavision, where the reader is dead because of endgame or infinity war instead of loki, and he is not taking it well like AT ALL So one day, he storms in s.h.i.e.l.d and demands a funeral for the reader but they refuse. So he drives somewhere in Westview and just full-on cries and falls to his knees cause she gone and just yells out all his anger and loss and creates a whole reality and brings the reader back. And you know his happy with her but doesn't know that he took thousands of people hostage and their feeling his pain, and he doesn't even realize it. So he likes haves kids in the fake reality, and sword tries to get him to take it down, but of course, he doesn't until reader finds out about it all sensing about how their kids are the only ones in Westview and loki tries telling her their probably all sleeping or their all in their rooms but reader doesn't believe him and since the reader was so smart before she died she realizes that he trapped a whole town to recreate her and she tells him that she has to take the whole thing down but loki begs her because he doesn't want to leave his family but she tells him that it's alright and he takes it down and sees how much pain he put the people of Westview through. And then he creates another reality where his reading THE DARKHOLD. hope this is acceptable 🙏 😌.

Living our 'perfect' life | Part 1

PAIRING | Fiancé!Loki Laufeyson x Fiancée!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.2K

SUMMARY | You won the fight against Thanos, but you weren't there to celebrate with all the others, since you didn't get to see it through to the end. Loki doesn't take it well and is hellbent on giving you the proper send-off you deserve, but when SHIELD dismisses him he goes on a warpath to get you back, and he doesn't care who he takes with him in his pain. All he wants is to live the life he desperately wanted, with you by his side.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. This fanfiction takes place right after the battle against Thanos in Avengers: Endgame, but the events I discuss definitely aren’t canon but just my imagination. Major angst, swearing, character death, nervous breakdown.

A/N | Thank you so so SO much for this amazing request @glitteryeggalmondherring, it gave me goosebumps from the moment I read it, and it gave me so many ideas I couldn’t wait to get started! This will be split into two parts, otherwise, it would be too long and I want each part to have its own storyline.

I hope that I could do your request justice and I hope you will enjoy what I wrote. I wasn't able to get through this without crying constantly because I felt so bad for Loki, so I will apologize in advance to anyone who couldn't get through this without tears! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | Part 2

Everyone around the two of you is celebrating, because you won the battle against Thanos. Not the two of you, however. You can't celebrate anymore, because you didn't get the chance to see the end of the fight, you were one of many casualties that happened during the fight. And your fiancé Loki was holding you in his arms, clutching you closely to his chest while his sobs tore through the entire battlefield. No one seems to notice, however, because they're all too busy with their cheers, celebrations, and their big win. But not Loki, because he would never celebrate another win ever again. Not without you by his side.

''No, no, no, darling, please! Please don't leave me, I need you by my side,'' Loki sobs as he's clutching your body close to him, his head resting on your lifeless chest. No more heartbeat to be felt, no more breath to be heard, no more movement to be seen. When he looks into your eyes he sees nothing but emptiness. Staring into nothing, cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him. Those eyes he fell in love with years ago, that always showed nothing but love for him, that looked at him with nothing but adoration, but that could also be looking so good when you were completely fucked out underneath or on top of him.

''Y/n, please,'' is the last thing he says as he holds you close to him. He can't talk anymore due to how much he's been crying, his throat is completely raw and his voice is practically non-existent. He screamed so much, heart-wrenching screams and cries could be heard for miles and miles, yet no one cared. No one but him, or so he thought. Because looking from a small distance was Thor because Loki isn't the only one who lost you that faithful day, Thor lost the woman he loved like his sister, but he's keeping his pain inside, trying to be strong for Loki. He allowed a few tears to stream down his cheeks, but he quickly got himself back together as he walked over to his brother.

''Brother, she's gone. There's nothing we can do for her,'' he says, almost matter-of-factly, and it scares Loki a little. Usually, he was the one who was cold, direct, and didn't care about what others felt. But when it comes to you, he would give everything to be in your place. You deserved to live such a long life, but you didn't get the chance. You don't get to live the life you'd always dreamt of, the one you and Loki have talked about so many times. The one that got ripped away from you without a second thought. Loki could do nothing but sob, he couldn't think, he couldn't speak, he could barely breathe. The crying has taken over his entire being as he softly places kisses all over your face as a last goodbye.

Loki knows he has to leave you behind, but he can't get himself to do it. He can't get himself to set you down, get up and walk away. Doing that would mean goodbye. And he isn't ready for that, he would never be ready to say goodbye to the love of his life. ''I can't,'' he whispers, and Thor just sits down by his side. He knows that there is no point in convincing him otherwise. Shortly after, the other Avengers are slowly sitting around the two of you in a big circle. Everyone is either crying, looking at you and Loki, or holding each other tight as they're starting to accept the fact that their teammate is no longer with them.

No one says anything, just letting Loki do what he has to to let you go. But he can't, he will never be able to let you go, because this goodbye wasn't supposed to happen. He had closed your eyes by now because he wasn't able to look at your eyes without feeling a sharp pain across his chest. He did notice all the Avengers surrounding the two of you, and he felt like your entire family was here, grieving you. He knows he isn't alone in this, but it hurts him so much, he can't think about anything else but you. Your smile, your laughter, your mischievous looks, oh how he loved those looks when you thought of a new plan to annoy or prank someone.

That is exactly the reason he fell for you, and he fell hard. Literally. Because when you were relatively new to the Avengers, you heard about the God of Mischief himself and immediately thought of a plan to prank him. It was such a simple, stupid trick but it worked wonders every single time, and you almost peed yourself from laughter when it worked. You were in the kitchen and told everyone who was there, that you hung a string in the hallway to the kitchen, except for Loki. All the others noticed it and stepped over it, but Loki didn't, and since he was in a heated discussion with Thor (who almost tripped too, thank you very much), he never noticed it and fell flat on his face, a deep groan leaving his chest as he went down, and a loud thud could be heard when he made contact with the floor.

You immediately started laughing so hard your stomach started to hurt, and you could barely breathe, laying on the floor trying to catch your breath, and it was the most wonderful thing Loki had ever seen. When he got up he wanted to get mad, but when he saw you it all melted away instantly, and he knew he was a goner from that moment on. ''So, you're the one who pulled this little stunt?'' Loki asked when you were finally able to breathe again, and you nodded with a wide smile. ''I can't believe I managed to get the literal God of Mischief with such a single prank!'' you said. ''I'm Y/N Y/L/N btw, it's nice to meet you,'' you said with an outstretched hand, which he took in his hand and brought to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. ''Loki Laufeyson, it's an absolute honor to meet you,''.

When he thought back to that moment he smiled a little through his tears, shaking his head. ''You always loved to prank people,'' he whispered to you, as best as he could. ''And I loved you even more because of it,'' he said, remembering everything you did, either with or without him. Because when the two of you were together, no one in the Compound would be safe. ''I'm going to miss her,'' Steve said finally, and everyone agreed. ''We all love her, Loki, always remember that. She fought and died doing what she loved, and we will always love her. She will always be one of us, and I promise that she will never be forgotten,'' he then said, making Loki nod softly as he placed one more kiss on your forehead. ''I love you, darling. I promise that I will find you in every single lifetime after this one,'' and with those words, he set you down and got up. Walking away, because he couldn't handle staying there any longer.

~ One week after the battle ~

The last week has been hard for Loki, he barely came out of his room and hasn't eaten anything since he arrived back at the Compound. He hasn't talked to anyone either, he was grieving the loss of the woman he was going to marry soon. A marriage that would never take place now, and it ate away at him. The Avengers just let him be, only Thor came to check up on him every few hours. ''I'm going to get her the funeral she deserves,'' Loki suddenly says, already thinking of the plan that he was going to use. ''She doesn't deserve to just be shoved into a mass grave with all the other people that died,'' he said, tears staining his cheeks again. He has barely stopped crying, the only moments he didn't cry were when exhaustion took over his body and lulled him into a restless sleep filled with nightmares.

It isn't long after that, that Loki barges into the SHIELD headquarters, dead set on getting you the funeral you deserve, because you died a hero. He searched the entire building until he finally found the person he was looking for, the one and only Nicholas Joseph Fury himself. ''She needs to get the funeral she deserves, she doesn't get to be thrown into a fucking mass grave with all these other nameless people like she meant nothing,'' Loki said, raising his voice at Fury immediately. He wasn't fazed in the slightest, however, and didn't react to Loki. ''Do you fucking hear me? She died a hero to save all our asses, she doesn't deserve what she got!'' he yells at him and Fury finally looked up at the God.

''No, she doesn't get one. She may have fought just like the rest of them, but I know for sure she didn't die a hero,'' he says. ''She doesn't get a funeral, because no one who died that day gets a funeral, and your fiancée isn't going to be the exception to this rule,'' he says and Loki can't believe this. ''You're fucking kidding me, right? She died so we had a chance to live. She died so we could win the battle, which is more than can be said about you. YOU WEREN'T EVEN THERE!'' Loki says before storming out of Fury's office, wreaking havoc wherever he goes, destroying the building with his magic, and not giving a single damn about anyone that gets injured.

When he's outside he just opens a random car with his magic, gets into the driver's seat, and turns it on. He drives far away from New York, away from the life he once lived, the life he shared with you because it is too painful to stay there and be constantly reminded of you. He drove for hours and hours until he couldn't contain his emotions anymore, and he stopped on the side of the road in a town called Westview. He got out of the car and dropped to his knees, screaming until his lungs burn, until every single muscle in his body is giving out and he falls onto the ground, his knees hitting the pavement with a loud thud. He doesn't care however, he doesn't care about the pain, because it's nothing compared to the loss he feels.

He can't contain his tears, and turns into a sobbing, screaming mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown. When he keeps thinking about you, he tips himself over the edge and a large burst of magic bursts out of him. ''FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUCK!'' is all he can scream at this point, rocking back and forth as he's almost folded into himself, his hands on the back of his head, heart-wrenching screams leaving his chest, tears streaming down his bright red face, eyes completely bloodshot from the hours and hours of crying. The exhaustion catches up with him once again and he completely blacks out on the side of the road. His body can't take anymore, and it shut down completely to save himself.

A little while later he wakes up again and is very disoriented, but as he gets up the pieces fall into place. SHIELD headquarters, the drive, his nervous breakdown, everything comes back to him. And right at that moment a thought hit him, and he's mad at himself for not thinking about this sooner. ''I'm going to bring you back, darling. I can't wait to see you again,'' he says and he creates a huge dome around himself, trapping the thousands of people in Westview inside of it, but he doesn't realize it. When the dome is created he uses his magic to create a new reality within it. He walks through the streets and when he is walking past an ice cream shop, he suddenly spots a very familiar face.

''Loki? Is that you?'' you hear as the person who the voice belongs to walks out the door, and towards him. ''Y/N, you're here,'' he sighs and he pulls you in for a big hug. You're not real, but in the fake reality Loki created you are, and the two of you are still engaged to be married. He finds it hard to believe he did it, and that he's holding you in his arms once again. When you pull back you feel his lips on yours again, and it's like not a single minute had gone by since the last time you kissed. ''I love you, so much. And I can't wait to marry you,'' you tell him, and he nods. ''Neither can I, darling. I'm looking forward to it more than you'll ever know,'' he says, touching your face with his hands, rubbing circles on your cheek.

There is one thing Loki failed to notice, however. Everyone in this town that already lived there, is feeling the pain Loki is experiencing alongside him, because he trapped everyone inside his head, inside the reality he created for himself. All he notices is you, and how good it feels to have you back with him, right where you belong, and he doesn't have to feel his pain anymore. His most precious artifact is back, and he plans to never let you go, ever again. He can't go through the pain of losing you again, and he doesn't plan on doing so.

#loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki laufeyson request #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki laufeyson angst #loki #loki fanfiction #loki request #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki angst

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

Clarity.

Catra's mind was a whirlwind. She sat at the same spot she used to hang out with Adora for years, since they were children. Everything has changed now. Adora has left her— left the Horde, Catra corrected herself. After Adora had left, anger and pain had been steadily building up inside Catra until she couldn't recognize herself in the mirror.

She remembers opening the portal, her fingers wrapped around the smooth metal as she looked back at Adora, her heart brimming with spite and vengeance. If she can't win, no one can. Especially not Adora.

It had sent them into a time warp. Everything was perfect again. Where Adora was hers and they were both on the same side, as it was meant to be. But soon Adora had begun to see the cracks within reality and piece together what happened. And she turned on Catra again. It's as though Catra was forced to relive the same consequence, regardless of how hard she tries to change things. Adora isn't going to stay.

Catra had been so engulfed by her rage and betrayal that she had turned into the very person she swore she'd never become, the person she hated the most. Shadow Weaver. Catra believed that Adora deserved everything Catra did to her - the torture, the manipulation, the guilt tripping. Catra believed that her actions were justified, after all, how could Adora abandon her like that?

She made me into the monster that I am.

Then Adora had spoken. For the first time, Catra saw rage ignite in Adora's eyes - rage and something else. Hatred. Adora pushed her off, no longer holding back. "I didn't make you do anything!"

Catra was too stunned to process this reaction. Always, Adora had pleaded to her, apologized and tried to please her in any way possible. Catra had never seen such defiance in Adora. She was always the good girl, the people pleaser.

She growled and clenched her fists, charging at Adora. She immediately got flung aside.

"But you? You made your choice. Now live with it!"

Catra instinctively touched her cheek as she remembered the punch Adora had delivered. A tremble ran through her body as she recalled Adora's expression after she managed to close the portal and get out safely. That glare. It said everything words couldn't. Adora despised her. There was no going back.

Catra sighed, burying her face in her hands as shameful tears rolled down her cheeks. That one reaction from Adora was enough to make Catra question everything. How right was she? Did Adora ever even leave her?

"Come with me."

Catra clearly recalled at least two instances where Adora offered her a way out. But she was too stubborn to choose the right path. Too arrogant, thinking that becoming a force captain and getting revenge on Adora would fix everything. It didn't. It only caused more problems.

It caused that steady downwards spiral that Catra kept digging herself into, refusing to face the facts. I was wrong.

It takes courage to admit that you were wrong all along, Despite all the self-loathing, Catra still wanted to believe that her actions were justified, and that her pain and trauma excused everything. Well, no more. She had to admit to herself that she had been a horrible person, and it was no one else's fault. Adora had every right to hate her. She chose the paths she took and she had to pay for it.

Catra packed her stuff and headed out.

***

Adora had just fought away some more Horde soldiers and war robots. She was currently in the village while its citizens thanked her, relieved to be safe again. For the time being, at least.

It was then that she saw a familiar figure far away. Her heartbeats quickened as she steadied herself, one hand on her sword. Glimmer and Bow noticed the change in her expression and their eyes darted towards the same direction. Glimmer put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's take that cat down."

Adora gave her a quick nod and walked towards Catra, leaving the village behind, her friends right beside her. She came face to face with Catra, a frown on her lips.

It was then she noticed how defeated Catra looked. Her eyes looked like she had been crying. Her signature smirk was gone, so was her usual confident gait. She just looked like a shell of the person she used to be.

Adora's eyes narrowed. Was this a trick? A ploy to manipulate her and strike her when she's weak again? She drew out the sword.

Finally, Catra spoke. "I'm not here to fight."

"Oh yeah? What are you here for then? To kidnap her? Torture her as you always do?" Glimmer's voice was laced with fury. "Or is this another attempt to — I don't know — end the world?"

Catra shook her head. "I'm here to apologize."

Silence. The trio didn't know what to say. Adora raised her sword, her brows furrowing. There's no way Catra is actually apologizing.

"I know—" Catra's voice caught in her throat and she struggled to get her words out. "I know that what I've done is unforgivable. I've mistreated you all this time, the same way Shadow Weaver treated me. The way she treated both of us. And I've been actively participating in everything the Horde stood for. I put the whole world in danger, just because I wanted to see you lose."

"You killed my mom." Glimmer said, unable to keep a tremor out of her voice. Catra didn't reply with a snarky remark, she didn't let out her signature chuckle.

"I'm sorry about your mom." Her shoulders were slumped. Adora slowly re-sheathed her sword, still wary. "I'm sorry for everything. There's no excuse to what I've done. I'm just a horrible person."

"Yes. You are," Adora replied, her voice unfaltering. "I appreciate the apology, Catra, but I can't forgive you. I won't."

Catra flinched. She expected this but it still hurt to hear. "I understand. You have no reason to forgive me, and it's unfair of me to expect that from you. I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. I— I left the Horde. I don't want that life anymore, I'm sick of it." Her voice became slightly eager, hopeful even. "I want to start anew, leave everything behind. I can't fix what I did in the past, though I would give anything to do that. But I want to be better from now on, at least."

She saw Adora's expression soften, just a little bit. Or maybe she was just imagining things. Why would Adora feel sorry for her?

She continued, squeezing her eyes shut so that she wouldn't see Adora's reaction. "Right now, I'm confused. I need some clarity, I need to find myself." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "All my life has revolved around you and Shadow Weaver. I never stopped to think about who I am outside of that. And I'm going to do that. And I promise I won't disturb you anymore. I won't hurt you anymore."

She opened her eyes, half-scared of what might come next. Adora's expression was ambiguous, it looked like she was feeling a mix of emotions. Glimmer still looked unconvinced, while Bow seemed confused.

Adora let out a sigh. "Good luck on your journey. I'm glad you finally came to your senses." There was something resembling a smile on her lips. But her eyes still held the same resent and hurt.

Catra's eyes went wide. Whatever it was she expected to hear, it was not that. She nodded and mustered a small "thank you". She turned to Glimmer.

"Please take care of her. She deserves the world."

"Oh, I'll take care of her. Better than you ever did," retorted Glimmer. Catra didn't argue. She deserved that.

With a half-smile and a wave, Catra left the place. She drew in a deep breath as she headed to Beast Island. She can't ever be forgiven, but she'll be damned if she lets that hinder her growth. It's time she allowed herself to heal.

It's never too late to change.

***

#there i fixed catra's redemption #it's not that hard nate #spop #spop fanfic #fanfic #catra #adora #anti catradora #glimmadora #glimmer #bow #spop catra #spop glimmer #spop adora #spop bow #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #she ra spop #she ra adora #she ra fanfic #spop rewrite #she ra rewrite

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99

The Prophecy Of Imortal Fire 3

"You what?!" Elias practically yelled. "He Stabbed me!" "Yeah like 10 years ago! Give or take! Why would he lie now?! Listen, I've met his father. Not a nice guy, and not easy to beat in a fight. Even if Alistar was doing this for his father, he wouldn't have any chance against him in combat!" Ella argued. "Ella... he almost killed you! He kidnapped children, and your father.... he killed me for a hot second! He called you names, gave you trauma, hurt you! Broke you! How can you trust that?" Elias asked. "I don't! I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but right now we don't have a choice!" Ella answered. Eli looked over at Alistar, glaring before his eyes softened. He sighed. "Fine. He can't wield a sword with a broken arm anyways," he muttered. "Youd.. be surprised...." Alistar replied, earning some looks from the group. "Oh.. god, no! I learned my lesson! Besides i-...." alistar trailed off as he glanced at Ella and Eli's kids in the other room. "I wouldn't take a parent from their kids," he muttered. "No, but you'd take a kid from her parents," Loreley spat. "... I'm sorry," Alistar spoke. Eli scoffed. "Dont say it to us," he muttered, glancing at Ella. Alistar looked down, embarrassed. Eli rolled his eyes. "Coward," he muttered before walking out of the building. Everyone followed. Except for Ella. Ella hesitated. "We were friends you know...." she stated. ".. I know," Alistar replied. "What in the world happened to you after we stopped contacting one another that day?" Ella asked. "Too much to fit into one conversation....." He whispered before looking at her. "I'm sorry. What I did was selfish, and wrong, and shitty. You didn't deserve that.... and fucking hell you are NOT fat. You never have been. And if I could go back in time, calling you that would be the first thing I changed," Alistar ranted. Ella kept a distance between the two. "I did what I did because I was in love with you....but my father taught me that love was weak.... and seeing you choose someone over me... broke me... and it reinstated the fact that love was weakness.... so I thought I could marry you by force..... but i..... I shouldn't have thought that," Alistar stated, tears brimming his eyes again. "Alistar.. I wasn't in love with you. You were my friend.... how could you have possibly thought that doing what you did would change that?" Ella asked, crossing her arms. "I don't know," his voice cracked. "I don't know what I was thinking.... I just made choices and i...... God I regret every single one," Alistar muttered. "I'm not gonna ask for your forgiveness.. cause I realize its too late.... but please.... don't let my mistakes create a leeway for my father to come in and Destroy the life You've built," Alistar stated. Ella stood there for a few moments before walking closer to him and hugging him. "I can't forgive what youve done.... not yet at least..... but.... I believe in the fact that you're telling the truth," Ella sighed. Alistar let out a breath. "Thank you...... I'm so so sorry.... I-I didnt..... I shouldn't've..... I'm sorry," he all but whispered as he tried not to cry.

........ The group as a whole stood in the dining area, a giant map on the table. "So if we can destroy his forces from the inside, we can possibly win... but how are we gonna get in?" Loreley asked. "Theres a passageway through the dungeons. I found it when I was 10 when he locked me in my cell after breaking a vase. I made it myself from a small hole in the wall," Alistar replied, pointing the area out to the group. Mia glanced at him. "How many times did he put you down there for you to make an entire crawlspace?" She asked. Alistar raised an eyebrow as he calculated. "Uh.... maybe 5 times a week. 2 if I stayed out of trouble," He answered. The group looked at him. ".. what?" He asked. "Okay, so we'll go through there. Do you have armor?" Ella asked, turning to alistar. "No. Just this," he stated as he gestured to his shirt and pants. "Hm okay. Elias will fir you for some armor later," Ella stated. "What so he can stab me with it?" Eli asked. "Elias," Ella scolded. Eli sighed. "Fine. We'll do it now so I can get it over with. Cmon," Alistar gulped as he followed Eli outside.

"Lose the shirt," Eli stated as he picked up some already made armor. "P-pardon?" Alistar asked. "The armor won't fit right if your measurements aren't correct and your shirt is too baggy," Elias stated, an unamused look on his face. "O-okay but can't we just-" "Oh my god do you want me to help or not?" Eli asked, clearly frustrated. Alistar sighed. Eli rolled his eyes, turning to grab a measuring stick. His eyes widened at the sight of all the scared on Alistar's back and chest, blending into smaller ones on his arms. "Woah.... what... happened?" Eli asked, almost forgetting what alistar did. Almost. Alistar sighed as he hung his shirt over a chair in the hut. "After my mom died, my dad thought waking me up by having people whip me was a wonderful idea... and when he and I dueled, he would stab me," Alistar replied. Elias' eyebrows furrowed. "You're really messed up, aren't you?" Eli asked. Alistar chuckled. "Yeah... I am...." Eli gave a small genuine smile before walking to work on Alistar's armor.

[rachetmath]

Jaune desevers Choice

Jaune does not need the relic of destruction. First of all, let’s talk about the sword itself. The sword might as well be the last thing our heroes should ever take out of its vault or let Salem have. Considering it might as well be equivalent to a Death Note and a God of destruction. Summon the spirit, give it a name or a specified target and it will destroy what you desire. I’m saying anyone can use this sword and become all-powerful.

Now here’s what your thinking, “Our heroes need the relic to beat Salem.” right? But let’s look at the details here. Ozpin was reincarnated multiple times. He found each of the relics and used them to where he knows the rules and the spirits who reside in them. So wouldn’t he already have tried and failed to kill Salem with it? Because she’s immortal. What other purpose would the sword serve? Nothing. So why does Jaune need it?

Now, why Jaune doesn’t need the sword of destruction? That’s simple. Jaune already has enough power due to his semblance and aura alone. He just needs time and training to learn how to use them. However, that's only the secondary reason. The primary reason is Jaune is more deserving of the relic of choice. After all, his choices seem to be beneficial to everyone instead of sabotaging them.

Jaune in volume one, started simply as a boy going in way over his head. He got bullied but instead of quitting, he decides to ride it out. However, when his team was in trouble he stood up to his bully and resolve his situation. This was the first set of choices that resulted in his team not being set up for failure. If Jaune allowed Cardin to get away with his miss doings, Jaune’s team would have lost respect for him and worse Cardin could’ve gotten them into trouble.

In volume two he could have taken advantage of Weiss’s rejection from Neptune and used it to finally dance with her. But he didn’t. Instead, he chose to help Weiss by talking with Neptune and his choice helped everybody have a great time. Not only that it helped Jaune to be open-minded and think about others and their feelings. Volume four and five I will not discuss because Jaune’s decision-making was more based on emotions.

However, in volume six, despite there being other options, Jaune choosing to steal an Atlas airship was still a good suggestion. I mean, that plan by RWBY standards actually could have worked, flawlessly if Adam didn’t show up out of anywhere. Regardless of the outcome, his choice helped everyone get to Atlas in good condition.

Finally, in volume eight, though I do wish Jaune had a hand in a lot more, I will still give him some credit. Jaune telling everyone to split up, for now, was a good idea considering everyone was arguing back and forth with one another. Then Jaune took advantage of the war to look for Oscar and that helped them escape and gain a new crew member. (Still don’t trust her though.) And even though I still can’t stand the fact, that he killed Penny, Jaune still saved more lives than Team RWBY. By giving the maiden powers to Winter, Jaune not only prevented Cinder from taking both the powers and the relic, but he also gave the evacuated citizens a better chance at survival.

Every time Jaune calls the shots somehow it is more beneficial for others around him than with Ruby. Yes, Ruby is the main character and the primary leader of the group but her decisions always seem to lead to disaster than prosperity. Not only that Jaune, whether you know it or not, proved Jame’s and Clover's words to be true. The right choices are the hardest to make and sometimes you have to make the tough decisions. And what better way to see those choices unfold than with the relic of choice itself?

If what we know is to be true, the crown can see into the future. Allowing someone to see the possibilities or outcomes of his or her choices. However if not used properly or abused could cause the user to go insane and be numb enough not to make any choice at all. But for Jaune that is a risk worth taking.

Jaune always kept his eyes forward. Even after Pyrrha’s death, Jaune was still willing to follow the path he chose and become a huntsman. 'But after failing to save Penny Jaune could become more determined to stop Salem. So if he were to use the crown he will not care for the outcome as long as his friends are happy. Even if he might not be there to see it.

#rwby #Jaune Arc #adam taurus #ruby rose #penny polendina #winter schnee

[itsalwayswellattheworldsend]

Book 2 Chapter 26 - They Ride the Mountains Toward Goldburg 

Text Audio

Synopsis:

The Fellowship makes its way through the mountains, and finds a familiar corpse.

Summary:

"He is seeking the woman, and I would that he could find her; for then would I slay her on the howe of my kinsman: for she hath slain him; she hath slain him."

They stayed at Whiteness for five days, and before they left, Clement hired armed men from the lord of the town, and servants to help with the pack animals as they crossed the mountains, so by the time they reached the mountains, there were ninety people in their group.

Ralph asked Bull if any of those they might encounter in the mountain were of his clan, and he said no, not unless one or two of them happened to be going on some peaceful errand, like Bull Nosy. So Ralph gave him a good sword and shield, and a steel coif as well, but he wouldn’t wear it. He said that if a sword and shield could not keep him alive, then he deserved to have his head split open.

They rode through the mountains for seven days[1], and the way was tiresome and difficult, being a stony maze of rocks where no living thing dwelt and nothing grew except for the occasional stunted willow tree. Though difficult, they encountered nothing worse on the road than the terrain, because they were now too many and well-armed for any of the wildmen to attack, since the clans there were weak.

Around evening on the seventh day, Ralph had ridden a little ahead of the others with Bull, in hopes of seeing the end of this terrible wilderness, which Clement said should be close since they were now going down-hill and the streams ran eastward. So as they rode and the sun was setting, they saw something lying beside a large stone beneath a cliff, and when they grew closer they saw that it was a man, whom they thought was dead. So Bull went up to him and leapt off of his horse to bend over him, but immediately he threw up his arms and let out several long, wailing cries, one after another. He was so loud that the others heard him and rode up quickly to see what was the matter.

Ralph dismounted and ran to Bull, saying: “What’s wrong, why are you crying? Who is it?”

But Bull turned around and shook his head and said: “It is one of my clan, the one who was leading your she-friend; and likely it was her that slew him, since she is not here. Ochone! ahoo! ahoo!”[2]

Then a fire ran through Ralph’s heart, and he thought of that other murder in the wilderness, and he began ringing his hands. “Ah, and where is she? Where is she? Is she also gone forever? What an awful turn of events!” Then he drew his sword and ran around the rocks and bushes to look for her body.”

Then Clement and the others came up, and they wondered what Bull was doing kneeling down by a corpse, and why he was crying and wailing while Ralph ran around like a madman yelling “I might find her! She could still be alive somewhere in this miserable wilderness. Oh my lost love,[3] don’t you want me to find her alive? If she’s dead, I’ll kill myself, despite my youth! I may find you two beyond the world, if both of you have gone from it.”

Then Clement went up to Ralph and asked him what was going on, but Ralph stared at him wildly and did not answer. Bull cried out from where he was kneeling: “He is looking for the woman, and I wish that he would find her so I could slay her on the grave of my kinsman: she has killed him! She killed him!”

Ralph heard that and ran at Bull with his sword held up as though to kill him, but Clement tripped him and he fell, the sword flying out of his hand.[4] Then Clement and two of the others tied his hands with their belts until they could figure out what happened, because they thought that he might be possessed and a danger to himself or others.

Now the whole Fellowship was gathered together and they stood in a ring around Ralph and Bull and the dead man. The body had been dead for some time—likely many days—but in that high, clear, cold air, the wind had caused it to dry out rather than rot, and his face was clear to see with its big, hooked nose and long black hair. His head was split open.

Bull finished crying over his kinsman, and he seemed to be waking up from a dream, and he looked at the men around him and said: “Here is something big, my masters! What will you do with me? Do you think it is our custom that when a man finds the corpse of his brother—his own mother’s son!—and turns it over with his foot like the carcass of a dog, that he should leave it like that and be on his way? I ask that, although I am only a thrall taken in battle, I be allowed to bury my brother and make a mound over him in these mountains.”[5]

They all agreed to this except Ralph, who had been calmed by his fall, and was now standing between Clement and the captain with his hands unbound, since the others had joined them. He hung his head and seemed to be ashamed of his anger. But when Bull had spoken and the others answered, Ralph said angrily to Bull (though more controlled now): “Why did you say that you would kill her?”

“Did you find her?” asked Bull.

“No,” Ralph said sullenly.

“Well then, when you do find her, we will discuss it.”

“Why did you say that she had killed him?”

“I was out of my mind at the sight of his body,” said Bull. “But now I say that she may have killed him.”

“And maybe she didn’t,” said Clement. “Look at the wound in his head—the blow went right through his iron headpiece, which he bought at Cheaping Knowe (I’ve seen these kinds at armorers’ booths there): it would have taken a strong man to do this.”

“Yes,” said the Captain, “and a big sword as well. This was done by a strong man wielding a good weapon.”

Bull said: “Well, will my master have me forgo vengeance for my brother’s slaying, or stop me pursuing the killer?[6] If not, then let him kill me now, since I am his thrall.”

Ralph said: “You can do what you want in these matters, and I will also do what I want. If she killed him, then that is justice for his kidnapping her.”

“It’s only fair,” said the captain; “but Sir Ralph, I ask you to take the word of this older fighter: she didn’t kill him, not her or any other woman.”

Clement said: “Well, let’s just leave the matter here for now. But tell me, lord Ralph, what will you do, now that you’ve come back to your senses?”

“I want to  search the wilderness around here, in case the young woman is in some cave or crevice, alive or dead.”

“Well,” said Clement, “here’s my idea: since Bull Shockhead wants to bury his brother, and Lord Ralph wants to look for the young woman, and since there’s water nearby and the sun is setting, let’s set up camp here and wait until morning. We’ll let the night advise us. What do you say?”

No one disagreed, and so they started making camp and lighting fires, but Bull immediately started digging a grave for his brother while Ralph and the captain and four others went and searched the area and in the crevices. They did not find the maiden, nor any sign of her. They spent a long time looking, and when they came back it was night and the moon was shining, Bull Shockhead was standing by the mound of Bull Nosy’s grave, which was heaped high over the place where they found his body.

When Bull saw Ralph, he turned to him and said: “King’s son, I have done what I needed to do. Now, will you kill me for my actions, or shall I be your man again and serve you truly—unless a blood feud comes betweens us?”

Ralph said: “You will serve me truly and help me find whomever killed your brother and took the young woman; for I believe that is what happened, since we have seen no sign of her, alive or dead. But tomorrow we’ll look a little further before we ride on.”

“Yes,” said Bull, “and I will help look.”

So then they went to their beds, and Ralph lay awake for a long time, which was unusual for him. He thought about things until at last he said to himself that this woman whom he called Dorothea must certainly be alive, and that he would find her. Then it seemed to him that he could see her through the darkness of the night, dressed in the green flowered gown as he had first seen her, and she was mourning her captivity and the long wait for deliverance, pacing back and forth in a great chamber made of marble, decorated with gold and bright colors. And before he fell asleep, he thought this was a vision of what was, rather than some memory of what had been, and the sight of her alive was sweet to his soul.

Notes:

[1] So, there’s a bit of a problem all of the sudden. We don’t know how far Whiteness is from the Central Range. The travel time is not listed, causing our first real gap in time. I would assume that they left Whiteness and were immediately in the mountains, except that in the previous chapter, it was stated that there was still some distance past Whiteness before reaching the mountains. I’ve marked this on the map as an unknown distance, and will be continuing accounting for time as though there was no gap.

[2] I assume this is how hillfolk grieve.

[3] He’s referring to the Lady here.

[4] “That word heard Ralph, and he ran at Bull with uplifted sword to slay him; but Clement tripped him and he fell, and his sword flew out of his hand.” That’s what happens and I find it very funny.

[5] What he originally says is like “Have you heard this is what we do, or is it your own custom that…” He’s like “Hey, you need to let me do this thing; properly caring for the dead is a basic human right.”

[6] “...will my master bid me forego vengeance for my brother's slaying, or that I bear him to purse?” I don’t know the exact meaning of the second clause. “that I bear him to purse” isn’t a phrase I’m familiar with, and I’m not able to find another meaning of “purse” that would make sense. I chose to translate “bear” in the sense of “allow” and “purse” as a relative of “pursue,” since that seems contextually valid, but I’m not sure. Googling “Bear him to purse” ONLY brought up this line from this book.

Map:

#the well at the world's end #william morris #the well - book 2 chapter 26

[theink-stainedfolk]

Sun Goddess

My room was filled only with darkness that hadn't been there before. All my life.... I've seen nothing but brightness. My white gown, which once shined as I walked down the golden halls of my beautiful Palace, was pale and dirty. My eye bags get darker every day. Nothing surrounds this Palace other than looming crisis, silence and whispers of all sorts. I wasn't like this. This wasn't like this. I wonder every day, after all, what went wrong?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice a woman my age, wearing a body-hugging gown as dark as the night, embedded with sequences shining bright as the stars. Her silver moon crown glowed brightly like the moon in a dark room. The gown swept the floor as she walked towards me with an infuriating grin on her white cream-like face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as if she didn't know that I reside here. "I didn't expect to see my favorite sister here." her smirk..... Was provoking me.

"Jaci...." I rasped out with a scowl on my face. "Has heaven fallen? Why are you here? What could you possibly want from a fallen goddess?"

"Aw don't be like that to your sister. Can't I even come to see you? Who says you're dead dear Mirri. People have just.-" she came closer to me and whispered in my ear "-forgotten you... Because of me"

I resisted my urge to burn her alive and stood with my back facing her, as I could not tolerate her smirk.

"State your reason and leave me" just like before... 

"I just came to see your usual pathetic state."

"Now that you've seen it, are you pleased? If yes, then you can leave."

I heard her chuckling. "I am pleased, but not satisfied"  She stood in front of me " I've heard that you have been trying to bring back worshippers." My eyes widened. How did she come to know that?

"Based on your looks, I guess that it's true." she was mocking me with her smirk, but suddenly, her look changed. Her smile vanished and the mocking look in her eyes got replaced with a terrorizing look, which made me involuntary shudder.

"Sister dear, let me remind you. This state of yours , is caused by you yourself. I just helped to make you fall a bit faster." just..... What was she trying to say?

"If only you had cherished the sacrifices which were made for you, and fulfilled the wishes of your people. None of this would have happened. But then again, I'm glad it did. Or else, how was I going to win against you? Sun Goddess?" she gave me a scornful smile. 

" People don't deserve to die!" I shouted at her impassive face. "No human should kill another human just for his safety or anyone else's! I wasn't going to fulfill the wishes dripping with greed and lust for a better life when they just killed someone! And I never treated you as my rival -" 

"You are at it again with your motivational speech" she rolled her eyes at me. The people sacrificed for you more than me, how can I not feel disheartened Mirri?" she placed her hand on her chest as if it ached. Heart aches only if you have it. A stone does not ache. "But you just set them free. As if people's pleas never mattered to you. But they did to Mirri. I fulfilled each and single one of theirs. And as for the sacrifices... I took the handsome ones by my side. They fulfill my needs." 

The disgust was evident in my eyes and I didn't even try to hide it. 

" If only you could be a little more like me.... Now I am everyone's favorite goddess. The Moon Goddess. And you.... You are forever gone from everywhere. From people's eyes, mind and most importantly.... Their heart"  her words were like a sword, embedded with thorns pushed down my heart. 

"There's no sunlight in the town anymore, Mirri.... Only moonlight! The beautiful night filled with twinkling stars and a beautiful moon and its goddess! And no sun! Everyone hated the sun anyway....it used to hurt their eyes. And now it's no more!" her laugh echoed in the Palace. My legs gave out and I fell.... The sound of her laugh was hazy in my ears. Tears that I was holding down flowed freely. The crown on my head, which once shone as bright as the sun now nothing more than a piece of crap, fell on the floor alongside me. Jaci crouched down with the same smirk on. 

"ah.... I love to see your pathetic state Mirri.... It makes me realize that I've won against you. It makes me feel proud. You can't deny the facts and your destiny. This is your place.... This... Is your destiny" 

She left me on the floor after kicking my crown just like that.... Even if I kept repeating "no".... It doesn't change anything.... Even me. If the time is turned back. I will never accept the sacrifices. Not now, not in the future. The All Mighty God.... Must hear my prayer... 

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing #my writing #writers #writerscommunity #writers and poets #writblr #writers of tumblr

[eeveearoace-creative]

i. set out to write something, and it honestly wasn't this, but this is what came out anyway. so.

enjoy :3

cw: blood, death, nightmares, guilt, possession, did i mention blood?

OH! also - this was fueled by something @arcadiii just wrote, so. everybody go read all their stuff lol

you’ve had this dream before. 

the sword is yanked backwards and she falls, limp as a ragdoll as she crumples to the cold, tile floor. this never hurts any less. 

you hear screaming. you’re sure who it came from – you, your friend (if she even is your friend anymore), or someone else entirely – but it doesn’t matter, not when one of the loves of your life is lying motionless, alone, as blood gushes from the new, open wound in her chest, pooling around her tiny body. 

you aren’t sure when you started running, but you certainly are now, moving as quickly as you can towards the lifeless body of the girl you loved oh so much, who will never know how much she meant to you, who you should protected, who died because you weren’t strong enough. all you want is to hold her, to tell her that she’s loved, that you love her – that she’s going to be okay, she’s okay, you’ll make her okay, you promise. 

but you never reach her. the faster you run, the farther apart you drift from one another, the smell of burning flesh and blood filling your nostrils. she doesn’t so much as flinch as you call, scream her name, desperate to hold her in your arms and keep her safe from dangers she couldn’t detect, because she’s always been so trusting, so naïve, so gentle, so kind... all the things you love about her. that’s why you had to keep her safe. 

but you failed. and now she’s dying, alone, and there’s nothing you can do. if given the chance, you would’ve give your life to protect her, to protect them. but you never got that chance. instead, she did, and she saved you, both of you, but she paid a price she never should’ve had to pay. she didn’t deserve this. 

she always was so much braver than you ever gave her credit for. 

you wish you had told her everything when you had the chance. you wish you hadn’t gone along with this stupid rebellion – no, you wish you hadn’t caused this stupid rebellion. maybe if you hadn’t, you would’ve realized he was bad news sooner. maybe if you hadn’t, you would’ve been able to convince her that something was wrong. maybe if you hadn’t, she would still be alive. 

but you’re stuck with the horrible choices you’ve made, and there’s nothing you can do to fix them. 

this time, the dream continues longer than normal. this time, you actually reach the broken body of the girl who didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to die, and your fingers brush her cold, paling skin. 

this time, she reacts to you, and she turns around. 

“sasha,” she whispers, blood spilling past her lips as her body tremors, twitching as her body gives its last, final, desperate spasms, “i’m sorry... i’m so, so sorry...” she coughs up blood. “please, help me...” 

she collapses into your arms, wheezing and coughing up blood. you try to speak, because doesn’t she understand that this is your fault, not hers? doesn’t she understand that she’s dying because of you? doesn’t she understand that no matter what she did, she would never deserve this? 

you try to comfort her, to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, that she’s going to be okay, but you can’t force your mouth to move. you want to, need to tell her you love her, because you can’t lose her, not again, not like this. 

she goes still. so does the world. 

you wail. you aren’t allowed to be vulnerable like this, but what does it matter? one of you is stuck on another planet, and the other is dead – there’s no-one left to protect, and you’ll never be three again. 

your hands sticky with blood, you rock your love’s corpse back and forth, like you believe that’ll somehow bring her back, but it won’t, and you know it. she’s gone. 

abrupt laughter breaks you out of your thoughts. your heart leaps, and even though the laughter sounds wrong, it’s coming from beside you, coming from her. the laughter sounds wrong, but you barely pay that any mind, because if she’s laughing, that means she’s- 

orange eyes split out of her skin, too many and glowing and all staring at you, and if her laughter sounded a bit odd before, this was full-on insanity. a too-wide smile tugs at her lips, and it breaks you, because something tells you that isn’t really the girl you love. 

“see you soon, sashy,” it purrs, and this is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong- 

you wake up in a cold sweat. 

there’s blood on your hands. 

#writing #my writing #fic #my fic #amphibia fic #blood #death #possession #nightmares #guilt #for cadi </3

[haysgrove]

ooh i do!!! what's up with your blorbos? /gen

ok just for clarification im talking abt Licorice, Red Velvet nd Dark Choco

i just start thinking abt them and i get sad cause their involvement with Dark Enchantress is actually kind of really fucking tragic i think

but the thing abt them is that they dont seem troubled with their decisions. Well except for Dark Choco, actually lets start with him

i feel so fucking bad for Dark Choco cause the poor man stumbled upon a cursed sword that made him do really fucked up shit and he was SO ashamed of himself that he joined Dark Enchantress NOT bc it was something that he wanted to do, but he thought it was something he DESERVED because he was so ashamed of his actions. Like. This poor man felt so guilty about something that wasnt even his fault, that he started to think "i deserve a path of darkness. nothing more." and he was SO miserable working with Dark Enchantress especially bc Pomegranate made him fucking. relive his trauma as a way of punishment. but he stuck around BECAUSE HE FULLY BELIEVED HE DESERVED TO BE MISERABLE

obviously couldnt help but get spoiled w the fact that Dark Choco finally left the CoD and honestly i couldnt be happier for him. My beloved. My blorbo. I care him so much.

Now im super fucking intrigued with Red Velvet cause hes like. content with being on Dark Enchantress' side. But the more i think about it im like... okay but he didnt have an option in the first place. He just so happen to be born at the exact place and time that Dark Enchantress was there, and she took him in. Red Velvet was a terrified child of course he was gonna leave with her. And its safe to assume she raised him obviously. So the fact that Dark Enchantress was fucking filled with rage upon discovering the truth about her species and her newfound goal of destroying the witches, of course she was gonna put this view of life onto Red Velvet's little mind. Of course he thinks Dark Enchantress has a grand vision, because he grew up with it and has never heard about any other vision besides hers!!!!

He sees the flaws in other cookies and it immediately feeds onto Dark Enchantress's views, especially because he has cake traits. The other cookies call them "cake monsters", hes part cake, why would he be on the side of the cookies who call him a monster??? Whereas Dark Enchantress was not bothered by his cake arm when they first met. She gave him sympathy. So he stuck around her side and is most likely content by doing so because he hasnt had the chance to create his own view of the world. Perhaps because he knows that, even if he tries, he feels like Dark Enchantress will be right in certain ways. Maybe not all of them. But it will most likely be enough for him

And Licorice. Oh Licorice. I get so sad when i think about him. Im pretty sure on ep 13-14 we know the tiniest bit more about him but since i just started w ep 13 i dont have all the details but nevermind that

Licorice joined Dark Enchantress because he was impressed by her power, but given the little bit of background he has on his info, that he failed to get the recognition he rightfully deserved, it makes me believe that this was also a part on why he joined her. We havent been told on how exactly him and Dark Enchantress met, its not even mentioned in the story. The only bit we have is the "On his dark path, he met Dark Enchantress Cookie. The might of the sorceress astonished Licorice Cookie, and it didn't take long before he swore his allegiance" on Licorice's description

What WAS Licorice's dark path? What did he do that lead to meeting Dark Enchantress?

Also, at one point during ep 13 i think? When talking about the Licorice Sea, Licorice says "I spent years trying to get as far away from this foul sea, but where have i ended up? Back here" and also THIS text that appears when you click the Licorice Village and Licorice is on your team

and im so curious about it cause WHY does Licorice have such dislike to his hometown? and why did they use this specific sprite when making him say this. If Licorice really had hatred toward the place he was assumedly raised in, they would probably used his annoyed or angry sprite, not his sad one. Right?

So i believe Licorice wasnt recognized at all, not even on his childhood, which is what made him leave and meet Dark Enchantress. And it makes me even more sad because Licorice isnt recognized in the CoD either. Not in the slightest. Pomegranate is DE's right hand woman, Red Velvet is technically her son, so i think she has at least SOME sort of endearment to him. And i guess, she probably DID have, at least just the tiniest little bit of joy and pride about having Dark Choco on her team. Because he is her rival's son. So even if it was like. selfish?? i think?? i believe there still was some sort of pride. Some sort of amusement. And Poison Mushroom is a literal child so ofc everyone is gonna treat them softly

He assumedly saw other kids getting recognized, but not him. And now he sees his co-workers getting recognized, but not him. Which is why hes so pathetically starved for affection, for reassurance. Because he KNOWS its something that exists, but its something that HE has never experienced, and he wants it, he craves it so fucking badly

i still have so much in my mind but i just

#ask

[moontheoretist]

The illusion of morality

You know, the first time I played DA2 (and even the second and third) I didn’t really like what Anders had done. I did understand why, but I didn’t approve, because I told myself “there are better ways to go about it than this”. But then several years passed, and I learned more things about the world around me and its history. When I placed Anders actions into the context of real life freedom movements, it suddenly made sense. Stonewall was a riot. Suffragettes were bombing places, and from the most recent ones: black people in America abandoned peaceful protests for the sake of the violent ones. We as minority groups try so hard to get our rights, to force our oppressors to see us as people peacefully. We spread awareness, we educate, we peacefully protest, and if you live in a country that is willing to listen that is enough, but when you live in a place like mine, where your oppressors cannot care less, you start feeling frustrated, because how long can you be rebuffed at every turn before you are forced to do something drastic? We like to tell ourselves that freedom movements should be above this. That they should be morally clean and peaceful, so we would not prove to our oppressors that “we do not deserve what we ask for” by acting violently. But in truth it is a double-edged sword, because our oppressors see it as a weakness they can use to stall our efforts until there is no longer anybody willing to do the work. They are counting on that we will get complacent, or tired and will stop pushing, and a lot of people would. Soon there would be only a few willing to continue, and our power as a movement would diminish. Only when we get violent people start to listen, or more like start to notice that there was a movement in the first place, and see what the oppressors are willing to do in order to stop us. How they are willing to kill us on the streets in order to scare us into compliance. The same happens to the Circle in Kirkwall. Anders is an unaffiliated apostate, but Meredith still decides to punish those who are innocent, those who were not responsible for what happened, by calling the Right of Annulment on the whole place. When you compare her actions to Anders, who blew up the Chantry with only guilty people inside, it is glaringly clear who is in the right and who is in the wrong. Don’t fool yourself that Grand Cleric Elthina was a nice old lady whose hands were tied. She was the most powerful person in the city, she gave Meredith power and then proceeded to ignore everything Meredith has done. Sisters from the Chantry never helped the poor, they just walked around the city collecting money from them to keep their church as huge and as golden as it possibly could be, while the people who donated starved to death. Templars who were with Elthina inside the Chantry were hardly innocent, considering how prone to abuses they were in Kirkwall specifically. But mages in the Circle? Whose only guilt was to turn to blood magic or into abomination out of feeling helplessly at a disadvantage? It is not something they can control in a system that takes away all their choices from them. It is like telling a starving man to not eat bread placed before him. They were innocent people and Right of Annulment caused such fear and discord that most of those innocent people turned into monsters, which would not happen if they were not put under such duress. They are not responsible for what happened to them, Meredith is, and Meredith would then use the fact that she victimized them as a proof that she is right in killing them all. She already tried to call for Annulment several times. It was due to her deteriorating mental state thanks to exposure to Red Lyrium, but do not kid yourself that Meredith was only abusive to mages after Red Lyrium entered the picture - she was like this long before it appeared. She allowed for Harrowed mages to be made Tranquil, that was considered illegal by the Circle standards, and she also empowered her Templars to abuse and terrorize mages since she was appointed. Anders' actions were just a convenient excuse for her to further target one of the most vulnerable groups in Kirkwall. Not to mention that without Anders actions, it is possible that mages would not see any change in how they are treated for several more years, maybe even a decade or two or another hundreds of years before someone snapped again. I believe that Anders actions were needed for the rights of mages to be finally taken into account, even if some of the mages do not approve and disagree with what he did. His actions forced them all into action, his actions resulted in a lot of deaths of said mages, but there can hardly be a revolution without this in a system that believes mages lives are expendable. If it was a different system maybe revolution would not be needed, maybe peaceful actions would be enough, but it is not a different system, it is a religious regime that forces regular people to fear mages, and keeps mages unwilling to fight by blaming said fear on them.

#pro mages #pro anders #anti chantry #dragon age 2 #yes i know suffragetes are not the best example #as some of them were nazi sympathisers #still I cannot not mention that a lot of freedom movements #only managed to further their agenda when the fight broke loose

[late-to-the-fandom]

Chapter 2: The Waking Isles

In which Elisewin makes a case for completing quests in geographic rather than campaign order. Rated G. Read on Ao3 here.

Renathal remained admirably equable the entire morning Elisewin spent assisting the baby dragon with the repair of her stuffed toy. He followed them about the cliff top, dutifully accepting the bits of fluff and scraps of cloth they thrust upon him with the sort of magnanimity only an eternal Prince could achieve.

He maintained this diplomatic composure through the afternoon, in which Elisewin did nothing but sit at an old dwarf-visaged dragon's side, listening quietly to his reminiscing and occasionally prompting him to speak. He frowned a little but held his tongue when she delayed their journey to the Obsidian Throne another day to help a merchant collect materials necessary in creating some sentimental token for his husband.

But when she insisted they halt again to help a dragonkin nonentity with an equally meaningless task - something to do with frogs - Renathal felt the time had finally come to put his foot down.

"Granted, I know little of this young Prince.”

Renathal’s mouth twisted slightly at the title, and the texture of the Hornswog’s long, sticky tongue as he snatched it from the air bare-handed before it could reach Elisewin's arm. He gave the warty creature a firm kick and it hopped away with a sullen croak.

"But,” he continued, inspecting the angry red welts now rising on his palm, “I have the distinct impression he is the sort to rush headlong into a dangerous situation unprepared and without backup should none appear on his timeline.”

“Probably,” agreed Elisewin absently, kneeling in an attempt to pick up the Hornswog’s intended victim: a tiny green frog. It hopped about madly, evading her hand. “That would be the standard response of most princes I know.”

She tossed Renathal a wry smile, then slung her travel bag off her back and undid the clasps. Renathal scowled.

“A different situation entirely,” he declared, rubbing his injured hand surreptitiously against his armor to soothe the unpleasantly growing sting.  “But certainly all the more reason why our time would be most prudently spent providing him aid without any further undue delay.”

Elisewin’s face was buried in the deceptively small bag’s vasty depths, but there was amusement in her voice as she answered, “I had no idea his cause mattered so much to you. Weren't you the one who said this whole affair was … what was it?” She withdrew from the bag, holding a glass jar, and screwed up her face in mock thought. “The petty, pointless infighting of an only marginally relevant race?"

A rustle of foliage made Renathal ready his decidedly-silent sword as he watched another of the rotund red creatures eye his former Maw Walker greedily. Crouched on the ground, he supposed she looked like some sparkling lavender frog herself.

"Yes, and I maintain that position," he declared unrepentantly, then paused to execute a quick lunge, a swift jab from the butt of his sword, and an over-loud snarl, encouraging the cowardly Hornswog to seek easier prey. "However, even that, for all its debatable importance in the grand scheme of reality, is still more deserving of our skills than this ..." He waved his injured hand at the frog, still circling them manically. “Whatever this is."

"This is important to Keshki,” said Elisewin, who had not moved throughout the entire exchange except to finish unscrewing the jar. “Just like reclaiming the Obsidian Throne is important to Wrathion. Just like Theotar’s tea parties were important to him and taking back Revendreth was important to you. And yes -"

She forestalled the argument waiting on Renathal’s tongue with a raised hand, the one holding the lid. The other set the jar on the ground in front of her and allowed its bright occupants to swarm the surrounding air.

“You are absolutely right. In the grand scheme of the universe and as far as concerns the immortal planes, nothing here is really of any importance whatsoever. Which means these Hornswogs are as much a deadly enemy in need of culling as the Djaradin and the primalists."

Entranced by the cloud of fireflies, the frog ceased its panicked circles, gave a more sedate croak, and hopped drunkenly into Elisewin's lap. It relaxed visibly until its body was almost flat, tiny eyes transfixed by her flickering firefly halo. Renathal had sympathy for the creature's instinct; Elisewin's small, fond smile had a similar effect on his own tensions. She cupped it gently in her hands and tucked it securely into an outside pocket of her bag, then wiped her hands on her robes and refastened the jar.

"What's important here," she posited, "is not that either group represents a truly significant evil, but that their culling provides significant assistance to the person we're trying to help." She replaced the jar in her bag and raised a long, dark eyebrow at Renathal. "Do you consider Keshki any less deserving of assistance than Wrathion?"

"Not at all,” he said earnestly, switching his sword from one hand to the other so as to offer Elisewin the unmarred one. "However-"

"Well then!” she interrupted brightly, allowing Renathal to pull her to her feet. “Since we're already here and she needs our help, why not help her and then continue on? I am confident Wrathion’s own contingent will manage to keep him alive and relatively out of danger for a few more days at least."

Elisewin shook back her hair, brushed down her robes, then knocked Renathal's sword from his injured hand and yanked it to her.

"Oh, leave it," he said dismissively. "It is worth neither the anima expenditure from our limited reserve nor the time it will take to locate it in that bag. We have a long list of people to assist, and, apparently, no method for establishing whose need is most pressing."

His sardonic rebuke might have been addressed to the eavesdropping Hornswogs for all the attention Elisewin paid. She had already retrieved a roll of colourless cloth from a hidden pocket and was winding it expertly around his hand.

"Everyone always needs help," she mused as she worked. "And everyone believes their need is most pressing. Sitting down and trying to sort them into some kind of objective order wastes a great deal more time, I assure you. Not to mention giving certain requests priority over others tends to create bad feeling among allies."

"You were always quite willing to prioritize my own requests?" 

"That's because you are my only priority."

She fastened the bandage with a quick, practiced motion. Between the soft silk and the sentiment that still thrilled the Dark Prince to his core, the burning in his palm all but ceased.

"But, with that one very notable exception." Elisewin placed an honorific kiss to the back of Renathal's bandaged hand before returning it to him. "I consider all other quests and calls for aid to be of the exact same importance. Keshki's frogs as much as Wrathion's throne."

"Theotar's tea parties as much as Revendreth politics?"

"Just so." She met Renathal's wry smile tooth for fang. "There is more to being a hero than heroics, Renathal."

The rustle of foliage provided a familiar warning, and Renathal wrapped his arm around Elisewin's waist before the subsequent spring. He stepped back, pulling her with him and out of the path of the Hornswog's leap. She flicked a careless hand and a burst of purple sparks over her shoulder, knocking the creature off-balance without tearing her affectionate gaze from Renathal, who stooped, fumbled in the grass for his weapon, then straightened, stealing a quick kiss on the way. He adjusted his grip on his sword and his soulbind, and rallied his regal humour once more.

"Then, by all means, let us be heroes," he declared, and darted forward to face his new foe.

#and there was only one dragon! #renathal x maw walker #renathal fan fiction #prince renathal #fanfiction #wow fanfiction #world of warcraft #shadowlands #dragon isles #dragonflight #domestic fluff #elisewin #the maw walker #nightborne #orgrimmar #keshki #hornswogs

[fangirlfreak08]

Episode 8 thoughts

Omg I’m almost done

Honestly loving all these intros, although my favourites still the crow one

Ohhh wait no nikolais gonna get attacked in the chapel isn’t he

KAZ GAVE NIKOLAI HIS CANE THEY ARE IN FACT BEST FRIENDS

WYLANS HOLDING JESPERS HAT

my man! I mean we haven’t actually put a label on that have we? GOD I LOVE THEM JESPERS SUCH A DISASTER BI I CANT

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID I LOVE YOU

Ding dong mals dead

SLAY ALINA

Darkling shut up. No one cares and I mean that literally

SLAY SHE DID IT GUYS

NIKOLAI NOOO

INEJ GHAFA DOING A SPIN MIDAIR WAS SOMETHING I DID NOT KNOW I NEEDED

Lol look at him talking about how he’s gonna live while he’s dying

Slay Alina you will in fact save yourself

Inej save her life rn

OMG SHE THREW THE SWORD SLAY INEJ I LOVE HER SO MUCH

Are they seriously tryna push the darklina agenda rn?

OMG NO SLAY SHE JUST FUCKING STABBED HIM

AS SHE SHOULD

Why’s his blood black?

NIKOLAI MY BELOVED ITS GONNA BE OKAY NOT FOR A LONG TIME BUT EVENTUALLY IT WILL BE

Kick him zoya he deserves it

IS BURNING THE DARKLINGS BODY THE BONFIRE THE CAST WAS TALKING ABOUT?? DO THEY LITERALLY HAVE A BONFIRE AROUND HIS BODY?

Also there’s still 49 minutes left I’m not entirely sure I want to watch them

Who’s body?

KAZ KNOWS POETRY?!

God Nikolais best mates dead and he’s so heartbroken

Kaz go to Inej challenge

Does Alina not lose her powers?

Not Kaz watching Inej

Nikolai and zoya in the same sentence….that it. Is that all we’re getting?!

THEYRE JUST STARING AT EACH OTHER

JESPER I LOVE YOU BUT FUCK OFF

YES KAZ GET THAT MONEY

Tamar and Nadia holding hands!

JESPER BROKE THE FOURTH WALL

OH SHIT WHAT?? DOES MAL NOT LOVE ALINA ANYMORE?!

Nina and Kaz being besties

Nina talking about clawing her way to a happily ever after and KAZ LOOKING AT INEJ

NO MATTHIAS DO NOT TEAM UP WITH PEKKA

NO NO DAVID BETTER NOT BE DEAD ALREADY

NOT A RUBY AND THE DESIGN FOR A RING NO FUCKING WRITERS NEED TO CHILL THE HELL OUT WHAT THE FUCK

IT WAS BAD ENOUGH IT WAS THEIR WEDDING DAY BUT THEY DIDNT EVEN GET ENGAGED

WHY IS THE DARKLING GETTING MORE OF A FUNERAL THEN DAVID

Zoya and Nikolai finally in the same place and they’re not even gonna flirt

Ngl them having this conversation over the darkling burning corpse is a power play

AHHH THE BEE OMG THATS SO SMART THATS ACTUALLY SO SMART CAUSE ONLY SHOW WATCHERS ARENT GONNA NOTICE ANYTHING

OMG WHAT MALS GONNA BE A PRIVATEER?! WHAT

Yeah but if your paths are that you both decide not to see each other again that’s not really proving anything is it?

MAL DIDN’T GET THE TATOO THANK GOD

Bestie Alina don’t cry he’s really not worth it

INEJ PRAYING IN THE CHAPEL

Is that Kaz brekker? Yes it is!

AYYY MATTHIAS GOT HIS PARDON

AHHH HES SAYING GOODBYE BUT KAZ BREKKER DOESNT SAY GOODBYE

HES BEEN SENDING SPIES TO AUCTIONS TO TRY AND FIND THE GUY WHO KIDNAPPED HER

HE WAS LOOKING FOR HER FAMILY BECAUSE HE DIDNT WANT HER TO LOSE HER BROTHER

INEJ PRAYS FOR JORDIE

WHAT DO YOU WANT THEN?!?!! AHHHHH HE WAS GOING TO SAY YOU INEJ YOU AND THEN HE CHANGED HIS MIND AND SAID ABOUT THE GOLD

HIS MOUTH STARTED MOVING TO SAY YOU AND THEN HE STOPPED HIMSELF

HE ASKED HER TO STAY

FUCK OFF IM NOT OKAY RIGHT NOW

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

STAY IN KETTERDAM STAY WITH ME

I WANT YOU TO I WANT YOU

THEYRE TECHNICALLY HOLDING HANDS

AND HOW WILL YOU HAVE ME

I WILL HAVÉ YOU WITHOUT YOUR ARMOR KAZ BREKKER OR I WILL NOT HAVE YOU AT ALL

I CANNOT COPE WITH THIS LIKE AT ALL

Off topic but Inej looks so gorgeous

ITS THE WAY THE TWO MAIN KANEJ SCENES IN THIS SHOW BOTH TAKE PLACE IN PLACES OF WORSHIP?!

THE HOPE IN HIS EYES WHEN SHE SAID I WILL HAVE YOU

AHHHH NADIAS GOING WITH TAMAR

AHHH MALS STURMHOND NOW?!

OMG INEJ IS GOING WITH

FUCK OFF NO WHAT

I WAS CONCERNED A FEW EPISODES BACK THAT TOLYA WAS CRUSHING ON INEJ AND NOW IM SCARED AGAIN

ISNT HE ARO IM PRETTY SURE HES ARO

It’s giving pirates of the Caribbean theme song

YES INEJ IS HUNTING SLAVERS

BUT MAL IN NIKOLAIS COAT IS DODGY

NO MATTHIAS HAS TO FIGHT WOLVES

PEKKA ROLLINS GO KILL YOURSELF RIGHT NOW

MINOR SLAY FROM MATTHIAS?!

OOOOO NINAS PIIIISSED

Oh shit Nina the letter!!

HES BUYING OUT INDENTURES FOR INEJ

AND THAT GIRL KESH FROM THE FIRST EPISODE

Aaaaaa slay Nikolai

Nooooo Nikolai

HE LOOKS LIKE THAT FANART THE OUTFIT DOES WITH THE BREECHES

AHHHH HES TURNED INTO A DEMON

SLAY ALINA HONESTLY THAT CROWN IS A GOOD LOOK

NOT UNLESS YOUR THINKING OF ME INSTEAD OF TRYING TO FORGET HIM

AHHH NIKOLAI AND ZOYA IN THE SAME ROOM AGAIN

Zoya and genya are also looking gorgeous

YES ZOYA YOU COULD INDEED FIX HIM

Omg so is the triumvirate gonna be zoya genya and Alina rather than David?!

But I look amazing in blue YES YOU DO

OMG ZOYA CALLED THEM A TRIUMVIRATE (which is also not how I thought it was pronounced like at all)

AN OPPORTUNITY HAS PRESENTED ITSELF METHINKS ITS THE ICE COURT

WHICH MEANS THEY HAVE TO GET INEJ BACK NO?!

Ayyyy nikolais officially king

Are divorces a thing? If Nikolai and Alina get married then they just get divorced and Nikolai can end up with zoya right??

JURDA PAREM

SHES GONNA TRY KILL NIKOLAI

Oh god turn nikolais coronation into a bloodbath why don’t you

Slay Alina

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers

[loganofthenorth]

writing prompt from some dialogue

"... Go home, Mehri. You don't know what you're doing."

"Go home, Mehri... You don't know what you're doing." Terri warned.

They had her surrounded, seven men, five women, ten people she either couldn't quite identify the gender of or knew were non binary.

She couldn't blame them for turning on her. She was holding a weapon that could destroy all of them after all.

"I know exactly, what I'm doing." Mehri snapped, her voice angry and growling at first, then, after a pause, it became cold, stern, and calculated.

"Mehri, don't you want to see your nephews again?" A woman named Henari reasoned. "I want my nephews, my family, everyone to know I was part of this. That I was one of the people that carried this weapon, that helped in its destruction." Mehri argued.

"Okay, then give the weapon to Terri. You've had it for too long. It's-" Henari began. "No! It is my duty to carry it! It's mine!" Mehri snarled. "Mehri, please. There won't be anyone to know your achievements if you use that weapon now." Terri told her.

Mehri waved a weapon in the air, not the world ending one in her hands, but a sword that existed as her personal weapon. From the magical golden blade, a warning shot of fire was sent towards them, causing most of the team to stagger back or shield themselves, and some to attack.

"Wait, don't!" Henari called, but it was too late. Mehri used the weapon and killed her attackers, hands shaking as their bodies burned alive, turning into ashes and being swept up into the wind.

Mehri cried as she fell to her knees. The army, despite most of their anger, was ordered to stand down.

"Take it." Mehri cried, tossing both her weapons to Terri. "I... I didn't want to..." She sobbed, her body shaking as Henari walked over to comfort her.

"Go home, Mehri. I promise you will be honoured for your work." Terri said in a softer tone as he retrieved the weapons. "But I-" Mehri began. "Killed three team members during combat. The corruption of the weapon blinded you." Terri assured her.

Mehri hesitated, unsure she deserved this... but she knew the best thing she could do was to go home. "I... I am sorry..." She whispered. "We know..." Henari assured her.

"Henari, go with her. Make sure she gets home safe." Terri ordered. Henari nodded, and followed Mehri back down the mountain path. The army gave Terri a questioning look, but Terri simply continued leading the way, as if nothing had happened.

There wasn't much they could do but to keep going.

#writing prompt #cw: accidental murder #cw: burning alive

[dracharenae]

His breath stank of the wine Dany had gotten him at the bazaar. His judgement clouded and he could hear the feast happening without him. The Targaryen King walks in, demanding for his sister, angry and tired Viserys notes how the Dothraki Dogs look at him and it makes him enraged. They look at him with disgust, with a look of pity and now as he walks in sword in tow they look at him with horror and anger. Though he doesn’t register the last two. Just as he’s about to yell at Khal Drogo and his slut of wife, he feels a hand pull him back, which makes Viserys yank free of the grasp, turning on the person quickly, his lilac eyes crazed in rage and his matted hair flung across his face. “How dare you touch the Dragon! I will-” He stops as he sees it’s Rhaenys not Jorah that holds him, though the exiled knight is close by. 

Viserys is still reeling from his emotions, not softening from Rhaenys’s touch. “I want to sit with Khal Drogo and my sister. I am a King. I deserve that respect, you sit with them. Why should I be shunned to sit with the elderly and blind? I deserve more respect then this Rhaenys. Even the sellswords in Esso gave me more respect!” Though he would never admit their version of respect was fake and ended with the food being eaten, the gold taken and Viserys left with nothing to show for it. Least here there was a long await to a promise. 

༺✹༻ IT IS THE SHARP BREATH FROM SER JORAH that first catches rhaenys' attentions. her head turns, curious at first, to level her gaze at the bear knight. his hand is latched onto the hilt of his sword and his steely eyes are sharply set in a different direction. there is only a fleeting moment of ignorance, in quiet speculation where rhaenys could have imagined a million and one things, before it comes crashing down. she hears his voice. it is doused in wine and there is a sway to his movement as he guides himself through the crowd . . . no, no, no. rhaenys' eyes flash towards dany, who has not yet been made aware of viserys' presence. her purple eyes are focused on khal drogo. good. rhaenys stays jorah's hand as she pushes through the crowd, eventually latching ahold of viserys' arm herself. as to be expected, he puts up a fight. his words are bitter and angry and his eyes threaten to spill with tears, but none of it matters. rhaenys cannot afford to feel sympathy for him in this moment, or pity. she needs to get him out before he causes a scene. or worse, gets himself killed. she quickly scans the crowd, then pulls viserys through a small gap of dothraki towards the exit. he struggles, but her grip tightens.

❝ respect isn't a gift in the khalasar, viserys it's earned, ❞ rhaenys hisses. once parted through the tent, she uses all of her effort to shove him. she stands protectively at its entrance, ignoring looks she earns from other members of the khalasar. her heart clenches as she looks upon viserys. a frightened boy, she thinks. he's still the frightened boy who first left dragonstone, the one who had clung onto his mother and lost the house with the red door. i know. i was there. we share the pain, viserys, but dany does not suffer for it. she won't. rhaenys straightens, steeling herself for whatever anger or abuses viserys means to throw her way. dany. dany. dany. she chants the khaleesi's name in her head like a mantra. for her. ❝ dany and i wear their clothes, we speak their language. they respect us. all you have done is insult them ceaselessly and expect to be called a king in return. you can't, vis. that's not how this works . . . it's not just the three of us, anymore. dany is a khaleesi now. we must respect her husband and her people, or what are we to do ? ? ? do you expect khal drogo to give you his army if you are perpetually cruel to his wife and berating his people ? ? ? viserys, please - i am asking you . . . go back to your tent. sleep the wine off. and return with apologies for dany and her khal. i don't want you to get hurt because of this. ❞

@notenoughmuses

#༺✹༻ notenoughmuses ; thread. #༺✹༻ ic. #༺✹༻ queue. #༺✹༻ v ; exiled dragon ( essos ).

[cassandraclare]

The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed.  “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves’ compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself,  reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

#the whispering room #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #cassandra clare #cassandra jean #chain of gold

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Seven Hundred & Sixty-One Days (Part 6)

We’re approaching the end! I anticipate just one more chapter after this one.

In case you needed a refresher, the previous chapter is linked here

Azriel POV. 1.7k words

The only movement Azriel dared make was the bob of his throat as he thickly gulped down his surprise at how his night was unfolding. Fearful that if he moved even an inch, Elain may disappear, or worse, proceed to curse him. Either way, he’d deserve it.

Instead, she continued her decent the last couple steps of the staircase and stood in the entryway before him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. He had never heard her voice so flat, particularly when it was directed toward him. He couldn’t blame her; he had caused this.

“I’m sorry. I thought the Town House would be empty. I couldn’t sleep. Cassian—I… I just couldn’t sleep.” He finished lamely.

He stood up, leaving his whiskey forgotten on the table. “Apologies, I’ll leave.”

Elain watched him carefully uncoil from the armchair, casting his eyes down at the floor as he shuffled his way out of the sitting room toward the front door. Shadows swirled at his feet, muffling his footsteps.

He had made it from the sitting room and across the foyer toward the front door before she spoke.

“You left me.” Her voice was small, but not weak.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder and beheld her expression. Her face was set in a mask of apathy, conveying such little emotion he almost huffed a laugh. That was his face, his perfected look of stoic indifference.

“That night. I know you felt something. But you still left me.”

His heart pounded in his chest so loudly he was surprised she couldn’t hear it. He was surprised the reverberations of his heart weren’t rattling the windows. He was certain it was attempting to break through his ribcage and explode out of his chest at this stage, trying to make its way to the one person who owned it so completely. Make its way to the only person that could make it whole…or shatter it.

“I…I didn’t want to leave. Elain, I should not have approached you that night…” His scarred hard rubbed the back of his neck. Why was this so hard? Just apologise you idiot.

“You called me a mistake.” She sounded hurt, the words were whispered into the dark, slicing through his flesh, directly into his very soul. Swift like a dagger.

“Elain,” he groaned, his palms upturned before him in a gesture of pacification. “No. Not you, never you. You are not a mistake. It’s just…”

“Azriel!” At the utter demand in her voice, he stopped breathing, stopping moving. Even the shadows brave enough to linger ceased their whirling.

“Just stop! Stop treating me like a child! Either tell me what you’ve so clearly been keeping from me or leave!” Her chest heaved in anger, her breath exhaled heavily through her nose in jagged puffs.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, in surprise. He’d never heard his name from her lips before. Not like that. It made him want to sink to his knees and beg for her forgiveness, just so he could perhaps hear it again. Even if she was admonishing him.

He sucked in long breath, steeling himself as if he were preparing for battle. But he would don no armour this time, swing no sword. He’d let her slash him down to the marrow, expose him so completely, if it meant he could make her understand. If it meant she could know how sorry and pitifully depressed he has been since he walked away from her on Solstice.

“Elain, please…believe me when I say to you- the last thing I wanted to do that night was leave you. Please,” he willed her to understand. Begged for her discernment. “But, you have a mate…” the last word was a strangled whisper, like it pained him to say the word.

Her face remained hard, but the light in her eyes stuttered. The gleam behind her chocolate brown eyes dimming. “I don’t have a mate; I don’t want a gods damned mate,” she muttered darkly, so at odds wither usual soft demeanour.

Azriel gave her a weary look to convey, yes- you do.

She lifted her chin and opened her mouth, closed it again, seemed to rally herself, before she opened her mouth once more and the next words tumbled out from her lips. “I rejected the bond today. Me and Lucien—it’s done.”

She had—

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The world felt as if it was ripped from beneath him. His stomach bottomed out and his heart plunged to his feet. He was dreaming. This couldn’t be real. Lucien, for one, would never go through with it. This was another cruel vision, cast upon his mind purely to torture him further. She had rejected her Cauldron gifted bond.

She was staring up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, when he realised, he hadn’t said anything in an awkwardly long amount of time whilst his brain had spiralled and ultimately short circuited. He sucked in a breath, “Elain… that must have been very hard. You didn’t have to do that…”

Her eyes hardened again. “I didn’t do it for you, you overgrown bat!”

His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, her admonishment sobering him almost completely. He’d never seen Elain so… confrontational. So un-put-together. She looked how he felt.

She continued, “I did it for me. All my life— no. I did it for me.”

He took a step back toward her, back toward the warmth of the house, toward her upturned chin and defiant expression. “Is Lucien still in Velaris? Is that why you’re here?”

She didn’t balk from the mention of her mate. Former-mate?

“No, he left shortly after. I just wanted to be alone. Feyre and Rhys kept glancing at me like I was going to burst into tears any second. I couldn’t stand it,” she sounded bitter, exasperated and tired now.

She continued. “Cassian reminded me the Town House would be empty. In case I needed space. He flew me over after dinner.”

Cassian. Had he heard him return to the House of Wind earlier? Had he purposely been loud whilst between the sheets with Nesta? He wouldn’t put it past his meddling brother to force a situation like this. Drive Azriel to the only place he thought he could get peace.

Remembering his brothers’ words from this morning, Azriel steeled himself. Cassian had been right. He’d thought he’d made his feelings obvious to Elain, but that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Elain, I apologise for not being clear with you. And I should have been explicit in expressing my feelings for you…”

Her face turned weary, a small crease forming between her brows. She drifted closer to him, cautiously, but closer all the same, as if the magnetism between them was finally winning out over her anger at the Shadowsinger. “Your feelings for me?” she prompted, when Azriel seemed at a loss at how to continue.

He dipped his face toward the ground, his hair falling across his brow and into his eyes, hands held out before him, exposing his scarred palms. A blush crept up his cheeks before he angled his face to peer into hers.

His gaze pierced hers, ensuring his hazel eyes held the attention of her brown ones before he uttered the next words that would seal his fate. One way or another.

“I cannot stop thinking about you, Elain.”

Her eyes widened and he watched the delicate skin of her throat bob as she swallowed thickly.

“Thoughts of you plague my mind, day and night. Elain… I can’t stay away. I don’t want to stay away.”

She stared back at him, her eyes clearer than he’d ever seen them before, the chocolate brown of her irises swirling, like she beheld something within him that was worthy of her time. Worthy of her attention. Worthy.

The silence ticked on, and for the first time in his life he hated it. He usually relished in the silence, in the tranquil calm of moments between chaos. Right now, however, he wished nothing more than Elain’s sweet voice shattering the heavy stillness, wished for her to say anything. Anything to end the misery of his spiralling thoughts.

He didn’t dare drop her gaze and still she stood before him, staring into his open face. The cold mask she had worn was dropped, her expression now discerning something, the cogs of her mind churning in thought.

Clad in that ivory nightgown, the faint light from the fireplace gilding her golden-brown hair setting her aglow, he couldn’t help but think she looked like an angel. A vision. She was an absolute vision of devastating beauty and unmatched grace. He would crawl over hot coals just to beg for her forgiveness if she didn’t speak soon.

Her eyes solidified, as if she’d made up her mind about something and she took another tentative step toward him, only a few feet between them now.

“So don’t,” she finally replied, whispering the words into the charged space between their bodies. “Don’t stay away, Azriel.”

A single, chocked sob escaped his throat as the lilt in her voice wrapped around his name deliciously. He wanted to hear her say it over and over.

His heart hammered erratically, as he beheld the decision in her face. His muscled chest heaved, his breathing becoming shallow and laboured, as he finally gained feeling of his legs again and took two long strides toward her. Azriel stopped just a handbreadth away from her, peered down into her lovely face, and sank to his knees.

*******

tagging: @the-laughing-bubble​ @mis-lil-red​ @offtorivendell​ @fawnandshadows​ @pagemasters​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @elriellover​ @lesolehabitantdelalune​

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #t writes #writing #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfic #elain x azriel #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #elain #elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #pro elriel #761days #post acosf #angst