#like the dreadlord fight

[clustxr]

@needlesandnilbogs

D&D going mainstream really messed up people's expectations cause chances are you're not gonna find a DM who has the free time, talent and resources to put on a tale that competes with Tolkien. you're gonna find your friend's roommate Phil who's read one of the manuals a few times and has to pause to get a calculator out to figure out how much damage your attack did and his story is blatantly ripping off a dragon age 2 side quest

[renaultmograine]

Going from Varian to Anduin as a king must have been wild. Here's your loud, aggressive king, always ready to throw down. He will put himself on the front lines. You're not going to convince him to stay back and stay safe. He will personally fight this war.

And he dies heroically in battle, and his pacifist, peace loving son takes the throne. He's done some weapons training but isn't really inclined to it, he's more of a healer, he's taken to priesthood. That's fine, you'll do your duty and protect him regardless—honestly it'll probably be easier because he'll stay back and make sure to heal your wounds.

And then your king is attacked, and you rush to keep your king safe, but when you get there he's pinned a dreadlord to the wall himself and is like "no I'm fine! don't worry I'll take care of this" and then renders the dreadlord naught but ash.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Baldur, Aerin, and MC- Relationships with Violence

All three of these characters have really unique relationships with violence and physical force, which are very well put on display by the confrontation scene in Book 3, Chapter 5.

Baldur: Violence First

Baldur loooves violence. He makes that clear when you meet him, quickly using his size and strength to get his way. His preferred means of interacting with the world is physical- violence and sex.

But he isn't impulsively lashing out in all directions- most his violence is purposeful. Even if that purpose is incredibly selfish, it is a purpose. A conscious choice.

This isn't a person who just acts out without thinking about it. This is someone who has made a conscious choice to intimidate and injure others to meet good own ends. In the Deadwood, it's a public show of force to prove that he is in charge, not Aerin. Most of the time, it's choosing to physically hurt Aerin when they're alone to minimize any intervention. I think it's safe to assume that Aerin was Baldur's most common target, but not his only one.

For Baldur, violence is his primary method of problem solving- his first thought. In part because he enjoys asserting his own power and control over others through physical means.

That's why at the River of Seekers, Baldur isn't looking into the present like Mal's mom. He has no loved ones, he has no interest in the world without him in it. If Baldur isn't physically influencing others, he doesn't care. So he's doing his best Narcissus impression until he loses himself. His physical ability to dominate others is gone, leaving him with just fond memories of it.

(For those who didn't have the Greek mythology phase I did: Narcissus was a self-centered jerk who was cursed to fall in love with his own reflection in a pool, leading to his death.)

Aerin: Violence Last

Before spotting Baldur in the river, Aerin 'jokes' about killing him again. But I think this was more of an attempt to connect with Valax than anying else. Because even if Aerin reaches Baldur before you do, he doesn't attack him. In fact, Aerin never touches him at all. MC is the one who finally forces Baldur to pay attention. Aerin just... asks him questions before quickly giving up.

Because, barring a strong outside influence, Aerin doesn't solve his problems with violence. Even when he's fully Dreadlord corrupted, Aerin never strikes first. He doesn't attack Baldur until he physically grabs and verbally threatens him.

It also seems significant that he doesn't try to make Baldur suffer- he doesn't beat him or mock him, though based on what we see he absolutely could have in that moment. Aerin kills Baldur incredibly cleanly. Sure, he gloated about it a little, but it felt like Aerin celebrating finally 'winning,' not the violence itself.

Aerin, almost universally, tries to talk his way out of problems. I'd guess this is a combination of his generally more cerebral temperament and the fact that acting out physically never would have gotten him anywhere when he was younger (and probably still won't).

At the river, Baldur seems clearly uninterested in fighting back. But still, Aerin never takes a shot at him just because he can. And it isn't because he's afraid of Baldur in this moment- we see fear from Aerin in situations that mirror his brother's abuse. But this isn't one of them. Aerin is sad and angry.

But still, Aerin's emphasis is on words, not fighting. "You've got nothing to say?" Aerin just doesn't get satisfaction from physical violence like his brother does. Hitting him (or dismembering him, as Aerin hyperbolically says later) wouldn't have felt good to Aerin. He wanted to win on his terms, verbally getting through to Baldur that he lost and Aerin was right all along.

But unfortunately for Aerin, Baldur was never going to give him that satisfaction.

MC: Violence When Necessary

MC take a more moderate approach than either Valleros brother. To MC, violence is one of their many tools. Literally one third of their abilities are "combat." Violence isn't their favorite, not something they enjoy, but something occasionally necessary for the greater good. Even if they view the violence itself as "bad."

How MC gets Baldur's attention at the river is a great example. Because you have three options, all involving some degree of physical or magical force.

And it's a good thing they did. Because Baldur was never going to respond to words and Aerin was never going to try anything else. This problem, like many others, needs a flexible approach.

That flexibility and the willingness to learn may be MC's greatest strengths. MC builds the most diverse skillset of anyone in the party and is willing to apply whatever might work to the situation. And that well-rounded understanding and approach to problem solving is key to saving the day.

Screenshots are a combination of my own stockpiles and ones from Neckrone Shen on youtube, who has saved me untold hours of replaying.

[lostworldss]

Blades 3 Crack Theory

Hear me out.

In Book 2 during one of Nia’s romance scenes, she mentions praying to Ellara, Nifara, and the Mother of Grey for MC to come back.

Now we saw the Mother of Grey/Ash Empress in Book 2, and we learned all the lore about her, Nifara, and the rest of the old gods. Nifara is likely to be the big enemy for Book 3.

But how much do we know about Ellara?

I am going to preface this by saying that I’m not good at remembering all the lore/history from the lore tablets or whichever, so please correct me if i’m wrong with any of this.

But I don’t remember learning much about Ellara specifically. With Nia’s context here, I thought to believe that Ellara was a deity. Perhaps a New God since the lore tablets spoke of all the Old Gods and she wasn’t included.

After checking Book 2 chapter 8, I verified that Ellara is in fact a New God.

This makes sense, considering that Nia prays to her and she has the Temple near Riverbend named after her that we explored.

Also, in the first chapter of the series, in the very beginning scene showing the battle against the Dreadlord thousands of years ago, we see a character named Ellara speaking with Xaius (Elven king/Other New God). Not much information is given about her in the scene, except for her seemingly being in a romantic relationship with Xaius. According the the choices wiki, she is a battle mage and Xaius second in command.

I’m not sure when exactly Ellara and Xaius became New Gods, was it before or after this battle? I’m not sure if they mentioned it before in Book 1. But either way, we can assume this character is The Ellara.

I’m really hoping Book 3 goes into the lore of the New Gods more, especially after learning about the Old Gods previously. Maybe the New Gods can assist us in fighting Nifara.

But back to the actual theory part. For a brief second, lets pivot to something else.

Who is the only character in the party whose family lineage/parents are unknown? (Kade could technically count maybe, but not him).

Who’s familial background is a complete shot in the dark?

Not MC, they have memories of their parents before the raid on their hometown. They were also given different deeper backgrounds based on their race in Book 2.

It’s Nia. She was adopted by the Church of Light as an infant, and she never knew anything about her actual family.

Now, maybe it’s just a funny coincidence, but does anyone else find it a bit interesting that her last name (Ellarious) sounds very similar to the name Ellara? Hmm.

But perhaps it’s a just simply a coincidence.

We could also assume that Ellara is a mage of light magic, since we know that she was a mage that would presumably be using light magic to counter the shadow magic of the Dreadlord. And we know this was after Nifara already separated the world into Light and Shadow realms, so the elves at this time probably didn’t know about True magic. And if Ellara is a god, she must be really good at it.

Hmm. Is there anyone else we know who’s naturally attuned to magic, maybe light magic specifically?

And just one more thing. What does Ellara look like in that screenshot? What colors is she wearing? She seemed to be dressed in a lot of white and gold, and wearing jewelry. Red hair. Hmm.

If you haven’t guessed my theory that I’m hinting at, here it is:

What if Nia Ellarious is a descendent of/related to Ellara???

And I’ll be honest I remember the name being similar thing being a thought in my mind before but I didn’t put any connection to it in my mind I was just like “oh they both kinda sound similar that’s cool.”

But let me enlighten you on on more thing. The suffix “-ious” in the english language means “having/characterized by/to have characteristics of.”

Nia’s last name literally means “to have the characteristics of Ellara.”

ITS BEEN STARING US IN THE FACE THIS ENTIRE TIME.

Also worth pointing out that when we first met Nia in book 1 chapter 1, where were Scholar Vash and her heading to? The Temple of ELLARA

Like you can’t tell me All of this is a coincidence (it probably is).

[normal-thoughts-official]

my absolute favorite part of book 2 is definitely the way they're addressing the whole good/evil dichotomy and how great historical myths like the fight against the dreadlord are used to manipulate people into believing supremacist bullshit. tyril is being extremely annoying this chapter but i am enjoying the way they are talking about it and questioning this whole nodtalgia for the elven empire, and how even supposedly progressive people (like tyril) can have some shockingly gross beliefs if they don't question this stuff. idk i just think it's neat that they're showing the cracks in the whole wrapped up good versus evil narrative of book 1, and bringing up some important subjects about how nationalist mythology is fundamentally self serving and manipulative

[rosesnink]

Orc Has a Heart-to-Heart with Orc

Author's Notes

Guess what's back by popular demand! More Blades MCs interacting in honour to the new Blades book! This time, I had the honour to write Brienne with @rjschoicesstuff 's iconic MC Rex, who was such a delight to write! Consider this a thank you for everything that you do for the fandom, and enjoy this highly anticipated fic!

If you think YOUR MC would vibe with mine, let me know!

English isn't my first language, so please forgive any typos/grammar mistakes

Next on the list: Maiele Nightbloom, Raine Parnassus and Autumn Nightbloom ( @lilyoffandoms @thosehallowedhalls & @dutifullynuttywitch 's MCs)

If you wish to be added to my Blades tag, tell me!

Likes are nice, but reblogs keeps a post alive and reaches more people

Summary: On the celebration of her victory over the Dreadlord, Brienne encounters an orc that she can relate to... in every single way.

Word Count: 1.1k

Category: Platonic friendship, LGBT+, fluff, comfort

Pairing: F!Orc!MC x Bigender!Orc!MC

Rating: G

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II

As Brienne left behind the dancing bodies of the party in the Temple of Ellara, she sat on the stairs, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, the warm wind warming her bones and playing with her purple skirt, feeling a bit lighter after all that socializing.

Then, her subconscious told her that she was being watched. Opening her eyes, she scanned the party, people either getting drunk, talking and laughing or dancing wildly. Until her eyes set on a shy orc, glancing at her, his hair in a mullet and a small armor in her tall, strong body. She smiled at him, and she blushed. Feeling that he must be shy, Brienne approached the ogling orc “Copper for your thoughts?”

The orc’s eyes shoot up and started sputtering “Oh, uh—well, um, that is to say… you—you look beautiful. Purple is, it suits you.”

Brienne chortled fondly and extended her hand “Brienne.”

“Uh, R-Rex. My name is, yes, Rex.” She blinked and took a deep breath and shook Brienne’s hand nervously, and Brienne decided not to tease the flushing orc about his sweaty hands.

Brienne was usually taller than the average Morellan, but being a bit shorter definitely was a relief. She smiled brightly at her “What brings you here, Rex? You’re far away from Flotilla, don’t you think?”

“I, um, live here. Grew up here, in Riverbend, I meant, n-not the temple.”

Brienne beamed. On her trip, she had found many elves and humans, many whom she remembered fondly, but seeing an orc who had grown up like her… it was such a relief. She beamed “Oh my Gods, me too! I grew up in a farm near the pond, with Dr. Kerrigan and his wife after he took me in after the raids in which my mother…”

Rex softened and placed a meaty hand on her shoulder “My mother died on the raids outside too. I was taken too by a kind farmer.”

Brienne felt a warmth in her heart that she hadn’t felt in a while. She had met many orcs that called her ‘landrat’ and were weary of her because she had been raised by humans, but to find someone she shared this with… it was like she was seen for the first time.

“Tell me about him.” She then extended her arm and Rex took it, both walking away from the party, allowing themselves some privacy as Rex started telling her tales of his foster father.

“He was gruff, and didn’t talk much, but he taught me everything I knew then and gave a home and a family. What about you?”

“Eugene wasn’t much of a talker either. He was in fact austere and a man of few words, but he taught me how to fight, heal and charm people as well as he taught me how to sew my own clothes, take care of myself and took me to the library where I could read after helping him in his job. I wasn’t cutting patients, mostly grunt work he couldn’t do due to his age, but it was work, and always defended my name and was the closest thing I ever got to a father.”

Rex nodded, actively listening to Brienne “I didn’t visit him much, but he always seemed like an honest and simple man. I’m glad you were taken care of.”

They smiled to one another and breathed into the beautiful field of lilies and primroses until Brienne asked “I wonder if you’ve ever felt… like an intruder. Like… deep down, this isn’t where you shouldn’t be. You’re in the way of everyone and one day the people will turn you in and… sell you to a noble or kick you out?”

Rex sighed “Yes. I do. I mean, most orcs have been nice, but… they all seem to know so much of their own race and I…”

“Don’t?” Brienne finished. Then, she sighed “I feel like I am between two words. Not human enough for the humans, but not orcish enough for the orcs. Always on the fence, both sides not wanting me… it just stings. It’s completely humiliating, that neither of your heritages seem to want you…”

Rex tentatively put a hand on Brienne’s and smiled shyly “We can be an unwanted clan. I-If you’d like.”

Brienne smirked teasingly “I wouldn’t mind forming a clan of unwanted orcs with your handsome self.”

Rex blushed deep and coughed “That’s, um, nice.”

“Are you always so eloquent when a girl flirts with you?”

Rex covered his face with her hands and sighed “I’m… not used to someone as pretty as you to flirt with… me.”

Brienne batted her eyelashes “You think I’m pretty?”

Rex looked for a moment at Brienne. She was wearing a summer purple dress with an accentuated bosom that remarked her strikingly bulging breasts, her hair black and curly down, carefully brushed, and smelled like fresh pine trees and lavender. Brienne leaned closer, and Rex looked away. “No need to be shy, beauty. I do not bite. Unless you’re into it.”

Brienne saw Rex gulp and then turned to look at her again “I’m… I…”

“May I kiss you, Rex?”

Rex took a deep breath, and nodded. Brienne approached carefully, seeing if Rex was comfortable, and he was. Then, she planted a soft kiss on her lips, and allowed Rex to take command. It was short and sweet, and Rex smiled despite being all flushed.

They laid on the grass, staring at the clear blue sky, hands brushing as they observed the scenery in silence.

“I think I needed this,” Brienne murmured.

“Need what?”

“To be understood. Seen. Relate to someone.”

Rex smiled “Me too. It is a shame that we have to part ways…”

Brienne sighed “I know… But for now, I shall stall as much as I can.”

“Your friends may be wondering where you are.”

Brienne smirked “Let them miss me a little.”

Both orcs laughed, allowing the sunlight to kiss their green skins, the sunset coming at any minute. In a few hours, she’d be off to the next rift. Anything could happen. But for now, she cared nothing for it. It was her, Rex and the orange sun slowly setting on the horizon.

Both orcs looked at one another, and pulled the other into a tender hug. They gave each other a comforting smile “Will I see you again?”

“Of course. And we’ll have a good ale and many things to tell the other, I’m sure.”

Rex was about to say something when a deep, feminine voice called “Oi, Rex!”

Nia’s voice called “Brienne!”

Chuckling, they got up “See you soon.”

“Until next time, Rex.”

[cursedbanalities]

A (Short) Monologue of Strahd von Zarovich

***Spoilers for The Curse of Strahd Fifth Edition D&D Module

[[I wrote this after the party infiltrated Castle Ravenloft to save their NPC companion, Ireena Kolyana (Or Tatyana, according to Strahd), from the clutches of Vampire Lord Strahd von Zarovich. I've been playing Strahd as a sort of incel version of Astarion from BG3, preferring to play with his food and ducking out once any form of trouble emerges. The party climbed to the top of the highest tower and destroyed Strahd's "Heart of Sorrow" in the process. Not only did this weaken The Dreadlord Strahd, but it allowed the party access to Ireena-- Strahd's bride to be. The fight with the Heart of Sorrow greatly weakened the party, causing the Paladin to use his remaining spell slots and charges of his vampire-slaying magical items.

[[They found their way to the castle's chapel and, not knowing exactly where they are, decided to break open the boarded-up stained glass windows. After ten-to-fifteen minutes of work, and with a loud crash of breaking glass, the party begins climbing out of the window, when...]]

"Leaving so soon?" you hear a snide, booming voice echo through the chapel. The bats that once hung from the ceiling all wake up, flying about the room like a black storm of wings, fur, and fangs. Amidst the chaos, a silhouette of a man begins to form in front of you. As suddenly as it began, it ends. There's a deathly silence in Castle Ravenloft's Chapel as Strahd von Zarovich gazes upon you all, with a slight scowl on his face. "So, I see you've found Tatyana," he begins, forcing a smile. "And you've found the Heart of Sorrows, have you? Do you think that this will change any of your fates?" He takes a step towards you, ''I can always get another glass heart to restore me. I have nothing but time and power in this world, and that is merely an annoyance. However, you are all finally and truly becoming a thorn in my side!" He whips his cape up, and points a gnarled, clawed hand at you. His face contorts as he bears his fangs. Yet, with a cool voice he says, "You may be walking away with my bride, but I know you'll be back soon. I know your desires to slay me and steal my land out from under me! However, I won't let you leave with Tatyana… not without taking one of you for my own! Now… will one of you give yourself up? Or will I have to choose one to purge from Barovia?"

[[I wrote this expecting them to fight back, but they immediately let one of their NPCs (a wereraven I made on the spot named "Cleetus") sacrifice his life, believing that Strahd would let them leave the castle. However, after tearing out the throat of Cleetus, Strahd gave a bloody grin and began his assault on the party anyways. This was a fantastic session that lead to the party barely scraping by with their lives. Strahd may have let them escape for now... but who knows what'll happen now that the party has left...?]]

[mikaelsrose]

Reyna right after fighting her way back to the Light Realm✨

@bladesrc

We all know who I am, you know I had to start with angst🙈 I also decided to go a little extra and wrote a mini fic for this edit!

At first, she was blinded by the bright lights reflecting in the marble chamber and stunned as her head hit the ground. Then, all she heard was buzzing in her ears and some commotion in the distance. Someone was approaching, she deduced from the rhythmic thumping on the ground, and soon she felt the touch of so well-known hands on her cheek. Groaning, she forced herself to a sitting position, but immediately regretted that, feeling as if a wave of nausea was about to hit. 

She remembered saying something to him, and then vomiting, but after that she lost contact with reality, not unconscious but not able to take care of herself either, and that's when Kade took over, just as she'd done for him many times before.

When she came to, she was lying in bed in a familiar chamber with Kade holding her hand to his lips. There were two guards stationed by the door and she immediately tensed.

“Kade,” she whispered. “Am I in trouble?”

“Reya, thank the stars,” he mumbled, opening his eyes immediately at the sound of her voice, and he rushed to close his sister in a bear hug. She enveloped him too, although without as much force.

“You're hurting me.”

“Sorry, sorry, I am just so happy to see you again.”

Kade pulled away, but his hands remained on her shoulders, holding her in place as he took in the sight of her with glassy eyes and a big smile on his face. Reyna smiled back at him, but her brows furrowed.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you haven't seen me in so long. It was just a couple of days, I know it must’ve been stressful but—”

“Reya, you’ve been gone for a year.”

“Impossible,” she whispered, shaking her head. Only then she remembered that the last time she saw her brother his face was covered in bruises, while now there was not a single trace of them. Her face fell. “Where’s Tyril?”

Kade bit his lip, his hand now squeezed Reyna’s in a poor attempt to calm her down. “Don’t get nervous, you should be resting.”

“Did something happen to him?”

“No! No, he’s alright, it’s just… He’s in Undermount. Pretty much everyone left the castle by now, only Threep and Loola are here.”

They left. She swallowed slowly, trying to calm her nerves and to sort out her thoughts. “He left?”

“We combed through the Royal Archives together for months, but at last we reached the conclusion that perhaps the elves have the answers we were looking for, so he went back to work from there. He’s still looking, he didn’t leave you,” Kade reassured. “I’ll call a chambermaid for you and—”

"No, don’t. I’m alright, I can still take care of myself,” she stopped him and smiled weakly. 

“Are you sure?”

“I am," she nodded lazily. "I just want to take the bubbliest bath in history, my whole body hurts." 

Kade gently squeezed his sister's hand and sent her a reassuring smile. "Alright, you deserve it. I'll send for a physician in an hour, and then—"

"Send for Tyril, please."

As she caught a sight of her broken body in the mirror, she was glad the room was only illuminated by several candles. Her feet brought her closer to the reflective surface, her lip quivered unwillingly. 

Her fingers touched the protruding clavicles, then ribs, only to finally slide down to her hip bones, covered in multicoloured bruises. She lost weight. Her split lip started bleeding again, and she watched as the blood drops slid down her chin and then down her chest.

“Oh.”

A battleground. The first chance she had to see herself in a mirror was right before she entered the tub, inviting with the warm scent of lavender. Her body was a battleground. 

She swore under her breath, taking in every little bruise and cut, touching it just a bit too roughly, which caused additional waves of pain. Her body looked worse than after the battle with the Dreadlord.

Reyna shuddered at the thought of another scientist's hands touching her broken body, being exposed to another stranger. She felt lonely, her skin was cold. She wanted Tyril to hold her, to kiss every bruise and cut, to massage healing ointments into her skin as tenderly as only his hands could. But what if he didn't wait for her? What if it proved too much for him, and he found someone better in his homeland? What if her friends didn't look for her any more? 

Sighing heavily, Reyna carefully took off her underwear, cringing with every move, and threw it on the floor, intending to dispose of it the second she leaves the bathroom. 

She slowly submerged in the steaming water, and a sigh of relief left her lips when she lied comfortably in the tub. The bubbles happily burst against her skin, tickling her in the most delicate way, reminding her that one's touch can be gentle. If not for the burning in his eyes, she wouldn’t realise she was crying. She had no reason to—she didn’t even know what happened, after all. She didn’t remember. The wounds would heal and she would be brand new. She would find her friends, and they would be together again. All would be well. So why was she weeping, unable to catch a breath?

When she left the bathtub, the mirror was fogged, concealing her reflection from her eyes. It was better that way, she preferred not to see herself. 

Reyna looked around the well-known room, inspecting it for any changes, any traces of Tyril's recent activity, and at last her own belongings. 

They had spent the whole week between returning from the Shadow Realm and her kidnapping in this room, mostly in bed or in the bathtub. Naturally, she gripped his pillow, searching for his scent or a letter left on the sheets, only to find herself disappointed. She was conflicted, confused, a bit disappointed, still hoping Kade was playing a trick on her, and she was in fact gone for a few days. The weather was just as she remembered, trees lazily shedding their colourful leaves and chilly rainy nights. 

She had Kade dismiss the physician’s help, claiming she was fine. She would take care of it. She just needed to sleep it off.

Kade wrapped his arms as gently as he could around his bruised sister, lovingly caressing the back of her head as she cried into his shirt for what felt like hours on end. He shed a tear as well, although he tried his best to conceal it—Reyna needed him to be the strong one now. Once she cried out all her tears, she asked Kade to sing her a lullaby, as he often did throughout their life in Riverbend.

"And please don't leave me alone tonight," she pleaded, tugging on his wrist. 

"Of course, I'll stay and watch over you," he assured and tucked her frail body in before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, in the same way she always did when he was sick and afraid he wouldn't pull through. 

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows of Hope

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II, Chapter 1 Word Count: ~3,000 Rating: Teen to be safe; emotional hurt (I'm sorry!) Warnings: drinking, depression, hints toward suicidal thoughts A/N: I use dialogue and the setting from chapter 1 in the beginning to set the scene, and then incorporate Daenarya's dream with Mal's at the end.

Synopsis: She was there, and then she was gone. Mal would move heaven and earth to bring her back, but what happens when he can't?

"A toast!" Daenarya's smile widened, filling her face as she lifted a glass toward her friends. This new life of hers would take some getting used to, but she couldn't imagine a better group to experience this journey with. "To beating the Dreadlord."

"To green things and fresh air!" Imtura added, grateful to have escaped the Shadow Realm.

"And sunshine," Nia beamed, basking in the glow and safety of the warm sunlight that streamed into the White Tower palace gardens. The priestess of light might not be serving the temple, but she was going to spend her new freedom experiencing all the world had to offer.

Tyril feigned a frown, though his smile was still visible in the corner of his lips, betraying his stoic nature. "This is ridiculous. You may as well toast to the bees."

"Agreed!" Mal cheered, his jovial spirit soaring high. He was damn proud of the man he had become over the last few months and it was this crew that helped him get there. "To the bees. May they teach Tyril to have a better attitude—" 

The Rogue's laughter roared through the gardens as the traveling crew clinked their glasses together. They had done it. They had done the unthinkable. They had not only defeated the Dreadlord and the Shadow Court, but they had traveled to the Shadow Realm and returned, a feat no one had ever done before them. They also rescued Nia, Kade, a second Nespar, and discovered the Blade of Light. 

The group's spirits were high as they enjoyed the jubilant atmosphere. They didn't know what the future held, but they knew whatever it was they were ready. Together.

But that thought barely had time to glimmer to light, before darkness descended, shattering the revelry.

A swirling purple vortex cuts the serene gardens. Soldiers of the Shadow Realm march out. Mal drew his daggers, Tyril his sword, Imtura her axes, and Nia her light. They would fight and win, they had to. 

But then she came. 

The Dark Elf. 

Before anyone could react, she had seized Daenarya, her grip like an iron vice. With a malevolent grin, she dragged her back into the Realm of Shadows. The room fell into stunned silence. The laughter was gone. The drinks were shattered and spilled on the floor. Their weapons remained clutched in their hands, yet she was gone. The portal sealed shut before them, leaving only their memories that she was ever even there. 

His grasp on his daggers tightened, his muscles straining beneath his armor. This couldn't be how it ends. Not like this. Not without her. 

Mal drew in a long, measured breath. His eyes closed as he paused. The world around him stilled in response. The warm sunlight caressed his cheek. He could hear her whispering in his ear as she pressed a kiss there. The soft breeze from the open window carried the fragrant scent of sweet peas, like the ones he brought for her. His grip on his dagger loosened as he felt her hands over his. She was still there. He exhaled slowly, resheathing his weapons. It was only then that he had heard his friends. 

"You okay, Land Rat?" Imtura questioned, concern lacing her words.

"Mal!" Nia cried, her hands on his shoulder, shaking him back to them.

Tyril's hand moved in front of his face, trying to sense if any dark magic lingered on him. 

Mal snapped back into awareness, taking a step back. "What in the three hells is this?"

Nia wrapped her arms around him, her eyes filled with tears. "You're okay." 

"Of course I am," He responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She took a step back, studying his face. Her gaze shifted to Tyril.

"I sense no darkness or magic," Tyril decided. He rested a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Which part?" His tone was snarky, his smile cocky. "The part where we beat the Dreadlord and were celebrating, or the part where my girlfriend was kidnapped by a dark elf?"

"He's fine!" Imtura slapped him on the back. 

"Fine is a relative term," Tyril added skeptically.

"What's wrong with you, Elf Boy." Mal shook his head, his face twisting in confusion. "We're wasting time. Let's raid the armory again and go rescue Daenarya." He marched forward, pushing past his friends. 

"Mal—"

The way the elf said his name would haunt him in ways he couldn't know yet. It was soft. It was pained. It was broken.

"The portal's closed," Tyril explained. "We have no means of opening it again." 

"We have to try," Mal demanded. 

"I'm not saying we won't, but it won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is."

"I know." Tyril's reassuring hand was there on his shoulder again. It was heavier now. "We will not rest until we have rescued her, but rushing into things won't help. We need a plan. We need to research."

"I'm not going to stand here while Daenarya is being tortured and having gods knows what done to her." He pulled his shoulder away. "We are getting her back. One way or another. We are getting her back."

"Aye!" Imtura agreed. "I'm with the land rat."

"Me too," Nia added. "Daenarya risked her life to save mine. I owe her everything."

"Obviously, I am in, as well. It will be a challenge, but one I would be honored to accept with the three of you." 

Mal nodded at his crew. "Then, it's decided. We rescue Daenarya."

"We should check the royal records and library for any information about realm crossing," Tyril offered. 

"I'll check with the temple to see if there is any light magic or rituals that might be of assistance," Nia suggested.

"That leaves you and me, Princess—" Mal's smirk grew as his hope rose. "Weapons and armor. We will need all the tactical help we can get." 

"My kind of duty!" Imtura nodded, giving him a one-time pass on the Princess comment. 

Mal held his head high as they each went off to their tasks. Daenarya wasn't lost to the shadows, not with them readying to rescue her. 

Hours turned into days. 

Days turned into weeks. 

Every lead they found led to failure. 

One defeat after another, smothering their hope a little more with each failed attempt. The once bright light filling their eyes had dulled. Dark circles hung beneath their weary gaze. Lines of exhaustion dug creases across their faces. 

Day after day, week after week, they worked tirelessly to save her, but now it was physically killing them.

Emotionally, they were no better. They were unraveling—fast. The spark of optimism that once fueled their determination now flickered like a dying ember. Frustration lurked beneath the surface. Mal found himself snapping at Imtura over the smallest things, their camaraderie strained by the constant setbacks. Nia, usually a calming presence, had her patience tested as she argued with Tyril over their research and what powers they could harness from the light. 

With each passing day, the bonds that held them together grew more fragile without her. She was the glue that brought them together, and without her... without her, they were just 3 very different people with a common memory.

In the dimly lit room where they gathered to discuss their most recent findings, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension. Mal's jaw clenched as he glanced at Tyril's furrowed brow, and the elf's narrowed gaze showed his growing impatience for the human. Imtura, once the heart of their humor, now responded to jests with a forced smile that failed to reach her eyes. Nia struggled to keep her voice steady as she raised concerns about their dwindling options.

Weeks turned into hopeless months.

The weight of their mission pressed down on them like a relentless storm. It tore them apart until all that remained was the fragments of a group that once was celebrated, but was now pitied and avoided at all costs. 

Mal's gaze darkened, and he snapped at everyone at any word. Nothing was enough. Nothing was right. Nothing was his way. But most of all, nothing brought her back. His burning rage consumed him. He lashed out at his friends who tried to console him, his once-charming demeanor replaced by a bitter and resentful man.

"I shouldn't have ever let Kit convince me friends are anything more than a liability," Mal snapped. "You lot couldn't save yourselves. How could I rely on you? I'll save Daenarya myself." 

The rage in Imtura grew; she drew her ax as he walked away. Her grip on her weapon tightened. No human would speak to her like that and draw another breath.

Tyril stood in her path, a somber expression on his face. He shook her head. "Let him go. He's lost more than the rest of us."

The remaining three agreed to go their separate ways. They'd never give up on trying to rescue her—Daenarya was strong; if anyone could survive the Shadow Realm, it was her. The knowledge brought little comfort. 

As he walked the cold streets of White Tower alone, his gaze fell upon the disgraced temple of light. His jaw clenched as he remembered what he had seen the last time he stepped foot in there. Yet, his feet carried him toward the glimmering building's white steps. He climbed the stairs, one reluctant step after another. Mal had never been a religious man, but he had tried everything else. He promised her he'd try everything, so that meant this as well. 

He fell to his knees at the altar, begging the gods of old, new, and anyone listening to save her. He offered everything he could think of, anything he could use to bargain with them. His soul and his life were among the last. His life didn't matter, hers did. She saved the realm; she got a rag-tag group of misfits to work together. It wasn't them; it was her. Let him be damned but bring her back. Only silence filled the room in response. 

Mal traveled the kingdoms, searching for any religion to turn to, anything to breathe life into the embers of hope that vaguely glowed within him. Without hope, he knew there would be nothing left of him. 

He dragged himself back to the Temple of Ellara, where their journey first began. He fell beneath the statue of Ittar and Bakshi, the two souls that formed one god. The lovers. If anyone would take pity on him, it was them. He cried out, begging and pleading for refuge. The only response was the sound of his sobs echoing in the hallowed halls. 

He was alone.

Daenarya had been taken.

He had pushed his friends away.

The gods had failed him. 

He was alone.

He should have been used to it. Gods know he had spent his life with that feeling, yet this time was different. This time was heavier. Because this time, he knew what it was like to have a family. This time, he knew what love felt like. This time, he knew how it felt to have hope, to trust in a future that might be okay, and to lose it all.

Now, he was alone, and there was no escape from the pit of despair he found himself in.

He didn't remember how he got there. He didn't know how long it had been. All he knew was he was back. Perhaps it was where he was always meant to end up.

Mal retreated into the shadows, seeking solace in the dark, forgotten streets of White Tower. It was a place where no one remembered your name, where he could be as lost as he felt inside. His despair was a suffocating weight, threatening to consume him entirely.

"I tried, Mom," he whispered as he leaned against her grave, a bottle of liquor in his hand. "I tried," he repeated, drinking the remaining liquid. 

His fingers massaged one scar after another. Some were new, most old, and some had even been forgotten. But that was then. That was when she was there to listen to every story, hold his every pain, and share the burdens that shadowed his past. Without her, the pain returned. Every pain he had ever felt, all at once. It was suffocating. It was all-consuming.

"I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to her grave and dragged himself back toward the abandoned building he had been squatting in. His steps were weak as he shuffled down the streets. Every muscle in his body ached. His weathered skin and sunken features made the once infamous White Tower reaper unrecognizable. People scurried in the shadows to avoid passing him. No one dared approach him for fear of what he had become.

With another bottle in hand, he entered a dilapidated building. Forgotten and abandoned, the place reflected his own broken spirit. He collapsed on the floor of his new "home". He couldn't stop the chuckle growing at the word. She was home, but she took it with her, and she was gone. 

He held his dagger in his hands. A beam of moonlight slipping through one of the many holes in the structure glinted on its surface. Was tonight the night? Was this the end? 

His heavy eyes fought to close, his body desperate for sleep. He refused to let himself fall. Sleep meant dreams and, in his case, nightmares. Or, on the rare occasion that nightmares didn't consume him, he was left with only a dark purple vortex, sucking out the last of his life force. There was such little left to give. 

The bottle fell from his grasp, the liquid spilling on the floor as sleep overtook him. Instead of being greeted by the monsters and darkness that had become his only companions, he found her. She was beautiful. Just as she remembered. Her smile stirred the forgotten embers of hope that lingered deep within him. 

His body trembled at the thought of her. He smiled weakly, nervous and uncertain. "What does this mean?" 

Her fingers attempted to thread through his once luscious locks, now dirtied and tangled. Her gaze was soft as she spoke. "It means you can open that orphanage we dreamed of."

His eyes filled with unshed tears. He had forgotten about their dream. The night they had celebrated their victory, the promises they made to one another. "It would be nice to give poor kids a better life than I had. Make it so they don't have to steal to survive."

She nodded, her face beaming with pride. "It's a worthy goal. One might even say a noble one."

"Please. Anything but that." He was far from noble. He was one step above the shadow court themselves. Darkness had consumed almost every part of him.

"And Mal, my Magnificent Rogue, I promise you, no matter what... we'll be together again," her voice was a whisper in his ear—the warmth of her breath a welcomed old friend. 

"Just try not to lead me on any wild goose chases, Kit," he teased, forgetting himself. "You know how Elf Boy feels about geese." His voice was light, and laughter rumbled on his lips for the first time since she was taken. 

Mal leaned in, closing the gap between them. His lips brushed over hers, sparking the flames of hope inside him once more. His body filled with warmth. 

"And you know—" He continued. "I will always find you." 

As he reached to embrace her once more, the vision faded away, leaving him once more surrounded by darkness. He reached for the fallen bottle. Whatever remained at the bottom was better than nothing. 

His hand hovered over the glass container, something stopping him. Her words echoed in his ear. 

We'll be together again. 

Hope. 

For the first time in a long time, he had hope. 

He wanted to believe he could find her still, but he knew he had no other paths to exhaust. So he would do the one thing he knew would keep her alive. Make their dream a reality. He would build their orphanage. He would save the children of White Tower from the fate he and Daenarya had suffered. He would build a better future from the ashes of the world that had forgotten them. 

His hope turned to determination. If he was going to remain in this world without Daenarya, he would make it better—a world deserving of someone as kind and brilliant as her.

Moment by moment, day by day he poured his grief and his love into that building. It became a testament to his devotion to the woman who had made him a better man. 

With each nail he drove into the walls, and with every floorboard he replaced, he whispered her name. He imagined her smile, her laughter, and the dreams they had shared. It was as if she was there with him, guiding his hands. He could still hear her whispering his name beside him.

Sooner than he could have imagined, in the heart of the slums of White Tower, a run-down, forgotten building transformed into a home. Their home, if only in spirit. Though quiet now, soon, he hoped, the rooms would teem with laughter and light-hearted squabbles of children he could rescue in his orphanage. The place would be one of love and hope. He would tell stories of the woman who saved the realm and who saved him in doing so. He would make sure her light lived on in this realm. If anyone deserved to be remembered, it was her. 

"For you," he whispered as his fingers ran over the sign reading "Mal's Orphanage". Beneath the name, in smaller lettering, read "no longer forgotten". He wouldn't forget her. He wouldn't forget the man he became because of her, and most of all, he would make sure the children he rescued were never forgotten. He would show them a better life, a beautiful life filled with the most powerful magic he had ever learned from Daenarya—love and hope. With those two things, the world would never descend to darkness again. 

A/N #2: This is not edited, my heart broke writing it and I can't bear to read it back right now. I hope you enjoy it, despite how painful it is. My heart is absolutely broken from the first chapter back. Mal's struggle with his grief as he goes through the stages.

I'm going to create a new masterlist for Blades 2 because I'm going to keep my orphanage as my personal canon timeline from Book One. Book 2 stories will be an AU. I know that makes no sense, but to me, my orphanage will always be my personal favorite place and my canon.

[plethoraworldatlas]

Basics of WoT: 4th Age

This is the starting information/overview of the state of the world in the grand scale for the Fourth Age project I worked on.

The setting takes place 25-35 years after the very end of the series (Most likely 1035 NE; A new Calendar has been proposed amongst all Dragon Peace nations, but only some have decided to start phasing it in, using two calendars until 1100 NE/65 PD "Post Dragon Reborn")

The Industrial Revolution has taken swing, the new Printing Press in particular igniting a thousand different fires of revolution and repression

Powers and abilities from Ages past creep back into the world, and new Powers never seen appear as well

The "Peace" of the Lands

The Dragon Peace unites all of the Westlands (also called Marhol) not occupied by the Seanchan, as well as the Aiel Three-fold Lands under a order of peace, with the Aiel taking the role of the primary Peacekeepers

The Griffin Truce, named for the Seanchan Raven and the Lion of Andor as the signing took place in Caemlyn, has formalized non-aggression between the Dragon Peace United nations and the Seanchan occupation and its Imperial Dominions

The Seanchan Empire under Empress Fortuona rules its Dominions, yet under the the Viewings of the Doomseer, they have yet to return in force to their fractured home Continent to reform the Empire as a whole

Republicanism has become a fire sweeping through a world of Monarchies, splitting the young Empire of the Sun and the founding member of the Republic's League, the Rivers Republic

The White Tower is rocked by scandal after the greatest journalistic reporting of the century reveals to the world a major secret of the Hall, as well as the different directions the Ajahs move

The Black Tower raises in prominence, yet the world still distrusts male channelers

The great Empire of Shara has collapsed to the joy of those they subjugated for centuries, only for the "Restoration Peacekeeping" to lead to strife as outsiders try to decide the fates of entire peoples

the Aiel balance their role as peacekeepers with the reckoning coming towards them; Fueds with the Seanchan, the uncertain future of the Three-fold Lands, New visions of possible futures guiding their choices as peacekeepers yet still each choice made to prevent one dark future seems to cause another. The Clans united under the Dragon Reborn, but what of the new holds in the Wetlands? What of the remnant Free Shaido? What of the Warrior society's without wars?

The Atha'an Meire have formed their Empire of All Seas in reaction to the new age of imperialism, Traveling and Gateways, and industrial trading

The Shadow's Corruption has diminished from the Blight, yet monsters and Trollocs and Darkfriends and Turned remain; With the Dark One sealed away, however, the now Free Trolloc are said to have turned from the chains their old master put on their minds, and collaboration between the White and Black Towers lead many to believe those forcibly Turned to the Shadow may yet be saved. Ancient hate does not die easily, and the Broderlanders and the world at large itch to take the new frontiers of the Wild North, to Crusade against what is seen as the last vestiges of the Dark

The Borderland Bloc has formed to unite the weary borderlanders among the Dragon Peace and rebuild greater and with more prominence; In 2 years, the First Premier Imperator's 12 year term shall end and a new ruler of the Bloc must be elected, with nearly every choice leading the Bloc into one grand conflict or another

Everloyal Darkfriends scheme still, and those forced to serve the Dark fight to survive a world where there is little mercy for those so much as touched once by the Shadow. Dreadlords attempt to carve out realms of their own

This and more is the state of the world.

Will the peace hard fought for stand strong, or is such a thing a fantasy during the rising Age of Empires and Industry? Will the world become one where all peoples and perhaps even all species exist together, or is domination inevitable? In a new age, called the Fourth Age by some, will the times to come be known as a Great Ending, or a Great Beginning?

Notes:

I ramped up on some of the poetical wordings for this. Also, my notes are harder to read than I remember. Marhol is directly from @highladyluck from Tumblr, I was working on this long enough to see them post their idea for the name of the Continent and I always liked it better than Westlands. Obviously, Rand wanted the Dragon Peace to bring, well, peace, but it's still basically just a Renaissance version of the EU; These are nations that have fought since their founding, facing a changing world, an empire occupying their Continent's western coast, and strung together under an agreement they were forced to sign with peacekeepers they don't understand as a culture who also aren't honestly the best option. The Aiel got flanderized in the last books by Sanderson, but there are serious issues with them being last minute made into basically the nationality of Peacekeepers. The Seafolk Empire is interesting in that it forms to protect their trading culture as well as the ports they were granted yet remains a brutal empire. The Borderland Bloc is similar, the borderlanders basically thanklessly fighting the Shadow for centuries while many thought the Trollocs they fought fairy-tales, being the most devastated nations after the Last Battle, unifying to rebuild each other and make sure the rest of the Dragon Peace remembers them; Still, every choice for the future leader is an iffy one. Don't worry, Malkier has been reformed, it has an interesting place in this mess. Everyone admits Shara was a mess, so I decided to try and fix it; Shara is the name of the Continent, but also the Empire that ruled it, and the other nations they oppressed and erased are "free" with its fall. This being the beginning of the age of imperialism, though, how "free" they are under "reconstruction" is soon to be decided. That's it for this one, go ahead and ask questions about the summary, keep in mind I will be doing posts for basically every nation and faction I have so asking things like "what's up in Andor?" will be answered later or have a special post to ask under. Please share if you like, this is basically my first big attempt at a project like this.

[sophie-summer]

What do we know about corruption?

I really didn't know what to think about Aerin's corruption situation, but I saw this post yesterday and I've being thinking about it ever since.

What does it mean to be corrupted? Essentially, in book one, it could be understood as being turned into the evilest version of oneself under the influence of the Shadow Court, those who have succumbed to their darkest desires. It's often portrayed in black and white terms: light is good, and shadow is bad (i mean the magic itself, we know what happened with Solerm). If someone allows the influence of the Shadow Court to dominate them, it determines whether they belong to the light or shadow, whether they are good or bad.

However, remember how Aerin mentioned that corruption is more complex than what MC knows or thinks. We also have those two intriguing members of the Shadow Court from the last chapter. I understand that we sort of paid to get their help, but the fact that they were willing to abandon the Shadow Realm (despite the fact the Ash Empire wants them dead) and expressed that they were tired of war and fighting, just wanting to lead a quiet life. And this perspective comes from the very first elves who were corrupted and have been so for a long time (as Nyra stated, they've committed plenty of bad deeds).

I think corruption has more to do with magic. Yes, it influences the darker aspects in people, in some way, amplifying those negative desires. But it's not the whole story. Mainly, corruption is about bestowing people with a power they didn't possess Shadow magic. This also raises questions about who is capable of bestowing someone with Shadow magic. Is it something one can willingly acquire just by being in the Shadow Realm? Because from what we've seen so far, the Dreadlord was the one granting power through the shards, what is it source? We know magic just exist, and you need to affinity in other to use it, and you trade your own life of it, but what do you give in exchangefor Shadow magic? Can someone actually bestow light magic to someone else?(but that's for another time).

As I was saying, based on what we've observed, with Nia, the recent member of the Shadow Court, as well as all the corrupted characters in book one, reversing corruption doesn't appear to be possible.

So, Aerin is most likely using the Nerada stone. He is still corrupted but has overcome the negative influence of the Shadow magic on his desires (as he seems to regret what he did in book 1), but can't of the Shadows (much like Nyra and Isador).

Anyways, can you imagine fighting against Vallax, and Nia and Aerin UNLEASHING THEIR SHADOW MAGIC AGAINST THEM? Now I HAVE TO SEE THIS!

[iviarellereads]

The Dragon Reborn, Chapter 22 - The Price of the Ring

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Flame icon) In which we get a scene that echoes back to another that came before.

PERSPECTIVE: Egg is only a short way from Verin's rooms when Sheriam finds her and says it's time for her Accepted test. She leads her down to the room with the three arches, and gives her the same speech she gave Nyn last book. Egg undresses to go through, and Alanna, there to represent the Green Ajah, says there's some kind of resonance or echo in the arches, she can't identify from where. Sheriam asks if it's a problem, and Alanna says no, she's just never heard of that happening before.(1)

The first time is for what was, the way will come but once. Egg raises her head to Rand talking about a peddler with strange news. She's rocking a cradle with a child... her daughter, Joiya. She asks Rand to tell his strange news, and he says the rest of the world seems to be caught up in a war with some funny folk, calling themselves the Sanchan or something. Egg almost remembers.

Rand's getting headaches, and strange things happen when he does. He has another now, but as Egg moves to soothe him, the silver arch appears. She takes a step toward it, then cries out that no, this is what she wants, why can't she have this, too? Rand gets up to ask her what she's talking about, but he falls to the ground, his headache worse than ever before.(2) It's the hardest thing Egg's ever had to do to keep walking toward the arch.

The second time is for what is. Egg is in a dusty silk dress, in the Royal Palace of Andor. The whole city of Caemlyn is in ruins. Trollocs, Darkfriends, and Myrddraal prowl, searching for "him". She runs through the rubble and finds Rand pinned by a beam. It's all he can do to hold the madness at bay, if he gives an inch it will take him over. He gestures at a dagger, and tells her to kill him. She can't! He says the Myrddraal and Dreadlords will turn him to the dark, he can't fight them if he's mad. She looks over her shoulder and sees the arch. She has to refuse him and walk toward it, though he cries out for her.

As Sheriam guides her to the next arch, Egg mentions that "he" said Myrddraal and Dreadlords could turn him to the Shadow. Sheriam almost stumbles, and says that the custom is not to speak of what happens inside the ter'angreal. Egg asks if it's true, and Sheriam says it's not a widely known fact, and she shouldn't ever have to learn it, but yes, it takes thirteen Darkfriends who can channel - the Dreadlords - and thirteen Myrddraal. But it hasn't been done since the Trolloc Wars. Egg comments that with Liandrin and the others, they make thirteen. Sheriam says she should forget that.(3)

The third time is for what will be. Egg stares into the mirror, surprised at the ageless smoothness of her face, and by the striped stole around her shoulders. She's the Amyrlin Seat here. Her Keeper, Beldeine, comes up behind her, her stole green, meaning that must be what Ajah Egg chose before the raising. The "way back will come but once" whisper gets cut off, for a new whisper: Thirteen Darkfriends.(4)

The Keeper leads Egg to a great hall, scared to her toenails. It's the Hall of the Tower, with all the Sitters, representatives of the Ajahs. Elaida is one, and calls for "him" to be brought in. Rand is in chains and Elaida calls for the pronouncement that he should be gentled, as can only happen here. Egg hesitates, and Elaida cues a coup.(5) Egg gets knocked in the head, but awakens before they cut her off from the Source. She counts thirteen Aes Sedai, and thirteen Myrddraal, and loses her shit, killing the Myrddraal and knocking out the Dreadlords.

She finds Beldeine, who says the Dreadlords stilled her, forced her to betray Egg. But what can Egg do now? She says she never held the Oath Rod,(6) and goes on a Mission(tm) to find and save Rand. As she's getting to the open Traitor's Court, planning to use balefire, whatever that is, to distract them, the "way back will come" message comes back, startling her, and she turns to see the arch, wavering in and out of reality, and she can hear the Aes Sedai on the other side fighting to keep it open. With a scream of rage that she once again can't save Rand, she throws herself at it.

Light plucked her apart fiber by fiber, sliced the fibers to hairs, split the hairs to wisps of nothing. All drifted apart on the light. Forever.(7)

=====

(1) What's different about this? Only that Egwene is carrying that little stone ring ter'angreal… but surely that shouldn't affect the arches? Then again, for all the Aes Sedai confidence in these rituals, there's obviously a lot they don't know about. They didn't know what most of the ter'angreal the Black Ajah defectors with Liandrin took could do, and if nobody's seen the stone ring in almost five hundred years, why would anyone have tested it in the room with the arches, which are only used to raise novices to Accepted? What do you think these objects could have in common? (2) Rand here, in this AU, is beginning to channel involuntarily, and his wilder sickness seems to be playing out as we saw it develop in book 1. (3) And Sheriam's right, isn't she, from her own perspective? Egg ought to keep her focus on her studies and the Tower, not on her old flame and the world at large and the defection of thirteen women who almost incriminated the Wondergirls by default. (4) Curious. Nynaeve also got some deviance in what she was led to expect. Do you think most of the arch journeys are different from what the ritual explanations provide, or are the Wondergirls just that special? (5) Do you think Elaida is Black Ajah in the waking world, too? Do you think her ambitions could lead her to participate in such a horrifying breach of protocol, if the motivation were right? Do the answers to those two questions depend on each other to be true, in your opinion? (6) Shouldn't that be impossible? How would Egg have managed it? It's funny enough that her "what is yet to come" shows her being Amyrlin, after it's been said a half dozen times that she could be someday, but this seems like a stretch, doesn't it? Even in the dream of the arches, she's not sure how she managed it. (7) I sure hope she made it or we've just wasted an awful lot of POV chapters. Well, not wasted, if she dies now we HAVE learned quite a bit through her perspective… but surely there were other ways to convey that information instead of using a character who was about to die?

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 7: Blood Calls Blood

Spoiler warning: This post has spoilers for the entirety of The Wheel of Time. Beginning to end. Don't keep reading if that's a problem.

“But quite interesting,” Verin said. She had been the fourth Aes Sedai the Amyrlin had chosen for the work. “It is too bad we do not have the dagger so the Healing could be complete. For all we did tonight, he will not live long. Months, perhaps, at best.”

You could say it's bad luck for Siuan and Moiraine that this happened. Almost like they're around a ta'veren who manipulates probability like some kind of demented Homestuck character. Almost like they were making shit plans that necessitated bad luck so better things could happen.

He has been linked to the dagger a long time, however, as a thing like that must be reckoned. And he will be linked longer yet, whether it is found or not. He may already be changed beyond the reach of full Healing, even if no longer enough to contaminate others.

And yet - he's not! Lucky break.

Moiraine gave the Brown sister a wry look. Another danger confronts us, and she sounds as if it is a puzzle in a book. Light, the Browns truly are not aware of the world at all.

Verin: We can calculate exactly how existential the threat the remnants of Shadar Logoth are.

Moiraine: Give me your fucking lunch money, nerd! *shoves Verin into a locker ter'angreal*

Why is this Darkfriend important enough for them to risk what they did to rescue him? Much easier for them just to steal the Horn. Still risky as a winter gale in the Sea of Storms, coming into the very keep like that, but they compounded their risk to free this Darkfriend.

Poor Siuan doesn't even know the whole story about Fain being a Dragon Detector.

“What was written on the walls in the dungeon. There were few problems with translation. Most was the usual—blasphemy and boasting; Trollocs seem to know little else—but there was one part done in a better hand. An educated Darkfriend, or perhaps a Myrddraal. It could be only taunting, yet it has the form of poetry, or song, and the sound of prophecy. We know little of prophecies from the Shadow, Mother.”

We still know little! The Shadow somehow has prophecies made by isolated men and women, but we don't know how they gathered them or how they got secrecy to the point that basically only Moridin would know them by the end. Is Foretelling rare because the Shadow's better at finding people with the Talent before the Tower can (not hard since they're not looking)? Can it be induced in some traumatic way related to isolation? Do Dreadlords with Foretelling get put into seclusion to encourage Foretellings? So many questions.

Daughter of the Night, she walks again. The ancient war, she yet fights. Her new lover she seeks, who shall serve her and die, yet serve still. Who shall stand against her coming? The Shining Walls shall kneel.

I'll break this prophecy down stanza by stanza less the repetitive blood stuff (which means "The battle's never over, Rand al'Thor"). This one is about Lanfear, her return to the battle, and her attempts to win Rand over, but... that service stuff is hard to square. I'm going to say it's about how he tries to help her in this book, metaphorically dies during Veins of Gold and then tries to turn her back to the Light in the final book, working for her well-being in ways that she despises. Likewise, since Lanfear never actually gets to fuck with Tar Valon direclty, the kneeling is probably more about Moiraine bowing to the inevitable and taking her out to her own detriment.

The man who channels stands alone. He gives his friends for sacrifice. Two roads before him, one to death beyond dying, one to life eternal. Which will he choose? Which will he choose? What hand shelters? What hand slays?

Rand isn't alone yet, but by The Gathering Storm he'll have pushed everyone aside. He'll view his friends - particularly Lan - as pieces on the board to be sacrificed. The Shadow probably thinks the two roads before him are continuing the cycle or serving the Dark One respectively, but it's actually the case that the two roads are destroying existence or continuing the cycle. The hand imagery is harder to parse, though I'll suggest it's about Rand's metaphysical confusion during this process.

The Watchers wait on Toman’s Head. The seed of the Hammer burns the ancient tree. Death shall sow, and summer burn, before the Great Lord comes. Death shall reap, and bodies fail, before the Great Lord comes. Again the seed slays ancient wrong, before the Great Lord comes.

Skipping verse 3 (it's about Slayer and is painfully obvious). This is about the Seanchan coming to Falme, descendants of Luthair the Hammer. Summer does indeed burn before the Last Battle and there's lots of death and weird evil bubbles, but the last line doesn't come true thanks to Jordan wanting to do the Outriggers: at no point do the Seanchan slay any ancient wrong, let alone their own use of the a'dam. They don't even manage to kill a Forsaken.

“That would be something to worry us, Daughter,” the Amyrlin Seat said, “if it were true. But the Forsaken are still bound.” She glanced at Moiraine, looking troubled for an instant before she schooled her features. “Even if the seals are weakening, the Forsaken are still bound.”

Being locked out of the loop does come with some advantages if you're literally incapable of lying though. Good job on that, Moiraine.

Speaking of being incapable of doing stuff, it's fun that this doesn't count as betrayal on Verin's part. Like yeah, it was there for everyone to see so doing the translation isn't a problem, but interpreting is okay? She does keep herself to the obvious though.

Only one thing for certain was known of Lanfear beside the name: before she went over to the Shadow, before Lews Therin Telamon met Ilyena, Lanfear had been his lover. A complication we do not need.

You should have been counting on this, Moiraine. Even if the Last Battle coming didn't make you think that the Forsaken might get loose again, you just met Aginor and Balthamel a month ago. You should have assumed Lanfear would show up eventually.

“I don’t know, Mother. I doubt it, though. We know nothing at all of those lands Artur Hawkwing set out to conquer. It’s too bad the Sea Folk refuse to cross the Aryth Ocean. They say the Islands of the Dead lie on the other side. I wish I knew what they meant by that, but that accursed Sea Folk closemouthedness. . . .”

Maybe Verin's lying a little here. If she were the other Aes Sedai at the Social, she might well know about the Seanchan coming. But she might be legitimately be unaware, and I'm going to say that she is and wasn't at the Social anyway for reasons I'm getting to.

Also, I would love to know what happened to the Sea Folk that made them refuse to ever try to reach the Seanchan continent again. Based on the new map, I would expect that the "Isles of the Dead" are those not depicted at all on the old map, east of Seanchan's southeastern reaches and southwest of the most isolated Sea Folk isles.

“Then you believe it is not prophecy, Daughter?” “Now, ‘the ancient tree,’ ” Verin said, immersed in her own thoughts.

This is definitely Verin pretending to be dumb, avoiding answering a question that might betray her affiliation and idly speculating on what she doesn't know about so that she's not explicitly betraying shit.

“And of course,” Verin said calmly, “the man who channels must be one of the three young men traveling with you, Moiraine.”

Damn Verin, you do not fuck around.

Yes. Yes, I suppose I should. I hadn’t thought of that. But then, if I did, you would be stilled, Moiraine, and you, Mother, and the man gentled.

Sure Verin, you definitely didn't think about telling the other sisters. It was totally a theoretical exercise and you're just so good at your little thought experiments that as soon as Moiraine gave you new data about what you should be doing you deduced immediately what would happen and have a long screed about why that would suck for you personally.

If the other Ajahs didn't look down so much on the Brown they would have realized she was Black right there.

“It is unlikely,” Verin began, “that anyone who hasn’t studied the old records thoroughly would notice anything except that you were behaving oddly. Forgive me, Mother. It was nearly twenty years ago, with Tar Valon besieged, that I had my first clue, and that was only. . . .

"Basically I figured you bitches out the second Gitara died and I just was much too busy reading a really good ancient tome about how the unequal war damage to parts of the nation of Jaramide led to Abayan's comparative strength and forced Guaire Amalasan to focus his war efforts southward to give a shit about your nonsense and an infant messiah."

Perrin grimaced when he thought of that. Mat lay still, eyes closed, hands unmoving atop his blankets. He looked exhausted. Not sick really, but as if he had worked three days in the fields and only now laid down to rest. He smelled . . . wrong, though. It was nothing Perrin could put a name to. Just wrong.

Cool to know that wolf noses can scent metaphysics.

Serving women had found him sitting there in the dark, and one of the Lady Amalisa’s attendants, the Lady Timora. As soon as they came upon him, Timora sent one of the others running, and he had heard her say, “Find Liandrin Sedai! Quickly!”

Subtlety just doesn't exist in this universe, does it? And here Rand thinks that the alarm bells were all bad: better Mat suffer an unimportant injury than Perrin get dragged off by Liandrin and locked away in the Tower.

Perrin cleared his throat. Half the time he did not understand what women meant when they said things. Not like Rand. He always knows what to say to the girls.

She means that instead of using your broad shoulders, you should be using your hips. I mean... She's telling you not to fuck with Mat's recovery. Jeez Perrin.

The pause made his hackles rise. She was lying, somehow. Aes Sedai never lied, but they did not always tell the truth, either.

You'd think the Keeper of the Chronicles would be better at lying on the spot, but I guess healthcare related lies are really more something former members of the Yellow Ajah would be skilled in.

“They’re the only eyes I ever had,” he growled. He felt a little abashed, speaking to an Aes Sedai in that tone, but he was as surprised as she when he took her gently by the arms and lifted her to one side, setting her down again out of his way. As they stared at each other, he wondered if his eyes were as wide with shock as hers.

Perrin is out First Oathing an actual First Oather

Leane liked this moment a lot and I'm not judging her at all

He could not rid himself of the feeling that he should take the chance Moiraine had given him and leave immediately. The urge had been with him all night. Three times he had risen to go. Twice he had gone as far as opening the door. The halls had been empty except for a few servants doing late chores; the way had been clear. But he had to know.

Really just another bit of luck for all concerned that Mat got taken down by Fain. Again, if Rand had left Fal Dara and gotten outside of the general protection of an entire fortress city, he would have been kidnapped by Lanfear in seconds.

Suddenly Perrin scowled at the floor. “If you’re so interested, why haven’t you gone to see him yourself? I thought you were not interested in us anymore. You said you weren’t.”

I love it when people don't remember they're fighting until halfway through a conversation. Good on Perrin for calling Rand out.

Perrin did not answer. He just shucked off his coat and pulled his shirt off over his head. Rand studied his friend’s back for a moment...

*whistles innocently*

“If you want to make jokes with Aes Sedai,” Perrin broke in, “that’s up to you. My Lord.” He began stuffing his shirttail into his breeches. “I don’t spend much time being—witty; is that the word?—witty with Aes Sedai. But then, I’m only a clumsy blacksmith, and I might be in somebody’s way. My Lord.” Snatching his coat from the floor, he started for the door.

Perrin's really incredibly jealous that Rand is talking about how Leane was directly flirty with him and meanwhile of course if Rand had heard that he'd held her - even just in the context of pulling her out of the way - he'd have been incredibly jealous himself.

He paused, looking at Rand sideways. “You didn’t mean all that? We will leave here together? You, and me, and Mat?” “I can’t, Perrin. I can’t tell you why, but I really do have to go by myse—Perrin, wait!” The door slammed behind his friend.

Rand, think about it from Perrin's perspective. Something weird is up with him and he's not even comfortable talking about it. It's just one in a long series of traumatic events. Since then, you've been ducking out on everyone, constantly threatening to leave, and following Lan around like you've imprinted on him (because you have). Now you're just gonna up and ditch everyone and it kinda looks to Perrin like you're afraid of being around him because he doesn't know he should be afraid of being around you. Of course he's gonna be pissed at you for being a dick.

“You should have done that last night.” The Warder tossed a white silk shirt onto the bed. “No one refuses an audience with the Amyrlin Seat, sheepherder. Not the Lord Captain Commander of the Whitecloaks himself. Pedron Niall might spend the trip planning how to kill her, if he could do it and get away, but he would come.”

That would be a hilarious and fluffy fanfic.

“I know how, I think. I saw how the Queen’s Guards knelt to Queen Morgase.” The ghost of a smile touched the Warder’s lips. “Yes, you do it just as they did. That will give them something to think about.”

This is probably either immensely disrespectful or carries such an incorrect connotation as to be bizarre. You know what, I take what I said up there about imprinting back. It's the other way around; Lan's imprinted on Rand.

Rand frowned. “Why are you telling me this, Lan? You’re a Warder. You’re acting as if you are on my side.” “I am on your side, sheepherder. A little. Enough to help you a bit.”

If Rand had a good reason to ask it of him, Lan would slaughter everyone currently in Fal Dara without even to need to know the specifics.

“But why all this? What does it mean? Why do I put my hand over my heart if the Amyrlin Seat stands up? Why refuse anything but water—not that I want to eat a meal with her—then dribble some on the floor and say ‘The land thirsts’? And if she asks how old I am, why tell her how long it is since I was given the sword? I don’t understand half of what you’ve told me.”

I would also like to know these things. The first is clearly some kind of reference to the American pledge and the third clearly originated in the Trolloc Wars, but... why? What does it mean? Who wants to help me conduct a seance to haunt Robert Jordan beyond the grave and get some answers to these utterly trivial concerns?

From his pocket the Warder produced a long length of wide, fringed golden cord and tied it around Rand’s left arm in a complicated knot. On the knot he fastened a red-enameled pin, an eagle with its wings spread. “I had that made to give you, and now is as good a time as any. That will make them think.”

Lan really is a complete sweetheart of a man. Either he's using up his paltry Warder allowance for this or he totally leaned into the whole Malkier thing despite not liking it at all to get a favor. It's a shame he didn't try to get Moiraine to see Rand like he did, might have saved her a world of grief.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Nia has always been a badass- it just takes her a while to put it to use for her own sake

When you first meet Nia, she's running into town asking for help in her pretty, sparkly dress that looks like it would catch on every branch in the world. And she has a pretty low opinion of her fighting skills. Everything about the setup seems to suggest she's going to be a healer you have to focus on protecting.

And Nia's right, she isn't great at taking care of herself. But not for the reason she thinks! It's not that she's at all weak, physically, mentally, or magically.

I think it's because of her assumption that she can't fight. That she's fragile. And because she initially thinks she's no use in combat, the second Nia's in danger she just gives up and calls for help.

But the second someone else is in danger? Well, Nia doesn't hesitate. She starts destroying necromantic skeletons, because she's certainly not going to just stand by and let someone get hurt.

She'll do this as soon as the Temple of Ellara if you screw up. No hesitation, just smashing shadow hounds. Then she's shocked that it worked! Because it didn't occur to her she could help until she did it out of protective instinct.

It's devastating to Nia when Scholar Vash dies to the Shadow Court. She mourns him. She has a big, well deserved cry about it. But she doesn't stop there. Because other people are in trouble. She immediately goes, "No one else dies. I'm going to kick the Shadow Court's ass. You coming?"

The team's encouragement, especially MC's, slowly helps Nia see that she can be badass. That she is badass.

And that is how she saves the world. By becoming aware of what she was always capable of. MC has to remind Nia of all she loves and wants to protect in the world to help her resist the Dreadlord. Because that's easier for Nia than fighting for herself.

But it's Nia finding confidence and strength in who she is, separate from her commitment to others, that ultimately lets her save the day.

Basically, I love the story of this sweet priestess who thinks she's fragile, only to realize she's so powerful and determined she's disrupted the plans of a guy called the Dreadlord.

Screenshots from my hero, Neckrone Shen on youtube whose 4 playthroughs of Blades have saved me hours of replaying.

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Coming Home to Imtura

I think I saw where someone wanted to see a reunion fic with mc x Imtura, not sure if this was what you were wanting but this is my version of chapter 2 of Blades of Light and Shadow 2.

Pairing: Imtura x f!mc

Your pacing the length of the docks were sure to be aggravating Kade and Nia at this point but you couldn't stand still. It had only been a few days since you came stumbling through the portal, barely escaping death from the claws of the power mad Ash princess. What was days in the Shadow realm to you was an entire year in the Light realm. A year for your brother, for your friends, for Imtura. By the Light, you couldn't even imagine what it was like for Imtura, if roles had been reversed...you shudder at the thought.

Nia had sent a message to Imtura by dove as soon as you fell back into the palace's throne room, alerting the orc to abandon whatever clues or leads the gang could find about traveling between the Light and the Shadow realm and to make haste to Portnassus as soon as possible. And now here you were, waiting on the docks, just minutes from possibly seeing The Wraith approaching.

Doubts began to cross your mind. What if everything changed for Imtura? A year apart could have made her feelings fade away for you. What if looking at you was like looking at a stranger? You almost didn't recognize Nia when you were reunited with her. Nia's hair and clothing style changed but it was the new self confidence that she now held herself with that made you realize the woman you met back in Riverbend a long time ago was completely transformed anew. What had a year done to Imtura?

"Sister, look." Kade's strong and steady voice soothed you just as much as his hand on your shoulder did. You looked at where he was pointing and your heart lurched in your chest at the sight of Imtura's colors flying proudly atop the masts of her ship. The ship was approaching rapidly and you knew the orc that had captured your heart was on it.

You struggle to keep yourself from just hurling yourself into the sea to swim towards The Wraith, to make the reunion happen faster but it seems even Imtura was just as impatient, because not even before her crew could drop anchor and bring up the sails, she was swinging down onto the dock, boots slamming into the groaning wood while her hard eyes swept across all the occupants on the dock until her gold eyes met yours.

Her intense gaze that could sear through you immediately softened as she laid eyes upon you. Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she mouthed your name. Your knees buckled but Kade gently pushes you towards the orc and suddenly you're running towards her, as if Princess Valax was hot on your heels.

"Imtura!" You cry out.

"MC!!" Imtura roared and thundered towards you. As soon as she was able to get her hands on you, you were immediately swept up and lifted entirely off the ground in her embrace. You sobbed as she brought you back down and grasped the sides of your head and hungrily slammed your lips together. It was messy, it was rough, her tusks scrapped you, but it was perfect and everything you needed.

You trembled as she finally reluctantly pulled back to look into your eyes. A smile crept across Imtura's face like the rising of the morning sun and as you stood there in her arms, her forehead pressed against yours, the fear you had been feeling since you were kidnapped fell away. You knew the upcoming battle was far from over, you still had to find Mal and Tyril and discuss the looming threat of the Ash Empire. Princess Valax was not the type to quit at just one loss but right now...right here...none of that mattered. Because the woman you love, was holding you like you would break at any moment and looking at you as if she'd sail the entire ocean and fight the Dreadlord again for you. This moment in time belonged to you and Imtura.

Apologies to anyone who actually knows ship terminology and if I made any mistakes. I'm sorry but I didn't want to do any research lol.

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #6: Ashley

Full Name: Ashley Cindra Scorchmane Gender: Female (she/her) Race: Worgen Class: Mage Specialization: Fire Orientation: Straight (ally!) Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 39 Height: 6'11 (5'7 Human form) Voice reference: Loona - Helluva Boss Theme: Choke - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

[BACKSTORY] (TWs for implied queerphobia and racism happening in this character's backstory)

Ashley grew up in Tirisfal Glades surrounded by the Scarlet Crusade. As a toddler, her parents were slain by rogue undead, and thus the organization took her in. Their goal with her was to raise her to be an Inquisitor of the Crusade, and so they assigned her to one Samuel Price in order to teach her their arts of interrogation. However, their methods were.. less than humane, with Inquisitor Price teaching Ashley to set alight the flesh of any the Crusade had deemed heretics until they either gave in to their ideals or died of the torture. If she protested or questioned him, she was often abused herself, and as a result, Ashley's outlook on any that disagreed with the teachings of the Crusade turned sinister quickly. She was indoctrinated to believe that those that opposed the Crusade or any of its teachings were not to be trusted, and sometimes that spread to some people's mere existences as their race or sexuality or gender orientation. After all, she was taught that they were heretics, and any accused of such that the Crusade would bring to her, once she had taken up the role of Inquisitor and grown into her own, would burn before her magic.

Except.. something went wrong. In her own perfect world of delusion existed the outside world of Tirisfal, full of monsters and harsh realities she would soon face. A wild, feral Worgen found her in the woods and sank its teeth into her. Before she could even begin to wonder how to stop the bleeding her mind and body were taken over by the Worgen curse. Her mentor, Inquisitor Price, took enough mercy on her to administer the cure to her so she could be of sound mind again. However, he also outcast her from the Crusade, and swore she would be killed on sight if she were to ever return simply for her state as a Worgen.

Ashley did the only thing she could do. She fled, running into the hills of Tirisfal, her mind still plagued by the Scarlet Crusade's indoctrination. She lived alone in the woods, surviving on her magics and only delving further into insanity.. until she met the Shadows of the Faithful.

The most notable member of the group to her was one Derek Montend, a Gilnean priest that had also previously been a sort of.. harsh person. An overabundance of Light magic crazed him and caused him to attack the Shadows of the Faithful, later returning as an ally to fix the wounds he had left behind. He saw himself in Ashley quite blatantly, and chose to help her leave her old mindset behind instead of fighting fire with fire.. literally. So, he took her in. She had to be caged at first in order to restrain her insatiable need for violence against the members of the Faithful--many of them she found disgusting and worthy of incinerating--yet slowly but surely, she began to warm up (see what I did there) to both Derek and the rest of the Faithful. She conversed with them, and found that they were simply people just like herself, and, over time, she noticed herself growing fond of quite a few of them. So, one day, when discussing the fact she still wore a Scarlet Crusade tabard, she silently made a decision.

The Scarlet Crusade had been long wiped out for a while now. Their remaining settlements were few and dwindling. Lady Whitemane was a Horseman of the Ebon Blade. Renault Mograine had been slain long ago. The Dreadlord in their midst had ruined them, and their ideologies were simply outdated in modern society. But the ruins of their hatred remained in the northern lands of the Eastern Kingdoms. Ashley journeyed into the Eastern Plaguelands, towards their old settlement on the coast near Light's Hope Chapel and Acherus's former residence. She did not enact her horrors here, but it fit well enough. She had dawned a new tabard, one still reminiscent of her firey magics and even kept a blazing symbol as a small reminder to her origins, but was orange and yellow instead, bearing new colors to represent a new era of Ashley Scorchmane. She raised her old tabard--the red and white one bearing the mark of the Crusade as well as faded bloodstains--to the podium where a preacher may have once stood, and set the tabard alight. She ripped demonizing texts from their pages and set those alight, too, keeping them locked in a permanent state of incinerations with a little arcane touch, and wrapped them around herself. The very teachings that had taught her so ruthlessly to burn those unlike her would, themselves, burn. Satisfied, she stepped back outside, and for the first time in her life-- felt the true, warm and pure embrace of the Light.

She would serve the Shadows of the Faithful as retribution for her past actions and philosophies--just as Derek Montend had done.

[THOUGHTS]

WHEW, personally I fucking love this girl's development! She only had her redemption moment recently and I would argue there's still a long way for her to go to truly balance out everything she's done, but I absolutely adore this spoicy little ball of hatred that evolved into a warmer, happier and friendlier gal. She even knitted a little pride mug warmer for Rachel qwq

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed! I sure enjoy writing these, so :D