#Power crown dislikes being in a cage

[hatscomic]

Still shopping! Part 3

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

A Tyrell in the Lion's Den (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word count: 3.4k

Pairing: Tywin Lannister x Tyrell!reader

Summary: A Tyrell woman, bored and frustrated in King's Landing, unexpectedly falls for Tywin Lannister as their teasing evolves into a secret and deepening relationship

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Being in King’s Landing was nothing like being at Highgarden. At home, the air was scented with roses, and the fields stretched as far as the eye could see. There was always something to do, someone to see, or some mischievous game to engage in with my siblings. But here, in the capital, I felt as though the walls of the Red Keep were closing in on me, stifling my spirit and curbing my freedom.

Margaery, of course, seemed to flourish in this gilded cage. My younger sister was ever the perfect lady, effortlessly charming and graceful, as if she were born to wear the crown she was soon to inherit. But I could see what others could not—how carefully she measured every smile, every glance, every word. She was playing a dangerous game, and while I respected her for it, I had no taste for it myself. I craved the sun on my face, the earth beneath my feet, the wild freedom of Highgarden. But in King’s Landing, there was none of that.

The days passed slowly, each one bleeding into the next with nothing to distinguish it. I tried to fill the hours with walks in the gardens, but even they paled in comparison to the ones at home. I would spend afternoons in the library, but the tomes held little interest when my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home. I dined with the court, attended the various events Margaery was obligated to attend, but all the while I felt like an outsider. The courtiers were insipid, the knights pompous, and the noble ladies shallow. I was bored out of my mind.

Then, one evening, I found my distraction.

We were dining with the Lannisters, Margaery’s soon-to-be family. The atmosphere was tense, as it often was when the Tyrells and Lannisters gathered. My grandmother, Olenna, was sharp-tongued and unrelenting, and I loved her for it. She took every opportunity to poke at the lions, her remarks as barbed as any sword. Margaery, as usual, played the innocent, delicate flower, but I knew better. She was a Tyrell through and through.

And then there was Tywin Lannister.

The Lord of Casterly Rock was an imposing figure, his presence commanding the room. His icy gaze swept over everyone as though they were mere pawns on his chessboard. He was the most formidable man I had ever met, and I disliked him immediately.

I also found myself strangely fascinated by him.

As the dinner progressed, I found myself watching him, studying the way he interacted with his family and ours. He was as cold and calculating as I had expected, but there was something else there, something beneath the surface. He was a man who had built his house into the most powerful in the realm, who had orchestrated the rise of his children to positions of unimaginable power. And yet, I sensed a weariness in him, a tiredness that came from shouldering the weight of the world for far too long.

I decided to entertain myself by irritating him. It wasn’t difficult—he was so rigid, so controlled, that any small breach in protocol seemed to annoy him. I began with little things: interrupting him while he was speaking, contradicting his opinions with the sweetest smile, deliberately misunderstanding his intentions. To my delight, I noticed his jaw tightening, the only outward sign of his irritation.

After dinner, as the men gathered for their usual discussions and the women for their gossip, I found myself seeking him out. He was standing by one of the windows, looking out over the city, no doubt lost in thought about whatever grand scheme he was concocting. I approached quietly, standing beside him and mimicking his stance.

"A fine view," I remarked, though in truth, I found the city ugly compared to the sprawling beauty of Highgarden.

"Indeed," Tywin replied, his voice clipped. "One can see much from here."

"Including the dangers?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. He glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"Especially the dangers," he said.

"How exhausting," I sighed dramatically. "To always be on the lookout for treachery and deceit. How do you manage it, Lord Tywin?"

"It is a necessary burden," he said, turning his gaze back to the city. "One that I bear gladly for the sake of my family and the realm."

"A noble sentiment," I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "Though I wonder if it leaves any room for joy."

He looked at me then, truly looked at me, and I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Joy is a luxury," he said. "One that few can afford."

"And what about you, my lord? Can you afford it?"

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, and I knew I had hit a nerve. He didn’t answer, and I didn’t press him. Instead, I gave him a sweet smile and curtsied slightly.

"Well, if ever you find yourself in need of a distraction, you know where to find me," I said, before turning and walking away, leaving him to his thoughts.

Over the next few weeks, I made it my mission to annoy Tywin Lannister at every opportunity. Whether it was at dinners, during court sessions, or in passing conversations, I would always find some way to needle him. A careless remark here, a sly comment there, all designed to get under his skin. To his credit, he rarely showed his irritation in public, but I could see it in the way his eyes would narrow slightly, or how he would clench his jaw.

It became the highlight of my days, this little game of ours. It made King’s Landing bearable. And, truth be told, I started to look forward to our encounters. He was the only one in the capital who challenged me, who didn’t treat me like a delicate flower to be admired from afar. He was formidable, and I enjoyed matching wits with him, even if he didn’t realize that was what we were doing.

My family, of course, noticed.

"My dear, you seem to spend quite a lot of time in Lord Tywin’s company," Margaery said one afternoon as we walked in the gardens.

"Oh, I just find him... fascinating," I replied, feigning innocence. "Don’t you?"

Margaery laughed, a light, melodic sound that masked her sharpness. "I find him intimidating. But then, I’m not as brave as you."

"Brave? Hardly," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "I just like to poke at him. It’s like trying to ruffle the feathers of a stone statue."

"You do more than poke, dear," my grandmother Olenna chimed in as she joined us. "I think the old lion has taken quite a shine to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Nonsense. He barely tolerates me."

"Men like Tywin Lannister don’t tolerate anything they don’t want," Olenna said with a knowing look. "And I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

I felt a blush creep up my neck. "He’s an old man, and I’m merely a distraction."

"Sometimes, distractions can become more," Margaery said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Perhaps he sees something in you that you don’t see in yourself."

I didn’t dignify that with a response, though I couldn’t help but wonder if they were right. Was there something more to this game I had been playing with Tywin? Did he see me as more than just an annoyance?

The next time I encountered Tywin was at another of the many dinners we attended. This time, I decided to push him a little further.

"Lord Tywin," I said sweetly as I sat beside him, "do you ever tire of these endless dinners and formalities? I imagine they must be dreadfully boring for a man of your... stature."

He looked at me, his gaze cool. "Boredom is a luxury I cannot afford."

"Ah, yes. Always the dutiful servant of the realm," I said with a mock sigh. "It must be so exhausting, always being the one in control, the one who must bear the weight of the world."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you pity me, Lady Tyrell?"

"Pity? No, my lord. I admire you," I said, and for once, I wasn’t being entirely sarcastic. "You’re a man who knows what he wants and takes it. There’s something... refreshing about that."

He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I was mocking him or not. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. It was a small smile, barely more than a quirk of his lips, but it was there.

"And what is it that you want, Lady Tyrell?" he asked, his tone curious.

I blinked, taken aback by the question. What did I want? Freedom, certainly. The open fields of Highgarden, the sweet scent of roses, the feel of the sun on my skin. But beyond that?

"I want to be seen," I said, surprising myself with the admission. "Not as just another pretty face or a pawn in someone else’s game, but as a person in my own right."

Tywin’s gaze softened, just a fraction. "You are seen," he said quietly. "By those who matter."

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around us faded. There was no King’s Landing, no political machinations, no family expectations. Just us, two people who had found something unexpected in each other.

I quickly looked away, my heart pounding. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to tease him, annoy him, make my time in the capital more bearable. I wasn’t supposed to… feel anything for him.

But the more I tried to deny it, the more I realized that I was drawn to him. Tywin Lannister, the cold, calculating, fearsome lion, had somehow managed to slip past my defenses. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

As the days turned into weeks, our encounters became more frequent. Tywin would seek me out at dinners, in the gardens, even during court sessions. Our conversations grew deeper, more personal, and I found myself looking forward to them more than I cared to admit.

My family, of course, noticed the change.

“You seem to be in a better mood these days,” Margaery remarked one evening as we prepared for bed. “I take it Lord Tywin is proving to be more than just a distraction?”

I huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an old man, and I’m just… amusing myself.”

Olenna cackled from her chair by the fire. “Amusing yourself, is it? My dear, you’re playing with fire. And I think you’re starting to enjoy the burn.”

I glared at her. “I’m not falling for him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Of course not,” Margaery said, though the smirk on her face said otherwise. “But just remember, sister, that the most dangerous games are the ones where we don’t realize we’re the ones being played.”

I didn’t respond, though her words lingered in my mind long after she left the room. Was I being played? Or was I the one playing Tywin? And did it even matter anymore?

The turning point came during a feast celebrating Margaery’s upcoming wedding. The hall was filled with nobles, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and rich wine. The music was lively, the laughter louder, but all I could think about was the man sitting across the room.

Tywin had been watching me all night, his gaze a constant weight on me. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the festivities, but I found myself glancing at him more than I should. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I excused myself from the table and slipped out into the gardens, hoping the cool night air would clear my head.

I hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to find Tywin standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Lord Tywin,” I said, my voice more breathless than I intended. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he replied, stepping closer. “But I think I already know.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. “And what is it that you think, my lord?”

He took another step, closing the distance between us. “I think you’re tired of the games, as am I.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us crackling in the air. And then, before I could think better of it, I reached up and kissed him.

It was a bold move, one that surprised both of us. But after a brief hesitation, he responded, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me close. The kiss was fierce, passionate, and I felt as though I was being consumed by it, by him.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret, but all I saw was desire.

“This… this doesn’t change anything,” I said, though even I wasn’t sure what I meant by that.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tywin agreed, his voice rough. “But it also changes everything.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He was right. This did change everything. But what that meant, I wasn’t sure.

In the days that followed, I found myself thinking more and more about Tywin. Our stolen kiss haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Would he pursue me? Would I pursue him? Or would we both pretend it never happened and continue our little game?

My family, of course, noticed my distraction.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Olenna remarked as we broke our fast one morning. “Thinking about a certain lion, are we?”

I rolled my eyes. “Grandmother, please. I’m just… trying to figure out what to do with myself. King’s Landing is so dreadfully boring.”

“Boring? Or is it that you’re too afraid to admit you’ve fallen for him?” Margaery asked, her tone light but her eyes serious.

“I haven’t fallen for him,” I said, though the words felt hollow. “I just… enjoy his company, that’s all.”

“Enjoy his company?” Olenna cackled. “My dear, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. There’s more than just ‘company’ there.”

I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go. “Fine. Maybe there is something more. But it’s complicated. He’s Tywin Lannister, for gods’ sake. And I’m… well, I’m me.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Margaery asked, tilting her head. “You’re a Tyrell. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and you’ve managed to capture the attention of the most powerful man in the realm. That’s no small feat.”

“But what if it’s just a game to him?” I asked, voicing my deepest fear. “What if I’m just another pawn in his grand scheme?”

Olenna reached across the table and patted my hand. “You may be a pawn, my dear, but you’re a clever one. And I have a feeling that Tywin Lannister doesn’t see you as a mere piece to be moved. He sees you as an equal, a partner. And that, my dear, is something to be reckoned with.”

That night, I found myself wandering the halls of the Red Keep, unable to sleep. My thoughts were a whirlwind, and I needed to clear my head. I didn’t have a destination in mind, but my feet seemed to know where they were going.

I ended up outside Tywin’s chambers, my heart pounding in my chest. I hesitated, unsure of what I was doing, but then the door opened, and there he was, as if he had been expecting me.

“Lady Tyrell,” he said, his voice low and even. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“I… I’m not sure,” I admitted, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I just… needed to see you.”

He stepped aside, allowing me to enter his chambers. I looked around, noting the sparse, almost austere furnishings. It was a room that reflected the man who inhabited it—practical, efficient, and devoid of any unnecessary comforts.

Tywin closed the door behind me and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Why are you really here?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Because I’m tired of playing games,” I said, echoing his words from the garden. “I’m tired of pretending that there’s nothing between us when there clearly is.”

He regarded me for a long moment, his gaze intense. “And what do you want from me, Lady Tyrell?”

“I want you to be honest with me,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I want to know where we stand. Is this… whatever this is… is it real? Or am I just another piece on your board?”

Tywin’s expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask. “You are not a piece on my board,” he said quietly. “You are… more than that. Far more.”

I felt a surge of emotion at his words, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it so easily. “Then what am I to you?”

“You are a challenge,” he said, taking a step closer. “A distraction. A temptation. But more than that, you are someone who sees me as I am, not as the world expects me to be. And that is something I did not expect to find.”

“And what about you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“I see a woman who is brave, intelligent, and not afraid to speak her mind,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I see someone who challenges me in ways I haven’t been challenged in years. And I see someone who I am… drawn to, despite my better judgment.”

My breath caught in my throat at his admission. “And what do we do now?”

Tywin reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “Now, we stop pretending,” he said before lowering his lips to mine.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with all the unspoken words between us. When we finally pulled apart, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

“Whatever happens,” Tywin said, his forehead resting against mine, “know that this is real. You are not just a distraction, not just a game. You are something I never expected to find in King’s Landing.”

“And you,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion, “are something I never expected to want.”

We stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, both of us realizing that we had crossed a line we could never uncross. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I didn’t want to go back.

This was real. This was something more than either of us had anticipated. And whatever happened next, we would face it together.

As the days passed, our relationship deepened. We were careful to keep it hidden from the court—Tywin, after all, had a reputation to maintain, and I had no desire to become the subject of court gossip. But in the quiet moments we stole away together, I found myself growing closer to him than I ever thought possible.

My family, of course, was not fooled.

“You seem… different,” Margaery remarked one morning as we broke our fast. “Happier, perhaps?”

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I’ve just… found something to occupy my time.”

Olenna smirked. “And does this ‘something’ have a name?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Grandmother, please.”

“Oh, don’t be coy, dear,” Olenna said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve finally found something—or someone—to make your time in King’s Landing more bearable.”

“And if I have?” I asked, meeting her gaze. “Is that so wrong?”

Olenna’s expression softened. “Not at all, my dear. Just be careful. Tywin Lannister is a powerful man, but he’s also a dangerous one. Don’t lose yourself in him.”

“I won’t,” I promised, though I wasn’t entirely sure if I believed it myself. Tywin was a force of nature, and being with him was like being caught in a storm. But it was a storm I had no desire to escape.

Margaery, for her part, was more supportive. “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy,” she said as we walked in the gardens later that day. “Just… be careful. The court can be a treacherous place, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, though her concern touched me. “I’m not some naive girl who can’t handle herself. And Tywin… he’s different with me. I think I can trust him.”

“I hope you’re right,” Margaery said, squeezing my hand. “But just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

The Missing Piece

@rey-jake-therapist and I have been brainstorming and theorizing about what went down at the finale between Sauron and Galadriel.

From my part, I’ll suspend my dislike for the cringeworthy dialogue and the evil theatrics, because, personally, I didn’t like that scene (sorry) and I think it was badly-executed and that’s what causing the trouble here. The show focused more on spectacle than on the emotional weight of that scene, making it look as if Sauron was only manipulating and deceiving her (he wanted the rings and nothing more), and that Galadriel had no inner conflict whatsoever (she stops when she sees Halbrand, but it's for 2 minutes tops). 

Many of you have already mentioned how Sauron forced Galadriel to bind herself to him (by stabbing her with Morgoth’s iron crown) and that his plan was to make her a Ringwraith (like the Nazgûl of the Nine), but she jumped off a cliff (I will always hate this, sorry).

When I first presented my theory that Galadriel would be wounded by Morgoth’s iron crown at the finale and during her fight with Sauron (you can laugh at it, now), I also speculated that she would be left in a state similar to Frodo’s in “Fellowship of the Ring”, when he was injured by a Morgul blade (also forged by Sauron). And this wound will never heal, meaning she’s now bound to the darkness and to Sauron forever (or until she arrives at Valinor at the very end of the story). I have nothing to add here. 

In “Fellowship of the Ring”, when the Witch-king of Angmar stabs Frodo (at the ruins of the Tower of Amon Sûl), the blade dissolved soon afterwards, and a fragment of it remained within Frodo’s wound, working its way towards his heart and threatening to turn him into a ringwraith. He was saved by Elrond at Rivendell, when he was able to remove the shard and heal the wound, but each year on the anniversary of receiving the injury, Frodo became seriously ill, and only his departure to Valinor offered a permanent cure.  

Morgoth’s crown wasn’t missing anything (I believe), but it was created and used by Morgoth himself, meaning it’s power and dark magic is much stronger than in the Morgul-blades Sauron gave to the Nazgûl. Dealing with this will be, probably, Galadriel’s plot in Season 3, and kick-out her “Lady of the Light” arc. Because we all know the "final" result of this wound for Galadriel:

There seems to be a piece missing to complete this puzzle, emotional-wise, and provide this scene with that emotional weight that's lacking. And it always goes back to the “crack theory” of “it was Sauron on that tent scene of 2x07, and not Elrond”.

I’m aware some like this theory, some don’t (mostly because they believe the showrunners would never go there). I’ve already presented enough evidence on why it’s actually Sauron on that scene, so I won’t repeat myself here. If anything, 2x08 provide us with even more clues.

Adar's Death

Adar's death scene in 2x08 appears to parallel a scene we already saw on "Rings of Power". And I'm not talking about the opening scene of 2x01, which is the obvious answer.

In 1x06, when Halbrand/Sauron wants to kill Adar, for the first time, in the middle of the woods, but is stopped from doing so by Galadriel. During this scene, Adar tries to make sense of why this "mortal man" wants to kill him:

"A woman? A child?" Adar asks Halbrand/Sauron.

At this moment, in particular, this interaction was meant to be a clue towards Halbrand’s true identity (“he is Sauron”), because of Adar being the one responsible for destroying his previous physical form in betrayal. Halbrand wants to kill Adar with a spear (Sauron’s weapon of choice). 

However, in 2x07, Adar really does causes pain to the woman (she-elf) that Sauron loves. At the Battle of Eregion, Adar displays Galadriel trapped in a cage, and has one of his Orcs pierce and bled her neck with... a spear. 

And how does Sauron have Adar killed, at the end? In the middle of woods, like he meant to in 1x06. Using his children to cause him pain, and kill him. And Sauron does it in front of Galadriel, the woman he loves and was, previously, hurt by Adar. 

There are more references to 1x06 in 2x08, because when Sauron appears as Halbrand, he repeats to Galadriel his words to her in those same woods he wished to kill Adar.

Hence: this parallel can mean that Sauron, in fact, witnessed Adar flaunting and hurting Galadriel on the battlefield. I actually joked with @rey-jake-therapist about Adar being toasted after he pulled that off, because there was no way Sauron would let him get away with hurting his Queen... and I was right. 

We know, Sauron was at the walls of Eregion at the time, with Celebrimbor and the guards, and they all saw the arrival of the Elven army led by Elrond. And, yet, the show has given us no reaction from Sauron’s part on what was happening to Galadriel, after he spent an entire season obsessing over her. 

Glûg's death

Glûg’s death has "well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions" vibes for having betrayed Adar and sided with Sauron, instead.

At first, I thought this plot of having Sauron just talk to the Orcs and gain their loyalty so easily was kind of stupid. But when discussing it with @rey-jake-therapist, we got more insight.

Tolkien never specifically wrote about the Orcs lifespans: we know they aren’t immortal like the moriondor (Adar and the other Elves corrupted by Morgoth) and they reproduce like every other “humanoid” being. Meaning, Glûg has never met Sauron before, and has only heard the tales. He was already suspicious that Adar was sacrificing the Orcs for nothing, with other Orcs believing he was chasing a ghost. Well, when Glûg meets Sauron for the first time, he’s shocked to discover that he’s not terrible or cruel like he was told, but rather “nice” and soft-spoken (even asking his name). And, so, Glûg has the confirmation that Adar was, in fact, wrong and killing off his children for nothing... (well, he came to regret that at the end). 

However, Glûg is the one who places a blade at Galadriel’s neck during the “Adar and Elrond tent scene” in 2x07, and we see Elrond’s reaction to it. And so, if Adar was to give the order, it would have been Glûg who would kill Galadriel in that scene.

More: when “Elrond” taunts Adar about sacrificing the Orcs’ lives, the camera lingers on Glûg’s reaction... and guess who’s the first to side with Sauron in the next episode, and strike the first blow against Adar? 

In 2x08, Sauron kills Glûg after Galadriel throws herself off a cliff and he believes her dead.

Many assume this was done in a rage fit, but this isn’t Sauron’s character. And he already lost control with Celebrimbor in this episode and that’s why, according to Charlie Vickers, he cries in that scene: Sauron recalls his time at Morgoth’s side and doesn’t want to end up destructive and nihilist like his master was.

So I would argue the “rage fit” explanation is not it. Could it be, that Sauron - who is always gaslighting others and in self-denial trying to find justifications for his own actions and project them onto others (as Celebrimbor told him in 2x07) - kills Glûg because this Orc was the last being he saw threatening Galadriel’s life? And projects his own guilt onto him? And how could he know that, unless he was the “Elrond” in the room? Because Sauron is powerful, but he isn’t able to see everything just yet. 

Where do we go from here? 

With this insane among of clues and evidence, and how everything falls into place, there is no way the person in that tent with Adar is Elrond. Because if it is, there are plot holes the size of black holes in the story. If it's in fact Sauron everything fall into place and makes sense. And it would also explain the lack of "emotional weight" on their scene at the finale.

Season 3: there is the possibility the show might hold on to this reveal for next season. Since in 2x08, we see Sauron brutally killing both Celebrimbor and Adar, and later stabbing Galadriel, revealing this plot twist to the audience could be a little “WTF” and even lose its meaning. And it wouldn’t match the vibe they were going for with Sauron’s character in 2x08, especially since Sauron and Celebrimbor was the core of Season 2;

Ambiguous or "abandoned plot": this is my concern.

[prtector]

           — Some would whisper that the golden age of Demacia has passed. Unless you were wise enough to adapt to it’s ever changing ideals of justice, honor, and duty… founded by surviving refugees of the Rune Wars. Using petricite to protect themselves from magic. With time, the kingdom devolved into a magic-abhorring, mage-oppressing culture. Demacia was in a harrowing state. Once a land brimming of flourishing waters, fermenting the greenery from the harbor, now turned dark and ridden of blood. A bastion of ships, that which once carried the promise of returning fathers and sons, now docked and seemingly left without pilot and devoid of travel.

Taric disliked it. He very much despised it. All the life he had so cherished in his Demacian age of youth, had all been buried between this boiling cauldron of animosity amongst themselves. Here. —- in this city so proud of their cultural heritages and lofty-ideals. His days felt like it bled together as of late. Being among the peak of Targon’s mountain that touched the heavens, tasked to govern the life and protect all that dwell within Valoran. And the world itself. Then, a young lone intrepid explorer appears in her lonesome. She was beckoned at the summit with an objective, crystalline eyes inlaid upon the protector, her voice unwavering as the chill of the mountain caress her rosy cheeks and the blonde of her hair.

Thus did she declare her name, Luxanna Crownguard, and she sought for the man who triumphed the Crown of Stone that hailed from the land of Demacia. She brought with her a talisman embedded with her family crest. Taric would describe her attitude as something between a spoiled brat and self-sufficient individual. He had quickly learnt of the turmoil that had succumbed his homeland. The upheaval of protests led by a strong man that used his shackles for power. His sudden absence led putting innocent mages all across Demacia behind walls of stone and magic swallowing cages.

This included the nation’s sudden death of the king. Whom ruled even when, he, was ranked as Vanguard. He would listen as Luxanna voiced her enigmas, before she wept into her hands in guilt. Ashamed she even allowed herself to call the very man who manipulated her a friend. He can empathize with her. After all, this branded her someone with a calling. It would seem leaving Demacia proved to be fruitful, but she acknowledged leaving it the state as it were now, would not ease her anguished heart. Her face were toiled in a grimace, delicate fingers digging into the folds of her cloak and pulling it fitly over her small frame.

❝    i have a plan, Protector.   ❞

This plan is what got him coveting for protection in a sanctuary. A temple within Demacia, a semblance of a safe-haven for the Illuminators and other mages. With Luxanna’s clever path along Valoran’s estuary and into Demacia’s harbor, they didn’t need to enter through the Last Gate. He and Lux were esteemed loyal guests of the Illuminators, both having volunteered to provide charitable work for the sick and the orphaned. Having followers whom disapproved of the persecution of innocent mages proved to be supportive of cleverly hiding said mages or any person befitting of magical abilities.

Village folk or Illuminator, they greeted them at the harbor beneath the blanket of darkness and stars. They wear hoods, their profiles lithely cascaded in shadow. Lux took the lead, explaining her return in a bated breath, as well as provide identification of himself. Taric could feel his jaw fix in on itself, his dark hairs now pooling down his shoulders and descending over the hood he wore as well. As opposed to being able to defy the notion of gravity and float with the wind.

Taric had a feeling he wouldn’t be recognized as easily as his companion would’ve. It’s been many a decade since he had stepped upon these lands. His face had become more angular and age caught up to him beautifully. He was imposing in height and muscle, a stretch from the knight he was in youth. His hair long and overgrown. Limpid eyes appeared tired but were full of resolve. Once his name was uttered, the strangers would glance at another briefly, before a look of awe flashed on one of the stranger’s face. They stared at him like they looked upon the dead. Taric lowers his eyelids, lashes kissing his cheekbones.

Nobody in Demacia ever expected his return.

The Crown of Stone. A sentence that subjected him to climb Mount Targon. Many expected he would instead go into exile, daunted by the task that lay ahead. However, he accepted the challenge, a challenge befit of a soldier that honed his skills. It was a test the Demacians did not expect him to succeed in. The climb, in succession, would reward him with redemption. His failures would be overlooked with newly born eyes of respect. He would be welcomed back to his homeland. Taric hadn’t returned. He was a different man than he was when he left. Taric didn’t want his nation’s respect or apology.

In spite of all the admirations, hostilities… Taric found his calling. He doesn’t regret what he did. He doesn’t regret what he became as a result. The stars yearned for a new vessel worthy of daunting tasks. This brought another title to his name. The Protector. He doubted Demacia would want to welcome back a soldier of exile, lest a soldier now blessed with abilities that would make him appear like some wrathful god — being in the state as it is now. His title means nothing here. This wasn’t within Targon’s power.

[fuckingfinwions]

it's pretty fucking rich of curufin to call the servants perverts for doing what he/his family forced them to do! omg! also i love the detail that sometimes fingon is just like 'suffer bitch' and doesn't stop curufin from getting his own self in trouble. i wonder what celebrimbor thinks about all the tension between the three of them--he must be terrified, poor bby. also i love the detail that maedhros believes in thematic/ironic punishment. i imagine he does it a lot to curufin esp when hes str

*stressed abt ruling the noldor and whatnot. i wonder if he ever directly tells curufin that if he actually put any effort into it that he *might* be the best sex slave/concubine? just to have more 'competition' btwn him and fingon? (and maybe its just a ploy, hes much fonder of fingon just for actually just getting on with it and not being so annoying). also maglor and his elaborate shows. maglor sounds insufferable. is he rlly perfectionistic and dramatic with his directions/ideas/visions? ver

*very particular and demanding? i can also see some really dark domestic humor with like, maedhros being like 'tf are my sex slaves' and it turns out they're all tied up in rlly weird ways running through 'rehearsal' for the 50th time that night or sthg and maglor is like 'oh damn its morning? i hadnt noticed' and ends up having a very very weird party a few weeks later full of avant-garde noncon horror that his pretentious artsy friends who all applaud his 'vision'. also i had wondered, if maed

*maedhros ever feels like he needs to punish nolo or fingon but in a more 'ironic' way, does he do it by forcing them to punish or touch eac other? like if fingon winces or flinches at jsut the wrong moment or something 'oh if i'm so disgusting then i'm sure you'd prefer him to rim you' and nolo is ofc desperate to fix the situation with his son hurt as little as possible. cant imagine curufin wouldnt be very upset too if celebrimbor is brought into his own punishments. cant see that ending well

Celebrimbor is rather terrified by the whole situation, but luckily, all of the other Servants are interested in keeping him safe. Curufin of course wants to protect his son. Nolo doesn't want this to be happening to anyone, and Celebrimbor is the only one he's currently able to make things less terrible for. Fingon thinks that Curufin deserves everything he gets, but Celebrimbor is innocent; and also that Curufin is probably bad at caring for people in general and a bad father. Curufin's defiance, coming at the same time when Fingon learns just how much his own father sacrificed for him and his siblings, just cements that belief.

In practice, this works out to Fingon teaching Celebrimbor a lot about both how to navigate life as a servant and just general socialization. Celebrimbor is torn between trusting Fingon's advice, because Fingon is acting like an older sibling/uncle and Celebrimbor misses that type of connection; and doing his best to stay far far away from Fingon, because Fingon hates his dad and might use him as a proxy, and also look what just happened with Celebrimbor's uncles.

(Also, I think just before he comes of age, Celebrimbor is going to decide he wants his first kiss to be with someone who is NOT Maedhros or Maglor. He might find one of the normal servants' teenage kids, or he might kiss Nolo, as the least scary option. Maedhros is unlikely to notice, and wouldn't be too upset as long is it didn't go any farther - there'd be a punishment along the lines of wearing a stimulating plug and a cage for a day.)

I like the idea of Maedhros encouraging competition, but I think he'd go for it sightly differently. "You always thought you were so special. So smart, could've been a genius at anything you chose, the only reason you didn't make a marvelous invention was because all the easy breakthroughs had just been discovered. But now I see you're mostly an idiot. You perhaps have a little natural talent at forgework, but with different birth could have spent your whole life making nails and horse shoes and never thought of anything greater. You can imitate if someone has already shown you the steps, but you have no creativity of your own. Nor can you figure out how to apply your skills to a new area, instead guessing blindly and patternlessly. Poor Inke, can't even suck a cock without someone smarter telling him how to do so."

Maedhros purposely avoided directly mentioning Feanor. That tends to just make Curufin more defiant, reminded of his pride and that he ought to be a prince. Also, Maedhros is not sure Feanor would actually approve of his actions, and Feanor's potential anger on his return is a bit of a mood killer. Being immortal, Feanor never felt a need to discuss in detail what would happen if he died and Maedhros took the throne. Maedhros is confident he's following Feanor's example, but some instructions might have been nice.

Curufin is now going to try and be the best lover Maedhros has ever had, purely out of spite.

Yes, dark comedy where Maedhros wants Fingon to ride him, but he's too exhausted from practicing double pirouettes where he jumps and lands with his cock an inch away from a spiked post. Maglor says it symbolizes the short distance between despair and desire. Curufin then fucks him using a strap on that he's wearing backwards (symbolizing fear of intimacy) while Nolo does the splits and fingers himself (symbolizing the loss of community in modern society).

Maedhros just thinks that, as king, there ought to be someone with enough energy to get him off the way he likes. Maglor says he's an artist, you can't expect him to make a masterpiece without using all the instruments. Maedhros is privately thinking maybe he should have made Caranthir crown prince, then he'd only be down two at once as Caranthir pretended to be a sadist rather than a masochist, or maybe one of the Ambarussa.

I think Maedhros ends making Nolo officially allowed to refuse sexual orders from Maglor it's been going on for longer than five hours. Also, despite Maglor's protest of artistry, if it involves nudity or genitalia it counts as sex. Nolo isn't Maedhros's favorite, but he's pretty enough, and both Curufin and Fingon would totally take advantage of the out.

Maedhros makes Nolo and Fingon punish each other sometimes, by making them be the one to inflict pain. But he doesn't use sex with each other as a punishment. They''re just so hot, he wants to watch them touch each other multiple nights a week, and he's not the type to make up new rules as an excuse for punishments. And the point of a punishment is that it's something the person involved dislikes, true, but it's also supposed to be something that they can avoid, so that you actually change their behavior. Maedhros likes ordering Nolo to kiss Fingon, and kiss a line down his body, stopping to caress every inch of him as if he's the most beautiful thing in the world. No one believes that Maedhros would stop ordering it if Fingon didn't disobey, so it doesn't work well as a deterrent.

Re: Celebrimbor being brought into Curufin's punishments, I had an idea for "power play" which I didn't end up using. Maedhros is trying to get Curufin to behave, and Curufin is being stubborn, and also insulting Maedhros. So Maedhros beats Curufin with a crop, then ties him to Maedhros's bed.

Maedhros sets oil and a very large set of anal beads on the bed. Then he draws the bed curtains.

"I'm going to have my dinner here by the fire tonight. Celebrimbor is going to bring it to me, and wait on me throughout. When I've finished eating, I'll check on you. If you have all the beads inside you and your cock hard, I'll send Celebrimbor away for the evening while I play with you. If not, I pull back the curtains, and he gets to sit by and watch you. Do you understand?"

Curufin nodded. "Are you going to gag me?"

"Why would I do that? I don't mind if your son overhears you moaning."

[raspberryfanfics]

untangled—nejiweek day 6

Day 6 Prompt—Rebirth | Any AU

     IT’S A TANGLED AU YOU’RE WELCOME!

Once upon a time, in a kingdom full of many beautiful things and many ugly things, there was a child born to a nobleman and a princess. The nobleman was the second child of a marquess, title worth significantly less than his older twin, who was to inherit the property and title of his father. The princess was the only child of the royal family, the only in line to inherit the throne. She was to marry a prince from another country until it was found that she had borne a child, though few people knew whose it was.

Of course, the princess knew that the father was Hizashi Hyuga, the second-born nobleman, and he was aware as well. The third person aware of the child’s parentage was Hiashi Hyuga, the uncle of this child. Yet as the princess died, it was clear that the next in line to inherit the throne would be the child, though born to a man who would have a very small status, would one day become king. 

Thrown with cruel jealousy, Hiashi went to murder his own brother, who was to become the king consort after the princess became queen. However, it appeared that this outcome was predicted and Hizashi injected a vial of poison into his thigh, which would kill him slowly and painfully over the course of a week. The only available cure happened to be the hair of the current newborn, already long like his fathers, enchanted by a sorceress with the ability to heal anything. When the baby prince’s temples were pressed, veins would protrude near his eyes and a faint outline of a pupil would emerge from his silver eyes. This activated the power of the Byakugan, a healing energy that would keep Hiashi alive for another week.

Yet if the hair was completely cut, Hiashi would die immediately. When at first meaning to raise the baby on his own, the kingdom found the princess’s will, explaining that whomever had the mark of a manji and the same animal companion as the princess would be the heir to the throne. Over the years, several boys and girls were tattooed with the manji and given random animals, hoping that it would be the correct one and able to earn them the prince or princess. When realizing the prince had the tattoo and a chameleon who’s life was tied to his, Hiashi locked the baby in a tower far from the kingdom away to avoid suspicion of the mark. Neji’s forehead was always covered with a bandage. 

But every year on the day the princess died, the old king and queen sent birds all over, carrying information scrolls in search for the true heir, hoping that one day, someone would show to reclaim the throne.

— 

The prince’s name was Neji Hyuga and for the seventeen years of his life, he was never allowed to go outside of his tower. Part of this reason stood that he was taught to fear the outside world and that he would never be stronger than them. He didn’t know how others fought, thought that Hiashi was weak therefore he was weaker, though almost being able to beat him in a spar. He believed that Hiashi was his father and that his mother was dead. Perhaps that was the only truth that his uncle ever told him. 

So he would hang out with his chameleon Lee for hours on end and he’d educate himself about the outside world, read and train and draw and meditate. But what he longed to do was fly, for he loved birds and the way they could soar in the sky. On his birthday, there would be seemingly millions of birds everywhere, each of a different colour and what seemed to be a scroll on their leg. He wished to read them, wished to even touch one.

When his Hiashi came to feed him, and to brush his hair, that had never been cut besides a small strand on his neck, a couple weeks before his eighteenth birthday, he cautiously approached the subject of being allowed to explore the kingdom and to see the birds and their mysterious scrolls. However, his request was crushed, being told that the scrolls were just gibberish and he wouldn’t understand them. Disappointed, Neji went back to meditating.

Somewhere else in the kingdom, a handsome thief, tired of all the money the kingdom spent on the birds and the scrolls in order to find the lost prince, decided to take action. Her name was Tenten and through her wits, stored the prince’s crown with the help of two other thieves. To take the crown for herself, she tricked the two and rode off with a stolen horse named Gai.

Gai, though upset that she stole the crown, led her deep into the forest to escape the guards of the palace, only to tumble off a cliff. The two found a small tunnel hidden by vines and on the other side was a magnificent stone tower surrounded by scenery and nature. Tenten was only struck with awe for a moment before remembering needing to hide. 

She let Gai escape, knowing he would find her when she needed him and climbed to the top of the tower with her arrows. However, she couldn’t find time to rest or even look at the satchel with the crown before Neji attacked her, fighting furiously. Tenten defended herself with several different weapons, throwing them with deadly accuracy that he somehow seemed to avoid. What was even more impressive was the fact that he had not lost a single strand of his hair in the process. 

Lee the chameleon, who was a lot stronger than he looked, knocked her out with a frying pan.

Neji shoved Tenten into his wardrobe, excited with the victory of someone in the real world. He was convinced that if he showed Hiashi his ability to fend for himself, he would be allowed out of the tower. Yet his uncle rejected the idea before he could even propose it, so Neji, remembering the weapons the thief wields, instead asked for a bow and a set of arrows from the Kingdom of Iwa, as the journey there would be longer, giving him more time to escape.

When Hiashi left, he tied Tenten to a chair with his long hair and waited to interrogate her. Tenten woke up and was immediately astonished by how handsome Neji was and started to flirt with him shamelessly, which only made him confused. Disappointed, she answered the questions he asked, annoyed by the clueless guy.

However, Neji still had the crown and he proposed a deal: that she lead him see the birds and the scrolls in exchange for the crown. Tenten grudgingly agreed and they left the tower, which started to mess with the lost prince’s head. She then had the idea to take him to a pub with vicious thugs, who would probably dislike him very much and convince him to go back.

Hiashi had discovered Gai running around without anyone on his back and became suspicious, entering the tower through a secret tunnel and furious that he had left. 

The thugs were her friends and at the sight of how well-dressed Neji was, decided that he could be worth a lot. Ino thought his hair would make great extensions for her salon. Sakura thought his rich-looking clothes would be worth a lot. Saskue knew the price on Tenten’s head and wanted to turn her in, though everyone rejected that idea instantly. Yet Neji told them about his wish to be free and they were convinced and charmed by his presence. Naruto exclaimed thoughts about the old king and queen who were obsessed with finding their grandchild. Sakura and Choji were worried about all the people who didn’t have enough to eat and were dying of malnutrition. Kiba was worried about the animal cruelty. They all had their own wishes and welcomed Neji as one of them.

Suddenly, the guards looking for Tenten appeared and they had to run, jumping onto Gai’s back quickly and escaping many near-death experiences. They camped in the forest and Neji pressed his temples, activating the healing power of his hair. As he healed her wounds, he explained to her the Byakugan and how he was locked away because people would try to steal him for his hair, and how it would lose the power when cut. 

Having told Tenten his story, he asked about hers. She told him she was an orphan and stole to keep herself alive, and sometimes her friends. The crown could give her a better life, one where she didn’t have to steal anymore, and she wanted to relax. Tenten thought that his dreams of seeing the birds and the scrolls were stupid because the birds were captured and caged, only to be tied down with something they didn’t want. The money used to do this could have supported many villagers.

Though feeling guilty, Neji told her that the birds were still more free than he was, a reason he was so obsessed with them. While she left to gather firewood, Hiashi found Neji and returned the satchel with the crown, saying the Tenten would leave him if he gave it to her. He believed that there was romance between the two of them and that after everything they had been through, she wouldn’t leave him. Yet when she came back, he second-guessed himself and didn’t give her the crown.

The next day, Tenten brought Neji on a boat and during the afternoon, they watched the birds fly from the castle, each carrying a tiny little scroll on their ankles. They watched in awe and started to realize their feelings for each other. When a bird landed on their boat, she carefully untied a scroll and handed it to him. In turn, he gave her the crown she had stolen, asking if it meant that she would leave. Tenten told him she would stay and as they leaned in kiss, she pulled away at the sight of the two thieves she betrayed.

She took the crown and gave it to them, asking that they left her alone. Yet the two thieves had been approached by Hiashi and knew that Neji was much more precious than the crown. They knocked her out and tied her to the boat in a way that made it seem as if she was running away, leading her to the kingdom to face her death sentence. 

Neji, convinced that Tenten had left, went back to his tower with Hiashi, feeling extremely miserable. He suddenly remembered the scroll she had untied for him, and opened it. There was a mark on the scroll, a glowing green manji and two curves from it, one identical to the one on his forehead. On the corner, there was a small message asking that the lost prince with such a tattoo and an animal companion would return to the castle and take their rightful place on the thorne. 

He looked at Lee, whose bushy eyebrows raised in surprise, and memories rushed into his head. There were flashes of his old life, his father, his mother, the enchantress who blessed his hair, and he realized what had happened. Before his uncle left, Neji grabbed him by the collar and demanded the truth. Hiashi admitted to his crimes and realizing that there was no way he’d convince the prince to stay locked up, they engaged in a spar. 

It was vicious, cruel, and tight. Yet Hiashi was way more experienced and bound Neji to a post after his defeat. He now would resort to taking the cure of the hair by force.

As she was led out of prison to her death sentence, Tenten found the two thieves who she formerly worked with and found it suspicious. She knocked out the two guards while in handcuffs and demanded to know how they found out about Neji and what had happened to her. They revealed that Hiashi took him back and that was when she knew he was in danger. 

Several more guards came to take Tenten away until she realized that something was off, but in a good way. A flash of pink hair, orange jacket, and onyx eyes took away the guards by her side so fast she could barely comprehend it. As she ran, the people chasing her were slowed down by Shikamaru and she knew they were slowed down even further when she saw way too much cleavage and a sultry tone, and even slower after the booming vibrations of Choji’s footsteps. 

In the courtyard, she was poorly hyped up by Shino, who made her stand on a wooden board angled on a rock. Kiba dropped his dog onto the other side and she flew into the air, landing on Gai. To her surprise, a girl who looked similar to Neji but a lot more timid faced her. She recognised the girl as Hinata Hyuga and several things started to click together in Tenten’s mind.

Hinata gave Tenten a blade and told her to cut Neji’s hair, as it would kill her father. She too did not want the marquess alive and with that, the thief rode to the tower with terrifying speed. Upon arriving at the tower, she called for his hair, climbing it to the top of the tower to make sure Neji was ok.

However, she barely got a glimpse of him before Hiashi plunged a knife into Tenten’s abdomen. Neji, still tied up, screamed in fury and begged that to let him heal her he would never leave the tower again and live for the soul purpose of providing for his evil uncle. Even with her protests, the price insisted.

Hiashi chained her down and freed Neji, who hurried to Tenten’s side, wrapping his hair around her wound, about to press him temples to activate his Byakugan. As she grabbed onto his neck, seeming to kiss him, she cut off his hair with Hinata’s blade, making Hiashi scream in fury. The eighteen-year-old wound on his thigh spreads all over his body and he disintegrates into ashes.

Neji pressed his temples over and over again in an attempt to reawaken the Byakugan but it wouldn’t work. He begged for Tenten to stay with him, who was starting to lose consciousness. Yet she touched his face and told him that she loved him and as he whispered the words back, her body went limp. Neji slowly bent his forehead towards hers and his tear dropped onto her cheek.

Suddenly, a lavender glow encircled the room and the wound on her abdomen started to heal. He watched in awe as the enchantment faded, stunned by the power of his tears. Quickly shaking her, Tenten’s eyes slowly opened. Neji breathed her name and she slowly came back into consciousness, smiling and hitting on him, the same way they did when they first met. He laughed and without hesitation, kissed her.

Neji reclaimed his throne and he ruled the kingdom with his queen by his side, feeding the poor and treating animals right, living happily ever after.

[kittenshift-17]

18 (especially for Antonin) and 23 for Undisclosed Desires (I am the biiiiggest fan here:)) 8, 12 and 26 for you as a writer:)

18. Give a brief character description of your main characters.

Antonin Dolohov - I tend to imagine him as being in his late 40s or early 50s (think 48-55) for most of my fics, barring APU. Russian. Brunette. He has a thick beard, a heavy set brow, and dark eyes. He’s got a mean look to him - the kind of man you’d cross the street to avoid passing too close to, and the mean streak of a sly fox to match. Antonin’s got a temper. He finds excitement in charms and in learning about magic and how it can be manipulated. He has a penchant for inventing his own hexes and dark curses because he’s clever, and he’s mean, and he suffers more curisoity than conscience. For all that, he loves his mother, and his nieces and nephews, and would do any number of things to ensure their safety and happiness. 

He considers muggles to be beneath him by sheer merit of the fact that he can do magic, and they cannot, and he finds them tiresome and loathesome and dislikes their habit of attacking that which they cannot explain or understand. For this reason, he fell in with the Dark Lord and the other more zealous followers of his word - intent on ensuring those who had magic (thereby making them superior) would always be safe from those who did not. He is obsessive by nature, and he fixates on things he doesn’t understand until they makes sense to him. He likes to study them, be they the effects of a new piece of magic, or a certain witch who survived a certain curse that no one else ever survived before. This insatiable curiosity tends to get him in trouble and leaves him with certain quirks that tend to make people uncomfortable. Why is it that when scientists follow a creautre around it’s “observational study” but when he does it, everyone calls him a stalker? 

23.  What’s more important: characters or plot?

Characters, in my opinion. Plots are a dime a dozen, and even the most intricate, thinky, exciting plot can be completely destroyed by characters that are unlikeable or uninteresting. I don’t care about a plot to save the world if the girl doing the saving has all the personality of a wet sandwich. Characters are what make or break a novel. Even the cheesiest, most cliche plot can be passed off as readable if the characters are rich and deep and interesting. A bland heorine makes for a bland tale, but a vivacious one makes life worth living.

8.  When creating the characters for your WIP, what came first to you?

This is a difficult question because it’s rarely the characters that come to me first. When an idea comes to me, it’s a scene. A singular scene - usually far into a world that need constructing to even make sense. Often a romantic scene, or an action scene, or a snippet of banter is what pops into my mind first, and from there, characters are invented. They grow merely from Female/Male lead and love interest, into whatever they must become within the world I must pen for the sake of reaching that scene. Beyond a gender, and a need to reach that scene, very little about them is clear. Their motivations often come after their gender, and then their circumstances. 

Maybe a girl who’ll one day kill a king is the goal - all I’ve got is the scene of a facelss girl clutching a dagger to a man’s throat while a crown glitters upon his brow. From there, she needs a motivation. WHY does she kill the king? That’s where the circumstances come in. Is she impoverished and downtrodden, rising up against a terrible tyrant who has oppressed her people? Is she avenging a lost loced one, slain on his orders? Or is she the villain, slaying a king to claim power for herself, and the King the protagonist, assassinated for a terrible agenda. The circumstances of the girl and the king dictate where the plot might go, what kind of world I must build, and how the characters must be shaped and moulded to bring them to that point where the girl holds the dagger to the throat of the king. 

Things like appearance and name are usually the very last things that come to me. Naming, in particular, is a hellish nightmare because I’ve had the misfortune of meeting too many people with interesting names and heinous personalities.

12.  What part is the hardest to write in your WIP?

The ending. Until death, stories don’t end. They might not stay interesting, but until we die, our pages keep turning and our story runs on. I struggle to end stories because stories don’t really end until we’re all pushing up daisies. For me, this is the hardest part to write, and I find that when I try to tackle them, my mind tends to run off on tangents, and to throw up new ideas to make the plot more intricate to force myself to write on for these characters.

Additionally, endings are terrible because everything has already been done. A HEA is entirely too cliche, as is killing off the main character and/or their love interest, and having them turn evil is inevitable but we seek to avoid it where we can. People need stories to give them hope for something more than the hands they’re dealt; people often look to stories for guidance on how to proceed. It’s terribly poor form to end a story with “And they overcame the terrible villain and all was well... until the next villain rose up... and the next one after that... and the one after that, until finally, the protagonist said fuck it, and stepped into the shoes of the very tyrant they had overthrown because the only way to prevent more uprisings is if people fear you too much to try.”

It’s a terrible truth that slaying the dragon isn’t always the end of the troubles a world must face, and an exciting and terrifying tale to write one where instead, the brave knight must become as terrible as the dragon for the sake of keeping his world safe from all others, not realising that in doing so, he has become that which must be defeated. 

26.  What is the worst writing advice in your opinion?

“Show don’t tell”. 

I find this the most useless peice of writing advice I’ve ever been given because it neither shows, nor tells it’s meaning. Saying to someone, “show me a scene, don’t just tell me about it,” when all you have are words, is incredibly confusing for an aspriring author. What would be more apt would be to say:

“Make me feel it, don’t just tell me what happened.” 

And by that, I mean, “Make my heart break, as the protagonist’s heart breaks, when her mother is slain. Make me feel what she is feeling. Make me care about her mother as much as she does. Breathe enough life into her mother that when she dies, her death hurts me as a reader, just as much as it hurts the protagonist. Don’t just write: “And then her mother died. It was sad.”; give me the scene! Enthrall me with the way death rattles within the cage of her ribs, her dying breaths shallow and wet with blood as she struggles for just one more. Wound me with the limpness of her hair, sweat-soaked and damp with blood where it’s strewn across the pillow. Shock me with the starkness of crimson that is her blood staining white bedsheets, the life within her ebbing outward like a flower in bloom, unfolding it’s terrible petals. Utter to me her dying words, an elicitiment of a promise from our protagonist to go on, to find happiness, to Do The Thing (TM). Wrench my heart out of my chest and twist my guts in knots with the agony of losing her. Make me seek to set down my book and call my own mother just to hear her voice one more time, as your protagonist will never do again.  

“Show, don’t tell” is a disgustingly gutted simplification of the above, but to a new author, it might as well be gibberish. Writing is not an endeavour simply of putting words on paper. It’s something that comes from your soul. You must feel what your character feels if you want your readers to feel it too. It’s emotional, and messy and demands that you sacrifice facets of yourself to the tale to lend it a realism that otherwise is lacking. If your reader has not yet lived the heartache of losing a parent or a paramour, you must describe it in ways that will make them feel as though they have. You must make them care, make them feel, make them think, and make them hurt for them to understand what your protagonist is living and how it cripples them, or drives them to fiery vengeance. 

To write is to have a fundamental understanding of people and how they work, and how they think, and the ways they react to different circumstances in different ways. The girl above who’s going to kill the king, you see? Maybe she lost her mother on the King’s order. Maybe when that arrow pierced her mother’s heart, it bore the King’s fletch. Maybe the agony in her soul drove her to defy sanity and to laugh in the face of fear, her need for retribution burning up within her soul. Maybe her sister reacted differently; curled into a ball and sobbed, refusing food and drink, wasting away with her grief. Maybe the King did it for a good reason. Maybe the protagonist’s mother was a witch, harming the children of his kingdom. Maybe he was the hero, slaying the wicked witch, and now the wicked witch’s daughter is going to gut herself a king. Maybe she’s not the hero of the story, he is. Maybe, because I’ve given you the heart-wrenching agony of losing that mother even though she was a wicked witch, you’re on her side and think the king deserves it. 

You simply need to show me it and make me feel it. But without context - without explanation, without being show or told how to do those things, “show don’t tell” is as useful as describing astrophysics to a gerbil.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Caged Birds Don’t Sing -Chapter Two-

Note: The character that gets introduced in this chapter is NOT an OC. Just keep that in mind.

Chapter Two

The Night Owl and The Boogeyman

Sleep quickly became a hassle, and not just because of the new and very frequent nightmares. It hurt when Joan tried to lay on her back, so she spent at least an hour each night in bed just trying to get comfortable. When she would eventually fall asleep, she rested deep in a pit of terror.

Right now wasn’t one of those nights, unfortunately.

Joan sighed, looking across the room at her dresser. The room was bathed in the soft blue glow of her night light. After how she met her doom in her past life, she had a certain dislike of the dark. Or, rather, what’s in the dark. Not even her therapist could dispel that fear and paranoia…not yet. And she doubted she would ever be able to.

She closed her eyes, rolled over onto her back, and took in a long, deep breath. Then she opened her eyes, and her heart nearly stopped.

The room was pitch black.

The nightlight just went out. Breathe. Breathe.

Joan let out a muffled cry and covered her mouth. She breathed in deeply and then pulled her covers over her head.

She needed to get out of bed. She needed to get out of bed, and to cross the room, and to turn the light on. Or maybe run to one of her housemates. Maria or Maggie...

She couldn’t do it.

Fuck, she had to.

Joan took in a deep breath, and then pulled her blankets around her. She pulled one over her head like a hook and wrapped it about her neck and shoulders, let it drape in thick waves around her arms. Then she wrapped another around her legs, and made sure that each of her feet were fully enveloped in cloth.

Painfully, agonizingly, she slipped out of bed, ready at any moment for something to jump out under her bed and grab her. It didn’t matter whether she was a one-winged “survivor” or a hallucinating madwoman- her fears could hurt her, and she had the scars to prove it.

Nothing grabbed at her ankles. She took in a deep, slow breath, then shuffled unhappily to the side of her room. She kept her hands fully bundled in cloth as she reached out to feel for the light switch, and after a moment, she flicked it to the ‘on’ position.

Nothing happened. Joan gulped and leaned into the wall, shaking and covering her face with her blankets.

It’s okay, a fuse must have blown. Just go back to bed. You can wake up tomorrow with the dawn, and see to the fuse when it’s bright out. Maria can fix it. Nothing to worry about.

She had to shuffle back to bed, which was another nightmare, and she climbed tortuously back onto the open mattress. After a moment, she reached over to her nightstand. She had a lamp on it. She paused.

Do I really want to see the room, poorly illuminated, with shadows all over the place? I should just go to bed. I really just need to go to bed.

Soft, hissing noises rippled through the room.

Oh. My. God.

Joan lunged for her nightstand, nearly knocking it over as she turned on the lamp, but also grabbed it for protection. It came on with a burst of radiance, and she rolled onto her back, pointing both it furiously around the room.

Nothing. She peered under the bed, and then got up and stalked around her room, shedding her blankets in lieu of a stronger shield: force of will.

Nothing. Not on this side of her bed, not on that. Not under the dressers or in the wardrobe.

…I…I must have been hearing things, she reasoned. The trees groaning outside, maybe. Or the squirrels.

She took in a deep breath, and then slowly moved back to her nightstand. She righted it, and then tossed her blankets onto the bed and spread them around. She was shaking slightly.

I’ve got to calm down. I wasn’t this scared in the forest. Probably. I’m killing myself with these fears…

She laid back down on her bed and pulled her blankets up to her chin. After a moment, she arranged a blanket about her head, so it was covering her hair and the sides of her face, a psychologically protective shield against her nightmares. She set the lamp on the nightstand.

Breathe deep.

She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. A warm breeze tickled her chin.

What…?

Joan’s eyes popped open wide, and she twisted her head to the side. Her bedroom window wasn’t open. And it wasn’t warm outside... So how…?

She jerked as if to sit up, and something above her caught her sight.

A head stared down at her, several feet above her own. Bright eyes blinked as the huge body hung weightlessly from her ceiling, with its hands and feet pressed firmly against the smooth paint. It had no hand or foot holds, and was clearly defying gravity.

Joan screamed.

Then it screamed.

The creature fell from the ceiling with a heavy and loud thud and scampered backwards against her dresser, claws flapping and slapping in the air. Its ears perk up and antenna twitch before the door suddenly flung open.

“Joan?!”

Maggie burst into the room, worry bright in her eyes. Joan leapt towards her, feathers ruffled in distress.

“Maggie! Get out of here! You gotta-”

Joan’s frantic words died on her lips when she looked over her shoulder and saw that there was nothing there. She blinked in shock, completely dumbfounded.

“Joan...are you okay?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah,” Joan said, “Yeah. Yeah! I’m fine! I just...thought I saw something, that’s all! You can, um, go back to bed now.”

“Are you sure?” Maggie quirked a brow.

“Yes.”

“Well...alright. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!”

Joan shut the door and scanned her room before walking back to her bed. She was about to climb under the blankets when she heard a growl. At that, she lunges for the nightstand again, flicking on her lamp and also grabbing it for a weapon. The bulb came on with a burst of radiance, illuminating the figure hanging from the wall, shielding its bright blue bug eyes with one arm.

It was that WingEater from the shack, Joan realizes. Slowly, its arm lowered and it peeked over at the girl.

“You!” Joan cried, “What the hell- You-”

The monster growls harmlessly. It opens its mouth and a tongue slithered out, swirling around in the air.

“Stop that.” Joan snapped, “Why are you here? And before you ask- no, you can’t eat my other wing.”

The monster closed its mouth. Its antenna twitch around for a moment before it crawls up the wall and across the ceiling to get closer. The grey and black wings on its back fan in the air. That meant this thing has eaten someone.

“What do you want?” Joan asked in a softer, more fearful voice. She’s trembling, clutching onto her lamp and blankets tightly.

She couldn’t understand why this thing was here. She wanted to scream for her roommates because she felt safer with them, but she was afraid they would get attacked.

Why wasn’t it hurting her, though? Instead of getting a verbal answer when she asked the question, the WingEater hung downwards and began touching and picking things up from her dresser, even tasting a few items (which Joan yelled at it for).

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” The owl demanded, marching over and snatching away a pair of scissors that were about to be coated in monster saliva.

The beast blinked its eyes at her then picked up some lipstick. It began to scrawl something on the wall. A letter.

“B”

Joan swallowed hard. She didn’t know what was more frightening, the handwriting, which was so messy and smeared it would make a psychiatric patient proud, or the fact that this thing knew what letters were.

“Is...is that your...name? B...? Bee?”

The WingEater- Bee- reared its head back, blinked, then purred in response. It held out the lipstick to Joan, who recoiled backwards.

“Are you-” Joan faltered, “Are you visiting me?”

Bee’s wings flapped, which was probably a yes.

“But- but why? I don’t- I don’t understand...”

Joan is shaking hard. Bee notices. It tilts its head slowly, twitches, and then it’s gone.

The room is silent.

———

The next day, Joan goes to the library early that morning before work, desperate for answers. She had assumed it was all a dream, as the writing on her wall was gone, but then she noticed how her red lipstick was worn down.

Joan found a book on WingEaters on one of the shelves, checked it out, and began reading on her way to the theater:

WingEaters are large, bipedal carnivores that primarily prey on humans. When they eat someone’s wings, they gain an identical pair of their own.

In appearance, WingEaters can be ten to thirty feet tall, although some are able to alter their height. They walk on two legs but are also swift on all fours and can move around like that if they choose.

They can come in a variety of colors: Black, Blue-black, Indigo, Dark purple, Dark red, Scarlet, Cinnamon, Burnt orange, Bronze, Dull gold, Dark green, Chestnut, Charcoal grey, or Brown. Usually very dark shades.

Each finger and toe is tipped by a serrated, hooked claw, made for latching deep into skin. There’s a barb at the end of the tail. Antenna, horns, and pointed ears crown the head. Their eyes are bug-like.

Females have hackles on the backs of their necks, which males lack.

WingEaters only have wings if they have eaten a human. They can grow multiple sets, which make them much faster when it flight and more fearsome.

These monsters are very powerful, possessing special abilities and instincts to help fight. The ends of their tails can either inject a paralyzing nerve toxin or eject boiling acid. Some can grow retractable quills out from their backs, which vibrate and make horrendous buzzing noises. Their jaws are incredibly powerful, as are their claws, and they have heightened senses.

WingEaters live in a group called an “infestation” or “colony” and there is a special hierarchy to their civilization.

The Hive Queen- The largest WingEater in a colony. She is the queen and leader of the other WingEaters and is highly lethal when provoked.

Brood Mothers- Brood Mothers spend most of their lives breeding and laying eggs to expand the clutch. Despite usually being stationary, brood mothers are very dangerous if angered. They have been known to spit acid and lay eggs inside of humans.

Drones- The “hunters” of the colony. These WingEaters...

Joan read through the book, trying to find something, anything that’ll let her know why the WingEater- err...Bee- hadn’t attacked her. She scanned each paragraph, but couldn’t match anything to it.

Alpha? No.

Omega? No.

Nurse? No.

Worker? No.

Rogue? No.

Beta? No-

Wait.

Betas- These WingEaters are usually seen wearing strange garments. It was thought to be attached to their skin, but people have reported betas without the garbs. They wear them to highlight their butcher-like job in the colony. Betas are in charge of taking care of prey down in the chambers of the hive.

Bee had worn those weird clothes, meaning it must have been a beta. But that didn’t explain why it hadn’t been hostile towards Joan. She continued to read but found nothing else. No books ever spoke of a WingEater being passive or peaceful.

This just didn’t make any sense.

Joan sighed, toiling over the events in her head. She was so distracted that she accidentally bumped into someone and nearly dropped her book.

“Ow. Shit. I’m so sorry- Oh, hey, Cleves. Sorry about that.”

Cleves gave Joan a smile and brushed her wing against the girl’s arm.

“It’s no problem,” The red-winged blackbird said, “How are you feeling today? You look a little pale.”

Joan shrugged a little.

“Right now? Fine, I guess. I just got a lot on my mind. How are you?”

“Good! Ready to perform.” She chuckled lightly and Joan smiled a little, although it felt forced.

“I’m gonna go to bathroom real quick.”

The fledgling sidles away, shuffling towards the bathroom. While washing her face, there’s growling from behind. She froze.

“Bee?” She called out softly, kind of testing the name at the same time.

The monster responds with a chirp. It’s perched on one of the stall doors, head tilted like a puppy. Joan didn’t have to turn around to see it- the mirror’s reflection did that for her.

“If you’re in here, then does that make you a girl?”

Bee purred. So it was female, then. That would make sense, as it- she- had the hackles on the back of its- HER- neck.

She climbed down from her perch and looked at the door for a moment. Outside, crew members could be heard talking. Joan prayed one of them wouldn’t walk in and see the predator casually hanging out inside.

The WingEater growls. The anger was building as her wings stretched out, feathers sticking up in various directions. Her claws sunk into the cracks in the tile floor, chipping the plaster around her hands.

She was mad. But about what? About the crew? It’s like she could almost tell that some of them were jerks. But why would that anger her? Why would she care? Was she watching when they messed with her? Where had she been? Did she just not like people? But if that were the case, why wasn’t she attacking Joan? Was it something else?

Suddenly, she shrieks.

The beast swung her arms around, smashing mirrors and ripping up the tile. Her screeches and shrills were ear-splitting, practically shaking the walls as she destroyed the bathroom. She was in a frenzy and it terrified ajoqn, who was already backed up into one of the corners.

Eventually, Bee calmed down, breathing heavily, exhausted by her outburst.

“Are you done?” Joan’s voice came out shaky.

Bee looks at her and chuffed. She jumped up onto one of the sinks (or what was left of it), balancing perfectly on her haunches. Somehow, it didn’t completely crumble under her fourteen foot tall body.

“Listen to me,” Joan started softly, “You’re dangerous. If you ever do this,” She gestures to the mess, “to my wingmates or somebody I care about, I won’t be your friend anymore.”

That’s not the threat she wanted to say, but she didn’t think she could intimidate this deadly monster. Did she think of Bee as a friend, though?

Apparently the beast did, as she recoiled backwards, eyes bulging. He clicks and keens a few times before extending a clawed hand outwards. The owl jerks away.

“You take anyone away from me,” Joan warned her, “and you become nothing more than another fucking monster. Just like the one who ruined my life.”

The grasping hand froze. Bee pulled her arm back, staring for a long time. Then, she began fidgeting, visibly panicking. She gurgled and whines and bleated. After a few seconds, she was gone.

Just like the night before.

———

It was the dead of night when Joan bolts up in a cold sweat. She’s trembling violently, choking on her soft sobs. The bonds of her nightmare recedes but the gore continues to flash behind her eyes.

Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe. It wasn’t real. You’re safe. You’re okay. You’re- Breathe. Why can’t I breathe? Why can’t I breathe why can’t I breathe why can’t I-

Soft growling came from the darkness.

Joan froze, but a sob escaped her lips. She shakes harder, pulling her one wing closer to herself. A serrated claw touches her shoulder and she jerks away, cowering beneath her blankets.

Don’t touch me. Oh god. God god god god god-

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, gurgling, growling, purring. Bee appeared to be fussing over Joan’s head, like she was trying to figure out what to do. Her claws glide down the girl’s back, brush across the scar, and Joan flinches. She flinches, too.

The monster lowers herself down from the ceiling and onto the bed. She moves slowly, linking her arms around Joan’s middle in a strange embrace. Her tail curls around her, wings folding over her shoulders, easing her in closer.

When Joan began to cry a little, she nuzzled against her neck and purred in a soft, reassuring way. The beast was comforting her.

Slowly, Joan peeks her head out from under the blankets. Glowing blue eyes blink at her before the cuddling continued.

“You’re getting my covers all dirty.” She mumbled unhappily.

The grime and what was probably coagulated blood was rubbing off on her sheets. She shuddered and hot tears roll down her cheeks. She feels Bee shift a little and a talon raises up to try and wipe her eyes.

“I’m never going to get better...”

Joan was confiding to this creature in a way she couldn’t to anyone else, not even her sisters or wingmates or doctor. The pain and despair and vulnerability had built up so high- she was drowning in it. The owl chokes hard.

“I’m never going to sleep without nightmares. I’m never going to forget about what happened to me. I’ll never fly again, unless it’s in my own delusions. For the rest of my life I will be fighting against the temptation of my own insanity. And for what? I don’t know. It’s important to keep going, but I’m never going to get b-better...”

Her voice is tight with emotion and pain. Everything is a whirlwind of muddled feelings and suffering. Blood is roaring in her ears.

“I don’t work right anymore. I don’t know how to be happy. Sometimes I’m happy- when I’m playing music- but every other time I’m just miserable.” A quivering inhale, “I try. I really do, but nothing works. All my doctor does is dope me up on antidepressants until I can’t feel anymore, which is nice at first, but then it becomes painful. The numbness, I mean. I can’t- I can’t enjoy anything anymore.”

The fledgling weeps. Her fists clench and she carved bloody half-moons into her palms. She wanted to rip open her stitches, she wanted to tear out her feathers, she wanted to set herself ablaze because the pain was the only thing that made her feel again.

“I wish it never happened.” She grits out, like there’s sand lodged in her throat, “I wish it hadn’t been me. I know that’s selfish, but I just-“

She breaks down. Her trembling gets worse, as does the torment. She needed an anchor and she needed it now.

“If you’re going to be here- if you’re going to stay- then keep me safe. Please.”

There’s a firm growl in response. It relaxes Joan- she doesn’t know why.

When she closes her eyes, there’s less gore flashing around in the fuzzy darkness. A tongue gently licks away her tears, a soothing gesture to end this horrible night.

———

“Thank you.”

The monster coos. Bee is still there the next morning, which was a little risky, but Joan really appreciated it.

Joan climbed out of her bed and cringed. Her blankets were stained in some kind of dried up muck, thanks to Bee rubbing against them all night.

“You are filthy.”

Bee chirruped and tilted her head around. She rubbed her hand against her smock and gurgled in surprise when it came back all dirty. She wiped it off on the floor.

“Not on the carpet!”

The monster jumped a little and looked up at Joan. She wiggles her tongue at her and skitters onto the wall, bleating contently with her new friend.

“You’re such a cat, you know?” Joan chuckled, “Now, get down from there. You need a bath.”

The monster tilted her around.

“Yes, a bath. If you’re going to stay, you need to be clean. It’s a Saturday and my roommates are out, so let’s get to it!”

Joan began to wonder if, like a cat, she had an aversion to water.

Only one way to find out.

[wolf-with-no-pelt]

Alleliuah-Skye Maccon

The Important Bits

Names: Alleliuah-Skye Maccon. 

Previous Names: Alleliuah-Skye Faolán || Lady of Winter’s Thorns ||  Wolfheart

Deednames: None.

Species: Changeling (Beast Hunterheart) || Kinfolk: Get of Fenris/Fianna by Marriage

Birthday: Unknown (July 21)

Location: Three River Valley Sept

Appearance

Eye Color: Dark, bruise-violet.

Hair Color: Golden and wildly curled.

Skin Color: Tanned.

Fashion Sense: Old, worn and comfortable. Her husband’s shirt, a pair of tattered jeans and her old boots are her favorite outfit.

Tattoos: None.

Scars: The canvas of her frame is littered with a variety of scars, some ritual, some earned, some given. Ritual scars: Large wings spread over her back, while an eye is centered in between them, against her spine. What used to be a thorny vine wrapped around her left bicep, but has been since mangled. Against her right shoulder are claw marks. On the left between the joint and her collarbone is an open triquetra. Around her navel is a crescent moon connected to a half sun with wandering rays. A Black Spiral Dancer once carved his name into her lower back, but that has been since burnt and healed off.

Mien: That golden hair of hers seems to be all the more wild and crazed, bristling with a life all its own. There are eyes hidden in her hair, that allow her to see all around her, as a manifestation of her paranoia. Her eyes are the bright amber of a wolf's, and her canines are enlarged, and she has sharp nails and pointed ears. Her scars remain.

Personality: Alleliuah is a quiet woman, but violent. Quiet only when things are calm, but at the blink of an eye, her temper can take over. Constantly swimming in the mire of a world she barely knows, PTSD and memories, along with the clean cut demand for survival, she has no qualms jumping into the thick of battle. Conversely, she's not great at showing her affection, but she will sacrifice herself without a thought for her loved ones.

Weapons: 

A war hammer forged by Gideon "Smiles-Until-Dawn" Sawyer of iron, oak and the bones of her fallen brothers, which has been imbued with Nymph magicks by Verena Ironbourn for maximum impact. 

She also wields a broadsword, originally Gideon's that she has recently discovered has the magick of flames embedded within the metal.

A Shadow Lord Fang Dagger.

A Skin-Dancer’s skinning knife

Dragon-Piercer, a Grand-Klaive Fetish previously owned by Wilhelm

Likes: 

Cherries

Macarons

Blackwater Whiskey

Wood Carving

Relaxing in her Hammock

Blacksmithing

Dislikes: 

Heat

Winter

Being Belittled

Slavery

Relationships

Current Lover: Rory “Red Hill” Maccon {Husband}

Former Lovers: Kael, The Lord of Winter’s Thorns  ||  Kana

Family: 

Wilhelm "Thunder-Howler" Faolán (Adopted Brother {Deceased}) 

Nelly Faolán (Sister-in-law) 

Kylar & Desmond Faolán (Nephews)

Duncan Deathbearer (Adopted nephew/packmate)

Arlene Iceheart (packmate)

Painted-Eyes (packmate {Deceased})

Speaker-of-Kings (packmate {Deceased})

Sees-Only-Blood (Adopted son) 

Fjord Maccon (Son {Deceased})

Friends: 

Kolina "Bloodsinger" Forepaw 

Mina Hudson 

Maximus "Rises From White Flames" Bloodwalker

Nadya "Luna's Claw Striking to Darkness" Aleksandra 

Gideon "Smiles Until Dawn" Sawyer {Deceased}

Mentor: Siv “Witchhunter” Kramer

Enemy: 

Tamaris

Kael, The Lord of Winter’s Thorns 

Eolian 

Ramiro  

Adam Haupt

The Story

Alleliuah was born on Hellifyno, in the mountainous region of the Northern Continent as the product of bastardized creatures. From the spoiled breeding of Fenrir wolves, and Fae magicks came a kinfolk with gnosis. This oddity led to the interest of the Lord of Winter’s Thorns, who took her as a Bride & Hunter. Over the years, her memory of her homeland was reduced to dim recollection.

Alleliuah's bizarre existence and bloodline from the Hand of Tyr, as well as being blessed by Gnosis made her attractive to the Lord. She became his wife and personal guard dog who accompanied him on hunts and was sent with a partner, Kana, from time to time to track down prized Changelings that had yet to get through the Hedge. He also enjoyed setting his dogs and changelings to fight in The Furnace during full moons. 

Occasionally, Alleliuah was kept in a cage with the other beasts, but often slept beside her husband. Like all Fae, he ran hot and cold and would often punish her, or simply neglect her. 

It was during one of these periods when she managed to make her escape. Tracking down a Changeling with Kana, who had fled, they were attacked by the woman. Alleliuah fell into a frozen river when it cracked, and was sucked below the ice. A great Leviathan of a Beast guarded a Hedge Gate hidden under the Glaeyze River, and it was pure luck that Alleliuah managed to get through.

FURTHER STORY

Centuries ago, Beowulf defeated Grendal and was crowned. But the life of luxury for the Fenrir was not in his interests. He began to seek out other monsters to slay. His Court's Mage located a powerful artifact in the midst of this, held by an incredibly powerful Fae. They managed to make it to Arcadia, but found themselves fighting a losing battle.

Some managed to stumble out of the Hedge on sheer accident, making their home in the mountains of the Northern Continent. Others, did not. Over time, they were pursued and forced to breed, and became warped by the magicks of Arcadia. As the decades and centuries wore on, they grew to be pale shades of what they once were. Limited to a single form, an archaic, garbled form of the garou tongue and loyal to an absolute fault. Hardy, relentless and violent. Those that did not make the cut, were left to roam. Those that did, were the Hounds of the Wild Hunt. The Lord of Winter's Thorns had been raising these wolves to fill in the ranks of his hunting packs, as well as his own personal Wild Hunt for changelings that escaped him.

The Lord of Winter's Thorns was a True Fae that had been corrupted over the years by a tainted circlet once created by the Bastet to mimic the Silver Fang crown. It had given him dreams and visions over the years, culminating to a War where Wyrm hopes to destroy the Garou that have arrived.

Contracts: 

Beast's Blessing: She has a supernatural affinity with wolves, and has a powerful personal magnetism about her.

Hunterheart Blessing: Her teeth and nails are far stronger than a mortal's and can deliver lethal damage.

Relentless Endurance: She can take grievous amounts of damage, but sequester the pain to the back of her mind and ignore it. Once the scene is over however, it comes back.

Lady Luck: Good fortune seems to follow her. However, usage of this Contract invites terrible consequences.

Trespasser's Spoor: Once the changeling writes their name on the entrance in chalk and blood, they may sense any threats that enter their territory.

Wildwalker: After sleeping outdoors, a changeling can freely move through nature with no obstacles.

Beast's Keen Senses: If the changeling touches an animal-type of their contract, they acquire the senses of that animal.

Nevertread: By stopping to cover a single footprint and expending the Glamour, all of her footsteps from there on until the Contract ends, will be obscured. Only supernatural means will be able to track her path. As a Beast, she can extend this coverage to benefit those that travel with her. Even when the Contract has ended, the footsteps that were covered, will remain covered.

Might of the Terrible Brute: The changeling drains her opponent's strength to boost her own.

Red Revenge: By calling out to all of the hatred and misery in the world, she can summon her wrath like an aura. Her skin blisters and splits, and blood surrounds her in a haze. It acts like an armor, moves quicker and incites fear in the opponent. It causes her to go berserk.

Trusty Blades: The changeling cannot be easily disarmed, and rearming or drawing blades is done reflexively.

Song of Flashing Steel: By using this clause, the changeling calls to her hand a weapon with which she is familiar that is in line of sight (or in the same world by expending Willpower). The blade will avoid all obstacles in its path there, bar solid barriers.

Gifts:

Ice Echo: She can conjure a perfect reflection of herself. The image is identical to the her, except that it is reversed, as though seen in a mirror (so any writing on her clothing would be backwards, scars would be on the wrong side, etc.) She can control the image easily, giving it voice and guiding its motion. Taught by the Wendigo lupus ancestor spirit, Little - Bear.

Howl of the Banshee: The werewolf emits a fearful howl that causes those who hear it to run in terror. A Banshee —  a mournful spirit of the dead — teaches this Gift.

Speech of the World: This Gift allows Gaia’s warriors to read and wield the spirit of speech, bypassing the need to learn different languages and dialects. The Garou may speak and understand any human language she encounters, though she speaks with an obvious accent, marking her as an outsider. Speech of the World doesn’t convey literacy, nor is it an encyclopedia of cultural information. An ancestor-spirit teaches this Gift.

Rite of the Hunting Ground: Lupus Garou mark their territory by urinating on trees and bushes. After the rite, no wolf or Garou can come into the area without immediately realizing they have entered another's territory. There is no compunction not to enter, however. Typically, the Garou must spend an hour marking her territory. Special messages, such as a greeting to other Garou, can be left as well.

Voice of the Jackal: This rite is performed when a Garou's behavior has shamed not just herself, but her entire sept or tribe. When the ritemaster performs this rite, he blows a handful of dust or ashes onto the offender and speaks the following: "Because thy (cowardice/gluttony/selfishness/etc.) has proved thee to be of jackal blood, let thy voice proclaim thy true breed!" As the dust and words envelop the punished Garou, her voice changes. Thereafter, she will speak in an annoying shrill and piercing nasal whine until the ritemaster repeals the punishment.

Aesthetics

Playlist

Roralle Ship Playlist

Pinterest 

Roralle Pinterest

Quote: Aut viam inveniam aut faciam. If I cannot find a way, I will make one.

[occasional-darksides-doodles]

Hells Cross Academy: Sanders sides AU

Hells Cross Academy is a school for the supernatural to go, whether it be demons, demigods, wolves, woodnyphs, elf's, or the undead, if your supernatural that's your one stop shop for education.

The giant castle is on the end of Hells Cross Valley, Connected to Cross Counter City. The school receives a significant amount of funding every year, and will continue to get more with the increasing halfling population.

In Hells Cross we have many classes such as potion making, magic, dark arts, science, arts, theater, computing, game design, English, Japanese, draconic, demonic, elvish, lycancy study, and may other wonderful programs.

Students from all around the globe and in the globe travel to the school for top notch education.

Our dorms are always in pristine conditions for both teachers and students to use! Dorms can hold up to 9 in a small community housing like room, as each room is about the size of a 4 bedroom apartment, and sharing is recommended by staff so the children may make friends with each other.

The communal dorm housing room has 2 bathrooms, 1 open space kitchen, 1 living area, 4 bedrooms with 2 inbuilt study areas and large walk in robes, and a storage room for those who may need it, such as witches and sorcerers.

Hells Cross Academy has a relaxed uniform policy while on school grounds, but the uniform is recommend for those who may be taking the built in train system to Cross Counter City or Hells Cross Valley.

Potion material collection is between 5-9 pm, those who wish to go at a custom time or early morning please speak with madam dragon witch, as she will accompany a small group out. Those who sneak out past curfew (half an hour past midnight) will be punished and put under house arrest.

The cafeteria is open from 4 am till 10 minutes before curfew, and custom orders are open. Please use your student allowance to buy food, and if you are having trouble please speak to some of our staff.

Your student allowance is 2000 a month, which is used for everything, from food to clothes to travel to replacing broken supplies. Students in the technology, fashion, theater, arts, music, and outer knowledge language departments shall be granted and extra 1000 if needed. Please use your allowance wisely.

If you run out of money there are many jobs you can get at Cross Counter City and you will be granted extra help for being a student at Hells Cross Academy.

If you have any remaining questions about your time here at our school please contact principal Thomas J. Sanders or Madam Draconia Wither (Dragon Witch). Thank you for your time and enjoy your education at Hells Cross Academy.

Orientation is mandatory and in 5 days (Monday).

- Principal Thomas J. Sanders & Vice principal Tallen Kat

Characters

Virgil Blackwitch

She is the so called "Princess of Hells Cross High", a genderfluid shape shifter who loves causing mischief and slacking off. She changes his gender whenever they feel like it. Child of the queen of Hell, Lucifer. There father is a shape shifter so he is a half shape shifter. He always wears his crown due to missing home, but plays it off as showing off his power. After an encounter with Roman prince (see below) Virgil tends to stay far away from him. (I'll be drawing him when he feels like a boy as well don't worry)

Age: 16

Gender: genderfluid

Sexually: questioning

Team: Aspect

Likes: friends, spiders, mischief, hot coco.

Dislikes: Prince Pain! Studying, getting in trouble or caught causing trouble.

Proficiencies: most magic (black specifically), potion making, shape shifting, witch craft.

Familiar: spider named Charles.

Weapon: grim reaper scythe (a gift from his mother).

Patton heart

Patton heart is the son of the grim reaper and is half human half reaper. He is best friends with Virgil and Logan. He puts on a nonthreatening appearance so people won't be so afraid of him. He is next in line in his family to be the grim reaper even though he doesn't want to, and is trying to make friends and enjoy life while he's here. He and Virgil have known each other since they where kids and there family is very close, they are best friends and Patton has a crush on Virgil. (normally wears a white hooded cape with a heart on the back, also he's covered in freckles but the app doesn't have a freckle option)

Age: 16

Gender: male

Sexually: panromantic ace

Team: Aspect

Likes: helping people, colorful band aids, Virgil, friends

Dislikes: mean people, accidentally hurting people, spiders

Proficiencies: hand to hand combat, black, magic, social skills, most languages, animal communication

Familiar: a cat named purrline, a little ghost who's watching over Patton (sent by his father)

Weapon: family scythe, has a needle in his backpack he also uses.

Roman prince

Roman is a celestial demi-god, his father is a half human half witch, while his mother is a celestial goddess. He came to the school on his parents request, and wants to marry Virgil, whom he believes is the person he's destined to marry from a prophecy he was told as a child. The prophecy in question was one where a heroic demi god born from the celestial goddess would join the sky's above and the depths below by defeating the evil prince born from the queen of hell with love, joining the two kingdoms in a peace treaty. He's very certain that Virgil is the one from the prophecy (and totally not because Virgil is super cute or anything nahhh). Hes very heroic and strong headed so he tends to act before thinking (ie. Proposing to Virgil in the middle of the hallway). He and the dragon witch do not get along to a point where its almost comical to watch them argue. His halo is actually a color humans and non celestial beings can't comprehend, thus it looks blue in the day and yellow at night, and it always glows. He wears his hair in a high bun (his hair goes a little past his shoulders when down).

Age: 17

Gender: bigender (agender and male)

Sexually: questioning

Team: Aspect

Likes: Virgil ♡, astrology, acting, singing, friends

Dislikes: being ignored, violence, spiders, the Dragon Witch!

Proficiencies: hand to hand combat, mele and sword fighting, white and light magic, astrology, all languages, most creative classes and skills.

Familiar: poko the pup (he changes from household pet to ferocious monster when need be)

Weapon: hero's sword (it's a regular sword he's had since he was a kid)

Logan Crofter

Logan Crofter is half woodnymph half wearwolf (part witch). his mother is a woodnymph and his father is a half-witch infected with lycanthropy. nobody knew logans father had lycanthropy, not even Logan's father, and they didn't find out until Logan's mother was already pregnant. Logan didnt show signs of lycanthropy until age 12, when he grew ears and a tail over the course of a week. he has a crush on patton. Flowers grow from his hair and tail when he's emotional. He covers the scratch marks on his cheeks with bandaids Patton gives him. He hates most magic and supernatural courses. He sticks around his roommates because there the only people he really knows. He's anti social and has autism (aspergers).

Age: 15 (3 months off becoming 16)

Gender: questioning (thinking demi boy or trigender)

Sexually: homoromantic demisexual

Team: Aspect

likes: science, astronomy, plants, reading, Patton, some potion making.

Dislikes: loud noise, weed killer, cages, full moons, magic class

Proficiencies: english, maths, computing, literacy, gardening, animal communication, animal handling, beast training, witch craft.

Familiar: none

Weapon: his claws, plant life, or offensive magic (witch craft)

Dolion Viper

Dolion Viper is the son of Dolos, his mother is a naga. He likes the others a lot. He doesn't like to mention the fact he's a demigod since he doesn't want people to be scared of him. He's not very social and sticks to the others. Most people call him Deceit since nobody but the group knows his real name. He tends to let his pet python penny rest around his shoulders when he goes out and is very rarely seen without her. He has a slight lisp when pronouncing the letter S, and gets embarrassed by it. His snake tail moves to convey how he's feeling, and he can use it like an extra arm. He has pointed elf like ears but he tends to wear a cat ear shaped beanie to hide them. He has a crush on everyone in the group and struggles to hide it, half of them know already. He wears his hair in a little pony tail.

Age: 17

Gender: gender fluid

Sexually: gay

Team: Esper (later moved to Aspect)

Likes: snakes, nature, painting, acting, friends, the others ♡

Dislikes: rude people, stereotypes, maths, cold weather

Proficiencies: animal handling, animal communication, beast training, dark arts, black magic, most creative classes and skills.

Familar: fox named Vixen, a 1'5 ft python named penny.

Weapon: multiple magical scissors, his tome.

Remy Paralax

Remy Paralax is a half alicorn sandman. He likes manipulating peoples dreams and causing mischif. he can use magic from his horn and can manipulate/sit and sleep on clouds. he doesnt like when people pull on his tail or hair (especially his ponytail) and will try to smack you. His stomach, legs (knee's down), and random patches around his body are a soft lavender. He tends to hang out in the city more then on the school grounds, and despite never going through his school allowance, works at a coffee shop called madam espresso, he gets paid in free coffee. He likes Virgil's attitude and tends to hang around him. Alot of people refer to Remy as Virgil's lacky, despite Virgil absolutely despising that term since Remy is one of his best friends. He's pretty efficient with a bat and has a nasty hit if he manages to hit you, most of the time he'll knock your head off.

Age: 17

Gender: trigender (male, female, agender)

Sexually: pan

Team: currently waiting to be assigned one

Likes: coffee, starbucks, sleeping, dreams, mischif

Dislikes: being woken up, daylight, yelling, spicy things

Proficiencies: physical combat, hand to hand combat, mele combat, baseball, white magic, weather patterns, cooking, drawing, animal handling, animal communication, beast taming.

Familiar: enchanti the giant rabbit (sent by his mother to keep him out of trouble)

Weapon: baseball bat

Emilie Pacini

Emilie Pacini is a unrestable spirit currently possesing a life sized doll. they love femmine clothing and lean more to the femminie side of the gender spectrum. Emilie isnt much of a fighter and as such only has magic to defend herself. he can posses other people with consent. He is on a waiting list to get a human body of a recently deceased, but its difficult because he's so young. He still ages (like all permanent spirits) and constantly has to modify the doll whenever he feels like she's supposed to grow, cut hair, adjust weight ect. But because of the limitations of the doll they can't be there actual weight, which tends to depress him slightly. She's training to become a nurse and knows a phenomenal amount of healing, calming, soothing, sleeping, ect. Magic, but knows very little combat magic. Absolutely hates people making fun of his appearance.

Age: 15 (16 in 1 month)

Gender: genderfluid (feels bigender male and female most of the time)

Sexuality: demisexual

Team: Esper (later moved to Aspect)

Likes: soft toys, disney, cartoons, puppets, friends

Dislikes: fire, sharp objects, salt, holy water, yelling

Proficiencies: white magic, healing magic, calming magic, music, woodwork/doll crafting, craft in general, medicine, psychology, biology, science, potion/medicine making.

Familiar: none

Weapon: none, uses magic to defend herself

[personaehq]

INCOMING MESSAGE …

FULL NAME: shiwoo “maverick” moon ALIAS: mav DATE OF BIRTH: 2114/07/24 ALIGNMENT: neutral OCCUPATION: ceo of ishikawa telecommunications AFFILIATION: n/a ACCOMMODATION: a residential floor on ishikawa hq FACECLAIM: byun baekhyun

ACCESSING: BACKGROUND …

Second born son doesn’t quite have that ring to it. Afterthought, spare, lagniappe– how can Maverick compare to his brother, the eldest spoiled and fattened by the prime cut of their parents attention? ‘Luck of the draw.’ His brother was dealt the winning hand simply by being born first.

But Maverick is practical. Inevitability is bullshit, and fate is malleable under enough pressure from money, connections, and a knife to the throat of a man’s reputation.

YOUTH +

Maverick was nurtured in a gilded cage. As a boy his leash hardly extended past the four walls of his home, a pale, little ghost pattering between the white walls, dress shoes on the cool marble flooring. After all– conventional schools (no matter how prestigious) would never suit the son of a Moon. “They’re dirty,” his mother complained. “You don’t know what those other boys bring in. You’ll get sick.” His father’s concerns were less tangible. He wanted to spoon feed his sons his own ideals, keep them from the radical ideas of the masses. Equalitywas an ugly word.

And Maverick was a pretty little boy (he took after his mother). Well-behaved and willing to please. He sat with his spine straight while his tutors filtered through his home, buttoned up in neatly ironed, white uniforms, black shoes. But it wasn’t all work, no play. Several times a week he was allowed to interact with other boys his age, handpicked by his mother from their same social class. Maverick was boisterous and bossy. A little bit of a bully, as his playmates ducked their heads and allowed him to lead (lambs thrown to a lions whims). Unlike his brother, Maverick was pushed to dabble in the arts– singing lessons, painting classes, the violin. During his parents parties his mother would demand he sing for the guests, his light and airy tenor receiving praise, applause, attention that would be diverted as soon as his brother was paraded out to the crowd.

Maverick was a novelty. A party trick. The opening act before the main show, and even as a boy the love he had for his brother was tainted by envy, hIs affection for his parents polluted by resentment.

The only pure, unwavering and undiluted love he held was for an object that had no choice but to adore him, to put him first.

On his ninth birthday Maverick received a gift from his parents. A DHC android, custom ordered and beautiful, created to love and nurture and raise him. The android was a catalyst his parents didn’t expect. The DHC cracked the walls of an otherwise jaded and cynical boy. Maverick softened under that gentle, doting affection, and when he misbehaved his parent’s learned that he was easily tamed by abruptly tearing the android away from him. The separation led to quick correction of his behavior. The android was Maverick’s very own whipping boy, and it wasn’t that he was trained to be docile. Maverick just learned to hide his flaws. It improved his capability for bullshit– manipulating staff, his family, his brother whenever the opportunity presented itself. The android taught Maverick love (synthetic but pure), but it also trained Maverick in the necessity of vicious and selfish ruthlessness in order to keep what mattered to him the most.

ADULTHOOD +

His parents allowed him to earn a college education abroad. He traveled to Cambrige for Business Law while his brother remained trapped in their gilded cage in Japan, wings clipped and always within reach of their parents. It was one of the few perks he was allowed as the spare, and he thrived away from his parents overbearing shadow. His android, now outdated and a hybrid of cobbled together old and new tech, was ever present at his side. Maverick drank heavily and parted the legs of both men and women. He pursed his lips and blew smoke rings of nicotine and cannabis out the window of his flat. And it was a testament to his innate cleverness that even while glutted full of everything life away from his family had to offer– Maverick graduated with honors. But he wasn’t ready to go home with a bachelors. He stayed for his masters, one more year of freedom. Now his brother was the one who envied, forced to watch Maverick shine in their parent’s regard.

When Maverick returned home– a well-educated lawyer with established international connections– his brother worried. Good, he should, because while Maverick played at tame, his brother’s concern wasn’t misplaced. Time away in a foreign country and among peers that jostled for his time and attention had fed Mavericks ego and inflated his self-worth. His brother with his late nights of liquor and warm bodies had his diploma practically bought, while Maverick earned his own. And, ah– he couldn’t resist. Maverick fed his brother’s paranoia by building connections with the children from other companies. Always with honeyed words, generous with money and promises (‘i’ll see if i can make it happen’). He and his brother began to fight in private– vicious, often turning physical. One evening his brother brutally beat down his android, nearly destroying it, and that was the turning point of Maverick’s ambition. Instead of being hindered by love, it was finally fueled by enough simmering hate to take what he wanted.

Maverick machinated his brother’s downfall. It started with hallucinogen drugs planted in his brother’s food while in a popular restaurant, leading to a public breakdown caught on camera (too many witnesses to smother the story). They took his brother to the closest hospital and Maverick was prepared– several of the staff already paid off to manipulate the medical records to correspond with a mental break.

The crown toppled off his brother’s head. It looked better on him anyway.

PRESENT+  

After two years of spearheading Ishikawa Telecomm, Maverick has grown comfortable. The whispers of media manipulation don’t bother him. It’s business, baby–and information is a formidable weapon that Maverick is willing to sell to the highest bidder. Fuhen Beauty and Yoriyoi Kenko Pharmaceuticals are his closest business partners, though he’s not above playing nice with government officials so long as they’re willing to pay forward with some favors.

Maverick is ambivalent to the plight of androids (only emotionally attached to a particular one). For Maverick– an android’s worth is measured in revenue. He’ll look after the well-being of KAIROS and MANIA, but he holds no real sentimentality towards the masses of other androids.

Ultimately– Maverick will cater to the narrative of the side he feels will benefit him the most. May the highest bidder win.

ACCESSING: PERSONALITY …

POSITIVE TRAITS: glamorous, charismatic, ingenious NEGATIVE TRAITS: cutthroat, scheming, detached

He has this knack for demanding and holding attention in a crowd– powerful voice, brilliant smile, quick to laugh and an effervescent personality that’s easy to swallow. He’s deft at carefully handling controversial topics when cornered, but he’d much rather talk business, or perhaps talk about you, darling. He makes his targets feel important. He validates them with an almost intense focus that makes them feel like they’re the most important people in the room, and there’s no place he’d rather be but here, with them, and it’s miserable to be parted. He’s known to be more doting and generous with gifts than he is with physical affection. He notoriously shies from touch– to the extent of wearing gloves in public when forced to interact with the lower classes.

That is the Maverick in public and parties. The Maverick in the boardroom is another creature entirely.

Morality is never invited to the same table as profits. If Ishikawa Telecomm pushes a narrative that feeds sympathy for a side? They paid more than the competition. Money talks, and perhaps to most this makes him immoral. The word Maverick prefers to sell is ‘practical.’ It shines better in the light.

While Maverick plays up the role of perfect bachelor out of an innate need to be desired, wanted, needed– Maverick dislikes being touched unless it’s on his own terms. He only tolerates physical intimacy from select friends and close family.

He pays good money to maintain his visage of superiority– tailored suits, styled hair, perfectly catered words. It’s solely in private, in the company of his android that Maverick’s walls ease down. Humans are terribly unpredictable after all, and Maverick is well-aware even family can’t be trusted. Unwavering love and loyalty, however synthetic and programmed, has been the only reliable thing Maverick’s had since he first eased the android from the wrapping and ribbon wrapped around it’s neck.

... END OF MESSAGE.

[msminutes]

[𝟐]

Odin's face contorts into one of somewhat neutral, but has a hint of concern. "Frost Giants." Odin states.

———

ODIN slams down Gungir, prompting the Destroyer to be released into the All-father's vault. The Destroyer kills the Frost Giants that dared to enter the vault as Loki, Arselia, Thor, and Odin all make their way towards it. Anger flows through Thor's veins as he stomps towards the vault. Why must the Frost Giants ruin his coronation? How were they able to get past Heimdall's watchful eyes? And lastly, how many different ways am I going to get revenge upon them for trying to attack Asgard? These questions lingered in his mind as the blonde-haired God followed his father's lead.

Loki knew that his plan worked and he was able to stop the coronation, though a hint a regret and guilt grew within the pit of his stomach. As they go throughout the corridors of the golden palace Arselia eyes Loki suspiciously. There is something that he is not telling her, she can sense it. She feels the guilt that is building up within him, just as he can sense the anger within her forming from him keeping this secret. He never liked lying to Arselia, she was one of the two people he hated lying to. The other was of course his mother. He couldn't stand lying to the two most important women in his life, but if he was to get what he wanted, he had to.

The group of four make it to the vault with Odin in the front, his two sons behind him, and Arselia behind them. The Destroyer goes back into its cage as the Asgardians make there way to what the Frost Giants seemed to come for. As they walk, they see the dead bodies of the guards that attempted to keep the vault safe. Thor's blood boils, but Arselia and Loki stay neutral being that they can care less about people who managed to fail to do their jobs.

"The Jotuns must pay for what they've done." Thor states angrily. "They have paid with their lives." Odin claims as he examines the Casket of Ancient Winters. A relic that could easily turn an entire world into an icy terrain. The chilling breeze left behind by the Frost Giants sends chills up the goddess' spine, as the wind blows through her midnight hair. "The Destroyer did it's work. The Casket is safe and all is well." Thor looks at his father in disbelief. "All is well? They broke into the weapons vault. If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics-" Odin cuts his son off. "They didn't." "Well I want to know why!" The mischievous soul bond glance between the father and son duo as they talk. Arselia sends Loki an uneasy glance and speaks to him in his mind. "You're hiding something." Loki spares a quick glance at his soul bond, but continues to say nothing. "I know that this incident isn't only caused from the Frost Giants, there is something more to it. I have a strong feeling you know what that something is. Don't you, Loki?" Arselia watches as he gulps, but leaves their conversation at that, for now.

"I have a truce with Laufey, king of the Jotuns." "He just broke your truce! They know you are vulnerable." Odin turns to face his enraged son. "What action would you take?" "March into Jotunheim, as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they'll never try to cross our borders again." The warrior goddess rolls her eyes at the god's idea. He wishes to break down the spirits of the Jotuns, but fails to realize in doing so would cause a catastrophic war. "You're thinking only as a warrior." "This was an act of war!" "It was the act of but a few, doomed to fail." Arselia's gaze goes momentarily to Loki, but returns back to the father and son arguing. "Look how far they got!" "We will find the breach in our defenses and it will be sealed." "As king of Asgard-" "BUT YOUR'E NOT KING!" Odin cuts his son off after finally losing his temper. An uncomfortable silence fills the room and a look of hurt crosses over the God of Thunder's face. "Not yet." Odin says before finally walking away. Loki and Arselia look to each other, then Thor. They decide it was better to leave him alone momentarily, so they follow the All-Father out.

The God and Goddess of Mischief and Lies make their way throughout the palace with bowes and curtsies from the servants directed towards them. A gentle wind blows through the air as the sun peaks through the windows of the corridors. The pair finally turn down an empty corridor and Arselia takes it as a chance to hold a dagger up to Loki's throat, and push him against the wall. "Start talking." The angry goddess states. "Kinky." Loki says with his infamous mischievous smirk. "Do I look to be in a gaming mood, brother?" Loki looks anywhere but at Arselia as she continues to hold her dagger up his throat. The hallway fills with the sounds of distant echoes from servants and workers walking about in the palace. The raven-haired goddess keeps her intense gaze upon her soul bond as he slowly raises his hands in defeat.

"I strongly dislike how I never manage to fool you." "What have you done, Loki?" He sighs as Arselia retracts her blade. "I merely stopped my oaf of a brother from becoming a king and destroying the Nine Realms." Arselia gave her soul bond an incredulous look and Loki sighs once more. "You are correct. I did help the Frost Giants into Asgard." "I knew that part already, but how did you do it? How did they even step foot into our territory without Heimdall seeing them?" A small smile forms on the mischievous god's face. "There are secret paths throughout the realms that not even Heimdall can see. I simply opened one of those paths and that lured the Frost Giants to go to father's vault and attempt to get the Casket of Ancient Winters. It is not my fault they fell for the bait that I left them." "There is more to the story than your silver tongue lets on." Loki rolls his eyes. He knows that it would probably be better to just tell her, rather than her forcing it out of him. If she tells the All-Father, then he would know where her loyalty truly lies. "I did it as I said before to stop Thor's coronation. You saw how he acted in the vault, ready to strike up a battle at any given moment. He is not prepared to become King. By doing this, maybe father will see that I'm more qualified for the position of king. Maybe...maybe he'll see my true potential." Loki states teary-eyed.

Arselia looks to her soul bond with soft eyes, but a smirk forms on her face. "What are you thinking?" Loki asks as he can sense a mischievous feeling develop within the goddess. "Is there anyway I can join in this little plan of yours?" The duo smirk at each other menacingly.

《♛》《♛》《♛》

Thor angrily enters the room in which the feast for his coronation was meant to be held. He pushes two workers that were cleaning a table out of the way, and proceeds to flip the table over with a loud roar. The God and Goddess of Mischief watch from the shadows of the room as the Warriors Three and Lady Sif enter to check on their friend. "Redecorating are we?" Lady Sif asks sarcastically. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif banter as Thor goes to sit on the steps of the room. Arselia and Loki come up from behind Thor and catches his gaze.  "It is unwise to be in my company right now, brother and sister." The duo sits on either side of Thor, upon the stairs. "Who said I was wise?" Loki asks. "And when do we ever listen to you?" Arselia chimes in. "This was to be my day of triumph." The angered god states. "It'll come. In time."

Loki and Arselia make eye contact, before Loki goes to whisper to Thor. "If it's any consolation, I think you're right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything." Arselia leans over to Thor and adds on to what Loki says. "If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defenses once who's to say they won't try again? Next time with an army." "Exactly." Thor agrees. "There's nothing you can do without defying father." Loki adds. The soul bond knew exactly what they were doing. They would provoke the blonde-haired god until he finally snapped. Once he did, Odin would see that he is not fit for ruling and would make Loki the first in line for the throne. With Loki on the throne he would select Arselia to be his queen and rule with him, therefore her spot on the throne was sealed and there would be no competition between her and Sif. Was she jealous of Sif? No, but she wanted to make sure nothing came between her and the crown. Sif is an excellent warrior along with a good leader. She would be fit for the position of queen just as Arselia is. Loki and Arselia wouldn't marry out of love, but out of power. Yes they love each other, but not in the romantic way. Arselia wouldn't dare to fall in love again. The first time she did, he was stripped away from her. They were stripped away from her. She never wants to feel the pain of losing the one that holds her heart again, hence the reasoning why she refuses to let her walls down and why it's easier for her to fake happiness rather than allowing herself to truly express her emotions.

Thor looks over to Arselia, then over to Loki. The pair knew that look too well. The look of a warrior hungry for a battle. "No, no, no. I know that look." Loki says frantically. "This is why I've given you the name of trouble because you're always ready to cause it." Arselia says as she stands. "That's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders." The God of Thunder states. "Thor, it's madness." The pair says at the same time. "Madness? What sort of madness?" Volstagg asks. "We're going to Jotunheim." The raven-haired god and goddess look at each other for a moment and gulp. "This isn't like a journey to Earth where you summon a little lightning and thunder, and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim." Frandal says to his friend with concern evident in his voice. "My father fought his way into Jotunheim, defeated their armies and took their Casket. We would just be looking for answers." "It is forbidden!" Sif exclaims. Thor goes on to talk to his friends as Arselia and Loki share a conversation within each other's minds. "Are you sure we are not taking it too far by going to Jotunheim?" Asks the weary goddess. "Have you no faith in me, my soul bond?" "I do, but I worry about the condition of our brother if he truly strikes a battle upon the Jotuns." "I assure you, he will be fine. His friends, possibly not so much." The pair chuckle within each other's minds, but Thor addressing both Sif and Arselia interrupt them.

"And who proved wrong all who scoffed at the idea that young maidens couldn't be the fiercest warriors and sorceresses this realm has ever seen?" Thor asks while gesturing to the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Mischief, Lies, and Thunder. "I did." The women state at the same time. "True, but I supported you both." Thor says as Arselia rolls her eyes. "My friends, we're going to Jotunheim."

《♛》《♛》《♛》

The group of seven make it to the gardens of Asgard where they go to gather their horses for the journey across the Bifrost bridge. As Thor and his friends talk amongst themselves, Arselia and Loki sneak off to the side momentarily and secretly talk to one of the standing guards. "Thor, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif have brought it upon themselves to travel to Jotunheim and battle the Jotuns. We have attempted to stop them, but it has worked to no avail. We go now with them to serve as their protection and make sure that they don't die untimely deaths. Pass this information to the All-Father." The goddess tells the guard. The guard nods his head and makes his way to spread the news. The blue-eyed god sends her a wink and they make their way to catch up with the rest of the group. "That silver tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble one day." The god states. Arselia side eyes her soul bond and nudges his side. "You are one to talk, and besides I'm waiting on the day that it actually happens."

The pair catch up with the rest of the group and mount onto their horses. They make their way out of the palace grounds and onto the beautifully colored bridge. Looking up in the sky is almost as if looking at a painting. Swirls of blues, greens, yellows, oranges, purples, and pinks fill the sky as the sun begins to set. The water glistens and the wind blows throughout everyone's hair as all of their trusty companions guide them to their destination.

The group stops their traveling once they see Heimdall standing at the end of the bridge. They all get off their mounts and walk over to the All-Seeing man that stands adorned in his gold armor. Loki and Arselia walk passed Thor and both say "You leave this to us." "Good Heimdall-" Loki starts but is immediately cut off by the golden-eyed man. "You're not dressed warmly enough." "I beg your pardon?" Arselia asks. "Do you think that you can deceive me?" The pair chuckles. "You must be mistaken-" "Why would we try and-" "Enough!" Thor exclaims. The pair immediately stops and Thor walks in front of them to attempt to talk to Heimdall. "Heimdall, may we pass?" "Never has an enemy slipped my watch until this day." The man steals a glance at the soul bond before continuing. "I wish to know how that happened." "Then tell no one where we have gone until we've returned. Understand?" Loki and Arselia look to each other, then look back at Thor. Arselia feels a pang of guilt rise within her, not just from herself, but from Loki. They love Thor, but they believe in doing this and stopping him from becoming king, they would be doing the realms a favor. The All-Father a favor.

Thor, The Warriors Three, and Lady Sif walk passed Heimdall, Arselia, and Loki. "What happened, you two? Silver tongues turned to lead?" Volstagg asks. Frandal, Lady, Sif and Thor let out laughs as Loki and Arselia follow behind the group with scowls on their faces. The seven make it into the circular golden room and Thor walks to the very end of it. Heimdall climbs upon the stairs prepared to place the sword into the holder to open the Bifrost. "Be warned. I will honor my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, Bifrost will remain closed to you and you'll be left to die in the cold waste of Jotunheim." Heimdall warns the group as they look to the entrance of the Bifrost. "Couldn't you just leave the bridge open for us?" Volstagg asks. "To leave the bridge open would unleash the full power of the Bifrost and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it." "How exciting." The goddess of thunder says. "I have no plans to die today." The god of thunder states. "Yet you and your recklessness will end up being the death of me." Arselia mutters under her breath.

Heimdall fully pushes the sword down, and the group is incased in blinding rainbow portal. Thor holds up mjölnir whilst Arselia holds up mizzath. The sword and the hammer give the god and goddess a sense of stability when in the Bifrost. They look to each other and smile while surrounded by a flurry of bright colors. After a couple moments of traveling, the group finally makes it to the cold, desolate realm of Jotunheim. Darkness of nighttime surrounds them, as a faint color of blue is casted within the realm.

"We shouldn't be here." Hogun states. Thor ignores his friend's remark and starts walking. "Lets move." An uneasy feeling crawls upon each and everyone's souls as they walk further into the realm, but being the warriors they are, they refuse to show their uneasiness. The septet eye their surroundings as they cling to their clothes for warmth, all except for Loki. The wind whistles and the breath of people show due to the cold climate. The group seem to notice the lack of Frost Giants within their home realm. "Where are they?" Asks the goddess of war. "Hiding, as cowards always do." Thor claims angrily.

"You've come a long way to die, Asgardians." Laufey, King of Jotunheim states. "I am Thor Odinson!" "We know who you are." "How did your people get into Asgard?" "The House of Odin is full of traitors." "Do not dishonor my father's name with your lies!" Loki and Arselia keep their poker faces on that they learned to develop over the years as they listen to the discussion. Laufey stands up and gets out of the shadows. "Your father is a murderer and a thief! And why have you come here? To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You're nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man." Laufey states as the Frost Giants come out from where they were hiding. "Well, this 'boy' has grown tired of your mockery." The king growls as him and his followers summon their ice blades. The Asgardians go into a defensive position ready for a possible battle.  Arselia and Loki rush over to Thor, realizing that their plan is beginning to get out of their hands. "Thor, stop and think. Look around you we're outnumbered." Loki says wearily. "Thor please listen to Loki, there needn't be a battle." Arselia adds. "Know your place, brother and sister." Thor spits out. "You know not what your actions would unleash. I do. Go now, while I still allow it."

"We will accept your most gracious offer." The raven-haired god states. "Thank you for your mercy, King Laufey." The mischievous goddess says. The king sends a small nod her way as Thor looks back and forth angrily between his brother and the Frost Giant. "Come on, brother." Loki says as he and Arselia begin walking away. Thor turns away, but is interrupted by a Frost Giant speaking. "Run back home, little princess." The anger rises once again within Thor and Arselia lets out a sigh. "Damn." "Here we go." The soul bond comments. Thor smiles, before swinging mjölnir at the Giant and sending it into a wall. "Next?" Thor asks, then proceeds to hit another Giant with his mighty hammer. The group of seven begin to fight off the Jotuns. Arselia stabs them with her trusty sword as Loki summons daggers to throw and impale them.

"At least make it a challenge for me!" Thor says confidently. More Frost Giants are sent to join the battle and spikes of ice rise from the ground. As Arselia swings her sword upwards with her right hand, she uses her left to conger daggers and throw them to oncoming enemies. She continues to fight and throws mizzath just to cut right through her attackers as she battles the other ones with her daggers. Her and a Jotun go at it with each other. Dagger to ice blade. One on one. The Jotun manages to knock her dagger out of her right hand, but when she sticks her hand out, mizzath comes back to her and her sword goes straight through the blue creature. Arselia watches as Loki is cornered in the battle, but isn't even afraid for her other half as she recognizes that it is merely one of his illusions. The Frost Giant runs towards Loki just for it to go straight through him. Arselia smirks and decides that she also wants to play tricks. She manages to make multiple versions of her and confuse the frost giants surrounding her. "Stop playing games and show your true self, witch!" The angered Giant shouts. "They don't call me the Goddess of Mischief and Lies for nothing, darling." Arselia uses herself and her illusions to attack the giants. She normally never fights like this, as it requires vast amounts of energy from her to make multiple illusions solid, but to get through this, her trickery must be used.

While fighting and messing with the Jotuns, she hears Volstagg shout "Don't let them touch you!" Thor continues to smash the Frost Giants with his hammer as Loki fights them off with his daggers. Arselia allows her illusions to take her place as she hides behind a pillar to regain her energy. She watches as Loki stabs a Frost Giant and how it manages to grab Loki's arm. Confusion is evident over Loki and Arselia's faces as she watches how the Jotun's touch doesn't burn the god, rather make his skin an icy blue. "That's not possible." Arselia whispers to herself. She senses a pang of sadness and hurt within her soul bond and tries to send him warm and reassuring feelings back. Loki stabs the Giant once more and watches as his skin turns back to it's pale complexion. "Loki." The blue and green eyed goddess calls his name. He turns to her with teary eyes and a shocked expression upon his face.

Before either of them can say anything more, they watch as a Frost Giant sends shards of ice into Frandal. The duo of mischief act quickly and throw daggers towards the Jotun. "Thor!" Sif shouts. Thor continues to fight as Hogun and Volstagg help their friend off the shard of ice. "We must go!" Shouts Loki. "Then go!" Retorts the stubborn blonde. "Do you not see the chaos that has ensued?!" Arselia asks in disbelief. "Oh trust me, I do!" Thor says as he throws mjölnir to go through the Frost Giants. Laufey begins to get fed up with the ignorant god just as his friends are. He summons magic to awaken his beasts that begin to be released from the ice. "RUN!" Volstagg shouts with Frandal above his shoulders. The group begins to run towards where the Bifrost landed with Thor still fighting behind them. "Thor!" Loki shouts. "THOR COME ON!" A worried Arselia shouts as she runs from the beasts.

The group makes it to the Bifrost point and Loki shouts for Heimdall to open the bridge. The Jotun beast crawls from the edge of the cliff to where the group of six resides and stalks towards them. Arselia summons mizzath to her hand and prepares to strike the large beast. Just as it goes to attack the group Thor flies through it and Arselia stabs it's chest. Loki grabs her and pulls her away just in time to not be crushed when it falls. She looks over to her soul bond and sends a small nod of thank you. Thor finally lands in front of the group of warriors, causing the beast's body to fall off the side of the cliff. Thor holds a victorious smile on his face as he turns, until he sees the large amounts of Jotuns that Laufey has summoned. "Great, now I'm going to die young." Says the goddess of thunder as she examines the army of Frost Giants in front of them. The blue creatures corner the group and make their way towards them. Suddenly, the Bifrost is summoned and Odin enters Jotunheim upon his eight-legged mount, Sleipnir.

Thor looks to his father excitedly and raises mjölnir in the air. "Father! We'll finish them together!" The one-eyed god looks to his son in disgust. "Silence." He spits out. Laufey makes his way towards the King of Asgard with a smirk etched upon his face. "All-Father. You look weary." The Jotun king states. "Laufey, end this now." "Your boy sought this out." The group all looks to Thor as he intently watches the interaction between his enemy and his father. "You're right. And these are the actions of a boy, treat them as such. You and I can end this right here and now, before there's further bloodshed." "We are beyond diplomacy now, All-Father. He'll get what he came for. War and death." Says the angered Jotun King. Arselia gulps as she fears for the life of not only herself, but for her soul bond and Thor, and for some reason a small bit of fear for the Warriors Three and Sif. "So be it." Just as Laufey summons an ice blade to strike Odin, Odin uses the power of Gungir to blast him away and bring the warriors home via the Bifrost.

Once back in the golden room on Asgard, Thor looks to his father in anger. "Why did you bring us back?" "Do you realize what you've done? What you've started?" "I was protecting my home." "You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom?!" Odin says angrily as he throws Hofund to Heimdall. "Get him to the healing room! Now!" Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif all hurriedly help the injured Frandal to the healing room as Odin and Thor argue. "There won't be a kingdom to protect if you're afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you." Arselia and Loki stand silently in the Bifrost chambers as they both watch the father and son pair argue, whilst still being shaken up from the battle. "That's pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You've forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior's patience." "While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You'd stand giving speeches, while Asgard falls." "YOU ARE A VAIN, GREEDY, CRUEL BOY!" The raven-haired god and goddess flinch back from the volume and tone of Odin's voice. Never have they heard or seen him be so angry. "AND YOU ARE AN OLD MAN AND A FOOL!" Thor raises his voice as well, challenging the one-eyed god. An awkward and uncomfortable silence fills the chamber as Odin looks down. "Yes. I was a fool...to think you were ready."

A feeling of triumph fills both Loki and Arselia, but their love for their brother forbids them to feel it for too long. "Father-" Loki tries to interject, but Odin growls over to him. Loki stands in front of Arselia protectively and looks to his father with the eyes of a scared boy. "Thor Odinson, you have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you've opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!" Odin states as he grabs Gungir and places it where Hofund would be. "You are unworthy of these realms! You're unworthy of your title! You're unworthy...of the loved ones you have betrayed." Arselia watches the encounter with wide eyes holding onto Loki's hand. "I now take from you your power!" Odin exclaims as he summons mjölnir to himself. "In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin All-Father, cast you out!" Odin shouts as he uses the power of mjölnir to send Thor away.

Loki and Arselia looked to their King teary-eyed with shocked and concerned faces. Odin brings mjölnir up to his face and whispers "Whoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor." Odin then throws it into the Bifrost, before looking to Arselia. "You are to not go after mjölnir or Thor, is that understood?" "Yes, my king." "Where have you sent him?" The god of mischief asks. "Midgard." He makes eye contact with Arselia before looking down. "If you were able to go there willingly, dear child and manage to survive, so shall he." "Father, I had my powers it's not the sa-" "This is not up for discussion, do I make myself clear?!" Odin shouts. The pair look down and nod their heads. They got what they wanted, to get Thor out of the way of the throne, but at what cost?

[adriereus-blog]

𝓤𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓪 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷

Their family was destined for greatness, her father would say. How could they not when they had the legacy of the almighty Zeus from his side and of Helios from her mother’s? Looking at her father, she could very well see how he was the son of Zeus. It is unfortunate, though, that her father had inherited the less than desirable traits from Zeus. Maybe she was asking for a little too much. After all: Zeus was never known for his intelligence, was he? Nor was he any decent to begin with. The way she sees it, the universe had to make do with what they can salvage to create a man far more dignified and refined. To that, she thinks that the universe was hoping for a little too much as the end result is utterly disappointing. 

For starters, they could have given her father more wits than her grandfather ever possessed. Anybody in their right minds would know better than to play a gamble with the gods. You would think being the son of Zeus, her father would be aware of the power the brothers of Zeus wields. How he has everything to lose challenging or testing a god while a god has everything to gain from anyone who dares defy them. Clearly, her father thought that being the son of Zeus would have been enough to overcome whatever consequence when he made that deal with Poseidon: make him the king of Crete by sending a bull from the depths of the sea and in return, it is promised that the bull would be sacrificed to the sea god. 

Her father did not twice to go back on his word with Poseidon as soon as the creature emerges on the shore, keeping the bull and sending a different one instead as a sacrifice once he was crowned king. The punishment of her father’s actions were immediate once Poseidon realises he was taken for a fool. Before she knew it, there was a raging bull running loose on their land, refusing to be tamed by anyone as it went on its rampage with the wranglers following closely to bring it into its pen. Watching a wild animal kicking and ramming its head into those who dare approach it was still an easy sight for her to digest, even with the occasional bruising and blood she sees the wranglers suffer from their attempts of caging the animal in. 

What was difficult for her, however, was to witness how her mother fell into a deep, insatiable lust for the bull. Whatever concoctions or rituals that were done in hopes of releasing her mother from the spell she was in proved pointless. Ariadne knew her mother was too far gone to be rescued when it reached to the unthinkable: an architect being brought in to design something that would allow her mother to have intercourse with the bull. It is not an image she would like to imagine her mother in but she has to admit that she was impressed by the mechanics of the contraception once it was done and even more at the fact that it actually works when she sees the loopy smile her mother would wear everytime she would peddle back from the pen.

She knows the lust was caused by Poseidon but sometimes, she wonders if there would come a point either way in the future that her mother would have resorted to extreme lengths such as this one in order to grant herself the pleasure she has been seeking but was never fulfilled despite having the status most women would have dreamed for. It must bruise her father’s pride a little to know that even an animal can make his wife feel more pleasure and joy than he ever could. 

So she finds it a perfect insult to the injury when her mother became pregnant by the bull and would later on give birth to a son. A son with a human body and a bull’s head, who would later be well known by the name Minotaur. Her father may have called him an atrocity but to the rest of the family, he was Asterion, the newest son in the family and her half-brother. 

“I do not think the people here like me very much.” 

Well, the better question would be, is there ever a time where the people in the castle ever approved or liked anyone? Not counting the times they are sucking up to her father and nodding to his every word in hopes of rising the ranks and getting better living conditions, of course. However, she hears the clear resignation in her brother’s voice and knows that this was one of those times where it would be better for her to be serious than to be a jokester. 

“People will love you. People will hate you. And none of it will have anything to do with you.”

“Do you not dislike me in the slightest bit?”

“I have no reason to.”

“But I am different.”

“Certainly. It is not every day that you see a boy with an animal’s head and a human’s body. Though, that is still not enough reason for me to find faults with you. The people who do mess with you for being different, they are fools. Cowards. For they are afraid to accept that there is still more about the world that they do not know of or understand, they resort to violence and vulgarities to deal with their insecurities instead of seeing it as opportunities to better understand and connect with the world.” 

“Are you not ashamed of me?” 

She lets out a snort at that, something she was sure that her etiquette teacher would be lecturing her about for being so unladylike. She could not help it. She thinks it is cute that he would think that she would be ashamed of him when their father exists. 

“No. If anyone brings shame to the family, it would be father above anyone else. You are going to have to do a lot, and I do mean a lot, to have me be embarrassed by you. Father has set a high standard for his incompetency. I assure you, you or anyone else would not be dethroning him anytime soon for that.”

She turns her head to see a smile on Asterion’s face. Or at least, what she thinks is a smile. It is rather hard to tell what expressions Asterion has, what with his animal head. 

“Thank you.”

“If anyone dares to lay a hand on you or treats you roughly, do let me know. You may have the head of a bull but I am the one who possesses the strength and the stubborness of a bull. It is advisable that people do not mess with you.”

Most especially, their father.  

[minded-words]

that was the thing. maybe that's why it was such a confusing thing to feel. here i was, jealous of someone who symbolized everything i disliked: cheating, lying, privilege, and facades. and here i was not simply hating her for it, but jealous of the fact that she was held up on a silver platter all the more for her actions. and that was what was confusing: i wanted to be liked by people who held others to that kind of standard. no-- by people who paraded this girl, this girl who had hurt me and the people i loved, for these actions. and she was unashamed. that was the thing. i wasn't jealous because i admired her, or her peers, or because i had any desire to be paraded around; quite the opposite, in fact. i didn't want anything she had, so why did i compare myself to her? maybe because i saw her living an echo of the life i wanted, not in the ways or money or lies or shady friends or being matched around like a trophy. but because i wanted friends who defended and loved me and were proud to know me. because i wanted to travel and learn and appreciate the opportunities that were thrown her way and subsequently thrown away. because i wanted to seem incredible and larger than life to myself, the way her life seemed to the outside world. but maybe that was simply me looking from the outside in. looking inward at myself though, i realized that more than anything i wanted to be unprecedented. unimaginable. not something you could pinpoint or predict. but something one couldn't catch long enough to parade. something one couldn't explain or anticipate. something that belonged deeply to myself and only myself, the way the wind doesn't belong to the sky or the earth or the trees, but is free of will and motive and it's own power and beauty. and that was something she could never be. she had all the means to be and do anything she desired, but she would always belong to other people in social media posts and favors never given or taken freely. and perhaps that was selfish of me to say, but that was the fact; we were opposites. her with all means, no execution. and me with nothing but the follow through. by the end of the day, i didn't need the money or the friends or parties or homecoming nominations that i held as standards by which to compare myself. i didn't need the guys begging to fuck me, or the clothes that mommy and daddy shelled out money for. At the end of the day, i was never going to get those things. because people who belong to themselves have loved ones, but they are hard to love. they can never belong to people, and anymore i've found that people cannot love what does not belong to them, at least not in the same way. i knew this about myself. i knew i was hard to deal with, and even harder to understand. but i knew that there was an innate desire to understand me, whether or not i cared for the empathy i doled out to be given back. i knew i'd always be a fleeting enigma, a better memory than a possession to everyone i came across. so no, my parents would never unconditionally love and support me like hers did. my parents were selfish and narrow, and i forgave and understood them for that, though they could not forgive me for my being stubborn and independent and an escapist. like i said, it's hard to love what one cannot control and claim. so they left me unclaimed. thus unloved. no, i would never be chased by people who wanted me like she was. people give up chases if their prey cannot be caught. but i would be adored, if not loved, for love implies understanding and i was incapable of being mutually fully understood. i would never have the worship of friends. people do not worship what they cannot fathom. you do not worship earthquakes, or hurricanes, or tsunamis. but you respect them. you cannot worship what you do not anticipate. you can worship preconceived ideas, stories people tell you with conviction, things people promise will save you. but i was never going to set out as a savior for anyone but myself, and i never sought one either. unpredictability is only a liability, not a deity. you cannot parade around a tiger like you can parade around a lap dog. and we would always differ in that department. i would not give myself away to the stages of parties, where people put up or took down walls under premises of mind bending, only for the supposed amusement of others. nor would i give myself away to the stages of high schools measuring people by crowns at dances. it ended up being something i didn't care about, walking around in circles for classmates i didn't know, people i wouldn't share even snippets of my life with. i didn't want to be a instagram post, or a twitter video. i wanted to be something people would wonder about but never grasp for years to come. and i pitied her for the fact that i knew she would always be under someone's thumb, and i would never be snatched away from myself. my jealousy never quite was justified, but it eventually faded for the fact that i was comforted by a deep sense of home in the soles of my feet, and not caged by a trap she'd set for her own life's snares. anyway, that's all i have to say to comfort myself.

green eyed monsters.

[mylifeinbooks]

King’s Cage Review

The third book in the Red Queen Series is phenomenal.  It takes the first two novels, repeats elements of them, and somehow makes it even better.  I know that sounds weird, but let me explain before you judge me too harshly.

In the first book, we met Mare, an ordinary Red girl who is simply trying to save her friend when she discovers that she has Silver powers.  This leads to her masquerade as a Silver until she manages to escape in the end.  For the first half of King’s Cage, we once again see Mare imprisoned in the Silver world, at the behest of King Maven.  Now, though, instead of being taught and studied while she is being controlled, her powers are silenced, returning her to the ordinary Red girl she was at the beginning of the series.  She is more a prisoner than she has ever been in the past, but I truly believe this is the best thing that could have happened to her. In Glass Sword, we watched as Mare pushed everyone away, doing her best to shoulder the responsibility of the Newbloods and their safety.  These actions, and her retreat into herself, started turning her into a monster, isolating herself even more from her friends. The loneliness she felt was psychological, and of her own making.  Now, in her imprisonment, her loneliness is physical, a truly evident isolation.  She is kept not only from her power but also from people she would feel safe around.  The only people she ever interacts with are her Ardent guards, who smother her power even more than the silent stone manacles she wears, Maven, and Evangeline.  A few other Silvers cross her path, but they are never beneficial to her.  Her methods of coping change.  Mare knows she must escape, must figure out a way to get a message to the Scarlet Guard that she is truly imprisoned and being used as Maven’s puppet, and she never stops trying to gather intel and scheme.  Her inner fire springs back to life and is kept alive in the insults and insinuations she hurls at those around her, even though she continues to struggle in Maven’s presence.  Thus, I believe, that by returning Mare to her original, unpowerful state as she was at the beginning of the series, she is given the chance to rediscover herself.  She will never be the same girl she was prior to imprisonment, for that kind of torture, slow and leeching of will and strength and mind, will always leave its mark, but she rediscovers her true need for her friends and family and their support, and her inner fight in a way that was twisted in Glass Sword.  The story begins again in a way, reversing some of the damage the first part had done.

Her rescue from Maven’s grasp marks the divide in the two books, just as her rescue from the Bowl of Bones marks the divide between the first two novels.  Now Mare is truly accepted as part of the Scarlet Guard, and she begins to truly train with her powers, as well as her physical strength and conditioning.  She no longer isolates herself from the Newbloods, from her friends, and not even from her family.  She may not tell everyone everything she went through, but she is more open, more accepting to their love and support than she was before.  She even allows herself to open up fully to Cal, to truly let him in. She does find it difficult to let go of the habits she gained during her six months in captivity, habits like squirreling away bits of information, and there are other lingering effects that she feels strongly.  But overall she begins the process of healing and training so that the next time she faces Maven she is ready for him.  She becomes a source of advice to some of her fellow Newbloods, more human and approachable, able to release them from fighting when they feel they can’t release themselves.  But it isn’t until their new alliance with the Silvers allows them to defeat Maven’s troops does she realize that she is still being used as a pawn.  When it becomes clear that Cal is wanted by the Silvers to take the throne of Norta, and marry Evangeline, Mare watches the person she love make a choice she doesn’t think she can follow.  She never wants to be in another King’s Cage, as she was with Maven, and see’s Cal’s choice to accept the crown should they win as the act that ends their relationship.  When she is told later than one of the commanders knew of this plan and allowed it, the reason is simple: let the Silvers tear themselves apart fighting over this.  Cal is being used, and to an extent she was too.  I’m not sure how the story moves forward from here, but things are definitely in a better place as far as Mare is concerned, especially when compared to the first two novels.

The interesting thing I found was the addition of two new narrators.  Of course, with Mare in captivity there had to be another way to show us the progress of the Silver Guard and what was happening with them.  I found it interesting that Cameron was the one chosen for this role, since she was the conscripted Newblood in Glass Sword and vocally disliked everything that was going on.  Her one goal is to save her brother, and that is it.  She has no interest in the revolution beyond what it can do to help her get her brother back.  In a way, this allows a bit more of a skeptical look into the Scarlet Guard, but one still of an outsider.  We might have gained more insight from Cal, but I think his focus on Mare and her rescue would have been a bit distracting.  Plus it would have spoiled a bit of the surprise in relation to her rescue and how it came about, which is the set up for the big reveal of his return to power (which isn’t his motive, by the way, it shocks him as much as it does Mare).

The other new narrator is Evangeline, elected to show us what is happening with House Samos and their development of their own kingdom and the alliances they form to both gain and solidify that power and to keep it in the future.  She is the only person we truly know from House Samos, and surprisingly I think the insights into her head humanize her a lot more, show us the person she is when she isn’t wearing her mask.  We can see that she doesn’t want to be Cal’s new queen now that it will take her from the love of her life, separating them for most of the rest of their lives.  Her careful planning, the thought that she herself was finally free to make her own choices, was stripped away in order to position her father to retain his power. We see that, in a way, Evangeline is as much a prisoner as others were, enslaved to the will of her father and the loyalty to her house, something that is expected of Silvers.

This novel was a wealth of information, and still just as engrossing as the first two.  Aveyard has truly woven a remarkable tale, and I honestly have no idea where it is headed.  Honestly, I thought this was going to be the last book of the series, so you can imagine my surprise when it ended with nothing resolved as far as the overarching storyline was concerned.  How will the new world be brought to life?  Will Cal really become King? Will Evangeline find a way to follow her heart? And what is Mare’s next move? How will she proceed? One thing is for certain, this book didn’t end on quite the cliffhanger the others did, but it feels like the calm before the next storm.

Read May 2017

[exspirarchived]

really  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY.    RULES.  repost ,   don’t  reblog  !    tag  10  ! good  luck  !    TAGGED. stole it from God knows who.    TAGGING. @theplaguelord @l-promised-him @thesealovesme @leo-xor @shxmanisms @prcmaturedeath @crownofstormwind @blackenedfangs @motherswrath @renuntiatum @vxncleef

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :   Zoen Mith Menethil. NICKNAME :   Zoey, Isdiearore, Frost Wyrm, Queen, Wraith. TITLE :   Deathlord of the Ebon Blade (formerly a mere Knight); the Wraith; Lord Mith; Lady Menethil (which she does not like); Kingslayer; Kinslayer. AGE :   22 as of Legion. BIRTHDAY :   July 14. ETHNIC  GROUP :   Undead, formerly human of Lordaeron. NATIONALITY :    Alliance, Acherus, Undead Scourge. LANGUAGE / S :   Common, Eredun, the Language of Death. SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :   Asexual. ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :   Painfully romantic, she wears her heart on her sleeve. RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :   ??? HOME  TOWN / AREA :   Capital City, Lordaeron. CURRENT  HOME :   Acherus: The Ebon Hold; an apartment overlooking the Stormwind Harbor. PROFESSION :  Deathlord of the Ebon Blade, adventurer, mercenary, thief, assassin, advisor, brawler.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :   Short, white spikes that fall as a cascade of icicles, basically like L from Death Note except bleached. EYES :   Smoking, glowing, lichfire blue. (For those unfamiliar with WoW and death knight eyes, here is what they look like: here, here, here.) FACE :   Heart-shaped. LIPS :   Grey and somewhat thin for her face. COMPLEXION :   Not bad for someone who’s been dead for around five years.  BLEMISHES :   None that I’m not going to talk about below. SCARS :   Many, though her most noticeable and notorious would be the four long, deep, ragged lines that run down her left cheek, starting just shy of her ear and tapering off near her chin. Hidden beneath clothing, on her back, runs the scar of the wound that initially killed her, a deep cut that starts at her left shoulder and runs down to her right hip. TATTOOS :   Due to her desire to become stronger, Zoen and a few trusted individuals carved her up a lot with a bunch of experimental runic tattooing that supposedly augments her power over Shadow and Unholy. See here for a more in-depth talk about their placement and design. (Although it’s not much depth, mind.) HEIGHT :   6′4″ before you factor in her ridiculous hair. WEIGHT :   Unknown. While she is not exactly light considering her significant height and wiry musculature, she is neither exactly heavy.  BUILD :   Ectomorph, for sure. FEATURES :   Zoen has a very hungry, predatory look to her, which combined with the refinement of a royal heritage means that she has a somewhat feral majesty to her. High cheekbones, but gaunt cheeks; elegant hands covered in scars and callouses; soft hair chopped up into a ragged mess. The list goes on. ALLERGIES :   Holy water, the Light, sanctified silver, consecrated ground, love and happiness. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :   Short, messy spikes that kind of just do their thing. See again: L from Death Note. USUAL  FACE  LOOK :   Mild disinterest.  USUAL  CLOTHING :   Always wearing a black longcoat unless stated otherwise, underneath which she may be wearing either a suit of saronite armor or dark, ragged clothing. In situations where she wouldn’t wear the coat or the armor, she’d probably angle for the Azerothian equivalent to tank tops and black pants, along with dark, heavy boots. (See also: the icon.)

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S :   Death knights know no fear except the fear of a final death, of appearing weak, of Arthas, of being caged, of giving in to the monster, of becoming the Lich Queen, of losing the people she loves. ASPIRATION / S :   To defeat the Legion, currently. Also not fuck up her job of leading the Ebon Blade.  POSITIVE  TRAITS :   Humorous, witty, loyal(ish), intelligent, curious, generally tries to be a good person. NEGATIVE  TRAITS :   Violent, sadistic, murderous, short-tempered, prejudicial, kinda racist, self-loathing, misanthropic, cannibalistic, devious, deceptive, forgetful, disloyal(ish), unkind, sarcastic, snarky, cruel, not always successful at trying to be a good person. MBTI :    ISTP-T - The Virtuoso. ZODIAC :   Cancer. TEMPEREMENT :   Choleric. (how???) SOUL  TYPE / S :   The Hunter. ANIMALS :   Weasel, crocodile, wolf. VICE  HABIT / S :   Murder. FAITH :   No idea. GHOSTS ? :   Yes. AFTERLIFE ? :   Yes. REINCARNATION ? :   Yes. ALIENS ? :   Yes. POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :   Knights of the Ebon Blade. EDUCATION  LEVEL :   While Zoen had an educating befitting a noble whilst she lived in Lordaeron, her subsequent fall into poverty meant that formal education became a pipe dream. As a result, she educated herself via reading everything she could get her hands on, furtively attending lectures, and eavesdropping on smart people talking whenever she could. As a result, she’s fairly knowledgeable if rather eclectic.

FAMILY.

FATHER :   Arthas Menethil. MOTHER :   Jaina Proudmoore. SIBLINGS :   None. CHILDREN :   None, although Tiris is basically her floofy wolf son. EXTENDED  FAMILY :   Calia Menethil (paternal aunt). Derek Proudmoore (maternal uncle). NAME  MEANING / S :   Zoen comes from the Greek name Zoë, which means “life” while Mith is obviously just a misspelling of “myth.” So her name is basically just me saying that she isn’t real, among other things. HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :   I don’t really understand this question.

FAVORITES.

BOOK :   Changes often. Currently The Emperor’s Burden. MOVIE :   n/a. Do not exist yet. 5  SONGS :     Unfortunately, Azeroth doesn’t exactly have any in-game tracks. (The jukebox and audiobox tunes don’t count.) So I’ve no idea, but there’d probably be a motley of classical pieces and loud rock music. DEITY :   She no longer actively worships anyone or thing, though she still holds a strange place in her heart for the Light.  HOLIDAY :   Midsummer Fire Festival. MONTH :   January. SEASON :   Winter. PLACE :   Crystalsong Forest. WEATHER :   Raging blizzard, heavy rain. SOUND :   Loud, classical music that drowns out the silence in her head. SCENT / S :   Blood freshly spilled; a garden of flowers; winter in the far north; the spices of a Pandaren marketplace.    TASTE / S :   Plague. FEEL / S :   Tiris’ fur carded through her fingers. ANIMAL / S :   Wolves, birds of prey, foxes. NUMBER :   n/a. COLORS :   Blue, black, white, grey, purple. 

EXTRA.

TALENTS :   Singing, swordplay, bladework, piano, lying. BAD  AT :   Chess, dancing, cooking, drawing, morality, apologizing, feeling, gardening, remembering. TURN  ONS :   Good first impression; not being a paladin; height; being a pretty, pretty elf. TURN  OFFS :   Bad first impression; being a paladin; being Gilnean; being Forsaken. HOBBIES :   Reading, playing piano, singing, taking care of Tiris, making and keeping friends. TROPES :    A lot. QUOTES :   “Bastards can’t inherit their fathers’ names, much less their crowns.” ; “I’m the wolf in the woods, darling, and I never let little rats like you escape from me.” ; “You’re just a frightened little boy trying to smash the playset before the other kids can come and play with it. You’re a bit late, love. Void’s here, and it answers to me.” ; “I’m an adult. I pay rent.” 

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S : Rose McIver in her role as Live Moore despite being around eleven years older than Zoen and not actually looking like her at all. ALT  FC / S : Thinking about branching out to include Riley Blue from Sense8. OLDER  FC / S :   n/a. YOUNGER  FC / S :   n/a. VOICE  CLAIM / S :   She’s kind of in the realm of Halsey and Florence Welch and Eva Green, while being only seventeen and having the weird death knight sepulchral echo voice effects going on.  GENDERBENT  FC / S :   n/a.

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?          

     Blood in the Ice, probably, and it’d likely be mostly about her existence postmortem. More specifically, some of the goings-on during Wrath of the Lich King, when she was still young and raw and primal. The major plot would likely just be her coming to terms with her undeath and her freedom from the Lich King, and how she adjusts to existing among the living, despite their distaste for her and her hunger for them. Plus, yanno, the whole “Daddy’s a monster” thing.

Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?          

     I have absolutely no idea. Dark, for sure, a little melancholic, but also with some fast and sharp pieces during fight scenes or when she starts snapping and yelling and killing people.

Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?

     Y’all know how we all have that Mary Sue character when we’re like, twelve-ish, and looking back at her we kind of cringe and think “What was I thinking, man, that character was just awful.”

     Yeah. That’s Zoen.

Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?          

     I was like, twelve. I stopped writing her when I was thirteen, then came back to her when I was... I think sixteen-ish? Don’t really know why I started up again, don’t really know why I’ve stuck to her so much.

Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.        

     I mean, she’s my character, so I have a lot of things that I’m pretty insecure about regarding her, but if we’re going to go into actual dislike, it may be that she’s slowly starting to embrace her monstrosity. Like, being undead does not equal being a bad person, but Zoen is irrefutably a bad person, and the fact of the matter is, she isn’t really trying all that hard not to be. Plus, she’s prejudicial as hell and that’s just... not... cool, bro. It really isn’t.

Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?          

     Uh, not much, really. I, too, have weird-ass anime hair, though I actually use fucking hairspray to achieve this. We both think canines are cool.

Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?          

     Have you seen the hell I’ve made her life and unlife? The girl would vivisect me if she could.

Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?        

     Myrundiel Mourningale, Donquixote Doflamingo, Portgas D. Ace, Maveric Unelanvhi, Anduin Wrynn, Varian Wrynn, Jaina Proudmoore, Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker. 

Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?        

     Music, a lot of the time. 

Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?        

     I don’t even know, mate. Too long, for sure.